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digi-diareis · 8 days ago

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Your special day (+18) - Caleb (Love and Deepspace)

You're tired of Caleb putting your needs above his own. So, on his birthday, you decide to give him a very special gift.

masterlist

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 2,777

tags: caleb (lads) x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader

content warnings: shameless smut, oral sex (male receiving), PnV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, sensory deprivation, blindfolds, dom/sub undertones, use of petnames (baby, babygirl, princess)

notes: I know his birthday is in a few days, but oh well, early present. This oneshot doesn't follow the storyline of the new card. It's also written with the MC in mind, but it's ambigous enough to be interpreted as anything. I wanted to try something new, but I don't know how it turnt out, so tell me what do you think! (English is not my first languages, the work is neither proofread nor betaread, sorry for any mistakes).

You enter your apartment first. There's a flash of desperation in your step; the day hasn’t gone quite as you planned. The click of the door behind you barely registers until you hear the faint hunk of Caleb closing it, and then it hits you all at once -

“You’re always taking care of me,” you abruptly turn around to face him. You fold your arms, trying to sound stern but landing somewhere between exasperated and pouty. “Caleb, it’s your birthday, and I’m still the center of everything. You’re more worried about what I want than enjoying your day.”

His expression changes when he sees you. That quiet softness creeps into his face - the way his eyes narrow like you’re the most precious thing in his world, and the way his mouth tilts like he can’t decide whether to smile or apologize. It’s not condescension, you’re well aware of it. It’s just fondness. He opens his mouth to speak, and you already know what’s coming. Some lame cheesy line about you being his joy, his light, and the only gift he needs.

So you cross the room and shut him up with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t say it!” You cut him with a frown. “I don’t wanna hear it!”

Caleb laughs (or as much as he can with your finger still pressed firmly to his lips). His lips curl into a wide smile beneath your touch, and his eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s watching you throw a tantrum instead of being genuinely annoyed. He’s not taking you seriously!

You blow out a harsh, dramatic sigh and let your hand drop from his face with a light little slap against your leg. Your shoulders sag as if he’s worn you down by doing absolutely nothing, which, somehow, he has.

“Look,” you start, voice pitched somewhere between a sigh and a command, “since you’re clearly incapable of thinking about yourself for even one second of your entire life -” you shoot him a look, “ - just let me have this moment to give you something. To show you how much I love you.”

That brings his attention, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“So just this once… let me be the one who takes care of you,” you continue as you turn and cross the room toward a nearby drawer. You open it up and slip something out. Caleb’s been observing, but it’s impossible to identify what it is from his angle. Next, you hide it behind your back and turn to face him again with wide eyes and faux innocence. “Okay?”

Caleb tilts his head, that grin never fading. His gaze flickers down, trying to sneak a look at the hand you’ve tucked behind your back. He leans just slightly to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse, but you shift with him, stubborn in your effort to keep it hidden. After another couple of futile attempts, he gives up. “Okay.”

You step closer, letting your fingers brush the fabric behind your back. “Good,” you murmur. “Now, turn around.”

His brows lift in amusement. But again, no questions. He turns.

You close the distance between you in a few more steps. Then, with the same care he always shows you, you lift the soft black fabric and raise your hands. You pause for a second, your voice quiet behind him. “Do you trust me?”

He nods.

And so, you tie the blindfold in place, snug and careful, over his eyes. He seems confused at first, lashes fluttering against the blindfold while he gets used to the sudden absence of light. However, the hesitation fades the moment your hand brushes gently down the center of his back.

He exhales, muscles relaxing beneath your touch.

“You good?” you ask, voice low beside his ear, your fingers tracing the line of his spine with just enough pressure to be reassuring.

“Yeah,” he’s calm even without seeing you. He knows he can trust you. “I’m good.”

You smile at the answer, then reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. “If at any moment you feel uncomfortable,” you whisper, guiding him carefully through the hallway, “you tell me. Okay?”

He squeezes your hand. “Yes, okay.”

You reach the bedroom in silence, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards under your feet and the occasional brush of your shoulder against his arm. You lead him with care, fingers still laced with his, until his knees make contact with the edge of the bed.

“Sit.”

He lowers himself onto the mattress with the same composed ease he carries everywhere, not nervous at all. He hears your feet padding away from the bed. The blindfold doesn’t let him follow your movements, but he waits eagerly. And then, just when he starts to lean forward to say something, you’re back. You approach from behind, and he feels the bed dip with your weight. Before he can register what you’re doing, he feels your lips graze the sensitive skin just below his ear. You press feather-light kisses along the curve of his neck, following the slope down to the place where it meets his shoulder. You take your time. Let him feel the heat of your breath and the press of your mouth. He inhales sharply, shoulders twitching as he tilts his head to grant you better access.

You linger behind him for a few moments longer, pressing one last kiss before your hands begin to move. Your fingers slide over his chest, and you find the hem of his shirt, slipping your hands beneath it as your palms meet warm, smooth skin. He lets out a soft breath as your touch glides upward. His arms lift, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head and off in one clean motion.

The shirt falls to the floor, forgotten.

Now, with his torso bare and waiting, you shift your position on the bed, circling to his side so you can have a better view. From this angle, it’s impossible not to stare: his chest rises and falls in slow beats, the last golden light of sunset casting soft shadows over him. It traces the lines of his body - his broad shoulders, the strength in his arms, the defined cut of his abs, and the faint flush spreading across his pale skin. You reach up and cradle his jaw with a gentle hand, bringing his face towards yours. The blindfold is still on his eyes, but his body has a lightning-fast response. Your lips meet in a soft kiss. It starts simple and sweet, but it doesn’t last much. He leans into it almost immediately, kissing you back with the kind of hunger that makes your heart beat too fast. His hands find your waist, grounding himself in the naked curves of your body, while the other reaches up the back of your neck, urging you closer.

You smile into the kiss and bite.

Just the lightest pressure on his lower lip, to remind him who’s in control today. You feel the moment his composure starts to slip, and before he can catch it, you deepen the kiss. You slip your tongue inside his mouth, moving with flexible, rough strokes.

He groans against your mouth, low-pitched and full of lust. His hand tightens on your hip.

You shift your weight and climb into his lap. His breath hitches, and his hands instinctively move to grab a handful of your ass, but you catch them before they reach their goal.

Your fingers wrap around both of his wrists and lift his hands over his head.

“Ah-ah,” you murmur between kisses, “let me be in charge tonight.”

He exhales a laugh, biting down. “Or what?” He asks, grinning.

You lean in close, brushing your nose against his, your voice just above a whisper. “ Don’t make me tie you up too. ”

He relaxes completely beneath you, hands still in your grasp, head tilted back with a smile that makes your pulse thrum a little faster. You take your time. Let your lips find his cheek, then the curve of his jaw. From there, you trail kisses down his throat until he exhales a shaky breath that catches halfway through. You keep going. Down across his chest, the space between his ribs, his abdomen… He can’t see you, but every soft press of your lips feels magnified in the dark.

As you slide off the bed and sink to your knees before him, you hear a gasp.

Your hands move to his belt, and you feel the way he shifts under your touch, muscles flexing in anticipation. You make him wait, slowly undoing the buckle and sliding the fabric free. As you begin to lower the rest of his clothes, your gaze lifts briefly to his face. He looks wrecked already - lips parted, chest rising, and a single drop of sweat sliding down the column of his neck.

When you finally pull back to take him in fully, you lick your lips, heat building low in your belly.

Oh, he is hard. And you’ve barely done anything.

Your fingers curl around his cock, making some experimental strokes. His hips twitch in response, and his chest starts to rise harder with each passing second. You lean in, close enough that he can feel your breath ghosting over him. His hands spasm wherever they rest, retrained only by the weight of your earlier words (although you know he has the strength to take your face and fuck it if he wanted to).

“Fuuuuuck, baby - you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your lips graze over the sensitive skin of the tip at last, dick pulsing and impossibly hard in your hand. You start to give him kitten licks as your hand continues stroking, pulling more hard breaths out of his lungs.

You take your time, but eventually, you wrap your lips around him.

Caleb’s jaw clenches, a soft, choked sound escaping him as your mouth closes over the bulbous head. His whole body tightens, and the hand that had been hovering by his side finds the back of your head, but he doesn’t push.

For the first time, he is the one melting beneath you.

“God, princess,” he praises. “You’re so good for me.”

You hum in response, and the vibration alone has him cursing under his breath. You continue sucking audibly, dipping your head a few times with a fist around the base to help you. You pump and lick, feeding him deeper, inch by inch, down your throat and moaning every time his cock twitchs inside you.

Time stretches. His soft praises turn to loud moans, his voice broken and low. He’s not restraining his sounds anymore, hand gently caressing your hair as you suck heartily.

After some more time, you feel his body tense, his grip more rigid on your scalp, and that’s when you pull away.

You let his cock slip from your mouth with a pop , your breath unsteady as you wipe the slick from your lips with the back of your hand. Caleb groans and collapses fully onto the bed, one arm flung above his head, the other clutching at the sheets. You climb onto the bed and straddle his hips, your bare cunt brushing agasint his hard in a way that makes you both gasp. You shift forward just enough to let your clit graze his length, teasing him. You move slowly, rolling your hips in tight circles, dragging soft moans from your own throat. His hands reach for you on instinct, fingers grazing your thighs, finding your waist -

“What did I tell you?” You lean down so your mouth brushes his ear, guiding his wrists back above his head and pinning them with a grin.

His fingers flex under your grip, testing the invisible boundary you’ve set - it’d be so easy to just snap and have his way with you. “You’re really not gonna let me touch you, huh?”

You shake your head, smiling against his skin. “Not tonight.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “You’re evil,” he says, not even trying to hide the lust in his voice. “Beautiful and evil.”

You decide to put on a show. Since he can’t see you, every movement becomes even more electric. You roll your hips again, this time with more purpose, letting the friction soak his dick with your fluids. Your lips stay close to his ear as you begin to whisper dirty promises of what you’re going to do to him.

He lets his head fall back to the mattress, a soft curse slipping from his lips. He’s enjoying the little contact he has with you, even if his cock is eager to fill you up.

“You feel so good and big,” you whimper, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “And you’re not even inside me yet.”

That draws a shudder from him. His jaw tenses, and he tilts his head toward the sound of your voice. You lean back, your hands dragging down his chest, nails leaving red lines over his milky skin. And then, you reach between your bodies, lining him up your entrance.

His whole body stills.

“Please,” he begs.

And what kind of person are you to deny him?

Without further preamble, you sink onto him with a tremulous cry.

You pause, taking in the pleasure. He feels just so good inside you, with a cock thick enough to split you open, and long enough to fill you up to the brim. He reaches the deepest parts of you, and though your gulping little hole aches and stretches to accommodate him, you snuggle with your head in the space between his neck and shoulder and shower him with kisses.

Once you’re used to his size, you start to rock your hips exactly how you like it, letting your clit grind against his pelvis with every thrust.

Caleb’s hands curl into fists. He’s doing everything he can to let you have control. But the way your pussy squeezes around him and your moans fall, it’s a miracle he’s still managing not to fuck you stupid.

You pick up your pace, making his cock hit that spot inside you perfectly every single time. Your walls tighten around him. Every shift sends a jolt through you, pleasure sparking brighter and sharper each time. You're getting close, oh so close, and your strength is beginning to falter.

Caleb must have felt it, because without a word, his hands find your hips. In one swift motion, you’re beneath him. The mattress dips under your bodies, and a surprised gasp escapes you as he takes over completely. Even blindfolded, he knows exactly how to move - he knows every inch of your body and what you like. He sets a rougher rhythm, and his cock reaches deeper from this position. Your moans come quicker now, rising in pitch as the pressure builds. His fingers slide down the length of your body until they find your aching spot. He rubs circles on your clit matching the speed of his thrusts. All coherent thoughts leave your head, and you can only think of his hard length impaling you.

“Are you gonna come, babygirl?” he pants agaisnt your neck. “C’mon, baby, come for me.”

Your body starts to tremble as you fall apart, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and mouth gaping in a silent scream.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he praises as he continues to rub slow circles in your clit to help you come down of your orgasm.

After you finish, he pauses. You start to get up to complain, thinking he might stop, putting your pleasure first, like he always does. But then, without a warning, he tightens his grip on your hips and thrusts back into you with sudden intensity, dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Not done,” he grits, voice thick with need.

The rhythm he finds is harder now, more desperate. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, panting against your skin, the squelches of your cunt and his moans filling the room. Your legs cling to him, letting him chase his release, your name falling from his lips between gasps. His pace grows uneven and then - he stills, thrusting as deep as he can.

You feel his cum spilling deep inside you.

He collapses above you, trying not to squeeze you with his weight. You reach up and brush his damp hair from his forehead. Neither of you says a word for a long moment, just holding each other, hearts pounding in sync.

Wrapped in his arms, you press a kiss to his temple.

“Happy birthday.”

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

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"Too Deep?" (Caleb) +18

(cw. implied incest (Caleb unsurprisingly refers to himself as gege), Caleb being a little mean for once, this is smut but not nearly as explicit as I usually am, low-key (high-key) size kink, not proofread because I live on the wild side)

(u can thank @prettyboykatsuki for making me crash out to the point of blacking out and regaining consciousness having written this in one sitting...)

"Now hang on just a second," a sharp grin tugs at Caleb's face as he watches the way you pathetically try to squirm away from him. He pauses (making sure to do so while seated fully inside you), the hand that has been planted beside your head slowly gathering up your wrists and pinning them to the small of your back. Caleb leans down over you slowly. His chest presses to the sweaty and hot flesh of your back as he just barely stirs his hips down into you. His eyes darken when a broken and panicked hiccup falls from your lips. He presses his mouth to your ear.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?"

"I-I...I-I can't...!"

Long and warm fingers spread across the small of your back, the touch a subtle but comforting anchor that grounds you for just a moment. There's a tender kiss against the nape of your neck. "Does it hurt?"

"...N-No, i-it's just..."

"It's just...?" Caleb snickers as you huff, all your strength being put into throwing him the meanest glare you can muster in the moment.

"C'mon, don't be like that..." Though his voice is soft, you can't help but notice the satisfied twist that weaves through every word against your shoulder. "I can't read your mind y'know," you both know that's a lie, "gege's not gonna be able to take care of you if he doesn't know what's wrong..."

"Am I...goin' too slow?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. You shake your head softly.

"Oh, I see, I'm goin' too fast...?"

Another timid nod.

Caleb drags out a low hum as he sinks his weight into you entirely, a stupid grin on his face as your tight cunt hugs around him like you're trying to permanently make his dick part of you. You writhe under him- "Mh, that's it, huh?" He breathes into your ear, "Is gege too deep?"

"Y-Yes!" You sob into his pillow, your nails practically tearing into the dark grey case that's damp with tears and drool (a commonplace occurrence nowadays). He coos "apologetically". "Well," Caleb gives a genuine and sweet kiss to the top of your head as he moves to sit up, "we can't have that, can we?" One hand wraps around both your wrists as the other firmly plants between your shoulders and deepens the arch of your spine.

And he's too deep. You think you may actually faint.

"Just relax and let gege make you feel all better, yeah?"

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

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I WANNA BE YOURS

synopsis: Caleb has always been difficult to surprise, and in the days leading up to his birthday, that proves to still be true. Luckily for you, he can never deny you of anything.

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, established relationship, caleb and reader are both kinda switchy? oral (m! receiving) fingering, mutual masturbation, riding, praise, swearing, pet names (good girl, pipsqueak, honey etc.) gege is used flirtatiously, p in v, unprotected sex, caleb comes inside, reader bites caleb, reader sucks on a dildo, reader also throws a dildo at caleb. This is just inspired by 'no-return night' since i haven't played through the card yet and this was written before his card.

a/n: the only reason why this came out today is bcs i’ve been working on it for 2 months, and it was supposed to be posted at 6:13 but my productivity is bad so...

Ever since you and Caleb began dating, specifically getting more intimate, you've discovered more sides to him that you've never seen before.

Not just how much stamina or libido the colonel holds, but rather how much restraint he has — and how much you lack said restraint.

Simply put, you want to suck Caleb off and he won't let you.

You've tried every trick in the book; begging, whining, pawing, deals, hell you've resorted to straight-up asking him. To which he replies, in a smooth honeyed voice, “I just wanna make you feel good instead, pipsqueak. I feel good when you feel good.” It's absolutely infuriating in the most endearing way possible.

He must have been a robot in his past life to refuse such an eager request from you, out of all people.

It honestly makes you upset, frustrated to the point that you're positive he’s just a cruel man who enjoys seeing you tear up, tugging his shirt, begging for a small taste of him. The most you've gotten of his taste is the tang of his sticky cum off your fingers or an intoxicating cocktail of your shared climaxes, mixed between your tongues.

You want to feel him, all of him. You want his hot length between your lips, to feel the ache of his cock as it throbs on your wanting tongue. You want his dick, glossed in your gooey saliva and his pre-cum, to angle until the blunt tip bullies the back of your throat. You want to look up at him through your lashes, drops of tears collected on your waterline, and see the prettiest flush on his face as he looks down at you on your knees, worshiping him as he does for you. Internally, you want him to make you take all of him.

It's upsetting too since he's such a hypocrite, a man who understands your position exactly. Caleb could spend hours between your thighs, suckling and lapping at the soft folds of your twitchy pussy until his mouth and chin drool with your addictive wetness. He begs for it and you give in, every single time.

Can you blame him? He’s been waiting for years to get a taste of you. He just can't get enough of the way you whimper out his name, fingers pulling and tugging at the soft strands of his dark mahogany hair, writhing from the pleasure he gives you. But he also doesn’t seem to understand the brevity of your current situation; what’s so difficult about letting his lover suck him off!?

And so your final plan begins, one you’re certain will work: you will definitely achieve your dream of having Caleb's cock down your throat on the night of his birthday. Specifically, taking him in all the way until he bruises the back of your mouth and leaves your throat sore and voice hoarse the next morning. You figured it’d be a nice surprise along with all the other gifts you’ve spent days planning. After all, this is a birthday meant only for him.

Unfortunately, it’s always been difficult to surprise Caleb.

Ever since you two were young, he’s been difficult to surprise. The man simply knows you too well, every action out of order you make causes him to increase an inkling of suspicion that he immediately snuffs out of you through devious means. It really can’t be helped though, he has known you for your entire life, lived an eternity in your own skin.

And there’s another problem you figured would throw a kink in your plans. Everything about Caleb is big, his height, thighs, biceps… and especially his cock.

You can still recall the first time you two slept together, you were sore for days. The satisfying ache of your burning thighs always served as a reminder of your time together. And even now, no matter how much you took him or how much time he spent trying to stretch your tight cunt to accommodate his thick length, he always felt so full inside you.

So it'd be difficult (and unwise) to try and immediately have him balls deep in your throat, fucking and rocking his hips into your warm mouth until you're drooling and gagging.

But if Caleb had a match in determination and perseverance, it'd be you. You're willing to do anything to get that man in your mouth, you'll make him see what he's been denying himself of.

That's how you find yourself perched on your knees, the night before Caleb’s birthday, licking your lips while your eyes are locked onto the daunting purple dildo plastered on your wall. It’s out of place in your room. Honestly, the ridiculous item shouldn’t be here when you have a lover perfectly willing to go along with whatever you wish, all except for your deepest desire to give him head.

It's certainly no Caleb. The toy lacks his intoxicating warmth, his sensual musk that clings, and the satisfying thickness of his cock that stretches your pretty pussy so well, reaching into the deepest parts of you.

As you run your tongue along the cold underside, feeling the blunt ridges of the plastic veins pressing down onto your wet muscle, you can only dream that it's Caleb instead. You envision that it's his pulsing veins, throbbing for the warmth of your soothing tongue like a balm for his arousal, his cock that weighs heavily in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to take the toy in deeper until it fills the warm cavern of your mouth completely, jaw slack and drool dripping from the corners of your lips, stretched wide around the purple plastic. The tip barely teases the back of your throat but you find yourself gagging, saliva sticking to the toy in webs as you pull off.

You imagine that it's Caleb panting above you, cheeks flushed with the prettiest shade of crimson, looking down at you with a gentle hand threaded into the strands of your hair, guiding you back to his aching cock that leaks with the tang of his pre and your spit, eagerly feeding his girth to you. His eyes would be glazed with the familiar look of want and need, hips bucking sloppily into the warm wetness as you allow him to fill up the space of your throat, setting the rhythm however he pleases.

And fuck, the thought of him like that soaks you. You want him to use your mouth, claim it as nothing but a hole for his pleasure. Maybe it's his devoted personality or the contrast of his usual composure, but you want him to lose control, to fuck into your mouth without restraint, using you for all the pleasure he gives you.

Quickly, your fingers slide down your body. The soft pads of your digits tweak at your sensitive nipples and your back curves into a beautiful arch, searching for your own touch. Your free hand slithers down even lower, gliding down the expanse of your stomach, further past the waistband of your shorts, diving below the sopping fabric of your panties.

The sweetest gasp is elicited when your middle and forefinger find your clit, shivering and moaning around the plastic in your mouth as you caress in slow circles, trying your best to mimic the familiarity of Caleb's movement if he were here. It's almost absurd how sensitive you feel, like your nerves are shot, already feeling overstimulated even though you're barely gracing yourself with the wisps of euphoria.

Gradually, your slow rotations turn faster, collecting globs of your heady slick to rub tight circles around your wanton clit. The wetness allows your finger to slide into your fluttering pussy with ease, stroking along the gummy walls that clench greedily, angling into the sweet spot that has your moans vibrating onto the dildo.

But it shouldn't be this stupid toy you're moaning around, shouldn't be your fingers you're fucking yourself stupid on, it should be Caleb. It should be Caleb's heavy cock you choke on, his fingers that pump into you, pressing against that spot that has your toes curling and the tight knot bubbling in your stomach.

Even if this is his surprise, you want him here, watching you. You want his eyes to look at you like he always does, hungry and wanting. You want him to touch you, to feel his warm palms as they slide down the expanse of your body, groping at your tits, and playing with your sensitive clit. You want him here.

"Pipsqueak?"

Shit.

Before you can help it, your orgasm barrels through your traitorous body, shocking into your nervous system like igniting sparks of lightning. It's a matter of split seconds before you jump away from the toy, your body heaving with heavy breaths and your cheeks burning red. Your eyes snap up to him and the expression of shock set on his beautiful features, you look away, around the room before you realize the position you're in.

What the hell do you even say? Shouldn't he be in Skyhaven? You’re supposed to meet at his house tomorrow, so why the hell is he here?

It feels like a million beats of your heart passes by before you start hesitantly, eyes flickering up to him. "Cal-"

"What are you doing?"

He cuts you off, eyes baring down on your kneeling form, pupils roaming over your body. For a second, you wonder if he's upset, but as your gaze migrates down his body, settling on the bulge hidden in his pants, it doesn't seem that way. Rather, quite the opposite.

Well, better now than never. Your surprise is already ruined anyway.

"Just…" You trail off, swallowing the built up saliva in your sore throat. An excuse fails to rise in your mind, too far gone in the moment to even think about denying what he's just witnessed.

Heavily, you sigh, heat creeping up your neck before you find the words quickly spilling from you, created in a rush of flustered anger before even processing what you’re saying.

"I just wanna give you a blowjob and you won't let me, Caleb! What am I supposed to do but suck on this stupid toy because you won't let me give you head!? You wanna eat me out every time we have sex and I always let you, but you won't let me give you head! You're a hypocrite!"

Rather indignantly during your haphazard flurried spew of words, you reach for the wet dildo that's still suctioned to your wall, fingers clasping around it as you pull it off and fling the purple plastic his way, missing his frozen body completely.

“It’s always like this! I don’t understand why you’re denying me, I just wanna make you feel good too! I just wanna give you a special present…”

He doesn't say anything, no response to your words that are obviously created for him to take pity on you, a final surge to get what you want. He simply watches you until a small, sympathetic smile makes its way to his pink lips, pants growing taut against his arousal.

You’re just too cute.

Caleb hopes you don't blame for getting hard (or do blame him, he wants your attention). He can't help the betrayal of his body's reaction to his gorgeous lover, partly because he walked in on you with your hands between your thighs, and a toy stretching your throat, and partly because he's never realized how good you look on your knees.

It's a sight he never lets himself indulge in.

It's bad, it's something he'll get too addicted to. It’s the ripe beckon of a forbidden fruit hanging off a low branch that he must tear himself away from.

A greedy man like him should never get something like that from you, not when he should be the one pleasing you. He's satisfied enough with getting to feel your cunt fluttering around his cock, your lips on his, and the taste of you. Even with simply that, he's already too far gone.

He'd never tell you but that's a reason why he's insistent on not letting your warm mouth encase his cock. Caleb is a man who knows himself well. He knows that the moment your tongue runs along the sensitive veins, soft cheeks hollowing around the ridges of his dick — he'll be goner, reduced to a man at your euphoric mercy, even more so than he already is.

So he can't do it. Can't indulge in himself more than he already does with your body, even if it tortures him every time to rebuke your attempts (to be honest, he also likes seeing you beg). But when you're crawling to him, sitting at his feet, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, and leaning forward until your soft mouth is pressed to the strained fabric, he doesn't find himself telling you off.

"Please, Caleb?" You whine, voice sending the smallest vibrations through his cock, slithering up through his nerves to paint the apples of his cheeks red.

He was so strong and disciplined the other times so why not now? Is it because he caught you, knuckles deep in your own pussy, moaning around a cock or because he's been denying himself of this act for so long? Or because you’re doing this for him?

Perhaps both, but he blames the sight of you already on your knees, eager to please, even eagerer because it's him.

And all of a sudden, it's too hot. You're too pretty, too eager, such a pretty girl begging for something so dirty. Something he knows he shouldn't give into.

"What are you doin' to me?" His voice cracks, a whisper, a final plea before you see that reluctant look in his eye, Adam's apple bobbing with the heavy gulps of saliva.

Checkmate.

With eager hands, you're pushing his shirt up slightly to expose the ridge of his iliac furrow, taking in the quiet stuttering of his shallow breath as your lips find his hot flesh, kissing your way lower to follow the trail of his pants being pulled down.

"Thank you, Caleb." You murmur gently, mouth panting against the thin briefs that stand as the only layer between you and your well earned prize.

For a second, Caleb thinks you're teasing him, toying with him since he denied you of this for so long, but your voice sounds genuine. Too grateful, too reverent for him. He thinks he might cum just from the pressure of your wispy breath and the vibrations of your syllables.

"Don't, fuck, don't say things like that when you're on your knees like this." He throws his head back, fingers clenched at his sides as he looks down upon your kneeling form. He really can't believe he's letting you do this. But if it were anyone, it’d have to be you.

And he sucks in a breath when your soft, warm tongue swipes across his sensitive, leaky tip, a broken whine ripping from his throat at the slight pressure. The pleasure bubbles from his stomach, crawling through his nerves, climbing effortlessly to muddle his brain. He can't help the way his hips almost twitch, his body almost too eager to give into the sliver of attention to his throbbing ache, too excited to delve into your inviting warmth.

He's absolutely doomed.

You almost smile when he croaks out your name, a plea of sorts, a whine to relieve what you've started. With great pleasure, you blink up at him, your own breath hitching when you catch sight of his heaving chest, his bottom lip tugged between the rows of his teeth, cheeks flushed a heavy pink at your ministrations.

Caleb's lavender irises hold set on your kneeling form, drinking in how the head of his cock rests on your pink tongue, drooling precum, and how eagerly you lap it all up. He wants to look at you, but when you run your tongue along the thick, sensitive veins, his eyes flutter tightly shut as if the pleasure will soothe away and he can find it in himself to not shoot his load all over your face.

The mental image does not help at all. Rather, he feels himself getting harder in the walls of your mouth. It's so vivid in his mind, your cheeks stained with his hot load as you blink up at him, tongue lolled out to show how well you swallowed his seed.

It's filthy. The scenario is one he often indulges in on nights alone with his fingers wrapped tightly around the sticky flesh of his throbbing cock, stroking himself off to the thought of his cock stuffing your cheeks, and never in your presence. But now, you've got him wrapped around your finger and buried in your mouth. He's sure you're pleased with yourself right now.

And you are, quite so now that you have what you want. As you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, admiring its sheer size and how heavy it is as it rests against your face, you also notice how Caleb looks at this moment; heat blooming across his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, and hands fisted at his side like touching you will burn him more than his body already is.

You allow yourself to wrap your lips around the tangy head of his cock, suckling softly while your hands reach for his, gently guiding them to rest on the strands of your hair. His fingers twitch, almost burying into the tendrils of hair, but he doesn't, holding onto that last bit of restraint in his muddled mind.

It pisses you off. You're on your knees for him (literally) and he still wants to hold back?

With a soft moan bubbling in your throat, you sink deeper onto his cock. An act that finally has his fingers curling around your hair and a hissing gasp to escape him. Even with only a few inches filling your throat, it nearly burns. A familiar stretch that you're used to filling up your slick pussy cunt rather than the cavern of your mouth.

Your saliva builds around his girthy dick, slickening the swift bobbing of your head, making it easier to glide down along his length. The brief practice on the toy did little to help because the way his dick stuffs your throat is vastly different. He's warm, hard, and moaning the sweet syllables of your name, all things that the piece of plastic severely lacked. And all things that have the space in your thighs growing slick once more.

Caleb can't help himself any longer. He can't help the way his fingers curl into the strands of your hair, tugging gently despite his best attempts not to. Can't help the whining and groaning of your name that fall from his lips. He's so fucking hard, so sensitive, and the gentle constricting of your throat makes it all worse. His breath hitches, fingers uncurling to pet at your bobbing head, soothing the mussed strands — a praise his mouth fails to form.

Slowly, meticulously, like he's holding himself back, his hips rock against your mouth, pushing inches deeper until your own eyes squint shut and he's reaching places the toy didn't that has you gagging. And it almost makes him feel bad when he looks down at you, face stuffed full of his thick cock, veins drooling with your saliva, hands wrapped around the ridges of his dick that you can’t take down.

But he also can’t stop, not that you want him to. His mouth releases breathy groans, hips humping against your sloppy mouth with his head thrown back, cheeks flushed and hair sweaty. The evidence of your love and lust is strewn all over his body in waves of pleasure and euphoria.

Your throat envelopes his length so well, the symphony of lewd squelching fills the hot air of your bedroom, growing louder as you try to take him even deeper. A little too deep. His cock hits the back of your throat, gagging and almost spluttering in short coughs before you pull off, mouth open and bands of spittle connecting your tongue to the angry, flushed tip.

His palm doesn't move from your head when you back off, unrestrained whines tearing from his throat at the loss of your addicting warmth. His large hand pets your head gently in a soothing rhythm while he pants heavily, crooning soft reassurances. "You, fuck, okay, baby? Did so good for me, so, so good. You don't have to keep-"

His voice pitches when your tongue is on his cock once more, swallowing him into your mouth with vigor. His eyes are trained on you, flickering from your eyes to the way your mouth envelopes his thick girth, saliva wetting his throbbing veins. Praises spew from his mouth, soothing reassurances, hips bucking with the urgent need to cum.

"So gorgeous, ha, so pretty with my cock stuffed in your throat. My pretty girl, good girl, takin' it so well."

You bask in his generous praise, soaked between your thighs as you try to take him farther into your sloppy maw again, but you're prevented by his gentle hand rebuking you, holding you still on his cock, and subdued by his gentle reprimands. "Easy, no need to be so eager. ‘S all yours, all yours."

He moans it like he's coaxing himself. It's all yours, this is just for you and no one else. No one else sees him this vulnerable, this exposed, this desperate for a touch. Only for you.

He punctuates his words with lazy humps into your sloppy maw, not too deep, not too shallow either. The familiar itch of an orgasm crawls up his throbbing cock, the tip of his dick growing sensitive as you continue savoring him, allowing him to use you as he pleases. His fingers tighten in your hair, voice dwindling into a low keening groan of your name while his body curls in, shoulders tensing, body growing overwhelmingly susceptible to the onslaught of bliss.

“Pi-pipsqueak, fuck, ‘m close.” He whines loudly, head falling forward to drink in the sight of your mouth suctioned around his hot length. Violet irises are trained on your lips stretched around the base of his cock, the schlicking of your spit, and, hell, the sight of your hand between your thighs, no doubt toying with your needy clit, dripping all over your palm.

“Gonna cum, shit, get off, baby. ‘Mgonnacumgonnacumgonncum-"

And he really can’t hold back when your warm hand reaches up to cup his balls, flattening your tongue along the blunt head of his pearly tip, swirling and sucking to milk his cum out.

His orgasm barrels into him rapidly, a groaning whimper of your name torn from his lips. His balls tighten in your fingers, body tensing while his hips lose control and buck up, deeper than he should. It has you gagging once more, unable to pull off from his fingers buried in your hair. Caleb holds you down against his thick cock, nose almost smushed against his sweaty pelvis for a second. One. Two. Three. Until the blissful spasms relieve his body.

Gently pinned by Caleb, warm spurts of his sticky, thick seed fill your mouth, flooding your tastebuds, shooting down your throat in messy, white rivulets. Even when you pull off, he’s still cumming, pleading your name when your hand replaces the friction of your wet mouth, stroking him off the rest of his high.

Ropes of his release continue to spill, ribbons splattering onto your cheeks, sliding down onto your outstretched tongue, joining the pool of his ivory cum already in your mouth. Your eyes flutter open, catching sight of your lover panting, chest heaving, and bottom lip caught between his teeth while he looks down at you.

Caleb always thinks you look pretty, but here, right now, he thinks you look the prettiest. You, down on your knees with your cheeks bathed in white streaks of his cum. His twitching cock settles on your face, the heavy weight presses on your tongue as you lap away the remaining pearls of his cum dribbling down the ridges and onto the skin of your fingers.

"Mmm, was that okay?" You question softly, voice murmured against his softening cock, peering up at him through the canopy of your lashes.

Your question is answered when he tugs you up quickly, eagerly pressing his lips to yours, his heavy tongue darting out to pry your mouth open, tasting himself on you.

"You- fuck, did so good, pipsqueak." His praise is smushed against your lips, unwilling to break the kiss, straight-laced on maintaining any connection he has with you. "So, so good."

He kisses you harder, wetter, and messier than when you were on your knees for him. Caleb kisses you like a starving man, insistent and overwhelming, pushing himself into your space until your senses are filled with nothing but his immense presence.

The tangy taste of his cum is swapped between the two of you and he's moaning at the mixed taste. The taste of him and you, swirled together more intimately than anyone could ever get, a flavor only he gets to savor on your tongue.

In the mess of your hazy kisses, drunk off each other's intoxicating taste, you both stumble through the room, the stench of blissed arousal mixing in the air. Your arms wrap around his neck, mouth open to invite his tongue to meet yours in a familiar rhythm, urging him impossibly closer to your warm heat.

Caleb takes the opportunity to latch his hands around your hips, pushing backward until the back of your knees finds the edge of your bed frame, falling backward onto your back with him following soon after. He collapses on top of you, supported by his hands on either side of your head, admiring how you look in the dim light.

Your hair splays around the sheets, framing your flushed features that gaze up at him so lovingly. Swollen lips tugged between your teeth so prettily and your breasts heaving with heavy breaths, inhaling his recognizable scent that’s lived with you for as long as you remember.

With a heavy sigh, Caleb allows himself to fall forward, headfirst into the swell of your breasts. He feels completely boneless, blissed out, and completely satisfied with the aftershocks of pleasure thrumming through his veins. But that doesn't stop his adventurous fingers from skittering along the mound of your thighs, slipping in between the space of your legs, immediately finding your clit through your soaked panties.

After all, he can't leave his special girl unsatisfied now, can he?

"Hm, so wet, aren't 'cha?" He murmurs against your breast, a loving smile on his lips. "That's alright, let me clean that up for you, sweetheart.”

With practiced ease, he slips your shirt over your head, revealing the hardening buds of your nipples in the heated air. The sensitive buds are taken into his warm mouth, suckling on the tit just as gently as you did on him earlier. His tongue is warm and wet, rolling the nipple along his tongue, moaning at the taste of your salty skin.

The ministration has your back curving into an arch, his free hand sliding under you, reaching around to grope and pinch at your other mound. He curls into your side to cradle you against his warm torso, one arm wrapped behind you, the other slipped between your thighs with practiced ease.

His fingers are lithe and long, with veins running from his wrist down to the calloused pads that roll your clit gently, coaxing the softest moans to fall from you. Caleb likes it better this way, more than when your mouth was stuffed full with his cock. He likes hearing you, seeing your cheeks bloom with heat, face to face as he toys with the body he knows so well.

He's swiping at your sensitive pearl until you're burying your face into the crook of his sweaty neck, mouthing at his salty skin, and digging your nails painfully into his strong biceps. He plays around with your cunt, making sure every calculated pressure and touch sends your mind reeling into some pool of euphoria, too mind-numbing to even consider what he's doing to you.

You want it. You want him. You want everything of him.

"Caleb," Your voice escapes as a breathy whine, hot against his skin. "Please, no need for this… I already came once, 'm wet enough."

Caleb only laughs softly, sympathetic to your eagerness. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, a dizzying contrast to his fingers that prod around your clenching hole. You already know what he's going to say, insisting that he stretches you out, but it doesn’t subdue the ache burning at your body and restraint. Attentive, as he's always been.

"Can't do that, sweetheart." He smiles against your head, inhaling the scent of your hair as his fingers dip just barely into your sopping heat, the gentle pads of his finger feeling inside your gooey walls. A motion that has you gasping, hands shooting to hold his wrist as if he'll stop and think about your plea. "That wasn't from me, it doesn't count."

The last part is said with lingering possession, a glint in his eyes as he stares down upon you. He wasn't the one to stretch you out, it doesn't count if it's the work of your own fingers, doesn't count if he isn't the one to take care of you.

"'S just quick, honey. Be a good girl and let me take care of you, yeah? It’s what the birthday boy wants." A smile curls at his lips, kind, gentle, warm. Like he wasn't just moaning your name, humping your mouth, and shooting ropes of sticky cum down your throat minutes prior. “Weren’t you sucking that dildo for me? Practicing for my cock down your throat on my birthday?”

“Wha- how did-”

Before you can question, he silences you with a kiss, tongue drawn into yours in a quiet hush. Unfortunately, it works. Placates the ache building in your cunt, mind succumbed to the movement of his lips against yours, sucking and rolling on your tongue in languid movements.

“How could I not know? We’ve spent so many years together, do you really need to ask at this point?”

Against your thigh, you can feel his cock twitching back to life, reacting to your curves that meld against the smooth ridges of his body. A knowing sigh leaves his lips, kissed to yours when you, predictably, send your hand dancing down the length of his torso, wrapping your smooth fingers around his girth.

The steady flicks of your wrist have him gasping into your lips, pulling away slightly to meet your coy gaze, set on his purple hues.

"I left all the planning for you. Who would’ve thought that you wanted this." He says, smug and amused. That is, until your palm domes over the sensitive head of his cock, hissing out a gasp and a sharp buck of his hips.

His reaction sends a gratifying thrill through your body, all the power held in your hands, and so pleased at his body's betrayal. "Don't tease me, Caleb."

"Alright, alright, I won't." He rumbles, apologizing with a kiss on your lips and the sinking of a single finger into your walls.

His finger is long, reaching deeper than yours ever could, all the way down to his knuckle. It slides in with a prurient squelch, joining the repetitive 'schlick schlick' of your hand encasing Caleb's cock, pumping over him in rhythmic motions. Along with a quiet groan, he connects his lips to yours, swallowing the whine that escapes when he slides another finger into the slick mess between your legs.

It's erotic, the heady air stifling the room. Your hips twist, unabashed against his fingers, forcing his warm pads to brush along that special spot that has your features contorting in pleasure and your back arching into his body. Your muscles constrict, legs shaking lightly when he adds his thumb to the mix, rubbing quick circles against your sensitive bud that has your body keening instantly for him.

It'd be almost unfair if he wasn't also so far gone in your touch. Caleb can't help the way his hips buck and twitch into your closed fist. Your warm palm runs along the ridges of his cock, curving over his blunt tip so gently to collect the pearls of pre, fucking it back over his cock, sending a sensation just shy of pain up his spine. It’s so fucking sensitive, everything is. Enhanced by your mere presence, he feels like he could just combust.

Whatever effect he has on you is increased tenfold on him.

You're panting against each other's mouth, swallowing moans and swapping webs of saliva. Each push of his fingers in you sends the filthiest sound resonating throughout the bedroom, the hot air intoxicating the both of you, wrapped in each other's embrace along with the gentle stoking of euphoric bliss.

Amidst your constant moans, hips pumping sloppily over his three fingers, you manage to call his name out in broken syllables. Quiet, a plea to him.

"Caleb, enough, please." You purr his name, free hand digging crescent marks into his skin.

Everything is so wet; his cock, your cunt, your lips, your bodies. Everything is filled with an ache that needs to be filled, pieces of a puzzle only for each other to solve and savor.

You don't wait for him to respond before you're untangling yourself from his numbed limbs, pushing him onto his back to settle into his lap. The loss of his fingers almost erupts a whine to bubble in your lips, hushed by the feel of his cock straining under the warmth of your body, pulsing against your belly.

His cock stands tall against the expanse of your stomach, bigger than what you remember having in your mouth.

Caleb is, by no means, a small man. He's well-endowed in many forms, and his cock is no exception. The sight of it against your stomach makes your mouth water once more. He's big and burly, with angry, thick veins running along his shaft. Pearls of pre dribble down his length, pooling onto his abdomen, begging to be licked up.

No matter how many times you've seen it, your gaze is always caught, breath hitched in your throat at the realization that this has been inside you, streaming thick jets of seed in you, claiming you.

"You've seen it before," Caleb's voice snaps you out of your stupor, flickering up to his eyes. "Why so shocked? You just had it in your mouth earlier, scared?"

His eyes fill with mirth, an emotion he really shouldn't be feeling in the moment. A warm laugh of lasciviousness escapes him as his hands travel up the plains of your body, cupping your tits once more to roll the buds between his dexterous hands. He's always so smug when it comes to this, a sense of joy encapsulating his heart when he sees how dearly you adore his cock. And while some men may take offense at being seen for such a thing, Caleb drinks in all the joy.

He especially drinks in the way his cock drools onto your navel. It's pretty, the way the beads of pre cum smear onto your stomach, eager to sink in your tight warmth. If you want it this way, so be it. He's already given into your desires earlier, what's one more for you?

What's one more of anything for you, really?

His hips find purchase on your hips, looking up at your expression, a want that mirrors his own. Slowly, he pulls you forward, chest to chest, ensuring that your warm folds meet his burning cock, lathering himself thick with your slick.

The touch has the both of you groaning out. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, curling at the cool metal of his dog tag as your clit rolls over the underside of his cock, frictioned between a vein of pulsing arousal, sending short shocks of bliss through your nerves. It has you leaking even more, pussy drooling over his hard cock.

"Caleb… come on." You plead, hips lifting with thick strands of arousal connecting your cunt to his length. You shouldn't even need to beg, your gooey cunt is practically crying for him anyways.

In response, his hands on your hips tighten, easily pushing and pulling you over his painfully hard cock. His blunt tip kisses your clit, slit spilling his arousal over the pearly bundle of nerves, creating a slippery friction between the two of you. The friction sings between you both, squelches created with every passionate motion.

"You're the one on me, pipsqueak. You wanted to be on top, didn't you?"

And you know he wants you too, even more than you. But Caleb is mean, a bully who lives to see you whine and beg (it gets him impossibly harder to see you rely on him, needing him). Even as his cock throbs, blood flushing through the veins of his cock, felt right under the sensitive hood of your weeping cunt.

If the heat simmering between you two wasn't consuming your mind, thinking with your drooling pussy instead of your mind, you'd have hopped off and left him rock hard for teasing you so cruelly. He's lucky you want him right now.

So with trembling hands, your fingers wrap around the tip of his cock, pulling slightly off your sticky clit, strings of arousal breaking off before guiding him to your throbbing hole. The slicked head presses insistently against you, hot against your core, barely breaching through your tight rim.

Slowly, you finally sink down.

The two of you gasp at the intrusion, features twisting and curving into one of pleasure and hot relief. Your breath is knocked from your lungs, oxygen flying out as your thighs burn with pressure. Inside and out. Your eyes flutter shut, nails raking into his shoulders while he fills up the deepest parts of you.

He's just so big. A feature of him that's made even more prominent when he's angling his hips up to smooch at your g-spot that he knows so well.

Warm, wet, velvety walls pillow his throbbing cock, a low hiss escaping from his kiss-bitten lips.

"Ah, fuck, sweets… so fucking tight…" Hot palms press against your hips, pulling you both chest to chest, feeling the rapid thumping of your heart against his. The rhythmic cadence mirrors one another, beating in sync like a perfectly timed metronome.

Your sweat-slicked skin glides smoothly against his chest as you lift up, leaving just the sensitive head of his dick nestled inside your gummy walls before you’re sliding down with a delicate moan tumbling from your lips. The swift movement leaves you lightheaded, numbed from liquid bliss that jets through every high-strung nerve. Your pussy swallows him up so greedily, unwilling to let him go.

“Caleb.” You keen the syllables of his name, raspy and breathy.

Gods, he thinks he can cum just from that. Just the sound of his name falling from your lips is enough for him to feel the burning heat shooting up his spine, dick twitching with the need to claim your womb with his potent seed. The urge to cum flies through his mind, lips finding the seam of yours to kiss, swallow, consume every part of you.

Your senses fill with just him as his dick presses so gently in your core, enhanced every time you sink onto him, sheathing his warm length in the gooey heat of your messy cunt. The squelch that follows is obscene, a beg from your greedy pussy to keep him close, buried in you. Even if your mind, filled with the feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of you at your own pace, is incapable of voicing your pleasure, he finds that he’ll listen to your pussy instead.

In response to the salacious noise, strong arms slither around your waist to pull you impossibly closer; heart to heart, lips on lips, holding you close like a secret for himself. A secret he'd never give away, tucked into the smooth crevices of his beating heart, protected by the curved bones of his ribs.

You're a secret meant only for him, a special pedestal chiseled out in his soul for you.

The reverberation of flesh on flesh resonates throughout the room. Your hips drop down on him repeatedly, mixed with the grinding of your hips, rolling your aching clit on the surface of his body. Your arms pull him close by his neck, tongue tangling with his to devour the mantra of your name that leave his lips, trailing down to suck and mark the column of his smooth neck.

Hues of rose bloom against his pale flesh, contrasting against the silver of his necklace, cool on his heated flesh. Caleb allows his head to loll back, holding you tight against him, allowing you to bounce yourself on his cock, using him for your desires.

That’s all he ever wants from you — he simply wishes for you to use him, own him, ruin him. Caleb simply wants to be yours.

“So good, baby. Doin’ so good for me, using’ me so good.” His praise falls loosely as if you can even understand his words amidst your endless mewls of his name, helplessly clinging onto him like a lifeline.

But even clinging onto Caleb doesn’t help the burning muscles of your thighs that increase with every rise off his cock, dropping down so your greedy hole can swallow the thick length once more. And to your dismay, the slowing pace has the wisps of your orgasm slipping through your grasp, the edges of bliss teetering away that pulls a desperate whine from your lips.

“Caleb,” You beg, nails raking down his shoulders. The simple word is enough for him to know what you want, asking him for help like you always do. Running to the only person you’ve ever relied on. He’s the only person you should rely on. “Please, please, ‘m so close…”

“You’re close?” Caleb preens, voice hot and ragged against your ear. “What do you need, hm? Tell me, tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, just tell gege."

He’s not exactly asking, the answer is obvious, even if he didn’t know you like the back of his hand. He can feel it from your fluttering walls, the pitch of your moans, the flurried babbles of unintelligible whimpers that spew from your swollen lips. He knows from the simmering of your body against his, sloppy hips losing the momentum you’ve worked so hard to build, racing to finish around his cock.

His poor girl, getting so tired from riding him. It’s okay, he thinks, he’ll take care of you. Just like he always does.

But he still wants to hear you, wants to listen to that pretty voice he’s spent years devoting himself to. He wants to listen to you plea for his help, rely on him just a little longer, need him just a little more.

“Wanna cum! Wanna cum around your cock, Caleb.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, hips never stopping its irregular rhythm despite the aching burn in your muscles. “Please, I need you. Need you to make me cum.”

The sound of your sweet beg fills his flushed ears, prompting him to pull you closer, hands splayed on your back as his feet anchor into the soft mattress. The next feeling you receive from him is a deep, sharp thrust up into your soaked cunt, cock kissing all the sensitive parts in you.

Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.

The sharp movement has you tipping forward into his chest, arms feebly holding onto him while he bounces you on his thick length, pistoning his girth into your weeping pussy. Salacious squelches follow with every plunge, strings of wetness sticking him to you in webs whenever he pulls out, eager to delve back in. And you can do nothing but take it.

You can do nothing but take the blunt head of his cock as it bullies into your gummy walls, thumb rolling tight circles on your sensitive clit until he has your back curving into him, eyes fluttering shut from the pressure building in your stomach, electricity shooting through you in tiny bursts.

“Need me, huh?” He coos, lilting and proud. You need him. You need him to make you cum because you can’t do it yourself, you need him to bring you to the finish because only he can do it — slotting himself into your life once more.

And Caleb relishes in it. Lives for it. Lives for you. For the way you cling onto him, the seam of your lips pressing wet, hot kisses to his neck, the syllables of his name falling from your lips like a mantra. He lives for the way your cunt flutters around his cock, earning a pleased groan from the man as he feels you quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Close?” He whispers, already knowing the answer. He knows your body better than you do, aware of the blissed pulsing of your pussy and the pitches of your moans that signal your impending climax — all shooting straight to his cock, swallowed in your warmth.

Caleb keeps his persistent pace, panting softly with his cheeks dusted in rosy desire. His hips don’t stop, pulled tighter against you, a hand snaked between your heated torsos to rub at your raw clit, pushing you closer and closer towards the teetering edge of numbing pleasure.

Your body feels like it’s in suspension, torn between a foggy mist of euphoric haze and sharp bursts of electricity numbing your mind. Everything is so sensitive, so wet, so hot. Everything is too much for your body to contain, too much to process.

“O-oh, ‘m cummingcumming, ngh-”

Before you know it, your teeth sinks into the soft junction of Caleb’s neck and shoulder, igniting a sharp gasp from him as your body convulses, tensing and shaking in his hold. Everything completely whites out with a drawn out moan, muffled into his salty flesh. Static floods your mind as you cum around Caleb’s intrusive length, still pistoning in and out of your cunt, leaving it pliable, fuckable for his cum to nestle in your womb.

“Come on, cum for me, sweet girl. Go on, be a good girl, cum nice and hard for me.” Caleb groans out, voice ragged and rough with his own need to cum.

Your tight pussy swallows him whole, hips smooching against yours, cock head grinding perfectly to hit that sweet spot that overstimulates you until you’re biting at his skin, marking him up like a toy. Laying claim on him, making him yours.

It’s enough to make him cum, pushed over the edge. Enough to have him groaning out your name in a choked moan, muscles rippling with bursts of pleasure shooting through his abdomen, his erratically jerking into you. Pools of lavender squint shut while Caleb messily thrusts up into you, hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass to keep you still so the hot, sticky ropes of cum can spurt freely into your welcoming womb. Filled, and fucked back into you, over and over and over.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘s so good—”

Your lips smush onto his, hushing his cries of pleasure. His hands alter you to rock against him, reliving and clasping onto the last aftershocks of numbing pleasure rippling throughout the stems of your nerves. Your tongues move languidly through mewls and groans while your warm palms wander along his skin, mapping out the curves and contours of his body, engraving every detail to memory. Eventually, your hands settle on the space between his collarbone and jaw, thumb massaging the reddening divots against his pale skin created by your teeth.

With a soft sigh, you’re the first to pull away to admire his flushed features, looking lovingly up at you. You lean forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, mumbling softly, “Gonna tell me why you were here?”

Caleb sighs, a wispy smile set on his lips, twirling a strand of your hair around a lithe finger, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He's sure you already know anyway, he has a third eye just for you, after all.

“I just missed you. I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you, but I guess I caught you at a good time though, huh?”

You flush at that, heat blooming on your cheeks even more than you already are. A gentle finger smooths along the crevices of his chest, the tip of your digit dragging with feather-light pressure on where his heart lays, beating fast and hard against the warm pad. “Was supposed to be a surprise…”

Caleb only laughs, kissing away the adorable pout. "Don't worry, I'll act surprised if you want me to. Just don't expect me to go easy on you when that time comes."

He pulls you close, burying his face into the soothing scent of your hair, mixed with the lingering stench of sex and love. He could stay like this forever, with you in his arms, cock softening in your cum-filled cunt, drowning in your familiar presence.

If he could ask for anything for his birthday, it'd be to stay like this. To hide you away from the rest of the world, curled into his protection. He wants to carve you into his heart, caged into the gaps of his ribs where he knows you'll be safe, relying on him. If not, he'd want to live in you. To be settled into your heart, webbed tight into the vessels of your pumping veins, providing everything you'll ever need.

Caleb simply wishes to be close to the one in his heart.

You wrap your arms around him too, clinging to his warmth. Caleb is your sun, always there, always shining, even on the days you forget to look up. He's always a part of your life and you want him there, no matter what. You want Caleb, just Caleb.

With a low sigh, your eyes flicker to the clock on your nightstand, showing in clear, white numbers.

12:00 am, June 13.

"Caleb?" You murmur, hushed and quiet.

His eyes, once fluttered shut, open immediately at the sound of your alluring voice calling for him. He responds with a low hum, fingers mindlessly circling haphazard lines and shapes into your skin as you relax on his chest.

"Happy birthday."

The simple words almost surprise him. He knows you've been planning for quite a while now, eager to give him the best celebration ever, but it's different hearing it like this. Especially when he has you pieced into his large frame, sweaty and sluggish and limp from pleasure. It's different when you murmur it so gently, your voice filled with the cadence of love and devotion.

There are no words that appear in his mind when you whisper to him, only the sudden need to pull you closer, press his heart to yours. He doesn't say anything, only sealing the seam of his lips to yours in a reverent kiss.

"Thank you, honey." Caleb’s lips curl into a boyish smile, charming and sweet.

"Will you tell me what you'll wish for?" Your eyes twinkle with mirth, teasing him affectionately. “I’ll make sure it definitely comes true.”

Caleb can only muster up a laugh, mussing up the strands of your hair with a shake of his head. "No can do, pipsqueak, my lips are sealed shut. If I tell you, it won't happen, you know?"

The response has you rolling your eyes, hands darting up to pinch and tug at his cheeks in retaliation. The answer doesn’t satiate the curiosity in you, only igniting your desire to extract the answer out of him. It ignites a hearty laughter from Caleb who tugs you close, rolling you two over until you're pinned under his large torso, nosing at your cheek with a wide grin.

He wouldn’t tell you. Or maybe you already knew, you always seemed to know things about himself that he didn't. Maybe you already know that he wishes for you to be his forever. In every lifetime. To seek out your soul to hold, bind, and sink into his. He wants to have your hand in his, to descend from the sky with you in his arms.

In this lifetime and every life after, Caleb only wants to be yours.

"Tell me, Caleb!" You whine, pushing him away to no avail. "Please… gege?"

That has Caleb’s breath hitching, a breathy sigh escaping his lungs in exasperation. How does he reject that? Your pleading expression, lips set in a tempting pout, and eyes begging to know his heart’s selfish desire.

Simple, he can’t.

So he lightly flicks your forehead, immediately leaning forward to soothe the touch with a kiss.

“If I tell you,” he murmurs, smooth voice vibrating against your temple, “then you have to make sure it absolutely comes true, alright?”

A smile follows his words, curving wider when he sees your eager nod. His warm palm raises, thumb brushing along the underside of your eyes, curving along delicate lashes reverently before he cups your cheek. His irises flicker over your features, a hurricane of unrecognizable emotions flashing through his face.

“I wish,” he begins, pulling you tighter against him, careful to not smush you under his comforting weight, “that I get a little more of you every year. I wish for gravity to always bring me back home to you so I can see you by my side every day.”

Silence follows his words, the air growing thick between you both. Caleb looks down at you with an expression that can only be described as love, holding his breath for your response. He isn’t uncomfortable with you, far from it, but he’s a man afraid of being weak — vulnerable to the one nestled so deeply in his heart. Even with simple colds and illnesses, he hides away from you, so how can he reveal such a profound, selfish desire that constantly consumes his mind?

“Will you grant me that?” He asks, voice low and soft like he’s afraid that you’ll turn him away, “Can you grant me my selfish desires?”

A tempered heat simmers between your bodies before you let out a quiet laugh, not amused nor mocking, just one of happiness to mirror the ripples of love in your heart. It’s moments like these when you realize your Caleb isn’t as invincible as you always conceived him to be. He’s just a man who loves you dearly so.

“Okay, Caleb. Then no matter what happens, let’s always find our way back to each other.” You run your finger over his cheeks, trailing down until your palm finds his beating heart, thumping reassuringly against your skin. “Let’s be selfish together.”

The finality of your words, assured and strong, soothes the turmoil in his soul. Caleb brings your hand to his lips, lavishing a kiss on every delicate finger, each receiving a segment of his unending love for you.

“I’ll always find my way home to you.”

He’s certain now. He’s certain that gravity will always pull him back to you, if not, he’ll crawl through heaven and earth to hold your hand once more.

Happy birthday, Caleb. May gravity always bring you home <3

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

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birthday indulgences

the kiss we silently swore never to talk about again...

summary: years ago, on your birthday, you & caleb shared a forbidden moment. it isn't until his birthday that all those hidden desires are finally indulged in.

★pairing: caleb x fem!reader ★wc: 3.5k ★content: fluff & smut. drunk first kiss & grinding in the memory, caleb panics, a tiny bit of angst. sloppy makeouts, spit kink, dry humping, coming in pants, desperate & subby caleb, overstimulation. caleb calls reader pipsqueak, baby, honey and love. reader calls caleb baby. ★a/n: I love that theory that the kiss they don't talk about happened when they were younger, and then I thought ooo I could do a parallel with this. it was supposed to be sweet and it turned smutty, but it's still sweet. I'll probably do a more intimate version of their first time once his card is out! ★masterlist ★read on ao3

You couldn't believe you had actually gotten Caleb to go along with your plan.

When you'd told him you needed a break from your college campus, and that you wanted to go out and get drunk in Skyhaven for your birthday, he was already nodding along on the video call.

"Alright, pipsqueak," he agreed with a grin. "I'll tag along and take care of you. Gotta make sure you're staying hydrated."

"No, no, no." You shook your head, grinning wickedly when he cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "You're going with me."

He arches an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Uhh, earth to pipsqueak, did you not hear what I just said? I am going—"

"Nooo," you interrupt, wagging your finger. "You're going drinking with me."

He'd sputtered, complained and argued all he wanted, but he had agreed to every one of your terms by the time you hung up the call.

And here you were, tipsy and laying back on the floor of his Aerospace Academy assigned studio apartment, watching the ceiling fan spin while you both giggled over something you can't quite remember.

You glance over at where Caleb's sprawled out beside you, smiling at the happy, hazy look in his eyes that surely matches your own. It was impossible to see him ever completely loosen up, and this was the best birthday gift you could've asked for.

Then your thoughts immediately take a different direction when he licks his lips.

They're too dry. You know because you'd jokingly held him down as you swiped your own chapstick across them countless times.

And you'd caught him running his thumb over his cracked bottom lip, tongue darting out across the lingering taste of you when he thought you weren't looking.

Your whole face feels too hot suddenly, blood rushing so fast through your ears that you can't even hear the idle sounds of Skyhaven late at night that drift up through the cracked window.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss someone.

To have their lips press to yours, all tentative and sweet. To know that liking them wasn't in vain, that hoping they felt the same way wasn't just a daydream you'd kept hidden for years. To see the adoration in their eyes when they pull back and caress your cheek.

Purple eyes with an orange sheen.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss Caleb.

"Caleb," you whine, watching the dopey smile grow on his face at your voice. "Am I too old to have never been kissed?"

Caleb's eyes widen, flashing to yours.

"I—" he blinks rapidly, and you giggle at the rare occasion of having caught him completely off guard. "What?"

"Kiss-ing," you draw out, tapping your lips with each letter you spell out for him, "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Caleb watches each tap with rapt attention, so captivated that his own lips slowly part. A bit of drool collects at the corner of them, and your vision goes hazy before he quickly looks away.

"Oh." He sounds breathless, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "Uh, I dunno, pipsqueak. I mean, I'm older than you and I've never kissed anyone. Is that weird?"

He gives a little laugh, but you hear the stiff edge to it, can see the uncertainty haunting the façade of his easy expression.

"Really?" you roll over onto you stomach, propping your chin onto your palms.

Your legs kick behind you, and he glances at you and away again.

After a stretch of awkward silence, he turns onto his side, meeting your gaze.

"I mean, yeah," he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. "Why would I?"

You look down at his never-been-kissed lips, feeling your blood rush to your head when he bites them.

Your eyes dart back down, watching his necklace brush against the floor from the angle he lays at.

"Sooo…you've never wanted to kiss anybody?" you ask, trying to seem casual, even as your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt when he shifts closer.

"I didn't say that," Caleb mutters, and you go rigid.

"Oh."

You flop back onto your back, glaring up at the ceiling fan before he can notice how your brows have pinched, your mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Pips?" Caleb pokes at your cheek, and you pout, turning on your side away from him. "What's got you all frowny-faced?"

"Nothing," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Uh-huuuh."

He pokes at your back, then your side, until his fingers are lightly tickling at your ribs. You giggle, kicking your feet out at him.

"Caleb, stooop," you whine, pushing back at him as he tries to tug you back over to face him.

"C'mon, pips," he teases, pinching your waist, and you squeak. "Why won't you look at me?"

Flipping over to smack him, you accuse with totally justified, totally sober and coherent anger, "I'm mad at you, dummy!"

He blinks, and you try and not melt at how cute he looks like this—drunk and flushed, with those big confused puppy dog eyes.

"Why?"

Instead of answering him directly, you ask, "Was it the girl in your chemistry class?"

"The—" Caleb blinks again, shifting back in surprise. "What?"

"That you wanted to kiss sooo badly." You frown, crossing your arms again. "The one who copied off your homework, and you were too nice to stop her. Or was it the guy who always tried to beat your track record?"

"Pips—"

"Or the cheerleader captain? Or is it somebody at university, huh? Are you sneaking around making googly eyes at the other pilots?"

"Oh, quit it." Caleb rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead with an unamused huff. "I didn't want to kiss any of them. I don't want to."

"Then who?" You push yourself up, and he sits up to match your restless energy. He always rises to that familiar challenge in your eyes, pulling when you push. "Who exactly is just so damn special that you're still saving that kiss for them?"

Caleb's eyes flash, and he leans up and over you until his large frame is surrounding you completely.

"Maybe it's someone I like with a bratty mouth," he snaps, gently pinching your lips shut between calloused fingers.

Your wide eyes meet his blazing ones, and you both freeze.

His fingers loosen on your lips, and your lashes flutter.

He watches your eyes dilate, then looks down to where he gingerly brushes his fingers along the seam of your lips, his breath audibly hitching when they part for him.

Caleb's lids fall heavy over his darkening gaze. Your breath speeds up in your chest. He looks from your lips to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

And when you glance down at his own mouth, you're both crashing into each other.

Your first kiss with your childhood friend, your best friend, was anything but the magical one you had just been daydreaming about.

This was sloppy and needy, all tongue and spit and teeth. Years of emotion you didn't know how to unpack began to unravel at the seams, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you as you fall back onto the floor.

Neither of you knew what you were doing, only that you were desperate for more. His hands grab at your waist, slipping down to your thighs briefly, and snapping back up when he realized what he was touching.

Then his arms are wrapping around you, corded muscles tightening to hold you close to him as you squirm from all the years of pent up tension.

Your lips meet his again and again, needy sounds filling the air. His own spit dribbles down your chin as Caleb licks into your mouth and moans against your tongue.

Your foot trails up his leg, wrapping around his calf, and he mindlessly grabs at it, hoisting it up until it was wrapping securely around his hip. The fabric of your skirt rides up, and you jolt when you feel the growing bulge in his jeans rub against the thin fabric of your dampening panties.

The sensation is brief, then harder, until you're rolling against each other in a delirious haze of desperation.

He's mumbling something incoherent into your lips, teeth sinking into the soft flesh until you feel it start to break, and you moan his name.

Caleb jerks back, eyes wide and pupils swallowing all the purple except for the thinnest ring around the edge. His chest heaves, kiss-swollen lips forming soundless words.

Lips swollen from your kisses.

You whine, reaching for him as he begins to panic, de-tangling himself from you.

"No," you beg, trying to tug him back as he gently pulls your grabbing hands away. "No no no—"

"Pips, you're—" his voice is ragged, and he sucks in a deep breath.

His eyes are wild, darting around at everything but you, even as he tugs your skirt back down around your waist. His cheeks blaze red when he steals another quick look at the ruined panties underneath, the soaked fabric with a lacy band, before he turns away in shame.

"You're drunk," he breathes, shaking his head sharply.

"I'm not—"

"I'm drunk." Caleb laughs, disbelief coating the sound, long fingers running through his hair until it's sticking up in all directions. "Shit. Fuck. This wasn't—this wasn't supposed to happen—"

Your body begins to defensively curl inwards, and you blink quickly to try and keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.

Caleb finally dares a glance back at you, going from flushed to shockingly pale in seconds.

"No, no, pipsqueak—"

"No, it's fine," you sniff, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the floor. "I get it. You…you didn't want it to be me. I get it."

"No, no no no," he keeps mumbling the word the entire time you're moving away, and suddenly Caleb's on his hands and knees, crawling after you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes. "No, pips, that's not what I meant—"

"It's fine, Caleb."

"It's not fine," he insists, resting the side of his cheek against the top of your knees. His eyes are wide and wet, begging for you to just look at him. "You heard what I said. Who I said. Who I…wanted."

His voice gets impossibly quiet, and Caleb's honest gaze begs for your attention.

But you're too fixated by the dark indentation your teeth had left in his lips, the shine on them that could've been your saliva or his.

"It's just not a good idea, pips," he whispers, and you flinch, followed by his own grimace. "Shit, no, that sounded bad. It's just because—"

He stops, shaking his head, palm covering his face.

"I can't think straight," he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers. With a sigh, he drops his hand onto your knee, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. His voice is so gentle, so Caleb, but it still grates at your sensitive nerves right now. "I think we both just need to sleep this off. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You sniff, still not meeting his eyes completely.

"No, we wont," you mumble, even as you let yourself be gently directed towards his bed.

He's silent as he helps you prepare for sleep, even as he moves to sleep on his little couch, opting for his long legs to cramp up on the furniture instead of cuddling with you. The tension radiates off him at your accusation—because he knows you're right.

"We'll never talk about it again."

But here you are, years later, in the same situation as before.

You're both sober this time. You're older, maybe wiser, and scarred from being torn apart before coming back together.

But the way Caleb looks at you has never changed. Like you hung the stars in the sky, like you were the moon the sun chased with every morning.

He doesn't shy away when you look at him just the same. He doesn't pull back now, doesn't keep his longing locked away when your thumb brushes his lips, collecting the residue of the candy you'd fed him.

You wanted today to be a special birthday for him. You wanted to give him everything he'd ever wanted.

"Remember when you kissed me?" you breathe, and his eyes flash in surprise at what you'd silently sworn to never speak of again, beautiful lashes fluttering at your exhale across his lips. "On my birthday?"

He laughs, a little quiet huff of air, and his shock melts to something knowing. Something you'd both always known, deep down.

"You kissed me," he accuses, all low and sultry in his teasing, and you shiver.

You smile, your thumb caressing the corner of his lips.

It didn't matter who had kissed who anymore, who pulled back from who. You'd still ended up where you both belonged.

Caleb gazes up at you, awestruck when your eyes darken.

"Then you knew I wanted it," you whisper, nose bumping against his. "So why did you stop?"

You lean in slowly, giving him a moment to pull away if he still wanted to, if he still needed time. He'd given you all the time in the world, after all. You'd happily wait for him, too.

But then Caleb's lips are on yours, and everything finally feels right.

He tastes like sour lemon candy, and you whine, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He moans, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck me," he groans under his breath, and you laugh between the kisses that heat up between you.

"If you insist," you murmur, smirking into his mouth when his hips jerk up into yours.

The whimper that leaves his lips is quiet and needy, and you eagerly swallow it down.

"Don't tease me like that, baby," Caleb rasps, and your own hips roll in his lap at that low huskiness to his voice.

His hands tighten on your hips, stilling you. You pause, wondering if you'd taken it too far.

But then he's directing you, pulling your legs around to straddle him completely. He guides you into a deeper roll, and you both moan.

You sink down onto him with slow grinds, the hem of your dress hiding just how quickly your panties were getting wet. In the rosy haze of growing pleasure, you wonder how long it'll take to soak that erection he's been sporting since you walked in the room.

"Didn't even try and hide how hard you were when I came in," you whisper into your languid, sensual kissing. "Did you?"

Caleb's hand slips down, cupping your ass easily in his rough palm and long fingers. You moan when he squeezes it, followed by a squeak of surprise at his gentle, experimental smack to it.

"You can't talk like that, pips," he pants, head tilting back against the couch. His voice is that delicious shade of darkness when he adds, "God, you can't make those sounds either. I won't last long if you do."

His eyes are hazy as he watches you lean down, kissing along the elegant slope of his neck. You stop at the harsh bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps, and your teeth graze along it, humming at the moan you feel vibrate there.

"I've thought about that kiss for years," Caleb gasps, hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed to him. His hips lazily roll up into yours, his eyes rolling back into his head when he suddenly bucks up once. "Every time I—"

He cuts himself off, biting at his already swollen lips with a blush.

You smile, devious in your intent, and his mouth falls open when your hidden possessive streak unfolds.

"Every time you—" you leave your question hanging, letting the way you begin to bounce in his lap be the answer.

"You—" Caleb chokes, gripping your hips.

His eyes glue to the motion of your hips flexing under your dress, ass coming up and smacking back down against the strength of his large thighs. You feel him twitch through his jeans, and you moan along with him.

"F-fuck," he groans, mouth hanging open, the tip of his tongue falling out.

You lean forward, collecting the saliva in your mouth. Realizing what you're doing, Caleb tilts his head up and sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and dilated.

You let your spit pool onto his tongue, and he takes it eagerly, swallowing it down with a whine and a thrust of his hips.

"I've thought about it, too," you breathe, and his lidded eyes flicker between your face and where you're shamelessly humping him. "Every single time. Even when I'm not trying to. But when I'm touching myself—"

"Oh fuck—"

"And I'm trying to come, all I can think about is how warm you were and your spit in my mouth—"

"B-baby," Caleb stutters, his head lolling to the side, unfocused eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head with each dry slap and grind of your hips against his. "Please, please—"

"I always think of kissing you when I'm coming—"

"Coming," Caleb gasps, and you think he's just mindlessly repeating you until you notice how rigid he's gotten, completely still and flushed bright red as he moans, "oh, fuck, I'm coming—"

And you can feel it, the sticky warmth flooding into the front of his jeans, seeping into you as you gasp. You grind down against his throbbing cock underneath the stifling fabric, wishing you were taking every drop of his cum instead, not letting a bit of it go to waste.

Caleb whines, crying out softly as you roll your hips, and you swallow every pretty sound with hot kisses until your clothed clit catches on his ruined jeans just right.

"Oh fuck, there—" you gasp, lips messily attached to his. You feel the tears of pleasure and overstimulation streaming down his face as he bucks up into you still. "Caleb, Caleb—"

"Come," he begs, and your eyes meet his. Your hips falter at the unadulterated affection there before you speed up, breath hitching when you feel yourself being to crest over into mind-numbing pleasure. "Come for me, honey, please come for me love please—"

Your eyes pinch shut, and you cry out for him when the orgasm hits you all at once, all your limbs seizing up as you convulse in his lap.

"Oh fuck there, there it is," Caleb grunts, grabbing at your trembling thighs under your dress, moaning when he feels your slick that had dripped down them. "You're coming, you're actually coming—"

Your pussy flutters and tightens in your soaked panties, and you moan, wondering what it would have felt like if you had had the foresight to tug his cock out of his pants, if your precious Caleb had filled you up before you came around him.

Next time, you think in a haze, giggling breathlessly when you realize there was an endless number of next times now.

Caleb's lips meet yours, and you meet each kiss as they slow into something lazy and content. He keeps leaning closer and closer to you, his hand cupping the back of your head, protecting you when you both end up weakly tumbling to the ground, and you laugh.

Your eyes are warm and shining with joy when you look up at him, pulling him down for another kiss, and another, because they were all yours now. Every kiss, every moment.

It was the same messy meeting of tongue and spit and teeth from that unspoken moment years ago, except this time, he wouldn't pull away.

"When do we get to do that again?" you gasp, and he laughs too, bright and happy and maybe, finally at some semblance of peace.

"Whenever you want it," Caleb hums, pulling back to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheekbone, your eyelashes, all the way up to your temple and back down to your lips again.

"Well," you start, grinning as your loop your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you in befuddled admiration, like he couldn't believe you were really here. "You're the birthday boy."

There's a subtle shift in his eyes, suddenly shining with vulnerability when he asks, "But you want it?"

"Oh," you whisper, brushing at the leftover tears that cling to his long lashes. You kiss them when his eyes shut, your nose nuzzling against his.

Dummy, you think fondly. Worried you didn't want any more when you just had the best orgasm of your life, just from dry humping his lap.

When you'd been dreaming of doing this for years. When you would've been happy if all he wanted was just a kiss.

But his post-nut shyness was sweet, even if coupled with that deep-rooted fear that when he closed his eyes, you'd disappear. And your heart was too full of love not to reassure him.

So you banished the shadows that haunted the corners of his mind with another gentle kiss, pressing all your love for him into it.

"Of course I want it, Caleb," you murmur, smiling up at him. "You're all I've ever wanted."

He sighs, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This one is unhurried, an intimate promise between you.

"Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, and he smiles.

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

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“…quit starin’ at my chest.”

You blink, dilated pupils snapping back to normal as you pull your gaze away. “I wasn’t staring.” You counter it so effortlessly that Caleb nearly believed you for a second.

“Yeah? And I don’t know how to fly a plane.” A gentle scoff as he crossed his arms over his sizable chest. “You were practically drooling, had I let you stare any longer you’d have a wet mark on your own chest.”

“Fine, fine. I was staring. But how can I not after the little bot said your chest grew a whole 0.613 cm? You’ve been putting in a lot of effort, huh?” You’re poking now, closer to his collarbone since his arms are protectively crossed.

Caleb’s ears turn of a shade of red then, mildly embarrassed that you recalled what the AI assistant had so carelessly disclosed. He had been working out, and his main source of motivation being to impress you.

Well, he certainly had.

“Maybe I have been, maybe I haven’t. Maybe I just work out enough that it happened that way…” his throat bobs as he swallows, that redness on his ears now shading the skin just below his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you can ogle.”

A tease, one you both saw right through. Because it was Caleb, when the hell would he ever tell you no?

“You ogle at my breasts all the time!” A defiant retort, a smug smirk on your wicked lips and the flush of his cheeks were turning to a full blown blush. “I-I do not!”

But oh he did, he absolutely did.

“Now we’re just lying to each other.” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, laughing as you stared him down. “We can admire each other’s chest and be honest about it, can’t we?” But Caleb.exe was fully malfunctioning — as if it was news to him that you knew he fully checked you out multiple times a day.

“C’mon, don’t shy away now.” You step a little closer, grinning at him like you’ve caught your prey. “We can be honest about our feelings now that we’re adults.” Oh you were trying to send him into cardiac arrest.

“You look good, Caleb. But you don’t have to bulk up just to impress me. I’ve liked the way you looked since we were kids. All scraggly with missing teeth and bandages plastered to your knees. Your cute little farmers tans when you refused sunscreen but loved those tank tops.”

He’s going to pass out from holding his breath, you can feel the tension but you continue. “I’ve liked the way you looked throughout our childhood, those brief pre-teen awkward phases, the whole popular boy jock thing you had going on in high school, pilot Caleb, Colonel Caleb.”

Your breath is warm, there’s barely any space between your bodies as you whisper ever so quietly, so sweetly…

“You’re my Caleb at the end of the day, I’ve loved every version of you. And I’ll love every version to come.”

Oh yeah, you were out for blood.

Rumor has it, Caleb.exe is still holding his breath because of this… let me nurse from those tiddies big boy c’mere

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

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LADS: Sent them LEWDS in public

Summary: The LADS have left you feeling neglected, so you decide to teach them a lesson. What happens when you send them lewds while they're in public? MDNI! (Suggestive, not explicit.) This was a silly piece, and my first "all LADs" fic!

It had been three entire days since your usually-charming upstairs neighbor decided to treat you like you’d committed some unforgivable crime.

And for what?

A tiny, perfectly reasonable suggestion.

All you’d done was gently imply—alright, maybe not that gently—that it might be insanely hot if Xavier wore the Lumierre mask while you did things to him that were definitely, unequivocally illegal in at least six countries.

Instead of pouncing on you right then and there, like a sane person, he'd looked at you with such profound horror you'd genuinely thought for a moment you’d accidentally confessed to murder. Without saying a word, he’d turned on his heel, and left. He actually just left you standing there, mouth open, dignity bruised, libido unsatisfied.

And now it had been three full days of absolute silence.

Three days of radio static—no texts, no teasing smiles across patrol, nothing. He'd even swapped shifts just to dodge seeing you, the dramatic bastard. Last night, you'd even tried peace offerings in the form of his favorite takeout, and he’d ignored that too!

Enough was enough.

Jealous of his own alter ego? That was the most ridiculous thing you'd ever heard. But fine. If Xavier wanted to act like a sulky teenager, you'd make sure to treat him like one.

War was officially declared.

You found him at headquarters, slumped in a chair after your patrol with Tara, looking every bit as miserable as he deserved to be. He was nibbling half-heartedly on a powdered-sugar donut, his posture screaming “pathetic” in a way that almost made you soften—almost.

His eyes flicked upward, briefly met yours, and then darted away guiltily, the tips of his ears turning pink beneath his silver hair. Oh, he was absolutely not ready for the diabolical storm about to descend upon him.

"Hey there, stranger," you purred sweetly, flashing him your most innocent smile. "Thinking hot pot tonight? You in?"

Xavier stared at you like you’d grown a second head, his eyes wide and dark as he slowly drew the powdered sugar-coated tip of his thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean. For one charged, heart-stopping second, you thought he might break—then he yanked his gaze away, finger removed from his lips.

“There’s a... briefing,” he mumbled lamely, shuffling awkwardly toward the conference room door.

Your stomach dropped. Oh, he was really doubling down, wasn’t he?

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it, you’d come prepared. You had nuclear-level ammo today, and Xavier didn’t stand a chance.

Game on, Bunny Boy.

You followed him into the conference room, watching with disbelief as he strategically wedged himself between two occupied seats. Seriously?

With a dramatic sigh, you slid into the empty chair directly opposite him. If he thought refusing to look at you would save him, he was tragically mistaken.

The other hunters filed in, and Jenna began her usual monotone spiel about mission updates and statistics. You tuned her out instantly, your entire focus zeroed in on Xavier, whose azure eyes remained stubbornly glued to Jenna, as though looking anywhere else—especially at you—would ignite him on literal fire.

You knew him far too well for that. You knew exactly how difficult it was for him not to glance your way; you could practically feel him sweating from across the room.

Still, not even a single glance?

Well, he’d asked for it.

Carefully lowering your phone beneath the table, shielding the screen from wandering eyes, you scrolled through your collection of explicit selfies from last night. You’d planned these as playful rewards for when he finally apologized, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

And oh, the pièce de résistance.

There you were, wearing Lumiere's iconic costume, the shirt wide open to expose your bare breasts, nipples stiff and tempting. Your hand disappeared suggestively down the pants, fingertips teasingly hidden but clearly busy, eyes glassy with desire, lips parted as if mid-moan. It was raw. It was filthy. It was fucking perfect.

Smirking, you quickly typed your killing blow:

You: If you won’t be Lumiere, then I guess I’ll have to be.

Send.

Exactly five seconds passed between the delivery of your message and the moment Xavier's soul visibly departed from his body.

Across the conference room, Xavier shifted casually in his chair, pulled out his phone like it was nothing—and froze.

For a full second, you swore he stopped breathing altogether.

Then, as though hit by a delayed gunshot, he jolted violently enough that his knee smacked hard against the underside of the conference table.

THUD.

Coffee cups rattled dangerously. A rookie hunter squeaked embarrassingly. Jenna stopped mid-sentence, arching an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Xavier? Everything alright?”

Xavier opened his mouth, managed no sound, then tried again. “Fine,” he croaked weakly, voice cracking like he was thirteen again. “Just—leg cramp. Muscle...spasm. Sudden. Carry on.”

Jenna stared at him, the kind of look that clearly said she wasn't paid enough for whatever this was, before continuing her report without further comment.

But Xavier was fucked, and he knew it. Under the table, his hand fumbled desperately—obviously attempting, and spectacularly failing, to discreetly adjust his hardening cock. His breathing turned shallow, ragged, as though he’d just sliced through a thousand wanderers.

For several minutes you almost broke skin from biting your knuckle so hard, trying not to laugh. You expected to get some sort of reaction, but when it came to Xavier--you didn't expect THAT.

At last, he risked a glance in your direction.

The look he shot you was homicidal—wild, desperate, furious lust etched into every tense line of his body.

You offered him your most innocent smile.

Slowly, deliberately, you tilted your head just slightly.

Bit your lower lip.

Then, clearly and slowly enough for him to read your lips across the room, you mouthed:

“Call me Lumiere.”

Xavier’s palm slammed down on the table with a loud crack, making the rookie beside him choke on her coffee and Jenna stop mid-sentence again.

He stood abruptly—violently—his chair sliding backwards and hitting the wall behind him. “I—uh—emergency!” he stammered, voice strained with panic. “Personal emergency!”

Without another word, he practically sprinted out of the conference room, leaving confused whispers in his wake.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed violently in your hand.

Xavier: Elevator. Now. If you can still walk when I’m done with you, consider it a miracle.

A wicked grin slowly spread across your lips.

He was going to lose his mind when you showed up in the elevator already wearing his mask.

And you absolutely couldn’t wait.

You: Hey handsome. Come home and ruin my life a little? ❤️ Zayne: Saving actual lives, sweetheart. You’ll survive. Probably. You: Survival’s not guaranteed if you keep ignoring me. 😔 Zayne: Drink water. Do stretches. Think loving thoughts. You: My “loving thoughts” involve you naked and tied to a chair, FYI. Zayne: Medical emergency. Gotta go. Stop being trouble. You: No. 😇

You glared at your phone, dramatically collapsing face-first onto the couch with a frustrated groan. The cushions absorbed your grumbled curses, muffling your irritation. How many more nights had to be like this?

Fine. If Doctor Li was determined to pretend you didn't exist, you'd simply make yourself impossible to ignore.

You'd show him exactly what happened when he neglected his duties.

With determination and a mischievous gleam in your eye, you slipped into Akso Hospital, wearing your most convincing “definitely not about to do something reckless” expression. A few polite smiles later, you found yourself safely behind the door of Zayne’s private office.

Perfect.

The white coat hung invitingly from the hook on the wall, proudly embroidered with his name. With a small, affectionate smile, you ran your fingertips lovingly over the stitching. He’d earned every letter there—but he was going to have to earn you now.

You slipped out of your clothes, discarding them neatly on a nearby chair, and draped yourself in the crisp, cool white fabric. Buttoning exactly one button beneath your bust to tease rather than conceal, you placed his stethoscope around your neck, letting the cold metal rest suggestively between your bare breasts.

Then, perched casually against his desk, you carefully spread your thighs—just indecent enough—and snapped a photo.

You: I need a consultation, Doctor. I’m experiencing severe symptoms of neglect. 🖤

Send.

Meanwhile, Upstairs in the Boardroom

Zayne was enduring yet another agonizingly dull briefing on surgical budgeting, politely nodding at appropriate intervals and maintaining just enough eye contact to appear interested.

His phone buzzed softly. A quick glance to silence it, and—

He froze.

The image filled his screen with obscene clarity: You, half-naked beneath his white coat, lounging seductively on his desk. His heartbeat surged violently, blood roaring in his ears.

"—increase the budget allocation for anesthesiology—"

Zayne heard nothing.

His mind was busy unraveling.

"Dr. Li?" the hospital director asked, peering at him over her glasses. "You seem… distracted."

He stood abruptly, chair wobbling dangerously behind him. "Emergency page," he announced, voice crisp and convincing.

He didn’t even bother looking at his pager.

Without another word, he strode out, urgency radiating from him as he practically sprinted toward his office.

He burst through the door—and stopped short.

There you were, a living fantasy: draped across his workspace like an erotic muse, fingers leisurely twirling his stethoscope. You looked outrageously smug and impossibly beautiful.

"Doctor," you purred sweetly, batting your lashes with a smirk, "I've been incredibly patient, but I'm afraid my condition is deteriorating."

Zayne exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in mock-suffering. "You," he murmured with exaggerated weariness, eyes shining with reluctant amusement, "are an absolute nightmare."

He crossed the room in three confident strides, trapping you firmly between his arms as he braced himself on either side of your hips. The warmth of his body pressed intimately close, sending sparks rippling across your skin.

"But," he continued softly, voice dipping lower, "you're my nightmare."

Your grin widened, eyes sparkling triumphantly.

He brushed his nose gently against yours, mouth hovering dangerously close. "Now," he breathed, warm and teasing against your lips, "are you ready for a proper examination?"

His hands slid up your shoulders, skillful fingers hooking into the edges of the white coat. With a single swift movement, he stripped it from you, letting it pool loosely at your elbows. You gasped softly at the sudden exposure, your bare skin instantly heated under his heavy, possessive gaze.

He tugged the stethoscope gently but firmly, tightening it just enough to elicit another soft gasp from you. His lips curled wickedly.

"Because, sweetheart," he whispered hungrily, "I’m afraid I’ll need to be… extremely thorough."

Just as his mouth brushed against yours, the door swung open sharply.

"Dr. Li, I just wanted to—"

Yvonne froze mid-step. Her eyes widened comically, mouth falling open in pure shock.

You froze.

Zayne froze.

The three of you stood locked in a perfect tableau: you, nearly naked on his desk; Zayne gripping the stethoscope like a leash; and poor Yvonne wishing desperately she could melt into the carpet.

The awkward silence stretched unbearably—until you broke it with a cheerful, mortifyingly casual, "Hey, Yvonne."

Yvonne sputtered, her cheeks blazing scarlet. "I—uh—meeting—I’ll—clear your schedule, Doctor Li—sorry—!" She whirled around and fled, the door slamming so hard a framed diploma nearly toppled off the wall.

Quiet filled the room once more.

Slowly, you turned your gaze back to Zayne, prepared for irritation or embarrassment in his expression. Instead, what you saw in his eyes made your stomach clench and your knees weaken.

He looked feral.

His eyes were dark with barely controlled hunger, the curve of his mouth twisted into a dangerous smirk. A low, rich chuckle escaped him—broken and beautiful—and then he captured your lips in a fierce kiss that left you absolutely breathless.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged.

"You," he rasped, voice low and trembling with the effort of restraint, "have absolutely no idea what you just unleashed."

His fingers tangled into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face upward, exposing your throat. A startled, eager whimper escaped you as he guided you firmly down onto your knees, the cool metal of the stethoscope tightening once more around your neck, holding you in place, keeping you under his control.

"Now," Zayne murmured roughly, gently tracing your jawline with his thumb, eyes blazing with a promise that sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, "about your consultation…"

He stroked your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, his eyes heavy and intensely focused on your form beneath him.

"Open wide, sweetheart," he whispered darkly. "Doctor’s orders."

He hadn't even noticed you were there.

Or if he had, he certainly wasn't showing it.

Rafayel moved through the exhibit like a reluctant storm—sharp smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes, quick jokes tossed over his shoulder, and half-hearted acknowledgments to anyone who cornered him. He was the living embodiment of forced politeness, an artist enduring the social equivalent of nails scraping down a chalkboard.

And god, he hated every second of it.

You knew it just by watching him: the tight set of his jaw, the slight twitch at the corner of his eye every time some fawning critic called him "brilliant" or "a visionary." The fake laughter he forced out sounded so pained that you cringed inwardly each time you heard it.

He wasn't here by choice. He was here because Thomas begged him to be. Sweet, desperate Thomas—his manager, friend, and occasional babysitter—had guilted him into playing nice. Apparently, being cursed with raw talent also came with mandatory public suffering.

But still, you had shown up tonight for him.

You'd dressed up, hopeful and ready to support him, a little nervous, and just a touch eager to catch his attention. He'd been busy with this exhibit for weeks, leaving you missing him terribly. A few texts back and forth proved he'd been working himself thin, so your attendance hopefully meant a lot to him. You imagined his face lighting up, maybe an overly dramatic embrace to embarrass you in public, something to make this exhausting night worth it.

But nothing like that happened.

Instead, you lingered awkwardly at the edges, becoming increasingly invisible with each passing minute. Every time you tried to approach him, some insufferable curator or overly-enthusiastic fan intercepted. A handshake here, a selfie there, a monologue about color theory that visibly drained Rafayel’s soul just listening to it.

Your heart sank lower with every failed attempt to reach him.

It felt ridiculous—standing alone, unnoticed, in a crowd full of people fawning over him. The ache settled deep in your chest, frustration twisting alongside a quiet, embarrassed loneliness. You knew he adored you in his own chaotic way, but in this moment, you felt utterly forgotten.

Before your pride could stop you, your hand slipped into your clutch, pulling out your phone. Your thumb hesitated, hovering over the screen.

You'd taken the photo a few days earlier. You’d laughed nervously, painting your body with cheap market paints, giggling as vibrant colors ran together, messy but charming in their chaos. Beautiful hues smeared across your naked skin. A self portrait with loving marks made only for him. You'd planned it as a playful reward for him, a private gift to congratulate him on surviving this night. Something so vulnerable and silly, you just knew he'd affectionately tease you about it...

But right now, it felt more like an act of desperation—maybe even your last chance to salvage your hurt feelings.

You attached the picture, pausing only a second to consider your message before typing something hopeful and just slightly teasing:

You: If only I’d had an artist’s touch when I made this… 🎨

Send.

There. It was done. Now, you could let him have his night. Your stomach twisted anxiously as you turned toward the exit. You wouldn't wait around feeling sorry for yourself any longer. And you absolutely were not going to cry.

Definitely not.

You were halfway to the door when you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering against marble flooring.

You whipped around just in time to see Rafayel frozen stiffly, staring down at his fallen champagne flute, the shattered glass glittering beneath his shoes like fragments of a broken sculpture. His phone still glowed in his hand, the faint light of your photo illuminating his wide-eyed, stunned expression.

For a moment, the gallery seemed suspended in time. Even Thomas stopped mid-sentence, mouth half-open, staring at Rafayel with alarm.

Then Rafayel slowly lifted his gaze, eyes dark with delicious chaotic delight.

He clapped his hands sharply, making several attendees jump. "Alright, show's over, everyone!" he declared with startling cheerfulness.

Music screeched to a stop. Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Thomas sputtered helplessly, pushing forward in a panic. "Raf, what are you doing? Are you out of your—?"

"Emergency inspiration, Thomas," Rafayel interrupted smoothly, flashing a grin that promised chaos. "Artist emergency. Clear out these art vultures before I start tossing them myself."

He began herding the stunned crowd toward the doors like an overly enthusiastic sheep dog, casually waving away protests, ignoring horrified gasps, and outright laughing at anyone who demanded explanations.

In a matter of minutes, the gallery emptied completely, leaving you alone and slightly bewildered in the silent aftermath.

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Rafayel stormed across the gallery--intense eyes locked on yours, grabbing your wrist with gentle but firm insistence and pulling you toward one of the large, blank canvases still hanging on the far wall.

"Raf—" you began, but he pressed you lightly against the canvas, caging you in with his body. His breath was ragged, eyes intense and impossibly full as they traced your features with more affection than he'd ever shown you before.

"You," he whispered fiercely, voice low and roughened with barely contained emotion, "are the only masterpiece I've ever given a damn about."

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasingly lifting the fabric inch by torturous inch. "And clearly," he continued, mouth twitching with a teasing laugh, "you're in desperate need of a professional’s touch.”

It had been a week.

Seven miserable days of cryptic texts, all maddeningly brief and patronizing:

Sylus: Stay in tonight. Sylus: Miss you, kitten. Sylus: Be good.

No calls. No visits. Not even one infuriatingly charming late-night voicemail. Instead, your only visitor was Mephisto—the world’s most judgmental mechanical crow—who showed up at ungodly hours, tapping insistently at your window like he had something important to say but was choosing not to out of spite.

You hated this.

You missed Sylus with an intensity that bordered on psychosis. You simultaneously wanted to punch him in the mouth for ignoring your messages and pull him close and kiss him senseless for texting back. He was stubborn, distant, and maddeningly secretive—qualities that normally drew you to him, but right now were driving you toward sweet, reckless revenge.

When Mephisto landed again, this time eyeing you from the balcony railing like a gothic hall monitor, you decided enough was enough.

Sylus had left you unsupervised for far too long—and it was time he faced the delicious consequences.

You picked up the sleek black helmet he’d given you weeks ago. Custom-designed, glossy, stylish, perfectly fitted—an extravagant gift he'd tried (and failed) to dismiss as "just something practical." You’d teased him mercilessly about it, delighting in how he blushed faintly at your enthusiastic reaction.

Tonight, the helmet would serve another purpose entirely.

Pulling it on, you stripped off everything else, relishing the cool air and the way goosebumps prickled your bare skin. You sprawled across the bed, posed shamelessly, legs parted just enough to tease, fingers strategically hiding the most explicit details—but only just. The helmet gleamed wickedly, a striking contrast to your exposed body.

You snapped the photo.

With a satisfied smirk, you sent it off to Sylus, accompanied by the provocative caption:

You: Your kitten needs to play. 🐾

Send.

Deep within the heart of N109’s black market, Sylus stood at the head of a long metal table, staring coolly down a collection of men who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a wanted poster. Between them sat a precarious amount of glowing modified Protocores and weaponry—dangerous, volatile, and profoundly expensive.

Negotiations were quiet. Civilized, even, in that uniquely criminal way where civility masked a very real promise of bloodshed.

Sylus’s phone buzzed softly against the metal table. He ignored it, expression unreadable, shoulders loose, hands relaxed as though he had all the time in the world.

It buzzed again. Insistent. Demanding attention.

With a subtle sigh, he flicked open the screen, casually glancing down to silence whoever dared interrupt—

And his world halted.

Your photo filled the display, bold and stunning enough to seize every thought in his head. You sprawled like an absolute vision, sleek helmet shining, bare skin lush and inviting, fingers barely covering the part of you he now desperately wished they weren’t hiding. His breath stopped in his chest as he licked his lips.

The room felt suddenly suffocating.

His energy surged, raw and unchecked, in a way it hadn't in years—and certainly never over something as trivial as a photograph.

The modified protocores, hyper-sensitive to his Evol fluctuations, immediately picked up on the spike.

Then—

BOOM.

An entire weapons crate erupted, shards of protocores and sparks exploding outward in a brilliant shower of chaos. The table overturned. Gangsters screamed and dove for cover. The lights flickered violently, plunging the room into smoke-filled confusion. Someone yelled about assassins, another fired a panicked shot into the ceiling, and Luke and Kieran hit the floor with twin yelps.

"Holy shit, did boss do that on purpose?!" Luke shrieked from behind a smoldering crate.

Kieran coughed and laughed simultaneously, cackling, "Nah, you didn't see that look? He only looks like that when she's involved!"

Amid the destruction, Sylus stood unmoving, ruby eyes still transfixed on the intimate image before him. Smoke curled gently from the scorched edge of his coat, a faint dusting of ash settling into his white hair. His expression remained as calm and impenetrable as a marble statue.

One gangster staggered up to him, pale and trembling, clutching a bloody hand. "What the fuck was that, Sylus? Are you double-crossing us? Was this a hit—?"

Sylus didn't bother replying. He simply tucked the phone smoothly into his pocket, brushed off his sleeve, and fixed the shaking man with a flat stare.

"Emergency recall," he said calmly.

While alarms screamed and half the warehouse burned around him, Sylus turned to Luke and Kieran and said:

"Handle it."

Without looking back at the smoking ruins behind him, Sylus walked away, leaving a roomful of criminals sputtering in disbelief.

At home, you’d fallen asleep waiting for a reply, curled up and still helmet-clad, when the apartment door slammed open so violently you bolted upright, startled and blinking.

Sylus stood in the doorway, looking like he’d just survived an apocalypse—jacket scorched, boots dusty, eyes blazing and utterly unhinged. He kicked the door shut without a backward glance, filling the room with his overpowering presence.

"You probably got someone killed tonight, Kitten," he drawled, voice deceptively mild.

You snorted softly, waving him off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Oh, sure. I'm deadly, alright."

His expression didn't change, though his eyes darkened with intensity that sent a sudden thrill down your spine. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, a predator approaching prey that hadn't yet realized it was caught.

"I’m serious," he said softly, voice low and edged with dangerous amusement. "Two crates of weapons and Protocores exploded, half the black market nearly burned down, and I'm fairly certain at least one idiot accidentally shot himself in the foot."

You blinked, momentarily uncertain—then burst into bright laughter, your amusement echoing brightly through the darkness of the room. "Oh please," you said, still giggling. "Sylus, that's ridiculous."

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he reached for your helmet, carefully slipping it off and tossing it aside like an unnecessary barrier between you. His hands braced firmly on either side of you, trapping you effortlessly beneath him.

His Evol energy crackled lightly against your skin, prickling warmth everywhere he hovered close, setting your nerves alight.

"You have absolutely no idea," Sylus murmured, nuzzling softly against your temple, his voice dark and gentle as velvet against your ear, "the sheer havoc you wreak inside me."

Your breath hitched, laughter melting into something softer, warmer, undeniably affectionate.

"You came," you finally whisper into his ear. "You could have just texted me back," you teased gently, eyes dancing in the low light.

Sylus’s mouth curved into a faint, devastating smile, his gaze full of quiet adoration—and a promise of retribution. "And miss the chance to watch you try and kill me in real-time? Never."

His lips brushed yours, soft at first, then hungry—like he'd waited years instead of days. He kissed you slowly, deeply, utterly reverent, as though he’d willingly burn the entire world down just to ensure nothing stood between him and you again.

Caleb Xia was known across the fleet as a legendary figure of unbreakable discipline. Colonel Xia could hold his composure through anything—through battles, interrogations, and even prolonged stints in the punishing DeepSpace Tunnel. But tonight, back from yet another exhausting mission and desperate to dismiss his troops and finally collapse in private, Caleb was learning a painful truth:

He had absolutely zero defense against you.

It began innocently enough. Caleb stood stiffly at the fleet’s bustling command center, issuing routine post-mission orders. Soldiers marched up to him in a seemingly endless procession, saluting crisply as they reported their debriefing details. Caleb dutifully nodded, signed off on various datapads, and maintained perfect, ironclad control.

And then his phone buzzed softly in his pocket.

He slipped it out discreetly, expecting another boring update—only to find your name illuminated brightly, demanding his attention.

You: Calebbbbb. Answer meeeee. 🥺

Caleb's lip twitched. He could imagine your tipsy, adorable whine through the text. But professionalism required restraint, so he quickly typed a brisk reply:

Caleb: Working, Pip. Almost done.

But you clearly weren't feeling patient tonight.

Another buzz. Caleb checked his screen discreetly, eyes narrowing as his breath hitched involuntarily at your messages:

You: Working means ignoring me? Rude. I thought you missed me. 😭 You: You're mean, Caleb You: Ever since you joined your big bad secret club, you're no fun. 😔🍷

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, half-smiling despite himself. He could practically picture you sprawled on the couch, wine glass dangerously close to tipping onto the floor, cheeks flushed, lips pouting.

God, he missed you.

His jaw tightened slightly, heart thudding a little harder than it should. Caleb opened his mouth to bark a quick dismissal to the approaching officer—but he had no time. The soldier saluted sharply and began a lengthy status report, forcing Caleb to slide his phone back into his pocket with a silent curse.

The buzzing persisted—insistently, cruelly—in his pocket.

Finally, mercifully, he dismissed the soldier, and checked his phone again.

You'd sent a picture.

He quirked a brow and glanced around carefully, subtly angling the screen away from view as he opened the attachment. He regretted it immediately, a strangled noise nearly escaping his throat.

There you were, sprawled out lazily on your bed, cheeks flushed from alcohol and mischief. Wearing that damned red sports bra and matching boyshorts he’d glimpsed on you just once before a few weeks ago, entirely by accident—an image that had haunted his nights since. He'd felt guilty for seeing you in such a vulnerable state, even if it was an accident.

But this? You'd posed deliberately, your bare thighs slightly parted, your body arched invitingly on soft sheets.

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as heat surged in his veins. This was not happening. Not now, not here—when he had a dozen soldiers still waiting for dismissal orders.

Another officer marched toward him, interrupting Caleb’s internal panic. Caleb forced his expression into its usual neutral mask, hoping his flushed neck and pounding pulse weren't too obvious. The officer saluted, rattling off data—Caleb heard nothing, his mind racing, pulse hammering between his ears.

He nodded robotically, scribbled a barely legible signature on the datapad, and sent the soldier away with more force than necessary.

His phone vibrated again. A new text.

You: You’re ignoring me again. Baaad colonel. Do I need to try harder?

His heart skipped a dangerous beat, fingers shaking slightly as he tapped back urgently:

Caleb: Pipsqueak. You shouldn't have shown me that--you've been drinking. Caleb: I'm almost done here. Just...Not. Now.

Your reply was immediate:

You: Oopsies. Already took the pic. Too late. 💋

Caleb’s stomach flipped violently. Another soldier approached, and Caleb cleared his throat sharply, bracing himself against the inevitable.

“Colonel Xia, the mission logs—”

“Yes. Fine. Proceed,” Caleb managed, hoping he sounded commanding rather than breathless.

While the soldier droned on, Caleb made the catastrophic decision to open your new photo.

Fuuuuuck. It was…far worse. You’d removed the sportswear entirely, leaving nothing but smooth, bare skin in its place. You lay on your side, a soft, fluffy blanket strategically draped over your hips, teasing him with the faintest promise of what was hidden beneath. The graceful curve of your breasts was perfectly visible, your skin illuminated by warm, inviting lamplight. Your eyes were playful, your lips curved in an achingly inviting smile, as though daring him to come home immediately and do something about it.

Caleb's brain short-circuited entirely.

For several frantic heartbeats, he forgot how breathing worked.

You couldn't possibly have—

He closed his eyes, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the image was already seared into his memory. Caleb felt utterly gutted—by longing, by frustration, by the fierce and consuming need he’d kept buried for far too long.

Caleb’s mind went completely blank. Every muscle in his body tensed, blood rushing downward at a dizzying speed. He realized, too late, that his breath had hitched audibly.

“Sir?” The soldier was staring at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Caleb coughed roughly into his fist, fighting desperately to regain control.

“Sorry—repeat your last point,” he growled hoarsely, blinking hard. The soldier cautiously continued, clearly worried about Caleb’s strange, flushed appearance.

Caleb’s phone buzzed yet again, ruthlessly relentless:

You: Bet you wish you were home now, huh, Caleb. 😘

The soldier finally departed, giving him one last curious glance. Caleb quickly turned away, leaning over a console to hide his increasingly obvious predicament. If he didn't have his long officer's coat, he'd be laughing stock of the fleet.

He texted frantically:

Caleb: Careful, Pip. When I get home you're going to pay for that.

But your reply destroyed any last shred of his composure:

You: Promise? You: Btw... My glass of wine wore off a while ago. 🙃

Caleb closed his eyes, gripping the console so tightly his knuckles whitened. His uniform felt unbearably tight, his breathing shallow and uneven. But it wasn't just the sheer boldness or sensuality of your pictures that had wrecked him—it was the raw vulnerability behind your playful bravado.

You'd actually meant it.

After all this time, after carefully dancing around each other, you'd finally risked everything and showed him exactly how much you wanted him. No more teasing. No more pretending. Just your honest, unguarded desire laid bare—beautifully, heart-stoppingly bare—and he couldn't stand another moment being apart from you.

Not now.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb suddenly barked, addressing a startled officer nearby. “Dismiss the remaining personnel immediately. I'll review their reports tomorrow.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Ignoring the curious, whispered speculations behind him, Caleb strode swiftly toward the exit, doing his best not to stumble in his frantic rush. His heart battered wildly against his ribs, pulse thundering as he vividly imagined exactly how he'd greet you once he finally got you in his arms.

You'd completely unraveled him—and there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Author's Note:

This was definitely a challenge—but such a fun one! I'm genuinely impressed by all the talented writers who effortlessly create amazing LAD stories. If you enjoyed these little scenarios, please let me know—I’d love to write more! Also, if you have any specific requests or prompts, feel free to drop them in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

6K notes · View notes

digi-diareis · 9 days ago

Text

Frail state of mind

Sum. What happens when you give caleb aphrodisiac candy instead of normal ones on his birthday? Find out in the next episode...

Warnings. fem reader, mdni, use of aphrodisiacs, unprotected, 2.2k words. Also, happy one year to me writing on this account whaaat. Ily.

Caleb feels weird.

Or to be exact, his body feels weird, like he's on fire. Oh no, did he develop a fever? Right when you both were going to celebrate his birthday?

His breathing becomes slightly heavier as he looks around, from the ceiling, to the candy drops, to you, then back to the candy drops.

“how did you like the candy? Sour?”

His eyes narrow, and he presses his lips together repeatedly to catch the after taste of the candy.

It was sour, with a slight sweet aftertaste.

He felt like he couldn't even focus properly with how fast his heart was beating. You definitely noticed the way his cheeks have turned from their usual pale shade into a dusty light pink.

For a long, long moment he just stared at you, dumbfounded and unable to do anything else.

"Yeah, right," he finally said, his voice a bit higher than usual. "Is this your idea of a prank?”

So he did caught on, although slower than he usually would.

“Happy birthday?” you smile innocently.

I'm gonna die, is what goes through his head.

"Yeah, some birthday it is," he muttered, letting out a stifled breath as the heat began to pool in his lower abdomen. "And the side effects?"

He was trying his best to keep a cool head, but it was getting increasingly difficult when all he wanted to do was to grab you by the arm and force you to kneel in front of him and—

"Whaaaat?" you purposely avoid his eyes while slowly taking your seat next to him, "what side affects? They're just normal candies, do you not like them?"

Caleb grumbled under his breath, shifting on the couch in an attempt to relieve the growing ache in his pants. You didn't need to be that close to him

With his cheeks flushed and his dark eyes glued to you, he clenched his fist and tried his best to keep his thoughts in check. "You don't understand," he muttered, his voice dropping a bit lower. "It's not regular candy, I can.." Feel something.

You raise an eyebrow, then your eyes catch the real problem, the obvious erection which looked almost painful.

“you think i gave you some sort of aphrodisiac?” you gasp dramatically, but really, you're trying not to laugh. The effects worked almost instantly. “baby, i would never. On your birthday? No way…”

"Uh-huh," he hummed with an arched eyebrow, now having a hard time focusing on something other than you. He was getting hotter and hotter, and you were still so close to him. So close, within reach.

He tried to subtly move back, but the way his shirt was sticking to his skin only made him more irritated. "Then why does it feel like I'm on fire, huh?”

You place your hand on his knee, “maybe i look too hot for you?”

"You're not wrong," he replied between gritted teeth, biting back a moan when you put a hand on his knee.

"...." you stare at him closely, you're not exactly sure how long the side effects were supposed to last. But you were a bit... Worried.

"are you okay?" you finally break the teasing act to feel his neck using the back of your hand, and Caleb groans at the touch, his body automatically leaning into your hand to seek more of the cool comfort it provided.

With a shaky sigh, he managed a soft, "Yeah... 'm alright."

Truth was, he was far from alright. His skin felt like it was on fire, and every little contact sent a jolt of electric heat straight into his cock. He was straining to keep up his self-control, but it was getting harder by the second.

“something else doesn't look alright..” you voice your concern quietly when you eye the erection he's been sporting for a while..

He spreads his legs slightly wider before his gaze follows yours, and he could feel his face turn even hotter as he realized what you were looking at.

He hastily tried to adjust his pants to hide the obvious tent that had formed, but there was no use. (it's not like he wants to hide it. He wants to show you how much he wants you by teasing you more if he could.)

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to find his voice. "It's... it's nothing," he lied weakly.

You shook your head, thinking to get him some water without feeling too flustered about the situation, “that won't do, I'll get you some water.”

Water…?

Caleb fidgeted with the hem of his dress shirt, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the fabric. "No. I just… need you, please..." he murmured, the word turning into a pleading whine.

"oh," you blink twice, feeling almost stupid that you were actually supposed to help.

He practically whimpered as you just stood there, and he couldn't take it anymore, it was too much.

He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer until you were sitting in his lap. He then wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"Please," he repeated, his voice shaky and desperate. "Touch me. Anywhere. Just... please.”

"easy, big guy." you grin, moving the strands away from his forehead to kiss the empty spot.

Caleb groaned as your lips touched his skin, your lips moves from his forehead, to his nose, then his cheeks.

He tilted his head back, a needy sound escaping his throat as you continued to pepper his face with kisses. He was desperate for more, his body arching upwards in an attempt to get closer to you, while his hands ran over your body, skimming over your dress, desperate for skin-on-skin contact.

Caleb feels his mind going blank when you dart your tongue out to wet his dry lips before taking his mouth into yours messily.

His every thought focused solely on you and the way your body was moving against his. The friction was both a relief and a tease, causing him to moan again, the sound muffled by your mouth on his.

You pull away first, “be a good boy for me, yeah?” you whisper before pressing another peck to his lips.

If caleb wasn't fully hard earlier, then he is now.

You tugged at his belt, taking it off to help him slide his pants off, along with his almost ruined (Calvin Klein) boxers.

Caleb immediately moans shamelessly with his head falling back the minute your thumb rubbed over the sensitive dark red head of his cock. The slow, sensual rubs makes his whole body shiver, and his hips jerks upwards involuntarily.

“a-ah, fuck,” the words slip out in an almost whiny tone, he could almost, almost cum like this. But he wouldn't, not until you cum first, because that would be selfish of him, no?

Plus he liked seeing you come undone first anyway.

Lost in the distraction of teasing him, you don't even notice his shaky hands parting your thighs, it's only when you suddenly feel fingers skimming over your inner thighs until they found the damp fabrics of your panties, is when you shudder in place.

Without any warning, he rubbed two fingers over your clothed clit, his touch firm yet slow, just like how you've been touching him.

“Caleb,” you try closing your thighs together, but to no avail, as his free hand is keeping one of your thighs firmly in place. his eyes are focused down while his thumb hikes up your dress further to reveal his fingers that's been teasing you.

He rubbed over your clothed slit again, “looks like someone is excit—” Caleb's words were cut off by a gasp when your thumb circled around the weeping tip of his cock, smearing the bead of precum around the swollen head.

You could feel your heart beat right in your ears, the touches is not enough, you need him. As much as he needs you.

You finally pull his wrist away, and at first he's confused, but his eyes widen when you slip your panties off, and biting the hem of your dress to reveal more of your pussy and stomach.

Caleb could faint at the absolute goddess in front of him (you), he should be shot right om the spot for even trying something like this with y—

“honey, hurry, I'll make you feel allll better.”

He done. He can already imagine the wedding bells, house, and kids.

Caleb presses the swollen tip of his cock against your slick entrance. His lips are parted shakily as he rubs it along your slit, coating himself in your arousal, marking his cock with your scent.

When he reached the top of your slit, he circled your clit with the tip, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were a squirming mess in his lap.

“y-you—! fuck, feels good—” you pant, your eyes almost half lidded as his hips roll to bump against your clit with each rotation.

While keeping his eyes locked on your face, he slowly pushed forward, sinking his thick cock into your tight, dripping cunt.

"Ohh, fuck yeah..." Caleb moaned long and low as he felt your walls stretch around him, inch by inch, he slid deeper, until he was buried to the hilt.

Caleb's grip tightened on your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard as he matched your rhythm, slamming up into you that sent your back arching into him, his free hands are clutching your dress to keep him in check, also sliding up to give your breasts gentle squeezes.

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your shared moans and panting breaths.

"Shit, baby, you feel... ungh... fucking incredible," he grunted, his hips snapping up to meet each downward bounce of your hips, and he could feel your walls fluttering and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper.

"Wanna... want you to come on my cock, pips," Caleb demanded, his voice a desperate, needy whine. His thumb found your clit, rubbing hard and fast circles over the sensitive nub. The other hand slid around to grip the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh.

Caleb’s head falls back when he feels your cunt clamp down around him like a vice, squeezing and milking his throbbing cock. "j-just like that, honey," he whispered, his eyes rolling back from the feeling of you coming undone around him.

With a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt, and then he was coming, coming harder than he ever had in his life.

"you’re gonna take it all, yeah, pips? k-keep it in there for Caleb, shit—" Caleb snarled, his hips jerking and stuttering as he emptied himself inside you. His balls pulsed and throbbed as they pumped out spurt after spurt of his spent, filling you to the brim until it leaked out around his pistoning cock.

caleb’s head falls back on your chest as he takes big breaths, his thumbs rubbing circles on your sides. and your arms encircles around his shoulders as you rest your face on top of his head.

“… happy birthday, hope you enjoyed your lil gift… heh,”

“i’m giving the candies to gideon.”

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digi-diareis · 9 days ago

Text

Summer Loving | Caleb LADS

summary: Summer has just begun and Caleb is finally home on break from the Aerospace Academy! Too bad you can't stay in the same room as him for fear of jumping his bones. cw: 18+, MDNI, fem!reader, Oral Sex (giving/receiving), Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Spitting, Nipple Play, kinda rough sex (idk? adding it just in case. Caleb is just eager imo), Overstimulation, Caleb puts reader through the ringer (and the mattress) tbh a/n: I tried soooooo hard to finish this in time for Caleb's birthday but it kept getting longer and longer. He is just too sexy omg, the ideas kept coming (kinda like reader in this fic lmao). Better late than never, though. Anyway, thank you for reading!! Blowing you a kiss, hope you enjoy :) Banners by the one and only @cafekitsune wc: 6.5k (jesus fucking christ)

Summer, the season most beloved by you. With it comes beach days, sun tans, ice cream, and apparently...

“Caleb! Get out of there already! Are you kidding me?”

A heat-induced demon of rage.

You kick at the bathroom door as you growl for him to make his long-awaited exit. Caleb turns up the volume on his speaker in response.

Ever since Caleb came home on break from the Aerospace Academy, he has been breakdancing on your last nerve. Sure, he still dotes on you like always. But the time spent apart while he was away in Skyhaven has made him even more unyielding in his quest to tick you off.

Maybe it’s a Caleb-induced demon after all.

“You know what? I won’t break the door down. I’m a lady,” you shout over the music. “But just know when I get in there, I’m gonna kick. Your. Ass. Count your days!”

You stomp off to your room and rummage through your desk drawer until you find a pair of scissors. You practically sprint back to the bathroom so you can jam one blade between the door and its frame until the lock clicks softly.

Steam envelopes you once you push the door open. You can hardly see ahead of you, let alone make your way to the only working toilet in the house. The thought alone is enough to seduce your heat-demon into coming out to play. You manage to appease her by powering off Caleb’s speaker, perched on the jack and jill sink.

“Hey Pipsqueak. I’m totally done in the bathroom unless my still being in the shower made that less than obvious. Feel free to come right in,” he says from the confines of the fog-covered glass shower.

“Oh, you better be done in here, Selfish. You have no reason to shower this long.”

You thank every higher power when you make it to the toilet in time. The relief you feel makes you all the more furious with Caleb. He’s not allowed to hog the bathroom when you clearly need it more than he does. Seriously, what could he have been doing for the past forty-five minutes?

You’ve only just finished when the water from the shower cuts off. Dread plummets into your stomach when the door pops open and Caleb reaches for his towel. He steps out a moment later, the same white, fluffy towel wrapped around his trim waist. His skin, flushed from the heat of the shower, is freckled with droplets of water.

You and Caleb are close. You’ve been through so much together that it would be impossible not to be. Normally sharing the bathroom with him wouldn’t be such a huge deal. But something about having him back after so long... You’re seeing everything about him with the focus of a space observatory locked onto a new galaxy.

For starters, he’s buff now.

He was in good enough shape before enrolling in the academy but now his muscles are honed to a degree that is both absurd and unfair. You can barely look at his bare arms without your face erupting with heat. Which is why seeing him now, nearly naked save for that damned towel, is just enough to ruin your cognitive processing.

“You break into the bathroom while I’m still in it and you’re the one who looks scared?” Caleb leans into your space, head cocked slightly. “How does that work?”

You feel faint; clearly, you didn’t think things through. Caleb seems to have come to a similar conclusion. He laughs as he retreats to the dual sinks at the opposite end of the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, I won’t peek,” he says. Your heart nearly tumbles off your tongue.

You hurriedly gather a handful of toilet paper, which only makes him laugh louder. Once you’ve pulled your sleep shorts back into place, you make your way to the sink beside Caleb. You adjust the faucet until the water runs warm and wash your hands.

“Me and Gideon are gonna play some basketball in the park if you want to tag along,” Caleb says as he squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

“Pass. I’m meeting up with the girls at the mall.”

“I knew you’d come up with a reason not to go.”

“It’s not an excuse; we’ve had this planned for days. Besides, I don’t want–”

You make the mistake of glancing at him mid-sentence. It’s impossible to save face when he crosses one arm across his chest while he brushes his teeth. All the muscles in his biceps, his pecs, bunch and shift so enticingly that you clench your jaw hard.

Caleb spits some toothpaste out, and you unfortunately pay too much attention to the foam clinging to his mouth. Even the sound of him spitting is doing strange things to you.

“My eyes are up here, you know.”

Your gaze snaps back to his and your heart stutters in its rhythm. His eyes twinkle with amusement to your absolute horror.

“You were saying, ‘I don’t want...”

I don’t want to keep lusting after you like this. “I-I don’t want to spend the day melting at the park. The mall is air-conditioned at least.”

“Aww, too cool to hang with your gege now?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and load up your own toothbrush with toothpaste.

“I would but...I don’t know, I think you should make me.”

“What?”

“You did threaten to beat my ass when you got in here.” Caleb smiles at you playfully. “So go on, shut me up for good.”

You groan long and low. “I’m brushing my teeth in the kitchen.” If you stay in here a second longer you might lick the rest of the foam off his mouth.

“Hey, don’t back down now. Come on, Pips!”

“No, I’m leaving. I shouldn’t have barged in at all. But if I catch you in here ten minutes from now Caleb, I’ll make the Chronorift Catastrophe the second worst incident you’ve ever lived through.”

His face sobers at once. At least he knows that you mean business.

You pop your toothbrush into your mouth as you make your way down the hallway.

“Hurry up!” you warn, words muffled by too much toothpaste.

The afternoon finds you, Tara, and Simone chilling at the food court, after some window shopping. Though it was a little less window and a lot more shopping, thanks to Caleb. He gave you some spending money (after clearing out of the bathroom in five minutes!) that you gladly spent on some cute outfits to survive the rest of the summer. Carrying such heavy bags around really is exhausting. You’re all enjoying cherry icees while you relax and catch up. Well, Simone and Tara are still enjoying their icees. Your extra-large cup was empty in five minutes.

“So, is this emergency meeting about Caleb or...?” Tara asks.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with you two?” Simone adds.

“He’s driving me insane,” you groan. “Everything he does is just, ugh! I can’t exist in the same space as him anymore.”

Your friends have been on the receiving end of many a text complaining about the most innocuous things Caleb has been doing for the past week and a half. Making you braised chicken wings, touching up his models in the living room, changing your phone background to a picture of him, catching his breath after a morning run, brushing his teeth beside you. Being at home at all. Everything has been setting you off lately. It’s to the point that you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. What if you do something embarrassing in front of him? He will never let you forget.

You shudder at the thought. He has a lifetime of humiliating ammunition to wield against you, no need to give him anything more.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you move into my room and I move into yours so I can deal with your Caleb issue for you,” Tara says. She and Simone burst out laughing, and they only get louder when they look at you again.

“Don’t make that face! We’re just messing with you,” Simone giggles.

“I’m not making a face,” you grumble.

“You look like you just got sprayed by a Lemonette,” Tara deadpans. “Besides, I doubt I could even handle Caleb. One glance my way and I’d disintegrate!”

“Same here. I really don’t know how you do it,” Simone adds.

“I don’t! That’s why I’ve been avoiding him so much.”

It’s hard to believe that only two weeks ago you could hardly wait for Caleb to come home. Now he plagues your every waking thought. And sleep offers no respite as he frequents your dreams as well. You’re ashamed to admit the number of mornings you woke up soaked with sweat and arousal from whatever sweet torture Dream Caleb subjected you to.

"How about, instead of ignoring his very existence, you model some of the cute clothes you bought earlier,” Simone says.

“I love that. You can do a little fashion show for him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Tara chimes in.

“I am not doing that.”

You want to make a very important distinction that trying on one (1) outfit for Caleb to see on you is NOT the same as a one-woman runway show. And this hardly counts as an outfit. You’re in a pair of pale green, terrycloth shorts that are a size too small. Sneaky Simone must have put back the actual size you wanted when you were trying things on earlier. You’re also wearing a cropped, white tank top with a fucking paper airplane on it, purchased at both Simone and Tara’s cheeky behest.

You stand before the floor length mirror in your room, inspecting your reflection. Your butt looks great, even if it is peeking out just a little. And you’d probably buy the top anyway, even if Caleb wasn’t around to see you in it.

Honestly, your outfit isn’t so different from what you’d normally wear in the summer, but something about them being purchased with Caleb in mind makes you nervous. You hate this feeling. You're about to change all together, but the front door opens and slams shut, announcing Caleb’s arrival.

“Yo, Pipsqueak! You home yet?” His footfalls grow louder as he makes his way through the house.

“I thought you could track my every move with that insane app you installed on both our phones.”

You watch Caleb lean against your door frame and cross his arms through the mirror. A sheen of sweat covers his sun-tanned skin. And his hair sticks up in such a cute way. You want to reach up and push it back for him.

No, stop thinking about his hair. You can’t afford to entertain such dangerous thoughts. Considering how you’ve been lately, you might yank him by those silky strands and kiss him instead.

“Yeah, I can. Buuuut it’s still nice to hear from the source.”

“I’m safe at home as you can see. You don't have to keep treating me like a kid, you know?”

“I’m not treating you like a kid. Doesn’t matter when, how, or why. I’ll always want to make sure you’re safe and taken care of.”

His tone is so serious that you turn to face him directly. The stress marring his features disappears almost instantly when your eyes meet. But his eyes dip, tracing you from head to toe. Your breath falters. Does he like what he sees? Or is he about to piss you off and force you to change? Last week when you wore a crop top and shorts to meet up with some friends he’d nearly locked you in your room.

Caleb clears his throat. “Anyway, Gran called. She’s working late tonight so we’ll have dinner without her.”

“What are you thinking of making me?”

“Mushroom stir fry.”

You blink at him. Is he serious? “What can I do to convince you to make braised pork instead.”

“Braised chicken wings. Braised pork. Something tells me you won’t let me leave before I’ve braised everything under the sun,” he says. “What’s next, braised luminivore? Braised spurtail?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re right. With your appetite, you’re gonna need to take down a whole wyrmlord.”

You shoulder past him, hard. And your irritation mounts when his laughter all but chases you down the hallway.

“Don’t be mad, I was only kidding,” he calls after you.

You make yourself comfortable in the living area, taking your usual place at the center of the couch. You hope at the very least Caleb will hang out in his room for a second, maybe hit the shower after playing basketball well into the afternoon. But it’s only natural that he would come join you here, especially considering how little you’ve seen each other these past few days.

Caleb plops down to the left of you, arms stretched across the back of the couch. He leans his head back and observes you keenly. Your stomach ties itself in knots of irritation and intrigue.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Your muscles look more toned.” He rubs a hand down your bicep for emphasis, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “You definitely could have helped me out on the court today.”

“Sorry my plans interfered with you reclaiming the title of ‘King of the Playground’.”

“To make up for it, why not watch a movie with me.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Come onnn, you already ditched me once today. And we’re sitting here anyway.” Caleb’s face falls a little when he asks. “Is it really so bad? Hanging out with me?”

Guilt squeezes at your heart. You’ve been so busy trying to steer clear of him for your own sanity, you didn’t even consider his feelings in all this.

“No, I love hanging out with you. You’re my favorite person in the world. I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt that. I’m just...going through a lot right now.”

“Is something wrong?” he asks, immediately concerned.

“It’s nothing to worry about!” you say too quickly to be convincing. “Let’s see if there’s any good sci-fi movies on TV.”

“It’s ok to rely on me sometimes, you know.”

“I know,” you say as you sidle closer to him. “But I promise it’s nothing.”

Caleb sighs and pulls you even closer. Your breath hitches; you’re practically glued to his side now. He’s so warm, so solid beside you. And the musky blend of sweat and oaky deodorant is difficult to ignore this close. You actively have to resist the urge to bury your face in his underarm to inhale his scent.

You try to move away, but Caleb doesn’t let you budge, not while he inspects you carefully. It’s hard to breathe with his soft gaze flitting all over your face. After a few excruciating moments he raises his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright. If you say so,” he sighs. “Now hand me the remote.”

You go to pass it to him, but you pull it completely from his grasp at the last second.

“No way!” You wag the remote in his face. “You chose the movie last time.”

“That was months ago, and–” he snatches the remote from you with ease, “it doesn’t matter if it was my idea to watch a movie in the first place. Plus, I’m practically a guest here. You should be a lot nicer to me.”

“What kind of guest cooks and cleans for their host?”

“And does all the laundry. Don’t forget laundry.” He pauses as if in deep thought. “As it turns out, I do basically everything for you, huh?”

No use arguing there. If you do, he’ll ‘threaten’ to stop doing all these chores for you.

“You win, go ahead and pick something good please.”

Leave it to Caleb to pick the most boring movie on the planet. While the space scenes are visually stunning, it’s a rare break from the overall monotony of the film. And you’ve barely made it through the first hour; you don’t know if you have another two in you.

In fact, it’s so boring that you can’t even watch it to distract yourself from Caleb, who still has your rigid form pressed snug against his side. You feel like you’re about to explode from the frustration of being in his grasp, unable to reciprocate his affection without jumping on him.

You need to relax. You’re sure he can feel your fragile heart galloping in your chest but has been kind enough not to mention it.

With a sigh of defeat, you settle against him finally, rest your head on his shoulder. Focus on his breaths, in and out, in and out. The rhythm, slow and relaxed, is soothing to you. Exactly what you need.

Your eyes flutter shut as your breath syncs with Caleb’s. He can’t distract you if you’re asleep.

...But then again, he could reappear in your dreams. That would be more of a nightmare at this moment.

“You tired pipsqueak?” Caleb asks against your temple. “You’re nice and cuddly like this. You remind me of a little shrimp.”

“All these years I thought this movie would be more entertaining. You were always watching it.”

“Sorry you’re not feeling it. What can I do to cure your boredom then?” He asks, humor in his tone.

Your lips spread with a smile, but it falls away when you open your eyes again. His face is so close to yours, and you’re confronted with how beautiful he is. How much he’s changed since going off to the academy. Before you know it, your lips brush his in a slow, charged kiss. So soft that it makes the sudden flick between your eyebrows hurt that much more.

“–Earth to Pipsqueak,” Caleb says, hand still poised at your forehead. “Ah, there she is! Where’d ya go just then?”

You jump to the edge of the couch, your skin scalding. You’re horrified by how vivid your imagination is.

Caleb pauses the movie. He scrutinizes you, brows pinched and eyes brimming with pain. They pin you in place when you would much rather run and hide.

“Remember how we promised not to keep any secrets from each other?” he asks quietly.

“…Yeah, but why are you bringing it up now?”

“Since we agreed not to have any secrets…be honest. Am I bothering you?”

All the blood drains from your face. “Huh? No, of course not.”

“Now that I think about it, you’ve been acting very strange lately. Jumpy and jittery anytime I’m around. What gives?”

“Caleb, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Look, you’ve gotta know by now that you can talk to me about anything. No matter how embarrassing or difficult. We don’t have to tiptoe around each other like we’re following an instruction manual. And I hate worrying about you. So please, just…rip the bandaid off.”

“I have a crush on you!” You blurt out miserably. “That’s why I’ve been… like this. And it might be weird to you, but that’s how I feel.”

“Seriously?” Caleb asks. He looks… delighted? You weren’t expecting that.

“Seriously,” you say, a little more confidence in your voice. “But we can’t cross that line.”

“You sure about that?” There’s a flirtatious lilt to his words that you can’t ignore to save your life.

“Maybe the line was crossed the moment you thought about this.” Caleb moves back into your space, splays his hands on your rib cage. He pushes you gently onto the couch cushion until you lay flat before his kneeling figure.

“Since the line has already been crossed… why not go all the way?”

Caleb tugs the waistband of your shorts down slightly and presses a wet kiss to the skin right above the scalloped hem of your underwear. You gasp sharply, and you shiver when you feel him smile against the line of your hips in response.

He surges upward to bring his face in between your breasts; grabs and kisses them through the thin material of your tank top.

“This shirt is new, right? It doesn’t have your scent yet,” he says between kisses. “Let me guess, you bought this just for me.”

You can only nod. But it’s enough for Caleb to groan against your right breast and finally bring it into his mouth. He sucks on your clothed nipple hard, and you hiss from the pain.

“E-easy. They’re sensitive.”

“Sorry.” He kisses the center of your chest in apology, then hikes up your top over your breasts. He massages them in both his hands before he licks your other nipple to a stiff peak. The shock of his mouth on your skin again has you writhing against him.

He kisses a trail along your left breast and up towards the juncture between your neck and shoulder, where he bites down hard. You cry out sharply as Caleb sucks and laves his tongue on the bite. The sting of it makes your cunt tighten in anticipation.

“It’s already bruising. Sorry about that,” he whispers directly in your ear. His warm breath on your heated skin leaves you lightheaded.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine.

“The girl of my dreams just told me she has feelings for me. Excuse me for trying to savor the moment.”

“The girl of your–”

Caleb cuts you off with a kiss, finally. Plush lips lock with yours as he slowly grinds his hips into you. His tongue dips into your mouth eagerly, and you bury a hand in his hair to pull him closer. It feels so good being under him like this, touching and kissing him like this. You don’t know if you’ll ever get enough Caleb.

As soon as you press your hips to meet his, he breaks away from the kiss. Caleb kneels before you once again and yanks down your shorts, leaving you only in panties made shear from your arousal. He lifts your bottom half upward until your knees rest on your shoulders, and your pussy is presented to him.

Caleb presses his face into you and inhales deeply. His eyes roll back into his head, and he gives a pained groan. Goosebumps decorate your quivering body as he runs his thumb over the soaked fabric. When he presses the digit on your clit, more of your slick gushes out of you. He impatiently pushes your panties halfway down your thighs; you can now see the tufts of hair on your mound glistening with arousal. A wave of embarrassment threatens to drown you at the sight, but it pales in comparison to the absolute mortification you feel when Caleb spreads you open with his thumbs and spits onto your already drenched center. You can hardly breathe as he rubs his spit into your folds and dips one of his thumbs into your tight entrance, shallowly fucking you with it but not for long enough. He leaves you clenching around nothing.

There’s an unfocused haze clouding his vibrant eyes when he spits on your cunt again. He seems to be putting all his focus into finding out what makes you gasp and moan.

Which turns out to be anything he does to you. Shocking.

“You’re so wet,” he says as he eases you back onto the couch. “Let me try…”

You whimper when he first licks your pussy, a broad stroke of his tongue over soaked flesh.

“Mmm, I like it. You’re so sweet.”

You watch him suck on your clit and lick your folds in pure astonishment. He’s really getting into it, kissing your pussy like he did your mouth. You massage one of your breasts, pinching and tugging on your nipple, and grab a fistful of his hair. He pushes his tongue into you and your thighs clench around his head.

Caleb moans into you, takes hold of your thighs, and pushes them apart again. As if in retaliation, he begins his wicked assault on your clit. He flicks his tongue against it and hollows his cheeks when he slurps it back into his mouth. Your body shakes in his hold; all of your nerves feel raw. You cum when he catches your swollen nub between his teeth. Tears streak your cheeks and your essence stains his face. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps on working you up until the overstimulation gets to be too much for you. You use the hand in his hair to tug him away.

Caleb sits up and smirks at you, all too satisfied with the mess he’s reduced you to. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then helps you sit up also. He situates you on his lap, hands on your ass, mouth around one of your tits as you both grind on each other.

Although you feel so good, you don’t like giving him the upper hand. You set your teeth into his kiss-swollen bottom lip and tug it gently as you pull away from him completely. He chases after your lips, but you move off his waist in favor of kneeling on the cushion beside him. A smirk of your own plays on your face when you reach for the waistband of his basketball shorts. His wide eyes are dark with desire.

“Shit,” he sighs when his cock springs up against his abs. “Lick the sides of it, all of it.”

The lust you feel overrides the irritation of having him tell you what to do. You suck one of his balls into your mouth so as not to heed his command right away. His cock jumps and his abdomen spasms at the sensation. Pre spurts out of him in a thick rivulet.

“Let me clean that up.” You lick along the length of him, moaning at the salty taste of pre-cum and sweat. His entire body shudders when you trace the tip of your tongue under the glans of his cock before taking it in your mouth.

“Show me how much you want it,” Caleb groans. “Spit on it.”

You do as he says, a frothy trail of saliva dripping from your lips onto the flushed tip. You jerk his cock a few times; your hand just barely wraps around it. You wonder briefly if you’ll be able to even take all of him. But the look of complete bliss on his face, from just a few pumps of your hand makes you eager to try. You open your mouth wide to take him, bobbing your head about halfway.

“You can go lower,” Caleb encourages. He caresses your bare back and kneads your ass, gentle touches that make you arch into them. You relax your throat to swallow more of him. He swears harshly under his breath again, and then you feel two fingers push into your pussy.

You pull away from his cock with a gasp and jerk him off as you try to catch your breath. But Caleb fucking his fingers into you certainly doesn’t help.

“Knock it off.” You spit on his cock again, squeeze it a bit tighter when you reach the tip. “It’s my turn.”

“I can't make you feel good, too? Hmm?” Caleb asks as you glare at him. He curls his fingers into your sweet spot and you cum again. Eyes clenched and legs going weak. You collapse onto your side, and Caleb guides your head so your cheek rests on his stomach.

“You have such a cute face,” he groans. “I just wanna fuck it.”

He keeps one hand on the top of your head and guides his cock back into your mouth with the other. He thrusts his hips upward, and you gag at the sudden intrusion.

You massage his balls as he fucks your mouth. The hinge of your jaw is starting to get sore with the effort sucking him off, but hearing him gasp and moan above you, feeling his thighs twitch beneath you... It’s worth it, knowing that you’re able to make him feel this good.

You want to be the only one making him feel this good.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do all this to you,” Caleb moans. He thrusts into you more sloppily, your only sign before he buries himself down your throat and cums, your name a pleasured gasp on his lips. You’ve never heard a more beautiful sound.

Caleb pulls himself out of your mouth once he’s finished. You’re shocked to see his cock has barely softened, still erect and shiny. He must know you’re ogling it, because he asks, “Wanna try riding it?”

You straighten up and nod.

“Good. Get up here.”

Caleb positions your knees on either side of his waist again and kisses you. His tongue strokes yours in a slow seduction. He seems content to take his time working you up. But you’re aching for him. You reach for the base of his cock so you can guide it into your swollen pussy. Already you feel sated just from sitting on it.

Caleb lays beneath you, and you brace yourself with one hand on the back of the couch, the other on a cushion so you can rock your hips against him. You’re so full, you want to keep him buried inside you forever.

He lifts you by your waist and pushes you down onto his length as he presses deep into you. Your walls clench around him, and he hisses sharply. Caleb pulls you down until you lay chest to chest. He takes hold of your ass and bounces you in time with his thrusts.

“It’s so good,” you whine.

“You like it when I fuck you this deep?”

“I do.”

“Hmm? I can’t hear you.” He plants his feet and pistons his hips into you faster.

“Caleb! I love it, I love it,” you cry out.

He grabs your face and pulls you in for a messy kiss as you cum and cry for him. Your pussy tightens around him as your essence coats your thighs and his.

He lifts you off him and repositions you so you sit on his face like you would on the couch. He wraps his lips around yours and sucks. Everything he does makes you crazy with desire, and you’re desperate to return the favor. You lean onto your side and take his cock back into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him. You hollow your cheeks like he did to your poor clit earlier, trace your tongue along his frenulum.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of you two bringing each other to orgasm. It’s as if you’re competing to see who can push who to climax first.

You sob when Caleb lifts you off his face, but he swiftly repositions you so your back drapes over his chest and he pushes back inside you with a rumbling groan. He maneuvers your bunched up tank top off and fucks up into you at a fast pace. He alternates between playing with your bouncing breasts and toying with your swollen clit. Drool leaks out of your mouth with every second of unbelievable pleasure he puts you through.

Caleb hooks his elbows under your knees and folds you in half again. He braces his hands on the either side of your neck and pounds into your softened pussy. The angle makes you feel faint; he’s so deep, you’re wound up so tight.

He shifts you both onto your sides, dropping your left leg so he can swipe at your clit; your right leg propped up even higher by his elbow. He continues to drive himself into you hard. Your vision blurs from the intensity of this moment. You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room.

You can’t believe he’s fucking you in the living room.

“Caleb, wait,” you pant. “What if Grandma comes back?”

“Relax, I told you–ungh–she won’t be back until late.”

You know he’s probably right, but the thought of her coming home, catching you both like this, terrifies you. But the fear is somehow electrifying and before you know it you reach an orgasm like no other. You can’t stop cumming on his cock as he languidly fucks you through it.

“Caleb!” You wail.

“My name isn’t a safe word.” He kisses you roughly then sucks on your nipple. “Saying my name won’t make me stop.”

“Please, let’s just go to your, ahh! Your room!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “You are so hard to please.”

He pulls out of you and stands up from the couch. You reach out for him, and he picks you up with ease before slamming you back on his cock. He uses your body like he would a fleshlight, bouncing you on his length so effortlessly even as he walks you both to his room.

Caleb kicks his door closed behind him. He lays you down among his pillows, still plowing into you. The necklace you gave him sways in your face; the sight of it heats your blood to boiling.

“Fuck,” he drawls. He pulls his cock out with a lewd squelch and fucks his hand at a furious pace, concentrating on its head so that milky droplets of cum adorn your body.

Caleb tears his shirt off so he can lay flush on your chest to kiss you, slow and hungry. He weighs you down so deliciously, and yet you wrap your legs around his waist, arms on his back, wanting him closer still.

“Mmm,” he says before another kiss. “You wanna keep going at it?”

“Yes, I want all of you.”

“Alright,” he flips you onto your knees, lifts your hips up into the air. He leans over your back to whisper right in your ear.

“But now I’ll be rougher. This time… you can’t tell me to stop.”

Caleb grabs your waist to the point of bruising and impales you on his dick. He pulls you back onto him as he pistons his hips against your ass. His balls slap against your clit with every heavy press of his dick in your sopping wet cunt, striking you with a jolt of lightning each time your bodies meet.

You feel a hand card through your hair before it’s pulled hard. You cry out at the white-hot pain, the lick of lightning that zings down your back as it’s forced into a deep arch.

“You’re so sexy like this. Letting me fuck you however I want.”

“Ca-Caleb…Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again.”

“Yeah? You like my cock that much? But you thought it was a good idea to ignore me?”

Caleb’s palm comes down on your ass hard. The shock and sting of it makes your walls spasm around him. His words melt your brain. You cum so hard that your body shivers with prickly pleasure.

He presses your face into the pillows and fucks you harder. You groan, feeling too much. His skin sticking to yours, cum running down your thighs. Your throat is sore when you rasp his name.

His hands wrap around your elbows, and he yanks you back onto him. He fucks into you messily. The sounds of your fervent coupling arouse you to no end despite the overstimulation that takes hold of you.

“Gonna cum again like a good girl, hmm?” He growls.

You moan in response. Caleb hooks one arm under both of yours and pulls you closer to him. His pace hardly falters.

“I asked you a question.” He lands a quick slap to your clit and you yelp. “Or are you so fucked out for me that you can’t even speak? I’m fucking you that good, huh?”

Caleb releases your arms to wrap his own around your torso. He grabs your breasts and throat, and your breaths leave you shallowly. Your wanton moans fill the air as Caleb pounds his cock into your softened walls.

“So... Fucking...Good,” you groan. “Fuck don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

Caleb presses into your sweet spot more forcefully. That coupled with his fingers on your twitching clit leaves you no other choice but to plummet into the throes of yet another earth-shattering orgasm. You fall limp against Caleb’s chest; your mouth stretches around a whisper-soft shriek.

He holds you tight in his overwhelming embrace. His hips grind into you at a slower, sloppier pace as he shoots his cum deep inside your cunt. You feel his cock finally soften as you try to breathe.

“Your eyes are fluttering again. Rest. I’ll hold you.”

Caleb settles you both into the bed, his spent cock still snug within your cunt. He wraps himself around you, legs tangled with yours, his cheek on your temple. The soft vibrations of his words are enough to coax you into a sleepy state.

“So, this is what it feels like to have you in my arms,” he whispers. “Should I hold you even tighter?”

“Please,” you mumble. He wraps his arms around your center again and hugs you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t like this. You dislike the feeling of being ensnared, right? Am I the exception?”

“Mhmm.”

Your entire body is sore when you wake up. Muscles ache as you push yourself to sit up in bed. You take stock of your surroundings as you wake up. You’re dressed in one of Caleb’s oversized t-shirts, and you’ve been cleaned up. The scent of sex is a heavy, heady cloud in the air. And the summer sun outside the window casts the room in a burnt orange glow. There’s a beauty to this quiet moment that you want to cherish.

...Did Caleb really fuck you that good? You’re in here waxing poetic about everything you see. You’ve never felt this blissed out before.

The door to his bedroom eases open and Caleb appears with a glass of water in hand. A swarm of butterflies takes flight in your stomach when he smiles at you affectionately. You’re not sure what to say to him. Even after...everything, you feel so shy before him.

You forget all about that when a succulent scent wafts into the room.

“Do I smell braised pork? So, I was able to convince you after all.”

“You know when it comes to food, there’s really no underestimating what you can do. You sure you don’t want me to cook you a nice, juicy wyrmlord?”

“You have enough energy to tease me?” You ask.

“And then some. I could make you cum all day, every day for a week and still find the time to toy with you.”

You fling a pillow at his head that he catches with a boyish laugh.

“Careful, you’ll spill the water I so thoughtfully brought you. Drink up.” Caleb holds the glass to your lips, and the heated look he gives you prompts you to open your mouth and take a few sips. Some water trickles out from the corner of your mouth as you do, so Caleb puts the glass on his nightstand and wipes it from your chin and bottom lip with his thumb.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a smile on your face despite your burning cheeks.

“Well, you did call me selfish earlier.”

“Because you were hogging the bathroom. What did you expect?”

“It just reminded me of one time when we were younger. When you first called me selfish. It left a deep impression on me.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Caleb sits down beside you in bed. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there as he speaks. “You know I’ve always wanted to grow up as a generous…you know.”

Your face heats up at the implication.

“And you weren’t far off. I can be downright selfish sometimes. I want you to let me occupy every part of your life. That’s why it hurt so much when you were avoiding me.”

“I’m sorry Caleb. I just...wanted you to belong only to me. And I didn’t think that was possible, so I lost my head a little bit.”

"If you want all of Caleb...Well, I’m yours. And I’ll be right here, too.” He places a hand over your heart. “I always have been, I always will be.”

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