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I SEE IT DO YOU?!?!?!?!?!

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Sylus is just husband material 🥰More art on Patreon~

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PUSH N' FRACTURE 2 ! ft. caleb xia + rafayel qi

( wc : 13.7k ) ✰ essence : from paddocks to galas, caleb and rafayel never knew how to play nice. but tonight won’t end with handshakes and headlines. rafayel has a different idea to cool things down—with you between them. after all, sharing is caring, isn’t it?

⋆˙⟡ non evol au, 18+ sexual content (minors dni), dom! caleb + rafayel, smoking, threesome (m!f!m), filming / sex tape kink, slight dubcon, dumbification + corruption, voyeurism, wax play, cunnilingus, facefucking, impact play (spanking/biting/bruising), pet names, degradation + praise, body worship, spit play, choking, double penetration, overstimulation, breeding

─•──── 𖦤 ▸ one | two | three | four

the hilton’s grand ballroom was awash in a golden glow, the chandeliers hanging like constellations over the impeccably dressed crowd—red bull’s electric blue braided seamlessly with mclaren’s papaya orange: it was an evening spun from PR gold—an FIA-organized charity gala meant to plaster smiles over the wreckage of last weekend’s race. cameras swarmed the perimeter, every flash a reminder that every glance, every gesture, was being dissected live by millions.

your gown answers to the occasion: a deep burgundy halter catching lowlight like spilled wine, its fishtail hem coiled neatly at your ankles. black accents carve into the silhouette at your ribs and collarbone, a gold clasp glints at the nape of your neck. crimson nails. dark navy eyeliner. you don’t need the red bull logo stitched anywhere to be unmistakably theirs. 

you sit at a joint table sponsored equally by both teams—an unavoidable diplomatic gesture after the high-profile crash that nearly tore the paddock in half. across from you, the mclaren drivers lounge in finely cut suits, every angle camera-ready. rafayel doesn’t speak to you. he hasn’t, not since that race. but when your eyes met, there’s something cold behind the way he looks at you—like he’s in on a secret you haven’t dared to name. he doesn’t blink. doesn’t budge. he holds your gaze long enough to make your dress feel too tight for your body. you hold the gaze for a breath too long. then, quietly, you look away.

caleb is nowhere to be seen.

he couldn’t possibly miss this—not with the cameras circling like sharks and sponsors salivating for damage control. not after what happened. not with all of this arranged to make him look good again. but the seat beside you stays empty. and every second that ticks by, the silence at your side grows louder.

backstage, chaos was spiraling. claire’s voice was low but fierce over the phone, her frustration barely contained, just shy of explosion. “where the hell is caleb? he was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. this is a disaster—do you hear me? a fucking disaster.” the reply came shaky, almost terrified. “we’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not picking up. his assistant says he’s still at the hotel, but they don’t know—” claire looked like she was about to throw her clipboard at someone. her hands trembled with the effort of keeping her tone professional. “un-fucking-believable. this isn’t just some race weekend screw-up—there are cameras everywhere! the gala starts in ten and sponsors are already breathing down our necks.”

“we need a plan b. how about y/n?” a voice suggested cautiously. claire’s jaw tightened until it looked like she might crack a tooth. “no! she’s not prepared for this, and those MCL fuckers are already lookin' smug as hell.”

the youngest assistant muttered something under their breath—“this is fucking stupid.” claire didn’t even flinch. “say it louder if you want me to hear. we’re cleaning up caleb’s mess tonight, or everything we've worked for will be for nothing.”

she ended the call, drew a shaky breath, and plastered a sharp smile before returning her suit by your side, ready to salvage what she could—though the clock ticked mercilessly.

minutes dragged. then—just as the gala’s keynote speeches began, the stage lighting dimming to a soft wash of gold—the massive hilton doors parted with a hush of effort.

he had the audacity to be late.

and worse: to arrive like that.

the room shifted—conversations faltered, champagne flutes suspended in air, the golden light catching on sequins and stunned expressions as heads turned. he didn’t rush. he didn’t apologize. caleb was dressed in a deep charcoal suit, the open collar, the absence of a tie—not red bull’s formalwear colors, and definitely not something the PR team approved. there were no sponsor pins. no lapel branding. no glittering crest to remind the room who he drove for. he didn’t nod at sponsors, didn’t even spare them a glance at all. 

he didn’t look at anyone but you.

when he passed behind rafayel’s chair, his side briefly brushed the back of it. rafayel didn’t react nor did he lift his head. just tipped his glass with a flick of his wrist, smirk playing faintly at the corner of his mouth. so he showed up after all.

caleb doesn’t respond. his fingers brush your shoulder as you shift to make space for him. you hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been gripping the handle of your purse until you let go and see the deep creases in the leather.

he sat beside you, hand resting loosely near yours on the tablecloth. “you look tired,” he murmured, gaze still fixed somewhere far away. “did they bore you that much already?”

“glad you decided to show up,” you said softly,  your voice steady despite the sudden rush of emotions crashing through you. caleb’s expression remained unreadable, “wouldn’t miss it.”

rafayel shifted slightly on the other side of the table, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his wine glass. “fashionably late, as always. nice of you to finally join us, mr. xia,” he drawled, voice smooth and mock-friendly. “we were starting to wonder if you'd be late for your own apology tour. you missed the speeches—but then again, you’re not exactly a crowd-pleaser tonight.”

caleb’s smile was slight. half-assed. “don't look so tense now, rafa,” he drawled, coating the name in mockery. his tone was deliberately soft, the kind that condescended by pretending not to be. “i’m here now. that’s what really matters, right?”

rafayel smiled. the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “of course,” he said brightly, but his grip on the glass in his hand tightened just enough for the knuckles to pale. “wouldn’t want the star of the circus to miss the show.”

the air between the two now feels like an electrical circuit just waiting for a break. you sighed quietly and force your gaze back to the champagne flute in front of you.

this night is far from over.

the night didn’t pause for any of you.

a silent auction was in full swing on the mezzanine, led by an alpine representative with unnervingly white teeth and a voice smooth enough to convince billionaires they were saving the world. paddock-used helmets, signed team memorabilia, exclusive hospitality weekends—your name had already begun to circulate alongside a few bid cards, even though you hadn’t so much as touched a pen.

an auctioneer took the stage as he introduced the first of several lots: a signed helmet from verstappen drew an immediate bid, the paddock pass beside it fetching a surprising sum from an anonymous benefactor. a round of applause followed the announcement of a record-breaking bid—a one-on-one karting session with an F1 driver, the winner getting to choose from a curated lineup. you weren’t surprised when someone offered an obscene sum for rafayel, nor when a red bull sponsor claimed caleb with a smirk and a wink at their marketing team.

an hour slipped by like that: presentations, speeches, toasts delivered in a dozen languages spanning every continent. you found yourself lingering near a side table while an older aston martin sponsor recounted tales of monaco hospitality passes. you nodded at the right moments, smiled when expected, but your focus had already started to shrink. one part of you listened to the story, but the rest was busy plotting your escape, searching for any opening to slip away unnoticed.

finally, when the conversation lulled for a moment, you saw your chance and slipped away from the glittering crowd, gradually fading into a distant murmur as you made your way toward the balcony door. with a gentle push, the heavy glass swung open, and then closed behind you with a muted, final click. you exhaled sharply, shoulders sinking as the night air rushed to greet you, crisp and bracing against your overheated skin.

you leaned your weight against the balcony railing, the cold, rusted iron biting sharply into the skin of your forearms, grounding you in the quiet night. one steadying breath. then another, deeper this time, as the sharp edge of tension began to dull. your heartbeat slowed, but your hands moved before your mind fully registered the motion—the clutch in your hand gave a faint, familiar creak as you carefully unzipped it, fingers gliding over the smooth surfaces of your compact, the finish of your lipstick. and then, tucked deep within the lining like a hidden treasure, your fingers closed around the soft crinkle of a cigarette pack.

you tapped the cigarette gently against the iron railing, the muted clink echoing softly each time it struck the cold metal. one, two, three. then, with a steadying breath, you brought it to your lips. the filter felt cold and foreign against your mouth. you flicked the wheel once, no flame.

you tried again. the flame sputtered—then vanished, swallowed whole by the wind. “goddamn it,” you muttered, your voice tightening, pitched low and fraying at the edges. “jus’ fucking—light.” another flick. harder. louder. the click of the wheel cracked through the night like a slap, but still, no fire.

“stupid piece of shit,” you snapped, the words spilling out hot and helpless before you could catch them. then you stopped yourself, jaw locking, and let out a dry, humorless scoff. you stared down at the lighter in your hand like it had betrayed you personally. your shoulders sagged. of course it wouldn’t work. why would anything tonight go the way you needed it to?

the wind caught your hair and dragged it across your face as if laughing at your failed moment of defiance. you let the lighter fall to the railing with a muted clack, the cigarette still clinging to your lips. no fire. no warmth. no relief. instead, you stared down at the unlit cigarette, lips tight around it, as if the sheer force of your exhaustion might ignite the thing.

behind you, footsteps slowed, then stopped.

“thought i might find you out here,” a voice said. you didn’t answer right away. just let out a quiet sigh, before turning your head just enough to catch a glimpse of rafayel approaching. he didn’t speak again. instead, he reached into his coat pocket and wordlessly offered you his lighter—you leaned in toward his hand, your cigarette still waiting between your lips, and with a flick, he lit it for you.

“you didn’t strike me as a lady smoker,” rafayel said, voice low, more curious than judging. the light from the gala spilled onto the balcony in golden ribbons, catching just enough of his profile to make it striking: dark lashes casting shadows under his eyes, a sharp line to his jaw, mouth set in that familiar unreadable tilt.

you took a slow drag, then exhaled, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air between you. “lady smoker?” you echoed, a wry twist tugging at your lips. “what are you, eighty?”

rafayel leaned in, bracing his forearms on the railing beside yours. “so,” he said, “is this where we talk about the elephant in the race suit?”

your eyes stayed fixed on the glittering sprawl below, cigarette burning quietly between your fingers. “if by elephant you mean the guy who almost t-boned you at two hundred out of pure spite, sure. let’s talk about him.”

he gave a low, amused chuckle. “y’know, i’ve been wrecked before. worse tracks. worse weather. once even during a sandstorm in qatar. but never because someone saw me standing next to their girl.” he let that sit for a beat, then added, “and definitely never because she was wearing my colors like a flag.” you turned to him at that, shooting him a sharp glare, but he didn’t flinch. “you wore it just to start something, didn’t you?”

“obviously not—” the words came out too fast, too defensive, and you knew it the second they left your mouth. he cut you off, the corner of his mouth lifting into that crooked, effortless grin. “besides,” he said, voice dipping into something warm and insufferably self-assured, “you looked fantastic in it.”

you rolled your eyes, dragging from your cigarette again, the smoke sliding past your lips. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, eyes narrowed just enough to make your point.

“and yet,” he replied, fingers drumming lightly on the balcony railing, “you’re still here. still out here, with me.” you shrugged, eyes flickering away for just a moment. 

“maybe i just needed the cigarette.”

“maybe,” he said, watching you through those half-lowered lashes, “or maybe you needed space from him.” the weight of that landed quieter than his last joke.

“...if you’re here to start something, don’t.”

but rafayel didn’t rise to it. when he spoke, his voice came stripped of its usual swagger, different from the usual sharp wit or careless confidence. “i’m not,” there was an honest weight to it now, quieter, more vulnerable. “i’m here because i don’t get it.”

you turned toward him fully now, arms still folded, “get what?”

“that you’re still with him,” rafayel said quietly, like the words physically hurt coming out. for a moment, neither of you moved. you stared at him, trying to understand what you were hearing, what he was really saying.

“what the fuck are you—”

“no.” he stepped in closer, closing the space just enough to make the air between you feel thinner. his voice stayed low, but the edge in it had sharpened. “you think that crash was about the race?” his eyes searched yours, “he nearly killed us both over a fucking laugh.”

“i didn’t mean for it to get that far—”

“i know you didn’t.” he cut you off. rafayel reached forward, two fingers slid along your jaw, feather-light, just enough to tilt your chin. he slipped the cigarette from your lips into his with ease. he inhaled once, before letting the smoke curl lazily from the corner of his lips, where something that could’ve been a smile tried and failed to settle.

as rafayel’s words slid from his lips, something twisted low in your chest, a strange, bitter churn. how can you just stand there? part of you demanded, furious. how can you let him tear caleb down like this?

caleb wasn’t perfect—hell, no one knew that better than you—but hearing those accusations tossed out so casually, felt like a betrayal. you wanted to speak up, to defend him, to shut rafayel down before his words cut any deeper. but the air between you was thick, and the weight of silence held your voice hostage. but another part of you knows these aren’t just lies thrown to provoke. 

maybe he’s right.

“and i have to ask,” he said, eyes flickering down to your lips before snapping back up. his hand lifted and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “how long until he pulls something worse—”

“i’d be careful what you suggest.”

caleb stepped out from the gloom of the corridor like he’d always been there—leaning against the marble, arms crossed. his eyes didn’t glance toward rafayel. instead, they locked onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

behind you, rafayel shifted slightly, and you felt the faint pull of a smirk before you even heard his voice. “well, look who finally decided to join us,” he drawled, low and slow, almost amused. “you were lurking so long in the dark, i thought you might’ve gotten shy.” he turned his head slightly, eyes catching caleb through the dim hallway light—“didn’t peg you as an eavesdropper, RB.”

caleb didn’t rise to it. he pushed off the wall with quiet, deliberate movement, stepping into the light just enough that you could see the tired set of his shoulders. his voice came steady, even. “couldn’t find her back inside. figured she’d be here.”

rafayel let out a soft, unhurried laugh. “of course. you only go where she is. should’ve known, blah blah.” he spat the dying cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his shoe, glancing between the two of you. “must be a lot—keeping tabs that close.”

still, caleb didn’t respond. his attention was entirely on you. not suspicious. not possessive. just quiet observation of the way you stood. the way your dress clung slightly from the wind outside. the way his watch still circled your wrist. your dress, the way your arms were folded—his brows knit the faintest degree. 

you didn’t look away from him when you spoke. “i wasn’t planning on staying long.”

“i know,” he said quietly.

rafayel arched a brow, then moved with the casual grace he always wore like a second skin. he stepped to your side, not too close, but just close enough to make caleb’s stillness feel heavier. “shame,” he said lightly. “i was just about to suggest getting out of here. somewhere quieter.”

you glanced at him, but caleb beat you to a reply. “convenient.”

“isn’t it?” rafayel replied, all lightness. “you both could come. or is that against policy? do you two have a no-third-party clause?”

now caleb’s eyes finally lifted to him, steady and unimpressed. “whatever this is, i’m not interested in playing along.”

rafayel tilted his head slightly, a hint of mock curiosity in his expression. “who said it’s a game, caleb?”

caleb’s eyes didn’t move. “that’s cute. you think i believe you came over just to talk?”

“no,” rafayel admitted, tone dropping a notch. “but i think it’s honest. and honestly?” he shrugged one shoulder. “do you think that any of this,” he gestured subtly to the doors leading to the glittering ballroom inside, “is for people like us?”

then, without asking, he stepped closer and stopped beside caleb—his elbow hooked lightly over caleb’s shoulder, a gesture so relaxed it bordered on provoking. “the fireworks are done. everyone’s playing polite now,” he murmured, “tell me—do either of you actually want to be here anymore?”

caleb exhaled through his nose, a laugh in miniature. “not for the past hour.”

rafayel’s lips quirked, smug in that casual, unreadable way of his. “didn’t think so.” then his gaze found yours, eyes darker now under the warm chandelier light. “i’ve got a car waiting out back. my place is not far from here. view’s better, music’s ours, and no one trying to pitch a sponsorship deal.”

you blinked. “you’re inviting us?”

he shrugged, lazy in posture but not in intent. “just seems like neither of you are quite finished with the night. and wasting this kind of energy on cheap champagne feels like a crime.” then, leaning in just enough that his voice edged quieter.

“besides… we haven’t had any real fun yet.”

the car ride had been brief but silent. rafayel hadn’t spoken much after giving the driver the address. his penthouse tower rose like a shard of obsidian in the skyline, a private residence cloaked in the kind of discretion only the absurdly wealthy could afford. the foyer alone gleamed with high-polished marble under your heels, the kind that reflected everything back in silver-gold. art pieces were spotlighted in alcoves, each one likely worth more than the entire garage level below. and beyond the entry: floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the corner of the unit, giving a panoramic view of the city glittering below like a bed of stars.

rafayel peeled off his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the edge of a cream leather settee that looked like it had never been sat on. “shoes off,” he said simply, already tugging off his own. “the flooring is hand-laid brazilian rosewood. a few hundred k for the finish. let’s not disrespect it.”

caleb’s eyes scanned the room with slow, impassive interest. he toed off his shoes without comment, but you caught the subtle tension in his jaw—something about being invited into a rival’s sanctum, into his space. still, he didn’t resist.

rafayel returned moments later with three cut crystal tumblers and a bottle of something aged, dark, and definitely not off-the-shelf. “i don’t bring many people here,” he said, handing you a glass. “not that i’m private. i just can’t stand most of 'em.”

you wandered forward slowly, drawn toward the windows. up here, it was like watching the world from olympus. the drink in your hand was a slow-burning comfort. or maybe a distraction. the warmth it offered curled low in your stomach, but it didn’t settle the buzz beneath your skin. behind you, caleb hadn’t moved far. he stood angled toward the glass, shoulder leaning just slightly.

rafayel, meanwhile, lounged like a man with nothing to prove. one arm slung lazily across the back of the couch, fingers idly circling the rim of his glass. his shirt hung open at the collar, just enough to reveal a glimpse of skin, the slow rise and fall of his breath beneath the dim lighting.

“why’d you come?” caleb asked suddenly.

rafayel’s mouth curved faintly. “wanted to see how you’d look,” he said, tilting his head a fraction, “after pulling a stunt that actually cost you, for once.”

“and?” caleb asked. his tone tightened, just barely, like a thread pulled taut beneath a calm surface.

rafayel didn’t reply right away. instead, he rose slowly from the couch, glass still in hand, walking toward the windows where the city shimmered like a held breath. rafayel’s gaze flicked over him, “you’re wearing it well,” he said finally, “still playing god, just limping a ‘lil now, aren’t you?”

he stared at the shape of your reflection in the glass when he said it—like the words weren’t meant to be spoken directly, like looking at you any closer might’ve made them come out differently. and the warmth in your chest twisted. caleb turned slightly, catching the edge of your profile as if the nearness of you had only just registered. 

you shifted under the weight of it—of both of them—and sank onto the couch, setting your empty glass on the side table with a little too much force. “do you two always talk like this?” you asked, not quite sarcastic, but close enough to deflect.

rafayel’s lips tugged into a half-smile. “like what?”

“like you’re trying to undress each other.”

that pulled a scoff from caleb, “he wouldn’t know what to do if i did.”

you couldn’t quite pinpoint when the atmosphere shifted. maybe it was the drink. maybe it was the way rafayel began moving closer, slower—or how caleb subtly repositioned himself, standing just behind you.

rafayel stopped near the far edge of the room, one shoulder leaning into the glass, his gaze turned out toward the city, though you could feel the sharp edge of it still angled toward you. “you know,” he said, voice low, thoughtful, “this place was always too quiet. feels different now.”

“you mean with us here?” you asked. rafayel’s eyes flicked to you, then to caleb, and back. a lazy smirk pulled at his mouth. “don’t flatter yourselves. i meant the noise.”

caleb shifted, the whisper of fabric as he leaned forward just slightly. his voice came just beside your ear, “he always talks like this when he wants something.”

rafayel chuckled under his breath, stepping forward. he stopped a few feet away, gaze cutting sharp between you and caleb. “look at you,” rafayel murmured, eyes dragging down the line of your figure before flicking toward caleb, “always hovering behind her like you’re afraid someone might take a bite. what are ya, a guard dog?”

rafayel tilted his head, eyes glittering. “why’d you come here, red bull? if you’re not planning to play nice, you’re standing in the wrong penthouse.”

you weren’t sure who moved first—whether it was rafayel stepping closer or caleb pressing in a fraction more behind you—but suddenly you were caught in the narrow space between them. your breath hitched, and rafayel’s gaze dropped to your lips.

“we don’t have to pretend,” he murmured. “we’ve all been circling this for a while now.”

your heart pounded, loud in your ears. you should’ve stepped back. should’ve said something to cut the tension. but instead, your body stayed rooted—caught in the gravity between the two of them.

“you came here because you knew i wanted her, too.”

that broke something. a flicker of something darker passed through caleb’s face before he stepped forward into rafayel’s space. their chests didn’t touch. only because rafayel didn’t flinch. didn’t budge. he stood like he always did—casual, cocky—but beneath the surface, you saw the tension riding his spine like a live current.

“she’s not a prize—,”

“she’s not,” rafayel echoed, quieter now, but no less intense. his eyes flicked to you and then back to caleb. “but if you’re going to treat her like one, don’t expect me to pretend i wouldn’t kneel, too.”

caleb didn’t flinch. but something in his jaw locked, and the breath he drew came slow through his nose. the tension coiled through his frame like a bowstring drawn too tight, and for a heartbeat, it seemed he might snap.

but rafayel beat him to it. without warning, he shoved caleb hard.

caleb staggered, caught off guard, the sudden contact knocking him back a step—then another. the backs of his knees struck the couch, and he dropped into it hard, hands splaying across the cushions to catch himself.

“then show me,” rafayel said, “show me what all that restraint gets you.”

you stood frozen, watching as caleb stared up at rafayel, eyes narrowed. and then slowly, deliberately, he sank back into the cushions, never looking away. 

then rafayel turned to you fully. gone was the easy grin, the arrogance still lingered—yet his smile curved. “well?” he asked, holding out a hand. “you coming, or should we start without you?

beside you, caleb didn’t speak. but when you glanced back—just enough to catch the edge of him—he wasn’t bristling. wasn’t fighting it. his jaw was tight, yes, but it wasn’t defiance that held it tense, but one of restrained agreement.

then rafayel moved again—his hand slipped into the inside of his coat and came back with a small camcorder, like it had been sitting there all night, waiting for its cue. with a practiced flick, he popped the screen open. it whirred softly to life, the faint mechanical buzz almost too quiet to catch over the hum of the city beyond the windows.

“snagged it off some himbo journalist back at the gala,” he said, voice light, almost bored, like this was nothing more than a party trick. “guy wasn’t even watching his gear.”

he gave the camera a lazy shake, lips curling. “it’ll be our little secret.” rafayel’s thumb ghosted over the zoom toggle, though he didn’t press it.

“you don’t have to say yes,” he said, voice low now. quiet enough to be intimate. “but if you do—,” the camcorder lifted, angled just enough to center your face in the frame. then his other hand rose, and his thumb traced the edge of your bottom lip— “you better mean it.”

your hand moved before thought could catch it, fingers curling around rafayel’s. without a word, he sat back onto the couch like he’d been waiting for the invitation all night. his legs parted in silence. the leather beneath him sighed with the shift of his weight, and with an almost lazy flick of his wrist, rafayel tossed the camcorder through the air like it weighed nothing. caleb caught it without so much as a glance, his eyes never leaving you, his expression unchanged.

rafayel’s voice came a beat later, “make yourself useful, red bull. unless you’d rather be in the frame.”

caleb didn’t respond. didn’t so much as twitch. instead, he just looked down at the camcorder, adjusting it in his grip. then slowly, he lifted it. brought it to eye level, and aimed it squarely at you.

rafayel’s hand slid from yours to your waist, and with the ease of someone who already knew the shape of your body without touching it, he guided you forward—up and over—until your knees settled on either side of his hips. your dress hitched higher with the movement, the fabric bunching around your thighs. his hands were still loose at your waist, but his gaze had grown heavy. like he was holding something back not because he wanted to, but because you hadn’t told him he could let go.

beside you, caleb’s silence was the kind that made your breath hitch, made your hands clench faintly in the fabric of rafayel’s shirt. he hadn’t expected you to move first. hadn’t expected the sight of you in someone else’s lap—his rival’s lap—to cut as deep as it did.

“you just gonna sit there all night?” rafayel drawled, his voice smooth, almost lazy. he let the words hang for a beat, then tilted his head just enough to provoke, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “what’s the matter? don’t tell me you’re plannin’ on chickening out.”

“watch your mouth,” caleb said finally, laced with heat that simmered just under the surface. “keep talkin’ like that, i might forget we’re not on track anymore.”

rafayel breathed a low chuckle, unbothered, lips brushing against your temple. “funny. you don’t look like you’re remembering, either.”

caleb drew in a breath, like he needed the oxygen to keep from losing the last tether of reason. and then—he stood and stepped closer.

the couch dipped ever so slightly under the weight of his knee, pressing into the cushion space between rafayel’s legs. caleb’s vacant hand found the curve of your spine next. featherlight. just the pads of his fingers trailing down from the nape of your neck to the small of your back.

his hand flattened against your lower back, keeping you steady against rafayel’s lap—close enough to feel how tightly wound he’d gone beneath you. heat licked up your spine like flame to oil—it was all too much and not enough at once. “careful,” he murmured, gaze still fixed on caleb. “you keep pressing in like that, i might start to wonder if you’re the one trying to straddle me.”

rafayel’s hands found your waist, steadying. he didn’t drag you closer. didn’t push. just looked up at you like he was memorizing your face in this precise moment—your flushed cheeks, parted lips, the uncertainty you wore like a second skin.

you leaned in first.

your mouth brushed his, he barest touch, just enough to feel the heat of him. and when he didn’t move, you pressed closer, your lips catching his fully this time. the glass he’d been holding was long forgotten on the table behind you, his hands now fully occupied: one braced at your hip, the other sliding up the length of your spine with aching slowness. rafayel kissed like he had time. like he wanted you to feel the want in every single second of it.

you felt caleb behind you, but when you broke the kiss and turned toward him, you didn’t have to ask. his hand came to your jaw, guiding your face to his like he couldn’t help it anymore. his lips met yours in a kiss nothing like rafayel’s—his mouth was warm, desperate without being rough, like he’d been holding back too long.

“fuck,” rafayel whispered again, this time against your collarbone, his mouth brushing skin but never staying long enough to satisfy. “do you even know what you’re doing to us?”

you shifted your hips, purposefully grinding down against the growing bulge in rafayel’s trousers—and the low sound he made, deep in his throat, sparked something primal between all three of you. 

“a-ah—fuck,” rafayel choked, hands tightening on your hips. “god, you—f’wahh…”

you leaned into caleb’s touch as he dragged his fingers along your waist, grazing the swell of your breast through the thin fabric. his breath stuttered near your ear when you arched just slightly into it.

beneath you, rafayel tipped his head back—offered it like a sacrifice. his throat, flushed and exposed in the low light, pulsed beneath the drag of his breath. his lips parted, his gaze heavy and dark, stuck on you like he didn’t know how to look away. “take what you want,” he added, roughened, eyes half-lidded but watching.

rafayel’s head dropped forward, forehead pressing to your chest, breath hot against your skin. “mmh’ah…,”his voice came low, like it was scraped from his throat. “fuck—tell me what you want,” he muttered, voice fraying at the edges. “anything, baby, i’ll give it to you. just say the word.”

caleb’s hand drifted lower, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress again, the pads of his fingers grazing the heat between your thighs like he knew exactly what it would do.

“c’mon, baby,” rafayel said again, voice rough as gravel, lips brushing the base of your throat now. “tell me what you want me to do.”

“what do i want?” you echoed lazily, hips shifting just enough to make him moan again, soft and wrecked. “i haven’t decided yet.”

rafayel groaned, a sound so guttural it felt stolen from his chest. his hips jerked beneath you, involuntary. “fuck, make up your mind,” he gasped, half-laughing through clenched teeth. “if you don’t, then i will.”

you leaned your head, just barely, lips brushing his in a slow, teasing kiss that left him chasing the contact even as you pulled away. your hips shifted with slow precision, and the sound he made in return, that wrecked, aching moan, was all the answer you needed.

behind you, caleb’s breath fanned hot against your bare shoulder. his hands hovered near the hem of your dress, tense with anticipation, twitching like he didn’t know where to start.

“caleb...,” you whispered, turning just enough to brush your mouth against his in a soft, teasing kiss. “take ‘em off for me?”

slowly, one hand slid beneath the fabric, fingertips skimming up the inside of your thigh—but then he changed course, lifting instead. the hem of your dress inched higher under his touch, rising over your hips, your waist, the curve of your ribs. his palms followed, dragging heat along your skin as the material peeled away.

when the fabric cleared your hips, the first hint of lace peeked through—black, delicate, tied at the sides in neat little bows. his breath caught, but he didn’t stop. the dress kept rising, and you let him lift it all the way, arms raised, baring more and more of the lingerie until it sat fully exposed beneath the low light. the halter unknotted with one simple tug, slipping off your body before caleb tossed it aside blindly, too focused to care where it landed.

his hand dropped, slid down your side again, this time with more urgency. his fingers found the ribbon on one side and tugged. the lace slackened, still clinging only by the bow on the other hip.

you raised your hips a little more as caleb tugged the other bow down until it fluttered loose against your thighs. rafayel’s fingers were there instantly, catching the lace as his breath shook against your stomach.

“fuckin' hell,” he whispered again, lips brushing against the curve of your bare hip like he was praying with his mouth. “aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

his laugh came low and cracked, breath hitching as he slid down the couch, dragging you with him—until your knees framed his shoulders and your bare cunt hovered just inches from his face. his hands gripped your hips tight, thumbs pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself.

“finally,” he muttered, voice all gravel and heat. “about fucking time.”

then his mouth was on you. he moaned the second his tongue met your cunt, loud and obscene, like the taste of you broke something in him. the sound vibrated through you, deep and wrecking, and you gasped, hand flying to his hair, curling tight in his curls on instinct.

then his mouth was on you. he moaned the second his tongue met your cunt, loud and obscene, like the taste of you broke something in him. the sound vibrated through you, deep and wrecking, and you gasped, hand flying to his hair, curling tight in his curls on instinct.

“a-ah fuck!—raf, y-you—” your voice cracked, hips twitching. “oh god—”

he buried his face deeper, tongue lapping through your folds like he had all the time in the world and no intention of mercy. his nose bumped your clit, his breath hot and ragged as he sucked, kissed, fucked you with his mouth like he needed you to fall apart on his tongue. he dragged his tongue through your folds, sucked hard at your clit, mouth working like he had no intention of coming up for air.

“fuck, baby,” rafayel groaned, voice muffled against your cunt as his tongue dragged slow, greedy strokes through your folds. his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread wide above him, keeping you where he wanted you—right on his mouth, trembling and wet and grinding down like you couldn’t help yourself.

you gasped, head tipping back as rafayel’s tongue circled your clit again with slow, reverent precision like he wanted to worship every part of you while caleb watched. he knew. he liked being watched. it made him bolder, sloppier. his tongue licked deeper, and you cried out, one hand fisting in his curls, the other clutching the couch for balance.

your body jerked—hips stuttering against his face. he moaned in response, hands flexing on your thighs like he wanted to leave marks there. he tilted his head just right and gave a rough, dragging suck that made your vision blur.

“fuckfuckfuuuuck—mngh ’fayel—!” you gasped, heat curling in your belly.

caleb was already palming himself through his pants, still filming. he adjusted the focus again, angling the camcorder down between your thighs, capturing every slick movement of rafayel’s mouth, every twitch of your hips.

“look at her,” caleb muttered, mostly to himself—but still loud enough for both of you to hear. “fucking dripping. she loves the camera. loves putting on a show, don’t you, baby?”

your breath caught—eyes shut, chest heaving. rafayel looked up at you from between your thighs, lips swollen, pupils blown, smiling—and then went back in with a slow, punishing lick, drawing a strangled moan from your throat as your hips bucked again.

“mm-hmm.” caleb’s voice was rough silk, lazy and warm and just a little taunting. “you look real pretty like this, ray.” the camcorder gave a soft click as caleb adjusted the zoom.

you leaned back, spine arching, then slowly straightened—your body a silhouette of composure against the chaos of rafayel’s mouth. you reached on the couch beside rafayel’s head, fingers dipping into the crumpled fabric of rafayel’s discarded coat, which lay tangled on the couch. your hand found what you were looking for instantly—his lighter.

the soft flick of the lighter split the air, and rafayel shuddered.

caleb’s breath caught behind you. “fuck,” he whispered, “you’re unreal.”

you brought the cigarette to your lips, lit it with a slow, practiced flick, and took the first inhale—deep and steady. smoke curled from your mouth as your hips rolled forward into rafayel’s face, and the contrast—you, shaking but still so poised, him, messy and desperate—was obscene.

“such a good mouth,” you whispered. “maybe i’ll let you keep it.”

rafayel groaned like you’d touched him—like the words alone had gone straight to his cock. his tongue moved in tighter circles, slower now, hungrier somehow, savoring the slick weight of your cunt against his mouth. he licked like he was trying to etch the shape of you into memory. each moan he pulled from you was soft, controlled, until your thighs began to twitch, your breath grew uneven, and your hips started to rock into him.

“fuck yes,” you breathed, the words splintering as they left your mouth, soft and sharp at once. your voice broke around the edges, every bit of composure unspooling as your thighs tightened like a vice around his head. “‘m gonna cum—don’t stop, don’t—”

rafayel wasn’t stopping. he couldn’t. not when you were starting to fall apart above him. not when you were trembling like that, cigarette still clutched between your fingers, smoke still curling lazy through the air like you had all the time in the world—even as your hips started to roll harder, rougher, dragging wet sounds from between your legs every time your cunt met his mouth.

your eyes met the lens, and you smiled stupidly, smoke slipping from your lips like an invitation. then you rolled your hips again—deeper this time, rougher—drawing a choked moan from rafayel so loud it bordered on obscene.

a show, after all, deserved a proper climax.

you came with a soft cry, body shaking, hips grinding down against rafayel’s mouth as he kept licking through it, obedient, like your pleasure was the only thing keeping him breathing. your breath slowed, hips still twitching slightly from aftershocks. 

rafayel had gone quiet, except for the soft, broken sounds slipping from his mouth as he rested there—his cheek against your inner thigh, lips parted, the heat of your climax still on his tongue.

your fingers dragged lazily through his curls as you leaned back, your head tilting backwards to look at the man behind you.

caleb was still watching, the camcorder slack in his hand now, forgotten in his lap.

“c’mere,” you said. caleb didn’t move for a second. just breathed. hard. then he rose, slow and careful, as if the space between you were something sacred. when he reached you, he didn’t speak—his eyes said enough.

you took one last inhale from the cigarette—then, as the smoke sat heavy in your mouth, you leaned in and kissed him.

a gasp broke from caleb’s throat, stuttered and ruined, as your lips parted against his and you exhaled the smoke directly into his mouth. he groaned into the kiss, one hand fisting tight at your hip, the other twitching against your thigh like he wanted to do something but couldn’t, wouldn’t, not yet.

rafayel whimpered softly below you, shifting just enough that his nose brushed your inner thigh again. he was still hard, still untouched, still desperately aching.

you pulled from the kiss with a sigh, smoke still clinging to your breath. caleb stayed close, lips parted, eyes glazed—staring like he was half-drunk on the taste of you.

“you’ve been so good,” you tilted your head, reaching out to run your fingers through rafayel’s hair, combing it back with practiced ease. then your fingers dipped lower, slow, brushing his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the faint smear of you still wet on his skin.

“want a taste?” you asked.

rafayel’s tongue darted out to catch your fingertip as it passed his lip. he leaned in, eyes locked on yours, and bit down soft on the pad of your finger, teeth dragging just enough to send a pulse down your spine.

he let go with a soft pop, eyes never leaving yours. you guided the cigarette toward his lips next, the ember still alive, the smoke winding like silk between your bodies.

“just one,” you murmured, holding it steady between two fingers. “a reward.”

rafayel opened his mouth without hesitation, lips wrapping around the filter like he was kissing you through it. you watched, gaze flicking down, as he took a slow, deep drag—his cheeks hollowing, breath pulling thick and heavy through the paper.

you took the cigarette back, fingers brushing his lower lip, and let the smoke linger between you both before you spoke again. “open your mouth, baby.”

he did so with no hesitation, tongue falling out slowly, mouth open like he was ready for another taste of you—anything you gave him.

you brought the cigarette back to your lips, took a long, slow drag. his eyes flicked down, watching the hollow of your throat move as you inhaled, the tip of the cig glowing bright red. you held the smoke in your lungs, and him in your gaze.

then, without a word, you pressed the burning tip onto his tongue.

rafayel gasped—a jagged, choked-off moan ripped from his throat as the ember hissed, extinguishing in a soft sizzle against his flesh. rafayel moaned again—louder this time, shameless, hips jolting up as if the pain punched straight through his spine and into his cock. and fuck, he was hard. so hard. already straining in his jeans. his tongue barely trembled, the faint burn blooming red across it, but he held it there.

“h-hurts,” he rasped, voice cracking. “fuck, it hurts—feels so good, plea’aghh…”

you let the spent cigarette fall from your fingers, watched ash scatter near his thigh, right by the obscene bulge between his legs. he twitched, hips rolling forward like he was trying to fuck the air. his hands fisted the floor on either side of him, nails digging into the floor, but his eyes—his fucking eyes—never looked away from yours.

and then he smiled. that sick, blissed-out grin—eyes glassy, lips slick, tongue still trembling where the ember had kissed it. blood bloomed faintly, welling up slow from the seared flesh. “you still hard down there, rafa?” caleb asked, voice hoarse, the mockery curling around his words as he stepped in closer, camera steady in one hand, the other reaching past you to hook two fingers into rafayel’s mouth—tugging slow at his burned, swollen tongue, stretching it out for the lens.

“so what are you gonna do next, ray?” caleb asked, voice low, curling with cruel amusement as he circled in closer, the camera still focused on rafayel’s spit-slick, blood-bright lips. “you gonna beg her to keep going,” he drawled, tilting his head as if genuinely curious—,

“...or do you want me to take over now?”

the sheets were already ruined—creased, damp, tangled from how you'd been pulled across them again and again. rich egyptian cotton twisted low around your waist, doing nothing to cover the slick between your thighs or the raw flush climbing your chest. caleb’s shirt was discarded on the floor, half-soaked in sweat and spit, the only article of clothing anyone had bothered with earlier. rafayel’s belt still dangled from the edge of the bedframe. 

the room itself was soaked in heat, the air was thick with sweat and sex, and the faint burn of expensive cologne clung to your skin where both men had touched, kissed, tasted. the camera stood steady on the bedside dresser, red light blinking as rafayel knelt behind you and caleb rose from between your legs, both naked, both hard, both looking at you like you were the altar they built this night around.

you were already trembling—naked, breathless, stretched out between them like something sacred. “a-ah—mmnh,” you whimpered when rafayel pressed his body to your back, cock heavy and hot against your spine as he rolled his hips in slow, mocking thrusts. his fingers tilted your chin, angling your mouth up to his as he kissed you deep, tasting you like he owned every noise spilling out of your throat.

caleb moved lower, tongue sliding over your clit with obscene focus. one hand gripped the back of your thigh to keep it open, the other tightening its grip on your waist, holding you down as he licked you with slow, punishing strokes. his moan rumbled against your cunt when you bucked, and he didn’t pull back.

rafayel leaned in, mouth brushing the edge of your ear as his grip locked tight around your middle. “what’s wrong?” he murmured, “thought this was what you wanted.”

you choked on a gasp, head falling back onto rafayel’s shoulder. he caught you with a grin, one arm wrapped tight around your waist as caleb licked you again, slower this time.

he didn’t let you escape. his hand slid down your front, fingers ghosting over your throat, your breasts—down until they joined caleb’s mouth between your legs, just enough to spread your folds wider for him. you were dripping, thighs slick, pussy swollen from attention, and still they were patient.

caleb sucked harder, tongue locking around your clit with brutal precision. your whole body snapped tight—back arching, legs shaking—as your orgasm slammed into you without mercy. it ripped a cry from your throat, raw and wrecked, loud enough to make both of them pause, just to feel it.

rafayel’s arm stayed locked around your waist, holding you still as you thrashed, trembling through it. caleb didn’t move, didn’t let up—he just kept licking, slow and deep, tongue fucking you through the aftershocks while your cunt pulsed around nothing.

“fuck—look at that,” caleb groaned, voice gone to hell, chin slick with you. “so fuckin’ pretty when you’re all over my mouth.”

he pulled back just enough to drag his thumb through the mess between your legs, then pressed it flat against your clit, watching you twitch.

“but we’re not done with you just yet.”

slowly, rafayel slipped off the bed in a smooth, silent movement. you thought maybe he'd finally take you then—finally press you into the mattress and fuck you until your legs gave out—but instead, he crossed the room with unhurried steps, the lean lines of his naked body bathed in that same golden light. 

his hand reached for the camera on the dresser. checked the screen, then looked at you through the lens like he was lining up the most intimate shot of your ruin. you could feel the lens tracking the glisten between your thighs, the slack of your mouth, the red ghost of caleb’s handprint on your hip.

rafayel didn’t come back to the bed right away. instead, he stood by the drawer, and pulled out a thick black candle, half-melted with hardened drips crusted along the sides, and your breath caught. you hadn’t even seen him light it, but now the room filled with the faint scent of smoke and heat.

“don’t move,” rafayel said low, and before you could even ask, his fingers tangled in your hair—and he tugged, lifting your head just slightly as he moved, positioning himself above you, knees bracketing your shoulders.

you didn’t even get a full breath in before the first splash of hot wax landed just beneath your ribs.

“ah—ahfuck! what the hell are you—” your cry came out broken, high-pitched, hips jerking in reflex.

another splash of wax hit lower—just above your hipbone this time, and the heat sent your breath stuttering out in a half-sob, half-moan. you squirmed, thighs tensing, but caleb’s weight kept you pinned, wrist draped heavy across your stomach.

“that’s one,” he said, voice low, eyes never leaving your face. “you move again, we start over.”

“ngh—rafayel, i-i can’t—!” you gasped, chest rising in a frantic stutter. another moan cracked out of you, softer, wrecked. “s’t–too hot—!”

he leaned in close, voice calm, low. “you’ll live.”

caleb’s mouth curved into a grin, “you hear that, baby? he’s feeling generous tonight.”

you tried—tried so hard—to stay still, muscles taut with effort, thighs trembling. drip. another line of wax slid hot and slow down your stomach, closer to your navel. caleb pulled back with a low click of his tongue.

“two.” his voice was rougher now, “thought you wanted to be good for us.”

the wax dripped again—this time over your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaked cunt. caleb leaned in, mouth dragging across your skin, catching the wax before it cooled. his teeth grazed over where it had hardened, peeling it from you with excruciating patience before spitting it aside.

then came another. higher—between your breasts, sliding toward your belly in a molten trail that stopped short as it cooled. rafayel followed it with the camera, recording each twitch, each glint of heat on your skin. the red light blinked, catching every arch, every gasp, every tremble.

“three,” caleb muttered, voice low and rough, his grip tightening just enough to keep your head tilted. “this how you behave when you’re gettin’ exactly what you wanted?”

“p-please—” your voice cracked, hoarse and desperate, hips jerking without control. “c-can’t, it’s too much—”

“too much?” rafayel echoed, all false concern, voice smooth as silk as he angled the camera across from him to capture the tremble in your thighs. “doesn’t look like it from down there. your cunt’s fuckin’ dripping.”

“caleb—f-fuck, ray—please,” you sobbed, tossing your head back into the bed, body twisting helplessly. “please let me cum—i’ll be good, i’ll be so good, i promise—!”

he didn’t answer. his thumb pressed cruelly into your clit, circling with slow, grinding pressure while his fingers fucked deep, dragging over the spot that made your legs spasm and your moans break into ragged little gasps.

“last warning,” rafayel said, holding the candle directly over your inner thigh again. “if you cum before it hits, we start over.”

your whole body trembled. your hands scrabbled helplessly at the sheets, at caleb’s wrist, at your own skin—anything to ground you while the orgasm clawed its way higher, tight and brutal and begging for release.

and then—

the wax spilled. slow. thick. scalding.

a thick, molten stream, landing just beside your folds, nearly touching your cunt—and the moment it did, you shattered.

you came with a broken cry, body seizing around caleb’s fingers, slick gushing as every nerve lit up and flared. caleb cursed beneath his breath, watching the way you clenched, the way your whole body twitched under the aftershocks.

“fuckin’ knew you would,” he muttered, dragging it out.

rafayel reached forward, thumb swiping a drop of wax from your stomach, then brought it to your lips—smearing it slow across them, coaxing your mouth open with the heat.

caleb leaned in again, tongue dragging over the line between your ribs, your stomach, your thigh—before pausing near your cunt, catching the last molten spill before it cooled. his teeth scraped where it hardened, peeling it from you, only to spit it to the side again, mouth open against your skin.

hot breath. a soft bite.

your lips were still parted, breath shaky, when caleb shifted—his soaked fingers slipping free with a wet drag that made you whimper. your cunt clenched around the emptiness he left behind, thighs slick and shaking.

caleb was still crouched between your thighs, tongue dragging a lazy, wet line up the inside of your leg—unhurried, like he was savoring you. then, without looking, he caught the camcorder mid-air as rafayel carelessly tossed it his way.

suddenly, caleb’s hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head up just enough to force your eyes open, dragging you to sit up on the bed.

"up," he said simply, seemingly unbothered.

you went without resistance—dazed, pliant, wrecked—but he didn’t kiss you this time.

instead, he let his cock slap against your cheek, the weight of it landing with a wet, heavy sound. then his hand wrapped around your jaw, fingers pressing in hard until your mouth dropped open on instinct.

“go on,” he murmured, tone dark and amused. “show ‘em what that pretty little mouth is meant for, yeah?”

you looked up at him, dazed—lashes spiked with tears and sweat, lips swollen and slick, parted like you were made to be used. caleb adjusted the camcorder with one hand, angling it down toward your face, while the other clamped firm around your jaw, thumb digging into your cheek until it hurt.

he smirked when your tongue flicked out, barely teasing the tip of his cock—like you thought teasing would save you.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low. “wider, baby,” he tilted your head back, wrist tangled in your hair now, holding you perfectly in frame. “you wanted to be good, yeah? prove it t’ me.”

the lens watched as your lips closed around caleb’s cock slowly, obediently, cheeks hollowing as he slid past your tongue. he groaned low, sharp, letting the camera catch the exact moment your throat took him.

“there ya go,” he hissed, grip tightening. “fuck—that’s it.”

you gagged around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs, but caleb didn’t stop. he held your head in place with one hand wrapped tight in your hair, the other tilting the camera just slightly to catch the strings of spit dripping from your lips.

he didn’t ease you in. his hips snapped forward and you choked, eyes flying wide as he bottomed out. your gag reflex kicked hard, and he held, cock thick and heavy at the back of your throat, hand gripping your hair mercilessly.

“keep those pretty eyes open,” he growled, as your hands clutched the sheets, trembling as he fucked your mouth like he owned it. his hand at your neck held just enough pressure to make the edges of your vision blur.

“fuck, look at her,” rafayel muttered from where he kneeled between your thighs. you couldn’t see him, not fully, but you felt him—his hands gripping your hips, then sliding up, tracing the curve of your spine with a cruel kind of tenderness.

and then—

smack!

his palm cracked across your ass, loud and open, the force of it vibrating through your body. a cry tore from your throat, muffled by caleb’s cock, and another hit followed—then a third, harder, enough to make your legs quake.

rafayel leaned in, kissed the spot he’d just marked, then bit.

teeth sank in just above your ass cheek—sharp, possessive. you yelped around caleb’s cock, and he moaned, “ah fuck…she’s tighter when you hit her,” he muttered. “keep goin’.”

rafayel slapped you again—your thigh this time, harder—and bit the other side to match.

caleb didn’t ease up. if anything, he got meaner the longer you choked on him—hips snapping harder, faster, forcing himself down your throat until your nose was flush to his pelvis, spit spilling in ropes from the corners of your mouth. 

your vision blurred. the sound of his cock dragging over your tongue was wet and obscene, loud in the space between the slap of rafayel’s palm and the low, strained groan caleb let out through gritted teeth.

“you’re not gonna tap out, are you?” he rasped, hips rocking deeper, jaw clenching when you gagged again. “drooling like a bitch in heat. fucking beautiful.”

rafayel’s hands are not just spanking but grabbing, bruising, dragging nails down your ass, over the backs of your thighs, leaving raised welts in their wake. he didn’t bother soothing the pain. didn’t kiss it better. only pressed a new bite into your hip, hard and mean, like he wanted to brand you.

then he spit—right onto your swollen, soaked cunt—and slapped you again, hard enough to knock a fresh cry out of your throat around caleb’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking sight,” he rasped. “isn’t she, ray?”

rafayel had his cock in hand now, hard and flushed, precum slicking his tip as he stroked himself slowly, his eyes devouring the view.

you started to shake. air starved. jaw aching. eyes glassy. caleb held your head in place and fucked your mouth like he owned it, like it was the only place he’d ever finish again. his breath hitched, low and harsh, and he held you there until your hands clawed at his thighs, the edges of your world going dark.

only then did he pull back, cock slick and twitching, your spit connecting the head to your lips in a string that broke when you gasped violently for air.

“look at that mess,” rafayel growled, not even giving you time to recover. his hand tangled in your hair, yanking you upright just as caleb shifted back. 

“pretty little thing…”, his teeth sank into your shoulder, brutal and deep, and you cried out—head thrown back, body jolting as another slap landed across your already raw skin.

your cunt was already wrecked, dripping from your last orgasm, the skin of your ass welted and glowing from rafayel’s brutal hands. spit and wax still clung to your stomach, dried in patches that cooled your flushed skin. caleb had your face slick with spit, lips swollen from how deep he’d fucked your throat. your lip was split open just barely, kissed by teeth and friction, and the camera caught it all. and they weren’t finished.

not even close.

caleb set the camera on the edge of the bedside table, angled with deliberate precision—just wide enough to catch everything. you. him. rafayel. all of it.

“sit the fuck up,” caleb muttered, voice low, rough with restraint. “no—like this.”

he didn’t wait for you to comply. just grabbed you—fist curled in your hair, the other locking around your throat—dragging you down the bed like you were nothing more than a doll to be put in place. he manhandled you, shoving you halfway over rafayel’s thigh, your knees bent awkwardly, legs wrenched wide, cunt slick and exposed, ass hanging off the mattress in a messy, leaking sprawl.

rafayel stood behind you, slow strokes around the base of his cock, like he wasn’t in any rush. like watching you fall apart was enough to get him off. his grin was lazy—eyes on your shaking thighs, on the way your cunt pulsed open and empty.

below you, caleb moved in—settling between your body and the bed like he belonged there, his gaze dropping to your cunt, where slick dripped down your folds and onto the sheets, hot and wet, needy. His cock twitched, heavy and flushed, already nudging against your swollen entrance.

“caleb—! wait, i—” your voice cracked, hips shifting back in panic even as your cunt clenched down on nothing.

“shh, sweetheart,” he cooed, mocking your desperation, one hand steadying your hip while the other dragged the fat, slick head of his cock through the mess between your legs. you whimpered when it caught on your clit, body jolting, a broken little gasp tearing from your throat.

“you’ll take it,” he murmured, angling his hips. “we’ll make it fit.”

and then he pushed in.

you screamed, the sound torn from your throat—loud, shattered, barely a word.

“ah—ah, fuck, caleb—!” your voice cracked, slurred by shock.

the stretch was unbearable—too much, too fast. your hands clawed at the sheets as his cock forced your cunt open, inch by inch. the squelch of him sliding in echoed between your thighs, louder than your gasps, louder than the strangled moans falling from your lips as your body tried to take it, tried not to break.

your cunt fluttered, overwhelmed, as if trying to push him out—clenching down around him like it couldn’t decide if it wanted more or less. it only made him groan, hips grinding deeper.

“fuuuck,” caleb hissed, voice cracking as your walls sucked him in. “still so fucking tight—jesus, baby. you tryna milk me already?”

you sobbed. voice pitchy, pleading. “t–too big ah!— i c–can’t—!”

“yes, you can,” caleb snarled, hand tightening around your throat as he slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the base. the force knocked the air from your lungs, vision white at the edges. “you hear that, cunt’s gripping me like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

“g–god—fuck, caleb—!” your moan cracked open around his name, head tipping back helplessly, mouth slack and drooling. your body tried to recoil from the stretch, but caleb held you there, impaled on his cock, grinding deep like he wanted to rearrange your insides.

“fuck,” caleb hissed, dragging his hips in a slow, punishing grind. “such a sweet little thing f’me, huh?”

rafayel moved in behind you, cock heavy where it pressed against the mess dripping down your thighs. he let the swollen head drag through the wreck caleb left behind—slick and spit smeared in lazy strokes across your overstretched cunt.

you whimpered—high, hitched.

“n–no, i—i can’t—”

“breathe,” he said again, softer this time. mocking soft. his hand found your jaw, tilting your head to the side, guiding your cheek down against the soaked sheets like you were a doll in his hands. “you’re doing fine.”

his thumb traced the edge of your mouth, dragging through the spit that clung to your lips, smeared across your chin from when caleb had fucked your throat raw. he pressed it into the corner of your mouth—then, with the same hand, he slid his thumb past your lips, pressing it down flat against your tongue.

you whimpered around his thumb, tongue twitching under the pressure. your body was still shaking—nerves fried, cunt spasming weakly from everything caleb had already wrung from you.

rafayel groaned at the feel of your mouth, hips rolling forward to grind the thick head of his cock right against your entrance.

“ready?” he said, voice low, barely a breath.

and then he pushed.

your scream punched out of you like a sob, loud and broken, your body caught between them—caleb still buried deep in your cunt as rafayel started to force his way in beside him.

“oh—oh my god—please!, i—it’s too much—!”

rafayel groaned, fingers digging into your hips as he shoved deeper. “nah, baby,” he growled. “this? this is just enough.”

rafayel’s cock stretched you beyond reason, the two of them fighting for space inside you, your hole fluttering, clenching, burning. your back arched violently, legs kicking uselessly as you choked on your moans.

“fuckin’ tight,” rafayel growled, grinding deeper. “you feel that, red bull?”

caleb groaned, guttural. “she’s clenching so hard she’s shaking. fuck, pipsqueak.”

“p–please—p-please, i—i can’t—”, you cried, head thrashing, the stretch overwhelming.

“this is what you wanted, right?,” rafayel whispered against your shoulder, the scrape of his teeth just shy of a bite. “now take it.”

and then he bottomed out.

the thrust was full, brutal—his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs, forcing caleb deeper by sheer pressure. your scream didn’t even have sound anymore—just the wrecked gasp of your body trembled like it couldn’t hold the weight of them. like it didn’t know how to hold itself together anymore. and still—they stayed. filling you so deep it felt like you’d never be empty again. never be yours again.

“fucking hell,” rafayel grunted, hips pressed tight as he bottomed out, his cock heavy and unforgiving where it throbbed beside caleb’s inside you.

your breath hitched—then collapsed into a sob.

“a-ah—nnh’ please—” the sound spilled out of you before you could stop it, torn from somewhere between pain and need. your whole body shook, fingers clenching uselessly in the sheets, eyes blown wide and glassy with tears. you didn’t know if it was too much or not enough.

your next moan cracked halfway through. “h-haah—f-fuck—”

they moved together.

caleb started first, driving up from beneath you, slow and deep, his cock dragging thick through the swollen mess of your cunt. the friction made your back arch, another sharp cry breaking from your throat. rafayel followed right behind him, hips snapping forward like he wanted to force every inch of you to remember him.

“a-ah, ahhh please—fuck, it’s—haa—i c-can’t—!”

the words barely made it past your lips, choked and slurred between breathless sobs. your voice cracked each time rafayel bottomed out, and caleb gave you no time to recover—cock dragging so thick and slow it made your whole body spasm.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think. all you could do was feel—stretch and burn and pleasure and heat. your pussy spasmed violently, orgasm tearing through you so sudden it hit like a punch, your whole body seizing between them. your head dropped back, mouth open on a broken cry as you clenched around them both, cunt fluttering helplessly.

caleb’s hand slid back around your throat and pulled, lifting your head by the neck like he was reeling you back into him. your spine arched instinctively, breath caught sharp in your throat, mouth dropping open with a strangled, gasping moan.

“where’s that pretty voice gone, huh?” he growled into your ear, tone rough and thick with heat, breath scalding against your sweat-damp skin. “don’t go quiet on us now. let ’em hear how sweet you sound.”

you tried to speak, but all that came out was a whimper. before you could catch your breath, another slap followed. and another. each hit blurring into the next, the sting sharp and blooming, cutting perfectly against the pressure of them inside you. you couldn’t separate the pain from the pleasure anymore.

“ah—f-fuck—ahh—!” your moans punched out with each snap of rafayel’s hips and every smack of his palm, your thighs trembling, jaw slack under caleb’s grip.

“that’s it,” caleb rasped, his hand flexing tighter. “there she is.”

“say it,” rafayel hissed, breath hot, voice cut sharp through the slap of skin and the wet, wrecked mess between your thighs. his pace didn’t falter—if anything, it got meaner, cruel rhythm pounding into your overstretched cunt like he was trying to fuck the words out of you by force. “tell us who you fucking belong to.”

your mouth opened, but all that came out was a high, cracked moan—too breathless, too gone. your body seized between them, legs twitching like you couldn’t hold the weight of them anymore.

“nnh—ahh—i—f-fuck—”

your voice broke, and they didn’t slow down.

caleb's grip cinched harder around your throat, just enough to steal the edges of your breath—just enough to make your body panic in the prettiest ways.

“use your words, baby,” he growled against your ear. “or don’t come at all.”

“y-you—” you gasped, tears blurring your vision. “b-both—i-i’m yours—i’m fucking—”

“louder.” caleb’s snarl was sharp, his hand flexing—your body jerked.

“yours!” you sobbed, voice shredded. “i’m fucking yours, please—please—i can’t—i can’t—”

“yes you fucking can,” rafayel snapped, nails digging into your hips as he slammed in again, forcing your body forward like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

the room filled with noise—wet, brutal, filthy sounds of skin on skin, the slick drag of cock against cock inside you, your own cries breaking over and over as another orgasm hit without warning. it ripped through you like a wave crashing, your entire body collapsing between them, shaking violently, every nerve lit up and raw.

caleb’s hand slid from your throat to your jaw, fingers digging in tight, forcing your head back. you barely registered the way he leaned in until the warm hit of his spit landed on your tongue.

“swallow,” he said—your lips closed around the taste of him, and you choked on a sob, tears streaking down as your body jolted with another sharp thrust. caleb leaned in, tongue slow and cruel as he licked the tears from your cheek.

“shh, shh,” he cooed, mockingly sweet as his cock drove deeper, harder—pace turning feral. “don’t go soft on us now, pipsqueak.”

you whimpered—shattered, spent, yet somehow still trembling on the edge of another high. your cunt spasmed again, overstimulated, fluttering around them both, and you knew—they were going to fuck you straight into the floor if you let them.

and god, you would let them.

rafayel spat onto your back, the heat of it stark against your skin. he smeared it in slow, filthy circles, rubbing it down your spine like a mark that branded you theirs. his fingers sank into your hips, holding you steady as your thighs trembled violently.

caleb groaned low—raw, frayed. it broke out of him like it hurt. you could hear the edge in it, the unraveling. every word that followed sounded like it was clawed from his throat.

“don’t pull out,” he bit, barely more than a growl. “leave it in her.”

rafayel didn’t hesitate. just grunted, thick and low. “wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

he adjusted the focus again, zeroing in on the slick mess where your bodies met. the shutter flicked once, signaling that he had taken a photo. 

“still rolling,” caleb breathed, close enough for his voice to crawl over your skin. his mouth was at your jaw, breath warm, trembling.

“go on, baby… give ’em a fucking show.”

your body jolted between them, overstimulated and spent, and still they didn’t stop—rafayel driving in from behind with sharp, punishing thrusts, caleb fucking up into you slow and deep, dragging every raw nerve along the edge.

“a-ah—f-fuck—caleb, i—i c-can’t—!” your moan cracked, slurred, wrecked from the way they filled you, stretched you, used you.

“yes, you can,” caleb muttered, teeth gritted, hand curling around your throat again—not squeezing, just holding you there, grounded in his grip. “you’ll take it, baby. all of it.”

rafayel was panting now, loud against your back, hips stuttering. “she’s shaking—fuck—shit, i’m gonna—”

your cunt clenched, involuntarily, fluttering around both of them, and they felt it—both of them groaning in sync.

“gonna fill you up,” rafayel snarled, voice cracking, pace breaking down. “fuck—feel that? feel how close i am?”

you whimpered, sobbed through it. “i-i feel it—please—please just—fuck, don’t stop—”

his thrusts turned rougher, sharper—each one dragging you closer to the edge again even though you thought there was nothing left. your moans got higher, tighter, every sound punching out of you in helpless bursts.

“g-god—caleb—raf—ah—please—!”

then caleb groaned, deep and wrecked, hips slamming into you one last time as his body went taut, breath punched out of him.

“fuck, i’m cummin’—fucking take it—”

rafayel followed seconds later, thrust grinding in and holding, the heat of him pulsing inside you. his hand slapped against your ass once more, then held you down as he finished, every sound out of him rough, broken, lost in you.

you sobbed, trembling, barely coherent as caleb shifted—still buried inside you, still keeping their combined release sealed deep in your cunt—and reached for the recorder from the bedside table with one hand, fingers slick with sweat and spit. 

he adjusted the angle lazily, tilting it to catch everything: your ruined body, your twitching thighs, the mess leaking down between them. the sight must’ve satisfied something in him, because he finally exhaled—shaky, spent—and let the camcorder drop to the floor near the bed.

your body felt boneless—like the moment they let go, you might slip straight through the sheets, weightless and untethered. every inch of you buzzed, overstretched and glowing at the seams.

caleb was the first to move, slow and careful, like you might splinter if he breathed too hard.  eased back with a sharp hiss, hands steadying you—one braced at your thigh, the other gliding down your side like an apology.

“easy,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, barely above a breath. “got you, pipsqueak. just… breathe.”

your chest rose, shallow and uneven. your lips were parted, but no sound came—just the faint catch of breath like a ghost of a moan, stuck between a sob and a gasp. your fingers twitched, curling weakly into caleb’s chest like you didn’t know where else to go.

rafayel leaned in next, close but unhurried, the heat of him steady. his hand slid beneath your head, cradling it like you were something delicate—something worth handling gently. his eyes met yours, sharp but clear now, voice dipped into something quiet.

“you with us?”

you nodded, just barely. it was enough.

“good girl,” he whispered, his thumb brushing beneath your eye, sweeping away a stray tear you hadn’t even noticed. “there you are. that’s it, stay right here.”

“hurts,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. “it—still hurts.”

“i know,” caleb said, “we’ll fix it. stay with us, baby. we’ve got you.” his forehead pressed to yours, breath steadying as he breathed for both of you.

you whimpered when rafayel’s hands settled at your hips, gentle this time, a stark contrast to the bruising grip he held you with just a while ago. he brought a warm towel to your thighs, but the moment the cloth met your skin, you flinched. your legs twitched like you wanted to close them, but couldn’t.

“it’s okay,” caleb murmured from behind you, “i’ve got you.”

caleb pulled you back into the bed with him—one arm firm around your stomach, the other dragging the blanket over your body. you were already clean—rafayel had wiped away every trace with care that didn’t match the mess they’d made—but caleb still kissed the crown of your head.

your breathing slowed. your fingers, once curled so tight into the sheets and their skin, finally loosened. your body gave in at last—sinking into the heat of their arms, into the steady weight of them on either side of you. the trembling eased, not gone, but dulled into something bearable beneath their touch.

you sniffled, voice thin and shaky. “i feel… m-messy.”

“…you’re perfect,” rafayel whispered, the words barely more than breath.

he pressed a kiss to your shoulder—soft, lingering—then another, trailing slowly upward. each one warmer than the last. the curve of your neck, the edge of your jaw. like he needed to relearn every part of you now that the storm had passed.

you shivered, not from cold, but from how gently he touched you now. like you were fragile. like he didn’t want to wake something still trembling inside you.

his voice came again, quieter this time, lips brushing against your skin.

“always have been.”

caleb’s hand stayed at your waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against your skin; rafayel’s fingers threaded through your hair, grounding you with every gentle stroke.

the last thing you felt was the press of two mouths—one at your temple, one behind your ear—and the sound of them breathing around you, slow and steady, syncing with yours like they were lulling your heart into rhythm. 

you didn’t even notice when your eyes finally closed.

morning crept in slow.

you didn’t open your eyes at first. just lay there, still and quiet, letting the warmth of the sheets sink into your skin. everything felt heavy—your limbs, your breath, the ache blooming low in your body like a bruise that pulsed instead of throbbed. familiar. almost comforting.

caleb was still beside you.

you felt him before you saw him—his arm draped over your waist, weighty and warm, hand splayed across your stomach like he’d fallen asleep mid-touch. his chest rose and fell in soft, even rhythm. close enough that each breath brushed the curve of your shoulder. he hadn’t moved much. his curls were a mess, lips parted, skin still kissed with the heat of the night before.

rafayel was gone.

you could feel it in the quiet. the space where his body had been was still warm, just barely. the pillow at your back held the faintest imprint of his head, a dent in the sheets where his weight used to be.

your eyes opened slowly. the light through the curtains was soft—golden, muted, like it didn’t want to wake you too harshly. your body ached in a way that settled deep, stretched and sore. the sheets clung to your skin—warm, a little damp with sleep, the scent of them still thick in the air. salt and skin. sweat and something sweeter.

you sighed, quiet. the sound barely stirred the air.

caleb didn’t wake.

so you stayed there, curled beneath the blanket, skin flushed and worn, body half-claimed and half-floating, eyes open to a room still echoing with ghosts of touch and breath.

after a while, you moved—just enough to reach toward the nightstand, fingers dragging heavy across the sheets. your hand fumbled for a second before it found your phone, still half-buried beneath a crumpled hoodie and the edge of a pillow.

the screen lit up, harsh and blue in the golden light.

you winced.

your thumb dragged across the glass on instinct, automatic, muscle memory overriding thought. no notifications—just the dull stack of time passing in quiet hours you hadn’t noticed.

you opened an app. didn’t register which one. just scrolled.

posts blurred past—photos, headlines, clips of things that didn’t feel real. people laughing. news cycling. a voiceover you didn’t recognize spilling out from a reel you didn’t mean to tap. everything felt far away. like it was happening in a world you’d stepped out of.

you kept scrolling.

your body stayed still, tucked beneath the blanket, the ghost of caleb’s hand still curved against your ribs. your eyes were open, but your mind wasn’t really there—floating somewhere between the press of last night and the pull of this morning, dazed and raw and too full of everything to think straight.

you could still feel their mouths, their hands, the way your body had been passed between them like something they’d never get enough of. your chest felt too tight. your breath came too shallow. but your fingers moved anyway, aimless, scrolling.

and then you blinked.

a headline stared back at you—bold and red, too sharp against the white background on your screen.

“f1 stars caleb xia and rafayel qi absent for final gala speech — ‘unreachable,’ sources say.”

the breath in your lungs caught.

your eyes dropped to the photo beneath it. the angle was terrible, the lighting worse—clearly taken from the far end of the venue, probably with someone’s phone. but it didn’t matter. you knew it the moment you saw it.

there you were. the shimmer of your dress, caught in motion. rafayel’s hand pressing low on your back. caleb beside you, jaw tense, caught in profile, the line of his mouth sharp like he’d just snapped something under his breath. 

the article was vague, wordy in the way gossip tries to sound official. phrases like “unreachable,” “seen leaving prior to scheduled remarks,” “reportedly left through an alternate exit.” it didn’t say anything meaningful. it didn’t have to. the comments already knew how to spin it.

your fingers tightened around the phone. you scrolled.

comments flooded the post— where did they go? was there a fight? caleb looked pissed af in that last clip. …wait is that y/n?

you were about to close it when your eyes snagged on something further down. a new paragraph. a fresh update.

“speculation intensifies after a now-viral instagram story, still live on rafayel qi’s verified account, appears to show an intimate scene involving the missing drivers.”

just a still frame of the room you were still lying in.

the same crumpled sheets. the same muted light. the edge of the bed, and a spill of clothes slouched over the corner like they’d melted off bodies—rafayel’s shirt, caleb’s jacket, your dress, something small and lacey, twisted inside-out—half-hanging from the edge of the mattress.

and next to it, the camera. screen lit, frame frozen. it was unmistakable.

your throat closed.

on the tiny camcorder screen—you could see yourself.

you were astride something—your naked back arched toward the lens, your thighs spread. your eyes looking right at the camera—smoke swirling from between your teeth, lips parted in a lazy, stupid smile. beneath you, just barely visible, rafayel’s face. his hands. his grin.

and the tags were right there.

@ calebxia, @ yourusername

“what the fuck…”, you whispered it first. just breath.

then again, louder, hoarse and sharp and disbelieving.

“what the fuck, rafayel?!”

caleb shifted beside you, groggy, blinking himself awake. “mm… what’s wrong?”

but you didn’t turn. your hand was shaking now, still gripping the phone, your pulse thudding too loud in your ears.

the story was real. still up. still public.

and now—everywhere.

author's note : sooooo... yeah. life really grabbed me by the throat (and not in the fun way). just a series of minor existential crises, but guess what? i’m back. in the middle of crying over my dead puppy and dodging family group chats, i still found the strength to write tongue-on-clit, moaning-on-camera degeneracy. because priorities. so here it is. the long-awaited, depraved, probably morally questionable fic. may it unhinge your jaw and rot your brain the way it did mine. you're welcome 🤍

dividers by @omi-resources and @ saradika-graphics

taglist : @mcdepressed290 @yriexa @13tter

# do not repost, translate, or upload my work to any other platforms. tumblr reblogs are welcome and appreciated, but reposting outside of this blog is not permitted !

— ✦ © @ x1asirene, tumblr 2025 ✧

[liabugs]

It’s that time again…

Why Caleb/MC Are Not Incestuous

AKA: Your Casual Language Around Abuse Is Ticking Me Off

Tw: SA, Incest, Pseudocest, Grooming, adult language. This is personal.

1. Lets open our dictionary please

Incest: Sexual relations between people classed as being too closely related to marry one another (e.g., parent, child, sibling, or grandchild).

Legally, in most U.S. states, this is a crime.

Point blank: Caleb and MC are not related.

• Not by blood.

• Not by law.

• Not in any way that would make their relationship illegal or incestuous.

So no matter how anyone tries to twist the definitions—this is not incest.

2. Pseudocest ≠ Incest

You’ll often see the term “pseudocest” thrown around online—especially in porn, smut, or fandom discourse. It means: “Looks like incest, but it’s not technically incest because they’re not biologically related.”

Is it in the dictionary? No. But is it everywhere? Yeah—especially in step-sibling porn or taboo fanfics. That’s why some people are calling Caleb and MC’s relationship: pseudocest. Which is technically correct - definition wise.

But here’s the deal:

• The “brother/sister” label is performative—given to them by the world, not by biology or choice (Caleb makes it clear he is not MC’s big bro, in all translations of the game).

• If it makes you uncomfortable, that’s valid but let’s not conflate narrative trope with actual incest.

3. Why This Matters to Me

Now, here’s why I’m heated—and why this isn’t just internet semantics to me.

I’m a survivor. I was abused by my stepbrother growing up. He was encouraged by my stepmother.

• It started young.

• It never “progressed” to sex, but it was still abuse.

• I was groomed and gaslit by a boy who watched step-sibling porn.

For years, I thought what he did to me was okay. That it was twisted love, even if it made me feel so despised. For years after, I couldn’t trust men at all. And I’m still picking up the pieces today.

So yeah—I get upset when I see people casually glorifying incest/pseudocest in LADS spaces. Because I know firsthand how dangerous that fantasy can be when it leaks into real life.

4. This Isn’t Just About One Game

Let’s zoom out.

• Yes, pseudocest is popular in Eastern media—especially anime, manhwa, and J-dramas.

• Yes, it’s often used to create a “taboo” vibe, while sidestepping legal and moral boundaries.

• No, that doesn’t mean it’s healthy or harmless.

People defending Caleb/MC as “incest” because they like the kink? That’s one thing. I don’t agree that my trauma should be your kink, let me be frank. But others are vilifying Caleb or canceling players entirely because they misunderstand what’s actually going on. That’s not fair—and it’s not factual.

Worse?

Some are even upset that the translations toned down the incestuous language. Like the taboo was the selling point. That’s when I lose my patience.

5. Let’s Be Clear

• Caleb and MC’s relationship is not incestuous.

• It was intentionally written to flirt with the taboo, but not cross the legal or moral line.

• If people want to explore incest/pseudocest tropes in fiction, that’s their business—but don’t rewrite reality to defend your kinks.

• And for survivors like me, this stuff isn’t just provocative—it’s personal. Be respectful.

Finally —just to throw this out there loud and clear:

It’s about the danger of romanticizing abuse under the disguise of “just fiction” or “taboo storytelling.”

And I’m tired. I’m tired of the discourse. I’m tired of having to explain why this isn’t cute or edgy—it’s harmful. I’m tired of people weaponizing fiction to excuse real-world trauma.

Fiction can explore the dark, the taboo, the uncomfortable—but that doesn’t mean we throw out reason, morality, or basic decency.

Love and Deepspace is not real.

We love our lads, sure—we can joke, defend, even obsess. But twisting the narrative to persecute players or push some weird incest-baiting agenda? That’s not fandom.

So please—just drop it.

Let facts be facts.

Not incest.

[liabugs]

Happy birthday you absolute goober 🍎❤️

[liabugs]

lost my 50/50 to zayne but then i spent fifteen dollars, at least i got him !!!!

(might start writing again but idk???)

[liabugs]

“trans people in sports is such a complex issue” it really isn’t. make the sports skills-based instead of segregated by gender. “ohhh but so many people’s lives depend on their sports for scholarships” okay then let’s make university universally funded so people don’t have to worry about paying for it based on how well they can throw a ball. how are you not keeping up

[liabugs]

coming back from the void to say: Caleb’s eyes are like a sunset, which perfectly ties into his association with the sky.

okay back into the void i go byee 🩷

[liabugs]

[liabugs]

i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl on his dreams

[liabugs]

He’s never beating the allegations! 😆😆

[liabugs]

Caleb is a strong believer in your money is your money and his money is also your money.

Saving up for something special for yourself. You don’t have to. Caleb will buy it for you.

You see a pair of shoes you love while out shopping with him. They’re exactly in your style but they’re expensive. You can’t justify to yourself to spend that much.

“Get them, I’ll pay for it Pips”

“No it’s fine. They’re too expensive for you to do that for me”

The next day a package is delivered to your apartment. It’s the exact same shoes you wanted in your size. Plus another pair in a different color.

Your car broke down and it’s going to be costly to fix. Caleb is already telling the mechanic to bill him the repairs.

Caleb gave you access to his savings accounts, checking accounts and credit cards. So you can use them whenever you need.

Caleb prides himself in being a provider. What’s the point in earning so much money as a colonel if he can’t take care of and spoil you.

Im an amateur at writing. I’m sorry for any mistakes

[liabugs]

bad habit

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: SMUT (18+) baby daddy!Caleb he toxic, you toxic, we all toxic! mentions of accidental pregnancy, baby trapping, p in v, wrap it before you tap it kids, emotional manipulation, cheating, tiddies, swearing, not really proofread oops Summary: what could go wrong when you drop your daughter off at her dad's?

A/N: ahahaha....yeah.

Masterlist | Tip Jar

You opened the front door just as Caleb’s Lamborghini pulled up. The engine had barely cut before he stepped out, lifting Lyra from the back seat in his signature gray sweatpants. The ones you used to steal for bed because they were soft and roomy. The ones that outlined his third leg that had you drooling into the pillow when he took you from behind. 

And the cologne? The one that used to bring you to your knees? It hit you before he even reached the porch: warm, woodsy, with that hint of sweetness underneath.

You hated how your body still recognized it.

“Morning,” he said with that lazy grin, the one that meant trouble.

“It’s 3 PM.”

He shrugged, setting Lyra down. “Afternoon, then.”

She immediately ran to you, and threw arms around your legs. “Daddy let me eat a whole donut!”

“Did he now?”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said, hands shoved into his pockets, “I balanced it out with organic apple slices.”

You met Caleb in college through your friend Zayne. At the time, you were deep into your studies, spending late nights hunched over textbooks, juggling clinical rotations and barely enough sleep to function. Caleb was your polar opposite: a frat boy with lofty dreams of becoming a pilot.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had noticed you long before that first introduction. He’d asked Zayne about you, watched for you on campus, and memorized your schedule. Before long, he was trailing you, orchestrating run ins and brushing them off as coincidence.

Despite the differences, something about his boyishness drew you in. He was sweet. Thoughtful. Always showing up with your favorite coffee like he’d read your mind, offering you his hoodie when it got cold, texting reminders to eat when he knew you were pulling all-nighters. You chalked it up to young love.

Then you found out you were pregnant.

You’d both been careful. Religiously so. But birth control failed you, and suddenly everything changed.

Caleb had pretended to be shocked. He stammered through questions, like the news had knocked the wind out of him. But deep down, he was thrilled. Triumphant. Like the universe had handed him exactly what he needed to keep you tethered to him. 

Before the end of your first trimester, he was already coming up with baby names, borrowing prenatal books from the library and picking out nursery colors.

He convinced you to give your little family a shot.

And for a while it worked.

But old habits die hard. Caleb was addicted to adrenaline and the freedom of the skies, always off on assignment or with his friends. He’d return after long absences with grand gestures, overcompensating in ways that only made you feel more alone. Like a single parent playing house with someone who showed up only when it was convenient.

In the end, you were the one who ended the relationship. You told Caleb that Lyra deserved more stability than the two of you could offer as things stood. If he wanted to be part of her life, something had to change. You gave him a choice: co-parent on your terms or risk losing both of you for good.

Caleb agreed, saying all the right things and promising to do better for your daughter. And he did. As soon as Lyra could walk, he started taking her to enrichment activities, showed up to school functions and even rearranged his assignments to stay closer. His social media was curated with moments of fatherhood designed to prove just how devoted he was.

But even after four years apart, he kept tabs on your every move using your daughter as a reason to keep his foot in the door of your life.

Because two things were clear in his mind: one, you would never take his daughter away from him, and two, you were his forever, whether you liked it or not.

You cleared your throat and grabbed Lyra’s backpack. “Hey, would you be able to take her an extra day this week?”

“Yeah? You got plans?”

“Science symposium on Wednesday night. I’m on the panel.”

Which was true. Mostly. You just didn’t mention the reception after. Or the dress you hadn’t worn since pre-Lyra. Or the plans you had with your boyfriend. 

“Love?” Zayne’s voice floated from inside the house. “Do you want me to start dinner—Oof!”

Lyra barreled into him before he could finish, wrapping her arms around his legs with a squeal of laughter. 

“Uncle Zayne! I saw the dino at the museum!” she beamed, bouncing on her toes. “The big one with the long neck! Brachiosaurus!”

He gave her an exaggerated gasp of admiration that made her giggle.

Zayne had been your friend first at university, just two nerds bonded by matching caffeine addictions and mutual exam anxiety. He was the one who introduced you to Caleb but moved away for his residence, and life naturally pulled you in different directions. 

But then you ran into him at a medical conference and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. He’d just returned to Linkon, now a cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital. One coffee run turned into late night texts and somehow, he had reentered your life, this time again as your boyfriend.

Caleb clenched his jaw as he watched the scene unfold. Lyra had always been a sweet little girl but sometimes, she was a little too friendly for his comfort. Especially now, clinging to Zayne like that.

“Sure,” he said, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I can take her.”

Co-parenting with Caleb had been smoother than you expected and you told yourself it was all for Lyra, and mostly, it was. But there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go. 

Which is how you ended up pinned against the wall on Wednesday, an hour before your panel, with Caleb’s cock sliding in and out of your sopping cunt.

You were just dropping Lyra off on your way to the symposium hoping for a quick goodbye and a gentle reminder for your daughter to be good. But then Caleb opened the door completely shirtless with nothing but sweats on.

“You dressed up for me?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s for the symposium.”

He tilted his head, gaze dropping to the deep neckline of your dress then back up.

“We’ll see how far that dress gets you.”

“Pretty far,” you shot back. “Starting with away from here.”

“Hey, Bug,” Caleb called over his shoulder, tone softening. “Why don’t you head inside and pick a movie? I’ll be right there.”

Lyra nodded leaving the door ajar behind her. He stepped closer, closing the distance, and your eyes dropped straight to the expanse of his chest, right to those perfect pecs you loved taking a bite out of. 

“Yeah? Where you gonna go? To your little boyfriend? Last time you looked at me like that, you ended up bent over the counter.”

“Asshole,” you muttered, but didn’t step back. 

He leaned in, lifting the hem of your dress. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

You knew he was challenging you. And maybe you’d already accepted it the moment you engaged with him. The thought of him waiting, imagining what was under your dress, had already started undoing you before he even touched you.

His fingers glide up your thigh before hooking your lace panties to the side. The tip of his clothed cock brushed against you and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you as he toyed with your slit.

“I’m going to be l-late!”

“Then you better cum quick.” 

His lips brushed along your jaw as he pulled the strap of your dress down, cupping your breast with his other hand. You hated how easily he got under your skin. You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes rolled back as he pushed between your folds, making your cunt flutter and drawing out choked sobs from the sheer size of him. 

It was a habit. A bad one. You had no business being here, like this, especially not now. Not when you had someone else. Someone kind, sweet, and good. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d fallen into this dance with your ex. And deep down, you weren’t sure it would be the last. Because the lies and guilt didn’t matter when Caleb had his hands on you.

“Look at the mess you’re making,” he growled, gripping your jaw and tilting your face down to where your arousal coated his shaft, the thick, creamy ring forming at the base.

“Squeezin’ me like this. This what you wanted, huh? He’s not fucking you right, is he?”

“N-No,” you whimpered, shaking your head. 

Caleb grinned before crashing his lips against yours, swallowing your moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. You were breathless, chest heaving as his tongue dragged along your bottom lip before his teeth caught it in a teasing bite.

“You’re mine. Always mine.” 

You felt it in the way he moved. Every thrust was a punishment, a reminder that you could never truly leave him. Coherent thought vanished, replaced by the overwhelming way he filled you and you could only ground your hips harder against him. Caleb met you without hesitation, thrusting up, deeper and rougher, like he knew exactly what you needed and refused to give you anything less.

“Miss this pussy so much, shit…” he gritted out, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the surge of release threatening to take over. 

You could tell he was trying hard to keep his shit together. You wanted him to come undone, and so you did the only thing that came to mind: you pushed your hips forward, clenched your pussy muscles and latched your lips around one of his nipples. 

If Caleb needed to remind you that you were his, then this was your reminder that you could ruin him just as easily. The groan that rumbled through his chest was animalistic and going without your pussy for weeks made him sensitive. Now that he has it wrapped around him he could hardly stand it.

“B-Baby fuuuck,” he moaned, then suddenly his hand was on the back of your head, urging you on as you lapped at his chest. 

His face scrunched up as you gently pinched his nipple between your teeth and you grinned, flicking your tongue over it. There was something addictive about watching him fall apart.

Maybe it was payback for all the nights he left you alone with Lyra, for every bullshit excuse he made up, or for the times he ditched you for his friends. Whatever it was, watching him unravel felt like reclaiming power—messy and petty.

Caleb squirmed and let out a gasp that sounded close to a whimper as you moved to the other one. You gave it a few licks before biting down, eyes fixed on his face through your lashes. His face was flushed red, eyes squeezed shut and mouth slacked.

Seeing him like this had you edging closer yourself, because how could someone look so pretty, all fucked out for you?

“Hnngg gonna cum in you, ‘kay? Gonna come in my pussy, give you another baby hahhh…”

"Caleb-- Caleb oh-- fuck I'm gonna cum!"

With a guttural groan and a stutter of his hips, Caleb flooded your cunt with thick ropes of cum, leaking from your folds and trailing down the backs of your thighs.

One messy, unrelenting thrust later, and the tension coiled in your belly snapped, setting you ablaze. Your toes curled as stars burst behind your eyes, your body trembling uncontrollably as you clung to him like your life depended on it.

Just like he wanted.

Caleb pressed his forehead to yours, then caught your lips in one last, bruising kiss. When he pulled back, he crouched to slide your sticky panties back into place, like he was sending you off with a parting gift. 

One he hoped your perfect, sweet boyfriend and colleagues would notice.

You were a wreck. Sweaty, flushed, makeup smudged, hair a tangled mess around your face as you yanked your dress back down. And you still had to sit on a panel and talk about infectious diseases like you hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked on the front step of your baby daddy’s house.

You wobbled to your feet, trying to piece yourself back together, when Caleb pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.

“Security cam caught the whole thing,” he whistled.

You spun around. “Caleb!”

But he was already strolling inside like he hadn’t just ruined your evening and career in ten minutes. His lips curled into a smirk as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

That footage might come in handy someday.

“Bug! What movie did you pick out? Let’s order pizza!”

taglist: @browneyedgirl22

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Grocery Day!

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*looks at books* too tired for you *looks at films* too tired for you *looks at art supplies* too tired for you *eyes fall on tumblr* oho ho

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No wonder why this pose is familiar