valyvinny

[valyvinny]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Wanna make out?

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

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, suggestive? just reader being bored lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You’re bored 2.0

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel was lounging sideways on the sunroom sofa, sketchbook balanced on his knees, blue-pink eyes narrowed in sleepy concentration. He had a brush between his teeth, hair messily piled up with a seashell clip you left lying around. Every so often, he dipped the brush in water and swirled in pinks and blues like he was dreaming them onto the page.

You walked in with absolutely no intention of letting him finish whatever masterpiece he was working on. Wearing your tiny frilly shorts and one of his oversized shirts that barely clung to your shoulders, you leaned on the doorframe dramatically like a princess burdened by too much free time.

“Raf,” you said, blinking slowly.

He hummed a distracted, “Mm?” without looking up.

“Wanna make out?”

The brush dropped. Literally. Fell from his mouth and onto the page.

He blinked at you. “What?”

“I’m bored,” you said simply, strolling over like a cat with nothing to do. “You’ve been ignoring me for like… hours.”

“Pearlie,” he muttered, setting the sketchbook aside with a thud. “I’m painting you a seascape for the bathroom wall. A gift. From my heart.”

“Okay,” you said, plopping right onto his lap, straddling him. “Wanna make out?”

His fingers curled at your hips like he physically couldn’t say no, even if he had a sliver of resolve left.

“…You can’t just weaponize your boredom like this,” he whispered, voice low, eyes fluttering down to your lips.

You leaned forward until your nose brushed his. “Mmhm, I can. And I do. Because I’m spoiled.”

He groaned under his breath, head falling back against the couch. “God, I hate you. You’re evil.”

“Is that a yes?”

Instead of answering, Rafayel grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you like you’d just rescued him from a shipwreck. Messy, deep, possessive, the way he always kissed when you initiated things, like he wanted to remind you who you belonged to even though you’d been married for ages.

His sketchbook slid off the couch and landed with a quiet thud.

You were too busy giggling into his mouth to care.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne was at his desk in the home office, pristine white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fingers gliding across his tablet as he reviewed post-op notes and signed off on casework. He looked so serious, brows drawn, jaw tight, the pale glow of his screen lighting up those sharp hazel-green eyes.

You stood in the doorway in your plush slippers and soft silk robe (the one he bought you after you whined about wanting to feel like “a princess on vacation all the time”), clutching a smoothie you didn’t even want.

“Zaynieeeeeee,” you sing-songed.

He didn’t look up. “Sweetheart, give me twenty minutes, I’m almost done.”

“I don’t have twenty minutes,” you said, stepping into the room with a dramatic sigh. “I’m bored.”

“I told you to rest, remember? You said your stomach was hurting—”

“I’m healed now,” you declared, crossing the room until you were behind his chair. You looped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Wanna make out?”

He paused. Stylus still. Head slowly turned toward you.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.

You smiled sweetly. “And you love me.”

“I’m in the middle of reviewing a cardiothoracic surgery.”

“And I’m in the middle of a crisis.” You leaned closer, lips brushing his ear. “Of boredom.”

He stared ahead for a second like he was weighing the cost-benefit ratio of kissing his wife vs finishing work.

Then, with a soft sigh, he set the stylus down and tugged you around to sit in his lap.

“You’re incorrigible,” he murmured against your lips as he leaned in. “Completely shameless.”

You beamed. “Well, you made me quit my job. What else am I supposed to do?”

His kiss was slow and steady, like he was savoring every second. One hand cradled your jaw, the other wrapped firmly around your waist. And the way he kissed… like he was re-centering himself. Like you were the only break he needed.

Eventually, you pulled back, breathless. “Still mad I interrupted your notes?”

Zayne ran his thumb across your bottom lip, eyes dark and fond. “Ask me again in twenty minutes. We might not get any work done today.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Xavier was curled up in the reading nook again, barefoot and soft-faced in a loose ivory shirt and grey linen pants, knees drawn up while he scrolled lazily through data logs on a holographic screen. He looked like some divine painting, silvery hair falling in strands across his eyes, cheek resting against the cushioned wall, expression unreadable.

You padded over silently, your frilly babydoll dress swishing with each step, arms folded as you watched him from across the room.

He didn’t even glance up. “What’s wrong, bunny?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

He flicked his gaze toward you, soft and slow. “You’re standing like a neglected cat. The dramatic kind.”

You squinted at him. “…I’m not neglected.”

“You’re pouting.”

“I’m bored.”

“I told you to nap.”

“I don’t want to nap.” You walked over, crouched by the edge of the cushion. “Wanna make out?”

He blinked.

Paused.

Then gave the faintest smile, the kind that made his lips tilt, barely visible unless you knew what to look for.

“You do look kissable,” he murmured, like he was weighing a moral decision. “But you’ll distract me. I was decoding Farsector coordinates.”

“I’m literally your wife,” you said, crawling up onto the cushion beside him, legs swinging over his lap. “You should be honored that I want to make out with you.”

He set the screen aside with a flick of his fingers and cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb tracing over your cheek slowly like he was making a decision in real time.

Then he pulled you in.

Xavier kissed you with the calm intensity of someone who wasn’t in any rush. Deep and unhurried, one arm around your waist, the other buried in your hair. He kissed like he was tasting starlight. Like he was grounding himself back to reality after floating somewhere too far off.

You pulled back with a dreamy sigh, sprawled half-across his lap. “Better than Farsector coordinates?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Infinitely.”

“…Wanna do it again?”

A pause. Then:

“I’ll pretend I’m weak to your charms,” he murmured, already kissing your jaw, “if it makes you feel powerful.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus was in his sleek office upstairs, lounging behind the glass desk in his black-on-black designer shirt, sleeves pushed up, red eyes flicking over security reports and quarterly projections like he was skimming a children’s book. His silver hair was tousled from how often he ran a hand through it while deep in thought. His legs were up on the desk, fingers twirling a platinum pen.

He didn’t look up when you entered, too engrossed in reading.

“You’re quiet,” he said dryly, sensing your presence. “What did you break?”

You stepped around the desk slowly, fingers trailing the edge, silk robe dragging behind you like a little train. “Nothing,” you chirped sweetly. “Just bored.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his pen twice on the desk. “Didn’t you just buy twelve new perfumes to play with?”

“Already sniffed them all. And the tiara you ordered me came in two days early, so I already did my princess strut through the halls.”

“I saw. The staff almost bowed.”

You reached him, sliding onto his lap without asking, like you always did. His arm instinctively curled around your waist, keeping you there.

“Wanna make out?” you asked innocently.

That got his attention. He tilted his head slightly, sharp red eyes narrowing with slow amusement.

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’m bored,” you repeated, curling your fingers into his collar. “So. Wanna make out?”

He smirked. The slow, dangerous kind, like you’d just challenged him to something he already planned to win.

“You are so inconveniently irresistible,” he muttered. “You know I have meetings in.”

“Don’t care,” you said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back just slightly, watching you with that glittering, calculating look. “Are you seducing me because you’re bored? Or because you know I’ll drop everything the second you ask?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” He set the pen down. “Manipulative little thing.”

Then he kissed you, rougher than the others, a little indulgent, a little possessive. His hand gripped the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh like he had no plans of letting you move for the rest of the day. His kiss tasted like control and submission all tangled up, because he knew exactly who had the power in this moment.

When you pulled back, dazed and flushed, he ran his thumb along your lip, amused.

“Go on then,” he murmured, “ask me again, kitty.”

“…Wanna make out?”

His laugh was quiet, dark, and indulgent. “Keep asking and I’ll cancel the rest of the week.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Caleb was seated on the couch in your penthouse’s main living space, still half in uniform, jacket unzipped, dog tags clinking softly against his chest as he typed out reports on his holopad. The sun was setting behind him, casting a warm orange glow on the glass walls. His brow was furrowed, jaw tense, purple eyes locked in deep concentration as he worked through mission debriefs.

You were sprawled across the ridiculously plush daybed in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and nothing underneath, flipping lazily through a fashion catalog without really absorbing anything.

Eventually, you sighed dramatically.

No response.

You tried again, a little louder. “Ughhh. I’m dying of boredom.”

He didn’t even look up. “I told you not to drink three espressos back-to-back.”

You rolled onto your stomach and stared at him. “Caleb.”

Still typing. “Pips.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wanna make out?”

That got his attention.

He looked up so fast it was like someone yanked a string in his spine. “What?”

You blinked at him innocently. “I’m bored. Fix it.”

He gave you that look, the one that flickered between exasperation and adoration, like he knew he was being manipulated and couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, setting the holopad aside with a sigh.

You grinned. “You love me.���

“Unfortunately for the state of my productivity…” He rose from the couch and stalked toward you, eyes dark with something hungry and amused. “I do.”

You let out a little squeak as he bent over you, caging you in with his arms.

“So this is what happens when I let you live the pampered life,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “You get clingy. Demanding. Spoiled.”

You tugged him down by the collar. “And you like it.”

His lips were on yours before you could say another word, deep, hot, utterly consuming. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for you to interrupt him all day. His dog tags clinked against your chest as he pressed his body flush to yours, one hand cradling your cheek, the other sliding under your borrowed shirt like he owned every inch of you.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he hovered over you with flushed cheeks and a crooked smirk.

“Still bored?”

“…A little.”

He grinned, wicked and boyish all at once. “Let’s see if I can fix that.”

[valyvinny]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | 18+ only

tags : porn with plot, porn with feelings, starts out with somewhat ambiguous relationship territory, developing relationship, Talking Things Out TM (communication is key!), kissing and making out, heavy petting, dry humping, couch sex, riding, missionary, creampie, use of "pip-squeak"/"pips" "baby" "princess". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 8.9k ((unedited))

an : IT'S 3 DAYS LATE… PLEASE PRETEND IT'S STILL JUNE 13 YES? YES. AKJDHGLHSDF i made the last-minute decision to keep youtiful for next week (or so…) when it's less of a focus for caleb's birthday, since i did want to write a proper birthday fic this time…… but also. this outline. underwent SEVERAL changes bc i had its first outline done before the trailer release, and it ended up being quite similar to his birthday card and i had to make adjustments somehow T^T SO this is kind of,,, i guess,,, has its similarities to no-return night, but they're not related at all, so please take this separately!

i had a lot of trepidations writing this, but nevertheless i love caleb with all of my heart and soul and he's really really so very precious to me. i hope that you can feel that through this little fic too, it's a happy birthday week to the both of us. <3 (p.s. i love this song dearly, and ever since i heard it back in january i've wanted to write a fic with it for caleb! so this was also my excuse <3 go give olivia marsh some love <3)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

What does it take to spell out eternity? Every summer you'd fall together, and maybe that was all it was—just you, and him, and the words you'd let your bodies speak instead. So tonight, in the summer heat of early June, words turned to touch; grief to grace; time-lost notes proceeded rewritten. And maybe, then, forever felt a little bit more achievable than you'd thought.

The air was thick with the scent of June.

Even the bustling streets of Linkon couldn't distract you from it—around you stood patches of freshly-mowed grass, trees standing tall along sidewalks. This month, spring would fold itself into summer. And the warm breeze that passed—curled itself through the branches, tugged playfully at loose strands of your hair—felt proof of it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Casual footsteps.

Heels on the pavement, arms swinging at your side—you walked, and you could fall into sync with the person beside you in a heartbeat.

A familiar rhythm.

It settled between you, a quiet moment amidst the small crowd surrounding. Something like an old melody; one you'd already engraved into your heart for years back.

And above you, the sky seemed to smear with orange and rose—purples, and pinks, and tangerines… The sun began to set beneath the horizon, rosy-golden hue overcast around the street you walked.

Immediately you were drawn back to look at him.

That everlasting melody that your heart murmured.

You caught the light as it reflected briefly in his eyes, the saturated speckles of sunlight dabbling in his hair. He was looking ahead, still, but those colors—in his eyes, they swirled like the sunset itself, that same warm glow. Looking at him like this, you'd think to yourself, that often the sky would come alive in them.

The sky could come alive in him.

That maybe he had become the sky itself.

Those very same colors that painted the evening would spill from his gaze, and the more you looked at him, the more you thought that you could drown—they just held so much.

So much that still, even now, you couldn't quite reach it at all.

Just like the faint sunlight slipping away at sundown; something beautiful left just out of grasp.

Lingering.

And even though you walked beside him now, you could remember that it hadn't always been that way. Now, Caleb was a lot taller. His broad shoulders cast a long shadow across the sidewalk, and you—

You remembered.

For years you'd walked behind him, head tilted up, following his lead. Watching, as he moved through the world with a quiet confidence that you'd once lacked the ability to mirror at all.

Now, the roles felt different.

You felt different, and he felt different.

And you could feel, even in this moment, beside him, the weight of this space that existed between you.

You didn't like that space.

Your fingers curled instinctively around the hem of his shirt.

No, you wanted him…

Closer.

You tugged, and he looked at you.

Eyes softened, lips curled slightly upwards.

Caleb let out an easy chuckle. "It's nice, huh?" he hummed. Whether or not he'd truly noticed the meaning behind your gesture remained unaddressed in the air around you, but you were sure he noticed. He always did. He was likely just choosing not to speak of it. "Walkin' around Linkon like this… It's like it's been forever since we've last done it. But it almost feels like nothin's changed."

Like nothing's changed.

You could feel the wry smile forming on your lips, an almost bitter laugh bubbling at your throat.

How ironic.

Certainly, both of you felt that things had changed—

Didn't you?

"You can't be serious," you huffed. "I mean, that— that movie theater we used to go to isn't even there anymore. The older one, that refused to jump on the OTTO bot train when everyone else did?"

"Oh? Yeah? Well, we haven't visited it in forever, either, y'know. Guess we couldn't have known how long it's been outta business."

"And! And, the one bakery down the block! That one's changed, too. Owner's different, and everything. And they sell, like, gluten-free donuts and more boring things now…"

He raised a brow, "What, no more of those chocolate croissants you liked so much?"

"They're different now! Changed recipe and all, you know? Changed the baker, too, probably… They never taste the same as the last time I had them… with you."

Caleb's laughter came out light and easy, and for a moment, the gap between you felt smaller.

Progress was progress.

Oftentimes spending time with him felt like a ticking time bomb; you'd never know when it would end all of a sudden, nor could you guess when he'd suddenly pull away again. Today—tonight—it was one of the very first times that hadn't happened just yet.

There had been small steps.

More of them.

The gap between you didn't feel so big anymore.

And almost as if in an attempt to finally bridge it, you continued—“Oh! And the playground? The old swings are completely gone. Replaced with those weird plastic dome things that look like modern art sculptures.”

“You mean the new climbing domes, right? They've been poppin' up in a lot of playgrounds recently. I'll say… They are a bit… odd-lookin'…”

"Exactly, right?!" You huffed, rolling your eyes. "The swings looked better. Friendlier, too! Now the playground looks all bland and devoid of life that those plastic things try to fill in with colors…"

"Aw, the kids don't like 'em? They're good for climbin'!"

"Some do… If they're like you, I guess…"

Your voice softened when you looked at him.

"…And the tree," you murmured. "The one in our backyard. You know, back… home. It would've been blooming with lots of fruit by now, if…"

Your gaze moved down.

If it were still around.

Your voice faltered, and you trailed off—the words remained hanging in the air; instead of catching them, you could only let them go in a quiet, almost embarrassed motion.

Too soon.

You didn't need to bring that up.

With a light smile, you cleared your throat, and slipped your hand out away from where you had been clinging to his sleeve.

"But, uhm… sure. Nothing's changed."

Some attempt at damage control.

You couldn't dare look up at him now, and the silence that settled now felt heavier—at least, to you.

You'd gone just another step backward.

Your hands settled in front of you, playing instead with the ribbon on your dress. It was different, from clutching at his sleeve. Already a thing you'd gotten used to, even though you'd been walking without it just a couple of minutes prior. Certainly a thing you had gotten used to, in easier years where you were always with him.

So, so many things you would get used to around him.

And now that split-second letting go of his sleeve had you trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, but how could you ever dream of hiding anything from him?

Even without a glance, you felt the pace of his footsteps beside you change slightly.

A shift, and then—

"Hey."

A gentle nudge.

He bumped your shoulder with his, like a little poke as if to get you back onto your feet. When you gathered enough courage even just to peek back at him, the warmth in his gaze seemed to curl around you like the summer breeze that sifted over you.

"'m glad you spent the day with me, pips," he said, soft and sincere. "It means a lot, y'know? Spendin' my birthday with you again."

"…Well, yeah. Again, right?"

You did gather the courage to turn.

In that moment a car passed on the other side of the street, headlights catching in the sheen of the sidewalk. A sprinkler ticked to life somewhere in the next yard over—closer, now, to the residential areas than the busier life of the heart of Linkon. Here, right now, everything smelled faintly of earth, and evening grass. There was that breeze again; picking up with a carried scent of wood.

Like a normal day.

Like an everyday sort of day.

Perhaps to anyone else, it was a day that meant very little.

Not to you.

Not to him, either.

"It's… well, not the first time. We always spend today together." You kicked at a pebble with the toe of your shoe, watching as it skittered on ahead of you.

"No," he chuckled. "It's not."

"But it feels like it."

Your voice went quieter.

A couple of steps before you paused.

He'd moved a little on ahead—caught on to the way you'd stopped walking, and turned around.

Another car.

This time it passed over on your side of the street, and— you remembered looking at him like this once, on that day.

That day.

With the unset glow; darker this time, instead illuminated extra by the headlights of the car that seemed to paint him in a cooler, more silvery glow.

You were used to seeing him in warmer colors. The sun had that very effect; oranges and reds and occasionally saturated pinks. But now he was dressed in blue—the type to wear cooler greys as to warmer browns, platinum whites to beige and cream. Sometimes his voice felt colder; sometimes that uniform on his person drowned his light into a liquid pearl you weren't used to.

The sun was also a star—but the sun was not quite the moon.

And like daytime settling into night, things could change.

You were reminded.

Things have changed.

Caleb looked at you in that moment. Falling silent, still; choosing to let your words pass.

"…It feels like it," you murmured again, quieter this time. "The first time."

Again, but the first time.

Like a culmination of years of knowing each other, and then… months of not quite.

All day, you'd moved together; two people remembering how to be near one another. Slowly, carefully. Down the street, places you used to visit, things you used to see. Laughter that felt a little bit out of practice. Laughter that had slowly begun to blend from forced, back to natural.

Things have changed, and perhaps that was the very reason you needed to relearn it.

Study the moon.

Fall into its orbit.

Again, and again, and again. As many times as it would take you.

“…I had fun,” he said after a pause, quiet and earnest. His voice was gentle, eyes melted softly.

Those strange, sunset-colored eyes of his—they caught the last of the sunlight; reminded you, achingly, of a version of him that you used to know better. But, this Caleb—dressed up in blue, standing right in front of you, one pace away out of this stupid respect for your supposed personal space—

He was still someone you wanted to learn, too.

You smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”

Above you, a streetlight buzzed quietly to life. It was back, again. Albeit artificial, there was that amber glow now on the pavement—on you—on him.

And then he tapped your forehead, took a step closer, and nudged his head in the direction beside you.

"Pip-squeak," he grinned, "look. Your gluten-free donut bakery."

Your head turned.

It was true—you hadn't realized it, but you'd stopped right in front of the bakery in question. It sat quietly on the corner, windows warm with light…

You realized, then, that though you passed this place all the time still, you'd never quite… visited. Less, since he'd started going to Skyhaven, and definitely not since what had happened at Bloomshore District.

So how long had it been, really?

You were right to think that it had changed.

The awning had gone from striped red to a soft sage green; handwritten signs replaced by sleek, branded typography.

But the bones of it were still there.

The door was still painted that dusty white; those little flowerpots still hung under the front windows.

And then, taped to the glass, was a poster—Typed out in playful print, with a little cartoon apple pie in the corner.

Apple Crumble Brioche. This weekend only!

Your eyes caught on it without realizing.

They had one on display—it was smaller, now, and not quite the kind you used to eat during summer break.

But the word apple lingered in your head like a ghost.

That was Caleb's favorite…

You heard a laugh beside you.

"Maann," he hummed, dragging the word out, "I haven't had any of their pastries in so long."

A smile tugged at your lips.

"Not that you're missing much," you rolled your eyes.

But already your smile was widening.

"M'kay, but it's still my birthday. So aren't I supposed to be spoiled a little?"

"You wouldn't be spoiled by anything from this bakery now…"

"Nuh-uh. Would be, 'cause you're right here with me, pip-squeak."

You laughed, then. Shoved his shoulder in a playful manner, before going ahead and pushing at the door. "So Colonel Caleb can be a baby, after all!"

The door gave way with a soft ring.

It quieted the banner, despite the playful looks you'd shown each other.

The bell above still had the same tinkling chime you used to know—impressive, after all these years.

And there it was again. That warmth. Fresh bread, cinnamon, sugar melting into butter... Even now it smelled like a memory that hadn’t quite forgotten you yet.

Like stepping into a well-loved painting; a well-loved book.

Something to welcome you home.

Behind the counter stood someone you didn’t recognize—young, cheerful, and definitely not the older woman with the cloud of white hair who used to sneak you extra apple pockets on rainy days. But the smile they gave was kind.

“Evening!” They said. “Let me know if you need anything!”

Everything looked cleaner now. Neater.

Even as you moved towards the counter, you took in the sight of the more professionally decorated display—elaborate presentations of cakes, and pastries, and desserts…

Behind you, you felt Caleb moving around to take in everything that he could, too.

The shelves in the back had packed croissants, cardamom buns, muffins.

You knew that despite your mourning for the more homely bakery you were used to, in the end it was still a bakery of good standard.

It still smelled a little bit like home.

With a warmth curling in your heart, you smiled at the cashier. "Two apple brioches, please," you gestured, before taking out your walled to fish for a bill.

Behind you, Caleb had paused—something on the side wall caught his eye—a corkboard tucked between the napkin station and the drink menu. A little handwritten sign above it read: Take a leaf, leave a leaf.

Papers in the shape of different colored leaves rested in a tray below, colored pens lined neatly in a box. The board itself was dotted with pinned-up notes: doodles, quotes, confessions half-lost to time.

And while you counted the change, he'd stepped over, pulled a leaf from the tray.

Quick scribbles.

When you'd turned, then, he was just straightening and pinning the note to the board with a casual flick of his hand.

You raised an eyebrow—show off.

“What was that?” You stepped closer to peer at his note, but he held his arm out and steered you out the door. "Hey!"

"Shhhh, that was my birthday wish."

"But a wish is made with candles. You made a wish today! And anyway, you're not supposed to write those down—"

With a grin, he flicked your forehead. "Eeexactly. No peekin', pips."

Perhaps he knew how to silence you.

In the next moment his hand reached down to find yours, gave it a little squeeze—

"Let's go home, pip-squeak."

You thought to yourself that you hadn't quite held him like this, not for a long, long while.

When you stepped back out onto the street, the bakery door tingled shut behind the both of you. Now, even standing out under the awning, you could see that the sky had darkened while you'd been inside. The sun was well below the horizon—dusk had given way to the evening, and in the distance, if you squinted, low clouds seemed to roll in slowly.

"Oh…" you murmured. "Do you think it's going to rain? I don't think I brought an umbrella with me…" You shifted around and rummaged through your bag, only to no avail.

The first drops hit before you'd gotten a reply.

Soft, still. Cautious, almost—as if testing the ground.

And as you peeked out from under the awning, little, sporadic drops fell on your head, dotting your hair with light greetings.

Beside you, Caleb shrugged. "We're not too far. It's probably just a drizzle."

"Guess the birthday boy gets a little bit of rain," you laughed then.

You took the pastries back from him and stuffed the little brown paper bag into your own bag—for safekeeping.

And you could pretend the drizzles weren't there.

Could still walk ahead, a few steps, cross over to the next block as the pedestrian signal turned green.

…But then the drizzle turned bolder.

A sudden scatter of drops soaked into your dress, and you let out a gasp.

"Oh, no…!"

The sky gave in completely.

Thick, heavy rain fell in sheets the next second. Testing period was over—the sky doused the pavement, and you were soaking almost immediately.

Hair, clothes—quickly they began to stick to your skin, both his and yours, and—God forbid—Caleb laughed.

"Caleb! Don't—ugh, come on! We've got to get—"

Despite your obvious indignation, he only reached over to grip your hand in his.

One more time, he seemed to say.

He had that knowing little look on his face, one that slowly, slowly turned into one with mischief and pure joy.

"Race you!"

With an aghast cry of disbelief, you allowed yourself to be dragged along with him—race, he said, yet here he was gripping your hand like a promise not to let go this time.

And you could only laugh.

He always knew how to make you laugh.

"Hey! Caleb, you dummy!"

You would shout through the rain, wet droplets splashing on at the two of you. Caleb was fast, and you were more of stumbling alongthan running. Water, puddles, flared up in arcs from your feet. It soaked through the fabric of your skirt, your socks, your collar—but you thought, nonetheless, that it felt so suddenly free.

You couldn’t remember the last time you'd run like this.

Carelessly.

Breathlessly.

Like it didn’t even matter that the two of you were drenched by now.

Caleb knew how to make you laugh.

Caleb knew how to make you feel at ease.

It was his birthday, and yet, he would still be like this with you.

Shoes slapped against wet pavement, rain streaked down your faces as you rounded the block and skidded into the shade of your apartment complex.

"S- seriously!" You half-laughed, half-panted, resting your hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

You offered a playful glare, "Warn me next time you take me for a ride, captain, geez!"

He ducked under with you, water dripping from the tip of his nose.

And all around you, the rain never seemed once to let up. It only got louder, enough to almost drown out your laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it—

It settled again, and that giddiness bubbled.

"Ugh, just— You…!" You hunched over with laughter this time, only managing to straighten just to wring out your hair. "It's like you even remember the way here better than I do!"

"Pshhh. What do you take me for, pips? 'Course I'll remember!"

He shook his hair, grinning at the incredulous squeal you'd let out at the droplets that went flicking around from him.

Wet dog, you stuck out your tongue at him.

But he followed your actions after another grin—wringing out bits of his blazer, his tie; untucked his shirt just to do the same.

And then he chuckled.

"Well, it's where you are, so I'll never forget. Even through all that downpour… I'll always know the way home, pip-squeak."

The way he said it felt warm despite the cold beginning to seep through your clothes. But, as if afraid it might once again bring you a step away from him like you had been—you didn't address it.

Instead, you responded with a playful scoff.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Colonel."

With a wave of your hand, you walked rain-soaked steps up to your door, eagerly pushing your thumb to the fingerprint system in way of getting out of your wet clothes and hopefully into much drier ones.

Indeed when the door clicked open, Caleb shouldered it wider, allowing you to step inside first. “Geez,” he muttered, still scrubbing a hand through his wet hair. “I can feel my socks squish.”

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, and you're the one who decided to drag us through the downpour. Which, happy birthday, by the way."

“Aaand, I regret nothing! 'cept maybe not waterproofing my shoes well enough. But that's another conversation.”

He moved to toe them off to the side, and you hovered by the light switch.

Ah, well, this you'd forgotten.

A second of hesitation.

You took a deep breath, and then—with fingers still a little wet against the plastic panel—you clicked it on.

Warm light spilled into the room.

Not just your living room lights, but soft string lights blinked to life. As the area lit up bathed in that amber light, it revealed strings of lights draped across windows and walls, something like lazy stars, gentle and gold, dancing almost delicately along the blankets stacked on the couch.

Balloons floated near the ceiling. Some were clustered in little groups around the corners of the room; blue, and orange, and red, and purple—Sunny Apple balloons, Sunny Apple plushies, even little Sunny Apple paper cutouts were there, too. The cutouts hung like ornaments—hand drawn, made with care… allowed a little glimpse into the innocence of childhood that you'd both spent together, all these years.

Caleb had stopped.

He'd paused, halfway through peeling off his blazer, jaw going slack. "What…"

A hint of red crept up your cheeks.

With a clear of your throat you padded barefoot across the floor, not even caring anymore as the rain still dripped from the ends of your hair. You could still feel the dress fabric clinging to your skin… but now, you couldn't care less. You barely even felt the cold anymore. Instead, your heart was beating far too loudly in your chest, and you crouched beside the couch, and—

There it was.

The real present.

A small, pearly-white box tucked carefully in the corner, wrapped up in a purple ribbon.

The color of his eyes.

"I… I know," you began, picking up the box and standing still. You couldn't dare back look at him—not now, not just yet. "I know I spent the day with you already… And, I know, that maybe I—I made it seem like that was the present."

Silence.

Not even a shuffle.

When you did turn, Caleb hadn't moved at all. Instead his eyes were fixed on you, watching you carefully, a waver of emotion in those sunset eyes of his that you found that you didn't know how to read.

Slowly you walked the few paces back to him, holding the box between your hands. "It's… I mean, that's not enough of a present. Neither is this, really. But… I wanted to give you something, even if it's small, and nothing compared to… uh…"

A wry smile; you swallowed.

The irony of being nervous in front of someone you'd known for more than half your life.

“You’ve… You've always taken care of me, Caleb. Even when you didn’t have to. Even now, after all this time. Even… Even in spite of everything. You've always been here. And you've said that you don't know, anymore, how to to take care of me like you used to, but you… You still do. You still try.”

The words trembled slightly as you spoke. And then you placed the box in his hands.

"…There's still so much you don't tell me," you said quietly, your expression softening. You watched as Caleb looked down, silently slipping the ribbon loose. "I don't know much about your missions, or the things that you have to do… Or what it's really like, out there in deepspace; even what it's really like when you fly."

The lid came off.

Inside, nestled in dark velvet, was a compass. Its face gleamed slightly in the light—simple, elegant, its needle already settling.

Caleb didn’t speak right away.

Instead he stared; a few beats. A couple moments with his gaze studying the eight-point star, before flitting back up to you.

You couldn't read him.

Even now, you thought, there was just so much you didn't know about him anymore, either.

Yet…

“…You always said I knew the way,” he murmured.

And you nodded, almost too afraid to speak in return.

He traced the needles with his thumb, carefully, gently.

"When we were kids, you… You always said you'd thought I was invincible. I had you relyin' on me the whole way, trailin' after me with those stars in your eyes. So, I'd lead the way when I could. As much as I could. I didn't… ever want those stars to go away."

The compass settled down as he reached over to rest it on a little table.

"You don't do that anymore, pips," he said softly.

And you stayed silent, allowed yourself to be gently drawn into him. Again, like always. Again, like he'd make you do.

In the back of your mind, you'd think that Caleb didn't even need his Evol, not when he was with you.

"Now you're this—this diligent, hard-workin' Hunter, best rookie Hunter of the year, and all those fancy achievements... Even made it into UNICORNS, yeah? I couldn't be more proud of you. Just…"

He rest his hands on your waist, pulled you closer just to rest his forehead against yours.

"You're right," he whispered. "Things're different now. All these things keep pullin' us further and further apart… It's like today's the only day we got to be like this. Where things felt like they used to. So when did heaven, and earth start… feelin' so far? When did you become someone I don't have to take care of anymore? When did you become someone I had to let go?"

The weight of his words settled.

In the end, he'd been feeling the same things you did.

"'m not as invincible as you think I am. I can't even accept that you don't look at me like you used to… Isn't that pathetic? Those stars in your eyes were ones I couldn't protect, and I keep messin' up, havin' to—to try to make things right again. But… how am I supposed to do that? I don't know a lot of things either, pip-squeak… All I want is to be by your side."

"Caleb…"

"Only reason I don't drift off into space is 'cause the only home I have's with you. Only reason I come back is 'cause I know you're waitin' for me back on the ground."

Your eyes closed.

Well, through the downpour and morning dew… you're the one I don't want to lose.

"…I'm still here, Caleb…" you murmured. "I'm not going to go flying off without you. I don't want to."

It wasn't even that the hug was particularly comfortable.

Wet fabric against wet skin—he felt cold. Cold, and wet, and—you could pull away.

But he rest his chin on the top of your head, and it was the warmest that you'd ever been.

"You're my home, too, you know." You nuzzled against him, smiled softly even though he wouldn't see it. "So this compass… was me hoping that I'd be yours. If navigation knows only forward motion…"

"…When I'm by you side, I just want to stay still."

You laughed, muffled against his chest. "Yeah. One of your silly quotes."

"Well… When you think about it, you're the only compass I'd ever need anyway, guidin' me back home the way you do." He smiled into your hair—you felt it—before he pulled back a little.

Looked at you properly.

Sunset eyes locked onto your own.

And slowly he reached—brought the necklace back up between your lips, leaned in to share a chaste kiss.

"Maybe this is just a promise," he murmured. "You ground me, pip-squeak. And fate has always guided me back to you… So maybe, yours is the gravity I can never resist. One that I never even plan to."

"My sun?" you laughed softly, "pulled into my orbit?"

"Mm, welll, I think I've only ever reflected the light you shine. Soooo maybe you're the sun. Or the earth. My world, isn't it? That'll fit, too."

"…You're silly."

"Heh. Don't like it?"

"Mn, I've never not liked it."

The necklace fell as you giggled, and your lips brushed together gently.

"You know… I don't know if I can believe in forever," he said, then. "But… Just this moment, here, with you… I want to believe in an eternity with you."

"So let's call it." Your eyelashes fluttered against his. "From this day onward… Caleb, you are my eternity."

And this time, this promise was sealed with a kiss.

Warm.

Steady.

So achingly gentle, it made your breath catch.

And it was a kiss that cradled the very weight of everything you'd shared before this, and everything else that you hadn't dared to speak out loud until this moment. It was a kiss that spoke for you. A kiss that said—thank you. I promise that, too.

So you kissed him back, leaned into him. You felt the way your breath trembled as you did—your hands rose, shaking, pressing lightly into his chest. And it was like breaking the surface, after holding your breath for all these years.

Your fingers fisted, curled, into the fabric of his shirt. Your own anchor. Something to steady you, keep you grounded, remind you no less that despite the weightlessness of this moment, it was still real.

The room faded.

The lights, the windows, the rain…

In this moment, it was just you, and him, and a shared sense of a promised beginning.

When he pulled back, his hands still remained curled at your waist. You noticed the flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes had gone all lidded—glassy, a little bit dazed. And despite the soft, breathless laugh that spilled from your lips, you didn't want to pull away.

You didn't even dare to.

Instead your gaze flitted back down to his lips, watched as the corner of his mouth twitched into a little hint of a smirk.

Caleb tilted his head.

Testing.

And his nose brushed once again against yours, and—

"Mmph—!"

He swallowed your gasp with yet another kiss; this time not as soft, not as sweet.

Hungry.

As if that moment had given him all he'd needed to let loose.

Despite your widened eyes, you willed yourself to breathe, melting like putty immediately in his arms. They'd flutter closed as he pulled you tighter, closer. And your hands slid up his chest, over the soaked fabric of his shirt, clutched at the fabric for yet another reminder of the reality of what was happening.

It was wet, and messy.

Open-mouthed, breathless—you made a noise at the back of your throat, something like a whimper, something like relief, something like—yes, this. More of this.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest.

What had started with a simple kiss had escalated into the intensity he'd pour into you—an intensity you reciprocated; an intensity you dared give back to him, so much so that you couldn't ever think to protest when his hand came up to cup your jaw.

His lips moved fiercely; he continued to press into you.

One step back.

Then another.

Not away from each other, but—towards.

And as the kiss deepened, the backs of your knees hit the couch. It was the only thing that could have made you part—you both toppled over in a tangle of limbs and damp clothing, couch cushions giving beneath you. He landed beneath you—blinking up with a startled look that shone through despite the redness that had reached his cheeks, a little huff of laughter falling at your own lips.

"Geez…" you breathed, one palm flat again on his chest, the other bracing yourself beside his head. “That was graceful.”

Not necessarily addressing the kiss; not necessarily rejecting it.

Instead, you watched as his hands slid along your hips, that smirk of his returning to his features. "Fate ordained it," he hummed. "But I feel like I want to be the greedy birthday celebrant that I am this time."

"Good."

You leaned back down, took a moment to caress his cheek. "You should be greedier with me, Caleb."

His lips against yours were searing.

That hunger was still there.

Fast, and deep, and passionate…

It turned heedy. Open mouths crashing together, again and again.

Soft groans built between sharp breaths and wet noises; there was no need for air, not when you could breathe him instead.

And instinctively, needy—your hips shifted, the gasp between you swallowed into another kiss.

Caleb's hold on your waist tightened. Not to stop you, but to guide.

And that was all the mutual invitation that both of you needed.

Slowly, teasingly, rocking still—you felt him hardening beneath you, felt your own body pulsing in response. You felt a tingle down at your core, already sensitive from the friction of your wet clothes and all this pent-up tension between you. The fabric felt hot, and soaked, and maddening—and even pulling away from him just to breathe took all your effort, and even then you couldn't stop.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice rough and buried against your shoulder. “You can’t move like that and expect me to stay sane, pip-squeak...”

“Oh?” You deliberately moved, eyebrow raised, letting the friction drag right across your clit through the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. A smirk was laced in your voice. “But I thought you liked this?"

His only answer was a strangled sound—half laugh, half moan.

And then he bucked up into you.

Retaliation, perhaps.

Your head tipped back at the sensation, hips meeting his in a frantic rhythm that neither of you were controlling anymore. Your breath hitched each time the ridge of his cock rubbed against you, perfectly caught between the angle of his body and the damp cling of your panties—It was raw.

Desperate.

Each roll of your hips sparked heat in your belly that coiled tighter, and tighter, and tighter, and tighter…

“P-pip-squeak,” he groaned, breath catching against your neck. "You’re damn wet, h-holy...”

You rest your forehead against his, breath coming out in tiny puffs from exertion. "…So are you," you laughed. "We were… ah… We were out in the rai—nnh…"

“Not what I meant.”

Immediately your rhythm grew frantic. Slow grinding turned into more abrupt, hard rolls, the shape of his cock slotting nicely between the outline of your cunt. Your thighs tightened around his waist; his hands slid eagerly down to cup your ass and press you closer.

Caleb had never held you like this becore.

But even now, you looked at him—violet-orange eyes turned a darker twilight from sundown… and he had so much desire in him that you could simply melt.

Sparks shot up through your spine.

Your moans grew louder; swallowed either by his mouth that demanded more, or left completely to echo in your room as you arched your back.

"God, you're so fucking hot, pips," he murmured. This was a lower tone you were far less used to hearing, but it wasn't condescending. It wasn't cold.

It was hot, and searing, and you could only let out a groan of your own.

And eventually your soaked dress became far too much—

You sat up slightly, panting, straddling him still with your own flushed cheeks and unsteady hands.

You lifted your hips—started with the hem of your dress, slowly peeled it upwards.

And then off.

Immediately, Caleb's hands followed.

In heated silence his gaze trained over your body, thumbs brushing reverently along the skin as your dress was thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room. In the next second your bra unclasped, and your panties kicked off, both to join your dress without any more care for being organized.

Because none of that mattered.

Not at all mattered.

What mattered, now, was what was in front of you— all manner of love, and desire, and reverence, all in one gaze. All in the way he would linger, taking in every inch of you with a sweep of his eyes.

All in the way he would speak. Barely a whisper.

But still, enough to make you clench almost pathetically over nothing.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do right now,” he murmured. “You’re… stunning.”

You felt your heart skip a beat—a couple, before accelerating, bringing an undeniable heat rushing all throughout your body in that moment.

"Then… let me see you, too."

You tugged at his wet shirt, nails scraping lightly at his chest. The motion had him groaning, bucking his hips—his cock strained hard through his pants, grinding against the damp press of your now-bare pussy. The friction of his clothing hitting directly on your folds and had your thighs shaking, Caleb's hands moving up and down over them, eyes now glued to your breasts that hung right in front of him.

It was a reverent sort of scramble.

A struggle to stop, if only for a moment, just to bare your bodies to one another, just to finally, finally be free and vulnerable and real.

Wet fabric slapped to the floor.

No more barriers.

Full of desire.

You pushed him back against the couch cushions, climbed into his lap with slow, sure movements. Immediately your pussy slid over the heavy bulge of his cock, bare, and raw, and skin-to-skin, a place where it belonged and simply felt oh-so-fucking-good.

You gripped his jaw, kissed him hard, and then began to grind—slow, and hard, and so sweetly filthy.

But never as delicious as the sound of his own moans.

"Ah-shit—ah! Y-you're killin' me, baby—"

The new nickname had you jolting.

And he would pull you back down into another kiss—he rocked back against you, groaned into your mouth, hands rubbing over from your ass, to your hips, to the sides of your chests, and back down again—

So delicious.

Your clit caught every motion. The air was thick with the sound of wet skin, of uneven breathing, of whimpers and his whispered curses. His cock throbbed desperately, trapped against your heat, teased by the plush drag of your weeping cunt.

It wasn't enough.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “M'gonna lose it like this, you're so damn perfect…"

You shook your head. "No… Not yet," you panted. You leaned in, teeth teeth grazing that tender spot just below his ear. “I want you inside.”

He didn't speak, then.

Just a flash of something darker in his eyes, and then he lifted you slightly—

Flushed and heavy, your eyes were drawn to his length, watching with a wildly beating heart as he guided you over the head of it.

No rush.

Just the tip, first.

You couldn't resist swirling your hips a little, easing the red tip right into your hole—

"Fuckkkk, yes— Take it deeper, baby…"

Your eyes shot up to meet Caleb's, your own lips parted in disbelief.

His moans were so fucking pretty.

You didn't want to wait any more, either.

The stretch made you moan.

Slowly you sank down, pussy fluttering as you took him inch, by inch, every vein and every ridge burning itself into your memory. Your thighs trembled against his hips—he buried his face into your shoulder, breathing hotly against your skin, fingers grapsing at your ass as he fought to stay still.

"Mmnh… Caleb…" you moaned. Your hands gripped his shoulders then, nails practically digging in enough to earn a moan of his own.

He was just so big.

The fullness of him made your hips stutter. Your eyes rolled back into your head.

“Shit, shit,” you grit your teeth. “You’re… fuck, you’re stretching me so much—”

“I know, pips,” he breathed, shaky. “And you’re doin so, so good. You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He was throbbing inside you, pulsing against your most sensitive places. You felt every twitch. Every heartbeat.

And then your hips met.

You were shaking—he was all the way in.

Your hands trembled, chest rising and falling in strained breath, trying to adjust to his fill.

It burned, but it felt heavenly.

He was right.

“You okay?” he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek, your temple, your jaw.

You nodded, swallowed hard. “I just… didn’t know I could feel this full,” you laughed, a little breathlessly. “It’s a lot.”

"But not too much, right, princess? I mean, look at you, so full of me…"

A lazy grin formed on his face, then.

He'd nudged you a little, all so his eyes could rake over you seated over his cock like this. A low whistle escaped from his lips, and his hand snaked over to rest on your stomach. "So, so full of me."

He leaned back up for a moment—

"Move for me, baby."

And it was as if you'd been waiting for such a command.

So you did as he'd asked.

A gentle roll of your hips, first.

"Fuck—! Ngh—!"

The first movement had him falling back to the cushions, giving you more of that delicious delicious moan, and your breath hitched.

There was a light whimper on your lips; the stretch of him still sent aftershocks down your spine, every inch of him rubbing places inside you that made your toes curl—

But you needed more. You really, really needed more.

Again.

And again.

And—

You rocked against him in a slow, tender rhythm; every downward push a sigh, every lift of your hips a gasp. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you steady, guiding you…

And he wouldn't look away from you.

Dizzy eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure—his hair, wet from the rain and from sweat, stuck to his hair, and the way he gazed at you was so lustful and so loving all at once that the coil in your stomach stirred.

"So fuckin' pretty," he drawled, soothingly rubbing into your waist. "Look at you go, pips… Takin' my cock so damn well…"

The slick sound of your bodies filled the space between you. Your arousal coated his length, clenching with every curse that spilled from his lips. You moaned, helplessly, almost, as your hips began to pick up the pace.

"Caleb… Caleb, feels s'good…!"

"Mhm… Yeah, you like it, baby? Feels good, huh? You're damn perfect, princess, made for me."

You near-collapsed. Palms on either side of his body, breath coming out in pants, hips moving up, and down, and up, and down—

His lips found your neck. Your jaw, your cheek.

“Drivin' me insane, pretty baby” he groaned. “Every fuckin' move you make…"

He thrust up into you.

"Caleb—!"

You cried out in pleasure, your movements syncing with the pace of his thrusts.

"That's it, baby… C'mon, c'mon— Fuck, pips—!"

You moaned into his mouth, and your rhythm stuttered, but didn’t stop. You moved above him, caught in that rising, desperate tide, the drag of him hit right where you needed, feeling cock along all your tender places with every roll—

His head tipped back against the couch cushion.

His throat bared; a broken moan escaped him so wonderfully.

“God—fuck, I’m close!" he gasped. His fingers trembled where they held you. “I can’t—baby, I can’t hold it back anymore, I need… fuck—need more than this… Please, lemme have all of you—"

His voice cracked with it, the need, the want.

And you could tell that there was more.

This wasn't about just sex—the way he looked at you held something deep something intense; he wanted you.

And you felt wanted.

You leaned forward, flushed and panting, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then don’t hold back,” you whispered. “Take all of it. All of me. Use me."

In that moment, you felt it.

He didn't lunge.

Instead, his body froze. A slight, strangled sound escaped his throat—

"Don't… don't say that…"

You paused.

A frown.

His eyes—those bruised-purple, tangerine-flecked eyes—met yours with a kind of haunted sorrow that you wouldn't have expected out of him.

"Caleb…?" you reached a hand out to push his bangs out of his face. "That's not— I didn't mean…"

“No, I… I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m takin' somethin' from you,” he shook his head. Whispered, pleadingly.

And still your bodies were joined, throbbing, waiting—but his hands had gentled, and his gaze searched yours like it ached to be understood.

"Caleb… You're not using me… I…"

"…But how do you know?" he frowned. "If you say it like that, pips, I… I've already taken so much from you."

"What? No, you haven't—"

"Do you really think so? All this time? I told you, I don't know how to take care of you anymore. All these wrong things I keep throwin' around, and you'd still fall back into my arms after a few coddles 'cause that's what I know to do to bring you back…"

"Stop! That's not—"

"I need you so badly, and I keep givin' in to that, pips. Keep thinkin' what if I’m only hurting you by loving you like this? Do you think I don't know? You're just too used to me to—"

"Caleb!"

You shouted his name, frowning, looming over him as your hands gripped his shoulders.

He'd stopped his rambling, but he still spoke.

Again.

A quieter voice.

"…Do I even deserve you, pip-squeak?" he murmured.

And that was the last straw.

You reached for his face, palms warm and trembling where they cupped his cheeks. His lashes were wet. He looked undone.

And you wanted him to stop saying those things.

“Shut up, birthday boy,” you hissed. "And let me fucking love you."

Fiercer.

Your mouth crashed against his for the nth time that day, willing, insisting, to press your answer into him without needing to speak it. Your hands framed his face gripping something so precious, so precious—

And when you pulled away, you glared determinedly as you touched your forehead to his.

Your breaths mingled.

His lips were wet—kiss-swollen.

And your hips moved once, twice… Slow and grounding, and he groaned.

Your hands down to his wrists. Guided them back to your hips.

"…Don't say such things," you murmured. "I mean it, Caleb. You can do with me whatever you want. But you’re not taking anything I’m not already giving you.”

He stared at you, lips parted, half in sheer disbelief.

"…I've been too much," he frowned.

"No, you haven't. You're not."

"…And this is… really what you want?"

"It's always been."

A pause, and your eyes softened. "Do you trust me?" you whispered.

A nod.

“Then I want you to take me, Caleb. I am yours. It's my choice to give you this much. I choose you."

And you watched as he swallowed, looked into your eyes one last time—

He flipped you.

Your back hit the cushions with a soft thump and he settled between your legs, the tip of his cock swollen and poised back at your folds.

His chest heaved.

His hands, placed on either side of your head to brace himself, were gripping the couch so tightly.

His control was slipping, yet he would fight so hard to keep it in.

"Aren't you scared of me?" he said quietly.

And you smiled.

You reached up, brushing damp hair from his forehead, cupped his face again.

He needed an anchor.

You would be one, for him.

"You're too high up in the sky, Caleb," you shook your head gently. "You need to come back down… to me. Me, who's always been waiting for you. Me, who's always loved you. All this time, every moment. I could never be scared of you, Caleb."

Your hands moved, wrapped around his neck, tugged him down closer.

"So fuck me."

And the strings snapped loose.

One thrust—your body had gotten used to him, welcomed him greedily as he sank his length deep inside you.

"Oh—fffuuuckk—pips, baby, shit—"

The angle was different like this.

More curses and moans strung from Caleb's lips as he buried himself to the hilt, and you yourself groaned from the intrusion, eyes immediately rolling back into your head just like earlier.

You could get addicted to this.

"Yes… Yes! Just like that, Caleb…!"

You clung to him, nails scraping lightly down his back.

And this time, you knew he wasn't holding back at all.

Low grunts were punctuated by sharp, harsh thrusts, driving you into the cushions, echoing the obscene sounds of his cock dragging in and out of your dripping hole.

You could feel it—every vein along his length, burning into you like home—the twitch, of his need, pulsing inside you enough to make you dizzy.

Your walls clenched—pulling him deeper, deeper.

It was driving you insane.

"G-god…!" He choked, moaning against your lips as your foreheads pressed together.

The pace of his hips didn't relent.

"You feel so—haah—so fuckin' good, n'wet, you’re— you're pullin' me in—! Fuck, baby, you’re made for this—!”

"Mmh'all yours, Caleb, was made just for yo—uugh—haah! H-harder—!"

Absolutely insane.

Your thighs trembled around his hips, as he held you open, begging, writhing, under the force of how well he'd ruin you.

And you would let him.

You did let him.

"Harder, harder—!"

Caleb hissed as he pushed deeper, driving his cock into you with a wet, thick sound that made both of you moan.

His pace built—whatever you wished—and his hips slapped against you needy rhythm, your body bouncing slightly beneath him with each thrust.

Frantic, your hands gripped his back, then slid upward to tangle in his hair, then down again—once more, your nails raking hard enough to leave proof of everything.

"H-hnghh—ah—! Cal-e— C-Cal—!"

"Mmm, that's a good, good girl f'me—haah—such a good princess, fuck— pussy's milkin' me, baby, you're gonna make me cum like this!”

Moaning loudly, you arched into him. "Yes, yes! Wanna feel it! Wanna feel you so deep—" With his hips angled perfectly, you felt the tip of his cock nudge your g-spot, and you cried out. "Caleb!"

“Fuckin' hell, say my name like that again, pip-squeak."

And he slammed into you, taking the way you desperately continued to claw at his back.

Just one more thrust, and then you caved.

"Caleb! Caleb…!"

Crying out his name in messy sobs, your back arched, and you trembled—spasmed—gripped him for all that you could. "I'm… c-cumming…!"

His hips stuttered, moans getting higher, the sound of your own cries like a catalyst to his release.

“Fuck!” he gasped, voice breaking. “Me too, pips— I’m gonna— I-I can’t—!"

“Yes—yes—yes!"

You wept, drawing him in, begging for him. "Cum in me. Please, please, I need it—need you to—!"

He crashed into you, burying his face into your neck with a loud cry.

"F-fuck! Baby, princess…!"

Nicknames, pet names, words blurred into sounds of your name.

His cock pulsed hard inside you as he emptied himself, long hot ropes of cum and every twitch and throb leaving you shaking.

"C-Caleb…" you gasped, crying still, tears stinging your eyes from the intensity of your coupling. "Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb…"

His whole body trembled above you, his back taut under your hands, his face pressed hard into the crook of your neck like he could disappear inside you.

"M'here, pips," be mumbled. "I'm right here. Right here… Attagirl, now…"

So gentle, his words, and yet the slick between you was so filthy.

That slick wet noise of your joined bodies, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you clenched him in deeper, holding every drop… This way, his cum stayed in deep. Thick, and warm... Like it belonged there.

Like he belonged there.

In your heart, you knew that he did.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, that stupid, stupid grin on his face that made you pout. "I think you just entirely rewired me," he laughed breathlessly.

You made a face, smacked his arm lightly. "Well, good."

And your eyes softened. Took in the sight of him, wet with sweat and water, and all these messy things… Yet still, he smelled like rain, and skin, and a heat that was entirely just him.

He smelled like home.

And you loved him—God, you loved him.

He caught your gaze, and smiled.

"…Hey, pips?" he murmured.

"Mh?"

"D'you believe in forever?"

You shifted, tilting your head to look at him properly. "Well… you don't, right?" you said slowly.

"…I want to, though."

So you chuckled."Then, I want to, too."

"So… we do, then."

"We do."

You nodded, snuggled into him, kissed his chest. "Maybe, we just… have to be the authors of our own story. Say that we will have forever. And things, like… how forever feels like… this. In your arms. Here."

You heard a quiet yawn.

"Forever must be perfect then, huh?" he sighed.

"Mn… I think that it could be."

You poked him lightly. "So what'd you wish for?"

Caleb didn't answer immediately. For a moment there was a silence, and then came a soft laugh.

"You, 'course. And that no matter what happens, I'll always know my way back home to you, pip-squeak."

The thunder outside was as loud as this moment with him was quiet.

"…Happy birthday, Caleb."

an : i know the moon imagery might be like. a stretch. but oh my god. like. i find it so interesting the possible analogies that could be used to describe it and settled on the moon wkjhkghkdjfg something something how the moon falls into the earth's gravity? something something the light of the moon is only reflected from the sun??? like it FEELS so caleb to me ok WKJHKJGDS anyway i hope if you've read this far that you've enjoyed it! <3 not as much of a caleb character study as i wanted it to be, but i guess it's as close as i could count without going insane- at 9k this was already a lot im CRYING.... caleb i hope you know that you are so loved... and i hope that for any of you reading this you can feel that he's loved through this as well <3 once again !! happy birth week to us <3 and happy gemini season!

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

taglist : @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @rafayelsheart @love-and-deepstrays @pikachuzhc @strwbrychffoncke @darlingdummycassandra @azuremoonss @valyvinny @jellyroom2 @theanbitchless @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @xai-mery @raiyuxa @keymeadoww @rowazuhime15 @nezuswritingdesk @cordidy @chomichomas @xaviersknight

(++ extra tags for @starmocha and @deepspacenova... I HOPE U DONT MIND... this is me saying i love u ty for getting me through this fic via moral support LMAOOO)

[valyvinny]

@2_MA_TO on X/Twitter

[valyvinny]

nobody has been there for me like the ‘x reader’ tag has been there for me

[valyvinny]

idk i made these in february

[valyvinny]

It's a toy boat! >.<

[valyvinny]

His little green apple got bullied and he immediately went to Mother Hen Mode 🍏🍏🍏

[valyvinny]

how am i supposed to be normal

[valyvinny]

I hate the met galla. None of those people are important to me. My horsey is important to me.

[valyvinny]

I am at my happiest in this generation

[valyvinny]

It is fantastic!

[valyvinny]

I like to think that before the world got mean, John and Arthur would goof around and act like brothers

[valyvinny]

Tears of the Kingdom 💧

[valyvinny]

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it’s a soft morning with bob, until he needs you.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bob reynolds x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni) , porn with little plot, cute shower antics/fluff at the beginning, yearning & needy bob, switch!bob, breast sucking, making out, hair pulling, bob’s praise kink, spit kink, unprotected p in v sex, missionary position, breeding kink, overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie. this fic is filthy.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wrote this on a whim because I’ve been missing bob a lot (and I was freaked up ngl). not gonna apologize for how freaky this is. anyway. i hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Loving Bob is easy — it’s gentle, clean.

It’s the sort of love that murmurs from your heart, calling his name, a song that you continue to loop somewhere in the recesses of your mind.

There’s a safety you find within him, even through the darkness he keeps caged, a warmth that reminds you of a thousand splendid suns. A shared sanctuary; he finds it in you, too.

At the root of your relationship, it’s two hearts, craving to touch, craving one another, intertwined. It’s built upon an initial friendship that had spiraled into something more, something warm.

He’s attentive, compassionate, selfless — for his numerous qualities, you find yourself infinitely grateful for him, for how lucky you are to have a partner as good as he is. Bob has a wonderful heart, and despite his past, it’s still just as good.

You think about him often, especially when you first wake up, left smiling to yourself at the thought of how much you adored him. It left a lightness in your heart, one that you hadn’t experienced in years.

Within the gentle hours of morning, you feel the sparse indenture beside you, the bed left empty where he’d slept. It wasn’t common to find him absent, a twinge of concern sinking into your chest.

Swallowing the thickness present within your throat, you turned, listening to the gentle trickle of water from the shower. Relief followed soon after, inclined to follow the sound.

Dawn’s first sigh whispered through tinted window panes, slivers of an ember-orange pooling over the foot of your bed, passing over marble floors. It struck beside your head, causing you to tilt away from the glow.

It spread over the skies with tendrils of vibrancy, veiled through darkened glass. Twilight began to dissipate, with not an ounce of haste, dismal darkness giving way to violet, the celestials clinging to the horizon.

In a gentle clamor, you slither from your bed, still ensnared in a haze of half-sleep as you make for the bathroom. Nudging the door aside, you make your presence known with a stirring of your throat and a yawn.

“Morning, Bob,” Stretching, you can see him somewhat through the fogged pane of glass, and he perks up, even then. “Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, a lazy smile molding to your features as the shower door creaks open.

He’s there, soap still lathered into his crown, flushed and pink, musculature glistening as if he’s spent entirely too long marinating beneath the water. “Hi,” He greets, smiling when he sees you. “Oh, ah — Yeah, come inside.”

Bob’s brows furrow when he realizes how strange that sounded, countenance one of mild embarrassment. Nevertheless, he shuffles over to make room for you, throat thick as he swallows the sudden swell of excitement.

The nakedness is something you’re more accustomed to by now, having been together for several months. Though, whenever he sees you, it’s like the first time all over again — you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Undressing, you’re shedding your clothes outside of the shower door, kicking the remnants of your underwear aside. Steam floats in tepid wisps, clinging to the mirror, coating the bathroom in a humid haze.

Once inside, streams of hot water splash over your skin, body brushing against his. It sends a muted buzz through your spine, running a hand over your face as you reach for your shampoo.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, tone saturated with an amiable warmth. Bob is often one to inquire about your wellbeing, and he’s attentive when he does, gaze trailing over your visage.

“Good,” With a soft hum, you feel his hands ghost over your spine, the gesture fleeting, enough to make you shiver. “What about you?”

It’s idle conversation, affectionate murmurs spoken through the haze of the shower. Bob stepped back beneath the spout, water cascading through soap-laden tresses.

“Fine,” Lashes kissed the skin beneath his eyes, washing the existing suds from his scalp. Spitting water aside, Bob cleared his throat. “Sorry for not waiting on you. You looked so pretty, I didn’t want to wake you.” He murmured, smitten.

Through a tender smile, you dismiss his apology, gazing up at him, mesmerized. He’s so handsome — pretty when he’s doing anything and everything. “It’s okay,” You mused, nose wrinkling. “I think I needed the rest.”

Relaxation was crucial for you in the downtime between missions, and you were appreciative that Bob had let you sleep for a little while longer.

His countenance softened, lingering on the curve of your mouth, over the bridge of your nose. He soaked you in as you splashed water over your body, droplets rolling over your chin.

Sluggishly, Bob dips down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips, reluctant to pull away; thankfully, you’re eager to tilt inward, reciprocating. It’s sweet, gentle — you often feel a sense of comfort, never uneasy whenever he kisses you.

Warm water sticks to your crown, tresses glued to your skull as you run a palm over his bicep, feeling goosebumps beneath your fingertips.

Bob only draws away when you’re reaching for the soap, hoping to clean up. He’s gentle, digits tracing along your spine, gooseflesh spreading like wildfire over your flesh.

Steam ripples over his musculature, wisping through the taut grooves of his abdomen, over broad, freckled shoulders. Content, he seems more relaxed than usual, drawing patterns into the small of your back.

“I can do it,” Bob offers, gentle yet pitched with a twinge of nervousness. “I’m happy to do it for you.” He perks up when you offer him the shampoo bottle with a smile, seemingly receptive to the idea.

“I’d like that,” Through an idle hum, you stand in front of him, partially shielded from the barrage of water, patient as ever. “Thank you.”

Fingers massage over your scalp with a disarming gentleness, handling you with a care that you’d grown intimately acquainted with. Eyes flutter shut as you relax beneath his touch, letting him lather soap into your crown.

Any initial distance becomes thin, swallowed by the closeness of bodies, his chest brushing against your back. A subtle hitch forms within your throat, a pang of excitement, but you keep yourself docile.

His embrace is kind; it makes you feel coveted, seen in a way that transcends everything else. Bob is focused on the task at-hand, dark-blue hues fluttering across your physique, drinking in every detail, committing it all to memory.

Digits rake over the base of your skull, working in the shampoo with ease, satisfied with his handiwork. “Here,” He awkwardly shuffles aside, and you jolt when you feel his cock brush your backside. “I’ll let you finish.”

Admittedly, the brief embrace sends electricity through your veins, scorched by want, but you’re unwilling to ruin the moment.

Rinsing the shampoo from your hair, soapy remnants and all, Bob quietly appraises you from where he stands, jaw slack, his visage blotched with a bright shade of rose. Water rolls over your chest, down your navel, lower.

Some sliver of him gnaws with desire, but he’s never been good with asking. Instead, he resorts to ogling you as if you’re the sun itself, warm and glittering.

His lungs fill with sweetness whenever he’s near you, tender gaze following every dip, every curve of your body, as if you’re a river worth wading through. He’s clean, content to watch, only looking away when your eyes flutter open.

Scrubbing the last of the product from your tresses, you give yourself one final rinse, body washed clean, prepared to start your day. “Finished?” You asked, hand hovering over the switch.

“Yeah.” Bob speaks as if he’s clawing for air, chest burning from the sight of you, tongue absentmindedly wetting his bottom lip.

As the shower fizzles to a crawl, he steps out, steam clinging to him. You follow suit, towel dragging over your warm flesh, collecting any bit of water left behind.

In a similar fashion, you’re watching him, tendrils of warmth snaking over the back of your neck, damp tresses disheveled around you. He’s beautiful, handsome in a way that makes your knees wobble, heartbeat pounding away.

“You okay?” The innocuous nature of your question leaves Bob flustered, even still. With a towel slung low around his hips, there’s little left to the imagination — and your thoughts are rampant.

He nods, lashes flitting, lips pulled agape as he marvels at you, the difference in height more apparent now, in the rawness of things. “You’re so beautiful,” Bob utters, awestruck. “It’s mesmerizing.”

The sincerity of his compliment makes you preen, a smile creeping onto your features. He’s called you beautiful a thousand times — this one carries weight, as if he’s reminding himself that you’re real, that what you have together is real.

“Mesmerizing?” Echoing his statement, you do little to suppress the sheepish smile that curls at the corners of your mouth. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” You muse, reluctant to accept the compliment.

Bob stares, visage tinged with scarlet, throat thick; he swallows and steels himself, hand reaching to cup your jaw. “You should hear it more often.” He concedes, tone disarmingly low, enough to make you shiver.

Whenever he wants something, he gets this way; a little flirtatious, still attempting to formulate his own wants into words. Sometimes he feels undeserving, but you know that isn’t true, and so does he.

Something charged splinters the air, desire thinly-veiled, want echoing in his eyes, screaming. Emboldened, he initiates this time, dipping dangerously close, eyes flickering over your mouth.

As his large palm cradles the delicate slope of your face, you’re drifting closer, body bundled in a towel, standing flush against him. A slight hitch forms within the bottom of his throat, and it’s his turn to become bashful.

“You think so?” You hum, tone warping into something sweet, desirous. Bob gawks, shuddering when your hands splay flat over his ribs, tracing circles into his abdomen.

With a lackadaisical nod, he’s getting flustered, soothed by the caresses lavished to his skin. You’re still smiling, nails ghosting over his flesh, goosebumps erupting in the wake of it.

The distance is closed by the both of you, dipping halfway, meeting in the middle. Mouths connect in a sudden flurry of passion, and you can taste the desperation on his tongue, even then.

He is a chiseled adonis, and you can’t help but marvel at him as if he’s molded from marble, made flesh and blood beneath your hands.

Bob kisses you as if he’s racing against time, digits flexing over the nape of your neck. A sharp exhale stings his lungs, pushing through his nose as you press closer; the towel tempts him, able to be ripped apart with ease.

The crass knot of fantasies that jump around within his brain makes him blush, neediness unfurling from deep within his stomach, his bones.

All it took was one glimpse of you, kissed by dawn, visibly enamored with him — and he collapsed.

Lips carry on, eager; you’re kissing him with an overwhelming sweetness, fingertips tracing upwards until they’re hooked beneath his arms. He shivers, holding steadfastly to your jaw, thumbs circling your cheeks.

Stirring against your navel, his cock strains beneath the fabric of his towel, prompting you to gasp whilst kissing him. It snares between lips, and he immediately slows to a crawl, doing little to mask his embarrassment.

“Sorry, m’sorry.” Bob mumbles, flesh hot with embarrassment as it ripples through him in waves. Neediness follows suit, a gnawing desire to hold you, root himself inside of you.

Burying his face within the crook of your shoulder, his breath emerges in warm, winded sighs, hips ghosting over yours. The friction simmers within your blood, a jolt of electricity that sets your nerves ablaze.

“It’s okay,” Soothingly, your nails lightly grace the muscle of his abdomen, stroking in circular motions as you keen into his embrace. He cages you in, nose tickling your throat, lips sealing to your jugular. “Bob.”

His name is sharp as it spills from your mouth, pitched with a twinge of exhilaration. Hushed, he lavishes kisses over your neck, open-mouthed and wet, groin grinding haplessly into your own.

Even the towel does little to veil his obvious erection, and you can taste the urgency as his hands mold themselves to your hips.

Pathetically, he ruts into you, grinding bodies tangled into an amalgamation of limbs, and he’s still huffing, noises tapering off into a whimper. “Need you,” He pants wantonly. “Please — I want to be inside of you.”

Hunger reveals itself viscerally, and Bob falls victim to his own baser instincts, stomach pulled taut into a coil of excitable heat.

He’s always been one to yearn silently, wanting you in hushed gaps and longing glances, but this time, his desire is screaming. Bob isn’t particularly good at being blunt about what he wants, but this time, he takes action.

Arousal pools between your thighs at his confession, sending tingles of bliss throughout your body. Fingers hook into your towel as you peel it away, a shiver gripping your spine when you press closer.

Pupils dilate, expanding with black as he traces the shape of your physique, breath hitching within his throat. “So pretty.” He sighs, reverent as he feels your hand close around his wrist.

Guiding his hand to the warmth coalescing along your cunt fills his brain with static, a violent hum that only rouses his desire further. Two fingers find the heat present over your cunt, swiping over weeping folds.

“That’s what you do to me,” The whisper that leaves your tongue is enough to offset his balance, heady — your stomach gnaws with heat. “That’s all for you.” Tempting him further, he pushes a sharp exhale through his nose.

“For me,” Bob repeats, tone tapering off into a pitiful half-whine. There’s a sense of guilt he feels, undeserving of you, but when your hips push into his fingers, it proves a worthwhile distraction. “God, you’re so — so beautiful, you’re mine.”

The sudden claim of possessiveness stuns you, but it isn’t unwelcome; you like it, and you want him to take what’s his. “I’m yours?” It’s posed as a curious inquiry, one that Bob perks up at.

“Mm-hm,” His mouth skirts over your jugular, planting kisses there as his digits idly rut over your cunt. Crass noises reverberate through your steam-laden bathroom as he fingers you. “You’re mine.”

There’s an inherent sweetness to his cadence even when he’s attempting to be assertive, and it makes your stomach erupt with butterflies.

Clinging to him, your thighs twitch when he picks you up, gait one of exhilaration as your legs kiss the foot of your mattress. He lays you down, towel still bound around his hips, riding dangerously low.

Veins course from his navel toward his groin, accompanied by a still-damp abdomen, water glistening over raw muscle. Golden tendrils of morning curl around his body, and he’s beautiful.

He’s more god than man, but he’s yours — and that means everything.

Cerulean hues sparkle with excitement, jaw slackening, hands coiling together when you begin to move toward the pillows.

He’s enraptured, the image of a man enthralled, preparing to crawl to you if that’s what it takes. A pink tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, gaze never wavering from you.

“I need you, Bob.” Through the hush of labored sighs and crackling tension, you tell him softly, accompanied by a look of affection. Bob’s throat jostles as he swallows, tilting forward to join you on the bed.

Damp, brunette ringlets frame his face, mouth agape, irises eclipsed by black as he surges forward, slotting himself between your legs.

As his musculature parts your thighs, he abandons the towel, hovering above you. Mouths clamor for one another, messy and desperate, a clash of wet tongues and lips.

Bob openly moans into your kiss, rutting into your leg as if he’s in heat, flushed cock gliding over the silky flesh of your inner thigh. A gasp snares within your chest, hands gripping his biceps, tugging him close.

Pearls of precum ooze over your skin, slick across your thigh as you kiss him hard. It’s open-mouthed, wanton as bodies tangle together, nails digging light crescents into corded muscle.

A scarlet flush blankets his features, as if he’s been burning beneath the sun for too long. Bob can feel the coil settle within his belly, a tangle of heat that’s pulled tight, something visceral and real.

Beneath him, you’re stunning, heartbeat one of erratic excitement, a lullaby that he can hear. Kisses continue to devolve into a mess of want, sloppy and wet as your back arches from the mattress.

The brush of your nipples ghost over his chest, a shiver simultaneously gripping the both of you. It gives him pause, gaze trailing to your breasts as his lips untether from yours, kissing a scorching trail toward your chest.

Hips urge forward, cock incessantly grinding against your thigh, followed by a string of breathy whines that catch in the open.

“So handsome like this, baby,” Your tender praise makes him groan, keening beneath sweetly-spoken compliments. One hand rakes toward the nape of his neck, fingers scraping over brunette waves. “So perfect, feels s’good.”

Lips passionately brand themselves to your throat, collarbone, sternum — Bob leaves no inch of your chest untouched. He worships your body, loving you so viscerally, so deeply.

He kisses his way to your right breast, breathing in your saccharine scent, senses swimming in you. He’s drowning, but it’s something he welcomes, mouth slipping over your nipple.

Taking the pebbled peak between his lips, Bob lavishes your breasts in attention, gingerly kneading at the other, keeping his mouth busy. He’s whining, flushed cockhead drizzling with precum.

It’s akin to torture, waiting to be inside of you — but he does it anyway, tending to you before anything else. He softly sucks at the sensitive bud, drawing preening moans from your mouth, and he shivers.

Trembling fingers quiver with excitement as you push them through his hair, still slick with water, fisting into damp waves. “Bob,” You moan, back beginning to arch, following his mouth. “S’perfect.”

A muted buzz shoots through his cock as his hips jerk forward, hot air pushed out through his nose as he teases your breasts. He’s passionate, never resorting to anything harsh, and he’s needy.

Through a half-lidded stare, his eyes find your face, contorted into one of bliss, lips parted, jaw slackening. Bob moans around your breast, cock throbbing incessantly.

“Mm, you’re so pretty,” He groans, the sound throaty, husked as it curls deliciously around your ears. His lips are eager, never ceasing as he kisses a wet trail between your breasts. “Please, I want to be inside of you.”

He’s talkative, attempting to vocalize what he wants without reproach. Each keening whine and desperate plea sends shockwaves of bliss through your belly, arousal hot and slick over your cunt.

With a jostle of your head, you’re nodding, welcoming him closer as he continues to kiss his way back to your mouth. As lips collide, you’re absently rocking into him, feeling his body tense.

“Please,” It’s all that needs to be said, and he’s crawling, thoroughly and utterly razed as he presses close. “Need you so bad.” Your cadence is disarmingly tender, something that scratches at his brain.

The flushed head of his cock slips over your cunt a time or two, gathering the slick that’s permeating there, pulling a groan from his chest. He steadies himself on one hand, the other caressing your ribs.

Even when he’s snugly on top of you, he’s entirely subservient, a wanton mess, needing you more than anything else.

A shiver grips his spine when his hips fall flush against yours, cockhead splitting past your folds, still oozing with precum. He grinds himself into you a time or two, letting that friction tug at the coil in his stomach.

Bob’s visage contorts into a look of sheer want, the face of someone who’s desperate to be needed, wanted — and you do, more than anything else.

Shifting closer, you suck in a sharp inhale as his hips urge forward, cock sinking into you. It’s a brief adjustment, cunt clenching around him with ripples of bliss.

Hands fall toward the nape of his neck, threading through still-damp, brunette tresses, giving them gentle tugs. Coaxing him closer, Bob groans at the sudden influx of pleasure, pace somewhat erratic, to start.

He likes it messy, sloppy — it’s all an amalgamation of limbs, bodies clawing for one another as if you may never touch again. Mouths meet in a snare of tongue and ardor, spit slick over swollen lips.

Bridging the gap, you let your tongue slip through his parted lips, tangling with his own in another bruising kiss. A low moan catches in Bob’s throat, swallowed by another barrage of kisses.

As he draws his hips back and pushes forward, the rhythm he sets is needy, quick; a glistening string of saliva connects his mouth to yours.

The wet tendril falls over your chin, a sheen of intermingled spit that Bob greedily kisses over, pulling a moan from your throat. Crass noises emanate from between bodies, your cunt taking him perfectly.

One hand shifts to grab your leg, smoothly hitching against the back of your knee, caressing the skin there as he pushes it toward your abdomen. It isn’t uncomfortable, the new angle allowing him to fuck you deeper.

A tremulous moan splits your diaphragm, shuddering as your cunt pulses, clenching around his cock. He fills you up, leaving no room for space, heat exuding from him like an open flame.

He’s strong, capable — there’s something steady beneath the erratic slam of his hips as he pushes his cock further, bottoming out. Ringlets of brown brush over your brow, foreheads coming to press together.

“I love you,” Bob groans through another snap of his hips, and you’re dizzy from the pleasure, body tangled into a knot of bliss. It sits heavy in your belly, wanton and waiting. “Love you so much.”

The bulk of his musculature blankets you, larger, each urge of his body bristling with an enthusiastic passion. You take it all gleefully — every kiss of his cock to your cervix, every breath that feathers over your mouth.

As he lavishes you in half-whimpered confessions, you hold tightly to him, his cock lewdly slapping away at your pussy. His eyes are closed, mouth slack, making room for throaty, husked groans that cause you to shiver.

“Doing so well for me, Bob,” You croon between thrusts, the wind ripping from your lungs, exhilaration stinging your nerves. “Love you.” It’s all you’re able to force out before he’s kissing you again.

Bob shivers at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of his hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together.

Kissing you hoarse, it’s all passion — bleeding heat that coagulates in the pit of your stomach, coil wanting to unfurl. Arousal slicks your cunt, noises crude as he fucks into you, eager.

He isn’t rough, but he’s fast, cock pounding away at your aching core as if time is nonexistent. You never sway him from it, hitching your other leg up around his hips, knee pressing to his ribs.

Despite his position, caged in around you, contorting you in ways that allow him better access to you, he’s subservient, still. His lips untether, face coming to nuzzle beneath your chin.

“So tight, all mine.” Something shadowed eclipses his voice, something possessive; it makes you shiver with delight. He finds his footing, and that husked purr makes your head spin.

A myriad of throaty groans, whines, and hot sighs plume over your neck, allowing you to fist at his brunette crown. “Bob, Bob,” You moan, leg constricting his hips as he fucks you deep. “Please don’t stop.”

Bob shudders at the praise, cock lewdly clashing against your slick cunt, wound up into tight knots that seem on the precipice of bursting.

“I — God, m’close,” He huffs into your collar, knowing that he can’t hold himself back for much longer. His voice is stretched thin, frayed — it’s ragged with desire, splintering at the seams as he pushes into you again. “Please!”

His cock pulses inside of you, stretching you out, every ripple of your cunt sending him into a borderline frenzy. Every sensation is electrifying, addictive — he’s lost within you.

He’s had flings before, something to fill the gaping hole within him, something distracting just to feel; with you, it’s everything. Bob can feel how much you love him through touch alone, how much he needs you.

He kisses the drool shining against your chin, tongue warm as he laps it up, prompting you to kiss him again, bruising. Moans snare in the mouths of another, and he’s hammering away at your pussy.

Through excitable half-babbles, Bob groans about how good you feel, how pretty you are, how you make him feel alive.

Wisps of brown stick his temples from mere exertion and anticipation, lips ghosting over one another as he presses his head to yours.

Each urge of his hips sends him deeper, cock nearly kissing your cervix. His mouth is wet with his own spit, pooling within his maw as he continues to piston into you with a raw excitement.

“Y—You’re drooling, Bob.” You whisper, sweet breath pluming over his lips. He gets somewhat bashful when you point it out, but he can’t help himself, features scarlet.

“You feel so — so good,” Bob huffs, overwhelmed with ecstasy; everything feels hot, as if he might explode into a thousand pieces. “Yeah.” He chokes, still bitten by the sting of embarrassment.

The incessant pulse of his cock warms your cunt, filling you up, his ministrations beginning to slow in intensity. “I want you to share.” You whisper, broken and hoarse, strung-out with desire.

There’s something intimately razed about your cadence, the wanton ardor that seeps through the cracks, and Bob moans your name. He knows what you’re asking, and he’s wrecked.

With a fervent nod, he’s visibly charmed as you open your mouth, tongue warm and pink. Bob’s hips stutter, jagged and strained.

Saliva gathers in his mouth as he spits into yours, watching it fall like sticky tendrils onto your tongue. His body shudders from the sight, eyes impossibly wide, eclipsed by desire.

A twinge of possessiveness swells within him, tying you to him, binding both of you together. He watches as if his gaze might burn through you, thoroughly mesmerized.

Open-mouthed and half-lidded, you swallow his spit, feeling his hips draw back and push forward again.

“S’good,” Through a soft purr, you lavish your boyfriend in sweet praise, carding your fingers through his hair. “Keep going.” You croon, planting a wet kiss against his jaw.

Bob nods, shaky and exhilarated, pushing his cock back into you with a sudden haste. He starts again, hammering into you like a man starved, face flush against the side of your neck.

He’s blanketed in a delicate shade of crimson, lips parted, pressing open-mouthed kisses over your throat. Each urge of his hips sends you soaring, cock lewdly slapping into your pussy.

“Tight, you’re — Mm, you’re perfect,” Bob pants, his release hot and fervent as it trails after him, preparing to crash into some exploding star. The coil in his belly unfurls; messy and wanton. “Close.”

“Bob!” A throaty moan rips through your throat, cunt tight and pulsing around him, causing the both of you to shiver. He’s needy, clawing — something ravenous consumes him.

He doesn’t deserve to breathe your air, and yet he’s inhaling your scent, the sweetness of your flesh, the perspiration that licks over your jugular.

“Need to — I need to …” Bob pants, knowing that he’s being torn apart, splintered into slivers. His cock throbs incessantly, and he’s crescendoing with a plethora of grunts and whines.

“Stay,” You weren’t asking — you were telling. A husked, simpering groan echoes through his diaphragm, hips erratic, hand clenched into the sheets beside you. “Stay, Bob. Cum in me.”

Something snaps — that coil he fights against comes undone in one devastating wave. He gasps, nerves ablaze, body teeming with a buzz of ecstasy that pulses through him.

There’s something else, something dark; for a moment, he envisions you, full of his seed, something he’s never dreamed of.

That fantasy spreads like a festering plague, saturating the corners of his mind, feeding into something lustful. Bob’s release is messy, excessive — his hips surge again, fucking you full of his cum.

He paints your cunt with hot ropes of his spent, spasming, tense; his lips lavish your jaw in a myriad of sloppy kisses.

It oozes out of you, smattered over the insides of your thighs, his cock, your cunt. Your name burns his tongue as he says it again and again, desperate.

“Jesus,” Bob huffs, brows pinched together, countenance warped into a look of sheer bliss. He looks content, as if his release brought him some semblance of comfort. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” A sigh of elation escapes you, digits sweeping through his tresses, planting a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “That was amazing, Bob.” You hum, mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’m not finished,” With a peculiar grit sinking into his voice, you bend to him, breathing hitching within your throat. He’s half-hard again inside of you, jaw slack, eyes wide. “Please — please, just let me.”

His hand drags over your leg, caressing and squeezing, hooking around the back of your knee. The other digs into the pillow beside your head, fisting until the fabric begins to tear.

With a lackadaisical nod, you’re delighted to let him continue, heat pooling within your belly, oozing between your thighs. “B—Bob,” You whine, grasping at his shoulders. “Bob!”

A wet, glistening sheen of white sticks to his groin, your arousal intermingling with his cum as he pushes into you again. A moan escapes you, body tingling with waves of pleasure.

Bob looks as if he’s soaring, at the pinnacle of ecstasy, thrusts beginning to mount in pace. As bodies collide again and again, the lewd clash of flesh reverberates, wet and filthy.

He’s beautiful like this — beautiful when he’s unraveling, coming apart above him.

Readjusting your position, Bob places your legs up against his broad shoulders, bending you, but not breaking you. He doesn’t manhandle; he moves, touch tender and rapturous.

The newfound angle sends you into some white-hot snare of pleasure, back arching, head rolling back against the pillows. He fucks you deep, cock pistoning away at your pussy, groaning with each thrust.

It was almost overwhelming, fraying your nerves, making you delirious as he hammered into you, mumbling a string of apologies and half-sentences.

“B—Bob, it’s too much,” Your cunt clenched around his cock again, rippling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Everything feels too sensitive, as if you might wither away. “Slow, slow.”

Bob moans, fucking another rope of cum into you before stopping, meeting your gaze with a heated one of his own. He slows, knowing your stamina is only a fraction of his.

He nods, swallowing the lump within his throat before he comes to a crawl, gently setting your legs back down onto the bed.

He stays inside of you even still, coming to lay his head against your collarbone. “I love you.” He murmurs, content and no longer wound-up, a lazy smile glued to his features.

For a moment, you’re too blissed-out to say anything, chest heaving with labored sighs. “I love you too,” You hum, shivering as his mouth idly travels over your chest. “You’re so perfect.”

The bulk of his musculature covers your body, bleeding with heat, eyelashes fluttering as you caress the base of his skull. “Wanna stay here, like this,” He exhales. “Is that okay?”

“Mm-hm,” His cock twitches inside of you when you give your consent, and he’s elated. “Stay here with me.” You exhale, the noise finally beginning to climb down from your peak.

Bob feels your chin tuck over the top of his head, and while the gesture is sweet, he’s grasping at your waist with an obvious possession.

“I think we should get back in the shower.” You suggest, a soft chuckle escaping you. Bob seems a touch flustered, peering at you with a placating smile.

“Yeah,” He agrees, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips. “After you.”

[valyvinny]

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[valyvinny]

🍏🍎

[valyvinny]

taking a shower with caleb, but for once, you're the one pampering him.

he's always the one washing your hair, but when you pout at him and threaten to leave the shower, he relents and sits on the shower bench in front of you. he sighs and tells you once more that "baby, you really don't have to, i'm okay," but you're having none of that. tilting his head up to meet your gaze, you press a kiss to his eyelids, and he tenderly places his hands on your hips — rubbing small comforting circles with his thumbs.

shielding his eyes from the water, you make sure his hair is thoroughly soaked through before squeezing some shampoo in your palms and massaging his scalp with it. caleb shudders a bit at first, your smaller hands much warmer than his. your touch is so soft, and for some reason, his chest feels like it's tightening a bit. when you push his hair back and laugh, whispering that "slicked back hair fits you, handsome," caleb looks at you as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

the feeling of your warm skin beneath his hands, your nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your soft hums — this is love, he thinks. you're gazing at him with so much adoration, and you're treating him as if he was fragile. it's all so overwhelming, and caleb can't help the tears in his eyes. he was always content caring for you, never expecting you to do the same — your presence alone was a blessing enough. when he takes his hands off your hips to wipe his eyes, you grow concerned.

“caleb, are you okay? did shampoo get in your eyes?”

in response, he just laughs and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head against your chest. listening carefully to your heartbeat, he exhales deeply. your body heat is so grounding, and he can't help letting out a choked sob when he feels you wrap your own arms around him. you care, you care for him so deeply, and caleb never knew he could allow himself to be selfish in this manner.

oh, how lucky you were to have each other.

“just thinking about how much i love you.”

🍎 pomme's notes — his myth damn near made me kill myself i need to love him so bad.. also inspired by that one reddit guy whose girlfriend washed his hair and he cried.. that's calebcore!!