vilixxr

[vilixxr]

Caleb's ugly duckling <3

summary: being average in looks or maybe even below average you can choose (you are never ugly btw, its not like you are born to a supermodel and everyday you just coexisting with yourself peacefully is enough!! much loves and kisses)

c/w: bullying, yandere caleb, caleb's unconditional love, vent-ish?, idiots being mad that you're "ugly" LOL, stepcest(?) is it even stepcest?? idk, implied murder.

Imagine being below average in the looks department, you know it but never say it. you're okay with your looks because its not like you were ugly enough to be pointed out by every turn but not enough to turn heads. you were average or maybe a bit below, you didn't mind though because caleb's and gran's love was all you needed while growing up.

until you started middle school, you were nicknamed the ugly duckling, because both girls and boys are mean. Caleb was the handsome, sporty and smart kid and you were of course, very average or below in everything. Girls would fawn over him and the guys were either jealous or befriending him at every turn.

and the girls were jealous from all the love you got from caleb. the way he smothers you with forehead and cheek kisses. the girls pick on you and gossip behind your back. their mocking laughter as you say literally anything. the way they spill their water on your clothes on "accident"

the bullying got worse in highschool

some people think they are hot shit. you just always thought they were idiots and more importantly, you didn't really care what these kids were talking shit about, gossiping bitches are always insecure and grow up into insecure adults. but you would be lying if you said the bullying never affected you. blonde girl, pretty eyes and you would be blind to say she wasn't pretty. but her heart sure made her uglier than ever.

it was almost laughable that the mean girl was blonde. expected her to break free from her movie stereotype but she didn't. Vivian was almost pitiful with the way she bullied you, she wasn't stupid either, made sure you kept your mouth shut. the fact she was your friend didn't make things easier. she had a rough childhood, you say to yourself.

she would slap if you talked back and made her friends take turns kicking you or snapping pics of your bruised face and body. But today you ticked her off for whatever reason and she got too heated, punching you in the face, sticking her chewed up gum in your hair and scrunching it.

the school bell rings and you walk out there earlier than caleb and let out few tears of frustration. you take deep breaths and try to compose yourself "everything will be okay, its going to be okay" you always say, even if it was a lie. you hiccup and feel the gum sticking to your face. you hate her, what the fuck did you do wrong? you were too young to understand and handle things with maturity.

you hear footsteps approaching and you tense up, hiding your face from the person passing by.

"what happened to you.." a voice calls out, their voice is too familiar and you almost sob at the person you see. its Caleb.

he immediately kneels down to you and gently cup your face in hands. you cry at the way how softly he touches you. his breathing was uneven and his brows were furrowed. his eyes dart to your eyes, then the bruise on your eye and the redness of the cheek from the slap, the gum in your hair. he could feel the anger and despair bubbling up inside him. he hugs you, his hands shaking and holding the back of your head and your back. afraid that you will disappear if he lets go.

"caleb.." you mumble, he looks at you and strokes the tears away from your black and blue eye "i can't take this anymore" you choke out, his heart shatters at the state of your voice.

after he comforts you enough, he stands up and holds you hand in his, stable and strong. he walks to the back of the school and meets the group that targeted you. he puts his headphones on you and tell you to wait, your favorite music ringing through the speakers.

while you wait, you find a group of baby birds sleeping in their nest as their mother you assume, feeds them. the gentle sunlight kisses your face as you look at the wholesome sight.

Caleb comes back with your favorite bread and drink. handing it to you with a comforting smile "lets tell gran we had our dinner already" as you nod. he carries both your bags, while you munch on your bread as you both walk home. you hope it was this peaceful everyday.

hes glad you didn't notice the blood on his shoes.

[vilixxr]

heading straight for caleb's apartment after a bad day at work where he takes one quick look at you, stares for half a second at your eyes that are notably absent of their familiar shine, and pulls you into a hug. strong arms circle around your waist. he lets one of them stay there, endlessly pulling you flush against his body, while the other creeps up to the back of your head. caleb tucks the crown of your head under his chin, letting the pointed bone dig at your scalp just so, in the way he knows you've always liked it.

he feels you breathe.

in—

a deep, steady inhale that greedily takes in his scent. he smells like home, you once said. of sunsets, wasted away at the backyard as kids, the fabric of your shirt clinging to your backs with sweat. of being called back to the house by grandma, the offer of cookies fresh from the oven too enticing to refuse. caleb hopes you find the nostalgic comfort your shared childhood brings as the tip of your nose brushes against his neck.

—hold,

you pause, chest drawn back. he pats down your hair. long fingers work to pull apart the knots and tangles. he catches the strap of your workbag just before it falls to the floor with a heavy thud.

—and out.

it's shaky, the way you breathe out, hot air wafting at his skin in tiny puffs. your shoulders tremble the slightest bit.

you're trying. you're trying. to pull yourself together. to hold onto the last vestiges of control you have over your emotions. it's hard work, he knows, so he holds you. just a touch tighter. grip growing a tad more firm, but no less tender. no less gentle.

"i'm here now, pipsqueak." his voice no louder than a whisper. "no need to keep holding on for me. let go."

your body tenses under his touch. a beat, and you fall limp, slumping against his chest. you choke out a strangled sob as hot tears spill past the corner of your eyes uncontrollably.

caleb feels the strike of something sharp and painful in his heart when your cries don't let up. he can't stand it. he wishes, desperately so, for the demise of anything and everything that could bring you pain to the point of tears. you don't deserve to be brought down like this.

"i've got you now. it's ok."

but no matter. he'll be here. time and time again, caleb will be here. tirelessly, unconditionally, to help you back up on your feet.

a/n: listen. listen to me. this started out as something ENTIRELY different to what it ended up being. it's supposed to be a fun little piece, maybe even a tad suggestive. like im not even sad rn so idk how we got here.

divider: @cafekitsune

[vilixxr]

happy Thursday the 20th

[vilixxr]

THIS but the horny edition 🔞

Xavier is for the girls who like being edged over and over until they’re nothing but a sobbing mess. He’d take delight in your frustration and tearful eyes, call your dazed expression adorable. He’s a little sadistic like that.

Xavier is for the girls who enjoy getting overstimulated. You’re sobbing and screaming after orgasming and even squirting so many times but you let his fingers and tongue work you up just once more to see if you can handle it anymore or not. You’re a little masochistic like that.

Xavier is for the girls who enjoy rough and intense face riding. He likes it when you grab his head and let your cunt thrust back and forth against his face, moaning loudly every time the tip of his nose rubs along the sensitive folds. Sometimes he’s unable to breathe properly but the high of it all is too good for him to even care.

Xavier is for the girls who want to be treated like Queens but also wanna get fucked like common whores behind closed doors. You ask him to be as freaky as he wants to be, and he’ll flip the switch..his eyes will darken and then it’s from the bedroom to the balcony, against the wall, against the mirror, in the shower and on the floors..

Xavier is for the girls who like a soft-spoken, gentleman even in bed. He’ll talk you through your orgasms in his tender, soothing voice. He’ll tell you how pretty your flushed face looks, how pleasing it is to feel your walls clutching so tightly around his length, how good it feels when you gush around his cock.

i know posting this when Xavier’s branch is like a day away is a crime but I HAD TO 🤭

» MASTERLIST «

©️ Xavier divider is my own. Credit me if you use ♡

[vilixxr]

TUTORING GONE SOUTH

A TUTORING SESSION … college student!caleb x fem!reader warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI (18+), pure filth ahead !! somewhat attraction to intelligence (vaguely STEM focused), established relationship (bf/gf), slightly perverted caleb, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk caleb, he makes you read smth while eating you out, not proofread wordcount. 1.6k (small rushed smth to get my creative juices flowing so this is just word-vomit//it was NOT supposed to be this long lol) taglist. @jellysix @tinycatharsis @wonuwuuuu @wonryllis @tsukkisukkii

A TUTORING SESSION WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND takes a turn for the better, or worse, when he finds your legs nudging his more than normal under the table. He finds your fascination with him just as interesting.

it was somewhere in the afternoon when you persuaded caleb to be your personal tutor. Well, not exactly ‘persuaded’, really, since he was more than willing to help you with anything. Including academics.

“You’re doing good so far.. Understanding it better after my explanation, pip-squeak?” Caleb asked, genuinely curious if you made any progress with his help. He knew some courses weren’t exactly for the weak, especially any mathematical or scientifical subjects. The one he was helping you with right now, physics. His specialty. It had to be considering his course.

“Yes, much better than my professor’s lectures. I should pay you for this, Caleb. How much for an hour?” You teased, peeling your attention from the book on the table to look at him with a playful smirk.

Caleb scoffed in response, turning his body to face you more than he already way. “Pay me? Yeah, why don’t you pay your beloved boyfriend with a kiss.” Caleb grinned mischievously at you, leaning in close to your face, clearly expectant for you to keep your word.

“As if,” you grumbled, head dipping back down to the thick book laid on the flat surface of the table, a familiar heat crawling to your cheeks. Your knee began to bounce traitorously beneath the table, unintentionally bumping his thigh beside you.

“Hm, you’re right.. A kiss isn’t enough,” he murmured, eyes observing every detail of you with a lazy smile all the while resting his temple on his knuckles. Caleb shifts, hand moving down to steady your thigh, slender fingers rubbing soothing circles over your knee as his palm caressed your skin through the skirt you wore. The contact made you freeze, brows furrowing in an attempt to ignore and concentrate.

“I always need more of your, princess.. doesn’t matter when, where or how.” Caleb’s hand travelled further up your inner thigh as he confessed his greed, squeezing the plump flesh he found beneath your skirt, the fabric lifting up high. The soft gasp you exhaled didn’t go unnoticed by his perceptive ears, your clear sign of pleasure responded with his fingers teasing the edges of your lacy panties.

“Caleb, I should be studying..” you muttered weakly, legs squirming at his invading fingers, playing with the seams of your panties with gentle tugs, letting it snap back onto your skin to leave a little sting. “Then keep on studying. Act like I’m not here, playing with your pretty pussy,” he murmured the last part hotly into your ear, being sure to lean in close enough that you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you.

“W-wait—too soon!” you yelped helplessly, grip on your pen tightening when his fingers reached beneath your panties, smearing your folds with slick arousal and impatiently delving two digits into your entrance the second he found it. Your head dipped once more, teeth biting on lip to stifle your pathetic moans.

Caleb didn’t say a word, admiring his effect on you as his fingers curled and thrusted in your wet heat, using the heel of his palm to grind against your sensitive clit. He smirked mischievously, violet eyes glinting with the same sentiment before he decided to tease you further, quickening the pace of his fingers long enough for you to feel yourself brought to edge.

He keeps on going even when your thighs quiver and part wide on your seat for him, hips rolling to meet his plummeting in desperation to chase your high—only to be denied of it.

“You son of a—aah, Caleb,” you whined, gaze hazy with lust now wide open and sharp to glare at your boyfriend sitting beside you undoubtedly amused. “Why’d you stop? I was so fucking close..”

“Because I wanted to,” he answered with a chuckle that grated on your nerves, making you more frustrated than you already were. He watched you struggle to recompose and grip your pen tighter, eyes searching for the exercise you were doing in attempt to continue. Yet, the moment you scribbled something down, his slender fingers slid out of you, digits glistening with your slick, making you hiss.

“Enough of this. Come up here.” Caleb withdrew his hand from your core, squeezing the flesh of your thigh before resting on your hip, fingers digging into your skin in a gentle pull.

you grumbled a curse beneath your breath before getting up from your seat, taking a few steps to stand in front of him after he pushed his chair back with a screech, making space for you without his hand leaving your body. He lifted the other arm, lifting you up with ease and setting you down on the edge of the table.

“What’re you planning?” Caleb’s hands moved to part your legs, letting you lean back on the table, a hand held behind you to support yourself up. “Nothing special.. Just a little playtime.” He said so with a smirk, voice filled with innuendo.

You huffed, eyes fixed on him as you felt his fingers hook over your panties, pulling it down and off swiftly. Just when you thought he’d dip his head down to your core, he stopped for a little something, reaching out for your textbook on the table and flipping the pages for a long yet familiar paragraph.

“Here. I want you to read this aloud, princess,” he instructed, a hint of authority in his tone. The side-long glance he made at you told you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer at all.

Caleb kept his eyes on you until you nodded, swallowing to dampen your suddenly dry throat. He hooked his arms under your thighs, fingers caressing your skin wherever he found it. His leaned down close to your bare pussy, blowing a hot breath against your folds to get a reaction—which he did—before his tongue darted out to lick a firm stripe up your entrance, delving into your folds with ease to find your slit. He buried his face deeper, nose grazing your throbbing clit the harder he ground himself into you.

You didn’t began reading straight away, moaning his name to adjust to his tongue invading your tight pussy with enthusiasm. “O-okay, so..” you exhaled heavily, head turned down to your shoulder to read the words of the text, stammering on your way with how skilfully his tongue curled deep inside your warm channel, pulling out to flick and suckle on your bundle of nerves.

“.. which leads to, ngh” you trailed off, eyes fluttering shut and mouth left agape in for a silent, breathless moan when Caleb’s hand trailed up from your thighs to your hips, fingers clinging onto your ass-cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Wrong line, princess.. You’re supposed to be on paragraph two, not three,” he groaned against your fluttering cunt, chin smeared with arousal as he lapped up your nectar with fervour, eager to swallow it all.

“Don’t think I don’t have that text memorised, baby,” he laughed lowly, desire filled eyes glancing up at your crumbling self, barely able to focus on the task he gave you. “So you better read it right if you wanna cum,” he warned with a sharp slap to your rear, revelling in the way you jolted at the impact, giving him the opportunity to ravish you further.

“Yes, please, Caleb, I wanna cum—holy fuck,” you moaned whorishly, head thrown back in pure, unadulterated pleasure when the slick muscle of his tongue fucked your insides rapidly, bringing you inches closer to your impending orgasm. The text was long forgotten by you for the moment, until he slowed agonisingly slow again, raising a silent demanding brow up at you. It seemed like your begging could only do so much.

You bit back a curse before turning down for the book beside you again, picking up where you left off. Caleb, ever the so-closeted-sadist, chucked shamelessly against your aching pussy, savouring the way your walls fluttered around his tongue while you struggled to read, words tripping as you went and sped up your little presentation so he could finally let you cum.

Reaching the last syllable, you shifted your attention back to the ruthless assault he made on your clit, finally able to close your eyes and let him lead you to sexual bliss. A hand of yours drifted from the edge of the table to tangle your fingers inside his dark locks, grabbing a fistful to push him further, deeper, in your depths, taking away his privilege to suck in some air.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.. my girl needs to cum, doesn’t she? ‘fcourse she does,” he growled softly between fleeting moans, mouth alternating between your clit and your slit, obsessed on the thought of making you climax. Your moans and cries reached a pitch, nails raking over his scalp gently as your pleasure reached a crescendo, toes curling and legs quivering like a knot ready to snap.

With one last nibble on your sensitive nub, your orgasm came in like a tidal wave, overwhelming your every nerve. Caleb stayed in place all the way, waiting for your twitches to stop and helping you bask in the afterglow. Panting with a heaving chest, you collapsed back onto the table, hair sprawled with beads of sweat falling down your temple, skin sheened with sweat.

“I’ll help you relax for a while, okay? Then, we’ll get back to our study session. I’m not done getting your mind in shape yet,” he grinned drunkenly, licking his lips for all the rest of your juices that he swallowed in thirsty gulps.

[vilixxr]

ELECTRIC TOUCH

caleb's hurting, and the only thing he needs your help with is distracting him from his pain.

l&ds caleb x reader

CW BIONIC CALEB SEX, female reader, explicit smut, porn with plot, lowkey angsty lol, he’s in pain, handjob, accidental orgasm denial lol, language, fingering with bionic arm, spanking with bionic arm, lowkey temperature play, not fisting but we get close, praise, pet names, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, playing with squirt idk, lmk what i miss, proofread once. wc 2.2k

NOTE almost died twice but here it is. thank you transformers fanfic for preparing me for this exact moment. somewhat. i started this an hour after the trailer came out so it’s very inspired but with some creative liberties 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕. i hope this fic is ok idk idk idkkk. ambivalent towards the plot bc i needed something to lead up to the smut and give it some SUBSTANCE. n idk anything about science robotics engineering. those are all just words to me. something about calebmc that makes me put some sort of angst into everything i write for them. making him right handed so then he can’t jork it without ur help 🥹lol jork it

gif divider

Caleb’s temperament had always brought out the concern in you. Something’s changed recently; gradually, but surely. He’s always tired, but also always restless. He’s neither quite enthusiastic, nor ever snappy towards you. You aren’t able to pinpoint the moment that the shift occurred. 

So naturally, you’re concerned when you find out he’s now in the hospital for some repair. Some malfunction or breakdown? Unusual, but worrying nonetheless. You knew anything was possible with the Farspace Fleet. 

You find yourself before an abandoned—perhaps repurposed, warehouse. The lot was empty save for stacked cargo bins, and there wasn’t any visible light coming from inside. No signs of life. Anyone else with half a mind would turn away for their own safety, but you aren’t thinking about yourself right now; it was caleb who is in need, he’s the reason you’re here and the reason you advance further into the property. 

You nearly miss the small door around the back of the building. It blends into the wall, clearly not meant to be noticed by a regular person. Whatever was going on here was private, illegal even. It’s unlocked, the door effortlessly swings open when you push down the handle. You wonder if it’s a trap. But no one greets you when you step inside, you only come face to face with what seems to be dozens of projects involving heavy machinery and tools that you can’t quite name. The smell of burnt metal stings your nose. 

There’s something different about the air in here; your gut is telling you that Caleb is close, it’s a feeling you can’t ignore. You proceed down a corridor, the cold concrete walls keeping you company, though unwelcoming. You’re cautious for anything lurking around, but there’s no feeling of being watched. So far, the place is empty. 

And then you hear it, a hiss of pain followed by a low curse.

“Caleb?” 

You pull back the curtain separating you and the sight is otherworldly, almost monstrous, had it not been on the boy you attach all your childhood memories to. He looks all jacked up, which is worrying in itself, but you were more so focused on the piece of biotechnology that was there in place of his entire right arm. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He speaks with his back to you, but the pain in his voice is unmistakable; you don’t need to see his face to know how he was feeling. You’re speechless, confused, but most of all scared for him. “But you’ve already come, it’s not safe to go back alone, but… I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I swear I—”

“Does it hurt?” You interrupt. You interrupt him because his explanation means less to you than his well-being. You’re already at his bedside when his head follows the sound of your voice, you lock eyes, then lower yours to take in the image of the man before you. 

He spares a small smile, you were always so worried for him. “No, I barely feel anything, really. It doesn’t hurt more than it’s unfamiliar.”

It isn’t sincere. He’s reassuring you and telling you that he’s fine but here he is sitting alone on a warehouse cot, covered in bruises and bandages and only then do you see it for what it is. Because if it’s not physically, which you know it is, then he has to be hurting emotionally. A part of your heart breaks for him; you can’t help but let tears blur your vision. It’s not that you pity him, but it’s as if his pain is becoming yours too. 

“Oh, Caleb.”

“C’mere, baby.” He pulls you onto his lap and lets you cry into his left shoulder, holding you close with that same arm. You stay there for a while, listening to the beat of his heart and matching your breathing to his. “I can’t feel you anymore, you know, not from my right side.” The words tug at your heartstrings. He flexes his fingers as if testing them for the first time. He feels nothing.

You pick up the dog tags resting on his chest and press them onto his heart. The warmth from his body transfers to the metal charms and then to where your fingers still pressed on them. He shakes his head.

“I need you, all of you. It’s useless,” he’s weak with desire and it kills him that he can’t do anything about it. 

You place both palms on his cheeks and press your lips hard onto his, “you feel me now, Caleb?” He only nods in response, his pupils are blown wide and he’s turned into putty in your hold. Your fingers lightly travel across the expanse of his exposed chest, drawing out goosebumps from his skin. You pause where his skin meets the waistband of his pants. “How about this?”

He hisses, and it’s different from before. Pleasure has replaced the discomfort he once felt. “Yeah, baby. Keep going just like that, don’t stop.”

You slot your lips to his again, this time with intense passion. His left hand makes its way underneath your shirt to hold the curve of your waist, keeping you close, while his right hand goes to free the tent in his pants. He gives his hard cock a few pumps with the hand to temporarily relieve the ache, but eventually gives up, a groan of discomfort slips from his mouth and into yours. 

You look down at his neglected boner and put the pieces together. “Lemme help,” without waiting for his response, your thumb begins to spread his leaking precum around the tip of his dick.

His hips instinctually jerk up into your hand and he chokes on his spit. “D’tease me, darling, please. I’m weak n vulnerable. S’basically torture,” he begs, his brain is malfunctioning, only filled with the thought of your hands on his length. 

Even in his most painful moments he manages to be insufferable. Okay, maybe you’ll allow it just this one time. Your fingers wrap around his heavy cock, jacking him off the same way you know he likes it. 

“That’s good. Hahh—feels s’good, fuck,” you both continue your pace, him rutting uncontrollably into your palm and your hand sliding along his length. 

“Still don’t hurt?”

“Only hurts when you stop,” his moans echo around the concrete room, he’s not holding back at all, showing you exactly how good you’re making him feel. His dick twitches in your hand as he gets closer to his release; you don’t plan on stopping. 

Then suddenly, a loud whirring noise followed by screeching metal from behind him interrupts the symphony of moans. You immediately pull away and jolt backwards, startled, eyes wide out of fear that you hurt him, took it too far. Though, he catches you before you fall. 

Orgasm denied, the unexpected loss of contact makes him whimper, but nonetheless he comforts you. “Hey hey, look at me. You’re okay, baby. I’m okay, see?” He bends his bionic arm, faking another smile.

But it’s not okay, you realize. You’re not used to this and you were too caught up in the moment. You know he’s hiding his own fear to protect you, console you. He shouldn’t have to. This shouldn’t be your shared reality. 

“S’not okay, Caleb. Don’t like it one bit.” You begin to pout again, eyes welling up. 

“I know baby, I know.” His hands grip your waist, thumbs massaging circles on your stomach, “I’ll make it better, promise. Here,” his mechanical fingers rub the wetness between your legs and you moan his name. The appendages are rock solid as they press harder against your clothed cunt, providing you with some much needed friction. You hold onto his shoulders to not fall; your knees are planted beside each of his thighs but in this moment you feel like your legs are made of jelly.

“Can’t even feel how wet you are, what a shame.” Your pants and underwear are pulled down simultaneously with a single tug, exposing your soaked cunt to face. “What a pretty little thing you’re hiding, hm? Gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod. He starts slow, inserting only a single digit into your hole. It’s cold, intrusive, but not unwelcome. The smooth metal strokes your walls from the inside, eliciting more sweet sounding moans from your lips. He soon adds another finger into you, and another, filling you up to the brim with the artificial appendages. 

“Mmpf—s’too much,” you wriggle in Caleb’s hold but he keeps you still with the strength of his left arm. 

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and your eyes fly open to meet his. It contrasts the praise you were receiving only moments before, and this felt like a step back. You want to make him proud again, “tsk, you can handle one more, can’t you?” 

So you agree. You agree even when all four of his fingers are fully inserted and you don’t think you’ll be able to stretch to accommodate anything else. You’re out of breath from the arduous feat, using all of your restraint to not clench down on his tendrils. 

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “There you go. Good girl. Knew you could.” Slowly he slides his fingers out, then back inside. “You like this?” Yes, “want me to stop?” No.

Caleb easily reaches your g spot, assaulting your sensitive spot over and over. He alternates between fast and slow, teasing you, slowing down when you’re feeling good and speeding up again only once you’ve already adjusted to the tempo. You feel the coils in your stomach tighten, his steel thumb catches onto your clit, stimulating you to the extreme. 

“Caleb—haah, gunna come,” you mewl in between pants. 

He sets brutal momentum. “Yeah? Come for me baby, come on my fingers. That’s it.” He reconnects his mouth to yours and that’s all it takes.

Your climax crashes over you; you convulse around him and his fingers, screaming out in pleasure. You allow your body to fully relax as he finger-fucks you through your orgasm. You don’t even notice the clear liquid gushing from your pussy until you hear it, squelching flesh on flesh. You look down. Caleb’s hand and his entire lap is covered in your slick but he’s smiling. He thinks it made him even harder. 

Both of you stare at the squirt-covered mechanism on his arm. Neither knowing if the threat of electrocution will arise. Answer seems to be no.

Hes out of breath and looking at you like you’re his world, “holy shit, baby. That was fucking hot. Think you can do that again? Squirt on my cock like that?”

“Still so sensitive,” and it’s true, you were, but aroused more than anything, “gonna try, though.”

“Atta girl. C’mere.” He scoots back on the cot so you’ll be able to sit on his lap comfortably. You take his dick and sheathing it smoothly to the hilt, still stretched out from his fingers. The feeling of him being completely inside evokes synchronous moans from the both of you. 

Both his hands find their place on your ass, beginning to move you up and down. You let him maneuver you, using his biceps to steady yourself. It doesn’t take long until you feel the heat pooling in your lower stomach again. This time he feels it too, the way your pussy clenches around his cock, the way your heat grows increasingly hotter. He runs a cold metallic finger down your spine, soothing you in the process.

“Come f’me darlin’, squirt all over my cock like you just did on my fingers. Do it.” You whimper at the authoritative tone in his voice and follow his command nonetheless, coming undone to his relentless stamina. Your second round of squirt spills onto the floor and ruins the sheets but Caleb doesn’t care, he’s preoccupied with chasing his own high. 

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” his name repeats from your mouth like a mantra, the only word in your vocabulary, it seems.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunts in your ear, each thrust serving as punctuation. 

Your essence mixes with his when he finally fills you with his sticky load, keeping his cock snug inside. You’re absolutely spent, post-orgasmic eyes lidded and you rest your forehead on his bare shoulder. 

“Did it work?” You mumble using all the effort you had left.

“Hm? Did what work, love?” He’s spaced out, but still listening, gliding his hand along your spine.

“It distract you enough? Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

His attention comes back when he hears you utter the words. Ah, that.

With his right hand he scoops up a combination of your squirt and his cum. You yelp when he slaps it across your ass; the wet slick reduces friction had the bionic hand been dry. It’s less painful, but you’re already expecting bruises in the morning. He hisses when you instinctually clench down on him. He spanks you again, anyway.

“Nah, I think the pain is already starting to come back. Down for a few more rounds?”

ok thank you for reading. this is the most insane thing i've written. not my proudest work n itd be better if i had another day to think over it but i have never been a patient person. that’s not me excusing anything btw i take all responsibility for this mostrosity

[vilixxr]

3.0 sketchpage

[vilixxr]

"I guess no one ever taught you how to be a real man."

cw. : none - gaz x reader

the ice in your glass has started to melt, watering down the drink you’ve barely touched. you don’t know why you’re still sitting here—maybe out of spite, maybe because you’re not ready to go home and admit to yourself that you’ve been stood up. again.

it’s always the same. boys who don’t have the decency to be honest, who think half-hearted effort counts as charm. you’re so sick of them. sick of waiting on men who don’t know how to act like men.

laughter erupts from the corner of the bar, a group of rowdy guys in fatigues and plain tees, the type that carry themselves like they own the room. military, most likely. you ignore them, focusing instead on the slow circles your fingertip traces around the rim of your glass.

“rough night?”

the voice is smooth, laced with amusement but not mocking. you glance up as a man slides onto the barstool beside you with understated confidence. dark skin, sharp brown eyes, a smirk that looks far too good on his face.

you exhale, shaking your head. “something like that.” you hesitate before adding, “stood up.”

he huffs, a quiet noise of annoyance, shaking his head as he settles into the seat beside you. “dickhead.” the way he says it, all matter-of-fact—makes you huff out a laugh, even as a bitter edge lingers in your chest.

a beat passes before he says, “did you know penguins propose to their mates with a pebble?”

you blink at him, caught off guard. “what?”

he lifts his hands like he’s swearing an oath. “swear it. find the perfect pebble, drop it at their feet—bam. lifelong commitment.”

it pulls a laugh from you, sudden and genuine, shaking your head as you finally take a sip of your drink. “that easy, huh?”

he grins, then. “well, i’m not proposing, but—” he reaches into his pocket, fishing around before pulling something out and setting it on the table between you. a tiny pebble, the kind that would get stuck in the grooves of your shoe. his voice is softer now, but sure. “i’d like to take you out proper, if you’d have me.”

you stare at the pebble, then at him. he doesn’t waver, just watches you with that easy confidence, like he already knows the answer. you nod. just once, but it’s enough.

looks like you’ve got yourself real man.

mlist | lyrics mlist

[vilixxr]

I know we love to cast Gaz as Mr. Perfect relationship goals but I genuinely think it's not until he dates you that he learns what a relationship is outside of appearances.

Like you start dating, and he brings you your favorite flowers every two weeks (even though you prefer pictures, bc the smell of them makes you sneeze) because he sees Price do it for his wife.

He gives you back massages (even though what's really bothering you is your feet) because Soap was bragging about how he did that for his bairn at home.

He even eats you out every time he spends the night (this...this you don't have a problem with) because Simon mentioned that's how he keeps his Bird happy, and Gaz knows that happy wife equals happy life.

But he doesn't understand compromise. He doesn't get that you want him to go to the work party and mingle with the ass hats you complain about every day.

He doesn't understand why you want him to stay in with you instead of going out with one of his mates for the fifth weekend in a row.

Because you're still there at the end. He romanticizes the idea that he comes home to you – because that's what the books on your shelves say, right? The bit who's so jaded by life but had a soft spot for you?

It's not til you're halfway out the door, tears streaming down your face, that he realizes how superficial he's been. When you ask him "what do you even like about me? What do you even like about what we do?" And he can't answer.

It takes him weeks actually.

Weeks to figure out how you would actually listen when he'd critique interrogation techniques on TV. Or the way that you agreed to go to the military ball with him – even though you'd rather have cuddled up with a movie and some snacks. But worst is how you'd make his mom's soup whenever he had a particularly hard week, not because he asked, but because you knew he needed it.

Once he does figure it out, though, he's determined. He will be getting you back. And he's going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

[vilixxr]

my friend made me really enjoy them sorry

🤲🐦

[vilixxr]

Arguing with Simon has to be a unique type of annoyance.

I imagine he’s not much for yelling, unless he perceives there to be a grave danger to your or his safety in some way. But he’s definitely standing there with his face kind of balled up, like he’s annoyed by the whole thing, unfortunately that’s just his face. He has a smart mouth and definitely says things that irk you. Definitely hits you with the whole “no need to yell” line or “don’t know why you’re so mad”. Things that immediately turn your bitch meter up to one hundred.

Next problem is that once the argument starts, he doesn’t want to back down until there is a concrete solution. Doesn’t want you to wander off or shut a door on him. It makes him unbalanced when you’re pissed at him. So it makes him poke and prod until there is something tangible for him to do. A task, a gift, or words for him to say to make you forgive him. Because of that, he’s often constantly trying to solve the problem instead of really understanding why it was there in the first place.

He gets better at it eventually. Realizes when he’s pushing too hard. Often making an excuse for a smoke break so he can step out and clear his head instead of crowding you. It’s usually better once there’s been some space and you both can start from a new angle.

[vilixxr]

Ode - Vignette one (Prologue)

Grief Counselling au -> Ghost x reader

CW: Mentions of grief and loss | mini series - unedited - 800 words dividers -> @/cafekitsune

something small and cathartic to chip away at :)

When you peek your head through the door of the community room, you already decide you shouldn’t be here. 

Everyone looks at you; notably, the woman standing in front of everyone with bleary eyes clutching a piece of cloth. You really shouldn’t be here. 

“Sorry.” you whisper. “Is this the…” your eyes dart around, voice getting quieter. “-grief counseling room?” 

A man with a sympathetic look and a combover nods, wiping at a stray tear. “Sit anywhere.” he urges, prompting you to scurry over to a free seat. You get a quaint greeting nod from a girl beside you who can’t be any older than seventeen. You nod back, averting eye contact. 

“Jenette- As you were saying?” the man speaks up, prompting the woman standing to tremble a bit, take a deep breath, and continue- fingers flexing around the small blanket in her hands.

Your eyes start to glaze over, perhaps a protective measure courtesy of your psyche as you zone out. You focus on anything but the shake in the woman’s voice; the way your pants have ridden up on your waist in the uncomfortable chair, the feeling of your socks, the sound of a woman crying. You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale, only pulled out of your fog when a loud, thundering noise cuts through it. Blinking, you realize everyone in the room is clapping softly. 

“That was absolutely beautiful Jenette, thank you for sharing.” The man guiding the counseling coos, standing up and patting her on the shoulder as they pass. Your skin crawls, you know the exact way a kind hand feels on your shoulder- the act of comfort now making you a little sick with how many times you've been on the receiving end of it.

Once at the lip of the circle of chairs, his eyes sweep over the attendees, landing on you. “Anyone else feel like sharing before we break off for partnered activities?” 

You shake your head silently and he purses his lips. “No one?” he pauses. “That’s okay, everything with time." His hands clasp together. “Okay. You all know each other, I’ll let you split into groups.” 

You flounder for a moment as his words sink in, eyes darting around. You certainly don’t know anyone here. When you look to the girl beside you, she gives you a sheepish look and it’s then you realize she's already paired up with a kind looking older woman. You nod apologetically. As you begin to internally panic, you’re slowly approached by the man with the combover, and now that he's close enough, you can see his name tag reads ‘Christopher’ 

“You can pair with…” he hums for a moment before his eyes light up. “Simon,” he calls out. “You still haven't paired up.” Though phrased as a question, you can tell it's a statement. 

Your eyes draw upwards and through the other attendees, landing on a massive, looming thing with a hollow gaze. He pushes off the wall beside the refreshments table, but doesn’t move closer. 

“You pair up with Simon over there.” Christopher directs, passing you a paper. 

You take the sheet and tentatively pad over to him. He’s somehow even bigger up close. 

Your greeting gets caught in your throat, but you can't help wondering if he’d even acknowledge if you did manage to get one out. He sips from his paper cup, steam trailing from it as the little stringed paper flutters across his prominent knuckles in turn. 

“D-drinks?” you finally spit out, earning a thumb jammed in the direction of the table directly to his right. “oh.” you sigh. “yeah- yeah, of course. Thanks.”

He grunts in response, taking another sip. 

You feel his eyes on you as you fix yourself a coffee and squirm internally. 

“Everyone settled?” Christopher asks, causing Simon to direct his attention away. “I’ve given each pair of you a list of common misconceptions when it comes to grief, look it over with your partner and discuss- is there anything that stands out? Surprises you?” 

The room fills with a soft hum as you look at the sheet, eyes falling on one in particular.

‘Myth: Grief will always resolve after a set amount of time’

Simon glances over and you look up, eyes trembling. “H-here.” you say, passing him the sheet.

You resign yourself to small sips of burnt coffee as you wait for the activity to be over.

Then, you find yourself coming back every week. You and Simon, though you can count the conversations you've had on one hand- have formed an alliance in your head, crowding the seats nearest to the refreshments table. You know it's more likely that he’s commonly sitting alone through these group sessions, but you like the thought that he saves it for you. Maybe he does, who knows. 

You pass quiet conversations through glances, and quickly catch on to the fact that he’s incredibly well-versed in picking up on small queues; the way he steps back to make room, makes himself just a bit smaller around the grieving women of the group. He often looks dismissive, but something tells you he’s always got one notched ear perked and listening. You know this is something he must have honed, but wonder if he was always so quiet in return. 

[vilixxr]

Something something, stag/deer coded knight Simon riley, because that characterisation is just speaking to me.

There's this gritty wilderness to him that's unlike a predator- he's not made of snarling jaws and frosted black fur that creeps and stalks, keening to sink his teeth into anything he deems tasty. He's something else- something just as enduring and strong. Something that survives in this cutthroat existence, despite being something that can be perceived as prey.

He's made of muscle and height and jagged antlers. Sharp keen eyes, and a stare that sees through walls. Listening. Watching. Observing for danger to fend off. His strength is silent. All he needs to do is stand in a room and command with his eyes and stance, and onlookers will fall meek. He doesn't even seem like a man- more like a creature from the woods, one that parents would warn their children of to stay away if they want to stay alive. The way he intensely stares with his dark doe eyes and stands tall as if he were bearing a breast of muscle and bone and soul of something old and wise beyond his years.

He'd always shedding velvet, shedding skin, shedding weakness and identity. Losing parts of himself to become anew- become something that can serve something more than just desire. Purpose.

He was once a little spindly legged fawn. Freckled and small, fluttery blonde lashes and wide black eyes. Always stumbling and coping- pushed to the back of the group and dismissed, left to fend for himself. Cast aside to survive in this harsh world that devours anything meek and soft. No longer a little fawn that scrapes by to survive. Now he's the trees that he once looked up at with awe and fright and wonder. All imposing height. Towering and formidable- proud and stoic and unwavering. Moody and territorial and righteous by his own means.

He grew out of his meek body and thin skin and tearful eyes to be something that could protect you- to be the thing he needed to be- no, wanted to be.

He doesn't blame you for not recognising him, sweet thing. It was so long ago. You couldn't possibly guess that the forgotten little doe that once shyly approached you in that barn all those years ago is now your formidable protector who bestows the grace and brute strength of a stag now. Rough and grizzled and bloodied.

Maybe once he's content with playing this little guessing game by giving you glances and gentle passive looks, he'll tell you who he is. Watch your face fall in awe and shock, maybe a little fear, and then finally into something akin to happiness.

There's no reason to fear anymore. He did it, like he said he would... He said he'd look after you, didn't he? Now he can.

[vilixxr]

“Oblivious”

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon remains oblivious, thinking the gestures are just friendly. When you suggested spending time together outside of work, Simon misunderstands, leaving you frustrated.

(This is just a short story, idk if i’ll make a part two but just comment your ideas and i’ll make one and tag you❤️)

———

The dim lights of the bar flickered as the sounds of muted chatter and clinking glasses filled the air. New York’s night buzzed outside, but inside, it was a quiet retreat. You sat at the bar, nursing your drink, eyes darting toward the entrance whenever the door opened. It had been a month since you'd seen him—Simon. Ghost. It didn’t matter what name he went by, the effect he had on you was always the same; magnetic, mysterious, completely and utterly out of reach.

You hadn’t expected to see him tonight. Simon was the type to keep to himself, often burying his head in his work or disappearing for days on end. But here he was, standing in the doorway, scanning the room as if he'd just come in to escape the chaos of the outside world. He locked eyes with you from across the room, and for a split second, your heart skipped a beat.

He walked over, silent as always, his heavy boots making soft thuds on the hardwood floor. He pulled up a chair beside you and ordered his usual; whiskey, neat.

“Mind if I join?” His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of warmth beneath the cool tone. You’d come to know it well over the past few months—after missions, during downtime, in those rare, fleeting moments when you could just be two people, not soldiers.

“Not at all,” you said, your voice a little too quick. You cleared your throat, shifting your gaze to your drink. "Rough day?"

“You could say that,” Simon muttered, taking the glass of whiskey the bartender slid toward him. He didn’t drink like most people—he didn’t savor it, didn’t talk about it. He just drank, like it was something to numb the world around him.

You fiddled with the rim of your glass, trying to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach. You had been trying to figure out when exactly it happened—when you’d started feeling this way about Simon. At first, it had been nothing more than a friendly camaraderie. But over the past month, you’d found yourself looking for any excuse to be near him, to talk to him, to make him notice you.

You felt ridiculous.

"How've you been?" you asked, trying to sound casual, hoping the question wouldn’t betray just how much you longed to be close to him. To hear him say something—anything—that might hint at the way you felt.

Simon leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with a raised brow. "Been good. Same old, same old. You?"

You bit your lip, feeling a slight blush creep onto your cheeks. You had so many things you wanted to say—so many things you wanted to ask. But you couldn't. Not yet. “Yeah, you know... same here.” you muttered, toying with your drink again. “Just trying to stay busy.”

Simon nodded, his eyes drifting over to the TV screen above the bar, which was tuned to some late-night news. He didn’t seem to notice the way you were watching him now, a little too intently. Or maybe he did, but he said nothing.

You decided to try something a little bolder this time.

“You're always so... serious,” you said, half-laughing to try and make it sound light. “I bet you don't know how to relax properly.”

He smirked slightly. “Im not here to relax. I'm here to unwind.”

“Right,” you said, leaning just a little closer. “But, you know, unwinding doesn't have to mean just drinking whiskey.”

There was a slight quirk of his eyebrow, but he didn’t seem to catch the hint. “Im not much of a ‘relax and chill’ kind of guy, you know that.”

“Maybe,” you muttered under your breath, almost wishing he’d just get it. “You could try,” you added quickly. “It’s not a bad thing. To unwind with someone else.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but the words came out a little heavier than you intended.

He chuckled, a dry sound that made your chest tighten. “Im fine. Don’t worry about me.”

You took a long sip of your drink, trying to hide the sting that echoed in your chest. Don’t worry about him? Bullshit. You always had, ever since that first mission you’d worked together. The way he always kept his distance, the way he barely spoke unless it was necessary, but when he did, it was always calculated, always sharp. The way he protected the team with his life but never let anyone get close enough to see the cracks in his armor.

You didn't even know why you cared. But you did. And that made it hurt more than it should have.

“So, I was thinking,” you said, trying to shift the focus, not letting the weight of the conversation crash down on you. “Maybe we should... you know, do something fun sometime. Like outside of all this.” You gestured vaguely at the bar, at the uniforms you both wore on missions, the responsibilities that always seemed to weigh you down. “Take a day off. No missions. No work. Just... normal stuff.”

Simon tilted his head, as if he were considering it. “Imnot really the ‘fun’ type,” he said, his tone so neutral it was hard to read. “But sure. If you’re up for it, we could grab a drink somewhere else sometime.”

Somewhere else? Your heart skipped again, but not in the way you wanted. It was as though you were still just teammates, still only worthy of a “let’s grab a drink.” No promise of anything more, no acknowledgment of the flirty hints you'd been dropping.

Is he... that oblivious?

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, fighting to keep your frustration under control. “Right. Of course.” you said quickly, but your voice faltered slightly. “You’re not the fun type. I get it.”

Simon gave you a quick glance, then turned back to his drink. He didn’t seem to notice how you had tensed up, the way your smile felt forced.

"Yeah. Just not much for hanging out like that." he said, a shrug of indifference in his shoulders.

And you? You sat there, every part of you aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

[vilixxr]

always everyone else’s fault

[vilixxr]

[vilixxr]

"The birth of a burden"

Another mouthwashing fanart with religious subtext yay!!