#syleb

Sylus: “Hm?”

MC: “…Did you guys get into a fight?”

Caleb: “No, why would you think that?”

MC: “Well the house is pretty trashed and you both are covered in bite marks.”

Caleb: “Ah shit. Sorry about that Pipsqueak, we’ll clean it up now.”

Sylus: “I’ll grab the broom.”

MC: “So you guys aren’t gonna explain why you two were fighting?”

Caleb: “We weren’t though.”

MC: “Okay then explain why the house is a mess and the bite marks.”

Sylus: “We were trying to see who was dominant between the two of us.”

MC: “…what?”

Sylus: “We were testing who was more dominant. Me or Caleb.”

MC: “…and the house is a mess cause why?”

Sylus: “We kept on pinning each other onto things.”

MC: “…Do I even wanna know about the bite marks?”

Sylus: “I don’t know. Do you?”

insanely fucking crowapple pilled right now. | sylus/caleb/mc headcanon, nsfw + introspection

caleb who’s known nothing but control, gravity’s manipulation at his behest going him all the power to use the force he deems necessary. he’ll burn the wold for you and hold you until he withers. he fucks you with power, a firm grip—a steady hold that borders on paranoid. nobody will take you from him. you’re his anchor.

sylus who relishes freedom and breathes autonomy. he’ll watch you shine, from the side, watch you dazzle on your own as you conquer whatever challenge lies on your path. he makes love to you with gentleness, trust—and a slight curb to the all consuming desire that swells at his core. you’re his other half, but he’s terrified of hurting you.

with sylus, caleb can let go. relinquish control. give up and be taken. he’s reluctant at first—fucking petrified at the idea of being unravelled like that. he’s always tightly wound like a spring. but this spring is starting to rust.

nobody is really immune to sylus’ charm. so caleb falls. and takes the leap into yielding. he surrenders himself to the fiend.

sylus is all too happy to oblige, to take and take and take without worrying that caleb will break. caleb won’t even crack, he’ll take it in stride. practically indestructible by design.

“you weren’t made to carry all this weight, colonel. isn’t it just wonderful to let go?”

and caleb needs the force anyways. needs to shut the fear out, needs to not think for one fucking second.

“i need it to hurt.”

he finds pain in the relentless speed that sylus fucks him with—hands digging into his hips hard enough to bruise his skin, but not deep enough to mar his soul. it hurts perfectly.

sylus needs to be undone. stripped bare to reveal the ache of passion within, and let it feed. caleb gives and sylus takes. they have a balance. tumultuous, but a balance.

caleb learns to love you like sylus does. not distant, but present in a way that doesn’t border on something manic.

suggestive, making out, mc vaguely mentioned | crossposted to ao3

Caleb could break this man and he would dissolve with a grin on his face. This fiend would take the force of gravity in stride, and let matter collapse in on itself.

happy pride month! it's june here anyways. im going to be keeping a drabble/oneshot collection for li x li fics + i'm open to any suggestions and requests :ppp

“You spoiled her rotten before I even got the chance.” Sylus’ mouth plants itself onto his with nothing short of contending passion.

Caleb holds the zeal of something far larger than himself. But not the heart. Sylus sees right through him. Caleb Xia’s heart is shrewd, a twisted little thing. Sylus sees what calls this broken machine to action. 

What sputters the little bleeds that pour out of that aching organ. His first love and the commander of his final death. A tragedy indeed.

Caleb gasps, “Just doing my duty.” He welcomes the onslaught. Embraces the flame of competition—soul and root battling for what they claim is theirs. It’s a rightful change of pace, Caleb thinks. No gutting worry in the back of his head to be careful—no pit in his stomach.

He could break this man and he would dissolve with a grin on his face. This fiend would take the force of gravity in stride, and let matter collapse in on itself.

“Is there a drill sergeant in there?” Sylus chuckles the question in his break for air, but the flick of a finger against his forehead holds another weight. “Your mind’s running a regiment.” The scrunch of Caleb’s nose pokes at the mirth in Sylus’ voice.

“And yours is invasive.” Caleb barely manages to get the words out before he decides the oxygen isn’t worth it and latches his teeth to Sylus’ bottom lip.

There’s no balance here, not a twirl of serenity or a dance on the line of equilibrium. Here they are lopsided and jagged, biting hard and kissing harder. Fang clicks against fang, shackled chains are pulled taut and desire is caught in a violent flurry.

Here, fate cannot touch Sylus’ heart.