forcaleb

[forcaleb]

should i write caleb or xavier or rafayel

[forcaleb]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡ one call away 🤍 xavier 星回 ⋆⟡࿐

࣪˖˙⟡ pairing: xavier x reader

࣪˖˙⟡ summary: xavier calls you while you’re away on a long mission, and he desperately needs your help <3 he misses you, he longs for you and he just can’t do this alone anymore

࣪˖˙⟡ word count: 3.3k

࣪˖˙⟡ tags: 18+, mdni!!!, phone sex, porn with feelings, with a little bit of plot, established relationship, masturbation, pet names, desperate xavier, he is pathetic for the reader, he loves her so much, love confessions but not for the first time!! longing, dirty talk, praise kink whaow

inspired by ming’s art @/abclarett on twitter!! you can find it here. give her a lot of love shes absolutely amazing and please enjoy this lil cup of filth!! i love xavier i want him to feel good, don’t we all

ִ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

Xavier teleported back into his apartment, and a quiet, weary sigh escaped his lips. His arm went straight to massage at his shoulder, which was sore and tense after hours spend at the no-hunt zone, where he killed countless of wanderers for the sole purpose of killing some time as well.

He was usually patient—lifetimes spend waiting, the passage of time irrelevant, most of the time nearly unnoticeable. But that was before you happened. A peaceful presence, his guiding little light, making his days a whole lot brighter. Every day now felt exciting and new; every night either passionate or too long, with the knowledge that the next day he would wake up and see you again, giving him all the more reason to fall asleep quickly, just to shorten your time apart.

It’s not that he couldn’t live without you—he just truly, genuinely didn’t want to.

At least, that what was he thought before you left for a secret mission without him, leaving him neglected and sulking for what was now almost two weeks time. Two weeks without your hotpot dates, movie nights and visits at the arcade, where he could see your beautiful smile every time you both managed to snatch a plushie. Two weeks without long walks, when he could hold your hand and listen to your voice talking about anything and everything, eyes shining with mirth and affection so bare it occasionally still made him blush. Two weeks without cuddles. Two weeks without kisses. Two weeks without him touching your soft, oh so soft skin, and your warm hands wandering on his body, brushing, caressing, fondling and stroking—

Two weeks without sex. And he was so painfully aware of that fact, every single muscle in his body tense and longing, thoughts that were a week ago only filled with your bubbly laugh and pretty eyes, now haunted by your soft moans and visions of your body, that he was so desperate to hold close again.

To say that he was horny was an understatement. He missed you, every single part of you so deeply longed for, he feared what he will do once he sees you again. He was starved, and it started to get on his nerves.

Why weren’t you coming back to him already? Weren’t you as useless as he was after so much time apart? You didn’t even call every night, the feeling of being neglected scratched at his brain every now and then.

With a big frown he took off his hunter uniform and went straight to shower, hoping that it would be enough to calm him down. Praying the warmth of the running water will wash away his exhaustion along with his longing.

And when he was later lying down in too huge of a bed, your smell already absent from the pillow that he considered to be yours for a long time now, he found himself still desperate for some kind of a release.

“F—Fuck—” He moaned quietly, stroking his length leisurely, thumb touching the tip after each pump, spreading the bead of the precum around it to make the slide easier. He reached for the lube you had stored in his bedside drawer, and poured a bit onto his hand, hissing with how cold it was when it spilled all over his cock.

He wasn’t used to it, you were usually the one to warm it up for him with your breath.

He whimpered, his thoughts jumping straight to you—the images of your body, your silky smooth skin, angelic face and melodic voice making him stroke harder and harder, hips going upwards, chasing the memory of being inside you. His mouth opened wide, moan after moan escaping freely, grunt after grunt forming a prayer that the release will come to him quickly, just so he could fall asleep without this stupid, unbearable need.

But without you by his side, it just didn’t work.

“C’mon, c’mon….” Breathless whisper came before another soft grunt, hand stroking his length faster and faster. “God, p—please. C’mon—” His body turned to lay on his side, his nose burrowing into your pillow, desperate to catch even a ghost of your sweet scent, anything to help him come. The material did a good job at hiding his already red face and drowning out his pants, however, the evidence of your presence was completely gone.

And that made him realize that he had to swallow his pride and ask for help. God, he wanted to hear you.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand and dialed your number, fingers going frantically over the small keyboard. One signal, his cock still throbbed in his now unmoving hand. Second signal, he gripped himself delicately at the base, biting his lip in impatience.

“Please, baby, pick up. Please, please, please—" His whispers suddenly cut off by your response at the other end.

“Xay? Hi baby, I thought you were asleep already.” Your voice nearly made him jump, the signal clear and loud, the pet name and your sweet timbre almost making him moan out loud. His hand was still unmoving, not wanting to do anything without your permission.

“H—Hey. Hey, I’m—I’m not.” Xavier answered awkwardly and cringed, hating how breathless he sounded already. “Are you���? Did I wake you up?” He didn’t even think about it being an option and now he started to feel guilty.

“No, no, I just finished showering. Actually I didn’t want to disturb you, but I—”

“I need you.” He blurted out and bit his tongue, embarrassment at being so desperate warming up his cheeks. “Sorry, I—I just miss you so much. And—and I need you, I keep touching myself but I can’t come—Not without you. The memory of you is not enough anymore.” He heard your quiet gasp at the end of the line and it was enough to make him sweat. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the bed frame. “Can you help me starlight? Please? I just need to hear you.”

You were completely quiet for a second, as if shocked, but not a beat later you hummed, the sound of the bedsheets rustling on your side reaching his ears.

“Oh, my poor little bunny. Of course I’ll help you.” You cooed and he swore under his breath, hand tightening on his cock, your voice already making him rock-hard again. “You miss me that much?”

“Y—yeah. ‘F course I do. Always.” The last word whimpered pathetically, a drop of sweat making its way down his temple.

“It’s only been less than two weeks since—”

“Too long. Too long ‘f me. Please.” His breath was rugged, eyes blinking slowly, your voice alone already undoing him. “Talk to me. ‘Bout anything. I just want to—” His jaw tightened, brows furrowed and he had to stop himself from crying out of the helplessness.

“Mmm, okay. Are you touching yourself already?” He twitched, hand still, your gentle, patronizing tone working wonders in terms of getting him closer.

“Mhm. Have been for a while but—” He started but realized that he might disgust you, and he was trying so hard not to stroke himself while he talked to you. “I mean—Not now, now I’m not doing it, I was waiting for you to say it’s okay, but I did before I called, and I can’t—” You giggled at the other side and if Xavier’s heart could beat out of his chest, it would at this very moment.

“It’s fine, bunny. I want you to do it now, okay? Could you touch yourself for me, please?” He straight up whimpered into the phone and when he closed his eyes he could imagine you sitting right next to him, looking so beautiful, and soft, and bright, looking at him from underneath your lashes with these deadly, shining eyes of yours and he—

“A—ah. For you, yeah. Yeah.” The squelching sound of him stroking himself echoed through the room again, and he started out slow, the sensation already a hundred times better. “I’m doing it, can you hear it?”

“Yes, I can. You can go faster, don’t be shy. I want you to feel good, Xavi.” Xavier moaned and his head hit the bed frame again, his hand holding the phone shaking from the way your voice sounded right next to his ear. Your tone was soft and straight up seductive, he was loosing it fast. His hand started going up and down quicker, breaths short and fast, mouth open wider, lips pink and swollen from constant biting.

“L—Like this, star? Am I—am I doing it right?” The wet sound was getting louder and the sharp sparks of pleasure hit him again, and again, and again. But what he really needed was your attention.

“You’re doing it perfect. Good boy.” He choked on a moan and the phone fell out of his hand, his fist still chasing the pleasure. The fabric of his shirt started bothering him so he took it into his teeth, trying to stifle the sounds in the process. He picked up the phone hastily, embarrassment entirely forgotten. You were the only one on his mind, and he needed to hear more of your sweet praises. He wanted you to call him a good boy again. He wanted to be good. “Everything alright, baby?”

“Mhm, mhm, mhmmmm.” The shirt muffled his voice, his spit wetting the material, but he didn’t care. Not when you were so lovely to him. “More. F—fuck, what do you want me—” Said through his teeth biting into the fabric and you moaned quietly at how broken he already sounded. The sound made another glob of precum leak from his hard cock.

“Keep stroking for me, bunny.” His eyes went back into his skull and he did what he was told.

“Mmhm—”

“Like that, yeah. Faster. Hold yourself tighter, you feeling good?”

“Yessss. S’good. S’good.” He turned onto his side and moaned uncontrollably, tears already appearing in his eyes. He held himself tight and stroked until there was absolutely nothing else on his mind, his hair sticking to his wet forehead, making him look like an absolute mess.

“If I were there, I would help you...” You whispered and he put you on the speaker, placing the phone on your pillow. His hand never left his cock.

“You would?” Came out weak, shirt discarded—it was too wet anyway, his body already glistening with sweat. He laid down and closed his eyes, waiting for your response.

“I would kiss your lips, then your chest. Down, down, down to your cock.”

“Yessss.”

“Then I would take you into my hand—”

“Please—”

“And after you begged me so sweetly I would take you into my mouth.” He imagined your plush lips around him, going up and down, your voice ringing in his ears. He heard his blood pumping and his breath was so uneven he thought you will finally be the end of him. “And then… I would show Linkon a real anomaly.” He breathed out a laugh into your pillow, eyes crinkling at the corners, and it was quickly followed by a little moan when he heard you laugh too.

“Sh—shit, does it make me pathetic if I say that still really gets me goin’?” His words slurred, precum mixing with lube making everything so wet and slippery it was starting to make him see stars. He didn’t stop his stroking even for a second. Your cute teasing turned him on too.

“Well, yeah. Pathetically in love with me.” You answered adorably and he bit his lip again, smiling wildly.

“Yeah. That I am.” An honest answer and a breath, he was getting close, body burning.

“I love you too, Xavier.” You said and he surprised himself by how much it affected him, a sharp moan coming out of him, his dick twitched, his thumb stroking at his tip now. He swore. “I love you. So much. And I love the way you sound now. You’re still okay?”

His body shook, the other hand went to grab at his balls, and he nearly growled back in response.

“Yes, yes, yes. Please say my name again. Please, please—”

“Xavier. I love you, Xavier. And I miss my sweet, little bunny…”

“Yes, God, fuck, I miss you so much. I miss holding you, touching you, f—fuck—” You whispered his name again and he cried out, grabbing himself harder and nearly humping the mattress. He was drooling from his open mouth, saliva sliding right to his chin.

“I miss you too. And if I was there with you I would let you touch me all you want. I would put your hands on my chest, let you fondle them—”

He imagined you under him, his hands unbuckling your bra, grabbing your boobs and squeezing, kneading in a way that he always did, in a way that made him so, so relaxed.

“You are always so, so, so, so soft…”

“I would kiss your neck, too. And if you were a good boy, I would let you taste me.” An image appeared behind his closed eyelids, your legs spread, waiting for him to put his tongue where he wanted to the most.

He twitched.

“I need that. I—mMHnm—I do. I do—Ah—I would be good, so good to you…”

“And after you had your fill—”

“Never. I would never want to sto—”

“Then I would let you slide right inside me.” Xavier was humping the mattress now, tears slowly falling from his eyes, cheeks and lips red, the image of you naked underneath him making his body shake, hand stroking frantically. “Completely raw.”

“F—Fuck, you’ll let me? You’ll really let me? God, please..” He was thrusting his hips now, hand still going up and down, sheets and the mattress a mess but he didn’t care. He was so close he could taste it, and he stopped caring about making a mess a long time ago.

“Harder, bunny. Let me hear you…” Another moan, more broken this time. “And if you made the exact sounds you’re making right now…”

“Yeah? Mhhhmmm—Yeah? What then, s—starlight? I would fuck you so good. H—holy, I would give it to you so good you would never leave me again. You would never make me wait so—” He was babbling, full body shaking and tensing, arm starting to hurt with how quickly he moved it on his cock. He bit the pillow and hid his face in it, head nuzzling into the place you always occupied while you were visiting him.

He was so close. So, so close, he already felt the build up, he was already too sensitive, your voice sounded so sweet next to his ear and he just needed—

“—I would let you come inside.” He cried out, loudly, body shaking, the image making his vision white, and he came so hard he almost blacked out. Incoherent words fell out of his lips and he grabbed his cock harder, rutting into the bed, face hidden into your pillow, mouth open and jaw sore. His cum stained the mattress but he was too far gone to care, a few hard breaths and a whimper, and his body finally started to calm down.

He fell onto his wet back, pillow under his head now, making him almost drown in its softness. His eyes were closed and he focused on his breathing, chest going up and down, filled with the warm feeling of contentment. His arm reached for your side of the bed again, and he sighed feeling how cold it still was.

“Are you still there, Xay?” He heard your quiet voice, laced with mirth and he breathed out a bubbly laugh too, feeling this light for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah. But you nearly ended me.” He shielded his eyes with his arm, still trying to control his breathing. It was easier to imagine you next to him like this. “Thank you, starlight. What a way to go.” You laughed again and he smirked slowly, sleepiness already overtaking him.

“You’re so welcome. I love hearing you like this.” Voice brushed his ears like a feather, making him shiver. He hummed and raised slowly, the clean hand ruffling his hair that sticked to his forehead uncomfortably. “Made me want you even more.” Xavier gulped and took the phone into his hand, whispering into the speaker.

“That so? Then maybe it’s this star’s turn to make you fall apart?” He started walking to the bathroom and he cleaned himself up a little, and then glanced up at the mirror.

He looked ruined. He felt warm. He still missed you, terribly so.

“Do you even have the energy? You always feel so sleepy afterwards.”

“But I don’t want to hang up yet. I want to keep listening to you.” He dried his hands and sighed picking up the phone, turning off the speaker mode and pressing it into his ear. “I want to make you feel good too. I won’t be able to fall asleep if I don’t.”

“Hmm, then I guess it’s a good thing.” He heard footsteps echoing from your side of the phone and he got confused. He thought you were already ready to sleep, where were you going at this hour?

“You guess?” Xavier grabbed his gray sweatpants and put them on slowly, phone held between his head and shoulder. A yawn escaped his lips, yet he was beyond excited to hear your moans and broken pleas. The night was still young and he wanted to take care of you in a way that will made you dream about him too.

Your answer came the moment he finished tying a little bow to hold the material on his hips.

“Yeah. Because that means you will still have the energy to open the door.”

He halted, one leg already on his bed, whole body going tense.

“What?” He said softly, mind going million miles per hour. His heart started beating quickly and his chest squeezed in anticipation, impatience to hear your answer prickling at his warm skin.

“I’ve been back since afternoon, actually. You called me right after I took a shower, right in my apartment.” He breathed out deeply and heard his doorbell ring once, the sound drowned out by his heartbeat. You were back, you really were— “And it was really fun, but I can’t wait to get the real thing. Don’t make me wait any longer, okay?”

Xavier teleported to his door right this instant, the phone tossed somewhere between his couch and the dinner table, and he opened the door so harshly it made you jump.

You, who were still holding your phone to your ear, soft smile on your lips and lovely blush on your cheeks, looking so beautiful in your soft white pyjamas that the sight took his breath away.

And you gasped when you saw him: gray sweatpants low on his hips, the matching happy trial full on display further reddening your face. Red blotches on his skin and marks where his chest was pressed into the bedsheets a reminder of what he was doing just ten minutes earlier. And what you helped him with.

“Hi, Xavi—”

“You—” He picked you up quickly and pulled you into his apartment, hugging you to his bare chest, pressing his nose against your neck. The pressure of your back against the door made it close, and you laughed, his warmth and soft skin making you feel at ease.

And when he finally started kissing you, his eyes shining brightly and his smile pressing into your eager lips, you could only feel excited that, for you, the night had only just begun.

And as you held each other, neither of you could help but think that this was what home felt like.

ִ𓂃 ࣪˖˙⟡⋆⟡࿐

forgive me xavier for i had sinned please dont judge me at least now im free

TWITTER SAW IT FIRST!! if u want to, find me there!

if u want to support me, you can send me a kofi! <3

till next time! ♡

[forcaleb]

whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same)

✧.* summary tragedy strikes when the boy you grew up with was torn from your life, exiled to a harsh life at sea. ten years later, he returns, now a man, determined to reclaim what was so unjustly taken from him: you

✧.* warnings yandere!caleb, caleb and reader grew up together, references to wuthering heights, references to persuasion, references to bridgerton, forbidden love, regency era au, reader is a debutante, sexual tension, virginity loss, regency-era misogyny, angst with a happy ending, minors do not interact, 18+

✧.* dawn says okay so. i found myself watching the tom hardy wuthering heights movie during a mindless scroll session and thought the story really reminds me of calebmc & here is a regency era corset ripping retelling of a mashup of everything delectable and forbidden that comes with loving caleb hehe

✧.* tagging @tinycatharsis @paintedperidot @swuchu

✧.* find me on twt | a03

The clopping of horse hooves blends together with the clashing of thunder and lighting in the distance.

Unbeknownst to you, a ship departs in the horizon, and through a hail of pelting, ice-cold droplets and restrained tears, a young woman comes to terms that the love of her life has left her for the treacherous sea. 

Said man did not even give her a letter—a warning.

One morning, you woke up and the next, Caleb was gone. 

And for ten years, he never returned.

However, the yearning and hope you feel for him never did fade, and only when you hear from Helen, your grandma’s old friend and your sole guardian now that Josephine had passed away, that an Admiral from a renowned ship is returning, did you finally feel like the fog hounding you for the past 10 years cede. 

You dare not ask her if it was Caleb—the boy raised under the same roof as you, Josephine’s ward from a long-time friend who made her swear to take in the boy and give him a home since Adam and Lila died in a horrific boating accident. But, she senses your curiosity and gives a shake of her head.

“Focus on your debut tonight, my love,” Helen’s voice is soft and she touches your cheek. “We need to show you off to the world—to the Queen herself! My, you would be bedazzling and your grandma would be so proud of you.”

You swallow and nod, hiding behind a resplendent, well-practiced smile. “Of course, Helen.” Your heart burns with a deep curiosity that cannot be satiated, but no matter how much you try to weasel and worm an answer from her on the battalion of soldiers returning from war that would be in attendance at tonight’s grand ball, Helen’s lips remain sealed. 

“I do not know, child. All I have heard is that the Admiral himself is cloaked in secrecy, and he is someone fierce and valiant—strong and proud.”

Could it be…?

But, it was impossible. Caleb would never step foot into the ton again.

That was his sole promise to Josephine. 

The boy will not return, your grandma’s voice slips through the cracks of your memories. He is far too volatile and cruel. He shall be punished to a life on the seas as atonement for what he did to Moby’s son.

“Jasper was trying to hurt me—!” 

Your cries for Caleb’s clemency would not be heard by Josephine. In the corner, hidden from sight, a teenage boy around your age swipes at the blood trickling down his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. He’s roughed and bruised from protecting your honour, but to the adults in this room, he is nothing but a troublemaker—someone who would bring shame to their family. 

That was the last you would see of him. 

The next morning, his chambers were emptied, his clothes and bags packed, and Caleb was nowhere to be seen again. Josephine, tight-lipped and fuming, refused to tell you where he went—what would be of him now that he has left your family. 

It’s absurd how much a broken heart can yearn despite the fabric of time restraining her desires.

For years you’ve thought your attraction to Caleb to be a monstrous thing needing to be kept hidden under the attic boards of your subconscious—a love never to be seen and heard from again. Gone with his absence. But, it never did fade. It grew and twisted and crawled out from its hiding place, a mangled, feral thing that bled and throbbed all over for answers to where he could’ve disappeared to—why no one would put your soul at ease and grant your worries mercy to just tell you if he was alright.

If he wasn’t dead.

Instead, you’ve had to live with this gnawing, bone-deep frustration which haunts your dreams like a spectre, the ghost of a childish laugh and familiar, calloused hands reaching out for you, only for the darkness to drag him back into a warping black hole before your fingers could touch. 

A soft rap on the door knocks you out from your grisly reverie, and Helen stands there with your debut gown in a gossamer casing, carefully tucked under her arm. ��My lady? It is time to dress.” 

After hours of preening, plucking and making sure you were every bit the diamond of the season worthy, you take her arm and let her lead you to the carriage. The ton is rife with activity, as pushy mamas and unwilling papas shepherd their daughters to the palace for the highly-awaited debutante gala. Hidden in the shadows of this luxurious yet time-worn carriage, you lean against the seat, unable to breathe from how tightly Helen and the maids and laced the corset around your bodice. 

“Your mother looked every bit the picture of nerves on her big day, too,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. You muster up enough composure to shoot her a smile, sinking your fingers into the fluffy organza skirt. 

It’s a light, periwinkle blue, with the softest satin empire waistcoat overlay and a pair of teal blue slippers—the colour of your family’s crest. As the carriages pile up in front of the courtyard, you steel your nerves and follow Helen, marching behind a boisterous group of girls who could not stop giggling and pointing at the intricate archways above. 

The orders are called and girls are shuffled according to their family standing. You’re somewhere in the middle, behind a girl who’s using an arrangement of peacock feathers haloing around her head as a hat. Underdressed and unsure, you fidget next to Helen who hushes you with a swift look. “Do not look nervous—do not let them smell your fear.” 

A trumpet sounds and the doors open. One by one, girls slip through the elaborate marble archway and make their presence known to the ton. Some of them ace their curtsies flawlessly. Others, like the girl with the peacock-feather crown, faint right in front of the Queen and had to be carried out. When it comes to your turn, you keep a pleasant smile on your face, and a light, airy step, as Helen has taught you. Her Majesty looks down on you from her perch on the throne, not a ripple of emotion on her face. You curtsy as taught, and lower your eyes, making sure to look every bit the humble, sweet girl your family was trying to project to the ton. 

You think the Queen would bother to say something, but she waves her hand and dismisses you. Once out of her sight, you sag and clutch Helen’s hand. 

“Her Majesty was impressed,” your guardian whispers in excitement, and you give her a fleeting look of disbelief. 

“How so? She barely said a word.”

“It is all in the eyes, my dear,” Helen murmurs and leads you back to the carriage, where you’re to be taken back home and freshened up for tonight’s ball. “Her approval is not given in words, but in looks. As long as you do not draw a look of disgust from her, there is a chance for you to be in the running for the diamond of the season title.”

Though you doubt someone as average as you could pull off such a feat, you have no heart to rain on her optimism. As the maids scrub you down again and put you in a silver-blue gown, one that is slightly a bit more revealing and tighter than the previous dress you wore to your debut, you can’t help but think that this is to be your life from this day forward.

Constantly studied, picked apart, watched from the sidelines. You miss the carefree days of running across fields with Caleb, fishing for tadpoles in the pond and swinging from branch to branch. 

The thought of your childhood love is fresh in your mind, and you cannot shake him off no matter how exhausted you are from the events of the day. Another buzz fills the air—word floats around that the Queen has extended an invitation to the battalion who has already returned from a skirmish in Greece, combining the celebration of the crowning diamond and an appreciation for the soldiers into one, bubbling evening. 

Your heart flutters, and you hold your tongue, not daring to ask Helen the names of the soldiers—if she would recognise the only one your soul longs for. 

The evening swings into a demure party of showboating and backstabbing. Mamas would beadily eye every girl in the room, making sure that they were observing the proper protocol in conversing with potential suitors. Tonight is as important as the debut—it is when the eligible bachelors of the ton would peruse the marriage market for someone noteworthy to call the mistress of his household. 

From rich merchant sons to disgraced earls, men of all ranks were there. 

And then, as the night wore on, the soldiers appeared. Instantly, their eyes raked over the girls in their finery, and you have to admit, they scrubbed up well for men of the coat. You stay near the walls, shy and uncertain, as you sip on your lemonade. Helen stands vigilant by your side, like a shopkeeper ready to prattle on about her goods, as the men circle around, deciding on their next prey of the night when suddenly—

He catches your eye.

The tallest of his cohort, the shadow of his passing leaves many talking, Mamas and Papas alike, taken by his broad build and the numerous, gleaming medals on his military jacket. The service cap he wears is spotless, and he’s clean-shaven—a sturdy presence amongst the many men who puff out their chest and straighten up, intimidated by his arrival. 

But, you don’t notice them, or anyone else in the room for that matter. 

Because the second you lock eyes with him from across the dance floor, you see in those purple hues an endless, bright summer day, and dove wings; his arms holding you to his chest, the scent of apple blossoms in the air and his fingers in your hair. 

Caleb. 

Caleb. 

It is Caleb.

Helen gasps. “No. It cannot be.”

Like a fever dream in slow motion, he strides towards you, ignoring the rest of the debutantes fawning and waiting in line for him to bless them with a morsel of his attention. You are his prey, trapped in his sight. The moment he is within reach, Helen steps in front of you, eliciting a few gasps from some nosy Mamas keeping an eye on the drama unfolding in this corner of the ballroom. 

“You cannot be here.”

Caleb is not taken aback by her coldness. In fact, the young man expects it. His gaze darts to you beyond her shoulder, and a silent understanding passes you two. Even after years apart, his soul is as familiar to you as your own. Why would you bother with anyone else in this room when the one man whose entire existence defined yours from the moment you two could run together is right in front of you? 

“Pipsqueak…” 

His whisper is soft, but you hear it all the same. 

Your knees tremble, locking. The room starts to spin and you have to hold onto the edge of the table to keep your legs from bucking. Someone gasps, and before you can fall to the ground, a sturdy pair of arms wraps around you, righting you again.

“Easy, little tail,” he whispers and the presence of him overwhelms you. Nearly consumes you. 

Helen tries to come between the two of you, but his grip on your arms is iron-clad. 

“Let me tend to her.” 

Even his voice has changed. 

No longer nasally and bright, it’s lowered by an octave, slightly rough from holding back his tumultuous emotions. Helen opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but she soon comes to understand that a royal event is no place for a family spat. 

Even through his leather gloves, Caleb’s hands are warm, and you have to resist the urge to throw your arms around him. Despite your history with one another, the ton had almost forgotten about his existence after Josephine’s death. To ignore decorum and embrace him would be to court more scandal—your paltry dowry and reputation can only handle so much. 

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and tightens his grip on your hand. “May I have your first dance?” 

You glance at Helen, who remains tight-lipped. Conflict swirls in your chest, a heavy contrast to the silk skirts rustling on the dance floor, the punchy bright cello music and sparkling lemonade flowing from a fountain behind you. There’s an unsettling darkness that lingers around your tense forms, and you almost want to blame him for leaving you… but you can’t. 

Because you know, deep in your heart, that Caleb would never have left if he could’ve helped it. 

He would never leave you behind unless he was forced to. 

So, you nod, and you tighten your grip on his hand. He guides you to the dance floor, chaste and true as he bows before you and you curtsy before him. Other patrons on the floor cast curious gazes at you two—the admired Admiral and a quiet, middle class lass with no remark to her name. 

As Caleb takes your hands in his, he brings your palm close, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your wrist.

“Let me take a look at you.” 

He glances at you from under the brim of his military cap. Like you two are sharing an intimate joke, you lean in closer, also studying the slope of his features under the dancing candlelight. Gone was the young boy with soft cheekbones and a dimpled smile, and in his place is a taller, broader, chiselled version of the Caleb you knew and loved.

His shoulders, defined by his gruelling career, shift underneath your touch, and you don’t care for any whispers, needing to feel him close once more. Caleb gasps when your smaller body curls closer, your chin hooked over his shoulder and your arms winding around his neck. He stops dancing and embraces you in return, running his hand down the back of your head. 

Softly. Tentatively. 

You bury your cheek against his neck and rub at it like a homeless kitten feeling warmth again. 

He almost laughs. Almost. And gathers you closer, like the prodigal father welcoming back his lost child. 

Except the roles were reversed and you were anything but forgiving.

When he releases you, your fist rams into his sternum and he grunts quietly, brows arched and mouth twisted into a grimace. “Ow. What was that for?” 

You seethe and raise your fist, about to land another blow right in the middle of this dance floor when he catches your hand and leads you away from the whispers and judgemental stares. Caleb barely cares for etiquette when he yanks at your wrist, leading you into the shadows of a shrubbery barely illuminated by fairy lights. The soft glow does not compliment the darkened look in his eye, and a brief shiver of fear runs down your spine. He frowns, sensing your fear, and releases his grip on your wrist. You rub the contused flesh, and shoot him a glare.

“If you think you can just come back in here like this and expect me to forgive you—”

“I do not.”

His words are soft, yet fortified with steely determination. 

“I only came to… see you,” he admits in a soft tone. “And see how much you’ve grown. If my being here upsets you too much, then you will only have to put up with my battalion lingering in the ton for a week at most.”

His resolute reassurances come off as a veiled threat, and you can hardly believe he is already planning to make a move when he has just returned home. As if reading your mind, Caleb chuckles tiredly and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I do not have a home here, Pipsqueak. You know that. I know that. Heck, Gran made sure I kept that in my thick noggin’ before she sent me off to the military.”

Despite how angry you are and how much you want him to feel a sliver of pain for the emotional turbulence he has put you through, you shut your mouth and fix him with a mutinous mix of a glare and something else… something entirely anguished and untouched.

“Why did you leave?” 

He stalls for a moment. Knowing it would be unfair to keep this from you, he sighs and removes his military cap, tucking it under his right arm. “I had to leave because… because I was not good enough for this family.”

The words draw a well of bitterness surging in his chest, and you can taste the ashes of such an admittance clogging your throat. A prickling hot sense of dismay stings your eyes, and you have to look away from him to regain your composure. “And you did not even think of saying ‘goodbye’?”

His next words leave you rooted to the spot, the decade-old ache in your chest reopening again into a wide enough gash that threatens to swallow you whole.

“I was not allowed to say goodbye to you.”

For the first time this evening, you feel as if someone has lifted the foggy veil off your eyes. Sensation floods back in waves of retribution—the tinkling of the water fountain beats like a war drum in your ears, the nectar of ripe tulip flowers lingers in the air like a ripe promise. You can taste the first stirrings of a storm in the air, lightning flashing in the distance; the scent of the earth reminding you of ground coffee powder left to bake for too long in the sun. 

Caleb takes your hand, and it feels wrong to hold him with his gloves on. Under the weak moonlight, you grab the edge of his leather cuff and unbuckle it, slipping it off his large palm. The second his bare skin comes in contact with yours, you have to fight off a tremendous shiver threatening to unravel you. 

The warmth of him, the rasp of the callouses, a strong pulse thudding past the papery thinness of his veins. You fall right into his embrace like a bee sticking right into a honey trap, holding him tightly with all the pent-up force of your desires and yearning. 

“Pipsqueak…” 

Somehow, he has you backed against the garden wall, and his lips find yours blindly, like a deep ground creature unearthed for the first time, reaching out towards the bright sun. Caleb’s lips are soft and dry on yours, slightly chapped, and yet, you return his kiss with a stuttering desperation that claws through your very soul. Peaches and berries. The colour of his lips and cheeks. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you unabashedly drag him closer, needing to taste him—to feel him be one with you again. You’re clutching onto him like a vice, fingers sinking right into the thick material of his jacket, holding him close to you for fear of someone tearing him away. You would cease to find meaning in anything if he were to be taken from you again.

Not Helen, nor the memory of your dead grandmother could relinquish the age-old affection you have for him—this boy, once lost, now a man returned to the safe harbour of your arms. Stalwart and sure, you guard his love the way his hands guard your head from accidentally catching on a stray bramble, taking the nicks and gashes on his bare hands in your stead. The taste of him is thick and rich on your tongue, reminding you of summer popsicles and the flavour of your own skin.

Breaths catch. A fragile familiarity descends, and even though this is the first time you’re locked in such an ecstasy with him, it feels like something you’ve done in many previous lives. In a dance as natural as breathing, your legs part to accommodate the wide girth of his body slotted in between yours. He returns your eagerness with a grunt, pressing closer till your bodies are flush with one another.

Caleb does not allow you a moment to breathe.

He is like the tide, pushing and overwhelming you. 

Dragging you into deeper waters, tossing you back to the safety of the shore when his kisses and desperate nips become too much. He moans into the heat of your breathless kisses when he explores your mouth with his tongue, tasting and savouring you. 

Those long, beautiful lashes of his brush your cheekbones, and you tilt your head up, lips parted, ready to receive more of him. This gesture of supplication takes his breath away. 

He has to take a step back.

Push and pull.

Never the one to give in first.

You resist the urge to whine, spreading your palms over the lush shrubbery to keep from falling over in your neediness for him. Caleb inhales deeply, as if your very presence shakes him to the core. Under the silver stream of moonlight, his lips are swollen and bitten, a result of your hasty actions.

“We should—”

“We can.” 

You cut him off, and for the first time in your life, you’ve taken him by surprise. Caleb always had an uncanny ability to discern where you are, if you were sneaking up behind him. This time, however, he’s wide-eyed, and a slight flush decorates the tips of his ears.

“You—... you do not know what you are saying—”

In turn, you take the initiative to reach out for him, grasping his hand in yours. Intertwining your fingers, you never noticed how perfectly the lines of your palms melt together—crossroads that would always lead the two of you home to one another.

You tug him closer, and he cannot refuse you. Despite there being a full party happening just next door, you do not bother with the intricacies of such a notion, hellbent on feeding the greed bubbling deep inside of you, festering over and over with a decades-old scab that refuses to fade. 

Your desire for him would never be sutured. It could only be hidden, buried. But, once unearthed—terrifying. A majestic force of yearning to be reckoned with.  

Lips search for his own, parched for his affection, and you drink him down like fine wine, getting drunk on his taste. 

Caleb is getting higher off your affection. Never one to let himself be swept away by the tide of a person’s persistence, he crumbles under your touch like a half-built sandcastle in a storm. Pulling you tight in his grasp, he lifts you up effortlessly, pressing you against the cool, stone walls. He pushes your dress out of the way, fighting with the multiple layers keeping you protected from his touch. 

You moan when his hand reaches under to grasp your petticoat and tug it out of the way, tearing a few buttons and ribbons in the process. His touch is warm right where you need him the most, and you shiver, despite the balmy spring evening.

“Caleb—” 

“Ssh,” he whispers, feeling your whimper brush his neck from when he caresses your slick flesh. “Do not be too loud—they might catch us.”

Your smaller fingers sink into the thick material of his military jacket, and you let him dig into the parts of you no one ever has. The stretch of his digit, the sensation of his lips right at the base of your throat incites something desperate and hot inside of you, just begging to be released.

The scent of magnolias and apple blossoms fill the air, and you shudder when the crook of his knuckle caresses a sensitive spot inside of you. 

“Do you feel this?” He murmurs, taking your free hand and pressing it to the front of his pants. “It is your doing—you drive me insane. I can never bear to be parted from you ever again.”

His words do you in—make you remember the years of loneliness that passed without him by your side. Caleb takes one look at your glossy eyes, and he slows down the workings of his fingers inside of you, softened by your show of vulnerability.

As if he can read your mind, he reassures you in a low, husky tone. “I will never be parted from you again. You and I are one, my beloved—cut of the same cloth, bred from the same soil. We shall never be apart.”

He takes you in this garden, ruining the last vestiges of your innocence. The hot press of his hands and lips claim you as his own, making sure he would never be torn from you ever again. 

In the heat of the moment, you do not stop him from sinking deep into your tight heat, or lay waste to the last of your resistance as a warmth you have never felt in your life fills you up. 

When he finishes, he holds you tightly to him, your cheek to his chest. Caleb does not let you go, not even when Helen rounds the corner and finds you in his arms, sated and ruined. She calls him a litany of names, yanking you to your feet, ignoring your cries and the tears building in your eyes. 

“I want to be with him!”

“You do not know what you want!” She rebukes, and glares at Caleb who also holds onto your wrist.

“Helen, she is mine,” he grunts shamelessly. “I have claimed her and I can provide for her. Why are you so stubborn to let us be together—?”

“Because… because it is an abomination!” She shrieks, pale-faced and wide-eyed. “The two of you were raised together—” she chokes off, and glares at you, as if this was all your doing.

“Josephine would be rolling in her grave to see what you have done, young lady.”

Fear grips your heart, and you glance at Caleb, momentarily swayed by her harsh accusation. But, your new lover does not stand for such words to be thrown right into your face, and he steps in front of you, almost as if to shield you from her withering glare.

“What Josephine does or does  not do is none of our concern. The old woman—bless her soul—is gone. Old misfortunes and prejudices should be kept where they belong,” his violet eyes flash, “Buried under the ground where no one can find them.”

Helen gasps at his audacity, and Caleb reaches back to take your hand. “If you are done insulting my fiancée,” he lets the title linger heavily in the air, purposely rubbing it in her face, “We shall be leaving now. To my quarters.”

Your caretaker is struck mute by his fierce disposition, and she can only stand there, clutching her gold necklace, as you two walk away, hand-in-hand. The ton-folk who recognise Caleb as the boy from your youth look shocked and scandalised, whispering behind their hands at the sight of the two of you walking together. You shrink to his side, and Caleb wraps a firm arm around your waist, silently proclaiming you as his. Unwilling to let you out of his sight and side for long.

He has already taken your innocence and your first dance, so what is there left to do but take you home?

His men bow to him as he breezes past, your hand firmly clasped in his grip. Inside his simple carriage, so different from the elaborate ones earls and dukes have to their names, you almost squeak when he places a soft hand on your knee.

“I never did ask—but… will you marry me?” 

Although it’s bizarre—downright strange, these turning of events in one night somehow seem right—and tragically on brand for Caleb and you.

Without another second of hesitation, you nod, and take his hand.

“Wherever it is you are in this life, it is where I want to be, too, Caleb.” 

Your watery smile is breathtaking, and he can only be like a fool, staring at you in awe.

“I do.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[forcaleb]

hello :) i am back and will be posting a caleb fic soon :3

[forcaleb]

Lone oracle in the tower

Day 36

[forcaleb]

What if I kissed you instead is Caleb.

omg kisses from ruka mwah mwah it's ok caleb can leave

[forcaleb]

this tumblr update is so??? idk what to think about it

[forcaleb]

[forcaleb]

-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”

[forcaleb]

JAGGED.ೃ࿔

caleb’s jealousy was uncontrollable and never goes away as quick as it comes.

cw: fem reader, not entirely smut but still gonna tag as 18+ mdni, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, teasing, gagging, kissing, marking, mullet caleb, biting, threats, violence, pet names, stripping, yandere, established relationship, stalking, manipulation, you both have a few screws loose... not proofread rip wc: 2.1k

whenever you returned home to caleb, he was always there with a warm smile and an even warmer embrace.

no matter how long you’d been gone—an hour, a day, a week—he greeted you like you’d been away for years.

the familiarity was gone today, it just felt cold and unwelcoming; something that has never happened before.

something was wrong. unsettlingly so.

"caleb?" you called out for him, only to receive no answer. he had to be here; he never left without telling you when he'd be back.

your heartbeat quickened as you stepped further inside, locking the door behind you out of habit. the air felt off—not in the way of an intruder, but in the absence of something vital. of him.

you called again, voice softer this time, hesitant. still, nothing.

the only light was from the pretty moonlight seeping in through the window, leaving your vision a bit distorted. you managed to find your way to the bedroom, making sure to be quiet in case he was sleeping or was listening to music.

the tension was thick as you seen a familiar silhouette sitting at the edge of the bed; your heartbeat didn't slow down or feel the usual comfort it did when you seen him.

"caleb, i was calling for you... are you okay?" you eyed him cautiously, shadows casting against his features. he didn't answer you, but the quiet hum he let out made it known he was listening.

"is everything okay..?" you tried once more to get him to talk.

"y'know, dear, it's so hard to stay mad at you. especially when you call my name so sweetly... like i couldn't ruin you any chance i get."

you gulped and took a cautious step back.

"what... what are you talking about?" you forced out, your voice smaller than you wanted it to be.

caleb tilted his head, finally moving—finally looking at you. his eyes, usually so full of warmth, were unreadable in the darkness.

"you’ve been careless," he murmured, tapping his fingers against his thigh like he was trying to keep himself in check. "running around, not paying attention, letting your guard down... do you know how easy it would be for something to happen to you?"

he didn't give you the chance to answer him. "i followed you. i followed you that entire time you were gone."

he turned towards you, allowing you to finally see his facial expression. a simple, blank smile with dark eyes.

"you didn't notice... you didn't notice me following you or the looks you got from other men." he let out a humorless laugh.

“you never even looked around,” he continued, his voice low and unsettling. “too busy, too trusting... always so trusting of them.” he tilted his head again, and the way he said them made your skin crawl.

you took another step back, your eyes darting to the door, to the window, anywhere but his face. you wanted to run.

"it was just an errand run...i don't think anyone was-"

“do you really think they weren’t looking at you?” he asked, his smile never fading. “that they weren’t admiring you? wanting you?” his laugh echoed again, sharp and bitter. "it was pitiful to watch those meaningless people look at you that way."

now, he stood up, extending to his full height. "caleb, you're being delusional." it wasn't the first time he's been jealous, just never to this extent.

"delusional?" he echoed, his voice dangerously soft, and the way he said it made your skin crawl. his smile stretched just a little wider, like a predator savoring the moment before pouncing.

"you think i’m delusional?" he repeated, stepping toward you again, his eyes never leaving yours. “you think they—those strangers—are any better for you than i am?”

you instinctively took another step back, your heart racing in your chest, the fear seeping deeper into your bones. you needed to get away.

"they don’t see you like I do," caleb continued, his voice low, the edge in it sharper now. "they don’t know you like I do. they don’t care about you the way I do." his eyes darkened. "you belong to me."

you flinched at his words, your hands trembling as you tried to push the panic down

"caleb," you whispered, your voice shaking now. "you’re not thinking clearly. please, just—!"

but he was already taking another step toward you, his eyes wild now, the control slipping away as his anger simmered to the surface.

you tried, truly, to bolt to the door as quick as possible.

caleb’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist with terrifying speed, pulling you back with an iron grip that made your breath catch in your throat.

"where do you think you're going?" his voice was low, dangerously calm. it was the kind of calm that made your skin prickle, a warning that sent every instinct inside you screaming.

you tried to twist free, but his hold only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. your pulse raced in panic, your mind screaming for escape.

"y-you need space to clear your head, i... i can sleep on the couch." your words seemed to only anger him more.

caleb's grip on your wrist tightened and his eyes darkened, lips curling into a twisted sneer. "you think you can just leave like that?" he spat, his voice low and full of venom. "you think i’ll just let you sleep somewhere that's not beside me?"

you could feel the air between you both growing thicker, charged with a dangerous energy that made the room feel suffocating. your mind raced, grasping for anything—anything—that might calm him down, that might give you a chance to slip away.

his hand that was holding onto your wrist traveled up your body, rubbing into your skin gently. when he got to your collarbone, he increased the pressure, surely trying to leave a mark.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your face, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you—but instead, he bit your lip.

the unexpected pain caused you to whimper and flinch away from him.

his hand slid further up your neck, and the pressure on your collarbone only intensified. it was suffocating, the way his touch had gone from gentle to possessive, to painful. you tried to move away, but his grip was unrelenting.

“i’ve been patient,” caleb continued, his voice low and rough, a mix of frustration and something darker. “but you’re making this so hard. you’re making me prove to you how much you need me. how much i need you.”

he paused for a second, and that's when you felt something cold wrap around your neck: the silver necklace you gifted him in childhood.

the action caused your heart to speed up. “you look gorgeous marked by me,” he whispered gently as he placed his forehead against yours.

with a cautious approach, you wrapped your arms around him and tried to calm your breathing, hoping he was finally calming down.

well, your actions seemed to only make things worse.

“y-you’re still so sweet, so soft, even after i treat you like this?” there was a vulnerability in his eyes that immediately hardened.

his body tensed against yours, his nails digging into your back ever so slightly. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured, almost to himself. his voice wavered, filled with something unsteady, something desperate. “too good.”

his forehead was still pressed to yours, but his eyes had darkened again, flickering with a storm of emotions. “you should hate me right now,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "you should be afraid of me."

he pulled back just enough to search your face, his gaze burning into yours, as if trying to understand why you weren’t running. why you weren’t screaming.

his hands slid down your arms, then back up, his touch almost reverent. "but you're still here," he murmured, his head tilting slightly. “even after all this. why?”

you swallowed thickly, trying to steady your voice. "because i love you, caleb."

the thin string keeping him together snapped.

he quickly lifted you, your legs wrapping around his torso. he threw you onto the bed, crawling on top of you. "i love you too, so much." he used the chain around your neck to lift your head to the same level as his.

your breath hitched as the cool metal of the necklace pressed into your skin, restricting your movement just enough to make your pulse race with something between fear and disbelief. caleb’s face was dangerously close, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a feverish intensity.

“you have no idea,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion, “just how much i need you.”

his grip on the chain tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you were completely at his mercy. his free hand trailed along your jaw, his touch achingly gentle compared to the rough way he handled you moments before.

his lips found yours in an intense kiss, the hand wrapped around the necklace moved to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, his other hand moving to the buttons on your blouse.

he paused for a second, looking into your eyes, "are you okay?"

you nodded and pulled him back into a kiss, your own hand tugging at his shirt that barely concealed his toned body. he sent you a small smile as he took off the article of clothing.

your blouse slipped from your shoulders, and he took his time, pressing his lips to every inch of newly exposed skin as if committing each spot to memory. "so perfect," he murmured against you, his breath warm, his voice filled with something raw. "all mine."

when you let out a particular whine when he reached your sensitive spot, he moaned and bit down harder. he glanced up at your face, noticing you were biting your lip, tearing at the fragile skin.

his brow furrowed as he brought two fingers up to your mouth, gently shoving them down your throat. "only i can bite your pretty lips, okay?"

you whined around his fingers as he continued marking up your chest and neck.

his fingers pressed down just enough to make you gasp, your teeth and tongue brushing against his skin as he watched you with dark, lidded eyes. "that's it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "bite me, sweetheart."

your body trembled beneath him as he continued his slow, deliberate assault on your skin, his lips trailing lower, teeth grazing sensitive spots just to feel the way you reacted. every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening with every little whimper and whine that left your lips.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chin, smearing the spit along your jaw before cupping your cheek. "you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, soothing over where you'd bitten too hard. "mine to love, mine to take care of."

you tugged on his hair, the grown-out mullet soft in your hands, making him let out a whine of your name.

his reaction sent a shiver down your spine, the sound so raw and desperate that it made your grip tighten instinctively. caleb's breathing grew heavier, his lips parting as he looked down at you with a mixture of adoration and hunger.

"you know what you do to me, don't you?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. his hands slid down your sides, fingers squeezing at your hips before settling there, holding you in place. "you drive me insane."

you smirked slightly, tugging at his hair once more just to hear that sweet sound again. "good," you teased, voice breathy, "it's only fair."

"'s not nice to tease, pipsqueak."

"what are you gonna do about it?" you taunted, fingers still tangled in his hair, giving another playful tug.

his grip on your hips tightened, and in a swift movement, he flipped you beneath him, pinning you against the mattress. his hands caged you in, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch.

"oh, sweetheart," he purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "you really wanna test me tonight, huh?"

your heart pounded in anticipation, but you held your ground, looking up at him with a teasing smile. "maybe."

caleb chuckled, low and husky, his breath fanning against your skin. "guess i’ll just have to remind you who’s in charge then, won’t i?"

before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing every word, every breath, until all you could think about was him.

bonus:

as you lay in his arms, you couldn't help the nagging thought at the back of your mind. "hey, caleb?"

he hummed in response, pulling you closer to his chest. "you... you really followed me the entire day?"

"yeah, it's a cute little pastime. get to see you window shop and stuff," he said with no shame whatsoever. "what kinda boyfriend would i be if i let you out alone?"

"a normal one."

he let out a small laugh, "go to sleep, [name]. we can't have you ruining your sleep schedule. need me to tell you a story?"

[forcaleb]

Her gun got you covered!

[forcaleb]

dude ur interrupting on the floor time with ur beautiful face STOP

[forcaleb]

bored prince

[forcaleb]

CHAT HES HOME

[forcaleb]

caleb

[forcaleb]

the great yogurt heist

warnings — fluff, short, reader loves yogurt

notes — lowkey idk what this is it just happened because i was craving for yogurt... | tags: @aomiiine @sydneybee @tojicide @umamaki

“caleb, did you steal my yogurt again?” you exclaim as you open the fridge to find yet another empty yogurt drawer. the vanilla yogurt you stocked up on for your break has “mysteriously” disappeared once again. “i told you those are for me!”

“what?” caleb appears from the living room, his mouth covered in yogurt. “i swear, pips, i didn’t eat them!”

you place your hands on your hips, a frown on your face. “oh yeah? then what’s all this?” you point at the corner of his lips, the evidence still there.

caleb touches the corner of his mouth and, seeing the yogurt on his finger, smiles sheepishly. “ah… about that…”

“caleb!” you whine. “now i have to go back to the store and get some more!”

“hey- i’m sorry! you have good taste in yogurt, pips,” caleb says, trying to calm you down. “okay, look. how about i drive you to the store today? we can stock up on some yogurt and other stuff too!”

as soon as caleb finishes speaking, your eyes light up. “really?! okay, stay there! i’m going to get my purse-”

caleb grabs your wrist before you can run upstairs. “don’t worry, i’ve got it right here.” he magically pulls your purse out from behind his back, a smug grin on his face. “i knew you’d get angry at me, so i made some preparations.”

“you know me so well, do you?” you tease, giving caleb’s nose a playful boop. “then lead the way, my shining knight in armor.”

“my car is just out- ouch! okay, okay!” you slap caleb’s forearm before he ruins the moment. “right this way, my princess.”

when you arrive at the supermarket, you sprint to the yogurt section and grab two packs. “caleb! come help me grab two more!”

caleb, still walking toward you, laughs. “really? four packs in total? are you sure you can finish them?”

“of course! art you doubting me?” you huff. “you're the one who keeps eating my yogurt without letting me finish even one pack!”

“okay, i’ll let you get all four. but,” caleb drags out the word, “if you can’t finish them before they expire, i’m taking them with me on my missions. deal?”

“okay! deal!” you hold out your pinky, and caleb links it with his. “trust me, i’ll finish them while we do our movie marathon.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” caleb nods.

(you, in fact, do not finish them in time. just three days before the expiration date, caleb takes three packs of yogurt with him to skyhaven.)

[forcaleb]

caleb fic coming soon >< stay tuned :)