#caleb I love you

[umamaki]

cw: lowk red flag caleb lol, virginity loss

Caleb is pissed when you get asked out for the first time. He had deliberately warned everyone in both of your social circles to stay away from you. Not without threats of violence or death, either. So yeah, he’s pissed as fuck when you tell him. Did he have to burn the whole world down merely to keep you all to himself? To protect you from perverts and creeps?

But, unfortunate and naive, you were so damn excited for this date. He couldn’t spoil your mood. Not when you asked him which dress to wear—both of them too short for his liking—and certainly not when you asked him to zip up the back for you.

There was just something about how you looked, all dolled up and cute to see someone who wasn’t him. He can already barely control himself around you; even the thought of another man having access to you like this makes him utterly sick. “It’s just not a good idea. All guys want the same thing.”

“You’re a guy aren’t you, Caleb? So what, are you telling me you’re like that too? Hmm?” He wants to wipe the playful smile off your face. You just think everything’s some fucking game.

“He’s gonna want to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Huh, pipsqueak?”

He thinks he went too far then, notes the way your eyes widen and lips slightly part. You shake your head, but he already knows. He knows everything about you. So when you ask if he can help you, give you some advice, he knows exactly how he will.

“So naive, let me just show you.” He smashes his lips against yours. The force would’ve sent you falling backwards had he not steadied you with his hand on the small of your back.

“This is how to kiss…” he mutters it into your mouth, not caring that your teeth are hitting each other.

“And this…” he lifts your skirt just enough so that he can pull your panties to the side and slide his fingers along your puffy folds. “This is how it feels to be fingered.”

“Ah—Caleb!” You squeal when he fully plunges his finger in deeper than your own fingers ever could. He adds another, and soon the room is filled with your moans and the lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy.

His lips are back on yours, and this time his tongue is shoved inside your mouth, claiming it. He goes faster when he feels your walls clench around him, and lets you grip his biceps while you come around his fingers and leave behind crescent shaped indents on his arms.

He nearly throws you on the bed, eager to yank off your underwear and free himself from his own boxers, wasting no time in aligning his tip to your still sensitive cunt.

“This is how to take it like a good fucking girl.” You try your best to relax, to be so good for him as he buries himself into you. He lets you get used to his size, going slow. Not moving until you practically beg him to, then there’s no going back. He’s brutally snapping his hips against yours and watching your tits bounce through your dress.

“Already gonna come on my cock? You really are inexperienced. Can’t even control yourself. Go on then. Fucking. Come.” With two last jerks of his hips, your climax washes over you and he tries so fucking hard to delay his own orgasm. He begins to pull out but your legs lock him in place. He cums on the spot—still inside you.

“Don’t care that I ruined your dress? How you gonna go on your date now, baby?”

“Hm. Guess I have to cancel,” you say, faux disappointment coating your words.

He pauses. “There was no date.”

“There was no date.” You confirm, wearing that same stupid grin from before. Luckily your schedule is free, because he has a hell of a punishment waiting for you after that.

[bibbysstuff]

his favorite show is on

[neigepomme]

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh, how lucky you were to have each other.

“just thinking about how much i love you.”

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

[calebrity]

separation anxiety

⤷ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that you’re in his path.

cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason

an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 he’s got that DAWG in him 💪 also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibes…. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, & 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! (๑´ `๑)♡

Caleb would say he hates you for the time you’re gone, but it’d be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where you’re present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.

There’s a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.

His devotion for you doesn’t necessarily drown him- no, you’re always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.

He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, he’s aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether it’s an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldn’t foster him for long.

Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal space— and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldn’t sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.

You admit, it’s a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartment— but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and you’d always lend a hand where you could.

The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as he’s pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.

You won’t let him down or leave him at the curb. He’s yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because he’s proud of it.

He’s a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that you’re thankful.

Except, this week he’s… different.

As of a few days ago, it’s like he’s been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because he’s just been diving deeper as the week progresses.

You don’t know what to do. He’s oddly aggressive. It’s not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but he’s foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.

Because Caleb doesn’t bite— he just doesn’t.

He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until he’s dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and he’s made you late for it.

Maybe it’s just because you’re ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. He’s never liked when you’re gone, sure, but he’s always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.

Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. It’s hurtful.

You’ve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that it’s ‘just coworkers’, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.

He’s touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. It’s concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.

By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, you’re tuckered out by it and don’t question where he is when you return home early from a shift and he’s, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.

A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.

He never takes that off. No- says it’s his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, and— have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe you’re a little hormonal but it’s no cause to get short with him, even when he’s acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his owner—

A gasp.

You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.

You drop your purse. “Caleb!” You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.

“Bad dog!”

✦

You sleep on it.

Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.

Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to tell you he’s been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his you’ve experienced- and doesn’t know how to control himself.

You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.

A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.

For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.

Now, it’s in the forefront of your brain.

Well, if he’s been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense he’d be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.

It’s closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one you’d all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, you’re sure. You’ve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesome— But not Caleb.

He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.

With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.

“Ah- Caleb-“

Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. “M’ sorry. You don’t hate me for it, do you?” He sighs into your collar and you shiver, “I wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldn’t have done it if it was somethin’ I could control, I hope you realize that.”

You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble back. “It’s okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didn’t understand what was going on…”

A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.

“It’s my fault, though, not yours. I didn’t know how to tell you- I was worried you’d just end up scared’a me, or…”

His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. “Or what?” You press softly.

You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.

“Or that you’d leave,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.

“Nonsense,” you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. “I’d never leave you.”

Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.

Caleb’s voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. “Yeah?” He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isn’t lost on you- and musters a pout.

It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.

“Even when I am no better than a bad dog?”

Your brow quirks, “I didn’t mean it,” you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.

“It’s okay if you did,” he murmurs back. “I’m just glad I have you around to remind me of my place…” Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.

“Otherwise, I’d always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?” His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You can’t find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.

You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, “C-Caleb-“

“Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, “M’ not gonna hurt you. I just….” He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.

“You drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I don’t know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I haven’t had a rut in a couple years. But this…”

Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.

When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- they’re all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.

“This is just too unfair. You won’t leave me hangin’, pretty,… w-will you?” Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You can’t miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.

And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?

✦

He doesn’t fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.

He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesn’t hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like you’ve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.

“Ah- y-you feel so good, so tight,” he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.

His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Caleb’s face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is he’s seeing to look away.

A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like it’s trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. You’re the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.

“And you’re all mine, okay? Nobody else’s. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?

“C-Caleb—“

You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.

He’s made to make you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.

“Nah- I wanna hear you, baby. You can’t keep holdin’ out on me like this... I’m giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?”

A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,

“I’ve been good all along. Can’t you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,” his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you can’t help but feel it’s a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.

I mean, he’s probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew out—

“Caleb, too big—“ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.

Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He can’t see anything; he’s in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like it’s his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as he’s concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.

He’s in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.

“Shh, I know,” he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.

“I know it’s big, but you gotta be ready for-“ he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.

He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one that’ll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified you’ll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he can’t have that.

Caleb’s nothing if not loyal. He’s also nothing if not selfish. That’s always been a wriggling bug he’s tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.

He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so that’s what he’ll get.

He’ll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So all’s fine.

“Y-You can take it,” is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, you’re deaf to most of everything.

But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. It’s loud and you’re so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.

And then he’s biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then he’s burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.

“Mmh- f-fuck- Good girl!” he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesn’t, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.

You scream his name. He shivers.

It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever he’s got planned for you.

“C-Caleb, you-!”

“Yeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,” he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, “I know, baby, I know. Just- don’t shut me out, okay? I- It’ll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? It’ll feel so much better that way. Just… hold on to me.”

“I-It hurts-!”

“Ngh, shhh…” He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. “Be a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussy’s squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm… I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.”

You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.

“Wha- Caleb, is that even-?”

“I don’t know,” he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.

“But I’ve been dyin’ to try it out for myself.”

[calebsdraft]

“shh, baby, i know, i know,” caleb cooed as you rubbed your cheek against his chest, sniffing. god, you felt like you were in hell. what did you do to deserve this? you were good. probably. sorta. still, you didn’t deserve this massive headache.

you let out another little cough and you felt tears well up in your eyes. this is the second time you were sick. this time, it was worse. way worse. your throat hurt, your legs cramped, you had the worst headache, not to mention your nose is runny. you had already bawled into his chest at your sickness. you couldn’t do it again.

but oh, no, caleb already knew that you were about to cry. “oh, no, don’t cry. doll, don’t cry.” his words soothed you until another wave of your killer headache kicked. “caleb… i’m dying. i’m in hell,” you whined, words muffed by the soft fabric of his shirt.

you felt the deep rumble of his chest whenever he chuckled and his large hand came up to caress your hair. you couldn’t go to work—not yesterday, not today, and not tomorrow, either. you let out a groan thinking about it. good thing caleb was there. “want me to make your favorite food? i’ll add a bit of candy, yeah? also some medicine.”

you looked up at him once his words went through your head and you felt your eyes getting teary again. “you’re the best boyfriend ever, what the fuck?” you sniffed and dug your face into his chest again. he couldn’t help but to let out a bark of laughter, that same old smile on his face.

“alright, pips. you wanna go help me make the food?”

“yeah!”

[mihanisms]

buried to the hilt

— caleb finds he cums embarrassingly quickly when he sees how he looks in you.

— (slight) size kink, inexperienced caleb & reader, pathetic dirty talk, pathetic pervert caleb!!!!!!!! pathetic pervert reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kiiinda fluffy at the end? a bit angsty-feely too?? as fluffy-feely as my freaktivities can be???

The first time Caleb sees your tummy bulge full of him, he stills. The nights he'd spent jerking off to the thought of you (with your panties pressed against his nose) pale in comparison to the real thing — his cock, lodged into your pussy, the outline of his tip just barely peeking through your skin. He can't take his eyes off it, transfixed by both the feel and look of you around him.

He stares for so long that you begin to feel impatient, whining softly and grinding your hips down. "Caleb..." Yet even that small movement from you has the bulge in your stomach shifting slightly, a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. Though lost in the heat of the moment, the neediness in your tone does not escape him and he shakes himself out of his trance, his hand trailing up from your thigh to press on your stomach. "...Yeah, pips?"

When you glance down, you finally realize just why he was in such a daze. the tip of his cock barely visible beneath your skin drawing a surprised whimper from you. Your eyes flick between your best friend and the impression of him in you, the sigh utterly intoxicating. "Ca-Caleb...he's peeking out at me..."

That's all it takes for Caleb's honeyed tone to go darker, a raspy growl now evident in his tone. "Mhm. That's...me right there, pips." He thrusts shallowly at first, eyes flicking down, watching with fascination as his cock shifts beneath your skin, a  whimper catching in his throat at the sight. “Fuck, baby look that’s me- fuck- baby, I ah-!"

He loses himself in the warmth as his body presses against yours. Slowly, he begins to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. And he tries — he really tries to hold on.

But the sight of his cock pushing up against the soft skin of your belly has Caleb's mind unraveling like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Every slow thrust, every squeeze of your walls around him, makes the bulge in you shift. It's a visible, undeniable reminder that he’s buried so deep inside you there’s nowhere else for him to go.

His breath is ragged, each roll of his hips getting sloppier as the heat in his body quickly overwhelms him. His forehead stays pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and completely lost in you.

“Baby, I- You feel so fucking good.” His voice cracks into moans, wrecked and desperate, his fingers twitching against your waist as he fights to hold on.

Fuck, he's close. Too close. He's supposed to be in control. Supposed to pace himself. But the way your warmth engulfs him, how your tight little hole pulses and pulls him deeper, shatters any semblance of restraint.

You feel it too. The way he trembles above you, his body taut like a fraying wire. Every shaky exhale, every hitched breath, every needy little sound that slips past his lips, they all tell you how he’s on the edge. The knowledge that he's losing himself, falling apart because of you, sends heat flooding through your body.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, and his reaction is instant. A strangled, breathy “oh fuck-” chokes past him as his hips stutter against yours. You roll your hips in response, and Caleb fucking gasps for air at the sight of the bulge shifting beneath your skin, his grip on you tightening as if you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The two of you were in the same sinking boat, breaths and moans mingling as the aching need for release quickly overtakes the both of you, the harsh thrusts and helpless moans spilling from Caleb's lips tightening that coil in your stomach. "Pl-Please Caleb-"

The strained breathlessness in your voice has him crumbling, his rhythm getting sloppier as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice thick with something fragile. "I know, baby, I know- Fuck, just-" His words get cut off you pulsate around him, the tight heat of you making his mind short-circuit. "S-So close- just give it to me, please please please-"

His hands move on instinct, an overwhelming ache leading one to over your stomach to press down and feel himself inside you. The moment the pressure registers on his cock, his mind blanks and so does he—wave after wave of cum pulsing into you as he shakes and whines, hips desperately meeting yours as he chases his high.

The shocks of his orgasm run through him, his mind blank and overwhelmed, nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around him, milking him through his high. His lashes flutter, breath hitching as he shivers, everything is too hot, too good, too much.

The feeling of his hips stilling against yours and his cum flowing into you has your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting fast, and then you're gone. Ecstasy slams into you with a force that has you crying out, your body going rigid as you spasm around him.

You're both left trembling, wide-eyed and flushed and locked onto each other's gazes as you process what just happened. Caleb then slumps against you, your bodies spent and trembling, his voice soft as he nuzzles back into your neck. "....Fuck. 'M sorry, baby."

His cock stays nestled deep, twitching with oversensitivity, trapped in you. He’s panting into your skin, and you reach out to push away the hair that had fallen into his face. "Don't be," you murmur softly, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sudden after-intimacy of the moment.

Caleb's voice was quiet, a layer of insecurity lying below the surface. "I didn't expect- I barely lasted-"

You soothe him with a soft hush, running your fingers through his hair and cupping the base of his neck. "That doesn't matter, baby. It was still perfect. You were perfect." You press a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, noticing how he's still slightly stiff and you run your hands down his spine, tracing slow, reassuring patterns on his back.

He shivers at the contact, looking up at you like a puppy seeking reassurance. Before he could say anything else, you tighten your grip, squeezing at his skin and pulling him closer. “You made me feel incredible. It doesn’t have to be some long, drawn-out thing. You know we’re both….new to this.”

“But I….” He huffs slightly, finally relaxing into your touch and letting it ground him. “You…You mean that, pipsqueak?” 

You smile, gently nudging your nose against his head. “‘Course I do. Besides, if you liked seeing me that full ‘f you, means we’ll have to go again.” Leaning in even closer, your warm breath ghosts over his ear. “You know you’re still hard in me, right?”

Caleb groans softly, shifting on top of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. His lips graze your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you think- Do you think you can take another round?"

You adjust yourself slightly, just enough to tease him deeper into you. "I can take whatever you want to give me, you know that.”

“You horrible tease.” Despite his words, Caleb breaks out into a light snicker, fighting back the groan and the desire re-capturing his gut to have a few more moments of this sweetness. He finally pulls himself out of your neck, looking at you with that lovesick, dazed expression that’s always made your heart skip.

This was going to be a long night.

[yizhouism]

i feel like caleb would pray long and hard for your first child to be a girl—an except replica of you

jokes on him though! because not only is his first child a son, but his son also came out looking exactly like him: dark hair, purple eyes, the slant of his nose. it was like looking at mirror image of himself, except... oh... he had your smile. needless to say, caleb was smitten with his son. he still wanted a girl though!

the second time around, you and caleb were still not blessed with a daughter. and although your second son was all you in appearance, he was all caleb in personality, which of course meant that your second son was a mama's boy through and through!

he wanted to be everywhere you were at all times. your second son clung to you like a koala, crying every time caleb came near because that meant that your attention wouldn't be on him but his father. obviously, caleb wasn't having any of that and so came the long and hard months of setting boundaries with your second child

eventually (and with your eldest playing as mediator) they found some common ground! doesn't mean that they don't butt heads though, but it's all affectionate and part of their love-hate dynamic

your third child was finally the daughter caleb had prayed for. and while she wasn't a mini you, she was the perfect blend of you and caleb—a testament to your love and partnership

as the princess of the family, she was spoiled like spoiled spoiled, more spoiled than you ever were. how could she not when she had two brothers that spoiled her to death AND a father who was an absolute simp for her?

despite all that, her favourite man wasn't any of them, but instead her uncle zayne! when asked why she'd furrow her brows and say that her brothers and father smothered her too much. but late at night she'd whisper in your ear and say that uncle zayne was pretty, really pretty

needless to say the one-sided rivalry between caleb and zayne (and your sons and zayne's son) only intensified 😞

[qiyuearning]

your first time with caleb and he is so, so… how can he even describe it?

“you’re— you’re— i can’t even . . . ohmygod? just wow.” he says all in one breath, eyes struggling to focus on just one part of you. his hands hover just over your torso, tracing the air over eager skin. he doesn’t know if he can handle even a second more of this. is he dreaming right now? is he allowed to?

god, let him have this. finally, his hands find their way to your hips, slender fingers flexing against smooth curves. he could feel your body pressed against his, warm and solid. real.

he always had a snarky quip or a teasing remark to lighten the mood, but right now, all that escapes his lips is an uncharacteristically pathetic sound he doesn’t mean to let slip.

“pip— you’re gorgeous. i mean you’re always gorgeous! o-obviously. always have been,” he sputters, his breathing almost erratic as he chastises himself in an attempt to chase after what little shred of common sense and control he has left. “can i? i mean, will you let me . . . ? no— god, if i could just—“

caleb babbles perhaps a million things per minute—prayers most likely, so fast that it makes your head spin. it isn’t until he feels your touch on his chest that he calms down, your hand warm and solid. real.

“slow down.” you sigh from your place in his lap. he looks like he’s about to burst into tears— or flames. “use your words, caleb.”

he was a man on the edge, a man finally acknowledging his need. his lips found the sensitive spot on your collarbone, teeth scraping against tender flesh lightly.

he looks at you for further permission, a violet gaze that is screaming please, please, please, let me have this. hesitantly, he places an experimental kiss along your jaw. then one to your lips. then another, and another until he can’t remember a feeling that could ever be better than this. it’s desperate, rushed, and a little clumsy, a culmination of years spent holding back.

“. . . words are the last thing on my mind right now, pipsqueak.”

he feels the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your clothes, the weight of your thighs pressed against his. his fingers find the edge of your shirt, slipping underneath to ghost over your skin. his touch is both gentle and possessive, as if claiming something long overdue as his.

[randomfandomworks]

Sylus takes notice one night, as you’re resting against him, of the exact way you position yourself in his hold.

You press your body to one side of his, until you’re basically molded against him. Your heart lays above his, it’s beating harmonizing with his own until they inevitably sync together.

Your head rests slightly on his collarbone, your face lingering just above his neck leaving your nose to occasionally bump it after a deep breath. Breaths which fan across his skin and give him little goosebumps.

Though it isn’t any of this that truely catches his attention.

One of your hands lays gently on his chest.

Sprawled exactly where in a past life a final blow had taken his life.

Your fingers graze where the gash would have been, leaving soft touches instead of dripping blood.

You’re unaware of what had happened ages ago, though subconsciously you apologize. Holding him close now as you couldn’t before. Perhaps it was part of your soul coming to its peace as you laid with him now.

His hand shakes slightly as it comes to trace your own, he turns, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and begins to focus once again on your steady breaths and your heart's rhythmic beat.

Perhaps this will be enough of a resolution to relax his own soul as well, that way his part and yours can come and rest together again as you two do now.

[gomtangii]

my take on tits, ass, or thighs with caleb

caleb x fem!reader cw: minors and ageless dni, suggestive, reader has tits

thinking about how caleb was originally an ass guy. he would always follow the hem of your shorts and how they perfectly curve around your butt, catch a glimpse of your pantie-clad ass from underneath your skirt, or the peeks he got whenever you lifted your arms wearing only his shirt.

he was an ass man.

until you hugged him and he got hyper aware of the way your boobs pressed against his chest. so soft and squishy, now he couldn't help but follow you cleavage whenever you wore a low-cut or bent down. whenever you hugged him wearing nothing underneath your shirt, he breath would hitch, imagining how they would feel bare.

is he a tits man now? he doesn't know!

then one day, you were riding in the passenger seat of his car wearing a mini skirt. he reaches over, trying to get something from his glove compartment when he glances down for a quick second and sees your plush thighs smushed into some thigh highs. his face flushes and you look up at him, asking if something's wrong. he quickly says no, retracting his hand, the thing he needed is long forgotten between the fantasies of your thighs wrapped around his face that fill his mind.

but then you come out of his bathroom, wearing a small towel that barely covered your breasts, ass, and thighs, asking him for clothes. he takes a second to stare, his monkey brain only seeing your curves. he finally snaps out of it and hands you one of his shirts.

turns out he's just loves you.

rafayel's bday... will i make it in time.....

[harblkun]

Justice for our homegirl and her suffering

[bibbysstuff]

Happy Caleb Myth!!

[neigepomme]

cw // NSFW. caleb loves when you control him.

caleb's a big man — in more ways than one. however, when he's near you? just an oversized ragdoll for you to manhandle as you please.

the first time he realized that, you were pointing at something for him to see. unfortunately, his attention was on something else, and after losing your patience, you tug at his necklace for him to lean down.

poor guy almost came on the spot. the action wasn't even remotely sexual, but the fact that you felt comfortable enough to boss him around, control him? oh that did caleb in.

somehow, you also caught on. his nervous smile and red ears were telltale signs that he was impacted, and boy, it was bound to be lots of fun for you.

so you tried it out more often. just some inconspicuous stuff to gauge his reactions! no harm in discovery, right?

when he was leaving for work, you'd roughly grab his face with one hand and bring him down to your level to press a kiss on his puckered lips. 

“have a lovely day at work, baby. go get 'em colonel!”

you spoke with the sweetest tone you could muster, and caleb's flushed face and lovestruck smile was a delight to see so early in the morning. wishing you a good day as well, he heads over to the fleet — only to find out he has a hard-on. caleb deals with it in his office, before heading out to train the cadets (who realize their ever so scary colonel is capable of sporting a smile).

the next instance was when you two were out and about in a supermarket, picking out the ingredients for hot pot tonight. you stare at caleb when an older gentleman heads your way with his cart, wobbling around — and a mischievous idea quickly forms in your head. you quickly tug caleb's arm, pressing his body against yours when you flash him a smile, “oops. a cart was headed your way. ”

the pilot can't maintain eye contact, his pants suddenly feeling way tighter than usual. you were going to be the death of him if you kept going, but caleb would be lying if he said that dying to your hands wasn't the best way to go.

the time that cemented it in both of your minds, though, was when you were straddling his lap and making out with him on the living room couch. caleb was taking over your mouth, kissing you like a starved man, and you desperately needed to catch your breath — so you tugged on his hair, hard, in order to separate him from your mouth.

his hips bucked up into yours when you did that, and as the realization hit him, a vicious red blush took over his face.

“fuck pips, you can't keep doing that.”

funnily enough, his words didn't exactly match his actions. when you tugged a little harder in response, his hands grabbed onto your hips and dragged you against his, your clothed core rubbing against his growing bulge. you moan against his ear when a sound between a whimper and a groan comes out of his mouth.

“hmm, but i think you love it, don't you?”

that might be the understatement of the century, caleb thinks. he doesn't just love it, he adores it when you play rough with him — so teasing and unfair, it makes him want to push your buttons, so you keep on doing it.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing when he throws you over his shoulder and starts walking towards the bedroom.

“i do. love it when you control me.”

🍎 pomme's notes — h.. hey.... alexa put on control me by colde....

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[umamaki]

Caleb who is just so fucking big that he has trouble physically fitting into your life. He’s as buff as he is tall, and as hot as it makes him, it’s becoming an inconvenience to you both. Good luck having him over if you own anything less than a king bed. Despite the amount of times his weight alone has split the bedframe, you still haven’t upgraded your sleeping situation. Even laying on his side he’s taking up more than half your mattress. You will typically lay on top of him, but even that gets uncomfortable after a while. Especially after he’s just fucked you to oblivion, assuredly leaving your entire lower half sore for the next day or three. You’ll wake up in the morning somehow underneath him, being suffocated from his huge biceps having unknowingly wrapping themselves around your small frame. Not to mention that his shoulders alone practically measure the width of your shower. He’s just too big. You don’t even entertain the idea of shower sex at your apartment. The glass panes let you watch him struggle to bend down to just get his head under the showerhead, and you feel like some sort of voyer watching him. It’s perverted, it’s creepy. Yet it’s extremely arousing, the way he barely fits into a shower you use so comfortably. And all you can do is watch him and wait until he comes out to finally satisfy your heat.

[kyrinnina]

Would you forgive him? 🤎