Caleb was sure he’d died and gone to heaven when he had somehow managed to convince you to be his girlfriend. He was insane and absolutely shameless, but you found yourself adoring him.. even if he was a bit unhinged.
He was nothing if not eager to always touch you someway; a hand on your thigh, grabbing your boob from behind as he’d lean on your shoulder, or even just full on bear hugging you during sex. He always wanted to have his hands on you. Simple.
The poor baby even started giving his sad, wet dog look whenever you swatted his hands away, his fingers twitching at his sides as he did his best to be good for you. “Don’t be like that, pips. You know I wanna feel my girl.” He could respect your wishes for space, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hard anytime you were close by. It was like his dick had a radar now and perked up whenever your hips would sway in his view or he’d catch a glimpse of that delicious tummy hiding under your top.
It was absolute torture. He was convinced you were sent to try and test his will, to see if he could be a gentleman.
But he wasn’t.
Not when he had you folded in half on his bed, whispering soft apologies for how deep he was hitting your cervix, kissing along your knees as he thrusted balls deep into that warm cunt he called home. “Holy shitttt, you’re so perfect. Please marry me, please have my kids..” His fingers bit into your sides, rubbing his thumbs along the stretch marks devotedly.
Sure, it was dirty talk, but you both knew he was dead serious. He would do anything to feel his cum spilling inside you, to knock you up and be able to hold onto even more of you. He almost came just thinking about it.
Anytime your legs spread wider for him, your shyness giving way to his cock, he couldn’t bite back a grin. He’d lace his arms around your waist, his head dipping into your neck as he pushed his hips into yours harder. He didn’t care for the mess, not the lewd squelches with every movement of his hips. He liked it, if anything. It reminded him that you wanted this just as much as he did.
And when you’d start crying out his name? Oh, he was a goner. His vision practically whited out as he came, wishing so so badly that there wasn’t a condom between you two and he could get his pretty girl pregnant :[.
been thinking abt him recently so here is some food for the caleb girlies
you never got used to how big sylus was. his cock was too thick, too heavy, always pushing your body past its limit no matter how many times he fucked you. even after his fingers had worked you open—three of them buried deep while he murmured low against your ear, “still so tight. you think this will be enough for me to fit, sweetheart?”—it never was. nothing could prepare you for him.
and now he had you folded in half, your knees pushed so high against your chest you swore you could barely breathe. sylus loomed over you, broad and impossibly strong, red eyes locked on your stretched pussy as he pistoned into you, every hard thrust sinking him balls-deep.
“fuck—look at this,” he rasped, voice rough, hot breath fanning over your lips. his silver hair clung to his forehead, sweat dripping down his neck as his abs flexed with each thrust. “your tight little cunt’s choking me. can barely fit inside you, and you’re still begging for it.”
“nnghh—s-sylus! ‘s too—haahhh—too big...!! i can’t—” your voice cracked, tears slipping down your cheeks, your hands clawing at his shoulders.
he groaned at that, hips snapping harder, the obscene slap of skin against skin echoing in the room, wet squelches loud from the way your pussy creamed around him. “you can. fuck, you’re taking it so well—you always do. taking every inch of this cock like you were made for me.”
your vision blurred when the fat head of his cock bullied your cervix again and again, his weight pressing down until you were caged beneath him. his size only made it worse—your body so small compared to his, pinned and helpless while he fucked you open, splitting you down the middle.
“mmngghhh—oh goood, sylus!” you wailed, nails sinking into his back as his pace grew merciless, drilling into your swollen walls. he kissed you hard, tongue sliding past your lips, swallowing your cries. “that’s it, kitten. keep sobbing on my cock. let everyone hear how good i fuck you,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice dripping filth. his hips jackhammered into you, dragging your body up the bed with every brutal snap.
your pussy gushed, messy strings of slick and cream coating his cock, splattering down to the sheets. you were crying openly now, moaning between broken little gasps.
“gonna cum?” sylus gritted out, hand sliding to your throat, thumb pressing gently as he leaned down to watch your face. “yeah, i can feel it—this tight little hole’s strangling me. fuck, cum all over me, sweetie. make a mess.” your scream broke into sobs as your orgasm ripped through you, pussy spasming around him, soaking his cock in creamy wetness. the bedframe creaked under his weight, the mattress squealing as he kept pounding through your release, relentless. “sylus, ahhhnn—t-too much, too deep—”
“fuuuck,” he growled, pinning your thighs tighter, fucking into you so hard the air punched out of your lungs. “just a little more. i’m not stopping until this pretty pussy remembers my cock, until you can finally take me without crying like slut.” his pace turned brutal, animalistic, the sound of your wet, ruined pussy taking him filling the room. you were incoherent now, eyes rolling back, mouth slack with endless whimpers and moans. he kissed you again, messily, biting your lip before pulling back to watch you fall apart.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” sylus whispered, fucking you so deep you swore he was in your stomach. “keep your pretty eyes on me. still not done with this cunt.”
description ✩ it’s just caleb for gods’ sake, is what you tell yourself, he’s your boyfriend! he’s seen you naked before! it’s no big deal. so… what are you so afraid of? what’s so scary about asking him to call you puppy? 9.2K
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 store notes ⋆ not the first caleb fic ive written but the first i have posted and my first lads fic on dis blog !! this one really got away from me im scared lol. kinda selfship coded but i hope u like and stick around for more.
“caleb.”
the night is quiet, except for the gentle buzz of cicadas and rustling leaves outside of your open window — a cool breeze filtering through, welcomed into your home after the agonising heat of the day. you shiver, not because of the reprise of the cold, but because you’re nervous. you’ve been nervous, from the second you parted your lips and called for the colonel who lounges about in your bedroom, amongst your things, tucked between plushies and other collectibles as though he belongs right there with them.
and he does. caleb always belongs where you are. to you, to your heart.
logically, you know that. that there’s no reason for you to be afraid of the question dancing across the tip of your tongue — he would never judge you, not after everything you’ve been through together and apart.
“yeah, pips?”
so, why does your heart race? why is your pulse loud and erratic in your ears when he absentmindedly responds to you — voice gravelly and hoarse from all that you’ve gotten up to today. from not being used in the last half hour. the intimidating, cold and calculated leader of the Farspace Fleet, lies on his back between your legs, ruffled chocolatey hair soft against your clammy inner thigh, his breathing even and phone casually in hand. he looks so…cute and relaxed in comparison to how you feel as what if you ruin that with your question and the silly little thoughts running through your mind.
you shouldn’t feel this crazy or this nervous. not when you’re wearing one of his old zip up hoodies from college with the large DAA logo printed on the back that’s beginning to peel. underneath; your skin is bare, littered with love bites and bruises dotted across your body like a paint splatter on a canvas, and you’re sweaty perhaps because you’re only just calming down from your last round or maybe because you’re terrified. you shouldn’t feel terrified talking to caleb. not when he’s the one who’s done this to you. hours and hours of sex and making love to you and you still feel that nauseating sense of fear crawling through your ribcage like a stubborn weed desperately trying to reach the sun.
he’s yours. for crying out loud. he’s your boyfriend! he’s seen what lies beneath the surface, taken a peek beneath the folds of your flesh that protect the vital parts of you. caleb… he’s seen you in every shape and form, on dark sad days and brighter happy ones. there should be no shame in what you’re about to ask him, even if he says no to your request — caleb has been careful enough with your heart all this time, he knows how to let you down gently and easily.
secretly, you can only hope that he doesn’t have to.
a dry, cotton-like sensation invades your mouth and block the words on your mind — it’s just caleb, it’s always been just you and caleb. there’s no need to get so deathly anxious like this.
you hold a breath and swallow before you speak again.
“can we try something?”
“of course,” he responds almost instantly — cautious and caring. the colonel swipes away whatever app he’d been doomscrolling on, setting his amethyst ridden sights on you. with a gentle nod of his head; fluffy brown locks mussed and out of place, he rolls onto his tummy to look at you — caleb silently lets you know that you have all of his attention; that he’s ready to listen because it’s in his nature to spoil you. “what is it?” every fibre and strand of DNA that makes up caleb’s being is wired to meet your every demand and desire — there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, whether you’d asked him for it or not… because he knows you. he always has or he’s trained himself to pick up the new pieces of your soul he hasn’t had the chance to learn yet.
right off the bat, he doesn’t push you away or make you feel silly for hesitating — the better half of your brain knows he wouldn’t have done that. even still, you’ve got a lot of nerves to shake before you can fully confess to him.
words intertwined and twisted together like sturdy rope begin to catch in your throat, they coagulate and you choke on them and even though what you want to say is so oh-so-simple, you find yourself too flustered and panicked to speak. “i-if it’s okay, could you…u-um—?” frustration bubbles in your gut, why can’t you just say it, speak your mind with the man who loves you entirely too much for his own good.
sensing the spike in your anxiety, the one eighty from your previously relaxed and lovey-dovey state — caleb immediately moves to sit up, the depth of his perfect purple eyes increasing with concern.
“hey, hey, you’re okay,” he pushes himself over you, a large hand settling at the centre of your chest to guide its motions. “breathe slow for me, speak when you’re ready. i’m not goin’ anywhere, pipsqueak,” the colonel says with a charming smile, words sugar-coated and earnest. “promise.”
you do your best to follow caleb’s set of instructions — hyperaware of the push of his palm against your lungs as you breathe in and out for the man above you, caging you in against the sheets where evidence of your love lies. if he wanted to, he could carve out your chest, steal your organs, rip you apart like predator on prey… but he doesn’t. not quite ready to devour you, not until you’re the one who’s ready again. so instead, you choose to focus your attention on the puppy-like tilt of his head, the marks you’d left against the exposed parts of his tanned, manuka honey skin and most importantly — his smile. the one that shines and persists through the darkness of the night, despite all that he’s been through and all that he’s lost.
caleb shines brightest when he’s here. with you.
“i want you to call me something —” you say bravely, finally feeling calm enough. “— when we...” reaching up, you toy with the dexterous fingers slayed out against your chest — noting the way in which caleb’s thumb reassuringly strokes underneath the swell of your breast where it meets your ribcage ( from over your hoodie, of course). it distracts you momentarily, makes your breath hitch as you lose your train of thought to skilled and tender touches.
when we have sex.
you finish the sentence in your head.
it amuses him, the colonel, how you’re so shy and timid now. after you’ve been in this room for hours — going at it, screaming and moaning each other’s names until the roof threatens to come down. yet, caleb’s no longer in the mood for teasing, taunting or being ‘mean’ right now. any sinful, salacious nickname he had for you slips from his mind, though it’s not like you haven’t used degrading ones before when you’re both up and to being experimental. but he can tell, you’re feeling shy and nervous to ask, so it must be wanting to ask him for something different.
“wanna tell me what it is?” he prompts, dragging out the sound of the vowels dotted amongst his question.
you swallow thickly, a weak attempt to rid yourself of the haze you find yourself falling under. like caleb has cast a spell on you that gets you hot under the skin and needy for more than just his ghosting touch. the leader of the Farspace Fleet’s gaze drops from your softening eyes that simmer with something moreish and hesitant — like you’re afraid to be greedy before his stare becomes drawn to your exposed neck, the column of your throat as you gulp down your inhibitions. he tracks the movement, one that’s slow and torturous to the point where it strikes heat underneath his skin in a similar manner to that of a flint and stone — so this burning heat, mixed with the lightest hints of lust, swirls deep within the colonel’s gut.
caleb has always felt as though something belonged there, at the base of your pretty throat where your subtle adam’s apple bobs as you swallow gently. perhaps a pendant of his initials or something a little tighter that fits like his hand. he’s not sure, but you’ve previously enjoyed pressure there in your most intimate moments.
“can we uh…” blinking slowly, dizzied by your boyfriend’s lazy yet reassuring grin from up as he waits for you with an unbelievable amount of patience, you try again with your words. “can you try calling me ‘puppy’?”
silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable nor is it humiliating.
instead, it crackles with something more. something hot and electric and excitingly familiar. anticipation and desire trickles into the atmosphere — pulling caleb into your orbit, your sweet voice as you ask, as you murmur the pet name and your perfect bambi eyes lulling him in like a gravitational force. he quirks a brow. “puppy, huh?” he repeats slowly, just to make sure. drawing out the syllables and noting how you squirm for later. “how come?”
he’s still hanging above you, he has been all this time — leaning his weight on strong, glistening forearms that flex as caleb shifts over your frame. not to mention the fact that he’s still shirtless, chest heaving with the weight of what could happen next. the colonel’s brown hair, shaggy and sticking up in all directions from your last round of sex, shields you from his berry shaded eyes as they darken and begin to pick you to pieces — as if you were a puzzle to be figured out, he’s still learning what you like, still learning your body even though he’s admired it… you for years. getting to know how your pretty little mind works, what makes it spin, what makes you tick.
there’s a lot of time he has to make up for, a lot of things he has yet to try with you.
“i’ve read about it, i like how it sounds … i think from you i’d...” you continue and fight the urge to curl in on yourself, choosing to loosely wrap your arms around caleb’s neck instead. his response is instinctual and practised — quick to pull you up by your forearms and straight into his lap, the sudden change in position catching you off guard. “i-i’d really like it if you called me that.” with the new proximity, you’re forced to let caleb see your neediness up close, the dilation of your pupils as you set your sights on the man you desire most along with the hunger that seeps from your pores.
he can almost smell the need for sex on you or perhaps it’s just the way you get so wet at the slightest hint of attention.
cocking his head to the side, the usually cool and callous colonel looks up at you — expression teasing, yet curious, with his tongue poking the soft inner epithelium of his cheek as he watches you squirm like an insect under a microscope. “you would like it if i called you my puppy?” he’s trying to capture you in his hypnotic gaze, and you’re falling for it miserably — shuddering in caleb’s lap as he shifts to manspread on the edge of your bed.
oh.
you bite your lip, its skin still sore from previous makeout sessions, because like this — you can feel it all. the sudden swell to caleb’s cock, concealed by grey sweatpants halfheartedly thrown on during the aftermath, and the way its length pulsates against your sex barely covered by a thin, barely-there pair of floral printed panties. “mhm…” is all you manage to respond with, your abused and used hole already clenching down on the press of his twitching girth against you.
a soft warning follows. “be a good girl, use your words.”
“yes.”
an elated grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s stupidly perfect face. “you’re so pretty, puppy,” it’s like he’s rewarding you for being brave, showering you with immediate and overbearingly candied praise that has you melting in his lap like hot sugar on the stove. caleb slowly starts to buck upwards, grinding, pushing his tip through your clothed pussy lips as it reddens with need. “i love you, puppy. want me to say it like that?”
you nod carefully, because if you give an inch caleb will take a mile. he’ll tease you relentlessly over your confession and to be honest, you’ll like it. “love you caleb,” comes your meek reply, rolling your hips in synchronicity with his own — your bodies dancing to a tune only the two of you know. “sensitive…” you gasp quietly when his bulbous, leaky cockhead catches on your clit, swollen and achy between your bare and bruised thighs.
“but it feels good, right?” the colonel drawls, his tone husky and low — its baritone notes scratching an itch in your brain you can’t reach on your own. large and veiny hands find themselves settling at the meat of your waist — placed there for comfort and subtle guidance whilst caleb slowly begins to pull you back and forth over his prominent erection. the movements are precise and purposeful, intending to pull you under the surface waters of lust and twist at the familiar knots beginning to form in your lower belly. he knows you, like one would know their morning routine or the backs of their hands. caleb has spent his entire life studying you — in this moment, he knows exactly what you need.
a push. permission.
to be told it’s okay, to take from him so selfishly. to indulge in him now that no one is watching or judging. to let yourself get lost in the ecstasy he provides…because that’s what he was made for — to please you, keep you happy and make you feel safe.
“so good.”
it’s true, you do feel so good. his erect cock makes a home tucked between your barely-clothed folds — your wetness seeping through his sweats, outlining his length as it catches on the hood of your clit. the fortress built around your mind falters and falls apart, just as you do between deft fingers that belong to your loyal and dedicated colonel. his grip shifts downwards, sinking into the supple flesh of your semi-exposed ass before pulling you down onto his prominent girth — keeping you there as you bucks up to test the waters and eases you beyond your sensitivity.
“that’s my girl. my good puppy,” caleb mumbles firmly under his breath letting you know that he adamantly means what he tells you, the dangerous lilt to his whispered words and his velvety voice thickening with ardour. you whimper and lean into the praise that wafts through the night air like an electric current crackling with unspoken, unleashed desire. “know just what you like, don’t i?” and god, yes he does. your body moves on instinct, hips swirling down to match the pace of his because he knows just what spots to hit. even if it hurts, even if your poor pussy is wet and raw from previous rounds — you can’t and won’t fight the craving to have caleb once again.
slick sounds layer underneath the echoes of shifting fabric. every single movement that causes them is feverish and hot, setting you on fire from the inside out, burning at your veins and causing blood to simmer underneath the surface or your skin — taking on the form of embarrassment and neediness. it rushes through your system, coagulated red blood cells fusing together to worsen the feeling. he’s too much yet not enough. even with the fact that the two of you belong like this, bodies fit together perfectly as though they’re the final pieces of your love story’s puzzle. caleb was always meant to be yours, always meant to walk by your side and come back down from his place in the skies to make you see stars.
“y-yes…” you stutter out weakly, as though all the air in your lungs has been swiped away — replaced by a burning, salaciously smokey flame. you’re lost in the smog, in the darkness that shrouds your brain making it easier for caleb to move and manipulate your body in a way that suits you both. he looks so smug, so proud seated underneath you while you rut and grind against his throbbing girth. if you had the strength to look, to fight your fluttering eyelids, you’d surely be able to note the darkening patch on the front of his sweats — not sure if it’s from your slippery pussy as she leaks through your panties or the precum that oozes from your boyfriend’s bright red tip.
the very notion has your vision swimming even if you can’t bring yourself to glance down; instead focusing on raking your fingers through his chocolatey locks to ground yourself and the way inky black swallows the natural purple glow to his eyes — showing you how far gone the colonel is, showing you that he’ll keep crossing this line with you over and over again. that no kink or pet name could ever deter him from wanting you as badly as he does.
caleb laughs breathily at the far-gone look in your eye, the way your lips part with those sweet little mewls — letting him get a good look at the drool and saliva pooling on your tongue. “look at you, puppy. barely there ‘n i haven’t even kissed you yet. so sweet and needy for it…yeah?” an inkling of cheer and amusement makes itself known in the intonation of his voice, the praise melting you from the inside out like dangerously hot sugar at its boiling point. so he’s mocking you, ever so slightly, condescendingly grinning up at you with rows of perfect white teeth and furrowed brows that occasionally twitch in pleasure.
but that doesn’t mean he’s doing any better than you, in fact, he’s probably closer to his fall from grace. you’ll never truly understand the depth of caleb xia’s want for you — every sound, every sob or sniff and shift of your increasingly sluice sex against his clothed and meaty girth gives him head rush. he never thought he’d be the one to have you like this and he couldn’t tell you the number of times he’d pictured being in this moment. the very idea saved like a secret kept under his tongue, only uttered in the form of breathy moans in the depths of the night.
now you’re his and you’re humping the print of his dick like your life is on the line — adrenaline guiding rapid rounds you grind your hips in. you belong to him and you’re clinging onto him like a life line, like he’s your last thread of sanity before you lose yourself completely — turning brainless, void of all thought whilst you look to caleb for all answers. it’s only when some kind of hybrid cry, an adorable mix between a whimper and a sob, drips like honey from your plush lips ( as though you really are a sweet puppy looking for treats ) that the colonel is able to refocus and join you in the present.
“hey. hey there, pup. you’re burnin’ up,” the colonel’s cock kicks up against your pulsating mound — pressing the ridges of his spiralling blueish veins between drenched folds, dragging them over your swollen clit deliciously. he thinks about it, really, he does. teasing you further to the point where you might actually burst into tears — but as his rough, dexterous fingers push you into his bare chest by the base of your spine, before they snake down to your fleshy ass just to spread you nice and wide, he switches gears. better to soothe you, coo at you, be the man you can rely on when your desires get the best of you and you can’t even think straight. “what should i do, huh? wanna make it feel better, baby. tell me what you need me to do.”
how to take care of you.
thick and viscous essence glues your cheeks together, seeping hotly through caleb’s clothes whilst he pulls them apart hungrily… and deep down he already knows the answer — his body, his mind even down to his cells and DNA, they know what has to be done in order to take care of you.
of course you don’t respond, reduced to puppy whines and snivels whilst your sex drools all over him in a subtle claim. poor thing, poor baby, you need the colonel to fix it for you — clean up your messes as he always has.
smoothing over your feverish skin, your boyfriend hums to himself — the sound vibrating from deep within his chest, sending a spark of lust moving through your own body and down to your weeping slit. “how about a kiss? c’mere, wanna kiss you.” the tip of his tongue pries apart your lips before you can even register the wet sensation as it licks over chapped skin in order to reach your own tongue. now caleb’s angled his head upwards, earnest and intentional, ready to swallow you whole – though contrastingly…his kisses aren’t too rough or fast paced. much unlike the way the two of you hump one another other. no, with each lip lock – you find that the end game of his lips is different. barely there, gentle as he slothily rolls his pink muscle over each feature of your hot mouth. claiming you, tasting you and promising you pleasure with unspoken works so long as you trust him.
you taste like the hours of love that you’ve made and the soured apple candies you’d shared in between – but underneath remains the subtle notes of you. caleb leans up for more, swallowing each and every one of your pitiful cries because you oh-so willingly give them to him in a gesture of love and trust. although your thoughts feel sluggish and mushy, you instinctively seek him out for comfort and lust. the dark haired man has never been more thankful for your bravery, daring to try out this new kink. it brings out a cuter, more vulnerable side of you that he just wants to keep all for himself.
perhaps its the lack of air and oxygen circulating from your lungs to your brain whilst you make out and dry-fuck like teenagers – but you find your limbs going so slack on top of caleb to the point where he has no choice but to collapse back into your bed. despite how clipped and cold the colonel, has grown to be, warmth blossoms underneath your skin as his palms smooth their way up your back and trace the curve in your spine until caleb is properly able to cup your throat from behind — pulling you up for another soul consuming smooch. he relishes in your flavour, the promise on your tongue and the dedication behind your teeth,
between the sloppy kisses you exchange, uncoordinated but full of want, each one of them doting — caleb exhales desperately through his nose, loving lavender orbs fluttering at the never-ending deliciously hot friction between your overworked bodies. he should be spent, should be exhausted after spending hours pouring passion into you until your limbs were loose in their sockets and splayed out on the sheets … but there’s something about the needy look in your eye, the sparkle ignited in them when he calls you his sweet puppy that keeps the colonel going. “will you let me fuck you? ‘cause i really wanna fuck you, puppy. please.” he lets out a glacé gripe, dragging out each syllable in a way that makes you go a little dumb and woozy for him. “let me roll us over, yeah? lie on your back for me…”
there’s a brief moment where caleb pulls back just to kick off his sweats, but you howl like you’ve been wounded or shoved back into your puppy crate without so much as a kiss goodnight. so, the dark haired man doesn’t even bother, shoving down the fabric with his boxers in one go, until they sit under his fat, heavy balls and his leaky shaft is able to spring free — hitting his washboard abs with a dull, sticky thud. no matter how many times you find yourselves making love, you can’t help but drool when caleb’s cock comes into your line of sight. he’s as thick as he is long. accompanied by a flushed tip dribbling a viscous stream of opaque white. proof of the arousal you stir up within him. “so impatient, be a good girl and wait for me. you can do that, right?” the dark-haired colonel tuts but… its not malicious. never that. not with you. instead rather boarding on the edge of restraint — trying to have patience for a sweet pet that has yet to properly be trained.
all you can respond with his a symphony of whimpers and whistle-like moans — lips parted with strings of saliva tethering your tongue to the roof of your mouth on display for your gross, pervy boyfriend to see. he loves the view, he really does, and it only makes the man more eager to wreck or ruin you until you’re satisfied. caleb could please you for hours, it’s all he’s ever wanted to do — go rounds and rounds without stopping if that’s all that you want. tossing the name puppy into the mix only worsened this desire for him.
no longer intent on letting time pass, effortlessly, the colonel flips you onto your back and groans softly as your legs instinctively part to make room for him. you can’t hide the way your sex glistens with arousal, a fresh slick webbed over your puffy and abused folds only worsening the transparency of your barely-there panties. they’re practically see through now, letting caleb see every inch of your perfect cunt and the way she clenches hungrily around nothing.
a greedy little hole ready to be filled after hours and hours of being fucked silly.
all because you like being reduced to nothing but a dumb puppy.
the way he watches you, picks you apart with that alluring amethyst stare is entirely too hypnotic and tilts your world on its axis. it’s crazy how he’s always so easily able to pull you into his orbit, even more so with the way you’re unable to tell if it’s because of his evol or the way he loves up on you. on instinct, your hips jump up as if to beckon caleb to fill you to the brim with whatever he can. you know you’re being voracious, taking whatever you can from the colonel who gives you the entire universe already, but if you can already taste him in the intimate buzz of the night air, smell him on your skin and feel him even when he’s not physically touching you — what more is asking to be bred like the desperate puppy in heat that you are.
another beat passes before a large and rough palm snakes its way down to caleb’s bobbing erection — he pumps himself twice, languidly, nearly getting lost in the pleasure and the sight of you enticingly on display for him.your body shines with light perspiration, your chest unevenly heaves with desperation, your pretty lips bitten and swollen, your inner thighs glossy and glazed with slick… and god, your eyes. his gut painfully twists with lust when he notices your darkened bedroom eyes . he could cum right here, right now. but your tone when you call his name is dulcet yet demanding — no foreplay. just him.
“caleb…”
you sound so broken and yet the only thing on your mind, the only word you can think to utter is his name… which belongs only to you. it’s so entertaining to witness the ways in which you crave him and unravel just for him, putting him at the centre of your universe where you are the centre of his own. you’ve had enough of the sensual hump and grind the two of you were once committed to, every part of you is aching for more of him — a painfully hot sensation, almost like a supernova, beginning to burn in the pit of your stomach. staving off his orgasm, caleb shifts forward on the bed and temperately presses his now bare, throbbing shaft against the gusset of your soaked panties — a strangled noise searing at the ridges in his throat at the sight of your juices seeping out of the cotton fabric.
he’s so close to being inside you, so close to shattering your world view because only caleb xia could ever bring you such pleasure. cloying and sticky sounds reverberate between your sweltering sexes whilst caleb pushes the entirety of himself through the length of your juicy slit. “i know, i know,” he coos over the messy soundtrack which is then ad-libbed by gentle sighs of relief, even as his pathetically weepy cockhead catches on the tight ring of your entrance that clenched down on him ever so slightly. the tiny little hole squeezes sweet droplets of essence all over him, adding the extra lube the colonel needs to slip inside of you without any unnecessary pain. “so fuckin’ soaked,” caleb voices quietly, his cadence made fuller by the admiration he has for you. “slick little puppy cunt… she’s gonna drive me crazy.”
he can hardly believe how he chastised you earlier for your impatience when he can’t even keep himself in check — between watching your angelic face crumple with babyish tears at the lewd praise to the way your spasming hole glides perfectly over his naked mushroomed tip, caleb is seconds away from losing his mind. he can’t take much longer, every second he waits to fuck you stupid has him losing his composure, and so, the dark haired leader of the Farspace Fleet finally hooks your soiled undies over the meat of your ravaged folds and aligns himself with your eager entrance — rolling his girth deep into you in one swift motion.
both of you let out gargled stuttering breaths you hadn’t realised either of you were holding — finding solace in the fact that your bodies are finally joining as one for the nth time that day.
with one hand, caleb carefully feeds your selfish sex with every inch — whilst the other roughly pushes up the hoodie that drowns your perfectly soft body. he touches you everywhere, revealing and mapping out more of your supple skin the more inches of him you take. when his comforting and warm palms eventually smooth over your stomach, the colonel presses down and gripes cutely at the outline of himself in your tummy as he bottoms out. “fuck puppy, so wet ‘n warm. can feel you clenchin’ down on me. squirmin’. relax for me...” a pleased huff coasts along the column of your throat, now that your boyfriend has thrown his entire body weight on top of you, ready to pound you through the mattress. you’re barely conscious enough to register his instructions, too worked up to focus on more than one thing at a time. “easy, pretty girl.,,”
right now, it’s the weight of his cock nestled against your rippling, wet walls — making a home for him deep within your cunt. “a-ah!” panting and heaving, you keen your head upwards for a kiss to pacify yourself and sag with relief when your boyfriend indulges you, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to help you cope with the delicious stretch of his heavy, sloppy shaft fighting the slight resistance from your sensitive, squishy insides. “mmf— caleb! s’big!” you push the words around in your mouth, cottony on your tongue as the colonel swallows them down in the form of moans.
caleb only manages to nod and press his forehead against yours when the need for oxygen outweighs the need to comfort you with kisses. using a gluttonous grasp he hikes the backs of your knees onto the unfairly perfect dips in his waist for a better angle, thrusting into you experimentally. “you say that every time, pips. when are you gonna get used to takin’ me?” amusement fluffs up his question, though it’s not long before his confident attitude dissolves and a mop of chocolaty brown hair is dropping to your neck in search of some sort of reprieve — a tempting whine breaches the seal of his lips and tickles the shell of your ear, because now that your hips are pressed flush against his and your pulsating puppy pussy envelopes him fully, caleb isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hold out. “s-sorry puppy, not gonna last long. not with you wrapped around me like this.”
“s’okay. feel so full…” you cry out blinking away the bleary edge to your vision — and then you turn to look at him with those sickeningly sweet bambi eyes at the same time he tilts his head to look at you. catching your gaze. those same eyes that seem a little too innocent when compared to the way your prettily filthy pussy locks around his aching dick.
everything is so snug, sloppy and caleb can’t help but sigh out fondly — you want to trap him inside. keep him all to yourself. he can’t even pull out now, not even to start the slow roll of his hips into yours because you refuse to let up, let go, pulling spurts from precum from him that could be enough to breed you if he tried. “but you’re taking me so well,” his voice is soft, laced with love and lust — you might almost miss it over the squelch of your own cunt each time he tries to make a move. “don’t wanna have to keep remindin’ you…you gotta relax for me, puppy.”
and you do try, you really do. to be a good and obedient — letting the tension in your bones, in the base of your spine and the joints in your hips seep into your fingertips whilst they reach out to grab the sheets. “‘m tryin’,” you say petulantly, small and weak like an angelic little thing, bucking upwards as if to force yourself to accommodate caleb’s sheer size. “move please. y-you can move…”
even if it hurts, you want him to have you, destroy your puppy cunt until it’s gushing and gross with even more of his cum — you’re practically full of it anyway. the idea is fulfilling, the way you want him so bad even when you’re struggling to take him, make room for him in your precious little pussy. light kisses cascade down your neck to ease the tightness on your muscles, rendering you dumb. stupid. weak enough to let the colonel pull back from the snugness of your heat to start a slow and steady steam-roll to his hips, his own thrusts.
“that’s it…that’s it, baby,” the brunette wraps an arm around the back of your head to keep you anchored to the bed as it creaks beneath the new weight of his ministrations. “even after hours, you’re still so good at takin’ it.” caleb starts you off easy, a kindness to your fluttering hole that’s been used and abused just mere hours before but the creamy strings of your arousal clinging to each blue ridge that spirals down the length of him act as motivation to claim you over and over again. faster. harder. give you everything. more. “can’t get enough of your caleb’s cock. ain’t that right, puppy?”
he slurs his words, sultry simpers slipping out from between his lightly chapped lips — letting them break out from behind the barricade of his perfect white teeth. hot air fills the little space between you both, buzzing with the lust expelled from your pores and the splashy saliva pouring from your open mouth when you mewl out for him. you nod, just barely, and in response — the colonel pounds into you with more vigor, the affirmation running through his system like pure honey, liquid gold.
there’s a friction from your soft cotton panties against the veins on his chubby cock, deliciously rubbing against him each time he glides in and out of swollen pussy. you have no idea how good it burns for caleb, how happy he is to see your seams loosen underneath him and your sanity to fade away along with his own. “g-good, ‘cause it’s all yours. always yours. just like you’re always going to be mine.” caleb wonders if you know much he needs you, how he’d die without you and how you’re the only person able to bring him back from the darkest parts of himself.
“m-mine?” your soft palms become clammy and tacky as they move to map up and down your boyfriend’s toned back — pulling him into you with the underlying message that you’ll never ever let him go. he’s so good to you, indulging your little fantasy, fucking you into the waning bed like it’s his god given right. you love caleb and all that he does for you. to you. so you hold him tight, unwilling to let him leave your silken insides because you feel like you might die if his dick isn’t safely tucked into your ribbed, sloshing walls.
something about the way you so meekly ask, coupled with the scratches you rake across his honey manuka skin in your own form of a fated red string — drives the colonel up the fucking wall. he’s dazed whilst he grinds into you avidly, jamming his seedy cockhead into your g-spot and swallowing down a thick whine each time he feels sweet nectar spew from between your nether lips in reply. painting him, glazing him, covering him nastily. “that’s right, that’s right sweet puppy. ‘m all yours,” extending the letters in ‘all’, caleb finds himself commenting back entirely too quickly and eagerly — grunting, heightening the ecstasy both you feel. he takes one of your hands in his, bringing it to the molten centre of his bare chest so you can feel his heartbeat. how it yearns for you. “no one else will ever get me like this…”
the display of dedication causes dopamine to bloom across the surface of your brain and other happy hormones streak through your bloodstream, stinging at your clit all smooshed up against caleb’s pelvis as he bucks into you passionately. every weighty, sensational drag of his dick along your gummy walls sends you to the high heavens and every one of his pathetically hungry moans heaved against the shell of your ear brings you back down to earth. grounding you. it goads you to clumsily circle your hips upwards, sweetly trying to match your boyfriend’s ravenous pace.
with skin slapping against skin rhythmically, your body jolts up the bed from the force of caleb’s hips clashing and crashing into yours — each movement full of love, intimate commitment because your bodies move together in ways only lovers know. sharing a familiar choreography, tangled limbs and high pitched moans that should be enough to wake your neighbours. there’s power behind the manner in which the colonel ploughs into you. he’s going so fast you’re scared he might rip through the underwear clinging to your waist but either way it has your heart racing beneath your breasts as they bounce, hardened nipples grazing caleb’s — you’re skin to skin, the blistering hot temperature of your flesh and bones mashing together fuelling this next round of passion.
slow, nearly painful waves crawl down from the base of your skull to the bottom of your spine — a tell tell sign of your orgasm and the release only the colonel can give you. he has you seizing up around him until sugary sighs tear from your throat and you to have to bite down on your lush lips to stop yourself from wailing. witnessing you fall apart like this creates an adoring hiccup in the way the cold commander bucks down into your quivering, creamy pussy. every mewl disintegrates into a loose gasp of his name and its syllables, all muddled up and panted out like a puppy succumbing to her heat and every jolt of your body beneath his earns you a seamless, steady stroke of his messy cockhead along the pleasure spots dotted along your walls that only he knows about.
“can’t last any longer… it’s too much…” you bleat hoarsely, sounding more wrecked and aroused than he’s ever had you before. you’re both so sticky, glued to one another by a crude mix of your arousals and sweat from your session of love making — caleb is relentless at his loving, the pinnacle of your pleasure melting into a constant trance like a forest fire that’s too stubborn to go out.
he laughs at you, almost patronising but still in a lower register, sexier and deeper than his usual voice. “yeah? but if you want it…you’ll keep going,” now he’s whispering darkly, licking a wet trace up the side of your face and tasting the perspiration on your skin that makes you shine in the dark. practically glowing from the sex, the pretty pet names he calls you to help you along and teach your high. “my perfect puppy gets so happy when she’s full of cock ‘n cum, hm? bet if you had a tail it would be waggin’ like nobody's business.” he adds, pinging the waistband of your panties against your stomach.
although he’s the one in control right now, sucking on the junction of your jaw and leaving his mark — making you squeal like a lamb at the slaughter. caleb feels as though he’s trapped under your spell, ready to give you his all and his everything. your cunt languidly rolls up to meet his, breathy whimpers tacky against the wet bridge of his cupid’s bow. he falls into a trance as he fucks you? hikes your thighs up from his waist and over his wide-set shoulders, spreading you apart to split you open and hit deep. he wants to go deeper, harder — never letting up on your g-spot, because when he’s jamming up against it, pressing down on it… he gets to keep all of your pitchy squeaks and sighs to himself like they’re a promise of your commitment to him.
his ownership over you. his perfect puppy.
the newfound angle has your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, lips constantly parted the closer you get to the edge. “g-gods… caleb, please!” you gargle on whatever words that come to mind, mumbling praises into the tight and barely there space between your bodies. said body speaks for you, squeezing and frothing and foaming at the thick base of his pulsing length. whilst caleb hugs your head, you grip his neck — shaky fingers curling in the roots of thick, chocolatey hair all mussed up from sex and tugging on those same locks in that way he likes.
no one would believe you if you told them the colonel practically sobbed at the sudden sensation, overstimulated by both the pain and the pleasure. the molten heat of your precious rippling cunt coated in his pre-seed, the rough friction of your panties still stuffed to one side and keeping him strapped to you, the way you murmur his name between a litter of curses. caleb’s unfairly long lashes flutter against the apples of your burning cheeks, drawing all whiny and romantic over the saliva spread across the planet of his tongue. “good puppy, clenching down on me just like that, do you think you can lift your hips for me?”
you do just as he says, although the colonel mostly manhandles you into position — forcing you into perfect submission, letting you be small and safe with him. your hips rise from the sex stained sheets, helping the tune of his measured grinds and ardent, calculated stream of lunges into your blistering mound. but while you follow his command, he follows the instruction of your own body — greedy puppy cunt refusing to let him go, locking down his feverish pre-cum drooling cockhead against your gushing walls.
large palms, rough and slightly cold smooth from the chub at your waist round to your back — fingertips digging into the curve of your spine to keep you in place whilst caleb picks up the pace. his strength comes into handy, alternating between gentle oscillations of his hips to hard, purposeful plunges that drag you along to the very peak of cloud nine. you spew copious amounts of nectar around him, marking his heavy breeder’s balls as your own, dripping viscous arousal onto the bed — you’re so turned on, so close that it’s made obvious by the nasty pap, pap, pap reverberating from your puppy pussy. sounding like a dreamy aphrodisiac, if it could be a noise or a sound.
your boyfriend withdraws from his warm solace at your neck to observe you, drink in the sight of you sprawled out against the pillows — lip caught between your teeth and expression delirious like you’re high on some kind of class A drug. he looks at you like you’re artwork hung in a fine art museum, flawless, to be admired. it makes you giggle breathlessly, back arching away from the bed whilst you greedily spasm around him involuntarily, almost as if you’re rewarding him for taking care of your needs.
everything turns languid and lazy, caleb sluggishly massages that one spot nestled deep within with his syrupy, sappy pre-cum coated cock — lost in the lassitude painted across your pretty features. a place that only he knows how to locate. caleb grins wide, slow and sexy when you choke on a babyish whinge — canines on display as his lips quirk upwards. “right there, puppy? you need it right there?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, he can tell by the contraction in your tummy and how your eyes roll back into your skull too. “mnn fuck, deserve a treat for listenin’ so well,” he swoops down, licking at your top lip. “c’mon, open up…”
again, you easily follow his dominant orders — hot breath coasting over the tip of his tongue as you part your lips to make room for whatever gift he has for you. the leader of the Farspace Fleet leans over, letting a slow stringy glob of spit fall into your mouth before the rough pad of a single thumb moves quickly to smear the frothy mix over your pretty pouty lips. “So drooly; aren’t you?” he says tranquilly, more so to himself. you like it though, the way he talks down on you, throwing your hips up to match his thrusts and make a home for his milky girth between your creamy soaked folds both rubbed and fucked raw. “shit… that’s it, take it. take it where you need me most. take what you want from me, what you need from me.”
a dull thump against the mattress from every thrust, brackets the airy moans that you share — rising above the sound of smacking lips and tongues being sucked on. your mixed precum and essence soiling the bedding creates a shine on caleb’s pelvis and webs over your thrumming clit — the new wetness distracts you from the heavy clap of your boyfriend’s balls against the curve of your ass, voiding anything you’d planned on saying.
“‘m d-drooly…” you stutter softly.
caleb hums, leaning down to nip the tip of your nose. “a drooly what?”
“puppy. ‘m a drooly puppy. wanna cum caleb. please…” a hearty sob tears your lungs to shreds, shaking your body right down to its core. you don't think you can take anymore, you can’t hold off the orgasm that burns through your nerve endings like a flame to kindle. finally being able to admit that you’re his puppy washes over you like a burn salve, helps you to find the energy to push back and forth on his cock to alleviate its ache. so that the notorious leader of the Farspace Fleet can cum with you. the notorious colonel leaks and leaks, an endless stream of near transparent white that oozes against your wet walls from his bright red tip and aids his movements. “g’na cum!”
it’s so cute how you announce your pending orgasm to him as if the signs aren’t already there. the commander, your boyfriend, your caleb, knows every tick and sign that you have — he can read your body like an open book, he probably wrote the pages too. he knows when you’re close, when you need more, or when he has you right on the edge. no one knows more about you, than caleb xia does. and what his puppy wants, his puppy absolutely gets.
“i know, i know, baby,” caleb goads, a crease forming between his brows from where he’s focused on bringing you to release. “can feel the way this puppy cunt is lockin’ up around me. so close to creaming. all over me, yeah? all over me puppy. give it to me..” he can tell that you’re right there, teetering on the edge of bliss and insanity — he won’t keep you writhing much longer, since you’re already so sensitive from all the sex you’ve had during the day alone. he’s just happy, prideful to be pulling another orgasm out of his pretty girl while making all of her fantasies come true.
your panties are so soaked through they could be rung out and drip your arousal for days — though your slit is in no better condition, pouring treacly essence onto the purplish forked veins of caleb’s shaft as it pulses with his own peak. he feels too much sympathy to make you hold it and overwork your cunt, not when you sound so wet and cry so loud and beg for mercy. he slaps your clit, patting it oh-so lovingly to help you along — tilting his head to the side to get the best view of you breaking underneath him. “go ahead, pup,” he coos to you, making a promise only he can keep. “make yourself feel good, cum on my cock. let me see it, kay?”
“a-ah! c-caleb!” arching upwards, pressing your naked chest to his in an attempt to seek out the colonel’s closeness for comfort — you succumb to the unravelling knot in your lower tummy, the one undone by uncoordinated and feverish thrusts. your final words catch on the edge of your teeth, sitting wetly on the seam of your lips as you blubber out for the high commander himself. your lover.. “h-holy shit… ‘mmmfuck! c-cummin’!” you manage to get out as your release crashes over you like waves on a shoreline — pulled in by the moon’s gravity, just like caleb’s own force pulls you into him. when you cum, it’s loud, all of your walls come tumbling down and the colonel is the only one able to piece you back together. shakes and shivers overtake your body, darkness floods your vision as your pupils dilate and you don't even realise you’re practically fainting from the force of your orgasm until it’s too late. blacked out and blissed out beneath caleb.you squirt so hard, it nearly forces the sheet thickness of your boyfriend from your abused and swollen folds.
but he doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull out — collapsing on top of you and using the last of his own strength to chase his well earned release. “that’s my girl, such a good fuckin’ girl. cumming all over me. all over her cock,” caleb rambles aimlessly, working himself through the violent spasms of your cunt just so that he can keep rocking into you. “can i i breed you? give this sweet hole all my cum? get you all round ‘n full of our pups? t-think i will, think you’ll like it,” he gets way too into your fantasy but you’re too brainless to care, allowing the colonel to use your trembling body like a ragdoll to get off, barely fighting the agonising ache in his pelvis and the orgasm that tears him to pieces like a black hole.“fuck, fuuuuck. oh my god, ‘m cummin’ got you puppy…c-cumming!”
one last squeeze and clench of your ribbed walls down on him, practically begging to be filled with cum, is the final push caleb needs to reach cloud nine. instinctively, he forces himself as deep as your pussy will allow — mushroomed tip nuzzling your overstimulated pleasure spots before a burst of white hot seed fills you to the absolute brim. the Fleet commander, usually so rigid and strong and eerily composed, lets out a strangled sob against your hairline — shaking like a leaf and bucking weakly into you to make sure whatever he’s given you is able to stick. there’s so much of it, despite how many rounds you’ve gone, and it smears over your cute little clit, hole and pudgy pussy lips until there’s nothing left for him to give.
the two of you fall into romantic, love-tainted silence — a heaving, heavy breathing pile of limbs on your bed that most definitely needs a good change of sheets and linens. neither of you can find it in your hearts to care in that moment, instead, immediately chasing one another’s lips for comforting kisses as you languidly grind against each other. where his cock intermittently throbs as it softens, your pussy occasionally flutters as you calm down from your high. you don’t let caleb pull out and it’s not like he wants to either.
fatigue sinks its claws into you both, but you can’t stop the way your heart beats erratically and your mind swims with relief. “thank you,” you hum, voice small and appreciative as caleb rolls off of you — yet keeps you close by pulling you into his side. “i love you.”
in any other moment, caleb might have scolded you for your thanks, you’d never need to thank him for fulfilling his duty and taking care of you but he knows you only say it for him. so he knows his act and willingness to try something new for you (albeit in the bedroom), means more than you could ever put into words. so instead, caleb nuzzles into you — plasters a barrage of smooches against your warm face until you’re in fits of giggles and soothed entirely. “i love you most,” he mimics your cadence, allowing the pleasant crackle in the back of his skull to guide his words. “i love everything about you, the way you feel and the way you trust me… and the way you cum so hard when i call you my puppy…”
and even though he’s probably fucked every last drop of energy out of you — you can’t help but sit up with quickness, grasping the closest pillow to whack the colonel into next tuesday. out of pure embarrassment from his teasing, of course.
your once sleepy eyes blow wide, that shy demeanour sweeping over you once more… almost as if you hadn’t just spent the last thirty minutes blabbering all sorts of filth in the name of your own puppy pet play fantasy. “caleb xia!”
“whaaaaat?” your boyfriend drawls slowly, laughing from underneath the pillow you suffocate him with. his sexy tone is almost enough to get you riled up once more.“you asked for it! i’ll even get you a cute little collar for next time. how’s that sound?”
“oh my god, shut up!”
“make me!”
you did ask for it, you suppose. that much is true.
but you’d ask a hundred times over if it meant caleb would fuck you like a dog in rut all over again.
ᯓ Tags: yandere!caleb x fem!reader, obsessive behaviors, psuedocest, noncon, coercion, manipulation, use of gege/mei mei, adopted siblings dynamic, unprotected sex, mentions of baby trapping, creampie, cunninlingus, nicknames like pips, pipsqueak, baby
ᯓ Summary: Caleb comes home from college, much to your excitement. Sadly, you'll be leaving soon for college yourself, leaving the nest and...him. He can't let this happen. He's already sick of pining after you, forever stuck in just the brotherly role he was forced in. He decides to take matters into his own hands, to cross the line and force you to confront the fact that he wants to be so much more.
He'll be whatever you need him to be. Just as long as he doesn't have to pretend he doesn't want to kiss you.
The sight of you, so flushed and flustered, spurred Caleb on. He could feel his cock hardening in his shorts, a throbbing ache that demanded release. "Stop please...we c-can't do this," you pleaded, your voice a breathless whisper, your eyes darting wildly as you tried to push him away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest. Your struggle was futile, and Caleb knew it.
He sighed, a sound that was equal parts resignation and anticipation, and then his lips were on your neck, trailing hot, wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour, his touch both possessive and tender. "You don't want this now," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "but I promise it'll feel good if you stop struggling. I've always taken good care of you haven't I?."
ᯓ AN: Hiii guys! I'm very excited for this to be my first (officially posted) Caleb fic! This trope is uncharted territory for me!! But soo fun to write. I just find it so endearing to kind of delve into the mindset of someone that's stuck in a brotherly role and wants so bad to be more to you that he forces you to break that image of him by forcing himself into you. All because he's worried you'll never see him any other way. EEE so interesting!!!
I really wanted to make it a point that in this fic, Caleb doesn't fully mind having the role of your brother, since he knows that it'll be hard for you to let go of that mindset after so many years. After all, he feels his whole purpose in life is to satisfy your needs. If you still need your gege, he'll be that for you. He just doesn't want to only be your gege :3
No taglist for this since this is a new taboo trope I'm writing and I don't want anyone to be uncomfy. Read at your own risk!!!
You paced your room, heart thudding against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Eyes flicked from the clock to your phone and back again, every second dragging slower than the last. The warm, savory smell of Grandma’s turkey crept in under your door, thick with rosemary and thyme, the scent of holidays and family and everything you’d been waiting for. It should’ve been comforting. Instead, it made your nerves buzz louder.
Why were you this anxious? You talked to Caleb all the time. He called almost every night, even when he was drowning in exams or hanging out with friends you didn’t know. His voice, grainy and tired through the speaker, always lit you up for a little while. He’d ask about your day, tease you about school, listen to you ramble about your latest anime obsession when you found a new one to talk incessantly about. But it wasn’t enough.
You didn’t miss the voice-on-the-phone Caleb. You missed your gege. The one who’d sit cross-legged on your floor with a pencil behind his ear and do your math homework without even looking at the textbook. The one who’d hand you his phone already queued up with your favorite show, tell you to lie down on his lap, and stroke your hair while you slowly drifted off. He used to sneak snacks into your backpack before school, gave you the best nicknames, the worst jokes. Caleb made everything feel simple.
But this reunion was bittersweet in a way too.
Because this time, he wasn’t just coming home—you were getting ready to leave. Your acceptance letters sat in a neat, mocking row on your desk: different cities, different dorms, different lives. It was supposed to be exciting, and sometimes it was. But right now, the thought of walking away from this house, from him, made your chest ache.
You hadn’t even told him yet which school you were leaning toward. Or that you'd been accepted at all. Part of you didn’t want to decide. Part of you wanted to stay in this room, with Grandma’s turkey in the air and Caleb on his way, forever.
You stopped pacing and sat on the edge of your bed, bouncing your leg. Picked up your phone again. No new messages. No updates.
Ugh. He was always so slow. You’d definitely have to tease him about it later—maybe something about needing a calendar instead of a clock.
Deciding to stop torturing yourself, you shoved your phone into your pocket and bounced downstairs, drawn by the mouthwatering smell drifting from the kitchen. Your stomach grumbled in response.
The kitchen looked exactly how you hoped it would. Slightly chaotic, full of steam and clinking dishes, but cozy. Grandma stood at the stove, carefully spooning juices over the golden-brown turkey, her focus intense. She wore her usual holiday apron, the one with a cartoon reindeer holding a spatula, and her hair was pinned up in the same neat bun she always wore when she meant business in the kitchen. The window over the sink was fogged up from the heat, and a half-empty mug of tea sat on the counter beside a folded towel and a cooling pie.
She turned at the sound of your footsteps, her face lighting up with a tired but warm smile. "Dear, can you give me a hand? My arthritis is acting up, and this turkey’s pretty heavy. I swear, they make them bigger every year."
"Yes ma'am!"
You nodded immediately, already reaching for the oven mitts hanging by the fridge. Helping Grandma was non-negotiable, especially when it came to the turkey. Besides, this was your favorite part—slicing into the turkey, feeling the crisp skin give way under the knife, watching the steam rise as tender meat separated in perfect layers. That first cut always felt like a reward for the work, the patience, the buildup. You slid the mitts on and moved to her side, ready to take over.
"Careful," she warned, handing you the baster with a wink. "He’s a juicy one."
You grinned, nodding like a soldier receiving a mission. As you basted the turkey, Grandma leaned back against the counter with a soft sigh, watching you with a combination of pride and nostalgia.
"You know," she said, her eyes softening as she looked over the turkey. "I usually make Caleb do this part . You remember that one year? The second I turned my back, you snuck a whole slice and tried to blame it on him" She laughed, the memory pulling a grin across her face. " You always hovered right here, acting all helpful, but really just waiting for a piece to fall off the platter. You had gravy on your chin and still tried to look innocent."
"And then Caleb took the blame for me anyways and you pretended to believe him" you replied with a grin, but the memory pulled a giggle out of you before you could help it. You could still see it clearly—Caleb standing there with that guilty look he’d perfected just for your antics, apologizing like he’d actually done something wrong.
And Grandma, standing over both of you with that wooden spoon in hand, raising an eyebrow but never pushing too hard. She knew the truth. Of course she did. But she just sighed and let him take the fall anyway.
Just as you picked up the turkey to move it to the table, the sharp chime of the doorbell sliced through the air. You both turned toward the sound, and your hands trembled so hard you nearly dropped the roasting pan. A splash of hot juices nearly burned your wrist, and you hissed under your breath, steadying the pan with both hands.
You gasped, heart launching into your throat. “Oh. Is that him? He's late.” Grandma clicked her tongue and gave you a knowing, warm smile, knowing exactly what was going through your mind. “Don’t drop the turkey. Go on and let him in.”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god! He’s here!
Your mind went blank except for that one thought, looping on repeat. You quickly and—miraculously—set the turkey down without disaster, fumbling a little but managing to avoid catastrophe. You wiped your hands on a towel that wasn’t nearly as clean as you thought it was and practically bolted for the front door. Every nerve in your body buzzed like you’d been plugged into an outlet. After all this time. After every late-night call, every dumb meme shared at 2 a.m., every message that ended with "soon"—he was finally here.
You paused at the door, took a breath. Your reflection in the glass caught your eye—hair slightly frizzed from the kitchen steam, cheeks flushed. You straightened your shirt. Cleared your throat like that would somehow organize the chaos inside you.
Then you swung it open. And there he was.
Warm violet eyes that lit up even in the bright afternoon sun. Tousled brown hair that practically begged to be ruffled. A sleeveless tank that clung to him just enough to show off arms that had definitely spent some time at the gym—whether intentionally or not. He looked tired, but smug, the corner of his mouth curling up the moment he saw you like he’d been waiting just to see your face.
“Heyyy, pips! Took you long en—oof!”
You didn’t even let him finish. You crashed into him, arms around his neck, squeezing like you never wanted to let go again. His bag hit the ground with a thud you didn’t even hear. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of airport and his signature cologne.
He staggered back a step with a surprised grunt but caught you easily, strong arms wrapping around your waist in that old, familiar way. For a second, nothing else existed—just the two of you, in the doorway, like no time had passed at all.
"No...took you long enough, Caleb..." you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. The words were more instinct than thought, rising from a place that had waited far too long. Your hands clutched at the back of his shirt, needing the pressure, the proof he was really standing there.
“Missed me, huh?” he mumbled into your hair.
You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the smile in his voice—a soft curl of sound that wrapped around you like a blanket. And for once, your brain didn’t pull up a witty comeback or a teasing jab. Instead, there was just this quiet, overwhelming rush of everything all at once: relief, joy, disbelief. Your eyes stung, and you swallowed hard as you nodded against him, your throat too tight for anything else, your heart flipping like it was trying to break free.
“Are you really gonna make me say it?” you whispered, the words unsteady, tangled between a shaky laugh and a tear threatening to spill. His grip around you tightened, grounding you with warmth and certainty, just for a moment—but that moment said more than a thousand explanations ever could.
“Okay okay, you don't have to” he said, a quiet laugh slipping from him. "Is that turkey I smell? Im starving.”
You pull back from him, playfully tugging his arm to rush him inside. God, he’s so much heavier than you remember. Solid. Like trying to tug a tree. He barely budges, just plants his feet and gives you that familiar smile that always made it hard to stay annoyed with him for long. It was infuriating—and comforting all at once.
"Yes, and you'd better hurry up 'cause I've already eaten most of it," you joke, flashing him a sneaky grin.
Caleb rolls his eyes, scooping up his bag from the ground with an exaggerated sigh. "Uh huh, sure. Like Grandma would ever let you do that before everyone’s seated. I bet she still guards the turkey like it’s the crown jewels."
You stick your tongue out at him like you’re ten again, and he retaliates with a quick ruffle of your hair, laughing as you duck and swat at his arm. It's clumsy and playful, and you hadn’t realized you this until it was happening again. Just like old times.
As you both step into the living room, the warmth of the house seems to wrap around you tighter. The lights are softer here, golden with age and memory, and the familiar creak of the floorboards under your feet brings it all rushing back. The framed photos on the wall—some new, some ancient—remind you of every version of this house you’ve ever known.
Grandma’s voice floats in from the kitchen, warm and steady, cutting through the ambient clatter of dishes and the soft hum of something bubbling on the stove. "Caleb, can you come here? How was the flight, dear? I heard there was a storm."
The sound of her voice makes you both pause. He glances down at you, that spark still in his eyes, then shifts his gaze toward the kitchen. His smile changes, softening like butter left out on the counter, melting into something gentler. That voice had been the soundtrack to so many homecomings, to so many recoveries after bad days, and you can almost see the years of memory flicker across his face.
"Coming, Gran! It wasn't that bad." he calls back, his voice a little louder, a little more boyish now, like some small part of him had never really grown up—even after everything.
You follow close behind, the scent of roasted turkey stronger now, pulling all of you home at once. Caleb’s bag bumps against his leg as he walks, and you trail just behind. Everything felt a little more real now.
You all settle into a kind of warm, chaotic normalcy as soon as you're through the doorway. The smell of sage and butter still floats through the air, blending with the low hum of voices and clinking cutlery. Grandma, ever the general of the kitchen, waves you toward the dining table with a firm command.
"Sit, sit! Let me and Caleb handle this."
You don’t even try to argue—it’s tradition at this point. You sink into your usual spot at the table, the cushion still slightly sunken from years of use, while Caleb drops his bag near the entryway and heads straight for the serving dishes like he’s been doing this every Sunday for the last ten years.
"Plates? Got it," he mutters, already reaching for the stack, moving like he knows where everything is—which, of course, he does. Grandma trusts him with plating, and always has. Her sharp eyes track his movements with silent approval as she finishes adjusting the last of the dishes on the counter.
But what catches you off guard, even now, is how naturally he makes his way to your plate first.
"Still acting like my servant, huh?" you tease with a crooked smile, watching as he starts scooping mashed potatoes. The way he smooths them into a neat little hill like he used to when you were little makes something tighten in your chest.
He shrugs like it's obvious. "If I don't spoil you, who else is going to? Now do you want green beans, or are you still picky like you were when you were ten and used to sneak them into your napkin?"
You raise your eyebrows, feigning offense. "For your information, I'm not a child anymore. I eat green beans now and have for awhile."
He snickers, reaching for the serving spoon. "You suuure about that? You kinda act like one still."
Before you can reply, he ladles a big helping of green beans onto your plate with theatrical flair, lifting the spoon like he's about to knight you. "Do you want me feed you too, pipsqueak?" he teases, giving you a sideways glance that dares you to challenge him.
"Caleb!" you snap, glaring at him, but it’s useless—you’re already biting back a laugh. And he knows it.
He grins, smug as ever, and keeps going. "What, don't you remember when you would get lazy and beg me to feed yo—"
You grab a spoon and toss it at him with mock outrage, knowing full well it’s a futile gesture. Sure enough, he holds out his hand lazily, and the air around the spoon ripples as it freezes mid-flight—gravitational waves wrapping around it like semi invisible fingers.
"Cheater! Always using your Evol cause you know I'd get you otherwise," you tease, folding your arms and leaning back with a smirk. He laughs, flipping the spoon in mid-air and catching it effortlessly. "Oh really? You threw things at me our whole childhood and never once managed to hit me."
Grandma turns her head, not even looking, and calls out in that tone that made both of you freeze since childhood. "No evol usage at the table! I swear, I’ll take that plate right out of your hands, Caleb."
"Yes ma’am," he says with a laugh, stuffing the spoon into a drawer with exaggerated obedience.
You catch her smirking to herself before she turns back to the gravy. "Some things never change," you murmur, smiling to yourself. Caleb sits beside you now, nudging your elbow. "Seriously though, you want rolls? Or do I have to guess that too like some kind of food psychic?"
You nudge him back. "You’ve guessed wrong before."
"I’ll risk it," he says, piling one on your plate anyway.
You glance across the table, where everything feels familiar but a little fuller now, a little warmer. This moment feels suspended in amber—just long enough to make you wonder if time ever really moved forward here, or if you’d stepped right back into something you never really left behind.
"Ah, dammit. I knew I was forgetting something at the store," Grandma mumbles, walking into the dining area and pushing up her glasses with the back of her hand. Her apron is dusted with flour and her slippers scuff slightly on the floor as she stops beside the table, looking around with an expression that's equal parts frustrated and disappointed in herself.
You and Caleb glance at each other, confused, forks halfway to your mouths. "What’s wrong?" he asks, standing up halfway from his chair, voice full of concern.
She shakes her head with a sigh and waves a dish towel like a white flag. "I forgot the cranberry sauce. Didn’t want to make my own this year—too much trouble—and it completely slipped my mind. Guess we’ll just have to eat the dressing with the gravy, kiddos."
"No, no, it's fine. I’ll go grab some from the store real quick. It’s no problem," Caleb says, already pushing back from the table with a casual shrug. Before he gets far, you reach out and grab him, your fingers wrapping around his arm.
"You just got here and you're already leaving again? Caleb..." you say, dragging out his name in a playful whine, your expression softening into an exaggerated pout.
He pauses, looking down at you with that familiar, half-annoyed, half-amused glint in his eyes. Then, without missing a beat, he reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You can come with, you know. No need to beg, Miss Clingy."
You huff, pulling your hand back and rolling your eyes like it's the most ridiculous suggestion you’ve ever heard. "I am not clingy."
"You literally just clung to me," he points out, smug as ever.
You open your mouth for a retort, but the spark of excitement blooming in your chest steals your words. The idea of walking to the store with him—just the two of you, like when you were kids on snack runs or pretending to go on missions—suddenly sounds like the best possible detour.
Grandma raises a brow but doesn’t argue. She just shakes her head and mutters, "If they’re out of the jellied kind, don’t come back." You both laugh as you head toward the door. Caleb pulls it open and the cold air rushes in, biting at your cheeks. The early evening light spills across the porch, painting everything in warm gold and sharp shadow.
"Adventure time," he says with mock drama, pulling on his jacket.
"For cranberry sauce," you reply, rolling your eyes but smiling. "Truly heroic."
As you step onto the porch, your shoes thud lightly on the wood, the sound muffled by the wind picking up through the trees. Leaves skitter across the driveway like tiny dancers, and you pull your jacket tighter, tucking your hands into your sleeves. You two begin your descent down to the store, begin to fall in the smooth rhythm of memories.
Caleb almost couldn’t believe it—couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—when the door opened and you stood there in the frame. For a moment, everything had went silent. No wind, no rustling leaves, no thoughts, even. Just you. Then you moved, and it hit him like a truck.
You had launched yourself at him with that same recklessness that always made his chest ache, and before he could say a word, your arms were around his neck, your warmth pressing into his chest, your scent—God, that scent—flooding his head like smoke. Sweet. Soft. Sinking into his ribs and curling there like it belonged.
Because there you were—real. Solid. Alive and soft in his arms after all those years of glitchy video calls and messages that never felt like enough.
You’d grown since he saw you last. Taller, more confident in your skin. Your figure had filled out in ways he hadn’t been prepared for. Ways he’d imagined late at night, then immediately hated himself for. But imagining it and feeling it—your body pressing up against his, completely unaware of what you were doing to him—was something else entirely. He’d tried to will it away, the sharp pulse of heat low in his stomach, the tension making his cock tighten in his shorts, but there was nothing he could do with you clinging to him like that.
He prayed you didn’t notice. That you wouldn’t pull away with a horrified look. That you’d keep holding on just a little longer. You smelled like home. Like his favorite memories. Like the only person who’d ever made him feel tethered to something real.
And through it all, one thought kept circling like a vulture: Mine. She’s still mine.
Not officially, of course. You’d never said it. But you never had to. The way you looked at him. The way you called him when your days were bad or when you just wanted to hear his voice. The way you ran to him like this moment had been waiting for years.
He’d spent every damn day in college forcing himself through lectures he didn’t care about, social events he loathed, professors who droned on and on—just for the chance to end the day hearing your voice. A few stolen minutes. A dumb meme. A sleepy goodnight. That was his fuel. That was what got him through. He'd even pushed himself to graduate early so he could come back home to you sooner. And now here you were, warm and real and smiling at him, like the wait had been worth it.
The neighborhood is quiet, a stillness that settles in just before dinner. A few windows glow with light, silhouettes of families moving inside. You pass Mrs. Langley’s place—her plastic snowman already out, even though it’s not quite December—and wave when you see her peering out through the blinds.
"Still watching for suspicious teenagers," Caleb mutters under his breath.
"We were the suspicious teenagers," you reply, elbowing him.
The store is only a few blocks away, but with the chill in the air and the sky starting to dim, it feels like its own little journey. You both fall into an easy rhythm, footsteps crunching over patches of gravel and the occasional rogue pine needle from someone’s wreath.
"You know," Caleb says as you near the corner, "I kinda missed this. Just...us. Doing dumb errands and pretending they’re quests."
You grin at him. "They were quests. Epic ones. Remember when we tried to find marshmallow fluff and ended up at that weird corner deli where the guy insisted it only existed in Canada?"
He chuckles. "And you believed him. For, like, three years."
"Hey, he had a very trustworthy mustache."
He laughed, reaching out with that casual ease only he could pull off, and gently tugged you to his side—away from the curb, onto the inside of the sidewalk. Closer to him. Always closer.
It was instinct now. Second nature. You didn’t even question it—just moved with him like it was normal. Like it hadn’t meant anything. But it meant everything to him. That simple movement made something tight in his chest loosen, just a bit. You were still so trusting. Still his.
God, you were perfect.
Every little thing about you set him on fire. The way your arm brushed his. The sound of your voice, laughing at something stupid he said. The scent of your shampoo, warm in the cold air. The way your skin felt when it grazed his—the softness of it like silk against the calluses on his hand. He’d touched you a thousand times before—flicking your forehead, ruffling your hair, guiding you by the elbow—but now, every contact felt loaded. Dangerous.
He remembered every photo you’d sent him. The sweet ones. The silly ones. The unintentional ones where your shirt hung just low enough to stir something that clawed at his self-control. And when you were gone—miles away, unreachable—those photos became something more. He'd touched himself to them more times than he could count. His guilty ritual on the nights he couldn’t sleep.
His phone had been covered in his cum more than once, it slipping down the screen and covering your face before he promptly cleaned it off.
Maybe deep down, he'd always felt this way. Maybe he’d always been on this edge, toeing the line between brotherly affection and something far darker. But he’d never acted on it. Never let himself slip. Not when you were still just a kid, still clinging to your stuffed animals and dragging him into cartoon marathons. He was good back then. Careful. Disciplined.
He would never have dreamed of tainting you. Of letting the thoughts in his head touch you in any way. Not his mei mei. Not the one person in this world who made him feel human.
But now?
Now you were grown. Beautiful in ways that felt unfair. Confident without realizing how much power you had over him. And walking beside him like you still trusted him completely—like he wasn’t choking on the things he wanted to say to you. To do to you.
It was harder now. So much harder to keep those thoughts at bay. To pretend his feelings hadn’t shifted into something deeper. Possessive. Hungry.
He watched you glance up at him, smiling like you hadn’t just unknowingly shattered every boundary he’d built around himself. And he smiled back. Because you didn’t need to know yet. Not all of it.
This was getting harder. Every step you took in front of him chipped away at the restraint he’d been holding together with frayed thread.
He hadn’t meant to look. He wasn’t trying to focus on the way your shorts hugged your butt, or how your breasts moved when you jogged a few steps ahead to point out some forgotten corner of the neighborhood, rattling off memories with that easy smile. The way the outline of your nipples were slightly visible. But God—it was impossible not to notice.
Everything about you demanded attention. Even when you weren’t trying.
He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath through his nose. He needed a distraction. He needed something to ground him before his thoughts slipped too far again. You were right there. Laughing, turning to look at him with that light in your eyes like no time had passed. He couldn’t ruin this.
“So…” he started, forcing his tone into something light, teasing. “Pips. What’ve you been up to while I’ve been gone? Applied to any jobs yet, or still dodging adult life like it's the plague?” He flashed a smirk, hoping it came off as playful and not something else.
The effect was immediate. Your smile faltered—just a flicker—but he caught it. You slowed your steps, suddenly studying the sidewalk like it had something more interesting to say than he did. Caleb narrowed his eyes, every part of him snapping to alert beneath the surface.
He stopped walking. “Hey.” His voice came quieter now, gentler. “Did I say something wrong?”
"No! I just...I-" you stuttered, seeming to short circuit on the spot. You looked away from him and that silence did things to him. Bad things. His mind spiraled through a dozen possibilities in a second—none of them good.
“If you don’t want a job, it’s alright,” he said quickly. “You know that, right? I wasn’t trying to push. I just…I worry.”
He took a half-step closer, just enough for his shoulder to brush yours. He wanted to touch you—grab your hand, tip your chin up, look you in the eye and make you see that he didn’t care what anyone else expected of you. If you didn't want to work? Fine. He'd take care of you forever if he had to.
“I just want you to be okay, and satisfied in life” he added, softer this time. “That’s all.”
He smiled again, but there was a hint of tension behind it now. A smile that said: Tell me everything. Don’t hide from me. Not you.
You sucked in a breath—a shaky, uneven inhale that made Caleb’s chest tighten before you even spoke. He could see it in your face, the storm gathering behind your eyes.
"I know," you said quietly. "It’s just...you just finished college and came back...and now it’s my turn to leave."
Your voice cracked, and for a second, it looked like you might cry. That expression shattered him. A thousand memories crashed in at once—nights on the phone with you tucked under your blankets, video calls with pixelated smiles, your voice through earbuds as he wandered cold campuses just to hear you say his name. He hadn't even been back a full day. He’d barely held you for more than a minute. And now this?
His heart slammed once against his ribs, then kept pounding.
He stepped closer, automatically reaching for your arm, needing the contact. Needing to ground you. “What do you mean? Are you moving out?” he asked, his voice a notch too calm. “That’s fine, if anything...it means we’ll be closer.”
He knew he was lying the moment the words left his mouth. He already knew. You weren’t just moving down the street. And you weren’t telling him this like someone with casual news. There was weight in your voice.
You looked away from him.
“No, Caleb” you said, almost a whisper. “Actually, I got accepted into a few colleges. So…I’ll be off doing that. None of them are in Linkon either” You hesitated, biting your lip like you didn’t want to say the next part. “I wanted to tell you, but…I didn’t want to ruin this.”
Ruin this.
Caleb’s throat went dry. His fingers flexed against the fabric of your sleeve, knuckles whitening for half a second before he caught himself. You were leaving. You had planned this. Made this decision without him. Held it in during all those calls. All those nights. And now you were here, looking at him with that apologetic expression like he was just another person in your life who’d you have to let go.
The thought made something cold bloom behind his ribs.
He forced a smile—a tight, careful one—and exhaled slowly through his nose. “You didn’t ruin anything, pipsqueak” he said, voice gentle, soothing. “You’re allowed to chase your future. You’re smart. You deserve that.”
But underneath the surface, his mind was spiraling. Running wild. Colleges. Dorms. New friends. New guys. People who didn’t know you like he did. People who hadn’t been there. Who hadn’t earned you.
He could feel it rising in his chest. That old, sick fear. Not just of losing you—but of someone else thinking they had the right to have you. Still, he kept his expression soft. He couldn’t let you see that part of him. Not yet.
“Where?” he asked, voice steady. “Where’d you get in?”
That simple question seemed to make you feel better.
Your face brightened almost instantly, like the clouds had cracked just for you. Caleb felt the shift in his chest—an aching pressure that loosened, only to come back sharper. You started listing off colleges, rattling them off with a kind of nervous excitement that made your voice go a little higher, faster. He listened. Of course he did. Every word was memorized before it even left your mouth.
You were glowing.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled too, soft and small, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes—but you didn’t notice. You were too caught up in the moment. Too focused on a future without him directly in it.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, reaching out to ruffle your hair like he used to. It was familiar. Innocent. A reflex built from years of habits. And you beamed at him like it meant everything. "You're gonna kill it. I bet you'll be top of your class too."
Then you kept walking, humming some tune under your breath, talking about dorms and classes and new cities you couldn’t wait to explore. Caleb stayed beside you, nodding, occasionally answering—but his smile began to slip, bit by bit.
His mind turned darker with every step.
Because you were excited. Too excited. And he knew you—he knew how easily you trusted people. How quickly you made friends. You’d get swept up in it. In the freedom. In the noise. You’d meet people who didn’t deserve you. Frat boys with perfect teeth and snake-oil charm, the kind who’d say just enough to make you feel seen. The kind who’d hand you a drink and smile too long while you weren’t looking.
He clenched his fist in his pocket.
You wouldn’t see it. You never did. You never noticed danger until it was too close. And Caleb had always been there to keep it away. Always. But if you left—if you were hours away, miles away—how could he protect you? How could he stop them?
You kept talking, laughing now, completely unaware of the storm churning in his head. Every step brought you closer to the store. Every word made it worse.
You two kept walking, but time felt warped. The distance from your front porch to the corner store couldn’t have been more than a few blocks, but with you beside him—talking, laughing, unknowingly unraveling him—it stretched out like a lifetime.
Then, finally, the corner store came into view, glowing weakly under the streetlight like some kind of checkpoint in a dream. “Oh! Caleb, we’re here! Fucking finally, that walk felt like forever,” you sighed, reaching for the door without hesitation.
“Let me get it,” he said quickly, stepping in front of you with more urgency than he meant to show. He caught the handle and pulled the door open, making sure to keep his body between you and the cold metal.
You smiled—wide, grateful, familiar.
That smile.
He felt his stomach twist. He used to think seeing you smile was the best feeling in the world. Now, it was something worse. Addictive. He couldn’t bear the idea of being without it. Of some stranger making you smile that way while he sat miles away, wondering if you'd already forgotten the sound of his voice.
You walked in first, brushing past him, your scent trailing behind like bait on a hook. He followed, jaw tight, hands in his pockets to hide the tension crawling up his arms.
The store was warm and overly bright. Too many fluorescents buzzing above. It smelled like stale coffee, processed sugar, and years of wear.
You made your way through the aisles like it was a treasure hunt, pointing out snacks you used to buy as kids, holding up a bag of off-brand cereal with a grin. Caleb stayed close behind, letting you lead, answering only with soft hums or low chuckles. His mind wasn’t here—it was on the ticking clock, on how little time he had left with you.
Then you spotted it. “Cranberry sauce!” you declared triumphantly, holding up the can like you’d just won a prize. You turned to him, expectant. “Grandma said jellied, right?”
He nodded, voice dry. “With the ridges from the can. Non-negotiable.”
You headed toward the register, humming, blissfully unaware that he was watching every move you made like he needed to memorize it. At the counter, you fished around in your pockets, frowning. “Shit. I forgot my wallet.”
Caleb didn’t even hesitate. He was already pulling out his card.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, smoothly sliding it across to the cashier. “I’ve got it.”
You gave him a sheepish smile. “You’re gonna start charging me interest soon for all the money I owe you.” He didn’t respond. Just watched you laugh as the scanner beeped and the bag was handed over.
If you left—if you went away to college, to a new city, to some other life—who would be there to open your doors? To cover for you when you forgot things? To protect you from people who wouldn’t know how fragile and precious you really were?
You thanked him with that same smile again. And it hit him all over: He couldn’t lose you. Not to distance. Not to time. And especially not to someone else.
Caleb started plotting the moment the store door shut behind you.
The bell jingled, the cool air hit your skin, and he shifted gears without a word. He moved faster now—just a little at first, but enough to make the difference clear. His stride lengthened, purpose behind every step. You didn’t notice right away. You were still talking, still laughing softly about the cranberry sauce like everything was normal.
But then your steps slowed.
“Hey…slow down…” you panted behind him, breath catching. He felt your hand grab at the edge of his jacket. You were trying to keep up. "You're still so hard to keep up with, you know that?"
He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin. “What? Still a slowpoke after all these years?” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes this time. You were winded. Tired. That’s what he wanted.
No…not wanted. Needed.
You already couldn’t outrun him if you tried—he knew that—but this made it easier. Less fight. Exhaustion would do the work for him. A tired body was a weak body. A dependent one. He wasn’t going to hurt you. Never that. But if you stayed too energized, too alert when he pounced, you might actually get a few hits on him if you fought back. And he couldn’t allow that. Not when the future he so desperately wanted with you was already slipping away from him like smoke through fingers.
He kept going for another block, keeping the pace steady but relentless. He watched you in the corner of his vision—the way your breathing grew uneven, the way your steps started to lag. And then, finally, the telltale sheen of sweat began to form just beneath your hairline.
Now. He slowed, just enough to make it feel like a choice. As you both approached the old bridge that curved gently over the creek, he pointed toward it with a casual nod.
“Want a break?” he asked, voice easy, like this was spontaneous. “Maybe our carvings are still there. Let’s check.”
He said it with a warmth he didn’t feel. But you didn’t catch that. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling faster than usual. You were tired. Perfectly tired.
He gestured again toward the bridge, a little more insistently this time. “Come on,” he added. “For old time’s sake.” And beneath the surface of his calm voice and boyish grin, his mind was ticking like a metronome.
“Hah…a-alright, but only for a few minutes…hah—Grandma’ll be pissed if we take too long…”
And his mind only got darker as you stepped forward, your gaze flicking down to the path under the bridge. You hesitated just slightly, just enough to show you still remembered the place. The old stonework, the arching curve, the colorful graffiti that never washed away.
He watched you go, every step of yours feeling like a countdown in his chest. God. Was he really doing this? Was forcing himself on you really the answer? He shouldn't. He knew that. He knew that.
But knowing meant nothing right now—not with your hair swaying in the breeze, not with your voice still echoing in his ears, not with the thought of you slipping out of this city and into someone else’s world without him.
There had to be other ways. Kinder ways. Slower, safer paths.
But his mind didn’t want them. His heart didn’t care. He’d waited too long, been good for too long. Always the patient one. The supportive one. The safe place. The one you could always run to, but never the one you planned on staying with.
And now you were leaving.
The image seared into his brain: you laughing in someone else’s dorm, lying in someone else’s bed, walking hand in hand with someone who hadn’t seen you in your worst moments and held you through them. The idea hollowed him out.
So no. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn't. He had to stake his claim. He was terrified even if he did things the "right" way, you'd never reciprocate how he really felt. That he'd be stuck simply playing the role of just your brother forever.
This wasn’t just about love anymore. It was selfish. Real. A part of him had always known it would come to this. That someday, he'd stop being the version of himself you'd grown up with and become something else—something much darker.
He needed to make it clear that he wanted to be way more than just your brother.
He followed you down the slope under the bridge, his steps slow and deliberate, eyes locked on your back. He remembered carving your initials there when you were both younger, yours nested just above his. A forever etched in stone before either of you even knew what it meant.
Now, more than ever, he wanted to make that real.
“Wow, this was so long ago. I can’t believe it still looks so brand new,” you said, your voice low with wonder as your fingers brushed over the rough stone. The initials carved all those years ago were still there, yours above his, like they were always meant to be that way.
“I know,” Caleb murmured. “Almost like it was yesterday.” He stepped in behind you, silent until the last second, and then closed the space between your bodies. Pressed himself gently—deliberately—against you.
You gasped at the sudden contact, instinctively tensing, your shoulders rising. You didn’t say anything. But you didn’t move away either. He didn’t need words. He could feel the nerves rolling off you in quiet waves. The stiffness in your spine. The way your fingers froze on the stone. He hated how much he loved it. That tension. That breathless stillness. It wasn’t right, and he knew it—but it filled something hollow inside him. Something that had ached for too long.
He reveled in it.
It wasn’t just about closeness. It was about control. The power to pull you back to him no matter how far you drifted. To be the one you turned to when everything else felt uncertain.
He remembered when you were kids—how easily he could get into your head. A well-timed ghost story, a flicker of shadow near the window, and you'd be climbing into his bed before midnight, begging him to stay close. You’d always trusted him, even when he was the one who made you afraid.
And now, here you were again. Standing at the edge of the past, nervous and quiet, while he stood behind you like a shadow. He shouldn’t want to break you just to be the one who puts you back together.
But some part of him did. And he wasn’t sure he could keep pretending otherwise. Caleb’s hand moved to your waist slowly, like the movement itself had been rehearsed a thousand times in his head. His fingers settled lightly, but firmly, possessive in their stillness. You stiffened under the touch.
You felt so small compared to him.
So easily held. So easily overpowered.
And he knew it.
The realization hit him hard, low in his gut—not just the physical disparity between you two, but the power of it. You shivered at the contact, flinching just enough for him to feel the jolt travel through your body.
“C-Caleb…” your voice came out in a whisper, thin and uncertain.
You tried to recover quickly, clutching the grocery bag like a shield. “We should head back to Grandma… she’s probably wondering what’s taking so long.” You turned and stepped forward, trying to slip past him. But he wasn’t ready to let go. His hand closed gently but firmly around your wrist, halting your movement. “Hey…wait,” he said, voice barely more than a breath.
He felt the tremor run through you. A small, involuntary shiver that pulsed against his palm. Caleb's heart raced as he heard the words spill from your lips, the familiar sound of your voice laced with a combination of confusion and frustration.
"Caleb, seriously. What's up with you? You're acting so different...." Your struggle against his hold only fueled the fire burning within him. He sighed inwardly, a sound that escaped his lips as a resigned exhalation. Of course, you were going to make this difficult. This was never going to be easy.
With a swift and determined motion, he yanked the bag from your grasp, the abrupt movement causing it to hit the ground with a sharp, metallic clang that echoed through the bridge. "Caleb!" Your voice rang out, a yelp of surprise and anger mingling in a way that sent a thrill through his veins. He spun you around with a force that left you breathless, your back pressing firmly against the cold, unyielding stone wall. The rough texture of the ancient stones bit into your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face.
Caleb's knee pressed firmly between your legs, forcing them slightly apart. "I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Just let this happen. Listen to your gege." The words were a command, a plea, a promise all rolled into one.
And then, before you could react, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss hard and intense, more passionate than he had initially intended. The taste of you, the feel of your body against his, it was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't resist. His hands, once restrained, now gripped you tightly, holding you in place as if you were a prize he had long sought to claim.
You struggled beneath his kiss, your body squirming against the unyielding stone wall, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. As Caleb finally pulled back, a long, glistening string of saliva stretched between your lips. Your face was flushed, a vivid heat that spread from your cheeks to the roots of your hair, and your chest heaved with each wild pant, your eyes wide.
The sight of you, so flushed and flustered, spurred Caleb on. He could feel his cock hardening in his shorts, a throbbing ache that demanded release. "Stop please...we c-can't do this," you pleaded, your voice a breathless whisper, your eyes darting wildly as you tried to push him away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest. Your struggle was futile, and Caleb knew it.
Suddenly, gravitational waves rippled around your body, a shimmering distortion that froze you in place, rendering you unable to move. Caleb's lips curled into a smirk as he watched you, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying. "I can't stop," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "And I won't lie and say I'm sorry. Cause I'm not."
He sighed, a sound that was equal parts resignation and anticipation, and then his lips were on your neck, trailing hot, wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour, his touch both possessive and tender. "You don't want this now," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "but I promise it'll feel good if you stop struggling. I've always taken good care of you haven't I?."
"Caleb, I'm serious!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with panic as you felt his fingers deftly unbutton your jean shorts, the zipper sliding down with a harsh rasp. He tugged at the waistband, pulling both your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, the fabric catching on your ankles, rendering you even more helpless. The gravitational pull of his Evol held you firmly in place, your feet rooted to the ground, your struggles futile against the almost invisible force.
Caleb's breath hitched as your pristine, glistening pussy was revealed to him, a sight that made his heart race and his mouth water. He had never dared to look for so long, always averting his gaze during your shared baths as children, a sense of shame and respect for your innocence keeping him in check. But now, that moral compass had vanished, leaving only raw, unbridled desire.
"So am I." The words escaped his lips in a breathless whisper, a sound filled with awe and hunger. He crouched down, his eyes locked onto your exposed flesh, and then his tongue was on you, leaving a wet, hot streak against your cunt. You whimpered and moaned, the sound a mix of pleasure and protest, your body betraying you as it responded to his touch.
Caleb's tongue delved deeper, forcing your lips apart with a relentless, greedy motion. He sucked and lapped at you with the fervor of a starving dog, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your head fell back against the wall, a moan escaping your lips, a sound that was both a plea and a cry. "Ah...c-caleb....stop...!" You moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, but your body arched towards him, a silent invitation that he was more than willing to accept.
Caleb reveled in the sounds of your moans, a sound of pleasure that he had never thought he would hear from you, especially not in this way. The raw, unbridled sounds were intoxicating. Addicting. He was the first and only man to hear your sweet, desperate sounds, and the knowledge filled him with a primal satisfaction. The thought that he would also be the first and only man to take your virginity, right here under this bridge, sent a thrill through his body, making his cock thicken even harder.
“Ah…ah…ahh…agh….”
As he continued to lap at you with fervent, greedy strokes, the taste of you spreading across his taste buds, he felt your cunt pulsing over his tongue. You were already close, he could tell, and the realization spurred him on. He couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, not until you were completely undone, your body squirming and arching as he claimed you with his mouth.
Opening his eyes to meet your gaze, he watched as you promptly looked away, a flush spreading across your cheeks. Your gasps and moans filled the air, a breathless symphony that only served to fuel his desire. "Ah...! Mgh! Caleb! Stop! Im gonna..." You gasped, your voice failing as the first waves of your orgasm crashed over you, your body clenching around his tongue in a rhythmic, involuntary dance. You involuntarily grind your lower body against his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure overtakes you.
Caleb's heart raced as he tasted the remnants of your release on his tongue, felt the way your body responded to his touch, and he knew that this was just the beginning. He was far from done with you, and he intended to explore every inch of your body, to draw out every moan and gasp, until you were utterly spent and satiated beneath him.
Caleb watches as you shakily calm down from your high, likely still processing the overwhelming reality that Caleb, of all people, just gave you your first orgasm. Your mind races, trying to reconcile the intensity of what just happened with the familiarity of your relationship. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and the weight of the situation leaves you looking dazed.
Caleb notices your struggle, his heart clenching as he sees the tears rolling down your face. You begin to dissociate, your body trembling as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions. "Hey hey, you're okay, baby. I'm almost done, okay?" he says, finally releasing you from the clutches of his evol. The sudden freedom catches you off guard, and you nearly fall to the gravel in tears.
Caleb is quick to catch you, his arms wrapping around you in a surprising embrace. You find yourself held against him, his warmth seeping into your chilled skin. "Let go of me...why are you doing this? I thought we were-" You manage to get out, your voice shaking with a mix of confusion and betrayal. But the sentence remains unfinished, hanging in the air as you struggle against him.
Caleb coos softly, his voice a mix of firmness and gentleness as he wrestles you to the ground. "You're adorable when you struggle. But it won't get you anywhere. Remember when we'd wrestle as kids? I always won" he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You cry out, "Stop! Stop!" but your pleas fall on deaf ears.
"Shh, not so loud. Though I doubt anyone's crossing this old bridge," Caleb responds, his tone laced with a dangerous calm.
He promptly climbs on top of you, holding your wrists above your head as you continue to struggle beneath him. The weight of his body pins you down, and you can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you.
The gravel bites into your ass and thighs as Caleb presses most of his body weight against you, his strength and dominance overwhelming. He leans down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that leaves no room for resistance. This time, you don't fight him; instead, you shakily open your mouth, allowing his tongue to explore yours with a hunger that matches his actions. The kiss deepens, a dance of desire and surrender that leaves you breathless and trembling beneath him.
As he pulls away, you look up at him, lashes wet with tears. This is the most beautiful you've ever looked to him. "Don't Caleb, please. Please. You can still stop. I won't say anything to Grandma..." Your voice is a whisper, a plea laced with desperation and a glimmer of hope that he might relent.
Caleb sighs, a sound that is both resigned and determined. He hikes up your jacket and shirt, his movements deliberate and unhurried, exposing your breasts to the cool air. Your sensitive buds are fully revealed, hard and begging for attention. "You still don't get it, do you? I don't want to just be your family. If anything, I want to be a different kind of family." His words are a statement, a declaration of his intentions that leave no room for misunderstanding. What don't you understand? Was making you cum with his tongue not a clear message?
Very well then. He'd make you understand.
You blink tearfully, your voice trembling as you speak. "I understand that you love me...a-and care about me. Right?" The words hang in the air, a plea for reassurance amidst the chaos of your emotions.
Caleb nods, his expression tender. Of course he loved you. He loved you more than words could ever express. That was the whole reason he was doing this—to prove that he was the only man who should ever be inside you, that no one knew you better than him. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, but it was tinged with a hint of something darker.
He reached for the hem of his shorts, his movements slow and deliberate. "I do. So so much. Its why this needs to happen. You'll understand very soon." His voice was low, a promise laced with a dangerous edge.
You watched him pull down the rest of his shorts, your heart racing as panic surged through you. "T-then this shouldn't happen. You don't do this to people you love. You don't rape them!" Your voice was a desperate cry, a plea for him to see reason, to stop before it was too late.
Caleb sighed, a sound that was both resigned and patient. He pulled his hardened cock free from his boxers, the sight of it making you suck in a sharp breath, your panting growing more rapid and shallow. He lined himself up against your entrance, beginning to rub his tip against your wet hole. "No. You've got it all wrong. This is good for you. I'll be very gentle, just hold still, okay?"
"Caleb! Cale-." Your voice caught in your throat as a sharp pain radiated through you. Caleb groaned as his cock slipped past the first bit of your tight walls, feeling you tense underneath him from the pain. He was much larger than average, so it was going to be a bit of work, but god if you didn't already feel amazing. He felt almost sorry that he had to do it this way.
His warmth invades you, stretching your wetness to its limit. You dig your nails into his back, leaving half-moons in his skin. "It h-hurts," you whimper, but he only whispers in your ear, "You're doing so good, just a little more." You bite your lip, tasting copper as he forces himself another inch inside. "It'll feel good soon," he promises, but all you can focus on is the pain.
You cry out in agony, your nails digging into him even harder as he gently pushed forward again. The feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in was almost overwhelming. "Scratch me, bite me, yell if you need to, okay? You're doing so good, f-fuck."
His heart nearly bursts as you begin to use your hands to try and pull him closer, clearly desperate to have something to ground you within all the pain. He was always your source of comfort, even now that he was quite literally forcing himself inside you. He found it adorable. He was more than happy to be your anchor as he pushed deeper, and deeper into your wet walls. You were in more tears now, shaking beneath him as he broke the last bit of your innocence, staking his claim on you.
You were finally, utterly all his.
"Hah...ah...Caleb..." you cried, trying desperately to blink away the tears. "Baby, don't cry, I'm right here. You're taking me so well, I'm already in," Caleb cooed, leaning his forehead against yours as he pulled back out slightly and pushed back in. "You feel so good, better than I ever imagined."
No words came out, only moans and groans as he reached the back of your walls, pushing against that spongy part inside you. The sensation was intense, and he could feel every inch of you clenching around him, your body adjusting to his size. Caleb's pleasure was building with each thrust, the mix of your wetness and the tight grip of your body driving him wild.
Soon, your moans of pain began to transform into moans of pleasure, and it became easier for Caleb to pump in and out of you, your wetness growing more and more, much to his delight. Caleb leaned down for another kiss, your breaths mingling as you panted and whined against him. "Feels so...oh...fuck!" Your face was flushed, and your body was covered in a layer of gravel and sweat.
"Feels good?" he panted, anchoring his hands on either side of your head. "Y-yes..." you breathed, clutching onto his shirt now. Yes, just what he wanted to hear. "Good girl, see what happens when you listen to Caleb and don't fight it?" You sniffled, nodding your head.
"H-hold me please." You were clearly breaking down at this point and just wanted comfort from the person you could always run to.
Caleb obliged, picking you up from the gravel and shifting you both so you were sitting on his lap. A bit advanced for an ex virgin, but you didn't seem to mind, already clutching onto him and sobbing as he held you close, bouncing you up and down on his cock. The new angle allowed him to hit even deeper, and he could feel every inch of you gripping him tightly. Caleb's own pleasure was building, the sight of you so vulnerable and needy pushing him closer to the edge.
"F-fuck I love you. So so much," Caleb moaned, his voice husky with emotion and exertion as he held you tightly against him. "I did this cause I love you." His body was slick with sweat, and his heart pounded in his chest as he felt your tight, wet walls clenching around his cock with each movement. "Mghm! I-I..." you sobbed, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back, leaving even more angry red marks of your desperation.
Caleb's hips moved in a steady, relentless rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, sucking sound. He could feel every inch of you, your body yielding to him completely. "I'm not going to pull out...you know what that means, don't you?" he whispered, his voice low. You gripped him tighter, your body tensing as you understood the implications. He felt you nod your head against his shoulder, a shiver running through your frame.
"I'm gonna cum in this sweet little pussy, and you'll have my baby won't you? No more college. No more leaving. Okay?" Caleb's words were a promise more than a question. You cried out, your body shaking and shivering in his arms as you realized the weight of his words. Not like you had much choice anyway. He would cum as many times in you as he had to to ensure you had no way to get away from him.
"N-no please Caleb don-...fuck...I-i'm cumming...!" You pant, your body convulsing as you grind your hips against him, finally breaking and orgasming once more. Caleb feels you clench and grind on him, which only pushes him over the edge. He holds your hips firmly in place as he groans, slamming into you with a final, powerful thrust, painting your insides a creamy white as his cock throbs inside you. His release is intense, his body shuddering with the force of it.
He had come this far, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. You whine and attempt to get off him as he fills you, but he quickly catches your lips in another kiss, silencing your protests. He only lets you go once he's sure he's filled you with every last drop. Your panting is ragged when you yank away from his lips, your body shaking and in full-blown hysteria now. "No! Fuck! How could you? If I get pregnant..." you sob, your tears wetting his shoulder.
"Shhh, it's okay. I'll take care of everything like I always have. You know that, don't you? Don't cry," Caleb soothes, his voice a low murmur against your ear. He holds you tightly, his arms wrapped around you protectively, as if to shield you from the world and the consequences of what just happened. His cock is still hard inside you, pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes, the light in them fragile and trembling. Your voice came out in a whisper, cracked and raw.
“I’m scared Caleb…I’m scared.”
And just like that, the years seemed to vanish. For a moment, it wasn’t two people on the cusp of something broken and strange—it was you and him again, younger, smaller, in a dim bedroom lit by nightlights and half-lidded promises. You, clinging to him after a nightmare. Him, wrapping you in a blanket and whispering stories until your breathing slowed.
That same helpless need was in your eyes now.
And it shattered him.
If he could bottle this moment—your trembling lips, the way your voice reached for him, the unspoken request for comfort—he would. He’d keep it locked inside forever. A sacred thing. Proof that you still needed him.
He leaned in, slow and deliberate, and pressed soft kisses to the tears as they slid down your cheeks. One. Then another. His hands were gentle now, holding your face like it might fall apart in his palms. And maybe it already had.
He broke you.
And now he’d pick up the pieces.
He knew this wasn’t going to be simple. This shift between what you were and what he wanted you to become—between adopted siblings and a whole new family entirely—it wasn’t going to be clean. It would be messy. Awkward. Painful. But if it meant you staying with him… if it meant you saw him the way he saw you…he’d walk through fire for it.
He’d be everything you needed. Brother. Protector. Lover. Home.
Just as long as you never left.
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Gege’s here. I always will be.”
He held you until the hysteria passed—until your sobs turned to sniffles, and your body stopped shaking in his arms. Your fingers curled weakly into his shirt as your breathing finally slowed, and you just stayed there, trembling, spent, but no longer spiraling.
Caleb didn’t say anything for a while. He just held you close, one hand running gently down your back, anchoring you. He’d never felt more needed. You let yourself fall apart in front of him and that meant everything.
When your body started to shift with discomfort, he slowly helped you slide off of his cock, moving carefully and wordlessly as he watched his cum slide out of your cunt with a deep sense of satisfaction. He adjusted your clothes with quiet, focused hands—nothing hurried, nothing inappropriate.
Still, some of his cum lingered on your thigh—unavoidable, really. You whined, flustered and embarrassed, and tried to brush it away.
“God, Caleb, this is so gross…”
He offered a low chuckle, trying to ease the tension. “I’ll help. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
And he did. With a napkin from his jacket pocket, and gentle movements, he helped you clean up. Part of him felt guilty for the mess. But the other part—the louder part—felt something close to elation. You hadn’t pushed him away. You weren't trying to run even after he buttoned your shorts back up and tied your shoe that had come undone in the chaos.
When you finally tried to walk, you winced, just barely, but he noticed. Caleb was instantly beside you, arm wrapping around your waist. “No, no” he said, his voice low and final. “You’re not walking.”
“What? Caleb—no, I can—”
But he was already moving, slipping one strong arm under your legs and hauling you up against his chest with effortless strength. His other hand clutched the grocery bag, the corner of the can of cranberry sauce pressing against the thin plastic as it swung at his side. You let out a startled gasp, cheeks flushing as your arms clung to him instinctively. “I said I’ve got you,” he murmured, not looking for permission anymore.
And with you cradled against him, the air cool and quiet around you, Caleb began the walk home—slow and possessively content.
Neither of you said much on the walk back. The silence was fragile. Like speaking would crack it wide open and let too much in. You let out the occasional sniffle, face buried against Caleb’s shoulder, your arms looped loosely around his neck. Your fingers clutched him tighter every now and then, like your body remembered fear even if your voice had gone quiet.
Caleb didn’t ask what you were thinking, though the ache to know gnawed at him. He didn’t just want to be the cause of your unraveling—he wanted to be your comfort too. Your constant. The arms you trusted, the presence you clung to when the world didn’t make sense. But he knew better than to push.
You needed time to process what happened. To understand what had shifted. Because things had changed—indefinitely. And whether you wanted to admit it yet or not, the line between what you were and what you’d become had been crossed.
By the time you reached the porch, the sun had deepened. The cool air clung to your clothes and the scent of roasted herbs still drifted faintly through the windows. Caleb adjusted his hold on you, careful, almost reverent, as he cradled you with one arm and held the bag of cranberry sauce in the other.
Just as he stepped onto the welcome mat, the door swung open. Grandma stood there, apron still on, her expression unreadable for a half-second before her eyes did a quick scan—your flushed face, his tense jaw, the plastic bag hanging from his hand. Probably wondering why Caleb was carrying you, but likely chalking it up to your feet hurting and Caleb spoiling you like he always did. Instead of mentioning it, she smiled.
"Figured you took me seriously when I said don’t come back if it’s not jellied," she said, her voice breezy. "Hurry now, I’ll warm up the food."
Caleb gently set you down on your feet, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary before slipping away. You wobbled slightly but steadied yourself. He stood close, watching your face for the smallest sign that you might start talking about what happened.
But you only nodded, eyes lowered, and followed your grandmother back inside.
And just like that, the house swallowed you both again. Familiar. But forever altered.
Later that night, the house was quiet. The stillness made your thoughts louder. You lay curled beneath the covers, facing the wall, pretending to sleep. Your breathing was even, your body still, but inside your chest, your heart was racing. You heard the soft creak of your bedroom door as it eased open.
Footsteps.
You felt heat rise—not just from embarrassment or nerves, but from the confusion threading itself tighter around your thoughts. An aching heat begin to spread between your legs. The lines had blurred. You were so so confused now. Caleb had always been safety, steadiness. Family. But now...now you didn’t know what he was.
You had thought about what happened under the bridge all day, the painful ache between your legs not letting you push it to the back of your mind. You never that you'd think of him that way, much less lose that innocent boyish image you'd always had of him. Your virginity was gone, taken by Caleb of all people...
Caleb had given you your space, but it was clear you couldn't avoid him forever.
The blanket lifted slightly. You flinched at the touch. “C’mon,” he murmured. “I know when you’re actually asleep, pipsqueak.”
He sat down on the edge of your bed with the weight of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. His fingers reached out and gently combed through your hair, like he used to when you’d cry after nightmares. The rhythm was the same, but the air between you had changed. Thick with everything unspoken.
You opened your eyes. Just barely. But said nothing. He didn’t stop. Just kept stroking your hair, watching you quietly in the dim light spilling in from the hallway.
“You understand now, don’t you?” he said after a long silence. His voice was low. “I did it for you. Everything I’ve ever done was for you. Out of love.”
He paused. “Even if things are hard at first… we’ll find our way back. We’ll find happiness again in our own way. I know it. I'll be whatever you need me to be if it makes this all easier for you. But I can't go back to pretending I don't want more.”
“Caleb…I…” You paused, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a breath. You didn’t know what to say. Every word felt like a landmine. "What you did was awful...you really hurt me."
He was getting in your head, and it scared you. The way he looked at you now. The way his voice dropped when he spoke to you like the world narrowed down to just this. Just the two of you.
These new feelings—confusing, tangled, impossible—wrapped tight around your chest. They felt wrong. They had to be wrong. Rape couldn't mean love could it? But you wanted to trust him. You always had. And some part of you still did. And part of you just wanted to feel safe again. Wanted him to make it safe again.
Caleb leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours. His breath mingled with yours, warm and steady. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You hoped he couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t feel how much you were shaking beneath the surface.
You could feel the heat of him—his closeness. His steadiness. “I know,” he whispered, voice low, threading into your bones. “But you can’t convince me you hate me with every fiber of your being".
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume you. "No...its not hate. I don’t know what this is..." you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of confusion and fear. "I just know I don’t want to lose you. I don't want to lose the Caleb I've always known."
Caleb's response was a soothing murmur, a promise that cut through the chaos in your mind. "You won’t. Don't be silly" he assured you, his voice steady. "We're just becoming closer than before."
There was a moment of stillness, a pause where the weight of his words hung in the air, offering a sense of security that you desperately needed. Then, his voice dropped into a whisper, a secret shared between just the two of you. "If you're not too sore, I'd like to make it up to you. We can't make too much noise though or Grandma will hear us."
You swallowed, the reality of your situation sinking in. The thought of being discovered sent a shiver of apprehension through you, but also a creeping heat across your cheeks. "You’ll be good and quiet, won’t you?" he asked, his tone playful with an edge of command.
You nodded without thinking, your throat too tight to speak. “Yes...,” you breathed, barely audible, like saying his name softly would distract you from the turmoil in your head. His lips met yours with a quiet certainty—soft at first, but gradually grew in intensity. The warmth of his mouth sent a slow ache curling down your spine. His tongue moved with careful intent, easing your lips apart, slipping past them with a kind of reverence that made your breath catch.
His hands framed your face like something precious, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, anchoring you even as the world narrowed to the heat between you. You shivered—not from the cold, but from the sheer tenderness of it. The way he touched you wasn’t rushed. It was like he already knew what you needed.
And maybe he did. Caleb always knew. You just wanted to feel safe. Caleb knew what was best. Maybe it was better this way...
As the night stretched on, everything blurred—the taste of him, the sound of your name murmured like a promise, the way sweat clung to your skin as your bodies clung to each other. You knew, deep down, things had shifted.
“Just the tip,” you whispered, breath shaky, thighs already falling open for him.
Caleb’s lips curved against your jaw, his cock heavy between your legs. “Just the tip,” he repeated smoothly, like he was agreeing to something small and harmless. “I’ll make it sweet for you.”
The blunt head pressed into you, sliding past your folds, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp. Caleb groaned low, savoring the feel of your walls fluttering around him.
“God, even the tip and you’re already squeezing me. You love this too much,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against your cheek.
You whined, nails raking lightly down his shoulders. “It’s… it’s supposed to be just—”
“I know,” he cut in gently, rocking his hips forward. Another inch sank in, dragging a moan from both of you. His hand slid down to your thigh, thumb stroking tenderly as he pushed deeper, slow enough for you to melt under him. “But sweetheart… you’re taking me so well. Look at you, already dripping for me.”
Your back arched, the stretch sharp but intoxicating, your body opening up to him with each roll of his hips.
“See?” Caleb murmured, voice dark with praise. “Your body’s begging for all of me. Not just the tip. You want every inch, don’t you?”
The only answer you managed was a broken moan, thighs trembling around his waist. That was all the permission he needed. He sank in the rest of the way, bottoming out with a groan that rattled through his chest.
“Fuck, perfect,” he breathed, kissing your temple like he hadn’t just broken the promise. “I can’t hold back from you. Not when you take me this deep.”
He set a steady rhythm, every thrust hitting deeper, coaxing cries from your lips until your protests were nothing but gasps of his name. His hand caught your jaw, turning your face so your dazed eyes met his.
“Look at you,” he whispered, tender and wicked all at once. “I told you it would feel better this way. You never really wanted me to stop, did you?”
Your body answered for you, clenching around him, spilling slick down his length. Caleb groaned, thrusting harder, faster, corrupting every ounce of your restraint.
“Good,” he coaxed, kissing you hard as he drove into you. “Give in to me. Take it all. You’re mine, and you’ll never want ‘just the tip’ again.”
You thought you were cute. Sassy little smiles, crossing your legs slowly in that tight-ass dress, ignoring Caleb's warnings all evening like he wouldn't do something about it.
You should’ve known better.
Now you’re straddling him in the driver’s seat of his parked car—your dress bunched up around your waist, tits spilling from your bra, and his thick cock buried inside you. The windows are fogged, the streetlamp outside barely lighting the scene of your punishment.
And Caleb?
He’s got you locked in a brutal chokehold, your face pressed into the crook of his arm while he fucks up into you like he’s trying to split you open.
“Thought you were real fuckin’ funny tonight,” he snarls against your jaw, teeth grazing skin as he slams into you again, and again, and again. “Now look at you. Can’t even talk.”
You can’t. Not with how tight his arm is, not with how deep he’s hitting—how hard his cock is pounding against your cervix like it’s punishing you for every bratty thing you said earlier.
His hand sneaks between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and grinding in tight, merciless circles.
“Your pussy’s so wet, baby,” Caleb growls. “You like being manhandled like this? You like knowing anyone could walk by this car and see you getting used like a fucktoy?”
You moan—choked and broken—and he just laughs, low and mean, like he already knows the answer.
“Pathetic little thing,” he whispers, cock twitching inside you. “You were begging for it. All that mouth just so I’d fuck the attitude out of you.”
And that’s what he’s doing.
The car is rocking under the weight of him. You’re limp in his lap, arms barely working, eyes rolling back as the pressure around your neck blurs your vision in the best way. You can’t even lift your head. You’re drooling on his shoulder. His name comes out in pitiful whimpers.
“That’s it,” he hisses. “So cockdrunk you can’t even pretend you hate it.”
You cum with a shudder—legs locking up, your cunt clenching around him so tight he snarls and pins you down harder, arm flexing as he fucks you through it.
You’re gasping, twitching, a mess on top of him.
Caleb’s thrusts get even rougher. Meaner. His voice cracks.
“Gonna fill you up,” he pants against your cheek. “Gonna fuck a bratty baby full of my cum so she can remember who she belongs to.”
You try to respond—but all you get out is a broken, needy sob before he slams into you one final time and spills everything inside your overstimulated, aching pussy.
His cum’s so hot you swear it burns. It floods you—deep, messy, thick—and you feel it drip down as you pulse around him helplessly.
He keeps you there, stuffed full on his lap, panting and twitching. His arm still around your neck—not choking now, just holding. Keeping you right where he wants you.
And then?
He grins.
“You're not putting your panties back on,” he says, voice all low and smug. “You're gonna sit there, leaking my cum down your thighs while I drive you home. And if you even think about mouthing off again?”
His fingers trail between your legs, scooping up the slick mess of you both, then shoving it right back inside with a curl of his digits.
“Aw, what’s the matter, baby?” Caleb’s voice is low and teasing, words brushing the shell of your ear as his hips grind into yours again, “Too dumb to talk now?”
You can’t answer him. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.
Your hands are weakly clutching at the sheets, knuckles pale. Drool slides down your chin as your head tips back, lips parted around a broken moan. He’s already made you cum twice, and he’s still going—slow and deep, pushing into your spent, sensitive cunt like he owns it. And maybe he does.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, one hand sliding around your throat while the other keeps your legs spread, pinned up by his forearm, “You take it so well. Even when your brain’s all mushy, this pussy’s still clenching like she knows who she belongs to.”
Your legs tremble violently. His cock drags against every spot inside you that makes your stomach tighten and your thoughts evaporate. Your back arches but he holds you down easily—one hand on your throat, the other gripping your thigh, thick fingers pressing bruises into your skin.
He’s looking down at you like a man obsessed—eyes wild, hair falling over his face as sweat drips down his temple. And the way he smirks when he sees your eyes roll back?
“Fucked dumb already? But I’m not even done.”
His voice is a velvet growl. “You wanted it rough, remember?”
You let out a sob that’s half-plea, half-moan.
“Use your words, sweetheart. You were so good at begging earlier—‘please Caleb, harder Caleb’—what happened to that mouth?”
Your answer is a desperate whine as another orgasm crashes over you, wracking your body like a wave. You’re twitching under him now, overwhelmed and overstimulated, and still—still—he doesn’t stop.
His pace stutters. You feel his cock twitch deep inside and the sharp growl in his throat as he thrusts harder, faster—chasing his own high.
“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes locked on yours, “Wanna see it leaking out of you after. My perfect little toy.”
Your cunt pulses around him like it wants it.
And then he’s groaning low, hips jerking once, twice more before he buries himself to the hilt and cums, thick and hot inside your sore, raw walls. It spills out even as he stays seated deep, making sure you take every drop.
For a while, the room is just heavy breathing and the sound of his palm brushing your face gently—wiping the spit from your chin.
Then he leans over and kisses your forehead.
“You did so good for me, baby,” Caleb murmurs, stroking your thigh now instead of gripping it like a vice. His voice is softer—gentle, sweet. “Let’s clean you up. Then I’ll get you water, okay?”
You nod slowly, hazy eyes fluttering open.
You can’t really form words yet, but he understands.
jealous colonel caleb and his lieutenant because i said so :)
“please!— please colonel! oh gosh—“ your begs and pleads filled the air, yet fell into deaf ears. the man behind you, your husband, was railing you into the large bed, his cock reaching your cervix with every harsh thrust, hands digging into your hips, “fuck—i-i can’t it’s too much caleb—“
“it’s not too much, you can take it,” he whispered in your ear, his hips pressing into the flesh of your ass, making it shake on impact, caleb’s eyes latched onto the jiggle, “damn—late nights at the gym with me has paid off,” slap! “your ass is getting fatter…didn’t even know that was possible.” you didn’t even understand what he was saying, your mind only filled with how deep his dick was going, how much pleasure your being given.
the sounds of skin slapping echoed in caleb’s bedroom, his hips reckless and powerful, thrusting into your wet pussy, his hand pressing onto your upper back to arch your back more.
the sight alone making him groan. your back arched nicely, your curls over your shoulders— fuck you were a masterpiece. grabbing a pillow, you stuffed your face into it, trying to hold back the loud moans which have probably waken up the whole of sky haven. that ass of yours driving caleb insane, shaking with every thrust, it was calling his name.
your ass red and bruised from his assualt earlier, spanking you for talking all cute and submissive for other men in the fleet. his heavy hand, still with his leather gloves on, landing on your flesh with every wrong answer you gave him. his other hand holding you down over his lap, until you apologised properly, which is when he finally rubbed your skin. squeezing the flesh and kissing your sore spots away, before putting you on all fours and fucking you raw.
“who do you belong to lieutenant? tell me,” caleb growled, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips, pulling your ass back to meet his own hips.
your head lifted from the pillow, black tears running down your face due to your mascara, your baby hair clinging to your face.
but nothing came out.
..did he even say anything? definitely not, however, it was too late when you realised he actually did speak, and even worse asked you something.
caleb’s silence sent shivers down your spine, and then his beefy arm went around your neck, pulling your torso up a little, bringing you to his chest. you could feel his muscles against your lower back, and his lips reached your ear, “i asked you a fucking question, don’t make me punish you again. or are you too cockdrunk to speak? can you only moan and beg? pathetic.” his voice was filled with power, commanding, making your pussy clench around him.
“i’m sorry colonel! i’m so sorry—fuck i’m so sorry! please—hah! what was the question? i’ll a-answer!” your hands went to his forearm, digging your nails into the firm muscle, feeling his arms tense. his arm was so muscular, so biteable it was hard not to sink your teeth into his flesh as well. “i’ll be a good girl colonel..!”
his other went to your bruised ass, landing another slap for your disobedience, “my poor lieutenant, can’t even remember what i said? little whore. i’ll say it again. who do you belong to?”
his thrusts picked up pace, slamming into your at an inhumane pace, feeling your tight pussy clench around his cock, your moans filling his ears. it only motivated him more, his cock reaching deeper into your cunt, you could feel it in your throat.
“i belong to you!—mhm! you colonel! only you!—ah! please—it’s too much!”
caleb’s arm removed itself from your neck, his hands. gently lowering your limp torso back onto the mattress. his hands going to your hips. his leg went up, to give him more strength to rail you harder. “too much? awh, little soldier can’t handle it? can’t handle my cock? huh?”
caleb scoffed, “silly girl, i’ll show you too much.”
@ alyakhq, do not plagiarise, copy or translate my work pls :)
Maybe you’ve irritated him, or maybe his irritation has nothing to do with you. But, when Caleb is in a mood, you know to be ready. “That’s it, pretty girl. Just like that.”
Your cheeks are burning, your fingers twisting in the pillow’s material as you pathetically hump it. He’s propped against the headboard, cock out but he’s not touching it. No, he’s watching you ride the — his — pillow with a dazed little grin on his face. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy on my pillow baby. Wanna smell you for fucking days.”
You’re whining, both aroused and grossed out by Caleb’s fascination with your cunt. “Bet your clit is throbbing, huh? The pillow’s friction on your bare pussy just isn’t enough to push you over the edge, right?” The whimper that comment choked out of you is mortifying.
Because he’s right.
It’s not enough, and it’s driving you fucking insane. Every pass over the now wet cotton of his pillow case had you clenching, but you’re not far gone enough to ride the pillow in the way you need too. Too embarrassed of the comments he’ll make when you do.
“C’mon baby, quit torturing my pretty pussy and give her what she wants. Your feeble attempt at glaring at him only makes his blissed out smirk widen.
“W-what she wants is you, Caleb.” Dammit, now he’s got you talking the same stupid nonsense… “I know she does, I can see the mess she’s makin’ for me…” he sucks in a breath, eyes locked on the drag of your cunt. “Gonna fucking soak my pillow through to the other side.”
“F-fuck the pillow, why can’t we ruin the mattress instead?” And oh is that tempting, but he needs to see you lose control first. You’re putting on a show for him, dragging your hips across the plush material in the same fashion porn stars would. An attempt to make yourself look more seductive as your body rolls fluidly over and over.
But what he needs is for you to lose it. “Be selfish, my little apple. Ride it like you mean it.” He needs to see your body jiggle as you gyrate on the pillow in a frantic manner. He knows what you look like when you really hump your pillow anyways. So frantic and tense, jaw slack and…
“Caleb you’re cumming!?” Okay, well. Maybe he got a little too lost in his head. “Sorry, pretty girl. Couldn’t stop thinking about’ya.” Spilled all over his stomach, didn’t even lay a finger on his pretty leaking tip. White ropes of cum slowly leak down his toned stomach.
“You’re so down bad for me.” It’s a gentle snort as you finally, finally, finally start to lose yourself in the game.
“Always have been, always will be. Now that’s it, pretty girl. Fuck my pillow how you’d fuck this cock, yeah?”
Caleb has a big ole potty mouth, I can’t help it when writing him lmao. This stems from a NSFW fanart I saw where Caleb was making MC hump the corner of a table… I wish I saved it lol cuz I’d link it right to this post 🥲
Caleb after being away for so long, he needs to taste your pussy so badly
Caleb fucks you good with the view from his apartment in Skyhaven
You're trying to see the information Jenna sent you about your new mission, but Caleb can't keep his hands off you and he's still hard even after he came.
You and Sylus can't take a shower together
Rafayel loves to tease you until you both can't take it anymore
Xavier brought a toy to play with you, but he ended up liking it a little too much
Zayne is big but you can fit in, right?
Zayne loves your body so you put on a little show for him
Xavier loves it when he's putting it behind you and you don't know where to hold on
You were shy about getting on top of Sylus, but after you tried it, you couldn't hold back anymore. He loves watching you use him for your pleasure.
Rafael loves it when you're a little dominant with him and use him as a seat
Caleb fucking you slowly and feeling every part of your tight pussy
cw. age gap, breeding, dirty talk, employer-employee relationship, twist at the end | 1.3k wc
it should be criminal how good you look with a baby on your hip.
specifically his baby.
caleb's darling ophelia giggles when you press your face into her chubby belly and blow raspberries, the toddler's squeal bouncing off the walls and warming up the chambers of his heart.
"again!" ophelia giggles, clapping her chubby fists together. "more!"
while you would love to do nothing but entertain the adorable kiddo, you unfortunately have to get back to your campus dorm before curfew if you want to avoid any hassle with the university security.
you glance over at him, an apologetic smile on your face. "i would love to, mr. xia... but my bus is coming soon." to ophelia, you coo, "tomorrow, okay?" she pouts, and to avert an oncoming tantrum, you cheer her up with: i'll bring you doughnuts!"
once the little critter is satisfied, you tuck her into bed and head towards the door, but not before caleb's throat clearing stops you in your tracks.
"hey. here's your cash."
oh. you turn back, wide smile in place. "thank you so much, mr. xia!"
he chortles, rubbing the back of his neck. he's still handsome despite being a decade older—long lashes. tousled dark hair with strands of white streaking it. heck, if he were a few years younger, you'd be hard-pressed to not try to throw yourself at him at some college afterparty.
"y'know you can call me caleb, squirt. mr. xia makes me sound ancient." he squints. "say. how about you stay for a while. i could use some young blood to help me with my model assembling."
"but, the bus—"
"i'll send ya back," he waves off your concern, and flashes you a grin that makes your heart squeeze. "come on. it's a friday night and you're off your duties." hammering it in, he offers: "i make a mean margarita."
pursing your lips, you eventually nod. "okay."
for the rest of the evening, caleb takes you around his basement, showing you his plane models, telling you the story behind all of them. the drink in your hand is mild, but in the low, ambient light, you can't help but wonder if it's a good enough reason to sidle closer to your employer.
he notices. of course, he does. caleb has a keen eye as an ex-pilot, after all.
"what about this one?" you innocently press closer, close enough to smell the scent of his minty aftershave. he hums, but doesn't step back, a smile lifting the corners of his lips.
"ah, this... this was my late wife's favorite..."
"your... late wife?" cautiously, you approach the topic with him. "if i may... what happened to her?"
he sobers up and gives you a wink. "another story. for another time."
the hours fly by. and just as the clock strikes 11, you're already straddling his lap, two margaritas too tipsy, lips pressed to his and swallowing down his heated moans.
his tongue slips into your mouth, begging for entry, and you give it to him, letting him taste you.
months of familiar banter make it easy for you to thread your fingers through his hair; slanting your face to the side to give him more access to your mouth.
it should be illegal how good this feels. yet, you don't care for anything but the feel of him under your touch, the taste of him heavy on your tongue. caleb kisses you with the expertise of a man who knows what he wants and what you need.
he doesn't push you, letting you cross the line first.
a tug on his hair. your teeth sinking into his lower lip.
it's all so dizzying and so, so right.
he looks good under you. all flushed lips and cheeks. and he's not shy either, judging from the tent in his pants.
"h-hey, slow down," he rasps, grasping onto your hips, his glasses askew and fogging up. "y'killing me, darling. i wanna savor you for a bit."
you would love to. but margarita number two has made you bold enough to shake your head and press closer.
"nuh-uh. need you now."
what else can he do but oblige you?
this cute, sexy, pretty little babysitter he hired off the net who looked so good between his thighs. was it sleazy? yeah. was it frowned upon? maybe.
but, did it feel good?
his moan is like velvet in your ears when you taste him, licking a drop of pre, flattening your tongue to drag it along a thick, pulsing vein that ran from the root of him to the crown.
hell yeah. it's more than good.
it's amazing.
"pretty baby," he growls, grinding up against you, feeling how hot and slick you're already getting for him.
growling, he rips off his glasses and tosses them behind the couch, letting them clatter god-knows-where so he can yank you into a bruising, all-consuming kiss.
"such a hot, perky body..." he pants against your mouth, kissing you with full-on need. "bet you'd look so pretty with your legs in the air, my seed drippin' down your thighs..."
your dulcet moan sets off the fire in his veins. goddamn. he just can't get enough of you.
"wanna put a baby in you," he mutters, finally giving into the desires he's been repressing since the moment he saw you on his front porch, all sexy as hell in a crop top and jeans.
he palms your heavy tit, eyes hooded with lust. "do you think i can suck on them hard enough till milk comes out?"
"h-ahhh!" your cries reverberate across the room, and he slaps a palm to your mouth to silence them. "ssh!" he hisses, "you're gonna wake the baby up."
but, it's impossible to keep it all in when he's so hot and thick inside you, pumping past your silky walls, the plump head of him hitting the opening of your womb.
risky and devilish, he grins at you. "hope you're not ovulating or anything... might be hard to stop myself from breeding this sweet, little body."
... fuck. just the thought of it, of him claiming you when you're this compromised, makes the lust light up your veins.
"no," you mewl, shaking your head, pressing closer as he guides your movements up and down, up and down.
taking you for what you're worth.
"m'not... not yet..."
caleb curses under his breath. "swear? might go crazy and make you a mommy... fuck... you know you look so good with my baby... you'd look amazing, sweetheart..."
neither of you can hold back at the thought, and he's shooting inside of you—thick, messy ropes that spill past, staining your thighs.
a-ahhh, your mewls spur him on to kiss you full on the lips, your heaving body writhing against his.
it takes you a full minute to process you'd just fuck your employer right on his couch, and the thought makes your cheeks warm.
"i..."
"nuh-uh," he shakes his head, and bundles you in his arms, holding you tightly to him. "don't leave. not now."
you close your eyes. "but, mr. xia—"
"darling, i've just been inside you," he scolds you lightly, chucking your cheek with two fingers in a playful way. "don't give me none of that mr.xia bullcrap."
you open your mouth, wanting to argue, but clamp it shut instead, a reluctant grin spreading across your face.
"caleb."
his ears are slightly red when he glances at you, a smile teasing the corners of his lips. he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders, protecting your modesty.
"y/n."
but, what neither of you anticipate to hear was a small, sleepy voice that shatters the illusion of peace; breaking this fragile afterglow and nearly shooting you sky-high in frantic circles once you realize just how indecent you two look right now.
"dada?" ophelia rubs her eyes, not even noticing your presence, or your stricken expression hidden behind his shoulder. "... i frew up..."
— feedback and rbs? *sad spongebob eyes* will make me v happy :')
Note: Did you miss me? :D Since I'm almost done with exams, I decided to do a small compilation of different videos that remind me of the birthday boyy!! I love Caleb so much he's so cute + he's so so big and so so yummy! As always, let me know if there are any problems!!
After you finally let Caleb know the way you feel about him, he just couldn't hold back any longer... Fucking you against the sofa, forcing one orgasm after the other as you try your best to correspond his hunger. You can't just help but feel your face starting to heat up the moment you see a note stuck to your door related to the "strange noises" yesterday night...
Guess he just couldn't hold back... of course he just had to fill your poor cunt with his cock! Oh, don't worry, Caleb will make sure no one else is able to see your pretty pussy wrapping around his cock, that view is only for him, after all.
Caleb knows he shouldn't feel so jealous about it, you were simply talking to some other guy, what's the deal? He knows it, but before he is able to calm down, he's already pressing you against the closest comfortable surface, forcing you to cum around his cock again and again until a creamy ring forms around it. Yes, he knows that you have orgasmed for over five times in less than 6 minutes, but hey, not his fault that your pussy is so weak to him! Just let him enjoy your pleas and whimpers each time he makes you cum.
What's best after returning home than eating something specially made by your sweet gf? Caleb surely knows it, getting on his knees as soon as he arrives home, quickly removing the clothes that were forbidding him from using his mouth and tongue against your pussy. Before you know it, your panties have been moved to the side, with Caleb's tongue making you see the whole galaxy each time he sucks with a bit of force against your clit.
Extra!
Caleb letting you edge him as compensation for each time he made you cry from cumming. He keeps massaging your tits over the shirt you're wearing, his purple eyes ressembling those of a puppy as he tries to make you fold so he can finally use his cock for a worthy purpose (breeding your pussy ♡♡)
💭 : p in v , overstimulation , fem!reader , praise , improper use of evol , squirting , messy sex , marathon sex , it’s ovulation week girls !! ^^
caleb knew how you got during ovulation week. one glance at his biceps, arms, or chest, and you’re looking at him with those eyes that are practically begging him to fuck you until you pass out.
and right now? you were looking at him with the same eyes. which is how you got led here. pinned down. drooling from both lips. being stretched out by a cock that was close to splitting you in half. “good girl,” caleb panted, sweat dripping from his temple.
his large form leaned over you, chest pressing against your legs in the meanest, most perfect mating press. his cock was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, drawing out more and more high, dumbed out moans from your puffy lips. he knew it too. oh, caleb knew how good you felt. to your fucked out facial expression to how your pussy is covering his cock whole.
“such a pretty—hah—pussy. god, she missed me, huh? suckin’ me in—all greedy,” he blabbered into your ear, the tone of his voice making you clench around his cock hard. you couldn’t even understand what he was saying—your brain was turning into mush, drooling from your panting mouth.
slurred words caleb didn’t even try to understand came out of your mouth as you went cross eyed, turning louder and louder. “ca—caleb! close, mph, ‘m close!” you whined and the man above you grinned. it felt like his thrusts got harder, faster and he pushed against your legs until they almost met your ears. “yeah? is my dumb baby close? i bet she is. ‘could feel this pussy clenching—i know her like the back of my hand.”
your gut coiled up into something you can’t explain and you blubbered nonsense, tears swelling in your eyes as you tensed. a few more thrusts—one, two, three—until you came with a scream.
except you didn’t cum. no, instead, you squirted. a wet splash and his abdomen, balls, and cock were covered in your juices. “holy—fuck—did you just squirt—” he let out a surprise gasp and your own pleasure triggered his own. he didn’t even have time to warn you before he toppled over, weight against your chest as he shot load after load into your wet heat.
you let out a mewl, too filled with ecstasy to hear hear caleb moan and groan about how “it’s so much”, and how he “can’t stop”. you felt filled to the brim, caleb’s thick cum seeping out of your well-stretched hole as his cock came to a stop. “fuck, thank you, baby. you did so good, so perfect.”
. . . he's definitely the type of guy to fuck you deep and hard, making sure that you feel all inches of his dick inside of you
. . . as much as he hates being away from you, he just can't help but love how clingy and needy you get for him when he returns
. . . you just won't tell him what he wants to hear so he has no choice but to break you:( making use of military grade cuffs he just so happened to have laying around
. . . you're just so greedy! you already have the real thing but still keep the fake one with you... since you can't seem to be satisfied, why not fill both holes?
. . . why not make good use of your toys by stretching you good and open before he actually fucks you with his dick? just have to stand there and take it
. . . you put so much effort for his birthday that he can't help but just take you on the couch! too horny and rilled up from all the waiting he'd done
. . . one of the gifts caleb specifically requested from you was to make a compilation of you fucking so he can have something to jerk off to will he's away! the website just isn't doing it anymore for him after he's had you
. . . he sounds so pretty and lovely <3 all tied up and helpless, at the mercy of your mere hands just as always, letting you have your way knowing he can just break free whenever he wants to
. . . something about seeing you all shaky underneath him as he continues to fuck you slowly knowing damn well how overstimulated you are
. . . sometimes all he needs is a good riding to calm his mind from all the stress he gets, being a colonel isn't easy after all
. . . his favourite food above anything and everything, he needs your weight above him while he indulges your yummy pussy
. . . it's not too bad if it doesn't go in right? maybe if he just takes his dick out.. and maybe if you just put your panties to the side..
. . . all leaky and creamy on him, oh you're like a broken sink, too horny to even fully take your panties off that he just rips it in half
. . . oh he loooovesssss taking you from behind, pinning your waist down so you can take him as deep as possible!
. . . kissing his cheek on his graduation in front of hundreds of people? and getting away with it? absolutely not
[ A/N : feel free to imagine as the other lads boys ;) ]
