caleb likes how—for lack of a better word—clingy you are. scratch that, he loves it. he even takes it for granted sometimes. truly, he indulges in your constant need to be physically glued to his presence like a leech.
mornings are spent with you hanging off his back as he moves around the kitchen, making breakfast for the two of you. most times, you don’t even make it to the dining room because caleb just drops you onto the counter, slots himself between your legs, and feeds you toast while your arms are wrapped around his neck.
lunch is spent in the living room. caleb’s famous braised pork belly sits at the center, with a lot of side dishes spread out across the coffee table as the two of you sit beside each other on the floor, shoulders touching. he watches you with eyes full of love as you enjoy the food he prepared wholeheartedly. the little hums you let out after each bite are enough to make his heart flutter. once you’re done eating, cleanup is spent with him washing the dishes while you stay beside him, drying them off with a towel.
afternoons mean nap time—caleb’s second favorite time of day. naps are taken on the couch, not exactly ideal for his height, but he bears with it because cuddling with you makes up for the back pain he’s sure to have later. you’re laid on top of him as he lies flat on his back, your face tucked between his pecs. his arms slip around you, one resting on your waist and the other grabbing your thigh, dragging it up along his hip.
affection at nighttime varies from innocent cuddles and pampering to more intense activities that involve more than just skin-to-skin contact. but it all ends the same way—caleb, shirtless and in only his boxers, lying on his side and hugging you. you’re dressed in just your underwear and his old daa shirt, tucked close to his chest. one of your legs is hiked up over his side, your arms somehow looped around his neck despite the awkward angle.
caleb loves your clinginess because it makes him feel better about his own need to be close to you at all times. he feels validated, knowing that you accept whatever he has to offer—and that you even initiate, instead of leaving everything up to him.
Content: soulmate au, caleb is your stalker, he is an unreliable narrator and very much unhinged, he breaks into your home and sets up cameras, possessive and obsessive behavior, he kills someone but it's non-graphic, smut, L-bombs, oops reader is a little unhinged too, talk of marriage, marathon sex, somnophilia (with prior consent given)
➢ Read on AO3
From a young age, Caleb has always had a knack for seeing patterns. He makes mathematics look easy, he breezes through things like puzzles or building model airplanes, and he observes everything in life with a quiet calculation that unnerves most people.
His family calls him special. People who meet him for the first time call him a bit strange yet charismatic. Since childhood, he knew there was something different about him. Caleb has a gift no one else has: he can see fate.
Fate is beautiful. Connections and relationships are woven throughout the universe in the form of deep red threads. Some are thick cords, strengthened by a bond that's been realized early on in life. Others are thin, fraying, and tangled when someone touches a body they aren't meant to be with but want anyway.
These threads aren't exclusively for romantic bonds. Some destined relationships are lifelong friends, platonic life partners, or anything in between. A few people even have more than one if they're lucky. No matter the type of soulmate, everyone has a thread tied to them. Everyone except Caleb.
It's a cruel thing, seeing everyone else's destiny but being blind to your own. He doesn't even know if he has a soulmate at all. As a teen, he convinced himself it was a test—maybe he just needed to work harder to find his soulmate. He spent far too much time researching old mythology about destiny and fated lovers.
Growing into young adulthood, he spent even more time watching people, searching for someone else who might be missing their own thread. With Caleb's good looks and charming personality, he's always been spoiled for choice when it comes to a potential partner. Many people throw themselves at him, not realizing their threads tug them back toward someone else entirely.
It's not like he needs to reject his admirers. He knows he could just be another passing tangle or knot in someone's connection with a true soulmate. But that doesn't appeal to him. He wants to feel that undeniable pull, that intimate connection that comes with finding the person who was made for him. So he continues waiting—and watching for patterns he can study.
He soon learns how to guess people's whole life stories just from the way their threads are woven. It becomes second nature to figure out someone is having an affair or if they've lost a loved one or are desperately trying to escape fate altogether.
When he bumps into you at a café, he initially thinks nothing of it. He plasters on his usual suave smile while reaching down to grab your fallen bag. And when he hands it back to you, he freezes in place.
Caleb has never believed in sparks flying or love at first sight. Especially not when he's witnessed firsthand how every connection is planned by some higher power. But when he sees your face—your apologetic smile and the way you look at him with genuine kindness—he thinks fate becomes inconsequential.
His eyes land on the red thread tied around your left wrist like a shackle, and his heart drops. For a fleeting moment, he hoped you'd have no thread like him. He almost turns away, until he notices the wrongness of it.
Your thread is…ugly. A weak, dull color as it yanks at your wrist like an incessant child, trying to tug you toward something you don't seem to have any interest in.
The moment you turn your back on Caleb to resume your order, his eyes never leave you. You become an obsession—half because of that immediate flicker of something he felt when he saw you, and the other half because he has to find out why fate feels different around you.
His feet carry him mindlessly behind you when you leave the café. Careful not to arouse suspicion, he follows you all the way to your apartment. And imagine his surprise when he realizes you live right down the hall from his own apartment.
Caleb doesn't believe in coincidence. So he takes it upon himself to learn even more about you.
Clearly, the universe is sending him a sign. Maybe it messed up when writing your destiny. Maybe some cosmic being needs his help in fixing the mistake. Either way, he's the only one who can correct that dreadful thing holding you back from having a true soulmate. He's the only one who could be your soulmate.
He watches you for weeks, taking his time to collect as much information about you as he can before he makes his next move. People, normal people, are hilariously predictable. Not only are they beholden to fate, but they also desperately cling to routine. Just another pattern that Caleb picks up on with far too much ease.
It barely takes him a month to have your entire schedule mapped out and memorized. Even on the rare occasion when you do something spontaneous, he's able to intuit where you might go, who you might be with, and what time you'll decide to head back home.
He takes advantage of one of the moments you're not home, picking the lock on your front door with ease. Knowing exactly how much time he has before you return, he's planned the perfect opportunity to plant hidden cameras in each of the rooms of your apartment.
He's so well-prepared that he even has a few extra minutes afterward to go through your most precious belongings. It's hard not to steal a caress of your soft bed, rifle through the diary hidden underneath it, or gingerly smell one of your hoodies hanging on the couch.
If you were here now, you would freak out. Caleb's not insane enough not to know that. But he also believes if you gave him a chance to explain—you're meant to be with him, duh—maybe you wouldn't be too mad. That's why he does something completely unplanned and leaves with your hoodie after double-checking that all the cameras work.
Luckily, you don't notice the missing item or the added tiny red dots peeking out from strategically placed spots. One of the things Caleb loves about you is how sweet and trusting you are. It's something anyone else could easily take advantage of, though. And he doesn't like the thought of that.
Being a guardian angel isn't enough for him. Watching from afar won't mean much if someone gets too close to you when he's unprepared or turns his back for a moment. He needs to make sure no one else slides into your life. Especially if that someone could be whoever is on the other end of that counterfeit bond wrapped too tightly around your wrist.
So Caleb manufactures more accidental meetings with you. You're neighbors, after all. When you take out your trash, Caleb times his exit perfectly, turning a corner just fast enough to bump into you. His charming apology makes you a bit flustered, and he thinks you're even cuter when you're within arm's reach.
The second meeting happens at a bookstore three blocks down. The one you frequent every Saturday around lunchtime to read a new book while snacking on something salty. He’s already browsing the shelves when you walk in, glancing at you with feigned surprise when you notice your neighbor likes one of the books you read last week.
After that, it becomes easier. He embeds himself into your routine until he's impossible to ignore.
First, he's a simple stranger who you notice every once in a while. Then, an acquaintance who happens—coincidentally—to love the same cafés, the same obscure novels, the same quiet walking paths you prefer at dusk. He laughs at the right moments. Listens when you speak. Remembers little details you share that you think anyone else wouldn't bother paying attention to.
Finally, he becomes a friend. A staple in your daily routine. A shoulder you cry on when days are hard and you need someone to rely on.
In those moments, Caleb wants nothing more than to confess his feelings for you. Everything is going so well, and he can sense that you'd reciprocate his confession.
With every cozy hangout, conversation that stretches past midnight, and shared meal where your knees brush his under the table, Caleb watches the subtle shift in your body language. The way you lean closer and your voice softens. You're falling for him.
But that grotesque thing around your wrist begins to thrash in protest whenever he gets too close. His teeth grit every time he sees its blatant disapproval.
Why is the universe resisting him now? You are his other half. He's never been so sure of anything else in his life. Is this the real test he mistakenly thought he'd been put through as a child?
At night, he lies awake and dissects every possible next step. No matter the scenario, he arrives at the same conclusion. There is only ever one outcome with fate.
He's seen it before in past observations: no matter how much fate veers off course, it always finds a way to correct itself. But perhaps that's only because no one with Caleb's gift has ever tried to intervene.
People believe fate does not bend for desire, or that it doesn't reward patience and effort. They believe it simply is. But when you grow up seeing its physical manifestation and the way people fight against it, it's hard not to come to the conclusion that even something preordained can be manipulated by someone strong enough.
If Caleb's been given such a gift…then it would be a shame not to use it.
He'll make sure there is no possible way the universe could pull you into someone else's orbit. Which means he needs to find the parasite at the other end of your tether. He needs to measure their worth. Even though deep down, he already knows what answer lies at the end of his calculations.
And he's proven right when he finally does find your dead weight. Your so-called soulmate doesn't seem to treasure true love or fate at all. Even worse, the man doesn't even add up to a quarter of the exceptional person you are.
Your destined counterpart spends his days slouched at a bar that smells like stale beer and desperation. Caleb watches from across the street first. Then from inside. Then a day later, from a camera discreetly installed in the man's messy home.
He scowls as he watches your fated half drown in cheap booze and women that barely stay the night before being kicked out onto the street like trash. One could barely call this a routine when it's more like a never-ending rut for a loser who thinks he's the shit when he actually just smells like it.
This is what pulls at your wrist every night? This is what dares to fight when Caleb leans into you with a look full of yearning?
The knowledge taunts him for three days. That's all it takes before he ponders something brand new about the universe while watching a belligerent idiot snore facedown on a stained mattress.
Can fate defend itself?
Caleb makes sure what he's about to do will look like a freak accident. It's just something that happens to a drunkard who no one will miss anyway.
It turns out it's easy to sever the very thread of fate that he always admired as a kid. In fact, he's a little disappointed by the lack of ceremony. There's no bolt of lightning striking him down, no divine intervention or a voice booming from above in anger of what Caleb has taken into his own hands.
Fate is weak and pathetic as it tries to resist its new order from a power more determined than a fickle thing like the universe. It bleeds and whimpers before the last rush of air leaves its lungs.
Caleb stares down at the broken thread, now unattached from the man you were never meant to meet.
It feels like a stupid thought now, but he knows he has to attach it to himself. He doesn't believe in its power anymore, but you might. You might feel its loss if it decays, the same way he's seen remnants of other people's bonds that ended when their lovers passed away too soon. Besides, he wants there to be no question that there is an unshakeable bond between you two—even if you can't see it for yourself.
Caleb works quickly, tying a knot around his left wrist a bit too tightly, like he's scared it might come undone if he isn't meticulous enough. Some strange bit of life still left in the thread resists him at first, stubbornly recoiling from the wrongness of what just transpired. But familiarity is a powerful thing. He has already watched you, memorized you, and diligently shaped his life around the edges of yours. He makes fate recognize effort now.
It stings for a few minutes, feeling like forcing a shape into the wrong space. Fortunately, his lack of a thread becomes an advantage. There is nothing to conflict, nothing to reject the intrusion other than your own thread trying to hold onto something irrelevant.
And after a few heart-pounding moments, the knot finally holds—and your thread stills. Caleb exhales for the first time in minutes. He leaves the unmoving body on the dirty mattress, smiling when he thinks of the next time he'll see you with a strengthened bond.
Your neighbor—and new best friend—is the sweetest man you've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You never thought you'd find someone like him in this day and age. A true gentleman, he makes you feel seen in a way that feels inevitable. Like he was always waiting for you to run into him on a busy day at your favorite café.
Lately, you've been unable to stop yourself from flirting with danger. And it really is a dangerous thing to fall in love with a neighbor. If things don't work out, then you'll have to bump into an ex every day just to go in and out of your apartment.
But if the only dangerous thing about wanting a man like Caleb is the possibility of a constant heartache, then you'll take your chances. Besides, your chest already tightens painfully every time he smiles at you. Your heart really does skip a beat when he laughs at your jokes, or hugs you when you're sad, or when his hands wander just a bit while he cuddles up beside you on your couch.
Caleb is different than any men you've ever met. He's better. Maybe he's the best you might ever get. And you're not going to let someone else snatch him up.
That's precisely why you've already put so much faith in him. Someone as gentle as Caleb could never hurt a fly, so you happily gave him a key to your apartment for emergencies. You let him come over even when you're looking like a mess after tiring days at work. You even fall asleep on him sometimes, so trusting that he would always protect you even in your most vulnerable states.
His easygoing charm and innocent puppy-like eyes make your heart beat only for him. But you're also a bit annoyed; no matter how much his touch might wander at times, he always holds himself back.
You've tried baiting him with shorts that "accidentally" ride up a bit between your thighs when you bend down in front of him. You've even let your hands trail his chest and abs while watching movies beside him.
It takes all your willpower not to jump him right then and there the moment your fingertips trace the quivering lines of his lower stomach. His breathing always turns heavier with cute little gasps of air when you touch him. But still, he doesn't take things further.
It's for this reason that you decide to take a leap of faith and ask him on a date. You're not usually this bold with your crushes, but something about Caleb makes you want to be brave. When the two of you meet up at your usual café for lunch, you take advantage of a quiet moment.
"Caleb?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady as he looks up at you over the rim of his coffee mug.
He sets the cup down, giving you his full attention like he always does. You stammer for a second, and he smirks, as if he can guess what you're about to say. That cockiness is what makes you turn a nervous question into a headstrong declaration.
"I want to go out on a date with you."
Immediately, you feel a bit stupid for the phrasing and the way you looked at him like he had no say in the matter. But Caleb—always the type to play along with your every whim—smiles, his dimples making you swoon a bit. You notice a flicker of something strange in his expression, but it's too fast to put to words.
"You do?" he asks with a chuckle, far too calm when you're over here sweating buckets and waiting for a proper response. "Well, I could never say no to you."
The warmth that spreads through you is immediate and dizzying. You laugh in relief, feeling ridiculous for ever doubting yourself or his feelings for you. Caleb wipes away any residual doubt the second he gets up from his chair and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.
He promises to plan everything for your date, even though you were the one who asked him out. The next weekend, he meets you at your apartment promptly on time, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small box of treats from that dessert place you love visiting.
Everything is perfect and effortless. Even more so than how it usually feels being by his side. He picks a restaurant you mentioned wanting to try weeks ago—one you hadn't expected him to remember. He holds doors open for you, rests his hand lightly at your back while leading you to the table, and looks at you like you're the only person in the room.
As always, conversation with Caleb flows easily. Since you've known him, he's always been able to guess what's on your mind, what might be bothering you or making you nervous. It's uncanny just how much he can stay in sync with you, as easily as breathing.
But this time, there's something just a bit different about your dynamic. Something charged with a heightened tension.
When your fingers reach across the table to brush against his hand, he doesn't pull away or avoid eye contact. He looks at you like what you've just done has sealed something he's been waiting to finalize for a long time.
It should scare you, that dark look in his eyes. Because for a second, he looks a bit unrecognizable. But all you feel is a sensation like something clicking into place.
You intertwine your fingers with his and ask, "Do you believe in soulmates?"
For the first time since you've met him, Caleb looks surprised. Nothing ever catches him off guard. Yet somehow, this simple question does the trick.
Wondering if maybe your question was a bit embarrassing, you backtrack. "I know it sounds silly. But—"
"Yes," he interrupts with a whisper. "I mean…I'm not sure if I did before meetin' you." His thumb rubs your knuckles back and forth as he holds your hand just a bit tighter. "But now I know."
If it was anyone else, you might have been amused by how cheesy his words are. But when Caleb is the one saying them—so earnestly, too—all you feel is a rush of heat through your body.
The rest of the date happens in a bit of a blur. Both of you can't seem to keep your hands off each other, even opting to skip dessert if it means getting back home quicker.
You really aren't the type to invite a first date inside your home, no matter how well the night goes. This time it's different because it's Caleb, the man you've already shared so much with. He's been inside your home before. He's seen you in every way but one. And you're desperate to show him that missing piece now.
As soon as you unlock your door, you push him inside, all pretense forgotten the moment your shoes and coats come off. You crash into him, feverish kisses stealing his breath away as he chuckles between them. You don't care how eager you seem, you just want his lips on yours.
Using his tie as a leash, you tug him backwards with you, blindly stumbling to your bedroom. But even when you think you might bump into a wall, Caleb redirects you with his eyes closed, like he's memorized the route you need to take without so much as parting from your lips. If you weren't getting drunk off his kisses, maybe alarm bells would ring in your mind—you've never taken him to your bedroom before now.
Nothing matters anyway. Nothing except getting him out of these stupid clothes and showing him just how much you've wanted him all night. When Caleb gently pulls you down onto your bed, you move with more roughness, your frenzied kisses pausing so you can shove him to sit back against the headboard and straddle his lap.
His eyes sparkle with mirth, but he lets you manhandle him. The realization makes your stomach flutter. Testing the waters further, you use his shoulders as leverage before grinding down on him. Caleb's hands fly to your hips with a gasp, but he doesn't control your movements. He just lets you rock at your own pace, basking in the weight of your core rubbing against his clothed erection.
His compliance encourages you, making you needy for leaving more kisses along his Adam's apple and neck. He moans for you while his hips buck instinctively beneath yours, and it makes another flood of arousal pool between your thighs.
"Mm, is this okay?" you mumble against his skin while grinding with more pressure, desperately chasing friction.
His fingers tighten on your waist, but he still doesn't stop you. "Y-you can use me however you want, baby," he replies through another breathy moan. "I'm yours. All yours."
How did you get so lucky, you wonder before biting down on his neck. You make sure to suck a mark worthy of being on someone who gives himself to you so eagerly. It's the least you can do for how sweetly he whimpers and claws at your hips while you hump him until you're nearly coming on his lap.
In the midst of your greed, you've undone his tie and ripped a few of the buttons on his shirt, making room for more licks and bites. When you lean back to look at your handiwork, both of you are panting, not nearly satisfied yet but needing a moment to catch your breath. And your sweet friend, no, boyfriend now, looks at you like he's ready to worship you.
He slides one hand up your body, taking his time to feel every curve until his fingers gently wrap around your left wrist. He holds his breath and glances at you with hesitation, like touching your arm is a sin.
It's cute how even after your frenzied touches and kisses, he acts like he still needs permission to reciprocate them. You nod, and then he carefully lifts your hand to his trembling lips before kissing the inside of your wrist.
The gesture seems deeper than you can understand, especially with the way he keeps glancing at you as if you know its hidden meaning. But you're lost for words, only feeling that aching throb between your legs and needing him to soothe it. He notices your confused expression but presses another kiss to your hammering pulse before smiling up at you.
"Let me take care of you now," he says, tugging you by the wrist to reposition you beneath him.
It's your turn to be maneuvered, and you let him. He kisses down your body, fingers still tickling that wrist he seems fixated on before he pins it to the mattress.
The two of you pull at each other's disheveled clothes until you're both bare. Until the tip of his cock nudges against your lower belly as Caleb continues showering you in love. But before you can feel it inside you, he seems to have other plans.
His kisses travel across your chest, against stiffened nipples, along the softness of your tummy, then finally between your thighs. When he pushes your legs apart, you shudder, feeling the cool air kiss your soaked folds a second before his warm breath does. Then he drags the flat of his tongue in one long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.
The sound you make is obscene. Your hips jerk up before you can stop them, accidentally shoving your cunt harder against his mouth. But Caleb's only response is a needy moan, like he’s the one being pleasured, the vibration humming straight through your core.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he mumbles, lips brushing your swollen clit as he speaks. “Let me hear you, baby. You're mine now—those sounds are mine.”
You barely have time to let the certainty of his words sink into your fluttering stomach before he dives in like a man starved. No teasing anymore. Just hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses to your pussy.
It's like he knows exactly what pace to set and how much pressure his tongue should apply to make you wail for him. Could it be possible this man was sent from Heaven to satisfy all your cravings? You swear you might become religious after this.
His tongue nudges against your clit before his lips suction around it, and your back arches off the bed while you moan for him. One hand flies to his hair while your other fists the sheets, and still he doesn’t let up. If anything, the way you yank his hair only makes him moan louder against you.
There's a faint rustle of movement, and you glance down to see Caleb gently rocking against your mattress, so lost in the taste of you that he needs to hump your bed.
"Oh my god, I think I'm gonna come," you cry, feeling overwhelmed by how quickly he's able to pull this much pleasure from you. You fuck his face with more fervor now, shamelessly bucking your hips and pulling on his hair with a tightness you'll only regret after you come down from this high. "Caleb, please…need your fingers. Wanna come around them," you whine with each buck.
You peek down at him, and he's watching you with dark eyes, a scary determination in them while his hand snakes in between your legs. His fingers slide inside you with ease, curling in a rhythm that matches how he laps up your slick.
The soft smacks of his lips against your skin and the squelch of your wet pussy fill the room, mingled with your growing screams. And then you gush around his thick digits—coating his lips, chin, and palm with your orgasm. Caleb takes it all with a look of reverence on his flushed face, licking every drop you give him and gasping for air when he finally parts from your twitching body.
When he slides up your body to look at you with a satisfied grin, your pussy clenches again at the sight of his glistening mouth and pupils blown wide. He looks dazed, proud. His cock slides against your still-twitching pussy, smearing precum against the mess you already have between your legs—but he doesn’t rush you. Instead he kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“Please,” you whisper against his lips when he pulls back just enough to breathe. “More, I need more. Need you inside me.”
He exhales a shaky laugh that turns into a groan when you wrap your legs around his waist. “Yeah…yeah, baby. I’ve got you, don't worry.”
Reaching down, he nestles the head of his cock between your folds and then finally pushes in. It's slow, so fucking slow, but you revel in the jolt of pleasure that shoots down your body as he stretches you out cautiously. He's bigger than any man you've had before, but every thick inch slides inside easily, filling you all the way until his hips are flush with yours.
Caleb curses beneath his breath, head falling to rest against yours while he pants and gasps at the feeling of you wrapped so tight around him. His eyes meet yours, locked and unable to tear away when he starts to move.
You both groan from the feeling, gripping each other tighter and starting to build up a faster rhythm. It's easy to get lost in this feeling, and you lose track of what you mumble and chant while Caleb picks up the pace. But while you struggle to keep your eyes on him, he can't stop staring.
He also can't keep his hands off you while fucking you nice and deep. His fingers toy with your nipples, rolling and pinching them to get more sounds out of you. And then they caress your stomach, pushing down slightly right above your mound to elevate the feeling of how he fills you up. You stutter and shake, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a breathless kiss.
His lips find yours again and again between thrusts, sharing his breath with you before he whispers, "Fuck, I love you."
That sentence sends your thoughts to a screeching halt, but your pussy clenches even harder around him. You should be appalled that he's saying such a thing so soon. You should reconsider this whole relationship and how quickly you've allowed it to escalate.
You should, but you don't want to. In fact, you think you love him too.
Feeling your second orgasm barreling toward you too fast, you crash your lips against his again, nails digging into his shoulders and leaving little red crescents.
“Hm, I…love you too,” you babble, after breaking the kiss. Your brain practically short-circuits with how close you are to coming. You can't stop the words spilling out of your mouth. “Love you so much. Don’t stop, oh, don’t stop—”
The second those words leave your lips, a switch seems to flip in Caleb's brain. His whole body locks up for one heartbeat, buried deep inside you, cock throbbing hard enough that you feel it pulse against your walls. Then he exhales a ragged sound against your mouth, and the slower, careful rhythm he’d been holding onto shatters. His hips snap harder, punching the air from your lungs and making your eyes roll back.
“You can't take that back now,” he growls, his voice alarmingly different from the sweet, hesitant Caleb who kissed your wrist like it was sacred.
He’s moving faster, rougher, but still so deep it feels like he’s trying to carve himself into you permanently. Your foreheads stay pressed together, making it impossible to look away from the wild, glassy look in his eyes.
“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he groans, like it's a fact and not a hypothetical. “I'll put a ring on this finger"—he snatches the same hand he’s been obsessed with all night and brings it to his lips to kiss the bare spot where a ring would sit—“and make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”
This is so wrong, god this is so wrong. Everything is moving so fast. You shouldn't like this. You can't tell if this is just dirty talk or something more serious, but that look in Caleb's eyes is a little terrifying.
And yet? Your cunt flutters hard around him at the words, more of your arousal gushing down and soaking the sheets beneath you.
“Oh, fuuuck, that's it," he says with a manic laugh, folding your legs higher until your knees are pressed up against your sweaty chest. "I can feel how much you like this, baby. It's okay if you do," he coos. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to hear you moan like this. You’re mine—only ever gonna be mine. Say it again for me, sweetheart." His voice cracks, and it's the only thing making you refocus on his words while your ears ring from the pleasure. "Say you love me while I fill you with my cum.”
You’re beyond proper speech now, just broken whimpers and gasps, but you manage to choke out, “Love you—I love you, Caleb.”
He slams in one last time, hips grinding flush against yours, cock pulsing as he comes with a choked sob that makes your toes curl. Your pussy spasms and clamps around him, milking him dry as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.
Turns out you're just as crazy in love as he is. And you don't have it in you to be ashamed right now.
Caleb's counting his lucky stars that he spent all those nights watching you touch yourself through the flickering camera feeds he set up. It's what helped him learn all the ways you like to be caressed, the speed you prefer when you have a silicone cock deep inside you, and the fantasies you'd whisper to yourself when you imagined someone above you.
You won't need fantasy anymore, though. He knows everything about you. That's why he's able to make you cream on his cock over and over again, while his hips move at a speed even he didn't know he was capable of.
The gravity of this moment—of finally claiming the person he's going to keep for the rest of his life—is heady. It makes Caleb insatiable and greedy for more. More of your addicting sounds, more of your shaking orgasms, more of his cum spilling deep inside you.
More, more, more. Caleb can't stop chanting it each time you melt and rake your nails against his back and allow him to take everything from you.
You're so pretty, so perfect, all his. It goes straight to his head, and his cock, when you beg for all that he's giving you even when your body is so weak that it can't hold itself up.
You like being pushed to your limit, it seems. Right when you become too exhausted to keep your eyes open, you sleepily tell him he can keep going if he wants to. He can't help but come inside you again just from hearing your whispered permission to use you while you fall asleep.
The fact that you trust him so readily…god, he knew you were made for him. He doesn't keep you awake too long, even though his cock already throbs insistently for more of your warmth after he pulls out with a groan.
Caleb is no stranger to patience. He's glad he waited to find you. Because now he'll never let you go—and there will be many more days to spend reminding you of that if you ever forget.
No matter what happens now, you're bound to him forever. Fate made sure of it.
a/n: thank you all for the 2k celebration votes 💕 I hope I made good on our wish for more scaryleb teehee
and none of this would be possible without my ride or die @heartyluv, who constantly inspires me with her takes on scaryleb and toxic!caleb. everyone say a big thank you to her bc she let me yap about this fic to her and she beta read it for meeee, ilysm Jay 😘
synopsis. you smiled at another man, so colonel caleb — your lover and childhood friend — finally sealed his obsession by locking you in a human-sized cage. when you try to manipulate your way out, he shows you why he is the one in charge.
pairing. boyfriend! caleb xia x reader
content/mdni. canon-divergent. VERY NON-CON!!! fem!reader, established relationship!au, colonel!caleb, YANDERE!CALEB, jealous!caleb, possessive!caleb, pervert!caleb, obsessed!caleb, fucked-up!caleb, OBJECTIFICATION, dacryphilia, HUMILIATION, fingering, slight clit stimulation, degradation, dirty talk, slight praise, name-calling (pipsqueak, good girl, whore, slut, dirty girl, liar), doggy style in the cage, intentional raw sex, creampie, SPIT PLAY, mentions of breeding, mentions of isolation and/or imprisonment, caleb puts you in a cage, mistrust.
word count. 2.8k
a/n. can’t forget about the toma scene in amnesia and so can’t @yuunileb! couldn’t offer you a birthday gift, nor a christmas one, so please humbly accept this (late) nasty new year’s present, my dear yuna! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
the cage was never meant for animals. it was custom-made for you.
polished oak and metal, a square fitting perfectly into the corner of the bedroom you shared with caleb xia — colonel of the fleet, your childhood friend, your lover. the man who had been watching you since you both learned what hearts beat for.
he’d had it built soon after you two started dating, just after you smiled at a cadet during a work party. just after you’d misbehaved and betrayed him — that was how it looked to him, at least.
six months he’d been waiting for the right moment to use it.
and, alas, you gave him the opportunity.
“you looked at him like you wanted him.” caleb had whispered, his chest pressed against your back as he shoved you in and locked the cage door for the first time three days ago. “you let him touch your arm. your bare arm.”
as he recalled your betrayal, his voice was not angry. it was worse — calm, resigned, absolute. like a sentence already written.
“i have to protect you from yourself, pips.” he’d added, hands sneaking through the bars and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “you don’t know what’s good for you.”
he has been working from home since. he had a preferred spot in the corner of the bedroom now. and he slept there too, his purple eyes open and fixed on you in the darkness. never leaving you alone.
he fed you through the cage three times a day, always soft, nutritious purees or soups that he blended himself.
he even walked you to the bathroom and aided you at every step — he wouldn’t want you to escape through the window there.
“you’re my most beloved possession.” he told you yesterday, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw through the gaps as he wiped at the soup residues on your skin. “nothing else in this universe matters as much.”
you were not going to escape him. you were his. a collection piece he had paid for in a lifetime of psychotic dedication.
•••
on the third night, you broke. you crouched at the front of the cage, tears cutting silent paths through the dust on your face.
completely done with his madness.
“please, caleb.” you cried, your voice a raw whisper. “i’ll do anything. i’ll never interact with him. just let me out.”
he was already sitting in his armchair, a book open on his lap, yet barely reading its content. he was too enchanted by your precariousness. even... aroused.
he closed the book lazily, his amethyst eyes now glittering in the low light. something darker bloomed behind his pupils, making that lovely shade of purple blur. “anything?”
“yes.”
“so if i ask you to cut off all contact with the outside world, you would?”
your stomach sank at that, yet you advanced. “yes.”
“if i ask you to marry me in a private ceremony where no one else is invited?”
“yes.”
“if i ask you to let me put a tracker, a tiny chip under your skin?”
tears fell harder at that, the danger looming around caleb’s intimidating frame strangling you. you couldn’t answer from fear, from the sheer realization that the person you’ve known since childhood was so psychotic.
your lips opened, but no sound came.
he smiled, the corners lifting up in anything but a comforting smile. “you see, pipsqueak? you still have limits. you’re not ready.” he stood, approaching your cage.
“and you don’t mean any of the promises you’re making. you’re just saying what i want to hear so i’ll let you out.” he knelt then, uniform creasing at the knees, his eyes level with yours.
“but if you really wanted out, you’d do anything. even the things that scare you.”
he stood up abruptly, walking to the side of the room where a small table held your evening tea. he poured a cup, brought it back, and held it to your lips through the bars.
“drink.”
you obeyed — knowing he could put a stop to your meals altogether and doom you — sipping the warm, honey-sweet liquid. your hands shook as you held the bars, tightening your grip with every gulp. he watched you like a scientist observing a rare specimen, tipping the cup forward and making you take it all.
“you are so beautiful like this.” he whispered suddenly, removing one of his hands and bringing it up to collect your tears. “so sweet. so... mine.”
•••
the escape plan came to you in a panicked, desperate moment. you’d seen his eyes darken with lust when you’d adorned that pleated skirt that was a little too short for you. you’d heard him groan in his sleep too, the word mine being moaned by his hungry lips.
you were planning to take advantage of that.
so that night, when he came to feed you dinner, you didn’t open your mouth for the spoon. instead, you leaned forward, your lips brushing his bare knuckles.
“i don’t want food.” you whispered, your voice deliberately thick, trembling not with desire but with terror. but for caleb, so far gone, desire and terror were synonyms. “i want something else.”
his eyes widened at your words, but his face remained stern. “oh?”
“i can’t stop thinking about you.” you pushed out your whiniest voice, the lies burning your tongue in the most syrupy way. “about you fucking me. about your cock.”
“pips–”
“i’m so achy, caleb.”
and you reached a hand down, hiking the skirt he’d dressed you in that morning — pale pink, lace-trimmed, like a doll’s dress. his doll. you let your fingers brush the inside of your thigh, slip against the gusset of your panties.
“see?”
he set the bowl of soup aside slowly, precisely, each and every movement controlled and calculated. too calculated. he crouched, and his hand shot through the bars, grabbing your wrist suddenly, tight enough to make you gasp in pain.
he pulled your hand to his nose, and inhaled deeply.
“you’re not aroused.” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. “you’re terrified. you smell like fear.” he released your wrist with force, pushing it back behind the bars, his eyes pitch-black. “you’re trying to manipulate me, pips.”
your heart hammered against your ribs. your plan was failing before being set into motion. “no, i’m not–”
“shhh.” he pressed a finger to your lips through the bars, that sweet expression you know and love returning for a second. “you’re awful at lying. i’ve known you since we were little. i know when you’re scared.”
he leaned closer, his breath warm on your cheek. “but you know what? i appreciate the effort. it means you’re trying to understand how this works.”
then he stood up, and your hope crumbled into dust.
“so here’s what we’re going to do.” he said, his voice casual, as if discussing the current weather.
wait, what?
“you said you want my cock. you said you’re wet. so i’ll give it to you.” his hands moved to his belt, unbuttoning his uniform pants. “but you stay in that cage. i’ll fuck you through the bars.”
wait, wait, wait…
horror washed over you, cold and thick, draining all the warmth from your body.
this wasn’t happening. this couldn’t be real.
you didn’t want this.
“no.” you choked out, taking a step back into the cage, hitting another set of bars. “caleb, please–”
“ah.” he smiled, a bright, insane twist of his lips. “so you were lying. you don’t want it. you’re just scared and you want to get out.” he tilted his head, mocking you.
wait, please, wait…
“well, now you have a choice. you either go through with your lie, and i fuck you through the bars. or you admit you lied, and i leave you in here for another week.”
your body shook, tears blurring your vision, making the terrifying posture of the colonel even more frightening. the promise of another week in this cage, of his constant, smothering attention.
felt like a sentence to a different kind of madness.
“i…” your voice broke, the two ideas dueling in your mind. you closed your eyes, trying to sort it out. “i don’t know.”
to no avail.
“turn around then.” he said, making the choice for you.
and it wasn’t a request.
with a hitching breath, you turned, facing into the darkest corner of the cage. you leaned forward, on your hands and knees, grasping the cold bars with one hand, while the other hiked your skirt up your ass.
“fuck.” he immediately let out a soft, hungry sound — it has been a few days since you had sex and he was pent up.
you heard his trousers rustle, and then his hand was there, between the bars, cupping your plush ass. his thumb hooked beneath the lace of your panties, pushing the fabric aside.
and then his fingers were inside you.
“aa-ahh.” you jolted, a cry sticking in your throat at his sudden intrusion. two fingers penetrated you, now pushing and prodding with vigor.
you were not aroused. you were dry as dust.
terrified.
“ah.” he murmured, his fingers scissoring cruelly inside you. “i told you. you’re a terrible liar.” he withdrew his hand for a moment, and there was a figment of hope.
only to hear the sound of him spitting into his palm. “but a lie has consequences.”
his eyes never left yours as his hand returned to the gaps in the bars. “so let’s try this again, pipsqueak. you said you wanted it. said you needed it. let’s see if i can make it true.”
he pressed his fingertips against lace and flesh, and this time he didn’t just push. he hooked them deep inside, dragging his spit-slick skin across the thin lace of your panties as he reached inside. your body convulsed with a sharp, unwelcome jolt as he hit deep, and a slow, humiliating dampness began to gather between your legs at his thrusts.
“aha.” he hummed, a low vibration of perverted appreciation. “there it is. there’s my pretty girl’s truth.” he curled his fingers inside your cunt, precise and clinical, scissoring them until you couldn’t help the shiver of arousal — and something else — that shook your spine.
“you’re responding. better than i thought.”
he withdrew his hand again, and you felt the cold air rush where he’d been, brushing your bare pussy. “don’t move.” he ordered, his voice cutting across the silence.
you remained frozen, tensed for what came next.
was he gonna leave you? was he–
you heard him spit again. a loud, leisurely sound, followed by the spatter of his saliva hitting the bars, the floor.
“spread wider.” he commanded sharply, and when you only hunched further away from him, he snapped. his hand shot through, grabbed the lace edge of your panties and yanked you back to him.
rendering you completely bare now that your underwear were torn.
“you don’t listen anymore.” he tutted, and you heard the rustle of his uniform as he leaned closer. “that’s okay. i’ll make you.”
then the cold, wet cloud of his spit slapped against your slit, already sensitive and responsive. you jerked in place, a gasp torn from you at the feeling of his sticky saliva.
and he did it again. and again.
“so wasteful…” he mused, spitting once more, this time letting the superfluous saliva drip down your inner thighs and onto the floor. “dirty girl! a little bitch in heat, dripping all over my fingers just to escape.”
his fingers returned, this time coated not just in spit but in the shiny arousal that had dried on his palm from earlier, making it all more disgusting. he drew it across your exposed flesh, smearing the juices back onto your clit, mixing it with the fresh dripping arousal he was forcing from you.
“i will let you walk freely around the house, but only when my cum is deep inside you. hm, how about that? you’ll be so full of me.”
and with that he fucked two fingers inside you again, this time smooth and swift. the friction has improved, now lubed by your neediness and his spit; your body, betraying you as completely as he had, clenched around him with desperation.
he pumped his hand fast, breathing sharply with the effort.
“you like it.” he growled, breathing hot against the bars near your ass. “your cunt is drooling all over my knuckles. sucking me in. you’re making a mess like a cheap whore.”
your panties, torn to the side, barely hanging on your inner thigh, were indeed drenched now, a dark, humiliating stain plastered against your skin. he hooked a spare finger into the broken fabric, rubbing it against your hardened clit.
“i should’ve spared them. make you wear them as my cum drips out of you.”
“s-shit.”
ignoring your muffled moans and whimpers, he removed his fingers and stared at them, admiring the glistening arousal he coaxed out of you. he brought them to his lips and licked them clean — now that there was something he could feast on, his eyes closing in a parodic mockery of ecstasy.
“so sweet. so you. even like this, disgusting and betraying, you taste like mine.”
your stomach churned, humiliation burning like acid in your throat. something else in your tummy twisted too. you were close — too close — to the edge of a climax you didn’t want, provoked by nothing more than his degradation.
“pl-lease…” you whimpered, before you could stop yourself; not even you knew what you were begging for.
“please what?” he whispered, a vicious kindness tinging his voice. “please let you cum? is that it, pipsqueak? you feel so guilty for being this gross, you want me to give you permission?”
he shook his head, a false pity dancing on his features. “no. you don’t get to cum like this.”
no further questioning was possible as you felt it.
“fu-fuckk.”
the head of his cock pressed against you, blunt and hot. no condom in sight. he pushed in at once, and there was a tearing, stinging pain as he forced his way inside your underprepared cunt. you screamed, the sound raw and broken in the quiet room, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held onto the bars for dear life.
“shhh.” he soothed, his hands gripping your hips through the bars, his thumbs digging into your meaty flesh. “you asked for this. you wanted this.”
he started to move, and each thrust was a punishment, a claiming stroke that shook the cage and you altogether. the bars dug into your palms with each thrust; your knuckles were white where you grasped them, clasping at them as if the bars could save you.
“you are mine.” he growled, his pace brutal yet disciplined, hips meeting yours through the tight gaps in hurried juts. “every part of you. every breath. every heartbeat. no one else will ever have you. no one else will ever know you like i do.”
tears blurred your vision fully. the pain had become a distant, numb thing, as pleasure consumed you entirely. you felt detached, floating above yourself as your childhood friend and boyfriend ravaged you like an enemy.
“say it.” he demanded, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, a clear sign he would finish soon. “say you’re mine.”
your voice was a rasp, bouncing around the rattling cage. “’m you-rs.”
“say you’ll never look at anyone else.”
“–nev-r lo-ok a-nyo-lse–”
“say you love me.”
your throat closed. the words froze on your tongue, plagued by the harshness of his thrusts.
oh, you were doing so well…
he drove into you again and again, harder, and a new type of pain lanced through your core as his cock kissed your cervix. “say it.”
“i love you.” you finally whimpered, and it felt like a part of your soul cracked and fell away with this confession.
he groaned, a low, triumphant sound, and you felt him pulse deep inside you, his cum hot and persistent as it took shelter in your tummy.
for a long moment, he hung there, breathing heavily against the bars. then he pulled out. and the abrupt emptiness made you crumble to the floor of the cage.
he tucked himself back in, then crouched once more, looking at you through the gaps. you couldn’t meet his eyes. you couldn’t move as cum slowly oozed out of your abused cunt.
perfect.
“good girl.” he whispered, his voice tender again, like a lover’s. “you earned it.” he reached through, his hand gently tilting your chin up, his fingers brushing at your tear-stained face. “i’ll let you out in the morning. we’ll have breakfast in bed, like a normal couple.”
he paused.
“but not outside.” he straightened, smile dropping for a second. “not until i breed you for the whole world to see.”
you curled into a ball on the cushions, your body aching, your mind a blank, terrified white as caleb continued to caress you.
you had asked for freedom. he had given you this instead.
and you knew, in the pit of your stomach, that the cage was not the metal one.
meanie caleb who holds you down in a mating press !
all of your senses were currently being consumed by caleb. he holds you down, knees pressed all the way up to your chest. his body presses down on you, his weight is heavy but comforting. enveloping you in your own little world, everything you see, touch, and hear, is only caleb.
"fuuuck, this pretty pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" he grunts into your ear.
you can't find it in you to give a coherent response, it's a struggle. breathy whimpers are the only thing you can muster out.
he lets out a small chuckle, "i asked you a question, sweets." his hand moves between your legs to pinch at your clit.
his actions send a jolt through your body and you let out a yelp, "ah- yes all for you 'leb!"
"thaaat's it, good job." his fingers let go of their hold, releasing your poor clit, opting to trace small delicate circles instead. like he's praising you for answering him.
hot wet kisses are placed all over your neck. heat curls up in your lower abdomen while caleb is busy moving his hips back and forth into your cunt. it feels so good but you can't help but lose strength in your legs that he has pinned up.
you whimper and try to adjust his hold on you, moving your legs to see if he'll let you put them down. his lips that were just leaving kisses, begin to bite down. teeth biting down on your soft skin, then using his tongue to sooth over the red marks.
"oh no no no." he whispers into your neck. "gotta keep your legs up baby."
"can't! m'tired hahh." you barely muster up the energy to tell him.
caleb's pace doesn't relent, hips furiously slamming into yours. suddenly you hear a whoosh and caleb looks down on you with a smug smile on his lips.
his evol pins you in place, locked in a mating press.
"you're not done until i say so." he muses as he touches his forehead to yours. his eyes stare at yours, hooded, as he uses his evol to control your body to his whim. the thought of him having full control over your body sends heat to your core.
he continues to rock into you, rolling his hips with precision. hitting the spongy spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. with one deep thrust, his evol took control of your hands, pinning them above your head. his body pressed down further, roughly plunging in and out.
with a few more movements, the coil began to snap. you and caleb groaning in tandem as release creeping over the two of you. you cry out caleb’s name as you climax.
the two of you pant, catching your breath. it’s silent, as you both bask in the afterglow. but it's broken when caleb cheekily whispers,
“shall we see what other positions i can keep you in?”
incl. nsfw/suggestive content 17+, fluff, nicknames (pipsqueak, baby, beautiful), praise, soft dom caleb (?), nudity, non-descriptive allusions to sex
if you weren't so blissed out, you'd be wondering how the ravenous beast that had just been all over you is the same man caring for you so gently now.
you're still sticky with remnants of him when he flips you both over carefully, pulling you on to his warm, broad chest as he wraps his arms around you.
"did so good for me, baby, so good." caleb murmurs, praising you his second nature, especially at times like this. "you okay?" it's a quiet but familiar check-in, and you hum affirmatively and nod, eyes fluttering shut as you soak in his warmth. even though you hate the grey of winter, you think you could go a while without seeing the sun as long as he's there.
"words, pips, need to hear you say it." he asks again, soft but firm in his quiet demand, his fingers working soothing circles into the bare skin of your back.
"'m good. y'always make me feel so good." your voice cracks on your words, throat a little dry from a long night's activities, but he can feel your sincerity, your whole aura blurred at the edges where you're curled in his arms but glowing, warm and bright and soft and it has him awestruck. he'll spiral if he's not careful, but can that really be a bad thing if it's brought on by the beauty of the sight of his most beloved in his arms?
"good." he whispers, planting a kiss to your hair as he holds you tighter. you nuzzle into him, letting out a long, low hum, and it feels like you're a cat purring on his chest.
he lets the quiet stretch for just a little bit before stirring, though not long enough that you're likely to have fallen asleep quite yet. when he does try to shift you off of him, though, you whine in protest, hands pawing at him in attempt to grip on to something, anything to make him stay.
"need to clean you up, beautiful, i'll be back in a second, i promise. is that okay?" he asks softly,
you let out an unhappy sound before eventually conceding and releasing him. true to his word, he's back in moments with a warm damp cloth and some pyjamas.
"arms up, baby." he requests, pulling your (his) shirt down over your head so you won't get cold. "that's it. comfy?" he checks, features lighting up even in the dark with a soft smile when you nod. then, he pushes the duvet out of the way, carefully prying open your sticky thighs so he can clean you of the mess you've made together. you let out a tiny whimper, your body tensing when he brushes your still-tender clit with the cloth. the combination of the contact, the slight chill of the night air and lingering sensitivity makes you twinge - he kisses the soft skin at the inner side of your knee.
"sorry. almost done." caleb murmurs, drying off your skin before gently pulling on the softest pair of shorts he could find. "lift your hips f'me, there we go." he slides a hand under your lower back to help you get into your shorts, briefly lifting your shirt to leave a smattering of kisses on your tummy. it tickles a little, especially when his hair brushes your skin, too, making you let out a sleepy giggle before he tucks you under the duvet. he pulls on his own shorts, forgoing a shirt in favour of body heat and the unobstructed contact he so deeply craves with you, even right now.
then, he's pulling you close to him, hands roaming under your shirt, holding firm like he's trying to fuse with you. he can feel your heartbeat hammering hard through you where he wraps his arms around your middle, and he's sure you can probably feel his, too, heat blooming from his chest and enveloping you while he does the same with his arms.
you snuggle into him, curling up like a cosy little bird in its nest as you squish yourself backwards into the safety of his chest, letting out a warm, happy hum as you get comfy. caleb isn't even sure if you know you're doing it, or that you do it every time he's holding you like this. and you definitely don't know that it's one of his favourite things about being the big spoon.
his heart does that thing where it does a million somersaults, dives, flips, rolls, or whatever is is that olympic gymnasts or divers or ice-skaters do - he's not sure exactly what in the haze, but he knows that butterflies are swarming his stomach, so strong he's sure you can feel them too.
and who can blame him, really? it's not his fault that his girlfriend gives him heart-shaking cuteness aggression.
he channels it by giving you a just-about controlled squeeze, strong arms wrapping tight around you and making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. home, your brain whispers to you, and despite the daze of sleepiness and exertion, it's achingly clear. he feels like safety, feels like home.
"goodnight, pipsqueak. i love you. sweet dreams." he murmurs, kissing the nape of your neck tenderly, a couple of times and then once for good measure before he's tucking his head close against yours where he rests on the pillow, the soothing scent of your hair sending a serenity through his mind that feels like fresh air.
"g'night, caleb, i love you, too." you whisper, sleep creeping through your voice as you bring your hands to rest over his, your fingers curling loosely around his larger ones.
and as ever, sleep comes without a fight when caleb's holding you close.
a/n: hiya hope you enjoyed! sitting here wishing i had a caleb so he could take care of me so sweetly after wrecking me but i dont so heres how we cope </3 anyways sry if this is inaccurate or just straight dogshit im afraid of both men and sex irl
Synopsis: Yeah, that stranger from the gloryhole booth? Turns out he's got military pull and a possessive streak a mile wide. Yes, he'll shut down your whole world to claim you. No, escape isn't on the menu once his obsession kicks in.
A/n: got a little lost in the sauce with this one....
The dim neon glow of the adult arcade flickered through the grimy windows as Colonel Caleb Xia pulled his cap low over his brow, slipping into the shadows of the back alley entrance. With a chest full of medals and a face that graced Farspace Fleet briefings on national TV, he couldn't afford scandals. But the weight of command, the endless strategy sessions, the lives hanging on his decisions, had left him frayed, his body humming with unspent tension. Tonight, he needed release, anonymous and raw, no strings, no faces.
He'd heard about this place from a discreet whisper in the officers' club, a seedy spot where men like him could vanish into the night. The gloryhole booth was tucked in the far corner, a narrow stall with a hole carved at waist height, shrouded in anonymity. Caleb locked the door behind him, heart pounding as he unzipped his jeans, his thick cock already half-hard from anticipation. He fed a few bills into the slot, and the partition hummed to life.
On the other side, you waited, knees on the padded floor, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down your spine. You'd come here for the rush, the power of being desired without the mess of expectations. The hole revealed a glimpse of tanned skin and a hardening shaft– impressive, veined, and throbbing with need. You licked your lips, leaning in to tease the tip with your tongue, swirling slow circles around the head.
Caleb groaned, low and guttural, his hands bracing against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough from years of barking orders. Your mouth was warm, eager, sucking him in deeper with each bob of your head. He thrust gently at first, testing the waters, but the sensation built like a storm– your lips stretching around his girth, tongue flicking the underside. He was bigger than most, filling your throat as you relaxed, taking him to the hilt.
He couldn't see you, but he imagined– soft curves, hungry eyes. "That's it, take it all," he rasped, hips bucking harder. The anonymity fueled him; no repercussions, just pure, filthy pleasure. But as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with expert pressure, he felt the edge approaching too soon. He pulled back slightly, breathing heavy, but you chased him, your hand wrapping around the base through the hole, stroking in tandem with your mouth.
"Goddamn, you're good," he growled, his control slipping. The stress melted away with each wet slurp, replaced by a fire that demanded more. He came hard, spilling down your throat in hot pulses, your swallowing milking every drop. But as he softened slightly, the ache didn't fade– it intensified. He was still hard, still needy. He slapped the partition. "Don't stop," he demanded, voice edged with command. "I need more."
You smiled around him, licking his tip clean, aroused by his desperation. Wiping your mouth, you stood, turning to press your ass against the hole, hiking up your poor excuse for a skirt. No panties– just slick, bare pussy, dripping from the taste of him. You guided his cock to your entrance, sinking back slowly, a moan escaping as he stretched you wide.
Caleb's eyes widened in the dim light. "Holy shit," he breathed, gripping the edges of the partition. You were tight, hot, clenching around him like a vice. He thrust forward, burying himself deep, the angle perfect for hitting that spot inside you. The booth shook with his rhythm, skin slapping against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly. Your hand slipped between your legs, circling your clit, chasing your own peak.
"You're so fucking wet," he panted, pace callous. "Take it, all of it." Sweat beaded on his forehead, his military-honed body driving into you with precision. He couldn't get enough– the way you pushed back, grinding, your muffled cries spurring him on. The risk, the rawness– it was intoxicating.
You came first, walls fluttering around him, soaking his cock as waves crashed over you. Caleb followed seconds later, groaning as he filled you, hips jerking erratically. But even as he pulled out, spent and slick, his body hummed for more. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, knowing he'd be back– already craving the stranger who matched his fire.
The days blurred into a haze of briefings and bullshit for Colonel Caleb Xia. That night at the gloryhole had been a spark in the dark– anonymous, filthy, and exactly what he'd needed to cut through the tension coiled in his gut like barbed wire. But it hadn't been enough. Not by a long shot. The memory of your tight, dripping pussy clenching around his cock haunted him during staff meetings, making him shift in his seat, his dick twitching at the phantom sensation. He craved more– the risk, the raw hunger, the way you'd taken him without a word, just bodies slamming together through that thin wall.
Two nights later, he was back. He didn't even change from his regalia, yet he still slipped into the arcade like a ghost. The booth called to him, and he locked himself in, feeding bills into the machine with shaking hands. His cock was already straining against his zipper, thick and heavy, veins pulsing with anticipation. He unbuckled swiftly and freed it, stroking slowly, waiting for the signal.
On your side, the thrill hadn't faded either. You'd replayed it in your mind countless times. The gruff voice barking commands, the girth that stretched you to your limits, the hot flood of his cum filling you up, were all ample fuel for your own self explorations.
Tonight, you were ready, dressed in nothing but a short robe that you shrugged off as soon as the partition activated. Kneeling, you peered through the hole, heart racing at the sight of him: rock-hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. You didn't hesitate when it pushed through the opening, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard, tongue lashing the slit to taste his saltiness.
"Fuck yes," Caleb growled, his hips jerking forward. "Suck it like you mean it." Your mouth was a vacuum, cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. Drool spilled down your chin, mixing with his pre-cum, as you bobbed faster, one hand cupping his balls through the hole, rolling them gently while the other stroked what wouldn't fit. He was massive, forcing your jaw wide, but the ache only made you wetter, your thighs slick already with arousal.
He thrust into your mouth, fucking your face with military precision. Cock sliding in deep, relentless strokes that made your eyes water. "Choke on it," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Take every inch." You did, relaxing your throat until your nose pressed against the wall, his pubes tickling through the gap. The booth reeked of sex, the wet gluck-gluck of your sucking echoing obscenely. He came with a muffled roar, flooding your mouth, cum spilling from the corners as you swallowed greedily, milking him dry.
But he didn't soften. "Not done," he panted, pulling out only to slap his still-hard cock against the hole. "Turn around. I want that sweet pussy again."
You stood, legs shaky, and backed up to the hole, spreading your cheeks to expose your soaked folds. "Fuck me," you whispered, the first words you'd spoken, voice husky and needy.
Caleb didn't need asking twice. He lined up and slammed in, burying himself balls-deep in one severe thrust. You cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, your walls fluttering around his invading girth. "Tight as fuck," he grunted, pulling back to ram in again, the partition rattling with the force. His hands gripped the edges, knuckles white, as he set a punishing pace of long, hard strokes that bottomed out, his balls slapping against the rim of the hole.
You braced against your wall, one hand reaching back to spread yourself wider, the other diving between your legs to rub your swollen clit. "Harder, Colonel," you moaned, guessing his rank from the authoritative bark in his voice and the jingle of what you thought were a chestful of medals. "Ruin me."
The title sent a jolt through him– fuck, she knew? But the anonymity held, and it only fueled his fire. "You asked for it," he snarled, pounding into you like a machine, hips snapping with enough force to bruise. Your juices squelched with each thrust, dripping down your thighs, the lewd sounds mixing with your whimpers and his grunts. He angled up, hitting your G-spot relentlessly, making stars burst behind your eyelids.
"God, you're soaking my cock," he groaned. "Cum for me– squeeze that pussy." You did, shattering around him, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Walls clamping down, you screamed, body convulsing as waves of pleasure drowned you. Caleb kept fucking through it, prolonging your high, his own building fast.
But he wasn't ready to end it. "Ass," he demanded, voice raw. "Give me your ass."
You hesitated for a split second, then nodded to yourself, lubing him up with your own slick before guiding his tip to your tighter hole. "Slow at first," you breathed, pushing back.
He eased in slowly as requested, the ring of muscle yielding to his thickness. "Fuck, so tight," he hissed, sweat pouring down his back. Once seated, he waited for your signal– a wiggle of your hips– then started moving, shallow thrusts building to deeper ones. The burn turned to bliss, your fingers frantic on your clit as he claimed your ass, stretching you wide.
"Take it all, you dirty girl," he commanded, pace quickening. "I'm gonna fill this hole too." You moaned louder, the fullness overwhelming, pushing you toward another edge. He reached through the hole as best he could, his fingers finding your pussy and plunging in, fucking you in tandem. Your fingers on your clit, his cock in your ass, his fingers curling inside you, they all broke you. You came again, harder, squirting around his fingers, ass clenching rhythmically around his shaft. Caleb lost it, bellowing as he erupted, hot ropes of cum spraying your insides. He pumped through his release, drawing it out until you both trembled.
Pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from you, a filthy sight that had him half-hard again already. "Tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than you. "I'll be back."
You smiled, spent and satisfied, whispering back, "I'll be waiting, Colonel." The game was on– anonymous no more in spirit, but the repercussions?
Still safely walled away.
For now.
He didn’t show the next night. In fact, he had handcuffed himself to his desk that evening and tossed the key across the office, stuck until the morning cleaning crew came in. "Self control"
Colonel Caleb Xia stared at the grainy security footage on his laptop, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. It had been a week since that second mind-blowing encounter at the gloryhole, and the obsession had sunk its hooks deep into his soul. The way you'd whispered "Colonel" through the partition, the slick heat of your body yielding to him again and again– it wasn't just sex anymore. It was ownership. No one else could have you. The thought of you on your knees for some other faceless prick in that dingy arcade made his blood boil, a possessive rage twisting in his gut like a live wire. You were his now, whether you knew it or not.
With his rank came perks– connections in intelligence, strings he could pull without questions. First, he made a call to local authorities, citing a "national security concern" about potential illicit activities at the arcade. By morning, the place was shuttered, yellow tape crisscrossing the doors, owners scrambling under investigation for fabricated violations. No more gloryholes. No more anonymous fucks. That chapter was closed.
Next, he dug deeper. A discreet request to his tech team pulled the arcade's CCTV feeds– hacked quietly, no traces left. He fast-forwarded through hours of footage until he spotted you: the curve of your hips as you entered the booth, the sway of your ass that he recognized from the way it had ground back against him. Facial recognition software did the rest, cross-referencing public databases until it spat out your name, address, everything. You. Beautiful, elusive. You. His cock twitched just thinking about it. He sent for you immediately– a black SUV with tinted windows pulling up to your door, two stern-faced adjutants delivering a sealed envelope: "Report to Colonel Xia's office at 0800 hours. Urgent matter."
You arrived at the base gates precisely on time, heart pounding as guards waved you through after checking your ID. What the hell was this? The arcade shutdown had hit the local news, but you never imagined it connected back to him– the gruff, commanding voice from the other side of the wall. But it was all far too coincidental. Escorted to his office in a nondescript building, you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was starkly military: polished steel desk piled with classified folders, walls adorned with maps on screens and commendations, the faint scent of gun oil and authority hanging in the air.
Caleb rose from his chair, his uniform crisp, medals gleaming under the fluorescent lights. At 6'2", broad-shouldered and chiseled from years of rigorous training, he was even more imposing in person– dark hair slicked back, piercing violet eyes that raked over you like he was memorizing every inch. "Sit," he commanded, voice low and gravelly, the same one that had growled filthy praises through the hole. You obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his desk, your pulse racing.
"You're the one," he said, circling around to lean against the desk in front of you, arms crossed. "The girl from the arcade. Don't deny it– I know." His gaze softened just a fraction, but there was a dark edge to it, possessive and unyielding. "I've been thinking about you non-stop. That tight little pussy, the way you took me... but I can't have you sharing that with anyone else. It's mine now. You're mine."
You swallowed hard, a mix of fear and arousal flooding your veins. "What do you want from me, Colonel?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, but there was a breathy undertone, remembering the feel of him stretching you, especially now that you saw how handsome he was.
He reached out, his large hand cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "Everything. Starting now." The conversation lingered there, charged with tension– he asked about your life, your desires. His eyes analyzed every expression that crossed your face, while listening intently to your voice, savoring the timbre like fine whiskey. "Your voice... it's even sexier than I imagined," he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. "Soft, but with that edge of need. And your face– fuck, you're stunning. Those eyes, begging to be ruined."
He stood then, pulling you to your feet with ease, his hands roaming slowly over your shoulders, down your arms. "Let me see you. All of you." His fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it inch by agonizing inch, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, the dip of your navel. He paused to trace circles there with his fingertips, watching goosebumps rise. "Perfect," he whispered, voice husky with reverence and hunger. The shirt came off over your head, tossed aside, revealing your bra. He unclasped it with expert precision, letting it fall as his eyes devoured your bare breasts– pretty, nipples already pebbling in the cool air.
"God, these tits... I've dreamed about them," he growled, cupping them gently at first, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, making you gasp. He bent down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent. His hands slid lower, hooking into your pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion. He knelt briefly to help you step out, his breath hot against your thighs, eyes locked on the glistening folds between your legs. "Your body is a fucking masterpiece. Every curve, every inch– mine, all mine…”
Rising, he lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, papers scattering unnoticed as he laid you back, your legs dangling over the edge. He spread your thighs wide, settling between them on his knees, his uniform brushing against your skin. "I've waited too long for this… since I licked you off my fingers and tasted heaven," he murmured, breath ghosting over your exposed pussy. He started slow, agonizingly so– his tongue flicking out to trace the outer lips, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal. "So wet already... tastes like heaven." He parted you with his fingers, exposing your clit, and circled it with the flat of his tongue, lazy laps that built heat gradually.
You arched, moaning softly, but he held your hips down with strong hands, forcing you to feel every deliberate stroke. He dipped lower, tongue delving into your entrance, fucking you shallowly with it, lapping up your juices like a man starved. "Mmm, so sweet," he groaned against you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. He sucked gently on your folds, then returned to your clit, alternating between soft suckles and slow, swirling licks, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, begging incoherently. He savored every twitch, every gasp, his eyes flicking up to watch your face contort in ecstasy.
Only when you were on the brink did he pull back, kissing his way up your body. His mouth latched onto one breast, sucking the nipple into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and teeth grazing just enough to sting sweetly. He switched to the other, hands kneading the soft flesh, rolling the neglected peak between his fingers. "These tits are perfect for me," he rasped, voice muffled against your skin. "Gonna fuck them now."
He stood, shedding his uniform jacket and shirt quickly, revealing a sculpted chest dusted with dark hair, abs rippling as he freed his massive cock– thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. He straddled your torso on the desk, positioning himself between your breasts. You pushed them together eagerly, enveloping his shaft in soft, warm flesh. He thrust slowly at first, the head of his cock emerging near your mouth with each pump. You leaned forward hungrily, tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum, then sucking it into your mouth as he pushed forward.
"Fuck, yes– suck it while I fuck these tits," he groaned, pace building, hips rocking steadily. The slide was slick from your saliva and his pre-cum, the sensation filthy and intimate. You swirled your tongue around the head each time it breached, hollowing your cheeks to draw him in deeper on the upthrust. His balls tightened, breaths coming in ragged pants. "Gonna cum– swallow it all, baby." He erupted with a raucous hiss, hot spurts painting your tongue and throat as you gulped greedily, not missing a drop, milking him with your mouth and the press of your breasts.
But he wasn't done. Far from it. His cock stayed semi-hard, twitching with residual need. He slid off the desk, sinking into his chair and pulling you with him. "Straddle me," he ordered.
You climbed onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, your dripping pussy hovering over his length. The heat radiating from his cock brushed against your slick folds, a teasing promise that made your inner muscles clench in anticipation. He guided you down slowly, the broad head parting your lips with a slick glide, stretching your entrance wide as he filled you completely. Your pretty velvet walls yielding to his girth, the veins along his shaft dragging against sensitive nerves, sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Buried to the hilt, he held still, your bodies locked in intimate fullness.
"Just sit there, for a few minutes," he murmured, his hand sliding to your lower belly. "Look at how well we fit together…” He pressed harder into the form of him stretching you inside, making you squirm. He stilled his hand quickly, determined to prolong being inside you, to test his self control with you.
How cute.
His fingers brushed a stray lock from your forehead, calluses scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth. He gazed intently into your eyes, violet depths stormy with determination, close enough that you could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, like stars scattered across a rugged sky.
His thick shaft pulsed inside your walls, a rhythmic throb that matched the frantic beat of your heart, but no movement came, just the torturous intimacy of being stuffed full, your juices trickling down to coat his balls where they nestled against your ass. Every subtle shift of your weight sent ripples of sensation through you, your clit grazing the coarse hair at his base, swollen and aching for friction.
“You know I handcuffed myself, just so I wouldn't crawl back to you..” He admitted, his breath hot against your ear, lips brushing the shell as he spoke.
“What?” Your voice came out breathy, the word trembling as another pulse from his cock made your walls flutter involuntarily around him, squeezing in a way that drew a soft hiss from his lips.
“Yeah, I was really…crazy about you…” He looked away, jaw tightening, the muscle there flexing under his stubbled skin, but his hand stayed firm on your tummy, thumbs tracing idle circles over the bulge of his tip inside you, the touch both soothing and maddening.
“A gloryhole girl?” You teasingly questioned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into the firm muscle as you fought the urge to rock against him, the fullness bordering on overwhelming, every inch of him pressing against spots that made your toes curl.
“Yeah..” His gaze flicked back to yours, darker now, pupils eclipsing irises, “I really wanted you to myself..” He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips.
“That’s nice and all…but can..can I move?” You squirmed, your hips twitching despite his grip, the motion causing his cock to shift ever so slightly inside you, a delicious drag that pulled a whimper from your throat and made your thighs tremble against his.
“Not yet..” he shushed with a commanding lilt, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head, exposing your neck. He nuzzled there, lips grazing your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch.
Minutes ticked by, the clock on the wall marking each agonizing second with a soft tick-tock that seemed to echo the throb of him inside you. Your body ached, a deep, insistent burn building from the stillness– clit throbbing against his pubic bone, the wiry hairs there tickling your sensitive nub with every shallow breath you took. Slick gathered where you were joined, warm and sticky, pooling on his skin as your arousal built. You could feel the tension coiling in him too, the way his cock twitches sporadically, swelling just a fraction more, stretching you further. His chest rose and fell faster against your breasts making your nipples harden from the friction of his skin.
You squirmed again, trying to grind down, chasing that elusive spark, but his hand clamped tighter on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you immobile with unyielding strength. The denial only heightened everything. Your walls rippled around him in futile protest, milking him without motion.
"Patience," he whispered, nipping your earlobe sharply, the sting blooming into heat that shot straight to your core, making you clench around him involuntarily. He groaned low in his throat at the sensation, his restraint visibly fraying– eyes blazing with intensity, lids heavy, breaths coming in short, controlled pants as he fought the urge. His cock jumped inside you, a powerful throb that pressed against your G-spot, teasing without relief, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, muscles bunching like coiled springs.
Another minute dragged on, the air heavy with unspoken need, your skin flushing hot, sweat beading along your spine and trickling down to where your bodies met. He shifted minutely, not thrusting but adjusting, the movement making his length nudge deeper, the head kissing your cervix in a way that made stars dance behind your eyelids.
“Mm–”you whimpered softly and his control splintered, piece by piece. His hips rocked once subtly, barely perceptible, yet enough to make you gasp. The sound sends him into a deeper grind, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, circling slowly to build the friction you’d been craving. His eyes locked on yours, drinking in every flicker of pleasure, his expression twisting with hunger he could no longer leash.
"Dammit, can't wait anymore," he growled, voice rough and edged with desperation, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard as he finally gave in. "Need to fuck you.”
He started slow, thrusting up into you with filthy-soft rolls of his hips– deep, languid strokes that dragged along every sensitive ridge inside you. "So tight, so perfect for me," he murmured, lips brushing your neck, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple while the other gripped your ass, guiding your subtle bounces. The pace was sensual, drawn-out, each upward surge making your breasts jiggle, your moans syncing with his grunts.
But the possessiveness built, his thrusts turning harder, faster. "No one else gets this," he growled, standing abruptly with you impaled on him, strong arms supporting your weight. He spun you around, bending you over the desk– ass up, face down on the cool wood. Papers crunched under you as he slammed back in, pounding relentlessly, balls slapping against your clit with each brutal thrust. "You're mine– say it," he demanded, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other spanking your ass sharply, leaving red handprints.
"Yours," you cried out, the coil in your belly snapping as he hit that deep spot over and over, the friction overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed through you, walls spasming around him, juices soaking his cock. He followed with a roar, flooding you with hot cum, claiming you utterly as he collapsed over your back, both of you panting in the afterglow of his obsessive desire.
Caleb's weight pressed down on you, his chest heaving against your back, the mingled sweat of your bodies making your skin stick together in the humid confines of his office. His cock, still semi-hard and buried deep inside your fluttering pussy, twitched with aftershocks. A slow leak of his cum trickling out around where you were joined, warm and sticky as it dripped down your inner thighs. The desk beneath you was a mess of papers scattered and ink smudged from your palms. The cool wood now warmed by the heat of your cheek pressed against it. His breath fanned hot across your neck, ragged and satisfied, but you could feel the tension still thrumming in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed possessively on your hip. He wasn't done. Not even close.
With a low grunt that vibrated through you, he straightened up slowly, his hands sliding along your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise. "That was just the warmup," he rasped, voice dark and edged with that hunger that made your pulse spike anew. His cock slipped free with a wet pop, leaving you empty and aching, a gush of mixed fluids spilling onto the desk. He spun you around to face him, your ass perched on the edge, legs dangling weakly as he towered over you, eyes raking down your flushed, sweat-glistened body like a predator sizing up prey.
"Need you rougher this time," he muttered, more to himself than you, his large hands shoving your thighs apart wider, exposing your swollen, cum-smeared pussy to the cool air. The sting of overstimulation hit as his thumb brushed your clit, circling roughly, not gentle anymore– pressing hard, flicking with enough force to make you jolt and whimper. "Gonna fuck you until every part of you remembers who owns this body." He grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the desk's surface, the wood creaking under the pressure. His free hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, nipping hard enough to leave a mark.
You gasped as he shoved two thick fingers into your pussy without warning, curling them deep and scissoring roughly, stretching you further while his thumb ground against your clit in furious circles. Your hips bucked involuntarily into his hand despite the raw sensitivity. "Look at you, still dripping for me," he snarled, pumping his fingers faster, the heel of his palm slapping against your mound with each thrust. "This cunt is mine– gonna ruin it for anyone else." He added a third finger, your walls clenching around the intrusion as he twisted them, hitting your G-spot with punishing accuracy, forcing a cry from your lips.
"Too much– please– ”
His mouth crashed down on yours then, not a kiss but a claim. Roughly invading your mouth with his tongue, teeth clashing. He bit your lower lip until you tasted the faint copper of blood. He pulled his fingers free abruptly, slick-coated and glistening, and shoved them into your mouth replacing his tongue on yours, forcing you to suck them clean. "Taste us," he commanded, eyes locked on yours as you obeyed, tongue swirling around his digits, the salty tang of cum and arousal flooding your senses. His cock, fully hard again and throbbing angrily against your thigh, left a trail of pre-cum on your skin as he rutted against you.
“Fuck– you're perfect for me....”
He flipped you onto your stomach again, your breasts flattening against the desk, nipples scraping the rough edges of scattered files. He kicked your legs wider, one boot hooking around your ankle to spread you open, vulnerable. "Ass up higher," he barked, slapping your cheek hard– the crack echoing, heat blooming instantly across your skin. You arched as best you could, presenting yourself. He rewarded you with another smack, then another, alternating sides until your ass burned red, each impact jolting through you, making your pussy clench emptily.
He lined up his cock, the head nudging your entrance, but instead of easing in, he slammed forward in one vicious thrust, burying himself to the balls. The force shoved you forward, desk drawers rattling, a stapler clattering to the floor. "Fuck!" you yelped, the stretch bordering on pain, but he didn't give you time to adjust– pulling back almost fully before ramming in again, setting a harsh rhythm. His hips snapped against your ass with skin-slapping intensity, balls swinging to smack your clit on every downstroke, the friction building a fire that made your vision blur.
"Take it," he grunted, one hand fisting into your hair, pulling you into a deeper bend. The other gripped your hip like a vice, pulling you back onto him with each punishing drive. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your back, sliding down your spine as he fucked you relentlessly, the desk groaning under the assault. He leaned over you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you as his cock dragged along your inner walls, veins pulsing, head battering your cervix with every thrust. "Scream for me– let the whole base know you're mine." He held your head back more as he pistoned into you.
Your moans turned to wails, the coil in your belly tightening impossibly as he reached around, fingers finding your clit and pinching hard, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with rough tugs. The overstimulation was exquisite agony, your body trembling, thighs quaking as another orgasm built fast and fierce. He felt it coming, his pace faltering into erratic, deeper jabs. "Cum on my cock– milk me dry," he demanded, spanking you again for emphasis.
Your vision whited out, coming as he ordered, walls convulsing around him in violent spasms. You squirted slick that soaked his thighs and puddled on the floor. He groaned loudly as your pussy clamped down hard around his length, your liquid squirting out and coating his balls and thighs. It's the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen or felt. He roared, thrusting through your climax, prolonging it until you were sobbing, oversensitive and boneless. Only then did he let go, hips stammering as he flooded you again, hot ropes of cum painting your insides, overflowing to drip out of your pussy with each pulse.
He stayed buried for a long moment, both of you panting, his body draped over yours like a possessive cage. Slowly, he pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked from your abused pussy. "Good girl," he murmured, the roughness fading into something softer, though the obsession lingered in his eyes.
Gently now, he scooped you up, cradling you against his chest as he sank back into his chair, your limp form nestled in his lap. His hands, callused but tender, stroked your back in soothing circles, tracing the marks he'd left– the bites, the bruises– with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids, your tear-streaked cheeks. The shift was startling, like a storm giving way to calm.
He reached for a drawer, pulling out a soft blanket– military issue, but clean and warm– and draped it over you both, tucking it around your shoulders. His fingers stroked over your hair, while his other hand rubbed your spanked ass gently, massaging away the sting. "You were perfect," he praised, voice low and reassuring, nuzzling your neck. "No more arcade. No more gloryholes. You're done with that life– I shut it down for good. You'll stay with me now. I'll take care of everything– housing on base, whatever you need. No one touches you but me."
You nestled closer, fucked-out and exhausted, his heartbeat steady under your ear. He fetched a water bottle from his desk, holding it to your lips, encouraging you to sip slowly, then wiped your face with a tissue, cleaning away smudged makeup and drying sweat. "Rest now," he said, rocking you slightly, his arms a secure cage around you. "When you're ready, I'll draw you a bath back at my quarters. Cook you dinner. You're mine to cherish, too– not just fuck." His grip tightened just enough to remind you of the claim beneath his whispers, the kind of hold that blurred the line between protection and permanence, leaving no room for thoughts of escape.
caleb x non mc reader where he's so used to brats because of mc, but then there's you, kind and soft, never asking for anything but willing to always give. he starts to naturally gravitate towards you, like how a sunflower faces the sun. you're so sweet that he wonders if he's developing a sweet tooth like zayne's because he starts craving something sweet every single day or if he's developing some sort of heart disorder because his heart keeps aching around you, but he doesn't seem to mind the odd ache, seems to naturally welcome it even.
and then there's the cuteness aggression. for the first time, caleb can't stay composed, not around you. he just wants to pinch your cheeks, or squeeze you tight, or groan and moan about how adorable you are and it's criminal. plus, every time he's dramatic about it, you giggle, and he practically goes heart eyes and tickles you just to hear it more.
tldr: caleb thought he's a brat lover until he met you :p
