Caleb (/Xia Yizhou/Mahiru) is a virgin. (18+) MDNI headcanons.
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Caleb being NOT a virgin? Impossible. Just impossible. I genuinely dc what anyone else says!! And no, it's not because he doesn't have game or charm.. I mean, just look at Caleb: Stage Observer card! Does he look like he can't have someone in his bed? He absolutely can.
He doesn't want to.
Why the hell would he? When all he wants to get intimate with is YOU?
He really wants you to be his first (and only too!). And wants to be your first (and only) too. Like, he wouldn't find anyone as beatiful or as attractive as you. Not now. Not ever. Has only eyes for you. It's a consumption so deep, that the tought of anyone else disgusts him really.
Which, by the way, is really important to him, that I feel like, he'd do study. I'm being for real. Because, what if you actually agree on being his first!? He CAN'T fail to pleasure you! So he'd study. He'd learn. Everything. (Hoping that he'd pleasure you so good, you wouldn't look for anyone else ever).
He would jerk off a lot too because of it. Untouched, added with.. you doing anything? Or even just existing? Yeah he is desperate. Caleb just can't help it!! Is it so wrong to fantasize about you being his first!? It's the achievement he'd be really happy to have and show off proud the most!
And when the first time finally happens, Caleb would focus on you so much, he'd be all needy, but wouldn't even dare to think about himself. Why would he!? Your pleasure is more important than his! Or he'd cum untouched, I don't see it unlikely. Though when I say untouched, it might be because he was humping to the bed or your leg while eating you out or fingering you before hand.
When Caleb finally pushes in? That's THE moment. Oh, he must be in heaven! It's just.. so.. nice. You are so perfect! It'd take a lot from him to not just claim you. No, no. You come first. And your pleasure.
Already tries to aim at the spots inside that has you moaning his name. The ones that gives the most pleasure.
He wouldn't want to stop at one or two, even if he is spend in the moment himself.
One word: addicted. He couldn't be more than happy to give his first time to you! No one else deserves it.
If there is one thing Caleb’s secret times confirm is that the man talks you through it! The entire time. From start to finish. And that thought melts my brain. I mean, they all do, but CALEB... hmmmmmmmm. Even his Decoherence myth secret times had me in shambles! Cause he does it in this uniquely him narration style.
Then I think about his birthday card and that sex marathon. Just hours and hours of him in your ear telling you he likes it, what you're doing, how you're doing it. And he is going to shower you with praise. Remind you that he is yours, body and soul.
The more i think of it ,the weaker my knees get. He is in your ear. He's so vocal. Even when he works out, he is so vocal. Just moaning and groaning and..... somebody bring a straight jacket right now, PLEASE.
And Caleb’s bedroom voice is so..... Holy Moly 😍. Fiery Embrace had me asking if the massage was in the room with us? Because all I'm hearing is straight-up nasty!
" Thinking you'd be a good girl, i shouldn't have done that." Sir?
" Do you want me to show you the proper way to stretch?" Sir?
" you can go lower if you want." Sir...
" But you're the one who always indulges me. You know the consequences of doing that, don't you?" CALEB!!!!!
" Whatever you're imagining, it will be far more intense and much more passionate." Alright,that's it!
Wrap your big hand around my throat, bend me over, arch my back and destroy me while you narrate your actions thank you very much. And dont you dare stop. Not until I go fully limp underneath you like a rag doll.
Fucking Caleb....
Had me singing this word for word colonel.
Just me looking deep in his galaxy eyes while he SLUTS ME OUT.
Fuck.... I can never keep calm when it comes to Caleb.
brain not braning idk im a Caleb's girl tho so thats just thought i had about their similarities
Sylus and Caleb are for the type of girl who wants to be truly seen.
For girls with the energy of a black cat.
For those who have always had a responsibility.
Who could not allow themselves to show that they were really tired.
For those who are used to keeping a straight face and allow themselves to show their tenderness only in the presence of truly close people. And when this happens, everything begins to play with different colors.
For those who need to have that special place where they can always return.
For those who need to be like behind a stone wall.
For those who climb with their feet up into a chair in the arms of their beloved man and purr with pleasure when they are hugged from behind.
For those who work all night long.
Who forget to eat and fall off their feet from fatigue at the end of the day.
For those who throw their heads back, catching the air currents during a fast ride.
For those who believe that wishes cannot be told, otherwise they will not come true.
For those who dance while cooking in the kitchen to a silly melody on the radio.
For those who find kissing hands or cheeks more intimate than kissing lips.
fluff/angst; Royal!AU, it's late and you're waiting for someone. A thief, after the riches of your family. What Caleb doesn't expect is for you to be the one stealing something this night. And what you don't expect is how easily you fall back into old habits with your childhood best friend, status and royalty forgotten for a single night.
~ 3k words ~ | Masterlists | a/n: my second (belated) bday present to myself sigh i love caleb 👑
The air is cold, your open window inviting winds too similar to your loneliness. The loneliness that was rippled, just last night. Caleb. Light of your childhood, shadow of the castle. The son of a servant who got too close to royal blood, too close to you, and was cast out, never said goodbye, never came back. Until yesterday, but not as a friend. As a thief, breaking through the window, thinking you've left with your family to another castle. But you didn't, wide eyes faced with a ghost from the past.
He recognized you immidiately and so did you. And there was shocked silence, then harsh words, then Caleb back out the window, your angry curses following him. How dare he return? How dare he leave? Again. Your fingers trembled by the window sill and for a second you considered jumping after him, out of spite. Or maybe out of desperation wearing a mask called spite.
But you stayed because that's what royalty does. That's what royalty has always done even if your heart left with the peasant boy over ten years ago. But Caleb's face yesterday brought something back. A heartbeat, a speck of color, a taste you've craved for years. And that damn window, now open is your hope - gaping, inviting, breathing after years of coma.
Caleb curses when he sees it. Why the hell is he even here again, jumping rooftops, dodging guards, cradling hope like an infant. And that forsaken open window... he almost wishes it was closed like last night - to not feel like a dog, who you knew would come back even without a leash. And even without the promise of a treat.
You hold your breath when a shadow slips into your bedroom. Tucked under expensive blankets, you're a fraud even in sleep, eyes closed, muscles relaxed with a certain effort.
Silence, then words, cutting through the night with precision. "You think this is funny?" Caleb knows you're not asleep. Couldn't be. There isn't a world in which you'd leave a damn window open just to sleep then. The fact that you're pretending now makes it worse for the thief. "Leaving the window open like I'm your dog," he steps closer and you don't flinch, "like I'll come crawling because you said so!?"
He clicks his tongue, looking down at your performance, wrapped in too much peace for the turmoil you're causing in Caleb's chest. "You're a damned brat," he huffs like he lost this game already, "pretending to sleep while I lose my mind like some idiot." He cocks his head at you, close enough for you to hear the rasp in his voice, "I am losing my mind, you know?"
Finally, your eye opens, casual, playful, a grin forming like a promise.
"You done? Because if you are, let's go play."
Caleb looks like you slapped and kissed him at the same time. Breathless for a moment too long. How can you say this so casual, so smug, so in control and careless like you two are eight again and nothing matters. Like he didn't climb castle walls for this. Like your history isn't heavy enough to suffocate under.
"You think this is a game?" he snarls, brows furrowed, teeth showing behind strained lips like a threat.
"You quit me like one," you say almost immidiately, your eyes reflecting the pool of emotion you keep hidden. The walls hold their breath like they're listening. But you? You pretend your words weren't carved right below the skin, sitting and stretching, eyes a veil once more.
He's silent now, watching you with muted retreat, gaze wide when you come closer, naked feet tapping over cold floor. Your fingers circle his wrist, a grab that's an order disguised as kindness, a tug like he'd follow you anywhere you ask. He would.
"Come on."
No accusations this time, no expectations, no past that still bleeds. Just play.
You two move through the castle like ghosts, feet dabbing between darkened halls. No torches, no guards. Planned. Caleb can't shake the feeling of walking right into a trap - the open window, the cleared castle, that boyish smile on your face. Yet, he lets you lead him. Wherever you want.
Through cold corridors, hidden doors, the forgotten training yard you two snuck wooden swords from, past doors that hold a million memories finally into the courtyard. Overgrown, the old fountain dry and covered in green, walls cracking and holding as many memoirs as vines. Time has stopped here. Everything is in the places you and Caleb left them, simply withered and wild. If you restored it, nothing would have changed.
Caleb's eyes are on you as you turn, a grin as excited as it is devastating on your lips. "What should we play?"
He wants to say something cruel. Something to remind you this world has shifted into something sinister, all blood and scars now. But in this courtyard, he thinks, it hasn't. It's still the same. Childish. Innocent. Ready to be explored. Caleb's voice cracks only a little with his suggestion. ".... Hide and seek?"
You light up, grinning already. "You count first."
It feels natural when Caleb finally turns and covers his eyes, leaning against a statue of forgotten ancestors, numbers falling from his lips in a long-lost melody. His cheeks threaten a smile when he hears your feet pat pat pat away from him, eight and pure like nothing's different at all.
But everything is. Because this isn't a game. It's a confession. Stay. Find me. I want you to look. I want you to never stop.
The counting stops and so does your breathing, tucked away in the abandoned conservatory, sitting amongst broken glass and curling drapes, a hand clasped over your mouth to keep any sound from spilling, the other holding your knees close to your body. You listen. Closely.
Caleb doesn't move like someone who searches, he moves like someone who already found. Not you, but this. The courtyard, the memories, the play. His hands scour stretching plants, eyes raking over the places he left pieces of himself and rediscovering them. He savors it - the nostalgia. The ache.
And maybe he doesn't yet want to find you. Because what happens when he does scares him.
Every second he's looking for you has you vibrating with joy. The pure kind, where your heart ripples in your chest and flutters right against your ribs, cheeks hurting from containing a wide grin that would transform into helpless giggles if you let it. It tastes like rebellion and childhood and something sweeter you don't want to name. Your limbs feel like they might burst with this energy, each vessel brimming with this bliss.
Caleb's steps keep their pace, every shadow a reminder of your smile, every rustle earning a look, hoping it's you. Because despite this absurdity, Caleb's heart feels light enough for play for the first time since leaving this castle. And without knowing where exactly you are, he speaks, voice carrying through the darkness with ease.
"I remember where you used to hide, pipsqueak. Behind the sundial. In the kitchen pantry. Under the throne - once..." he chuckles, the image still so alive in his mind, "always giggling like your hiding places were jokes writing themselves, I could find you with my eyes closed."
A pause. Footsteps into the conservatory.
"But now you're hiding everything... I wonder why."
His voice is different, yet the way Caleb speaks remains. That amused tilt, that makes it sound like he already knows where you are, just wanting to see how long you'll keep him looking. Your stomach rolls with freshly hatched butterflies of caterpillars that have been living in your guts for way too long. You feel like a child again, ready to burst out when Caleb finds you, laugh and giggle into his face, accuse him of cheating - playfully so. Ready to run and be chased, make up rules and worlds like you two are Gods.
You can only tag me if you say my full name first! You have to jump on one foot! No powers! And Caleb will groan and roll his eyes but never lose his smile and never once break any of your rules. And you'll laugh like nothing's broken. Like hearts don't break.
Suddenly, footsteps. Near. The room holds his breath. Then words, so close you feel them on your skin. "Got you."
You gasp, body still, eyes wide and for a moment you forget how to exist. Caleb's fingers brush the curtain and you bolt, exploding from the shadows, laughing, bare feet on marble and silk trailing after you like whispers. "Cheater!" You call breathless, laughing, not looking back when he chuckles in response. Caleb's there, right by your heels, years of fighting for survival making him enticingly superior to your royally pampered body. And yet, he doesn't catch you.
Because this is everything he's been craving, your laugh, the lightheartedness he can allow his feet, not driven by survival instinct but by a game. Your game. He allows you to get away, think you're being clever, turning corners, and rediscovering secret passages until he's no longer behind you at all.
You veer into an abandoned ballroom, breathless, triumphant. "Ha! You've gotten slower-"
You run right into Caleb's chest. Big, solid, smirking.
"I let you win, you know?" he claims, his eyes gleaming bright purple.
You blink up at him, stunned, your hands caught on his chest mid-collision. The air is thick, both of you out of breath, high on the thrill. Your chests rise and fall with each other, breeding a tension that spreads.
"Liar," you breathe and Caleb leans closer, closer, still that damn smirk on his lips like he won a prize you didn't offer.
"Still caught you."
There's silence, tension, then movement so small you barely register. Your eyes aren't focused on contact but cast lower. Lips. Your heart stutters, and you realize what's happening before Caleb does, your brain jerking back to life like it's been shocked.
"My turn," you force the grin before it comes naturally, bursting the tension like an overripe cherry. Your words are simple, confident, silly. But they shake Caleb's confidence for more than a second.
Lifting both hands to your face, you cover your eyes like a child - like you still believe that play can exist between you two. "One... two... three..."
Caleb doesn't move at first, simply stares and maybe there's a hint of awe crossing his features. Maybe. Then, he moves. Moves like the world just started breathing again.
Your fingers cover your eyes just enough to make the peeking not obvious. Smiling like you own the world, letting the numbers slip too fast on purpose. "Four, five, six..." your eyes catch Caleb vanish into a side hall, quiet and graceful as the wind. And you move, small careful steps before you're supposed to take them.
Because Caleb never realized you notice more than you let on, always have. Knowing his patterns like they're your own, the shadows he gravitates to, the nooks he'd prefer over others. Your feet carry you over the floor, numbers finished.
"Hmmm, where could he be," your voice carries through the night with playful melody, feigning cluelessness while your eyes follow the exact path you know he took, the faintest ripples in curtains, disturbed dust on the floor, the heartbeat in sync with yours.
Caleb thinks he's hidden, leaning against a crumbling pillar, way too confident you're off looking somewhere else. The shadow of a smirk lingers. He turns, trying to locate you when suddenly your voice is right there, next to him. "Found you." The grin is stupidly obvious on your tongue.
Then, a finger, pressing into the warm flesh of his shoulder, "Tag." Another smile. "You're it."
You don't get to run this time because Caleb rotates without hesitation and grabs your wrist before you can even retreat it from his shoulder. A gasp falls from your lips, gentle, royal, like a secret wish granted, and your smile falters only at the edges.
The contrast between you and Caleb is as clear as the moon in the sky now. You - elegant, regal, glowing with practiced regency, deserving of highest worship by blood alone. And the thief - calloused, hard around the edges, wild and determined, looking into your eyes like you're a prize he's about to win.
"I wasn't ready yet," a giggle turning into a whine. Then, a pout. Perfectly practiced, exaggerated, dripping with weaponized affection. "You didn't let me run, Caleb. What kind of game are you playing?"
He scoffs, his fingers no longer holding you captive, but close like a boy finding something thought lost. Your pout doesn't crack his tough exterior, yet behind his moving eyes, he's taking you in - really taking you in. Your face has changed so much, each expression sharpened and practiced, perfectly polished for court and swooning the masses. The heir to a throne through and through. And yet, you're still the same. The child who stole pastries and took them to the stables to share with Caleb. The child who whispered "I don't care what they say, you're mine too," under forts built from silk sheets.
He leans closer once more, meeting your pout with a smirk, his voice a low murmur, a reminder how grown he is, fully adult, fully man with that rasp and danger clinging to his words. "Maybe, I want to play a different game, your Highness."
You tilt your head, eyes curious, cheeks feeling secretly warm.
"If you can play royalty," he sighs almost like talking relieves him of something settled deep down in his chest, "then I'll play the peasant." He smiles now - curious, boyish, excited. Not like someone who broke into a castle twice. "What'cha say, my (prince/ss)?" A game. A promise. A dare.
You straighten your posture, muster Caleb, your pout fading like mist. You don't like the shift, don't like the suggestion. It's tense, takes the strings right out of your hands and tilts the stage, robs you of the childlike wonder you've been conjuring. But something about Caleb makes it hard to say no. And something about yourself makes you want to see where this leads. You lift your chin, adjust your posture, easily learned since infanthood. You don't say it, but Caleb knows. Game on.
The smile on Caleb's face shifts, no longer nostalgic but filled with curiosity. What has time done to you? What are you hiding under all that control, strapped to you like armor?
Finally, your wrist is released and Caleb dips his head and bends one knee, bowing to you. Mocking? His words sound like a tease, yet delivered a little too sincere for the roleplay he chose. "Your Highness."
You don't respond, don't even blink. Yet there is a smile. Small. But enough. You play, and you do it good. You play like you have something to prove. Caleb's hair feels soft as ever when you lay your palm over it like a blessing. "Peasant," you say, familiar, practiced, flawless in your role. This scene could be framed in statues. But it isn't. It's just you and Caleb, flesh and bone and memories.
Caleb lifts his head - only slightly, not enough to break the illusion but enough to see you standing above him. You look like carved from marble, perfect and cold, a face only an artist could muster. And beneath your hand, he breathes, deep, shaky, human.
"You play dirty."
"How is this playing dirty?" Your voice is quiet, out of character. Your pose stays. Like you're two actors refining a scene. Two writers finding the flaws in their story. You realize how distant Caleb seems. How little you know of each other now.
He exhales through his nose like the answer is obvious, his shoulders sinking. "Because you remember how I used to look at you when you did that." He rises now, slowly, not to break the scene but to balance the power between you - two equals in a scene crafted out of imbalance. Your hand remains. "Feels like you're trying to make me fall for something I already mourned" His mouth twitches into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Or maybe you missed having someone who remembers you before all that gold." It's not an accusation, not hatred. Just ache. Pure and old as time.
Your hand slips, but not away. Closer. Over his cheek, cradling his roughened features. "There is no me without gold." It's sober. Melancholic in a way. You still feel like you're trapped on a stage, but now there is no audience. Just Caleb.
And he feels it, the weight of your words, of being forced into a role and taking it on for survival alone. He lifts his hand, calloused, carved with hard work and life, lays it over yours, holding you close to his cheek. "Then maybe," his voice is like gravel, holding a sincere kind of lightheartedness only Caleb can carry, "I'll have to steal you too. Since I'm already here." The thief's lips twitch, not jokingly or with wicked intent, but with hope. Yearning.
A smile, involuntary but unbeatable. A twinkle of your eye. Your finger twitching against Caleb's cheek. Then, back to play.
"How would you steal me, peasant?" Not mean. Curious. Accepting of the offer and what came with it. Because now, close and familiar with the boy of your childhood, maybe you're not ready to see him leave a third time. Maybe for once, royalty can wait. For once, you choose the commoner with every flaw and every risk clinging to his skin. Because he came back tonight. He let you lead him through a castle to a place that could have held his execution. And he played like time never passed, in an era where crowns seemed too far away to be worn with sincerity. And a kiss didn't promise the world. But now it will.
