Author's Note: I was feeling soft and mushy today instead of lewd and smutty—so you’re getting clingy, lovesick Caleb. I promise the debauchery will return, but for now? Enjoy the fluff. (Artist & Original Post)
not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!
✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖
Caleb does not give a fuck about PDA. Not even a little. In fact, he seems personally offended by the idea of not touching you at all times, like physical contact is the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth. (Ironic for someone who has a gravity manipulation evol, I know.)
You're the PDA couple in line for amusement park rides. The ones people pretend not to stare at while Caleb leans over you with his chin on your head, swaying side to side like you’re his favorite song. His hands are somewhere on you: around your waist, in your back pockets, or just flat on your stomach like he’s claiming territory.
At the grocery store? You’re trying to compare pasta sauces and he’s behind you, arms looped around your hips like you're the most fascinating shelf in the store. You shift a step to the left; he shuffles with you like you’re in a three-legged race. A lady clears her throat behind you in the aisle and Caleb, unbothered, just kisses the back of your neck and asks if you want the spicy marinara.
Friends have stopped commenting. You sit on Caleb’s lap like it’s your assigned seat. He hooks his chin over your shoulder during game nights, one hand playing with your fingers under the table while the other deals cards like nothing’s out of the ordinary.
He once tried to hold your hand during a dentist appointment.
“You don’t even have any cavities,” you hissed.
“I missed you,” he said, two feet away.
You’re not even sure he knows he’s doing it anymore. It’s second nature to him, an unconscious act. Caleb waited so long for you. There’s no going back. You’re doomed.
His gym routine has become a team sport. Caleb loves—loves—when you sit on his back while he does pushups. He’ll drop to the floor, slap the space between his shoulder blades, and go, “C’mon, Pips, get on. I need motivation.” You try to be serious about it, but he starts grinning the second you're up there like it’s the best part of his workout. And God help you if you cheer him on; he’ll do twice as many, just to impress you.
Doomed to forehead kisses in traffic. Doomed to shared straws and linked pinkies while you walk. Doomed to being the human equivalent of a teddy bear he refuses to put down.
gamer caleb whose skilled fingers glide smoothly over the keyboard, controlling his character with pinpoint precision, and has proven those skills on you in more ways than one, leaving you breathless.
gamer caleb who struggles to stay silent while gaming with friends on his PC, your lips wrapped around him under the desk, sucking him off with slow, deliberate precision.
gamer caleb who lets out a soft whimper, quickly covering it with a cough for damage control. His friends ask, “you okay, bro?” He forces a grin, “yeah, I’m… great!” but chokes when you take him deeper, tongue swirling over the slit of his cockhead. “You’re playing like shit, dude!” his friends laugh, while chat asks if he’s under the weather.
gamer caleb whose viewers simp over his hands. “Nice hands, you say?” He holds them up to the camera, smirking mischievously, recalling how they gripped your throat while pounding you into his bed last night.
gamer caleb who’s careful to keep your relationship private, but one day, after he spends 6-7 hours gaming, you crash his stream, craving his attention.
gamer caleb whose live chat explodes at your appearance, flooding with questions that nearly crash the stream. He’s not mad, just surprised, and smirks, “hello chat, meet my pipsqueak girlfriend.”
gamer caleb whose chat fills with thirsty messages from girls. You roll your eyes, kissing his cheek while smirking at the camera, your silent message clear: you’ll never be me.
gamer caleb who plays with you on his lap, all dressed up pretty, his fingers running through your hair. He controls the mouse with one hand while the other massages your waist and hips.
gamer caleb whose hand slips between your thighs, groping the soft flesh possessively. “You guys want me to touch her? Sorry, wrong stream! Visit other websites!” he chuckles, shaking his head, though he’s fighting the urge to snap his hips up, your gummy walls sucking his dick in so deliciously.
gamer caleb who can’t tell his viewers you’re cockwarming him during the stream, so he shifts slightly in his seat, the bulbous head of his cock grinding against your cervix. “Yeah? I love my girlfriend :3,” he says, voice strained but playful.
gamer caleb who loves the thrill of almost getting caught, your quiet moans muffled against his shoulder as he grinds into you during a “bathroom break,” his viewers none the wiser.
it started as a casual afternoon, just errands and wandering through the city. caleb carried both your iced drinks and trailed after you as you drifted into a boutique tucked between a bookstore and a bakery. he hadn’t expected you to pause by the pastel display near the front, but when you did, he noticed the subtle change in your face.
the dress was soft pink, with delicate lace on the sleeves and a ribbon tie at the back, simple, but it looked like something that belonged in a scene from your favorite shoujo anime. you reached out and touched the fabric lightly, lips parting just a bit.
“you like it?” caleb asked, stepping beside you.
you nodded, cheeks warming. “it's cute. right?”
he gave a small smile. “yeah… it’s really you.”
you held it up to yourself in the mirror for a second, a quiet spark of excitement lighting up you face. then, gently, you peeked at the price tag. your shoulders sank almost immediately.
“yikes,” you murmured. “never mind.”
before he could say anything, you carefully put it back on the rack, brushing the fabric smooth. “it's okay. i was just looking.”
caleb watched you for a beat. you were already turning to the next display, pretending to be interested in the stack of cardigans, but he could tell you still wanted the dress.
he didn’t say anything right away. just made a quiet mental note.
when you left the boutique, he brought up something random to make you smile again. a dumb story from basketball practice, a comment about someone’s dog in a sweater outside... and you softened, distracted for now.
later that week, you'd find a small box waiting for you in your bedroom. no note. no explanation. just carefully folded fabric, soft pink lace, and a ribbon tie at the back.
puppy boy caleb, who paws at your lap while you're rummaging through some documents from work, trying to focus and get something done while he keeps whimpering and crying, looking up at you with those big violet eyes and one single wish.
"5 minutes...? just 5... i swear, it won't be like last time!" but both of you are aware it will be just like last time, where he wraps his big hands around your thighs, eyes half-lidded, tail wagging so hard you think it might fall off and ears pushed back in his head in pure daze. "just want to taste you a little, please..."
and you can't focus on anything anymore, so you sigh and eventually look at where he sits in front of your lap. it must be the prettiest sight you've ever seen. your puppy is pouting while looking up with those sweet eyes like he needs something to drink now, or he might cry.
and your heart skips a beat when you eventually spread your legs, and he almost turns into another person, grabbing your thighs, pulling your shorts down, already sniffing your panties, tail wagging contently as he mumbles with his voice muffled. "th-thank you... thank you. mmh–... tastes so good..."
heck, he might even do it in his boxers while just sloppily making out. given how long he waited for this particular moment and how tense he is, he simply cannot help how nice you feel.
even though he's received visual demonstrations more times than he can recall, everything he does screams how inexperienced he is. he heard ladies enjoyed some foreplay in the blatant porn films he watched while picturing your body beneath him, but this is just unfair.
he freezes all of a sudden. stops nibbling on your neck and becomes still. and you, perplexed, attempt to look him in the eye, only to discover that his head is pointing down to where your crotches are touching. for a moment, you can't believe it when you see the fiery red colour spreading through his ears, even though you can't see his face in that posture.
"f-fuck-... i'm sorry... i'm so sorry... let me just- wait..." he hurriedly apologizes while stepping away from your body as though seeking something else to do besides staring into your eyes, further humbling himself. all while you lay there unable to think of any coherent sentences.
he must be the puppiest boy you've ever laid eyes on.
caleb has a habit of tilting his head down when you're talking to him, especially when you're standing close. it's not dramatic, just enough to catch your gaze, brows slightly raised like he’s listening to you and only you.
it's the kind of look that makes you forget what you were saying for a second.
the worst part? he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he'll lean an elbow on a table or rest a hand against a doorframe, letting his height naturally create that downward angle: eyes low-lidded, mouth relaxed, totally unbothered. and you'll just stare, cheeks heating up, heartbeat skipping.
and when he does know?
he tilts a little more, lowers his voice, and murmurs, “you were saying?”
i need mc to send zayne into a spiral like that man needs to experience some heavy adrenaline. just imagine mc is pregnant and isn't expected to deliver until like... two weeks later? yet suddenly he gets a random call from the maternity wing and he's already overthinking every single possibility because there's no reason why he'd get a call from that department other than. that. and it's a nurse saying his partner just went into labor and has been asking for him and oh OH. when i tell you that man never sprinted so fast in his life YES he's STEPPING OUT OF HIS SHIFT and he won't even give a reasoning. maybe utter some shaky "family emergency" to the receptionist Oh My God. He can only think of checking your contractions, fetal positioning, hemoglobin levels and allat smart stuff i'm tearing up a little i'm sorry me sucker for zayne stupid girl dad who knows way too much but at the same time knows nothing
i think we as a community need to understand that..... maybe caleb isn't the most jealous li. i think even after his release he still can't take away xavier's crown.
i feel like while caleb is more overprotective and possessive, xavier gets jealous way faster...
he got jealous of himself.... TWICE
i came across this tweet earlier and this a list of people/ ??¿¿ things ???? xavier has gotten jealous of 😭 IT JUST KEEPS GOING
speaking as a xavier and caleb main (yes i have a type so what) my personal jealousy ranking would look something like
caleb would so come home from the gym, entering the house quietly and then hug you from behind and scare you to death. then proceed to nuzzle his face all over your neck while you complain about how sweaty he is and how bad he smells. he's also completely ignoring what you're saying and mumbling random words that somehow explain how much he missed you (he was gone for two hours). that's it. that's the post.
caleb barely registered the quiet creak of the door as he slipped into your room, his body moving on instinct. his nightmare still clung to him, thick and suffocating, the echoes of your broken voice still rattling in his skull.
his breath was shallow, uneven, as he looked at you. peaceful. warm. safe. the sight of you should’ve grounded him, should’ve reminded him that reality wasn’t the twisted, blood-soaked hellscape his mind had conjured—but it didn’t. the panic still sat heavy in his chest, refusing to let go.
he ran a shaky hand down his face. the chip should’ve wiped this feeling away. dulled the ache, made him stronger. but instead, it had only left him with the worst parts of himself.
without thinking, he knelt beside the bed, close enough to feel the soft warmth radiating from your skin. he hesitated. he shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t let himself get this close. but he couldn’t stop himself.
his fingers curled into the sheets. just for a second. just long enough to breathe again.
then you stirred, letting out a small, groggy hum before your eyes cracked open. sleep-clouded and hazy, they flickered down to find him at your side. “caleb?” your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
he didn’t answer right away. his throat felt tight, like if he spoke, everything inside him would spill out.
you blinked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before shifting over, lifting the blankets ever so slightly. an invitation. no hesitation, no questions—just quiet understanding.
he swallowed hard. part of him wanted to say no, to pull back before he let himself sink any deeper into whatever this was. but the nightmare was still curling around his ribs, still poisoning his mind, and the thought of being alone with it—alone with that version of reality—was unbearable.
so he caved.
the bed dipped as he climbed in beside you, careful, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he deserved this kind of softness. you were warm, impossibly warm, and when he felt your fingers brush over his arm, some of the tension in his chest finally loosened.
“bad dream?” you murmured.
his jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. he didn’t want to talk about it. didn’t want to admit how much it had shaken him. but you were still looking at him, waiting, patient.
“…yeah.” his voice was hoarse, barely there.
you didn’t say anything, just shifted closer, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. your touch was light, fleeting, but enough to ground him, enough to remind him that you were here. real. breathing.
he let out a slow, shaky breath. his arms moved on their own, wrapping around you and pulling you in, holding you tighter than he should have. if you noticed, you didn’t complain. you just let him, resting against his chest as if you belonged there.
for the first time that night, the nightmare didn’t seem so real anymore.
Ur writing is awesomeeee like you write Caleb perfectly and the narration and dialogue flow so nicely toooo 😣 You captured his love and care and yearning for mc sooo good oml,, Ur fics are SCRUMPTIOUS
I was wondering how you'd envision colonel caleb tbh!!
TYSMMM comments like these keep me going bc i've been so genuinely unmotivated lately 💔 but i swear i'll get back on track
also colonel caleb is such a need i'll surely write something on him in the future!!!
how would his behavior on social media derive? tw. suggestive content below
sylus isn’t the type to post often—hell, he barely acknowledges social media exists. his presence is elusive, more of a shadow lurking in the background rather than an active participant. when he does post, it’s never anything direct. no selfies, no long captions. just the occasional cryptic message, an expensive drink in low lighting, a skyline at night. something that keeps people guessing.
but when it comes to you?
oh, he’s a menace. not in the obvious, overly affectionate way—no, that’s too easy. instead, he plays a different game.
he doesn’t post pictures of you, at least not in the way people expect. it's the details—the curve of your wrist as you reach for a glass, the silhouette of you in his oversized shirt standing at the window, the lipstick print left on the rim of his drink. no context, no tags, just a subtle flex that makes people wonder.
his captions? unhelpful. “mine.” or worse, just a black heart. let them speculate. sometimes he'd feel a bit out of the box and add something suggestive, or an actual sentence.
but where he really thrives? the comments.
you post a picture looking good? he's there, but not with something obvious. “Who are you trying to impress?”—as if he doesn’t already know the answer. if someone gets a little too bold in your replies, he’s suddenly more active than usual, liking their comment just to make them nervous, then replying with something simple but heavy: “Try again.”
and your stories? oh, he watches immediately. no hesitation. first viewer. if you post something particularly eye-catching, expect a single dm—maybe an emoji, maybe a simple “Get home.” not a request. a statement.
he's not the type to broadcast his feelings, but if you look closely, it’s all there—woven between the nonchalant flexes, the carefully curated mystery, and the way he makes it very clear that while the world may be watching, you’re his—and that’s all they need to know.
caleb isn’t obnoxious about it, but when he’s in love, it shows—especially on social media. he’s the kind of guy who acts like he doesn’t care about posting, like it’s just something he does when he’s bored, but his account lowkey turns into a shrine dedicated to you. at first, it’s subtle—just pictures from his day where you just happen to be in the background, or a blurry shot of you laughing with no context. maybe he captions it something stupid like “why she laughin.” but everyone in the comments is already onto him.
but the second he realizes he no longer has any shame to lose? oh, he’s hopeless. suddenly, his story is full of posts that make it painfully obvious he’s obsessed with you. he’ll post your conversations—usually the ones where you’re roasting him just to prove you’re “bullying” him (even though everyone can tell he loves it). sometimes, it’s a screenshot of you saying something dumb at 2 a.m. with a caption like, “this who I chose to love. :p” other times, it’s a picture of you doing literally anything with the most unserious caption, like “somebody get her.” but then, just when people think he’s all jokes, he drops something that makes everyone lose their minds—maybe a picture of you with the softest “yeah. she’s it.” and no one can even clown him for it because you just know he means it.
he’s also the type to be annoyingly proud of you. if you so much as breathe in a mildly impressive way, he’s posting about it. did you cook something? best believe he’s taking a picture before even trying it, saying “chef” with the little hands-up emoji. did you achieve something? he’s reposting it like he’s your biggest fan, because he is. he’d post you on his story just because you looked good that day, with some cocky caption like “she’s literally unreal. don’t talk to me.” and if anyone tries to joke around in the replies, saying something like “caleb bro u lost” he’d just be like “nah, I won actually. ;)”
if you post pictures—especially if you’re looking really good—caleb is on it immediately. he’s the first like, the first comment, and if he’s feeling extra, he’ll repost it to his story with something cocky like “y’all see what I get to look at?” or just a simple mine. if he’s in a teasing mood, he’ll reply to the post with something like “aight. take this down. >:(” just to see if you’ll react, but everyone knows he’s eating it up. and if you don’t send him the pictures first before posting? he’s offended. “so you're just gonna post this without warnin’ me?? unbelievable.”
oh, and if anyone dares to flirt with you in his comments? deleted. blocked. gone. one time, someone tried to be slick replying to one of your posts with a flirty comment, and caleb replied immediately with just, “?” and that was enough. he doesn’t even need to say anything—he makes it clear you’re his without even trying. and the best part? he doesn’t even think he’s being that obvious about it. he’s just showing you off the way he thinks you deserve.
nothing will convince me that CALEB and mc’s first kiss wasn’t when they were older—when feelings got too obvious to ignore. but if we’re being honest, that wasn’t technically the first.
there had to be a moment before that I SWEAR. maybe when they were just kids, caught up in something they didn’t fully understand. no one talked about it after, like an unspoken agreement, but the memory stuck—the summer afternoon under the oak tree, snacking on dried apples, playing dumb games, until they got a little too close, and then—
the sun filtered through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the grass where you lay, the warmth of the afternoon wrapping around you like a blanket. you popped a dried apple slice into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as you stared at the sky. beside you, caleb, in his early teens, let out a satisfied sigh, arms folded behind his head.
“okay, my turn,” you said, rolling onto your side to face him. “if you could have any superpower, but it had to be something completely useless, what would it be?”
caleb smirked, eyes still on the clouds. “easy. the ability to instantly find lost socks. you have no idea how many i’ve lost.”
you snorted. “that’s not useless, that’s just sad.”
“hey, missing socks are a real problem.”
you laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder before flopping onto your back again. a comfortable silence settled between them, only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. without thinking, you shifted closer, your arms nearly touching.
you didn’t know why, but you found yourself glancing at him more than usual. the way his hair fell over his forehead, the faintest freckles dusting his cheeks, the way his eyes seemed softer in the afternoon light. caleb turned his head slightly, catching your gaze. neither of you moved.
“what?” he asked, voice quieter than before.
you hesitated. “nothing,” a murmur, though the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt said otherwise.
caleb studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, without really thinking—without knowing why—he leaned in. it was barely anything, just a whisper of movement, but you mirrored it, and suddenly, your lips brushed together for the briefest second.
it was clumsy, unsure, so fast it could’ve been mistaken for an accident. but it wasn’t.
when both pulled apart, your eyes were wide, breaths slightly uneven. neither of you spoke.
caleb cleared his throat, sitting up abruptly. “uh—so, anyway,” he said, voice a little too casual, “your turn. useless superpower. go.”
you stared at him for a moment longer before slowly sitting up as well. “right. um. i’d want… the ability to always have the perfect comeback."
“so, you just want to be better at arguing?”
“basically.”
you both let out nervous laughs, acting as if nothing had changed, but the weight of the moment lingered between. you never spoke about it, not then, not ever. or maybe a feeew good years later. yet, on quiet nights when you were alone with your thoughts, you would both remember—how it felt, how your hearts raced, how something unspoken had settled between you that day.
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
titsay
dededos
romaincrisis
