#bottom caleb

[mapsthewanderer]

Maps headcanons -

🧡 Dom bottom Caleb smut II

Details: 200 words of the dom!bottom Caleb dirty talking and climaxing. Very filthy 18+ stuff. You are warned. Jesus christ.

Caleb doesn’t come quietly. Not really.

He holds it in for as long as he can—teeth gritted, jaw tight, breath stuttering—but when it hits, it takes him.

You see it in the way his hips jerk up, in the way his fingers dig hard into the sheets—or into your thighs, or lower, gripping your ass with both hands like he needs to anchor himself to the moment.

Like he’s afraid he’ll lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t hold something.

And the curses—he tries to swallow them. He tries. But they tear out of him low and rough, punched through with pleasure too sharp to contain.

“Fuck—”

Half-breathed, like it caught him off guard.

“God, fuck, you feel—”

Torn from his chest, voice breaking at the edges.

“Shit—. I need—fuck, I need to see you.”

“This—this is mine.”

They slip out between clenched teeth, between gasps and groans, between the quiet way he falls apart under you. He’s not loud—but he’s raw. Like he’s holding on with everything he has, and you’re the only one he’d let see him like this.

Because even as he comes apart, there’s still intent in it. Still him. He’s not giving up control—he’s giving it to you.

Caleb is giving you the version of him no one else gets.

The one that trembles.

The one that needs.

The one that arches into your touch with his head thrown back and his voice cracking not from pain, not from force, but from the weight of wanting.

“Look at me—

I want you to see what you’ve done to me.”

And that kind of giving isn’t surrender. It’s trust.

——————————————————————————

Follow me between the jaws of fate

So I can have you to myself for once

So let's get swallowed whole

I wanna go where nobody else will

Ever go

——————————————————————————

[sodapopkiss6]

Was thinking about writing a short sub caleb getting caught by you while hes inside the dryer sniffing your panties but it kinda went outa control and this was born, enjoy!

Misuse of a dryer ig(?)

Imagine Caleb doing the laundry, your clothes are dry so he reaches in to pull them out but sees his favorite panty. The one that compliments you, hugging around your curves just right. He gets distracted, taking the piece of fabric and lifting it up against his face. It smells clean with the smallest hint of your natural scent.

Unconsciously, he starts to grind against the dryer, giving the fabric tentative licks. Lost in a daze he imagines you finding him, scolding him for being a bad puppy and ruining your clean panties again. But he can't help it, he loves them too much, loves you too much. He wants to just spend all his days clinging to your side, basking in your sweet scent, and caring touches.

"Caleb?"

Your voice rings out amidst his moans. And hips still, finishing at the sound of your voice, the way you say his name has his body tingling with pleasure knowing what's to come.

Hearing his broken whimper you gasp, "Caleb you did not! Seriously? again?"

You sigh and go down on your knees behind him, keeping him in place.

"Bad boy, can't even wait till your in the bedroom? Are you that desperate that you'll cum anywhere with anything?" He jolts when he feels the impact of your hand on his behind, tightly gripping on to your clothes.

"Stupid pup, can't even follow directions, nothing in that cute little head of yours but the need to cum huh?"

He responds with a whimper and an adorable twitch. You chuckle mockingly before spanking him again.

"I could just leave you here, I really should"

Instantly his mouth falls open, "N-no please p-pipsqueak don't leave I-I need you please"

"Hmm...I don't knoow" you tease, fingers gently gliding around his behind, squeezing occasionally.

"Owner-mistress please" he cries out pitifully

You sigh and reach to pull down his pants, chuckling when you hear his grateful babbles. Your hand rubs circles around his exposed skin before striking again. A choked out moan escaping him.

"M-mistress?"

You scoff "what? Did you think I was going to reward you for your disobedience? No, bad puppies don't get treats"

He whimpers and squirms, "I'm s-sorry, I'll be good, I'll take a-any punishment"

"Mm that's a good start" you hum in approval "now make sure to count okay?"

"Yes mistress"

"Good boy" you coo and pat him "and don't worry, I'll reward you afterwards if you behave okay?"

Hearing your praise he gets even harder, aching for your touch in any form. He rests his face against your soft clothes, the panty from earlier right next to his nose. He let's out shaky breaths as he counts each spank out loud, eyes glazing from the pleasure and pain. His voice echoes from inside the dryer, forcing himself to listen to all noises he makes, even the most quiet ones.

He has no time to feel embarrassed, as soon as he's done he feels your tounge inside of him, your muscle pushing through his tight ring. His voice cracks, and he trembles, your tounge skillfully moving around his walls. When you fell him loosen you add two fingers, carefully opening him up.

"Ah-! Mistress Please! I-I need to mm" he whines, drooling all over your now dirtied clothes.

"Oh? Is my cute little puppy gonna cum? So quick, you love it when I touch you don't you?"

He nods, even though you can't see him, your countless experiences from before are enough to paint the picture in your mind.

"So good for me, my sweet boy"

Your praises push him over the edge, and climaxes loudly. Moaning and writhing under your overstimulating touch.

Finally he slumps catching his breath as you rub his hips. Relaxing him as he comes down from his high. You pepper his skin with small kisses and murmurs of praise making him whine weakly.

"T-thank you mistress"

"Aw, you're welcome, anything for my precious boy"

You carefully guide him out of the dryer pulling him into a hug.

"You did so well for me Caleb, my adorable husband, I love you so much" you kiss every inch of his face, reassuring and praising him as you do.

Blushing, he hides his face in the crook of your neck, "love you too, m' sorry about your clothes"

"It's okay we can wash them again" you pull back to look at him.

"But seriously, at least pick a better spot, I dont want to walk in on you humping the dryer all the time"

"I'll um, try" He says smiling sheepishly.

You laugh and peck his nose "you and your habits, I swear it's as if you're actually a puppy"

"Mm and if I was?" He looks up to you, and you feel yourself melt over his lovable eyes. Filled with hope and devotion directed at you.

You cradle his face, gaze never wavering "I'll love you in every universe, we'll always be together. Just you and me"

"Just us?"

You smile innocently "yes, I promise"

His eyes turn glassy and he launches at you making the two of you tumble down to the floor. He kisses you passionately, gasping into your mouth instead of pulling back for air.

"Mine-" a kiss "yours-" another kiss. He only pulls back to nuzzle into your palm, however his eyes stay focused on yours.

"I'll always be with you, anywhere, anytime, I'll always be the one by your side. Nothing can keep us apart"

Your brain doesn't register the hidden possessiveness, too caught up in the moment to notice. And when he leans down to mark your skin, arms caging a little too tightly, you don't question it. You hear him mumble about 'building' and 'preparing' something, you don't think much of it

He is simply your sweet husband who's needier than most.

Caleb sus af ngl

Tags:

@caterpillar-in-disguise

[sleeplessflow]

She wears the pants in the relationship

[clovdgyu]

#stepbro!caleb x m!reader #smut #i'm so sorry i went mia again! i got so busy with lots of stuffs and now i'm back!

#mentions of BLACKMAIL, NON/DUBCON, size difference, rough caleb, choking, feminization, dacryphilia, cum swallowing, degradation, HOMOPHOBIA, slapping, slight BDSM

what was supposed to be a normal day turned out to become one of the worst days for you. you eventually knew the day where someone would eventually find out that you were some kind of 'underground doll'. you just didn't expect it to be sooner and by your step-brother, caleb, at that.

now here he was, standing in front of you outside of your room, showing you the video that unfortunately leaked. i knew i should've said no to recording. "mind explaining to me what this video, huh, lil bro?" caleb smirked as he pushed his phone in front of you, the video of you sucking off old men still playing.

you glared at him before you attempted to grab the phone but it was difficult for you since he was practically a giant, literally towering over your frame. "fuck, and so what? i do it to relieve stress cause my mother decided to remarry a man who has a son!"

"oh, so this is about me then? what do you want me to do, apologize?" caleb teased before bursting out laughing, not giving a single fuck about how you looked at him with rage-filled eyes.

you just rolled your eyes at him before you grabbed the door and close it, but caleb's reflexes were faster than yours. he used his hand to stop the door from closing, raising a brow at you as he smirked. "what now?"

the other male forced himself inside before closing the door and locked it. this got you puzzled but decided to plop yourself on your bed. "if you don't want mom and dad to find out, you have to do me a favor?" caleb stated as he moved towards your bed.

you scoffed, "really? and now you're blackmailng me? can this day get any worse than this?" the alst few words were mumbled, seeing as caleb failed to hear it. but not even a second laer caleb spoke up again.

"i want you to suck my cock."

you stopped whatever you were doing and turned to look at him, disgust evident in your eyes. "the fuck? why would i do that? get the hell out of here you're fucking insane and sick in the head," you shouted at him but he only got closer towards you before he was already above you. "c-caleb, what the hell?"

he placed a finger under your chin and lifted it before grinning mancally. "i'm serious. if you don't do whatever i want you to do today, tomorrow, or whenever, that video will go all around the world."

you gulped at the thought, not exactly knowing what to do now. eventually you gave in to whatever sick thoughts he had and went on with it.

everything started with just a fellatio or maybe just stroking his cock inside the bathroom while your mom and dad where literally outside or blowing him under the table while his dad talked to him about some things you never really cared.

you've come to realize that your stepbro was some fucked-up sicko who gets off on being sexual in dangerous situations. currently, you were under his desk, sucking his dick like a pro, hollowing your cheeks while pressing your tongue under his cock.

caleb could only moan as he continued with his project, some kind of diorama that he can barely focus on when you were sucking his cock so deliciously. "hey, m/n. does my cock taste that good? you're being quite eager today. want a taste of my cum dee in your throat?" caleb teased as he looked down at you.

all you could was glare up at him but not stopping whatever you were doing. you heeded no mind to what he said before pushing his cock all the way to your throat.

a pleasured groan left caleb's lips as he threw his head back, one hand stablizing himself on his swivel chair while the other was gripping onto your (h/c) locks. "fuuuck, that felt good. no wonder everyone loved a slut like you. you've practically mastered the art of 'blowjobs'," he stated, making you annoyed.

"why can't you just shut the fuck up?" you retaliated after popping his cock out of your mouth and jerked him off. you littered kisses all over his cock, licking at his tip before engulfing it with your lips.

you sucked on the head that leaked pre-cum while jerking off the base of his cock. you looked up at caleb who was already staring down at you, smiling like a maniac. "that's no way to speak to your older brother, pipsqueak," caleb stated before placing both his hands on your head and shoved his whole cock inside your mouth, reaching the back of your throat.

a surprised, muffled gasp left your lips as caleb now stood up, forcing you to kneel upright. the other male dragged you out of his desk with your head still buried in his trimmed pubes. although you gagged around his cock, caleb didn't care as he kept that position.

feeling out of breath, you tapped on his thigh three times but caleb just stared down at you, pressing his pelvis deeper into your face. the lack of air made your eyes roll back and cheeks warm, you were literally gonna die if he keeps you that way.

luckily, caleb was 'nice' enough to pull your head back. as soon as he did, you pushed him away and began coughing like crazy, holding onto your throat as drool dripped down from your lips. "you—keugh—fucking psycho! i thought i was gonna die," you said.

caleb only chuckled before grabbing your head with one hand, using his free hand to hold onto his saliva-coated cock. he made you face him then slapped your face with it, before placing it on your lips, using the tip of his cock to trace your lips.

"you're driving me so fucking crazy, dude," caleb stated before pushing his cock back inside your throat. he kept a steady pace while you placed your hands on his thighs to support yourself. caleb looked down at you as he thrusted his cock inside your mouth then said, "say, m/n. has anyone fucked you before?"

too lost in your own thoughts of killing him, you shook your head in response. with that, caleb smirked before he pushed you off of his cock and lifted you up, surprising you. "what the—caleb! put me down!"

caleb looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he carried your naked form bridal style. "our parents will probably be away for some time for their anniversary so why don't we spend the whole day like a couple."

you snarled at him.

"we are not a couple! and if you wanted me to continue to suck your cock, why aren't we at my room?" you asked him, brows furrowed together in pure annoyance.

the other male chuckled deeply before leaning his face towards your ear to whisper, "i want to fuck you on our parents' bed." his statement made you look at him, trying to see if he was joking but he was not! you knew better than to think that this sicko bastard would kid you at a time like this.

you gulped, scared and nervous. "a-are you serious? on mom and dad's—wait, fuck me?! i just told you i'm a virgin. our deal was to just suck your dick and that was it! you—"

"if you don't allow me, then that video will eventually leak publicly," caleb threatened you with an authoritative tone, staring down at you with a serious look. "if you show me even just a single pinch of defiance, that video will be posted. got that?"

fuck this insane bastard. i hope you get bombed at school, sick fuck. you cursed at him but nodded in response to his words in defeat. "i don't even know how to have sex. can't we please just keep it to fellatios?" you pleaded, trying to get him to change his mind but caleb just laughed before he gripped your hair and forced you to look up at him.

the force that his grip had made you tear up and let out a gasp, wincing at the pain before glaring at the other male who chuckled. "what part of 'do as i say' did you not understand? did all that cocksucking make your brain go dumb?" caleb stated before pushing you down on your bed.

you snarled at him before moving towards the end of your bed to throw him the pillow you managed to grab. caleb, with his reflexes, managed to catch it before placing it back down on your bed. "you're just a fucking psycho! i'd rather die than get fucked by the likes of you," you shouted at him.

angered by your insult, caleb stomped towards you, placing a hand on your neck and pressing hard on it. "ack...!"

"fuck you! you fucking shit, i've been trying to act really nice and you're being a stupid brat who doesn't even listen to their older brother," caleb spat out but only received a smirk from you as you held onto his forearm.

"you call that being nice? you're the one who's being stupid, caleb. you were never nice to me, only thinking of fucking my mouth. did i turn you gay, caleb?" you said.

your words only aded fuel to the fire that was already boiling deeper inside caleb's system."i'm not fucking gay, bitch!" he landed a harsh slap on your cheek, sending you backward as a whimper left your lips. as caleb removed his hand from your neck, you fell into a fit of coughs as you tried to get get the back the air in your lungs.

the other male began to search for stuffs in your drawer before he found a pink, silky ribbon that was settled beside the condoms and lube. "huh, virgin? what's these doing here then?" he asked, holding the two items up with a raised brow.

you looked at him, rolling your eyes as you scooted towards the corner of your bed. "zayne and i were originally going to lose our virginities together but then you came into the picture and now that is of no use," you answered.

"it won't be for nothing for long," he stated before grabbing your hands and tying them up together using the ribbon he found. "i was planning to prep you, but you're getting on my nerves. you'll be losing your virginity to me."

you just stared at him, tearing up at the thought of having your first with your sicko stepbro, lips quivering. "i hate you so bad."

---------

a strangled moan escaped your lips as caleb began to piston his dick inside your gummy walls that involunatrily sucked him deeper. tears escaped your eyes at the pain of the intrusion, constantly begging for caleb to slow down.

but your cries only drove caleb crazier, wantng to ravish you in a way that you will never forget. the way he pushed himself inside you was as if he was carving his name into your own, as if marking hs territory. "if i knew your tight ass felt this good, i would've fucked you already."

your bound hands were wrapped around caleb's neck as you cried out."you m-motherfucker. i'll fucking kill you!" you managed to say yet caleb only smirked harder before pushing his whole cock inside you, hitting a very sensitive spot which made you see stars.

caleb rolled his hips as he rubbed his own dick inside you, making you writhe underneath him, toes curled. "you act all tough but your body's betraying you, baby bro. you're actually liking this, aren't you?" he stated before palcing a hand on your neck.

he tightened his grip, choking you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you threw your head back, hands instinctively fisting his jet-black hair. "urk..! l-let go!" you stated, but caleb only hardened his grip more.

"fuck, i love the way your hole tightens every time i choke you or when i hit this sensitive spot inside you. you were born to become a sex sleeve, pipsqueak," the ravenette stated before finally letting go of your neck which sent you into coughing fits.

the other male groaned. every time you coughed, you would tighten around his cock involuntarily, driving him closer to his climax. "you psycho! i thought i was gonna die!" you shouted at him but caleb bpaid no mind to it before fucking you again.

this time, he was slower. agonizingly slow, dragging his shaft along your walls as if he was savoring every part inside you. "wh-what are you doing?" you stuttered.

caleb stopped, tilting his head. "i thought you wanted me to slow down?" he stated. "well, i'm being considerate here, baby bro. didn't you want this or did you actually love it fast and hard?"

you growled at him, looking away. he narrowed his eyes at you before taking a hold of your leaking cock, shocking you. "wh-what are--!"

"i can't be the only one who should feel god here, right? like i told you, i'm being considerate here," caleb stated. "and this isn't making you feel good, right? this pace is boring you out. now, let's make each other feel good, okay pipsqueak?"

a clapback was already at the tip of your tongue but the other male suddenly shoved his whole cock inside you, hitting your prostate in a precise angle. you arched your back at the pleasure as you screamed out. "fuck!"

"see? your body responds more when i fuck you harder," caleb stated before he took a hold of your legs and wrapped them around him. he placed his hands on your neck and began to choke you, makingg your tongue roll out.

a manic smile spread across caleb's lips as he watched you underneath him. torso covered in bite marks and hickies, lips wet with saliva, eyesight unsteady as your body rocked in rhythm to caleb's thrusts. you were just a fucking sight to behold.

nails dug deep into caleb's shoulder blades. as caleb fucked your ass, he jerked off your cock until it secreted more pre-cum. "shit. you're making a mess of yourself, m/n. you wanted zayne to see this? that fucking son of a bitch? you wanted to look like this underneath him?"

your mind was already in cloud nine but you were surprised when a slap was delivered to your cheeks, making you look at the older male. "i asked you a question and you weren't even listening? fucking cunt, are you thinking of zayne when i'm literally the one who's fucking you right now?"

caleb removed his grip on your neck before placing them around your hips to get some leverage. "n-no! wait, caleb!" you managed to shout out as the other male suddenly lifted your hips and fucked you deeper, making you scream out in pleasure, tears pooling around your eyes as you threw your head back.

"zayne can't make you feel good like this, bitch!" caleb shouted as he jerked your cock off in time with his thrusts, making you cry out in pleasure even more. he reveled in the way your screamed out.

you were already a writhing and quivering mess under him but caleb wanted to see you trembling even further, wanted to see your limits. "that man probably don't even know how to pleasure you. i'm the only one who knows your good spots. you fucking slut, i'm gonna fuck you my whole life until your hole takes the shape of my cock."

practically fucked dumb, you clung onto him like he was your lifeline. caleb thrusted his hips faster, his heavy balls slapping against your cheeks. "once we're done here, you will go talk to zayne and tell him you already los your virginity, okay?" he threatened you, forcing you to nod.

the other male used his free hand to brush his hair before placing it back on your hips, his other hand was busy jerking you off. "i just felt your cock twitch. are you gonna cum already, pipsqueak?"

you nodded at him, eyes bloodshot red and tired. "y-yes. i-i want to cum, please," you answered him.

the older male scoffed then shook his head. "no, we have to cum together or we're gonna go more rounds until we cum together if you cum without my permission. got that?" caleb stated which made you whine. this earned you a slap to your right cheek. "quit complaining, bitch!"

you just nodded to his instructions as you tried your best to hold in your cum. it was hard to handle but if you came on your own, you'll be experiencing another hell of a torture (called sex). you just complied to whatever caleb asked of you but that familiar coil in your stomach was already driving you nuts. you needed to cum, you had to cum!

caleb groaned on top of you as he closed his eyes in ecstasy, feeling himself come closer to his climax. "i'm about to cum, m/n," he announced, his thrusts growing faster in pace as he let out breathy moans, jerking you off faster.

caleb leaned towards you before he whispered, "cum for me, baby bro."

this was the only instruction you needed to hear as you came in caleb's hand. at the same time, caleb bit on your shoulder as he came inside you with a groan, painting your walls white. "f-fuck," you managed to say before you eventually drifted off to sleep.

----------

a little while later, you awoke to the sound of keyboard clicks. "finally awake, huh? get up. mom and dad is expecting us at his office," caleb stated as he rummaged through his drawer for something.

you groaned at that before getting up from caleb's bed (which you now realized that he carried you to his bedroom). "what are you doin? shouldn't you be getting ready too?"

a scoff left caleb's lips before be faced you with a package in his right hand. "open it for me."

thinking it was a gift, you grabbed it carefully then opened it. you knew it was too good to be true.

and you were right! the moment you opened the packagr, it was a remote controlled vibrator. "what the fuck, caleb?! what are you gonna do with this?" you shouted at him, throwing the sex toy at him in anger.

"remember what i said? do as i say, otherwise.." he trailed off, hinting at the video before grabbing his phone. a manic grin appeared on his lips when you grabbed his forearm and shook your head. "good boy, pipsqueak. now, mom and dad are expecting us so we best move along now. but after you get out from your bath, you better wear this."

a gasp left your lips, "you can't be fucking serious, caleb. anything but that—"

"video?"

"fuck! fine," you answered before storming off. caleb smiling like a lunatic as he planned what he will do with you later.

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ You didn’t escape

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ yandere, gaslighting, confinement, stalking, emotional dependency, infantilisation, drugging in zaynes part, ill post some fluffy mama’s princess after this :D

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ He simply let you run

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’d been perfect.

Dressed in pretty pastels every day, lounging on the velvet daybeds he picked out just for you, reading those soft, dull housewife novels in the golden sun. You smiled when he kissed your forehead. You let him brush your hair after baths. You wore the tiaras he bought, the soft slippers embroidered with your initials. You even stopped flinching when he locked the estate doors behind you each night.

That’s why he let his guard down. Just a little.

Maybe it was the way he’d been skipping out on estate check-ins, coming home later, more distracted, fiddling with new pigment samples and murmuring about some ocean bloom only visible at dusk. Maybe it was because he hadn’t chained the gate from the inside this time. You weren’t sure. But you saw it. An opening. A sliver of chance.

And so, one stupid breathless night, you ran.

Through halls too familiar, past the pond where he collected shells with you, where he painted your name in pearl dust. You didn’t look back. You didn’t dare. Your heart slammed against your ribs, and you could feel the blood pounding in your ears louder than your slippered feet on the stone.

You made it.

Past the greenhouse.

Past the twisted trees.

Past the gate.

You were outside.

Free.

You collapsed on your knees in the dewy grass, lungs burning.

You did it.

You really—

Headlights.

Cool and calm. A car rolled up through the misty evening like it had all the time in the world.

The door clicked open.

And there he was.

Rafayel.

Leaning lazily against the open door, sleeves rolled, white shirt glowing against the dark sky. His blue and pink eyes shimmered under the headlights. He tilted his head, smiling in that half-lidded, sweetly mocking way he always did when he was about to say something awful.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Did you get it out of your system?”

You took a step back, but he was already walking toward you, slowly. Casually. Like he had all night. Like this was a game you both had planned.

“I almost believed you, you know,” he mused, voice soft, dragging fingers through his violet hair.

“The soft little housewife act. The smiles. The bathtime kisses.”

“But then again…”

“You’ve always been a little liar, haven’t you?”

You tried to scream when he touched you, but it came out strangled, cut off by the sharp pressure of his hand closing around your wrist. His touch wasn’t angry. No, Rafayel never got angry. He got disappointed. He got creative.

⸻

Back in the estate.

The house looked the same. But it felt different.

Colder. Brighter.

You weren’t even allowed to walk anymore. He carried you from room to room like a doll, even when you kicked, even when you screamed. He smiled through all of it.

“You want freedom, pearlie? I’ll take away everything until you forget what that even means.”

Your slippers were gone. Replaced with anklets, ones that chime when you walk, so he always knows where you are. Your books? Gone. Your soft pastels? Replaced with white. Nothing but white. White nightgowns. White bedding. A sterile, silent domestic paradise.

The windows were painted over in thick swirling pigments, his own blend. You weren’t allowed to know what time it was anymore.

He fed you by hand. Bathed you himself. Re-did your hair six times a day just to keep you near him. And the worst part?

He was sweeter now.

Clingier.

Cooing against your cheek as he tucked you into the pink canopy bed like a child.

“No more pretending, okay? No more tricks. Gege forgives you this time. But next time?”

His voice was a whisper behind your ear.

“I’ll clip your little wings myself, my pearl.”

And that night, as he slept curled around you like a serpent in satin sheets, you realized,

You never escaped.

He let you run.

And now he’s going to make sure you never even dream of it again.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

He had taken everything from you, but in the kindest way possible.

No shouting. No fights. Just a long, quiet evening at the estate months ago, the tension thick with sterile calm as he folded your resignation letter and slid it into an envelope. You’d been crumbling for weeks under his cool gaze, under the weight of his soft-spoken logic. “You’re overworked.” “You’re exhausted.” “I know your symptoms better than you do.” “I’ll take care of you now.”

And he had.

You lived in silk now. You slept in late. You didn’t even look at your hunter gear anymore, Zayne had donated them himself. All you had to do was wake up, look pretty, and let your husband handle everything. He made it easy. So easy you nearly forgot how it started.

You played the role.

Perfect little housewife.

You even looked to him at restaurants to order for you. “He knows what I like,” you’d say sweetly.

He’d smile. Quiet. Touched.

But something had changed lately.

He had surgeries piling up. Reports. Committee meetings.

He still scheduled your spa appointments and laid out your gowns, of course. But he was tired. His guard was thinning.

You thought you could time it.

While he was in surgery. While the estate was quiet.

Just a jog to the outer perimeter. You used to be a hunter, damn it. You knew how to move quietly. You could taste the wind. Freedom.

And then—

The soft crunch of tires behind you.

You turned, heart dropping to your stomach.

A black luxury sedan pulled up with deliberate, elegant precision. Not even a screech.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Zayne.

Impeccably dressed despite the late hour, his three-piece suit still buttoned, tie still perfect. No coat today. Just his sleeves rolled up slightly. Surgical gloves off. Glasses perched low on his nose.

His hazel-green eyes fixed on you from behind those silver wire frames.

He didn’t speak. Not at first.

He just looked at you. Head tilted. Assessing.

Then he walked forward, each step echoing soft and clean across the stone. No rush. Not a hint of rage.

You tried to back away.

“That was irresponsible,” he said softly. “You’re not dressed for the cold. You didn’t bring your medication.”

He looked you up and down, gaze slow, clinical.

“Did you think I wouldn’t catch you?”

You whispered his name, panicked. He didn’t flinch.

“Get in the car.”

⸻

Back at the estate.

The silence was worse than shouting.

He sat you down at the edge of the medical wing he had built just for you. Not the bedroom. Not the bath. The medical wing.

Sterile. Cold. Bright.

He unbuttoned his sleeves slowly. Rolled them up. Sanitized his hands. Not a hair out of place. Not a single word.

You couldn’t stop shaking.

“You’ve been showing signs of agitation. Poor appetite. Elevated heart rate. Hallucinations of freedom.”

He leaned in closer, lifting your chin with two fingers.

“We’ll fix that.”

You cried when he put the medical cuffs around your wrists.

You begged when he filled the syringe.

He kissed your forehead.

“You’re not being punished,” he murmured, voice low and calm as your vision blurred.

“You’re being corrected.”

⸻

From that point forward, the estate changed.

The doors weren’t just locked, they were magnetically sealed.

You weren’t just supervised, you were monitored.

Vitals. Pulse. Emotional stability. Zayne printed out charts of your mood. He studied you.

He no longer let you dress yourself, he said it was for your safety. You wore medical silk now. Always white. Always soft.

And he doted on you with terrifying tenderness.

Feeding you himself.

Checking your vitals every few hours.

Administering “mood stabilizers” and “rest agents” when you cried too much.

He spoke to you in a voice so calm, so heartbreakingly gentle, it made your head spin.

“You don’t need to run, my darling.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m going to cure you of this hope once and for all.”

And when you finally stopped fighting, when you just lay there, blinking up at him, your lashes wet and heavy, he sighed with quiet pride. Brushed your hair back. Kissed your temple.

“See? You’re learning.”

You didn’t escape.

He just let you run.

So he could medically prove that you’re better off in his care.

And now?

Now he’ll make sure you never even dream of freedom again.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

It started so quietly, you almost didn’t realize you were losing yourself.

Your days were gentle. Xavier didn’t force you into housewifedom, he simply blinked those soft blue eyes at you and asked:

“Would you rather go to work… or stay here with me today?”

You’d laugh. Then, of course, you’d stay.

That turned into every day.

You wore lace. He poured your tea. You sat beside him on the floor, building castles out of stray cat cards while he nodded off mid-game. You thought the estate was safe, soft, dreamlike. His voice barely ever raised. His touch was featherlight.

But something changed when you started wanting more.

More space. More control.

More freedom.

He noticed before you even said a word.

⸻

You thought he was asleep again when you left.

He always fell asleep randomly, on the couch, in the greenhouse, once in the closet while organizing plushies. So when you tiptoed past the east wing, saw him slumped on the armchair, breathing slow, you didn’t think twice.

You made it past the atrium.

Past the tall, yawning hedges.

The gate was open—ajar.

He hadn’t locked it.

You made it to the tree line.

Your chest ached with hope. With belief. You were going to make it.

Then—

The air shifted.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

And when you turned around, the road was empty.

But the shadows rippled.

And then, a voice behind you.

“You’re so bad at hiding, starlight.”

You spun.

Xavier was standing a few feet away. Still wearing his soft white sweater and gloves, but his blue eyes… were open now. Unblinking. Moonlit.

He didn’t even sound angry. He sounded, curious.

“Was it fun?” he asked, cocking his head. “Pretending you could leave?”

“I wanted to see how far you’d get this time.”

You took a step back, and his eyes narrowed, not unkindly, just like he was watching something flutter. A bird with clipped wings trying to take flight again.

⸻

Back in the penthouse.

The atmosphere was wrong.

The soft lamps? Gone.

The plush throw blankets? Gone.

The floor was cold now. The walls too quiet. Too hollow. Like the dream had been pulled out from under your feet.

He didn’t carry you. Didn’t speak at first.

He just followed you, eerily calm, gloved fingers brushing the walls like he was reacquainting himself with the space.

You curled up in the corner of the room he left you in.

He finally spoke hours later, sitting beside you on the bed, setting something down with a soft clink.

A delicate collar. White leather. Your name engraved in silver.

“I used to think I didn’t need to keep you.”

“I thought if I was gentle enough, you’d stay.”

“But I forgot—”

“You were a hunter. You don’t know how to rest.”

He leaned forward, tilting your face up with a single gloved finger.

“So now,” he whispered, eyes lidded, “I’m going to teach you how.”*

⸻

Your new “life” starts slowly.

He no longer leaves you unattended.

He no longer lets you make small choices, what you wear, what you eat, when you sleep.

Xavier is still calm. Still quiet. Still smiles gently as he brushes your hair or feeds you cake. But the soft boy you once knew has been replaced by something colder. Something… too still.

“Try to run again,” he says one night, lacing your fingers in his as you lie in bed, “and I’ll bring back Lumiere.”

“He’s not as nice as I am.”

And that’s the thing.

You know he’s not bluffing.

And you remember the silver-eyed boy who’d once curled up at your side and fallen asleep mid-sentence, now watching you sleep like you’re a fragile experiment.

⸻

You didn’t escape.

He let you run.

So you’d understand something crucial:

“Even outside this place… you’ll always belong to me.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus had warned you, playfully, smugly, over champagne one evening in the west wing of the estate:

“This life I’ve gifted you… isn’t a cage, sweetheart.”

“It’s a throne.”

“But a queen that forgets she’s mine… needs reminding.”

You had laughed then, thinking it was just another of his twisted metaphors. But Sylus never said anything without purpose. Every word dripped in double meaning. And every luxury he gave you, the palace, the gowns, the glittering crow brooch on your throat, was another link in a collar too pretty to notice until it was too tight to remove.

He wanted you dependent.

He wanted you pampered until you forgot how to think for yourself.

And for a time, you let him do it.

Your hunter days faded behind lipstick and silk. He spoiled you until you purred in his lap, let him choose your jewelry, your meals, your very thoughts. You wore red and black because he liked the way it echoed his aesthetic. You sat beside him during war room briefings, glazed over with boredom while he ruffled your hair.

But then, he got comfortable.

He stopped monitoring your comms.

He stopped checking the east wing cameras.

And you remembered the taste of adrenaline again.

⸻

You ran during a banquet.

The whole estate was full of diplomats, officials, his inner circle. Sylus had his arm draped lazily over your chair as you sipped from his wineglass. He was distracted. And just as the string quartet started playing his favorite overture,

—you slipped out.

Barefoot. No time for shoes. No time for hesitation.

You made it through the corridors he’d designed like a labyrinth. Past the obsidian sculptures. Past the garden where he once taught you how to tame that winged beast. You made it to the gates.

They were open.

He never leaves them open.

And that was your first mistake.

⸻

The car pulled up before you even stepped onto the road.

A sleek, all-black vehicle with no headlights. Silent. Elegant. It stopped just beside you, and you didn’t have to guess who stepped out.

Sylus.

Wearing that same smug half-buttoned dress shirt, the red feather-like streaks fluttering in the wind. His blazer hung over one shoulder. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dark, like a predator toying with prey.

“That was fast,” he said with an indulgent little laugh, as if you were a puppy who’d bolted from his heel.

“You didn’t even make it to the decoy perimeter.”

You froze. He stepped forward slowly, hands in his pockets, head tilted.

“You really thought I’d leave the gates open by accident?”

“No, no, love. I wanted to see if you’d bite.”

He grinned as your face crumbled.

“You did. Beautifully.”

⸻

Back in the estate.

He didn’t drag you. Didn’t yell.

He just looked at you with something close to pity.

“You were doing so well. All those soft little routines. So docile. So pretty.”

“And then you remembered who you used to be.”

He threw a switch.

Your entire room, once decked in chiffon and gold, was now replaced with harsh black steel. Velvet replaced with restraint-grade silk. Your vanity? Gone. Your gowns? Locked away.

He only let you wear white.

No more makeup.

No mirrors.

And every time you looked at him, he smiled.

“If I wanted a queen with fangs, I’d let you rule again.”

“But you look better curled up in my lap, darling. All docile. All mine.”

You tried to scream once.

He just laughed, slow and lazy.

“That’s the sound I’ve been missing. Makes me feel like I own the whole world again.”

⸻

The new training begins.

Sylus doesn’t punish you with pain, he punishes you with indulgence. Suffocation. Claustrophobic pampering.

He hand-feeds you every meal.

You’re not allowed to touch cutlery.

He recites your schedule for you each morning in a smug whisper while brushing your hair out.

“You’ll bathe at ten. Nap at noon. Wear red today. Red suits you when you cry.”

He still calls you “my empress.”

Still kisses your temple like a prince from a dark fairytale.

But now?

He makes you say please before every touch.

And thank you after every breath.

⸻

You didn’t escape.

He let you run.

So you’d remember exactly how much of your “freedom” was always his game.

And now?

“Next time you want to feel powerful, sweetheart…”

“Ask me for permission.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

No one knew you better than Caleb.

He raised you. Protected you. Fed you.

Even when you didn’t know what you needed, he did.

From the moment he took you into his arms in that lab all those years ago, barely older than a child himself, Caleb memorized every single signal.

The way your fingers twitch when you’re anxious.

The way your eyes avoid his when you’re scheming.

The way you go quiet when you’re planning to disobey.

So you really thought you could get away from him?

After all this time?

After everything he gave up just to keep you safe, no, to keep you his?

⸻

The estate in Skyhaven was beautiful, glassed walls, endless sky, and a room tailored for every comfort you once never had. Caleb made sure of that. You were given everything you could dream of. Luxuries, affection, him.

He kissed your forehead each morning. Helped you into your fluffy slippers, letting him tuck you into the silk cocoon he crafted just for you.

You had no job anymore. No title.

Just his pretty housewife now.

His darling, helpless girl.

But… some part of you still itched beneath the sweetness.

You remembered how capable you once were. How strong.

And slowly, the ache for freedom began to fester.

It was the middle of a transport window. Caleb was away at a command meeting in Skyhaven’s central tower, gone just long enough for your delusion to take root.

You crept out of the estate barefoot, your pulse hammering, your body guided by muscle memory. Through the polished corridors, past the floating docks, the restricted lifts,

And you made it outside.

The air was cold. The sky stretched forever.

You were almost at the outbound port.

Just a few more meters, and you’d be—

“Pips.”

Your body froze.

That voice.

Warm. Familiar.

But behind it, a thread of cold steel.

You turned.

Standing just beyond the shuttle gates, still in his full Farspace uniform, was Caleb.

Cap tilted back. Gloves still on. Purple eyes glowing faintly under the atmospheric lights. He had followed you without making a sound.

No boots echoing. No shouted threats.

Just him.

Caleb.

Your gege.

Smiling at you like you were a naughty child who broke curfew.

“I told them the meeting could wait.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know the moment you started packing your things?”

⸻

Back in the Skyhaven Penthouse.

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t strike you.

He just took your hand. Held it tightly in his gloved one. Walked you back like it was nothing.

You sobbed the whole way, and he kissed your knuckles with every step.

“I’m not angry, baby.”

“Just disappointed. Do you know what could’ve happened to you out there?”

“You don’t even know how to navigate the lift panels without me anymore.”

He carried you the rest of the way up.

And when he laid you on the bed, your body trembling, he stroked your cheek with aching fondness.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“You’ve belonged to me since you were four years old.”

“I’m not just your husband.”

“I’m your world.”

⸻

The conditioning resets.

This time, he doubles down.

No comms.

No access to the outer levels.

Your biometric ID? Reset. The retinal scanner now only opens to his gaze.

You’re escorted room to room in his arms—“just in case you try anything.”

He starts feeding you again, like when you were small.

Bathing you himself.

Kissing your forehead after every meal.

And when you whimper and try to explain that you just wanted air, he presses your head into his chest and whispers:

“You don’t need air.”

“You need me.”

“Always have. Always will.”

⸻

You didn’t escape.

He let you run.

Because Caleb wanted you to try.

So you’d finally understand something he’s been trying to teach you since you were little:

“There’s nowhere in the universe you could go that I wouldn’t follow.”

“Even if you hate me for it… I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you mine.”

[zomgcaleb]

imagine being Caleb’s hello kitty girlfriend…you wouldn’t hear the word ‘no’

you’d have the biggest stuffies on your bed, the super jumbo limited edition ones down to the ones in various sizes that catch your eye at a grocery store. you’d have the themed accessories, the ones bedazzled in pretty pink and white rhinestones. posters, keychains, stickers, figurines…

he doesn’t let you miss out to the say the least. you just look so cute all snuggled up in your pretty pink bed with all the stuff he’s gotten you, waiting for him to join you with a beautiful smile. it makes his heart skip.

[nebulaeternal]

―⭑❥.ᐟ Subby Caleb

―⭑❥.ᐟ GENRE/WARNING: porn w/no plot, f!xm, evol use, absolute fucking brainrot, praise, overstim, squirting, subby Caleb, p-in-v, cunnulingus, oral sex, creampie eating, bondage, yes Caleb cries.

―⭑❥.ᐟ SUMMARY: Caleb had gotten himself into a little predicament because he couldn't be patient and keep his hands to himself. Now you had to teach him a thing or two about patiences and the consequences that go with it.

―⭑❥.ᐟ WORD COUNT: 1K

―⭑❥.ᐟ A/N: Ok so I know it's been a while since I've posted but I have been having absolute brainrot about this concept since I started my drawing so I decided to share my thoughts with you all. This isn't perfect, it wasn't really read this is just my raw thoughts lmfao. Enjoy!

―⭑❥.ᐟ LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―⭑❥.ᐟ TAGLIST: @noone-png, @imissnanami, @rafayelsplush, @kicupo, @rafayelschewtoy, @zanasoledad, @m00njinnie, @raylexdomination, @mentaltrouble2201, @juniebugg

Caleb is the kind of sub who would do anything to please you, even if it meant pushing his own limits.

He sat waiting for you patiently as he was bound. Arms tied behind his back, he was unable to move or free himself, not that he really wanted to anyway. 

His cock lay in his lap, untouched but growing harder every second. “You promised to behave so why did you disobey me?” You asked in a sultry manner while circling him like a hawk.

He gulped, seeing how irresistible you looked, adorned in your lingerie. “I-I’m sorry..I couldn’t help myself-“ You hushed him, gripping his jaw firmly and moving in closer to his face. This only caused his face to flush as words slipped from his tongue.

“I asked you why you misbehaved. Now try again.” You stared deep into his purple irises, swirling with lust and need. Gently, you grazed your hand along his length, watching how he twitched in anticipation.

“Ngh—I wanted to touch you..you look so good..please forgive me.” Eyed him up and down, watching as he tried his best to resist your touch but you weren’t showing him any mercy.

Without hesitation, you slipped your panties to the side and climbed on his lap. Startled, Caleb let out a yelp, feeling your weight settle on the thick muscle of his thighs, while your tits blocked his field of view.

He felt like he was going to burst. He could already feel the warmth emitting from your core and couldn’t help but twitch and leak in anticipation. “Pips-“ was all he could manage before sucking in a breath while you sank down on him.

You had already tortured him before this moment, bringing him close to the brink of an orgasm only to stop and watch him beg pathetically.

Your head fell back, eyes rolling into your skull from the stretch of his fat cock. “Fuck-“

Caleb whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as he trembled. You swear you could hear him choke back a sob.

Your movement started off slow, pacing yourself while he wriggled and fought against the ropes. However, his struggle only made you more insistent with your movements, and you began to pick up the pace.

Already Caleb could feel his peak nearing, hips bucking insistently to meet yours while you rode him. “P-Pips! Ha! Wait please.” He pleaded and begged but you were going to give him the punishment he deserved.

Doing your best to hold off your own climax, your hips slammed down harder, the sound of skin slapping filled the room.

Caleb couldn’t hold back any longer and burst, filling you up as you continued to thrust, his hips jerking sharply as each pulse of his orgasm washed over him.

However, you didn’t stop, you kept going and that’s when you could hear him choke out a sob. Tears streamed down his face, quietly you kissed them away before shoving his face into your breasts and continued to bounce on his cock.

He hiccupped and wailed as you continued to overstimulate him, his hips moving against his will while he chased another painfully good orgasm.

“Fuck! Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” He changed and begged the mantra over and over. “I’m sorry! Please—fuck, I can’t take—too much!” 

Unable to complete a sentence, he continued to fight against bucking into you while you abused his cock in a way that made his brain go blank.

“Caleb—gonna cum.” You groaned out, slamming your hips down on him one final one before your own climax hit.

You moaned out and threw your head forward onto his shoulder. Panting you tried catching your breath but had one more thing in mind for him.

Slipping his cock out of you, which to your surprise was still rock hard, you asked him to get up and move over to the bed.

“W-What are—” You hushed him quickly and pushed him onto the bed, quickly clinging on top of him.

You were now face to face with the swollen head of his cock while your cunt laid near his face. Without saying a word, you took him into your mouth. After all, he still needed to be cleaned up.

This caught Caleb off guard and he let out a loud moan, one you quickly shut up by shoving your cunt in his mouth.

Almost like instinct, Caleb began licking at your folds, sucking your clit and scooping out the combined release from the last round.

His cries were muffled as he continued to eat you out while you sucked him off. Your focus remained on the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it and occasionally giving his balls a squeeze.

Caleb bucked his hips and managed to slip inside your mouth completely, it hurt but it felt like absolute bliss inside your mouth, so he held you there.

Using his evol, he pinned your head in place throat fucked you whilst continuing to eat you out. His cock hit the back of your throat as your nails dug into his thighs to brace for the rough pace.

Both of you continued to move in synchronous torture, you slamming your cunt down on his face and him thrusting his cock into your throat.

Both your peaks started to approach, your nails by now had left scratches in Caleb’s thighs while his cock surely has left bruises in the back of your throat.

He let out one final muffled grunt and spilled himself inside, in turn triggering your own orgasm as you soaked his face in your own fluids. Pulling off of him, you weakly rolled over, lying down in the empty spot beside him.

The two of you lay there, unable to move as you both caught your breath. Caleb sniffling and shuddering while you caught your breath as tears slipped from your eyes.

Both of you were absolutely blissed out and needed to catch your breath and gain your bearings before either of you could make a move to do anything. But you can say you both had quite the time.

© nebulaeternal 2025 mdni divider by @/cafekitsune

[kindalonely-ngl]

i think you guys need to stop using the terms top/bottom for heterosexual relationships. Just keep using dom/sub but for the love of God stop doing top/bottom thing for otome characters they don't even fuck men

Hmm I have to disagree with that. From what I understand and interpret the terms, dom/sub means dominant/submissive which specifically explains the power roles of the partners. Dominant = perceived to have the upperhand and control over the sub, is responsible to provide a safe space for the sub; Submissive = the one who's actually have the control over the flow, what the sub says goes, is taken care of by the Dom.

Top/bottom are simply the position of the partners involved during the intercourse and how they contribute to it. Top = the one at the top, actively giving pleasure, does all the work (lol jk). Bottom = the pillow princess (Edit 2: this one is an exclusive term too. Did some reasearching and it's originally used by/among lesbians but I've also seen plenty articles using "pillow princess" in heterosex relationship discussions) the receiving ends, the one who lays back and enjoys.

That's why the "you wanna top?/ Can I do the topping tonight?" Is just as relevant in heterosexual relationships.

There's also a "dom bottom" and a "sub top", and many more dynamic roles in sexual relationships.

When I say LADS men bottoming, I didn't necessarily mean the boys taking it from behind and MC/female lover pegging them (which is hot, want, need, but no, I don't always mean that). I only mean them letting themselves be the receiver instead of giver, and letting their lover do whatever they want to certain extent. So using the term top/bottom in heterosex relationship isn't weird and irrelevant, nor the term exclusively belong to the LGBTQ++ community (Edit 1: it is actually an exclusive term for the queer community 😯, now we know. Credit to @auggofroggo for their informative reblog). (Edit 3: thanks to @lycheejelli I did some digging and found out that the term top/bottom/vers is used by straight couples specifically under the context of pegging. If a woman prefers to peg and uses strap-ons in a sexual relationship, then she's a top. If a man prefer to be penetrated by his woman, he's a bottom. If they enjoy penetrating/pegging and be penetrated, they're vers).

But thanks for bringing it up for discussion though! ✨️

[mapsthewanderer]

Maps headcanons -

🧡 Going to bed before Caleb fluff

Details: 200 words of pure Caleb fluff and pillow talk.

If you’ve gone to bed before Caleb, he always starts the same way. Quiet footsteps, the kind that barely disturb the air. He leans in, and without a word, presses his forehead to yours—just for a moment. Measuring your warmth. Checking if you’re running hot, or if maybe he just missed you that much.

Then his lips find your temple. A kiss like punctuation. Gentle. Necessary.

If you’re curled on your side, he doesn’t hesitate. He slides in behind you like he was always meant to be there. An arm over your waist, chest to your back. No space left between.

He kisses the nape of your neck, slow and careful at first. Then again. And again. Soft, scattered kisses, like he can’t help himself—like your skin is gravity and his mouth’s just answering the pull.

He tries not to wake you—he really does—but between those kisses, the words slip out anyway, broken up by breath and lips against your skin.

“You looked so peaceful…”

kiss

“…I almost stayed in the doorway.”

kiss

“You make this place…”

kiss

“…feel like home.”

kiss

“I don’t know what I did…”

kiss

“…to deserve you.”

kiss

“Even your breathing…”

kiss

“…sounds like a song.”

Each word barely more than a whisper. Each kiss a confession. And he’s still trying not to wake you—but gods, he needs you to know.

Just in case you’re listening.

[sodapopkiss6]

Tummy bulge and its Caleb realizing how big Sylus is

Each time Sylus thrusts, Caleb can see and feel him because of course Sylus is fucking him in front of a mirror while he teases him. Slowly dragging his hips back and forth at first, Caleb's eyes fixated on how the skin on his lower abdomen stretches each time he's full.

It should be scary, is what he thinks. But the way Sylus holds him, whispering the sweetest promises, praising him until he's dizzy from arousal. How can he be afraid? It feels too good, too right, to be scary. It's confusing.

He wants to pull away and pull him closer at the same time. His mind battling between desire and rational thoughts. But each time Sylus hits his sweet spot, his mouth falls open with gasps and moans. Erasing every single thought until he's just a good boy, a good puppy.

Sylus knows how to make him weak, to make him submissive and cave in. Make a mess out of him until he looks at the mirror and fails to recognize himself. Surely, the man begging and whimpering for more wasn't him. He would never beg to Sylus. He'd never act this way in front of the man he hates, the one who took his pipsqueak.

Caleb would deny his feelings while his hips push back to take him in deeper. Sylus’s tip poking out, outlining his length. The sight alone enough to make him come undone again and again.

This is based on pre relationship MC x Sylus x Zayne x Caleb that I'm working on, I feel maybe ooc but idkk js for fun

[revvethasmythh]

it's so funny to me that caleb and veth really did just trade off the job of intensely pining for the other at like the halfway point of the campaign. like, imo, nott in the early days did not behave in any real romantic or even romance-adjacent ways toward him--I imagine it would be very hard to even think in that way when you hate what you look like so much, have such low self-esteem, and are actively lying about your entire past, including a secret husband. caleb, on the other hand, is kind of diving directly back into the sort of relationship he had with astrid and eadwulf. very close, very intimate, we-huddled-for-warmth-together-and-oops-it-led-to-something-else sort of thing. he is the one who expresses that he's fine with it if people think he and nott are romantically together when they're talking to keg. nott is the one who pushes back on that. he calls her his life partner. unknowingly, he compares his feelings for nott to nott's feelings for yeza. his behavior only really starts to change after he finds out about veth's husband because suddenly all of that other stuff is rendered inappropriate in retrospect. but even then he compliments her to yeza over dinner in the most awkward of ways, he admits to being jealous, he calls yeza "a lucky man" to have her, he stares at veth and yeza closed bedroom door for far too long, he creates an entire arcane tower with room for her family just so she'll stay with him. in general, his behavior is not, um, totally and completely platonic about it, you know?

like, veth's feelings for caleb are canonical and therefore indisputable in their existence, but caleb in the early days was not that dissimilar to how veth was acting near the end of the campaign. it really paints a picture of "right person, wrong time" in the way things just didn't line up for them. or, as veth would say: "in another world, maybe"

[dent-de-leon]

I love the fact that Kingsley Tealeaf defeated the live show villain—and he did it by somehow knowing to cut off the gemstone bolo tie that was?? Apparently binding him to some very powerful, otherworldly evil entity??

If there's one thing Tealeaf can find, it's terribly cursed magical artifacts. Vess even said something to the effect that Lucien was particularly drawn to powerful arcane relics.

Anyway, I fully believe that Plank King Kingsley Tealeaf has accidentally amassed a hoard of rare and valuable--and quite possibly very cursed--arcane relics. Just...interesting little trinkets or jewelry or weapons he's picked up here and there, buried treasure at sea that should have stayed lost in the deep.

Choosing to believe Caleb stops by to just cast Identify on his latest finds every now and again--and more than once, basically found out King was keeping a Vestige of a Betrayer god or something just in the back of his cargo hold and didn't really think anything of it. Caleb will find forbidden magic lost to the ages, remnants of dark powers from otherworldly Planes, start panicking--and King will just be like. Wait no I can't throw that one away, Magic Man. It's my favorite necklace--

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ I’ll think for you

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ yandere, manipulation, dependency, power imbalance, forced domesticity, isolation, a tiny bit infantilisation, this is me getting yall slowly used to dark content

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They shaped you to be exactly how they want

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You used to be so independent. So opinionated, so decisive. A skilled hunter of the Deep Space Hunter Association, Graduated top of the academy. And now?

You’re a delicate little thing wrapped in lace and pearls, sitting in Rafayel’s lap at a velvet booth in the most exclusive restaurant in the city. His hand strokes slow circles on your bare thigh, keeping you calm as your wide, pretty eyes flit nervously over the menu.

Not because you can’t read it. But because, “Raffy,” you whisper softly, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, “…I can’t pick..”

He beams. Oh, you sweet, helpless thing. “Mm, my baby wants the saffron lobster risotto,” he murmurs against your temple, curling a lock of your hair around his finger. “You always get pouty when the rice is undercooked anywhere else, remember?” He tucks the menu away without you even touching it. “And we’ll share the strawberry mille-feuille after. No cherries. I’ll kill them if they bring cherries again.”

You nod obediently, letting him order for you, your fingers fidgeting with his sleeve like a lost child. You don’t even notice the way the waiter looks at you with pity. Or is it fear?

Rafayel doesn’t mind. He lives for this. For your dependency. For the way you look to him like he’s your entire world, because he is.

You don’t shop anymore unless he’s there to tell you what’s pretty.

You don’t eat unless he feeds you the first bite.

You won’t even open the curtains without asking him if it’s okay today.

And when you’re home, swaddled in your frilly little outfits, toddling after him barefoot in your designer slippers, asking “Raffy, can I put ribbons in my hair today or are we staying in?”, he nearly collapses from how cute you are.

You can’t function without him anymore. And he made sure of that. Sure, It took a while to get you to this state but he managed.

Rafayel hums softly as he spoons the first bite into your mouth. “That’s it, sweet girl. Good, isn’t it?” His smile deepens when you nod happily, your lips still parted a little for another bite. “See? You don’t need to worry about anything. Just let Raffy take care of it all.”

His voice is so soft, so gentle. But beneath it is that familiar edge of obsession.

If you ever did try to choose something without him now,

If you ever said, “I think I want—” instead of “Raf, What should i—?”

he’d smile at you just the same.

But the look in his eyes would turn terrifyingly cold.

Because you’re his. Utterly, helplessly his.

And he won’t let you survive without him.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Your life is so easy now. No stress, no pressure. Just floating through luxury in silk nightgowns and diamonds, curled up in Zayne’s lap in the garden pavilion or lounging in the marble tub he has drawn for you daily at 7pm sharp. He handles everything. He decides everything.

You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything anymore.

And he made sure of that.

⸻

You’re out for dinner with him, very rarely, only when he says it’s safe enough, and you’re clinging to his arm, face half-hidden in his shoulder as the waiter approaches.

“Have you two decided?”

You blink at the menu like it’s written in another language. You didn’t even read it. You looked at Zayne the moment you sat down, your hand resting lightly on his thigh under the table, eyes wide and waiting.

He glances down at you briefly, one of his hands sliding protectively behind your back. “She’ll have the roast duck. Glazed, no herbs on the skin. And the red wine reduction on the side, she doesn’t like it poured over.”

He doesn’t ask you. He knows.

You give a little hum and lean into him, relaxing instantly. “Thank you, Zaynie…” you whisper against his collarbone.

The waiter leaves. Zayne stays silent for a moment, sipping his drink, then gently shifts your chair a little closer to his. Always keeping you within arm’s reach. Always watching you.

“You didn’t even glance at the menu,” he murmurs, tone unreadable.

You blink up at him like a kitten caught doing something wrong, but you can’t tell if he’s displeased.

Zayne watches the way you shrink slightly, how your lips pout just faintly. His hand reaches under the table and settles possessively on your thigh.

“…Good,” he says after a long pause, his voice soft and deep. “You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that anymore.” He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lips ghosting across your cheek. “You’re not built for decision-making. Let me handle it.”

And you do. Always.

You wake up when he tells you.

You eat what he places on your plate.

You wear what he’s laid out on the bed each morning, with the jewelry box open for you like a princess.

When you feel anxious, you bury your face in his chest and ask softly, “Zay, what should I do…?” — and he holds you like you’re breakable, whispering, “Just follow me. That’s all you ever have to do.”

He’s spent years making sure you rely on him so fully you wouldn’t last a day without him. And the way you smile when he decides everything for you? Like being cared for is the only thing you’ve ever known?

Zayne would never admit it aloud, but he lives for that look.

You’re not just his housewife. You’re his porcelain doll, the soft and helpless girl he locked away from the world just to protect and control.

And he loves you like that.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

It’s subtle, with Xavier.

So soft you don’t even realize how deeply you’ve sunk into him, how utterly dependent you’ve become.

You don’t remember when it started. When your “What do you think, baby?” turned into “I don’t know unless you tell me.” When your curiosity, your opinions, your sense of direction, all slowly dissolved into him.

Now, you’re just his. A sweet, soft-spoken housewife who waits by the window for him, dressed in his favorite pale colors, your hair styled just the way he likes, your entire world revolving around when he comes home.

You don’t even know what you like anymore unless Xavier whispers it in your ear.

⸻

You’re out with him, rare, but he allows it. Only in quiet, secure places. Tonight, you’re seated across from him in a secluded booth at a lantern-lit garden café in the upper rings of Skyhaven.

There’s a pretty dessert menu in front of you. You tilt your head at it like it’s written in another language.

“Xavi,” you murmur softly, tugging at his sleeve with both hands, “…what do i want?”

He smiles at that. Not in mockery. Not in amusement. In devotion.

“You want something warm,” he murmurs gently, sliding the menu away and taking your hand, long fingers threading through yours. “Something gentle. Not too sweet.”

He strokes his thumb along your wrist as he places the order. You lean forward, pressing your cheek against his hand as if to say thank you for thinking for me, again.

You always look to him before making any move. You won’t even stand up without asking, “should I follow now?”

He picks your dresses.

He braids your hair in the morning.

He brushes your teeth for you when you’re sleepy.

And when you’re nervous about anything, even something as small as picking the scent of the room diffuser, your first instinct is to turn to him and whisper, “What would make you happy…?”

And he always gives you an answer. Always, so quietly. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to guide you.

Because you’re his pretty housewife. His soft little wife who doesn’t need to think. He’s the one who bears the burden of decision. You just have to smile, stay close, and let yourself be loved.

“You’re happiest when you let me think for you,” he whispers against your temple one evening, as he tucks you into the massive bed in your penthouse. “Don’t worry, sweetheart… I’ll never let the world confuse you again.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You don’t make decisions.

You don’t even pretend to anymore.

You flinch when someone asks you, “Paper or digital receipt?”

You hesitate in boutiques, waiting for Sylus to tilt his head before stepping toward the display.

Even at home, you sit quietly beside him, legs tucked under you, waiting for him to decide what you’ll eat, wear, watch, or do.

Not because he forbade you.

But because he’s so perfectly, ruthlessly conditioned you not to.

⸻

Tonight, you’re seated beside him at a private luxury tasting hosted by an ally syndicate. Glittering cityscape behind you, violins playing faintly. You look divine in the dress he chose. The one with the daring back and delicate sleeves that makes you look more like a prize than a wife.

A waiter steps forward. “And for the lady?”

You blink, clearly startled. You hadn’t been paying attention, just tracing lazy shapes on Sylus’ thigh, face resting against his shoulder.

Sylus doesn’t even let you speak.

He lifts his wine glass without looking at the man. “She’ll have the truffle risotto. No onions. She won’t touch it if she smells even one.”

The waiter hesitates, eyes flicking between the two of you. Sylus gives him a single glance, cold, razor-sharp. That’s all it takes. The man practically bows and disappears.

You blink up at Sylus. “I didn’t even realize I don’t like onions…”

He smiles, so smug, so fond, so terrifyingly pleased. “You don’t. You used to pretend you did. For appearances.”

You didn’t even remember that.

But Sylus did. He remembers everything. He’s constructed your new life down to the minute. You don’t have to know anything. He’s already decided what you should.

And it’s so easy to let go.

⸻

You once stood against him as a force. A powerful figure with opinions, ambitions, sharp edges. Took him a while to break you down but now you’re a perfect little thing in designer heels and soft perfume, standing half a step behind him and gripping his sleeve like a doll.

And he loves it.

“You used to challenge me,” he’ll murmur while brushing your hair, voice velvet-slick. “Now you ask me which hand to wear your rings on. How far we’ve come, my little bride.”

You’d never survive without him. Not because you couldn’t try.

But because he made sure you wouldn’t want to.

Why would you?

When Sylus gives you everything you could ever want, except freedom?

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You’ve been his since you were four years old.

Even then, Caleb was the one who brushed your hair, tied your shoes, and chose which dress you wore on school days. Even when he was just six, he took responsibility for you in a way that was unnatural. Fierce. Obsessive.

So now, as his wife, you don’t lift a finger without him.

You don’t have to.

Because Caleb has spent every waking moment of his life making sure you wouldn’t know how.

⸻

You’re seated beside him in the Skyhaven Officer’s Club, plush and extravagant, your legs swinging beneath the table, perfectly dressed in the soft pearl chiffon gown he picked out for you. His gloved hand rests on your lower back, keeping you steady and close.

The menu sits untouched in front of you.

“Baby,” he says lowly, voice calm, “read it.”

You blink at him, lashes fluttering. “I don’t know what I want,” you murmur shyly, fingers twisting in your lap.

“No.” His purple eyes cut to you sharply. “You don’t make decisions. I do.” He places a single gloved hand over the menu, slowly sliding it toward himself. “But I want to see if you even remember how.”

You go quiet. Embarrassed. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

He stares at you for a moment longer before softening, sighing under his breath. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, low and satisfied.

He orders for you. Cuts your food into bites for you. Swaps your glass of water when he sees the condensation has made it too cold. When the waiter brings a side dish that has even a hint of spice, he narrows his eyes and says, “My wife doesn’t eat that. Fix it.”

And you, so sweet, so dependent, you look up at him after every bite like you want praise for just chewing. It makes his chest tighten. He lives for this.

You ask him what to wear.

You ask if it’s okay to sit on the balcony.

You even ask if you’re allowed to use the pink lipstick he bought you.

He trains you into this kind of helplessness. Not through cruelty, but through constant, overwhelming control. Quiet discipline. Every time you make a decision on your own? He gently corrects you.

“Pips, that’s not your job,” he’ll say, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Your only responsibility is to look pretty and wait for me.”

And you do. You really do.

He’s raised you into this. His good girl. His housewife. His soft little thing that wouldn’t know how to breathe without him reminding you.

And that’s exactly how he wants it.

[amoritasart]

“Weird” girl Luz hmmm okayyy now what about Creepy Girl ™️ Evelyn ?

Finally get to show you guys my version of Evelyn!! I envision her as an outcast , she is strange even for the Boiling Isles, often alienating her peers with her constant practicing of dangerous spells on others that she doesn’t seem to have much control over. She is fascinated by curses, birds, and human culture and legends.

[calebslittleapple]

feels like home: sticky fingers

After a few weeks apart, Caleb reconnects with his Pip-squeak, only to find that she's pretty beaten up after a mission. Fortunately, Caleb knows exactly what to do to take care of his girl. From one moment to the next, everything changes, and what starts as an innocent interaction quickly evolves into something else entirely... two-shot, post club-interactions, but can be read as a standalone as well (though, this is part of my feels like home series).

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings); chapter one is M, chapter two is E; 18+

CW: Codependency; Pip-squeak as an endearment; MC is named "Emme" short for "Emme Sea" lmao; Finger Sucking; sensual massage; Vaginal Fingering; humping

Also on AO3

Complete: Chapter One; Chapter Two

feels like home series page

After that dizzying night at the club, things settle back into the same old, same old, mostly because work’s been insane for both of them. At least, that’s what Caleb’s telling himself.

Naturally, he can’t stop thinking, feeling, reeling over the memory of his sweet girl, his beloved Pip-squeak, coming apart in his arms. Along with that, the way she’d woken early the day after, slipped from bed and made him breakfast.

That was normally his role to fall back into, but it was a domestic kind of sublime to walk into her kitchen, and see her standing there, cooking bacon, while wearing one of his t-shirts—old, stretched out, and way, way too big for her.

Caleb couldn’t put his finger on why, but he liked the way she looked in his clothes. Felt a bit like she was wrapped up in him. The possessive pieces of his heart shifted upon seeing her there, ever so slightly falling into place as if a simple moment like that could make his fractured heart whole once more.

They didn’t talk about what happened, because, of course, they didn’t. But she was different. A little surer in her touch and teasing. Hands lingered as the food was shared between them. Her eyes fell on his lips, the line of his neck, the broad stretch of his chest, which was purposefully emphasized by the two-sizes-too-small tank top he was wearing.

He flexed some, and she noticed that too. What was the point of having a physique like his, if not to show it off to the one person he’d crafted it for? Judging from the way her chewing stopped and how her eyes lingered, his many, many hours spent working out weren’t going to waste.

“See something you like, Pip-squeak?” he teased, but his voice was raspier than he’d thought it would be. Catching her staring was painfully intoxicating.

“Hmm?” she replied while shaking her head a bit. “What did you say?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. “Pass the syrup.”

Picking up the nearby vessel, Emme quietly cursed as some of the sticky liquid sloshed over the edge and onto her fingers. After setting the syrup down, she stood and started to turn toward the sink, but Caleb caught her up in his gravity before she could move away.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

Shifting on her feet, she cocked her head at him, and Caleb couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes fluttered, just a little, as he let his power roll over her before pulling back.

Caleb held his hand out for hers. “Let me see.”

She swallowed, looked at her sticky fingers, and immediately focused on his lips. Caleb’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, which earned him a pretty pout.

“You’re terrible,” she breathed but held her hand out, anyway.

“Oh, c’mon, Pip-squeak,” he murmured, his warm hand gently skimming along the length of her forearm before curling around her wrist. “I know you like it when I’m bad.”

Her lips parted with a soft sigh that sounded anything but perturbed, pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips as her actions betrayed her thoughts.

“What are you going to do…?”

“You don’t know?” he asked while leaning closer to her hand, slow enough that she could pull back if she wanted.

He needed to prove something to himself, needed to prove that it wasn’t just the alcohol or the strange anonymity of that seedy club. Caleb needed to know that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He could see it now, in the way she stood there, legs spread just a touch too wide, as if she was imagining what it might be like to fall into his lap and straddle his waist. Or maybe it was in how her hips switched, swaying almost the same way they had while she’d ground herself into his thigh the night before.

No, it was definitely in how glassy her eyes looked and the pretty flush on her cheeks. There was no alcohol coloring this interaction. What other places on her body would flush, he wondered. The tips of her nipples? The soft skin at the juncture between her legs and thighs? What about her ass? As decadently formed as it was, would her ass look even better with a bite mark… or two?

Caleb could feel himself growing hard in his gray sweatpants but was marginally relieved that he wouldn’t need to reach down and adjust himself this time. No distractions. Just her eyes locked on his as he pulled her hand closer and closer.

She didn’t gasp when he sucked her fingers into his mouth—index and middle; warm, sticky, and sweet. No, what she did was much, much worse than that.

Watching for every single reaction, Caleb swirled his tongue before delivering a long, soft suck, and his girl took in a halting breath, fluttered her fingers in his mouth, and fucking whimpered his name.

“C-Caleb!”

Broken, halting, haunting. He wanted to hear her say it again. To hear her say it while he pressed into her from above, while his head disappeared between her thighs, while he did every single thing he’d ever dreamed about doing to her, but dared not do.

They were growing closer and closer to the day when they would dare, and he was doing his best to be patient. He’d draw out every moment so when that day did come, when she finally gave in to her desires and realized that everything she’d been wanting was right before her eyes, it would be after he so thoroughly seduced her that she’d never think of denying either of them.

Ever. Again.

Caleb wasn’t a patient man, but he could play pretend with the best of them. For her, he would make the planet collapse in on itself if she but asked. But all she needed right now was patience and time. As his tongue swirled and his mouth pulled, he lingered there, and let her think of all the other places on her body that would feel oh so good if he ever got his lips, teeth, and tongue on them.

And he would. But, for that moment, he let her go and was not so secretly smug about the sweetly blissed-out look on her face, and the way she stumble-sat into her chair before picking at her food again, desperate to look somewhere, anywhere but at the face of the man she knew the best, and needed the most.

Weeks flew by. She texted, same as always. She called, and he answered on the second ring, same as always. But where once Caleb could soothe himself with the knowledge that he’d be able to see her soon enough, now he is consumed with the memories of their interactions and, more to the point, her reactions.

The clothes she left at his place for use during her visits no longer smell like her, likely because he spends most nights with his face wrapped up in them. The only peaceful rest he’s able to get is when she’s near. When he knows she’s safe. Now, her shirt and shorts just smell like him, and as much as he enjoys leaving his scent all over her space, he wants the same for his home.

Logically, Caleb knows that Linkon is a safer place for her, for a multitude of reasons, but the greedy, dark spaces of his heart want to keep her high in the sky, in Skyhaven with him. He’s smart enough to know how to keep her safe at his apartment. God, he’s done it before. But as good as it makes him feel to know without a doubt that she is safe, he can’t stand the look in her eye at that particular betrayal.

Just one more sin for the consummate sinner. But with her, ahh… It feels like he can find absolution in her arms. No matter how dark he gets, his girl will always be there to pull him back into the light. She promised him, just as he’d promised to always be there with him.

Finally, when Caleb thinks he’s at his wits’ end, he gets a text from Emme asking if he wants to meet up at her place on the weekend. Naturally, he agrees. Even if he didn’t have the time off, he’d have figured something out. He’s so excited about it that he decides to surprise her the night before, which isn’t uncommon for him.

So, with snacks and an overnight bag in hand, he lets himself into her apartment and waits for her to get back home from work. From how she tells it, she’s been overtime on something important. Caleb did some digging and managed to find out it had something to do with Wanderers convening just outside of the city limits.

It’s miserable work, as important as it is, and he worries because that’s who he is. Caleb wouldn’t be Caleb if he wasn’t worrying about his Pip-squeak. He’s just wired that way. And this time, he’s right to be concerned because when she finally gets back to her apartment at just after 2 a.m., she stumbles in.

Of course, she’s not entirely surprised that he’s there—who else would be watching movies this late in her living room, who else would know the security code to her suite, and who else would show up unannounced, like him—but she looks put out, all the same.

He watches her for a moment longer as she pauses at the entrance to her home, leaning against the doorframe as she breathes deep, head hanging heavy, body drooping… He’s moving before she can fall, her body pitching forward into his strong body instead of the floor.

“Whoa, Pip-squeak! What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, and the dark smudges under her eyes, along with the scrapes on her cheeks and neck tell him everything he needs to know.

“Caleb.” One word spoken, half annoyance, half supplication. It’s all he needs. A moment longer, and she’s swept up into his arms.

“Let’s get you washed, dried, and cared for,” he says, sounding more competent and put together than he feels. In truth, his heart is pounding in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has not to drive over to the Hunter’s Association and ream out whoever is responsible for putting her in the situation that got her in this state.

Not that he’d dare leave her now.

He carries her through the small space of her apartment and walks them both into the bathroom. Her bathroom is cramped on a good day, and with the two of them in there, it’s even worse. She bats at his hands and tries to tell him she can manage on her own.

“I’m not a child.”

“Of course you aren’t, but you’re still my girl. How could I live with myself if I left you alone now? What if you fell in the shower, or worse?”

She frowns, but some of the roughness of that expression is smoothed away as she thinks about it.

“You owe me, then.”

“Oh?”

“Next time you get sick. You call me. You let me in. No excuses.”

Caleb sighs. Of course, she’d bargain for something like that. It’s not in his nature to show weakness, least of all to her, but he’d promise just about anything and mean it to keep her happy.

“Deal. Now, strip.”

She blushes at that, only for her lips to frown again.

“What?”

As Caleb eases her from his arms, she’s unsteady on her feet. “I really… just don’t think I can.”

“Need some help?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but very much feeling like his heart is going to explode.

“Promise not to get mad?”

“No.”

“Caleb!” she exclaims while giving him a halfhearted shove. “There’s just a few scrapes. And I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But it’s nothing major, okay?”

“Okay. But you’re going to let me treat your injuries.”

She pouts. “Fine, but it’s mostly just… really sore muscles. I think a Wanderer was trying to tear my spine out…”

He hates the sound of that but manages to transfer some of his anger to the fastenings of her clothes, quickly and efficiently stripping the layers of her outfit from her body until she’s standing there in nothing more than her underthings and the bracelet he gave her.

He loves that no matter where she goes, she’s got a piece of him with her, but he keeps that bit of information to himself. She already has his heart. Any more leverage and she’ll have him following her like a puppy… more than he already does, that is.

Caleb tries to be level-headed about this, but it’s a challenge given how very fuckin’ long he’s dreamed about seeing her like this, albeit in very different circumstances. Still, he loves her, loves her more than he longs for her, even, so he schools his features, wills his body to calm down, and has his Evol prop her up while guiding her roughed-up body into the shower.

And though it’s strange, and not entirely logical, Caleb swears he can feel her pressing back into his gravitational touch, leaning into his power as he works to support her and not lose his damn mind. Maybe it has something to do with her Resonance. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time that their shared connection bridged the gap between fantasy and reality.

Once the shower curtain is closed, his power slips away, leaving her to stand on her own two feet.

“You good?”

“I’ve got the wall,” she says with a sigh. “Can you help me after I’m done?”

“Of course.”

She manages to take off the rest of her clothes. They fall to the floor of her shower with a soft thump.

“Want me to grab ‘em?”

“Everything’s filthy,” she admits. “Guts and blood and gore. I think I’m gonna burn them.”

Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. He’ll get the gore out for her. He’s good at that. Listening attentively, he makes sure to check in with her as she bathes. Truthfully, she’s sounding better, at least, until a soft hiss sounds from behind the curtain.

“Everything alright, Pip-squeak?”

“Just a very, very sore muscle.”

The water stops, and she gingerly peeks her head out from behind the curtain. She’s adorably drenched, and every part of him is itching with the need to care for her. He’s pleased to note that most of the blood is washed away, and doesn’t seem to belong to her.

Guts and blood and gore, indeed.

“I got a towel ready,” he says, spreading it out and turning his head so she can step out of the shower without having to worry about him leering.

Caleb swears she snickers at him, but she ducks into his arms and lets him wrap her in the towel, just the same. She’s swallowed up by an excess of plush fabric, with only her feet and head peeking out from the edges.

It almost reminds him of when she was young, and how after playing with the sprinkler and tiring herself out in the summer sun, she’d complain about being cold, only for Caleb to wrap her up in a towel and help her dry off.

Well, he’s not that boy anymore, and she’s certainly not that girl, and what they are to each other is so much more than childhood friends.

Still, he tugs at the edge of the towel and lifts it so that he’s better covering her neck. “Can you turn around? I’ll dry your hair.”

“The blow dryer is—”

“Beneath the sink, I know.”

With everything ready, he first works at detangling her hair with her paddle brush. Her work’s made a mess of her hair, but he’s good at this—the best, actually. He has to be because the last thing he wants is to cause her any more pain.

After her hair is detangled and pulled back, he slowly runs the blow dryer over it while combing it on low heat. He’d hate to damage her hair. Once her hair is mostly dry, he quickly pulls it into a braid. Another thing that he’s quite good at.

“Hair ties?”

She holds up her wrist.

“Hair ties that haven’t gone through hell and back?” he clarifies while tugging the band from her wrist and throwing it in the trash.

“Medicine cabinet.”

He gets what he needs, ties off her hair, and picks her up again. This time, she squawks a little, but he gently rubs his lips against the top of her head and softly begs, “Please? Let me help.”

And mollified by his words or his actions, she settles and lets her head fall against his shoulder. It doesn’t take long to get to her bedroom, the door of which he gently nudges open with his power.

Caleb settles her on the bed and walks over to her dresser. “What d’ya wanna wear?”

“Mmm, I have some clothes ready in the top drawer.”

Pulling open the heavy wooden drawer, Caleb is surprised to recognize her clothes as his. “I was wearing this the last time I visited.”

“Yeah, your clothes are comfier than mine.”

“The shorts aren’t mine,” he points out.

“Your shorts would slide down my legs. The shirt is big, but it’s sooo nice to sleep in.”

As Caleb tugs the shirt and shorts closer, he can’t help but notice that it still smells faintly of his scent.

“Didn’t you wash this, Pip-squeak?” he drawls.

“Oh. No…” She sounds embarrassed, and he’s just about to tease her for always leaving her dirty laundry for him to do when she soundly sucker-punches him with what she says next. “It still smells like you… So… that’s why.”

That soft admission has the air retreating from his lungs in a wicked rush, words hitting with precision impact. Caleb doesn’t turn to face her. He can’t. His fist is tightly clenched around his shirt—the one that smells like him—his eyes are closed, and his breathing is so erratic that he needs to take a moment to calm himself.

Of course, he keeps her clothes at his bedside when she’s not in his home, but to hear she does the same—no, that she wears clothes that smell like him to bed—makes him feel fucking feral. He is not a good man. Far from it. He is who he needs to be so that he can keep her safe.

But when the reality of her words hits, it shifts his intentions for the evening entirely. He’d meant to put her to bed with a heating pad after checking for wounds, and then go to make her something to eat. Now she’d be lucky if he let her sleep at all.

“Where’s that massage oil that Tara got you?”

“How do you know about that?!” she balks.

“She was bragging about it at your birthday party. She’s remarkably chatty when she’s been drinking.” Tara was remarkably chatty all the time, but she got downright obscene with alcohol. Caleb got the sense that she was intentionally making him aware of the oil, almost as if she was giving him a not-so-subtle nudge.

As if any of this was up to him. Still, the knowledge came in handy. He’s feeling not the least bit smug about it, at least, until she hits him with another jab. “It’s in the drawer of my bedside table.”

Caleb closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and specifically does not think about what that likely means.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he finally manages to ask, “Can you dress yourself?”

“I can manage. But what are you going to do with the oil?”

Caleb shakes his head, turns, and fixes her with a look. “Massage your legs, silly girl. You could barely stand earlier. They’re gonna be hellish in the morning if you don’t take care of them now.”

“You’d do that for me?” she asks, cheeks still flushed from her shower, and towel wrapped tight. She looks good enough to eat, and Caleb expects that if he doesn’t somewhat sate the beast inside of him, he’s going to make a meal of her sooner rather than later.

Caleb stands before her, bunches her shirt—his shirt—up, and slides the top over her head. “Can you manage the rest?”

She nods, and he turns around to give her some privacy. “The shorts?”

“I can manage,” she replies, but her groans make his stomach twist with concern.

“They’re working you too hard.”

“My job is hard. This is what I signed up for.”

“Then you need to do a better job of taking care of yourself during your days off.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I think ‘Daddy’ would be more fitting.”

“Caleb!” she squeaks. “Don’t say things like that.” But she certainly doesn’t sound as scandalized as she should…

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. You finished?”

“…Yeah, I got it.”

Caleb turns, tilts his head, and gives her a look. Her hair’s messed up now from the shirt, and she looks tired. A perfect pout greets his smile.

“Poor baby,” he softly croons. “Lay back and let me take care of you.”

He can see her swallow at that, like she’s having a hard time making her vocal cords work. “You’re just taking advantage of my weakness.”

“Naturally. How else am I gonna get you to understand that you need me?”

She huffs at that. “You need me just as much as I need you, Caleb.”

He snorts softly, teeth pressing into his tongue, before he softly admits, “You have no idea… Now, no more stalling.”

Caleb points to the bed, and she dutifully scoots back onto the sheets, albeit slowly and with effort. He manages to dig out the oil from her dresser and pointedly ignores literally everything else that’s hidden away in there because he won’t be able to behave if he does otherwise.

“I guess I should have grabbed the oil,” she starts to say.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Oh… never mind.”

“Something you don’t want me to see in there?”

She nibbles her lip, eyes fluttering softly as she murmurs, “Maybe… maybe not.”

The look she gives him is so coy and tempting that his mind goes completely blank and he utterly forgets what the hell he’d been in the middle of doing. At least, until she points to the oil.

“Are you gonna massage my legs or…?”

“Yeah… yeah. Right. Roll over, Pip-squeak. Lemme see where it hurts.”

She rolls over and Caleb’s eyes trail reverently over the length of her legs. She looks good. Too good. He hates that her coworkers get to even see a measure of this. Of course, he knows it’s insane to want to be the only one who can appreciate her, but his greedy heart feels it just the same.

“You been workin’ out more lately?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Things look… tight,” he rasps, voice betraying his interest and desire.

Her reply is soft and teasing. “Someone did make me join that squat challenge last month. And here, I thought you had ulterior motives, but you’re acting all surprised.”

Caleb coughs to cover up some of his embarrassment and dispel a measure of his lust. Yeah, he had gotten her to agree to that challenge. Honestly, he’d been grasping for things to say, because he caught her right after a workout and the fine mist of sweat on her brow, along with the gorgeous flush in her cheeks, had him thinking of exercise of a different kind.

And here she’d taken him seriously.

“Gonna be as strong as me soon,” he manages while stepping closer to the bed. Her legs are spread on either side of him, and for one long moment, he doesn’t know what to do, or where to look next.

“Doubt it. Your legs are too long, and your thighs are too strong.”

“Been thinking about my thighs, baby?”

He’s teasing, sweet, and he means to catch her off guard, but she hits back so hard as she replies, “Yeah, your thighs… and other parts of your anatomy.”

Caleb sighs, long and hard. Says a prayer for courage to whoever happens to be listening, the Gods of the earth and the sea and space, or otherwise, and then, he gets to work. He kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, and he’s tall enough that this gives him a good vantage point. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

 “Tell me if it hurts.”

feels like home series page; sticky fingers: chapter two

~~~

Author’s Note:

Sorry, this was so big that I had to cut it into two chapters because I hate editing and I got busy with other stuff. I’ll post the other chapter tomorrow, so you can have something to enjoy (I hope) over the weekend. The second part is spicier :D

I listened to the hipsterist hipster music for this one to get me into the right headspace, please enjoy haha. Also somewhat inspired by what has to have been the most painful massage I’ve ever had in my LIFE (did not have the same ending, there was only pain lmao, but I was like hmm maybe Caleb would be good at massages for MC, and then, PAIN). Also Deeply inspired by that secret times where Caleb takes care of MC when she’s sick. Like GOD DAMN, Caleb. “You’re worried I’ll spoil you rotten. Too late for that!” ??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

Also, not that it matters in the slightest, but I wrote this before I learned it’s canon that she likes to keep his clothes around (and wear them???) because they smell like him. They’re just really transparent with how fucking down bad these two are for each other lmao.

Still really fucking obsessed here, guys. Chokehold, I think is a good way to put it. Caleb is a mf bias wrecker, like oh my literal GOD. I swear, some of these are gonna be from MC’s pov, but I’m working through some SHIT rn lol.

I also gave the MC a little name, “Emme” which is short for Emme Sea lmao. I have a challenging time with writing y/n or like using second person present tense. No judgment or anything like that, it just makes it hard for me to think of the characters properly when I’m writing them. ANYWAY, I’ll use it sparingly, but sometimes, it’s just better to have a name lol.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! And extra hugs for anyone who left a comment. You are the apple of my eye, and thank you for giving me a space to channel this whatever it is? Obsession lmao. I’ve got a few other interludes planned (shower), and I’m taking requests (on tumblr), so either give this/me a follow, or check up on my tumblr :) If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear from you! Or feel free to share with a friend, if you’re lucky enough to have some Caleb-obsessed friends haha.

Don’t forget! I'll be posting any updates as installments (not chapters), so be sure to sub to the series or my user name to get updates on ao3, or just check my tumblr, i'll post here too♥️🍎

[fraudulent-cheese]

Uh yeah official Lilaniloxi opinion on every season winner based on canon stuff