catchdempaws

[catchdempaws]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — HE COMES HOME EARLY

ZAYNE

You don’t hear the front door open. Not over the sound of Zayne’s voice looping softly in your ear, pulled from the dozen voice messages you’ve been clinging to for the past two days. The ones where he told you goodnight, where he reminded you to eat, where he whispered he’d be home soon — even though “soon” was supposed to be tomorrow.

You’re curled on his side of the bed, swallowed up by his oversized hoodie, knees tucked into your chest. His cologne still lingers faintly in the fabric, and you’ve been pretending that it’s him. That he’s right here, lying behind you, maybe with an arm thrown around your waist like he used to before work started pulling him away more and more often.

You missed him so much it hurt. But you didn’t want to distract him. You didn’t want to make it harder for him to focus, to do what he needed to do. So you bottled it up. Quietly. You told him you were okay. You told him you were proud.

You didn’t tell him that at night, his absence pressed down like a weight on your chest. That you started playing his voice messages just to fall asleep.

Which is why you don’t notice when he steps into the doorway.

He’s silent, always has been — sharp and composed, the type to carry tension in his shoulders and lock emotions behind a fortress of calm. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling all day that something was missing. Something more than the usual tug in his chest. So he wrapped up the meeting early, caught the earlier flight. Didn’t tell you.

Now he’s standing there, staring at the shape of you curled in his bed. His hoodie half-falling off one shoulder. Hair a mess. Lips parted in sleep.

And in your ears: his voice.

He doesn’t speak. Not right away. Just watches you for a long moment as his expression shifts — just barely, but enough. His brow softens. His jaw relaxes. You’d never see it, not unless you were looking.

But you stir.

A sleepy blink. A little inhale as you stretch, confused, because the lights are different, the air is warmer — and then you see him.

You sit up like you’ve been caught in the act. Yanking the earbuds out, panic flashing across your face.

“Zayne?! I — I thought—” You fumble to untangle yourself from the blanket. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow—”

He says nothing. Just crosses the room in a few steady steps. You brace for a lecture. A cold stare. But instead, he kneels in front of you and presses a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing the skin beneath your eye.

“You weren’t sleeping well,” he murmurs. “Were you?”

You shake your head slowly. You can’t lie to him. Not like this. Especially not when he’s looking at you like you’re something fragile, something precious.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you whisper.

His eyes flick to the phone still lying beside you. The screen dimmed but not dark — paused on a message of him saying, “Just one more day, and I’ll be home.”

He takes a breath. Something soft, almost inaudible.

“You can always bother me,” he says.

It’s not something he says often. Not the type to reassure with words. But this — this moment— it carves something new into him. A guilt, maybe, but also a vow.

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

“Next time,” he adds, voice lower now, “tell me.”

You nod. The lump in your throat makes it hard to speak.

He climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into him with uncharacteristic ease, like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. And when you fall asleep again — this time with his real heartbeat under your cheek — you don’t need the voice messages anymore.

Because he’s here.

And he’s not leaving.

Not for a while.

XAVIER

You must’ve fallen asleep somewhere between the sixth and seventh voice message.

Xavier’s voice had been the only thing holding you together this week — clipped and careful through the static of bad reception, but still him. Still warm. Still trying, even in the middle of the chaos he never talks about in too much detail.

He’d left four days ago for the mission. He was supposed to be gone for five. You’d counted every hour, every awkwardly recorded “Hey, just checking in” or “Did you eat today?” like they were pieces of him you could tuck into your chest.

You hadn’t expected him to come back early.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to come back to this.

To find you curled up on his bed— his hoodie engulfing you, sleeves dangling past your fingertips, legs tangled in the sheets he hadn’t even had a chance to sleep in since he left. Earbuds in. Playing his voice, over and over.

You don’t hear the door creak open. You don’t hear the soft sound of his duffel hitting the floor. You don’t see the way he freezes in the doorway.

“…Oh,” he breathes, very softly.

Xavier stands there like he’s trying to solve a very delicate math problem.

His ears turn red before anything else. Classic. His brain starts short-circuiting almost immediately, evident in the way he rubs the back of his neck and mouths something that looks like “What do I do?” to no one in particular.

Then his face does this thing — this softening. His lips part slightly like he’s about to say your name, but he doesn’t. He just walks to the edge of the bed, slow and careful like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast.

And he just looks at you.

His hoodie nearly swallows you whole. You’re hugging his pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you safe. He can hear his own voice, faintly, from the half-displaced earbuds:

“…I miss you too. Just hang in there, alright? I’ll be back before you know it…”

He exhales, shaky. Like all the air just escaped his lungs and took his heart with it.

You stir slightly, probably sensing him there even half-asleep. A soft mumble escapes your lips — his name, barely audible.

Your eyes blink open.

And then widen.

“Xavier?” You sit up too fast, heart leaping. “What—? You weren’t—? I thought you—tomorrow—”

You start yanking the earbuds out like they’re evidence of a crime, cheeks burning. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

“No, wait, wait — don’t—” Xavier flails a little, hands awkwardly half-raised. “Don’t stop. It’s okay. I just — uh.”

You look at him, eyes searching his face, confusion and embarrassment all over yours. He swallows hard.

“I came back early. I missed you. A lot. Like —kind of a stupid amount. And I just…”

He gestures vaguely to the scene in front of him. You. His hoodie. The voice messages. You.

“…I didn’t know you missed me this much,” he says softly, eyes dipping.

You bury your face in your hands. “I didn’t want to distract you. You were out there doing important stuff.”

Xavier sits beside you on the bed, not quite touching, not yet, but close enough that you feel the warmth of him. “Hey. You’re important stuff too, you know.”

You peek at him through your fingers.

He laughs under his breath — awkward and boyish and so Xavier it hurts.

“Also,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck again, “you look ridiculously good in my clothes, and now I’m never gonna be normal about it again.”

You groan, flopping back into the pillows.

He finally reaches for you then — carefully pulling you into a hug like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed. You melt into him, and he lets out a breath like he’s finally, finally home.

“I’m really glad you were playing my voice,” he mumbles against your hair. “I always worry I’m bad at those. I rehearse them, like, three times before I hit send.”

You laugh into his chest. “They were perfect.”

He hugs you tighter.

And that night, you fall asleep for real — no earbuds, no messages.

Just him.

RAFAYEL

You didn’t mean to fall asleep like this.

Not in his hoodie, not in his bed, not with his voice still playing quietly in your ears like it’s the only lullaby that works anymore.

You were just going to rest for a minute.

Just one more message. Just one more “Goodnight, my love,” and then maybe the ache in your chest would let you sleep.

Just for a little while.

You didn’t know he was coming home early.

Didn’t know Rafayel would walk through the door of the apartment while dusk still painted the windows lavender and gold, his suitcase barely in his hand, his heart pounding louder than the key turning in the lock.

He doesn’t call out. He’s quiet by nature, graceful like his presence is a secret only you are meant to know. He drops his bags in the hallway and moves through the place like a breath — like a man chasing something he already misses.

And then he sees you.

His hoodie hangs loose on you, far too big, the sleeves pulled over your hands. Your face is turned into his pillow, soft in sleep, lashes fluttering against your cheek. And in your ears, still barely audible:

“I know I say it too often, but I really do miss you. I can’t wait to be home, sweetheart.”

Rafayel stops in the doorway, and something in him just… breaks a little.

Softly. Quietly. Like the way a heart swells too fast in the chest and turns every breath into something fragile.

He steps closer, cautiously, as if afraid he’ll wake you. Or worse — afraid he won’t.

He kneels beside the bed, eyes drinking you in, his fingertips brushing the edge of the fabric where your hand curls into his hoodie.

And his voice — when he speaks, it’s almost reverent.

“…You wore my clothes,” he whispers.

You stir, just barely.

His breath catches.

Your eyes flutter open, dazed, and when you see him — when you realize — your whole body jolts like you’re waking from a dream you hadn’t expected to end.

“Rafayel?” you whisper, sitting up fast, tugging the earbuds out. “You’re home—? You weren’t— You said tomorrow—”

“I know,” he says gently, his hand already reaching to steady you. “I finished early. I… needed to come home.”

Your eyes flick down, embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to be clingy. I just — I missed you. A lot. But I didn’t want to bother you while you were working…”

He exhales. And then he laughs, softly. But there’s no amusement in it — it’s tender. Almost broken.

“Silly girl,” he murmurs, touching his forehead to yours, “you could never be a bother.”

You feel his hands cradle your face, gentle and trembling, like he’s scared he’s not real. Like you might not be.

“I don’t think you understand what you do to me,” he says, and there’s a crack in his voice now. “Hearing my voice in your ears while you slept — you don’t even know how much that means to me. How much I missed you. I thought about you every single night. I replayed your messages too. I needed your voice just to fall asleep.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up and take his hand, holding it against your cheek.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come home to something like this,” you say softly. “Me. In your hoodie. Needing you too much.”

His gaze sharpens, then softens like melting snow.

“This,” he says, “is exactly what I wanted to come home to.”

And then he kisses you — slow and warm and deep, like he’s trying to say everything he couldn’t over a thousand voicemails. Like he’s trying to put the word home back into your mouth.

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, the real thing.

No earbuds. No replays.

Just the rise and fall of his chest.

Just the sound of him whispering “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

And this time, you believe it.

SYLUS

The door clicks shut behind him with practiced ease.

Sylus steps inside like a man who knows exactly where he belongs.

The trip was supposed to run one more day, but the meetings wrapped early, and the first thing he did — before even grabbing dinner — was book the soonest transport home. He could’ve waited. Should’ve, maybe. But there was a pull in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

That quiet longing that always hums louder when he’s away from you.

He drops his keys into the bowl by the door, toes off his shoes without making a sound, and moves through the apartment like a shadow, soft and sure. Everything feels familiar but different — like the space missed him back.

And then he reaches the bedroom.

You don’t hear him come in. You’re fast asleep, curled under the comforter on his side of the bed. You’re wearing his favorite long-sleeved shirt, the one that swallows you whole and hangs off one shoulder just enough to make his chest ache.

And in your ears — faint, but unmistakable —his voice.

“…I’ll be back before you know it, kitten. Just a couple more days. You’ve got this, alright?”

Sylus’s brows lift just slightly. His lips twitch into a small smile. That calm, sure expression he always wears — like nothing surprises him, but everything matters.

He walks over and crouches by the edge of the bed, one elbow propped on the mattress, hand cradling his chin as he watches you.

You’re breathing softly, lashes casting delicate shadows on your cheeks, your body curled up like you were trying to make yourself smaller without him here. The faint trace of your favorite lotion lingers in the air — but beneath it, unmistakably, is his cologne. Faint. Faded. From the hoodie you stole out of his suitcase the day he left.

Sylus feels something flutter deep in his chest. Not guilt. Not pain.

Just love. That deep, steady kind that fills every quiet space between heartbeats.

“…You missed me that much, huh?” he murmurs with a smile, brushing your hair away from your face.

You stir slowly, a soft little noise escaping your lips as your eyes blink open.

You see him.

And panic flickers across your face. “Wait —Sylus?! I thought — You were supposed to—”

“Tomorrow,” he finishes for you, voice warm. “I know. Got back early.”

You sit up fast, yanking the earbuds out, fumbling for words.

“I wasn’t — I mean, I didn’t want to bother you— You had work—”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead before you can ramble further.

“You think I wouldn’t want to come home to this?” he says, resting his forehead against yours. “You. In my clothes. Listening to my voice just to feel close.”

You open your mouth to apologize again, but he stops you with a gentle finger against your lips.

“Don’t,” he says. “You don’t have to downplay how much you love me.”

You blink. That steady heat rises in your chest. He always says things like that — so smooth, so sure — but never in a way that feels cocky. Always like it’s a truth he’s offering you to keep safe.

“I missed you too, you know,” he adds, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I had a whole playlist of your old voice notes I’ve been looping when I couldn’t sleep.”

Your eyes widen. “You did?”

He grins. “What, you think you’re the only one who gets soft when we’re apart?”

You let out a breathy laugh, curling into him as he finally climbs into bed. His arms are strong and warm, and they wrap around you like they’ve been missing this exact shape. He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“You can always need me,” he whispers into your ear. “That’s not a distraction, sweetie. That’s home.”

And as you settle into his chest, the earbuds forgotten, you realize it’s true.

You don’t need recordings anymore.

Not when the real thing is here, heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

Not when Sylus is home — calm, confident, and all yours.

CALEB

Falling asleep here was like second nature to you now.

In Caleb’s bed.

In his hoodie — faded, too big, heavy with the faint, familiar scent of him.

His voice whispering in your ears through the looped voice messages he left you over the past few days. His calm, low tone had been the only thing keeping the ache at bay, even if every word made you miss him more.

“Pipsqueak, I know this is hard. Believe me, I hate being away from you too. But we’ll get through this, like we always do. Just a few more days.”

You hadn’t planned on crying that night. But you did, curled up on his side of the bed with your fists balled into the sleeves of his hoodie. You hadn’t told him how badly you missed him. You didn’t want to pull his focus. He had an entire unit relying on him — he didn’t need one more person leaning on his shoulders.

You didn’t know he was coming home early.

Caleb’s boots are silent on the hardwood when he steps inside the apartment. He doesn’t call your name. Doesn’t flick on the light. He knows where everything is — even in the dark, even tired from the flight and the drive home. He knows his way to you like instinct.

He’s been gone five days. Not his longest mission, but long enough that the ache never left his chest. Long enough that the quiet in every room made him feel too far from something vital.

When he reaches the bedroom, he pauses.

And stares.

You’re asleep. Soft, curled into his pillow, wrapped in the hoodie he forgot he left behind. One of the sleeves is pulled up to your nose. Your face is relaxed in sleep, but your earbuds are still in, faint sounds escaping — his voice.

“Hey. I know you probably won’t play these more than once, but I just… I need you to know I love you, okay? You’re everything I think about at the end of every day. Stay safe. Sleep warm. I’ll be home soon.”

His heart clenches.

Caleb crosses to you like something fragile might break if he moves too fast. When he crouches beside the bed, he sees the slight crease between your brows. You hadn’t been sleeping well, not really. Not without him. Not for days.

He should’ve known. Should’ve checked harder. Asked more.

A wave of guilt crashes into him, thick and silent. This wasn’t just his life anymore. It wasn’t just about what duty demanded.

His hand finds yours, fingers brushing the edge of the hoodie sleeve.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice rough. “God, Pips. I hate that I have to leave you like this.”

You shift slightly, the sound of his real voice blending with the recorded one, and your eyes flutter open — slowly, groggily, like you’re unsure if this is just another dream.

“...Caleb?” you murmur.

He nods, already sliding onto the bed, pulling you carefully into his arms. “I’m here. Came back early.”

Your arms wind around him on instinct, clinging like you’re scared he’ll disappear again. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“I know.” He exhales shakily, pressing his forehead to yours. “But I couldn’t stand being away another night. Not when I knew you were… like this.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you whisper, the shame slipping in. “You had enough on your plate.”

His jaw tightens. Then relaxes as he cups your cheek.

“You’re never too much. You’re never a burden. You’re home. You’re the only part of this job that makes coming back worth it.” He swallows hard. “I hate that I keep having to go. I hate what it’s doing to you.”

You shake your head, eyes shining. “I knew what I was signing up for. I just… miss you. A lot.”

“I miss you too. Every damn second.”

You rest your forehead against his chest, breathing him in, finally real. Finally here.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, holding you like a promise. Like an apology he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for.

“I’ll do better,” he whispers. “I don’t know how yet. But I will. You deserve better than voice messages and empty beds.”

You don’t ask him to explain. You just nod. Because he’s here. And for tonight, that’s enough.

[catchdempaws]

Grocery Day!

[catchdempaws]

Caleb refuses to let you give him a blowjob.

The moment you even hint at it, his jaw tightens, his head shaking as he pulls back just slightly, his doe eyes darkened with guilt. His mind is made up- he doesn’t deserve it.

Not after being apart from you for so long, not after missing you so desperately that it physically ached. He’s been starving for you, and the thought of you on your knees for him right now? Unbearable.

He’d feel guilty.

All he wants is to make it up to you, to devour you like a man who’s been denied salvation, to press you down into the mattress, fold you up until there’s nowhere to run from his touch. He’d rather spend hours mapping your body with his fingers, circling that swollen little clit until you forget the way he left you wanting all this time.

He should be the one worshiping you.

He wants to have you laid out before him, legs trembling as he buries his face between your thighs, drinking in every broken whimper, every little gasp. He wants to see your pretty face contorted in pleasure as he presses you into the mattress, your ankles hooked over his shoulders while he fucks you deep and slow, savoring every desperate squeeze of your cunt around him.

But you don’t listen.

You never do.

Instead, you drop to your knees before him, your eyes ablaze with defiance, and his breath catches. You ignore his murmured protests, his weak attempts at telling you he’s unworthy of this. You press your palms to his thighs, sliding them up slowly, teasingly, your fingertips barely grazing the bulge beneath his pants.

And when you unbutton his pants, when you pull him free and wrap those plump lips of yours around his leaking tip, his whole body tenses.

His fingers dig into the armrest of the couch so hard his knuckles go white. His head tilts back, exposing the beautiful line of his throat as a ragged groan rips from his chest.

"F-Fuck- baby, no—" His voice is strained, like he’s fighting himself, but the way his hips twitch, the way his cock throbs on your tongue, tells you everything you need to know.

You hum around him, dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft, and he shudders. One of his hands twitches, torn between pushing you away and burying itself in your hair. His entire body is trembling with restraint, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he pants.

“God,” he chokes out, his voice raw, his fingers flexing before they finally give in, digging into the armrest. Hard.

And the moment he tangles them into your hair, guiding you just slightly, you know he’s lost the fight.

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 2025 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[catchdempaws]

THE COLONEL'S INSPECTION - PT 2 .

summary: following the encounter with caleb in part one, you have a power struggle ending with him taking matters into his own hands once again.

warnings: nsfw (18+, minors dni), smut with plot, dubcon, bratty virgin!reader, caleb alternates between being mean as hell and sweet, very sensitive/responsive reader, caleb and reader argue at the beginning, a sprinkle of dumbification, squirting, this is genuine filth, unprotected piv, creampie, praising, implied size difference, lots of pet names, they really don’t give a damn about the plates or grandma’s table apparently, caleb talks you through it, actually caleb doesn’t shut up ever. lots of petnames including gege, pipsqueak, honey, baby, and good girl. use of y/n.

characters: caleb from love and deepspace (post-explosion with some edits), afab!mc reader. everyone is in their twenties.

wc: 2.9k

author’s note: biiiig thank you for all the love on part one, and i’m sorry this took awhile to update!  *if you missed it, you can read part one here.

tags: @mcdepressed290 @petulapetula @sylvieisoffline @boonbyu @kithyyy @kayylebb

caleb left you sitting in your bitter silence to heat up dinner. your thighs are squeezed shut, fists balled up on their softness, huffing and puffing through tight lips. you wanted to curse caleb, beat him, strangle him—  but the memory of his authentic grin quelled your anger each time you tried to condemn him. you hadn’t realized just how much you needed to see that smile until then. 

as the seconds bled into minutes, the air filled with rich smells drifting in from the kitchen. caleb claimed to only be heating up leftovers but you heard chopping, along with the scent of something fresh and earthy. when he returns, he’s expertly balancing multiple dishes: a large leafy salad, braised chicken with eggplant, perfectly steamed rice, dumplings, smashed cucumbers… and even homemade strawberry mochi. 

it was practically a feast of all your favorites. 

“i know you prefer matcha mochi, but it’s too late for caffeine. don’t wantcha up all night...” his words are punctuated by a clink of each dish as they’re placed at the center of the table in an enticing arrangement fit for a magazine spread. if you weren’t so upset, you would’ve been drooling. 

caleb immediately grabbed the empty plate in front of you and began loading it up with food. you watched him with your jaw clenched, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. this was a normal occurrence for the two of you, as bizarre as it seemed in hindsight. you couldn’t remember a time when caleb didn’t prepare your food from start to finish. 

this usually made you feel safe, supported… but now it was just another example of your stolen autonomy and the inherent dominance he had over you. 

“i don’t like eggplant.” you blurted just as the serving spoon hovered over your plate with a heaping amount of it. caleb laughed incredulously, “huh? is that some sort of joke, pipsquea-”

“i said, i. don’t. like. it.” you reiterated much more harshly. you didn’t care that it was obviously a lie, you were just scrambling for a sense of control wherever you could find it. the edges of caleb’s smile tilted downward, and for a beat you expect him to force you into eating it, but the eggplant makes its way onto his plate instead. 

it was hard to tell who’s more at fault for the suffocating atmosphere after he returned to his seat across the table. your hands remain planted on your lap, not even bothering to acknowledge the food despite your growing hunger. meanwhile, caleb was carrying on like everything was normal, devouring his meal with hums of satisfaction. unsurprisingly, he was the one to break the silence. “this may be harsh, but that artist tara loves is sort of a joke to me. he’s one of those guys that just throws paint on a canvas and calls it art. what did you think?”  

silence. 

caleb swallowed a mouthful of chicken before starting up again, this time trying a different angle: flattery wrapped up in nostalgia. “that dessert spot you two chose was delicious. actually, it kinda reminds me of that place we used to visit back home. you remember, don’t you? the one where you got scared by that fluffy white dog, and i had to hold your hand all the way home?” 

more silence. 

this got the point across for caleb— you weren’t just going to let what happened that night be forgotten like he hoped. he placed his chopsticks down on the table and propped his head up against his fist, all while never losing sight of you. 

“…you’re upset with me?” 

“what the hell do you think?” your retort was scathing, delivered through gritted teeth. 

he is visibly taken aback by your outburst, but it doesn’t take long until his irritation morphs into a forced smile. caleb’s long fingers tapped against the table impatiently, as if your disobedience was merely an inconvenient chore that he needed to get over with.

“i did what i had to do. that’s what i always do to protect you.”

the insinuation that any of this was for any reason other than his own selfish desires, was enough to send you over the edge. your plate of food soars across the table, aimed squarely at his head. he doesn’t jump, or even blink, still maintaining that harrowing look while a glass plate topped with hot chicken barrels toward him. your ‘weapon’ of choice hit a barrier just a foot from his face, suspended like a floating mosaic by his evol. 

“fine, you want this to be a bad night? then we can have a bad night.” caleb rose from his chair in a flourish, the plate and food crashing to the table at the same time. only his own food wasn’t contaminated by the broken glass that scattered everywhere. 

shit.

the wet ache between your legs worsened with each step he took towards you. you knew you needed to put an end to this before it escalated beyond something you two could come back from. you couldn’t be ‘inspected’ by him again, or else you’d risk revealing how deeply you desired him. your eyes darted around the room to search for something— an exit, a means of defense— anything to throw a wrench in his plans. 

unfortunately for you, any distance is closed within seconds. in one swift move, caleb pulled you up from your chair by your wrists, hoisting you up in his arms. he carried you back to his seat where you’re placed on his muscled thighs.

“you can be pissed at me all you want, but you’re going to eat a proper meal regardless. you’ve only had alcohol and greasy food since you got here.” he wasn’t wrong, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by outright admitting it. your lips pursed into a slim line, resorting to the silent treatment once again. with a small sigh, caleb’s steady hand scoops up a piece of chicken, including eggplant, and brings the food to your lips. 

“open,” he ordered.

that’s it? you thought, he just wants to feed me? 

you turn your head away with your nose lifted in an act of exaggerated disgust. “are you out of it? i already told you, i don’t like-” 

sudden cold firmly captured your chin to turn your face back toward him, forcing you to confront the strictness you knew all too well.

“Y/N, enough.” was all he needed to say to put an end to whatever confidence you had. your pout opened just wide enough for him to slide a mouthful inside. caleb repeats this motion, picking up the leftover food from his plate and feeding it to you bite by bite. the combination of sitting on his lap and being forced to eat would’ve been completely humiliating if not for the way it filled you with warmth. 

after twenty minutes, he stopped. 

“it’s strange, you've never fought me like this before…” he paused to swipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “even when you’re the most disobedient, you usually come around. yet, now it seems like you doubt my ability to guide you.” caleb muttured bitterly, his other hand absentmindedly trailed up your leg, nearing the folded hem of your dress. your mind flooded with rated thoughts, brought on by the lightest of touch. 

“i- huh?” while you were finding it embarrassingly difficult to stay angry and focused on the moment. yet, it didn’t look like he noticed your squirming at all. 

he continued, “you call me your gege, but you expect me to let you do whatever you want even if it’s reckless. i’m supposed to guide you, and i don’t plan to stop just because you’re naive enough to think you know better. if you think you’re going to keep secrets from me and blahblahblah…” his voice faded into nothing. you were far too entranced by the sight of his hand, knowing that those fingers had been inside you in a way no one else’s had. caleb’s hand stalled, snapping you out of your trance. 

“Y/N, are you paying attention?”

“what? n-no, why should i?” you huffed, flicking strands of hair out of your face that got misplaced during the scuffle. once again, caleb’s unrelenting gaze took apart every inch of you until there was nothing left except the truth you refused to admit. 

“you’re throwing a fit because i left you unsatisfied, is that the issue?” your already blushed skin reddened to a fiery red hue as he scrutinized you. 

“…no?”  you said without an ounce of believability. 

a moment of awkward, almost painful, silence descended as the two of you sit in the revelation. caleb’s face betrayed little emotion besides contemplation, and you couldn’t help but worry if you officially crossed the point of no return. 

you’re mentally preparing another poor excuse when caleb’s lips are suddenly pressed against yours for a light, chaste kiss— probing the validity of your words in the most direct manner. you didn’t fight him, you didn’t even give into shock, instead you met his kiss with far more intensity. 

while your eyes are closed, lips still locked together, you can hear the table being cleared with a sudden burst of energy. the plates and dishes fall to the ground with a loud, scattering crash.

caleb’s shirt is discarded on the floor next to your dress and panties in a bundled heap of soft floral print and white. at some point, between him hoisting you onto the table and slotting himself between your legs, he stripped you completely nude and himself shirtless. 

his was a chest you’d seen bare plenty of times in the past, but this wasn’t the same as your friendly trips to the beach or afternoons spent spectating his basketball practice. this was new, far more thrilling and irresistible. unconsciously, you placed your hand on his chest, sliding it down over his muscled abdomen to the whisper of hair peeking out just above the waist of his jeans. this earned a smile from caleb, who found the lustful look in your eye utterly delicious. 

“god, you're perfect.” he murmured under his breath. you’re wide open for him, panting, desperate— your pretty pussy completely vulnerable and begging to be fucked. it was better than any fantasy, any wet dream that he entertained through his years of repression. caleb made quick work of removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants, allowing his length to spring out of its confines. 

water filled your mouth at the sight of his flushed tip, dripping with pre-cum. he slowly slid a hand under your knee, holding open while he slotted his tip between your lips. you inhaled sharply as he smeared his slick over your engorged clit, trailing down your glistening folds, and stopping just outside your entrance. 

even without much pressure against your tightness, you couldn’t help but tense up. he was big, much bigger than you thought he’d be. sharing a house all those years apparently didn’t prepare you for anticipating his size, and you were having doubts. besides, was it really a good idea to lose your virginity to caleb on your grandmother’s table? 

“er, w-wait-” you stammered.

“hm?” caleb stopped but his tip remained pressed against your core, just a centimeter away from penetration. “why, what’s wrong?” 

“i… you’re way too big for my first.” 

“oh, i see...” his grip on your legs loosened ever so slightly, but he still didn’t move. 

“well, it’s like i said before, my role in your life is always to protect you, give you guidance…” he kissed your skin between every other word, starting from your shoulder and traveling up the tender skin of your throat. “sometimes it’s about understanding when to stop-” caleb’s lips just barely graced your’s now, allowing your heavy breaths to intertwine. “and sometimes, it’s about knowing when you need to be brave and push yourself.” your eyes widened in a stroke of recognition of his next move. 

“deep breath, honey.” caleb’s thick member pressed past the tightness of your body slowly, stretching you out inch by inch. his cock was so heavy and warm, you could feel every vein that throbbed inside of you. it felt nothing like your fingers, or his own— no, this stretch bordered on completely overwhelming. his mouth crashes into your’s to muffle your whimpers with his searing kiss, swallowing up your panicked sounds.

“f-fuck, gege-” you hissed against his lips, your delicate features contorting. 

“shh, it’s alright. you’ll get used to it in a minute.” gently, he squeezed the flesh of your hips to encourage you to release some of the tension stored in your inexperienced body. “c’mon, pips, open up for me...” a shudder raced through you, pulling the last bit of energy from your already weakened form. still, you try to do as he said and relax slightly, just enough not to be so taut. your cunt, soaked with far too much arousal and less tension, swallowed him up greedily. his hips shift again while his hands switch to pressing against your legs, allowing him to sink much deeper. 

“good girl,” a low approving hum rumbled in caleb’s throat. he carefully pulled out of you, leaving only the tip. “who would’ve thought you’d get so excited just from one little scolding... don’t tell me you like when i’m rough with you?”

“shut u-uuummphh…” he snapped forward just in time to shut you up, drawing out a ragged moan from the depths of your throat. 

“i guess i’ve got my answer, huh?” your slick created squelching noises with every soft thrust, filling the room with a lewd melody of your pleasure. “when we’d come back home for the holidays, i’d hear you playing with yourself through the wall. back then, i thought you just enjoyed teasing me, but- hah… now i see you get a lil’ dumb when your pussy gets some attention. you probably didn’t even realize how loud you were being, poor thing.” 

caleb repositioned you into the butterfly position, slinging your legs over his shoulders to pound as deep as he wanted. he graces an unfamiliar spongy spot that forces mewls out of you each time. “make sure to breathe, baby…” his voice manages to cut through the deafening buzz of your pleasure and you force yourself to take more controlled breaths. his thrusts slow again, focused on hitting your spot. your legs tremble under his weight, hips bucking but not able to shift away from the sensation. “that’s your sweet spot,” caleb explained against your lips, his tongue slipping out to trace along your quivering bottom lip. “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“oh my f-fucking god, c-caleb-”

hearing his name on your tongue eliminates any bit of mercy left in him. caleb’s thumb finds your clit, tracing circles at increasing speed aligned with the drive of his hips. your body becomes taut again, rigid from the unfamiliar sensation. but it doesn’t stop him this time, barrelling forward into your walls at an almost brutal pace. you can hear that your cunt is getting wetter, louder, and the feeling in the pit of your stomach feels different than any orgasm you had before.

“w-wait, shiiit! stop, i-i think ‘m gonna explode-”

“i know, i can feel it. go ahead, let go.” 

“but- what if it gets on the t-table?!” 

“gran’s not here to scold us, is she?” he grunted, never stopping his assault on your sensitive spots despite your plea. 

with one more thrust, you feel yourself break. your eyes seek refuge in the back of your head as your orgasm pierces through your body. a surge of essence races out of you, covering caleb’s cock and the antique wood below you with a stream of squirt. it comes in rounds— each time making you convulse a little more harshly. the only reason you didn’t twitch yourself off the table was because the weight of caleb’s body kept you still and wide open for him. 

you look divine, the soft sheen of sweat from your two intertwined bodies giving you a glow as if you were lit from within. your lips parted, crying his name so sweetly, like you’re teetering on the edge of completely losing yourself. “fuck, look at you-” he moaned, lining kisses along your jawline. “you’re so beautiful, even when you’re falling apart on my dick. shit-” you’re suddenly filled to the hilt, his balls tensing against your skin as he erupted deep inside of you. you choked out a whine, back arching up from the table as you tried to process the feeling of being impossibly full like this. rope after rope of hot seed spills from his tip plunged within you, ensuring that your cunt is forced to take every drop no matter how swollen you feel.

after what feels like eternity there, he finally (and reluctantly) pulls out. the two of you are left in the haze of your coupling as you slowly come down from your high. your regrounding is slow, with your body completely fucked out and your thoughts scattered, it’s hard to even open your eyes again.

of course, caleb noticed.

“pipsqueaaak…” he cooed while his fingertips playfully danced on your forehead, calling you back to the present. “you still with me?” 

“…mmm.” your lips curved into a hazy smile, one that looked aloof and unguarded. caleb’s chest swelled with affection. 

he chuckled softly, “good.” 

[catchdempaws]

THE COLONEL'S INSPECTION .

summary: after being apart from caleb for months, you and tara visit skyhaven for the summer solstice festival. he has… concerns about how you spent your time apart.

warnings: nsfw (18+, minors dni), dubcon/noncon, caleb is very controlling and a little mean in this, pet names (pipsqueak, silly girl, and 1 singular ‘gege’), fingering, virginity testing, smut with plot, lowkey badafabanatomy101, extreme jealousy, inappropriate use of evol, pre-confession caleb & mc, manhandling, orgasm denial if you squint. 

characters: caleb from love and deepspace (post-explosion with some edits), afab!mc reader, and tara. everyone is in their twenties.

wc: 2.9k

author’s note: soooo this is my first fic in like ten years… i hope you all like it! i took creative liberties for dramatic effect (i.e. mc’s grandma gifting caleb her antique dining table pre-explosion.) also, this was originally written in present tense before i switched it to past tense so if you notice any typos or grammatical errors…. that’s why rip. if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

* this will likely have a second and/or third part! 

visiting caleb happened less and less often. between your work with the hunter’s association, and his work as a colonel for the fleet, there was not much room in either of your schedules to meet up. that’s why whenever you had a few days of freedom, the two of you made sure to make the best of it. this time, luck was on your side. not only did you manage to get three days off of work because a big case you were working on concluded a month earlier than expected, but it also coincided with the summer solstice festival in skyhaven— and caleb said he would be free for most of your visit. what were the odds?

being freed up from the case meant tara could tag along with you, and you immediately invited her after asking caleb. he agreed to allow this with only one condition: she could not sleepover. it was a surprisingly rude request from the typically friendly and accommodating caleb, plus it was extremely inconvenient for tara. afterall, it was the only summer festival in skyhaven. most hotels would be booked up by now, and what was leftover would probably be low quality or expensive.

and your efforts to persuade him?

“i’m not changing my mind, pipsqueak.” he said dismissively although his tone was still cheerful. his rich violet eyes remained fixated on the new model plane he was assembling while he spoke into the phone, “this home is open to family, and family only.” even if you two weren’t technically family, you understood exactly what that meant— and no amount of pleading or batting your lashes would sway him. so, you begrudgingly told tara she’d have to find a place to crash for the entire trip. your friend, always the optimist, took it in stride and even seemed to enjoy flipping through the listings of premium hotels in the city.

“ooh! Y/N, look at this one! it’s got one of those infinity pools on the roof!” she’d exclaim while shoving her phone towards you over your desk of files. a holographic 3D model of the swanky hotel popped up from her screen. it was sleek and clean, mirroring the aesthetic that decorated most of skyhaven. you smiled and nodded in an attempt to feign the same level of excitement as her, but you found it hard to. 

for some reason, there was a growing sense of dread in the center of your chest. 

two days passed by quickly, with most of the time being spent trotting through the festival with tara and caleb— then finishing the night off at the bar with tara. caleb would say he couldn’t stay long, that he had something to tend to early in the morning, but that meant you two could enjoy yourselves without him. things were going smoothly… perhaps your worries were truly irrational afterall?

the first night, you and tara had gone a little overboard and were too drunk to end up anywhere other than the hard couch in her hotel room. the second night, you were invited out to dinner by tara’s favorite artist from the festival, you couldn’t possibly say no to her desperate pleas to tag along. that meant you had to cancel dinner with caleb twice, but you swore you’d make it up to him later. 

on the third day, you all decided to conclude your last festival visit with something sweet. the local shops were selling all sorts of solstice themed foods, and this particular parlor had brightly colored frozen yogurt with the cutest sun-shaped cookie bites topped off with iridescent sprinkles. you and tara couldn’t bare to pass it up, even though caleb seemed worn out by the constant activities. 

as you stood in line to order, he leaned down to whisper at a level only you could hear, “don’t spoil your appetite, pipsqueak.”  

that sounded like a threat.

you found a small table beside the window, and the three of you settled in. you sat beside tara, and caleb took the seat across from you. right away, the table was loud with lively conversation and laughter between bites of creamy sweetness. you all exchanged jokes and tidbits seamlessly, there was barely a second to breathe between the chatting. considering both tara and caleb were social butterflies, it was no surprise they got along well. 

somehow, the flow of conversation brought you to discuss each other's silly childhood habits. tara laughed at the way you’d steal his t-shirts from the dirty laundry to mop up any spilled juice and coffee, and caleb brought up how he would send you at least ten check-in texts every time you’d go out with your friends when you were teens.

tara’s eyes lit up and she nudged her knee against yours under the table. “oh, just like that guy leonardo! there must be something about you that brings out protectiveness from guys.” she turned to face caleb, “it makes sense that you’d do that since you two are close, but i told Y/N before that it would be so weird if leonardo wasn’t cute!” 

it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. even though you and leo were just friends, his feelings for you were hard to ignore, and you had gone on a few dates with him. you had told tara plenty of times that your ‘gege’ was protective, and wouldn’t be fond of the idea of you casually dating someone he’d never met. regardless of how old you both were, caleb was unable to shake this role. you blinked at tara, a silent plea for her to stop— be quiet, take it back, anything other than continue talking. 

she immediately caught on to the pleading look in your eye and attempted to backpedal. “i- i mean, not that it’s- hah- he’s not anything serious, of course. h-he’s a good coworker, is my point.” she laughed nervously, and you joined her in it. the conversation at the table carries on to a new topic, thankfully, and for a moment you thought you were in the clear… until you looked over to caleb. 

it was something only you, someone who had nearly a lifetime of experiencing caleb’s personality, would be able to detect. as he listened to tara’s ramblings about the exhibit of her favorite artist at the festival, the same one you two had drinks with prior, you immediately notice the way his smile fails to reach his eyes. in fact, his typically vibrant gaze seemed to have lost every fleck of color it had. he was merely going through the motions to keep up appearances.

the feeling of dread you had managed to shake off earlier returned tenfold, and the colorful dessert in your bowl suddenly became incredibly unappetizing. it melted into a puddle of sugary goop and soggy bits of shortbread as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

it was tara who first announced she would be turning in for the night. your heart fell further from your chest when you realized that meant being alone with caleb for the aforementioned dinner you promised him, and absolutely could not back out on. dinners with caleb were always a treat, but this time…

“it was good to see you, tara.” caleb’s smooth voice interrupted your train of thought. tara smiled widely and nodded, “it was nice to see you, too! you two have a goodnight!” she turned on her heels to walk in the opposite direction towards her hotel, while you and caleb headed back to his place. 

the trip back was full of what could only be described as bizarre small talk; retreading old ground, repeating details you’d already told him over the phone months ago, and answering questions that felt pointless to you. you wanted to shrug it off, to reason that surely the man you’d known nearly your entire life didn’t deserve to be treated so suspiciously, but this wasn’t meaningless small talk. he was fishing for information, attempting to piece together just what you were up to during your time apart. when the realization dawned on you, you suddenly became concerned about how every detail would be interpreted, and your responses shortened to a handful of words at most. 

you stepped inside of the familiarity of caleb’s home, letting out a satisfied sigh when the scent of him enveloped you like a warm blanket. “mmm, it’s always nice to come back to—” your words are cut off with a loud ‘click’, the sound of the door being locked behind you. 

“i already have dinner from last night prepared in the fridge, it just needs to be heated up.” caleb muttered while pulling off his heavy bomber jacket to toss onto the couch. the fact that this was likely the dinner you two were supposed to have the night before felt like yet another bad omen. “i- uh, great! i-i’ll set the table.” it was a habit you had picked up on in your youth. a dining table full of plates, even if empty, made you feel like your family was bigger than the one you’d found. you swallow down your anxiety and quickly trot to the kitchen, walking past the old table that used to be your grandmother’s. 

when you return, arms heavy with a stack of porcelain, caleb is standing by the table with his hands planted firmly on his hips. furrowed brows and underneath that, eyes downcast and unfocused. he appeared to be locked in deep thought.

“cal—?” 

“put the plates down and come here.” 

his tone was authoritative and flat—  the same tone he used when you were caught in a lie all those years ago. that persistent dread fully consumes you as you carefully place the stack of fragile plates onto the table and walk to his side. you looked to him expectantly, fists tightly squeezed shut, waiting to get scolded for your flakiness during the trip. in a flash, he pulled you flush against his body by your wrists, wedging you between his large build and the table. “a-ah! c-caleb, what the-”

“do you have any idea how fuckin’ rude you’ve been? how much restraint i’ve had to use lately?” his bionic arm, with all of its unnatural strength, takes control of your throat and holds your back firmly against his body. your frantic wiggling only makes the feeling worse, the metal causing red patches of friction on your throat. you have no choice but to stay still.

detecting your reluctant submission, he chuckled in bitter amusement. “ah, so pips hasn’t completely lost her mind…” caleb whispered, his warm breath skating down the side of your face. “cooperate and this will be over quickly.”  his human hand snaked under the hem of your dress, traveling up your skin and leaving a trail of heat in it’s wake. his fingertips gracing the frilly hem of your panties makes you squirm automatically, despite your efforts to stay still. 

he seemed to hesitate for a millisecond before his fingers roll over your mound. “h-hey!” you gasped, your entire body freezes in shock. caleb stroked over your pussy, the only thing between his touch and your skin being the thin lacey fabric of your underwear. his breath deepens as he traces over your folds, dipping a single fingertip down the center to trace over your covered clit. 

“you know, i didn’t pull strings on that case just to share our trip with someone else, right?” there wasn’t even enough time for you to be shocked by this revelation, caleb was moving quicker than your brain could comprehend. his hand trailed from your clothed heat up your body to cup your breast, rolling his palm over your nipple and then firmly squeezing the flesh. it was hard for him to control himself for longer than a few seconds, made abundantly clear by the way he alternated between roughness and tender touches on your hardening peaks.

“and after all i did, you have the nerve to skip out on dinner with me twice in a goddamn row…”

“caleb, y-you’re being-” your voice was trembling under the pressure of his robotic hand. it didn’t hurt, but it was rough and unrelenting. 

“and who exactly is leonardo? why didn’t you tell me about him when i called? just what did you do to make him think he could check on you like that, huh? it’s my job to protect you- or are you trying to replace me?” caleb’s questions are delivered in rapid fire succession, leaving no room for you to respond or plead your case. his robotic arm released your throat, giving you a chance to glimpse the dark blue and red ripples out of the corner of your eye. a heavy weight crashes onto your back, forcing you to lurch forward against the dining room table, your face crushed into the cold antique wood by his gravity evol. you squeal in protest, but all that does is make him press you down harder. 

he quickly hikes up your skirt once more until you can feel the cool air on your rear, which only solidifies how impossibly vulnerable you are in the moment. there’s another beat of hesitation, or admiration, from him before he pulls your panties to the side to fully reveal your pussy. caleb pressed his hand to your warmth, rubbing his knuckles over your folds slowly, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “c-caleb, please think about what you’re doing. t-this isn’t right!” you whisper in desperation, as if he’d listen.

“i know exactly what i’m doing. i’ve just never had to resort to this.” he murmurs disapprovingly. “i used to trust that you’d tell me everything, pipsqueak.”

“i have told you every- unff!” your eyes widen from the sudden intrusion.

“hush. i���ll be the judge of that.” caleb’s middle finger, long and thick, slowly pushes it’s way deeper into your heat until it’s fully sheathed inside. “we promised to never keep secrets from one another, remember?” you are rendered completely speechless as his digit explores your most tender area, a place no one but yourself had. sliding along your walls slowly, rotating, prodding. it’s not like he was trying to give you pleasure, but rather inspecting you. sensing your shock and confusion, caleb answers the unspoken question on your lips.

“i’m just making sure you aren’t doing anything you’ll regret... there’s no reason for you to fight this if you have nothing to hide.”

caleb slowly drew his finger out and then slid back in with a second digit. the extra girth made you flinch and teeter on your toes. he watched your legs tremble from the unfamiliar pressure, your pussy fluttering and tensing around his fingers reflected both your discomfort and inexperience. “tolerate it for just a little while longer,” he urged sternly. his fingers pumped as slowly as possible, stretching your walls carefully.

caleb’s touch inside of you felt so right— blissfully so, despite it all. it was like every inch of his finger was created for your cunt, every ridge hitting you just right and coaxing out more slick from your core. shameful pleasure began to build in your body within a few pumps, which didn’t help how pathetic you felt being subjected to caleb’s control so easily. just as you were beginning to enjoy this bizarre sensation, it ended. he let out an approving sigh and pulled his fingers out with a wet ‘pop.’ 

your body was still his. 

despite not being able to see caleb’s face, his relief was palpable. his gravity evol lifted off of your body, but you still weren’t able to move. a different weight was placed on your back to hold you against the table. when two hands are planted on either side of you, you realize that he had practically collapsed on top of you.

“silly girl,” his head leaned against the back of your’s, nuzzling his nose into the depths of your hair. the cold silver of his apple necklace slid against your warm skin, sending a tingle down your spine. “you caused all this distress for no reason… do you enjoy getting a rise out of me?” caleb chided, but his voice didn’t boast that biting edge from before. his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath of your scent, attempting to still his rapidly beating heart. 

slowly, reluctantly, caleb stood up to free you from his crushing hold. your panties and dress are put back in place with a gentle touch, and although you wanted to slap his hand away, your head was spinning far too much to properly retaliate. he then turned you around to face him, revealing your flushed cheeks– one redder than the other due to the sheer force he had used when slamming you against the table, yet he didn’t acknowledge it or even look slightly regretful. 

his bionic hand reached up to fix your hair, like he often did. the artificial fingers felt strangely cold on your scalp, and not at all reassuring when combined with the heated ache between your legs. just barely in your line of sight, you caught a glimpse of his throbbing member through his denim. a wet patch of precum had formed at the tip along his upper thigh, saturating the already dark fabric with his sin. the sight of it sends a rush of forbidden excitement through you, but you quickly avert your gaze to hide your budding desire. caleb returned your timid expression with a warm smile, this time it actually reached his eyes. 

“now, we can eat.”

[catchdempaws]

DO YOU WANT MORE?

nsfw (18+). includes implied marathon sex, unprotected sex, breeding, breast play, squirting, caleb fucks roughly but still does tender gestures <3, nicknames (pipsqueak is possibly the worst they could've picked for a canon nickname but this is my attempt at making it sound hot). filthy smut from top to bottom. likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

“C'mon, pipsqueak, raise your hips.”

Caleb squeezes your waist, his thrusts changing from a deep, persistent grind that makes you feel every inch of his cock to a fast-paced pounding. You've long lost feeling in your legs, and the only thing keeping you from sprawling on the bed is Caleb's tight grip on your hips, fucking into you relentlessly from behind.

“Ah...! Wait, Caleb, haah, no more...!”

Each thrust loudly snaps the bedframe against the wall, but it isn't enough to hide the squelching noises between your legs. Slick and cum drip down your thighs, staining the sheets into ruin. They get even messier with a few more thrusts as you gush around his cock unannounced, squirting into the cum-soaked bedsheets.

Caleb groans as your cunt squeezes around him, trying to coax out more of his hot cum. “Fuck, baby, you're so tight... Feels good when your cunt sucks on my cock...”

His hand slides to your squirting pussy, rubbing circles on your clit. More slick jets out of you, soaking his palm. Squealing, you try to crawl away him him, gripping tightly on the blankets that have been slipping off the bed.

The delicious pressure against your clit releases, but Caleb pulls you back to his cock. He straightens your back to press against his chest, bottoming out in a single thrust to hit the deepest spot in your pussy. “Ngh, why are you running away? Didn't you say you'd last longer than me, pips?” He pants against your ear, hand tenderly running along your side to soothe you, yet his hips don't stop their merciless thrusts. “Or are you tapping out now?”

Perhaps hours ago, you would have answered with a vehement refusal. But now, with drool dripping from your lips constantly agape from moaning, your clit too sensitive from his insistent flicking and rubbing, and your thoroughly-fucked cunt filled with his loads of cum, the idea of calling it quits sounds appealing.

“I'll do whatever you want, baby. Just say the word,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips molding over your neck to suck another hickey among the marks he already made. “If you want to stop, I'll run the bath and take care of you. We'll cuddle on the sofa and watch that new movie you've been looking forward to.”

His hips stop, having pulled all the way out, the tip barely brushing against your cunt. “But if you don't want to stop...”

Slowly, his hand travels up your torso, squeezing your tits. He plays with your nipples, evoking another gasp out of you. “I'll make you feel good. Fuck any other thought out of your mind so you'll only think of me.”

You whine as his cock rubs along your wet folds, catching on the strings of cum dripping from your pussy. The tip circles around your clit, teases at your opening, just putting it in enough to make you feel its thick girth, but he pulls out too soon.

“What will you choose, baby?”

Your hazy mind can't come up with clear thoughts, foggy from the pleasure. But forming an answer is the easiest thing to do—it's not like he left you with any other choice, anyway.

“Please fuck me, Caleb,” you sob, clinging at the arm cupping your breast. “Please put your cock inside me. Fuck me even if I tell you to stop. Cum... please cum more inside m- ahh!”

You're roughly flipped onto your back, but he holds your head softly to lay you down on the pillow. It's only at this moment that you get to see Caleb's face, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his temples, his lip bitten red from the strain of holding back. “Shit... you really do know how to rile me up, pipsqueak.”

He looms over you, muscled arms caging you on the bed, chest heaving up and down as he pants. He fixes his position, resting his weight on his knees, and he uses his hands to spread your legs wider. His eyes are dark with lust while he stares at your abused hole, spilling cum on the sheets below you.

“Maybe this time, I really will fuck you pregnant.”

The statement doesn't even register in your mind because he immediately thrusts inside, pounding at your cervix. You gasp, aimlessly grasping at anything you could hold onto as you lose your mind, a fresh stream of cum soaking his cock.

His abs ripple with each thrust, the dirtiest groans and pants leaving his lips. “Fuck, you're so cute... cumming already when I just put it in.” Caleb leans closer, catching both of your wrists to make you wrap your arms around his neck instead of the dirty sheets. “When did you become such a pervert?” He drops his head to suck at your tits, licking your nipples.

It's your fault, you want to say, but all that leaves your mouth are noises you didn't think you were capable of making until Caleb touched you for the first time months ago, and he hasn't stopped since. You heard couples would be insatiable for the first few weeks of dating, but it feels like you're never going to go past that phase.

“Can't even speak because my dick's too good, huh?” Caleb chuckles, thumb resting on your lips. He rubs the tip of your tongue, pleased when you dart out to lick him. “You're the absolute cutest...”

The sounds between your bodies are downright lewd. His cum sloshes inside you every time he fucks you to the bed, forming a creamy ring at the base of his cock. He's filled you up so much with his huge cock and cum, that you wonder how you even have the space to breathe.

Caleb's the type to try to be quiet, but he's not holding back his moans now, groaning his pleasure against your ear.

“This feels too good, shit... Feel like I'm gonna cum soon...” He tucks the hair covering your face behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss at the corner of your teary eyes, so different from the rough fucking he's giving to your pussy. “I'm gonna blow my load inside you. You want that, don't you?”

You nod desperately, leaning your face on his hand that's cupping your cheek. He smiles, nuzzling against you, but the sweet moment lasts only for a few seconds before he thrusts even faster, chasing his release.

“Fuck, here it comes, I'm cumming...” Caleb drives his cock the deepest it can go, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh, fuuuuck, I'm cumming!”

Thick, hot strings of cum coat your insides once more, crammed into the tight space of your cunt. Your squirt splashes against his pelvis and abs as you moan high and reedy, scratching lines down his back. He hisses at the slight pain, spurting more cum at the feeling, and he collapses on your body, making sure not to suffocate you with his weight.

“Ah... damn... I don't think I've cum that hard in a while...” He ruffles through your hair, soothingly patting your head. “You doing okay?”

“You're too intense,” you say, your voice weak and groggy. You wrap your arms around him, content to fall asleep and let Caleb take care of things from here.

“Hey, don't fall asleep now.” He pokes your cheek, trying to stir you awake. When you open your eyes, you see Caleb smiling, the one that means he's up to no good. “After all that you said, do you really think this will end with just one round?”

[catchdempaws]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — WHEN HE SNAPS AND REGRETS IT

a/n: this was an old work for a prev fandom that i found while looking through my google doc, so i spruced it up a little to make it fit the lads boys a little more, but most of it is the same! also unpopular opinion, i love the pipsqueak nickname and i love it even more when fic authors shorten it to "pips" IT'S SO CUTE

ZAYNE

The door slams.

That’s your first warning.

You freeze mid-step in the hallway, holding a freshly folded blanket you meant to toss on the couch. Zayne’s keys hit the bowl on the entryway table with more force than usual, his shoes kicked off without care. You can hear his breathing — sharp, uneven — as he moves around the apartment like he doesn’t want to be in it.

You peek around the corner.

He’s still in scrubs, half-wrinkled, stained near the cuffs. His hair’s a mess, and his eyes are dark hollows. There’s something about the way his shoulders are hunched — coiled, like a spring on the verge of snapping.

You swallow your instinct to step back.

Instead, you try your voice.

“Hey,” you say gently, quietly, like a test. “Long day?”

Zayne exhales through his nose, rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Long doesn't begin to cover it.”

You take a slow step forward. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” His tone is curt. Abrupt. You flinch — but stay where you are.

“I made dinner,” you offer, softer this time. “Something light. You haven’t eaten since—”

“God, can you just stop?”

The words are a gunshot. You freeze.

He’s facing you now, eyes sharp and wild with stress.

“Zayne…” you whisper, but your throat’s already tight.

“I walk into this apartment needing one second to breathe, and you’re already asking questions, hovering — offering food, talking about feelings — can you just give me space?”

It hits you harder than it should. Not the words — but the way he says them.

The volume. The edge.

The way your father used to sound just before slamming a door and making you feel smaller than the silence he left behind.

Your hands tremble. The blanket slips from your fingers and lands on the floor with a soft thud. You take a step back, but the walls feel too close, your ribs locked tight around the breath you can’t seem to find.

Zayne notices the shift in you immediately.

Your eyes go glassy. You’re not saying anything. Just… blinking. Holding yourself like your own body might break if you don’t.

He sees the tears before you feel them fall.

“Wait — wait, no,” he says suddenly, voice cracking. “Don’t — no, I didn’t mean—”

But you’re already backing away, hands rising halfway in that half-hearted gesture of surrender.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to help.”

His face falls apart.

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” Zayne says, stepping toward you — but gentler now. He reaches out, and when you flinch ever so slightly, he freezes. “God, I didn’t mean to yell. I never want to raise my voice at you. I didn’t think — I wasn’t thinking.”

You press a sleeve against your cheek, wiping away the tears that won’t stop. “I don’t like yelling. It — messes with my head.”

He breathes out a sound that’s half a sob. “You were just trying to care for me. And I treated you like — like everyone else treats me when I’m tired. Dismissive. Angry. Cold. And you’re not everyone else. You’re you.”

He’s in front of you now, his voice shaking as badly as your hands.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispers. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You look up at him, unsure — like any sudden movement might trigger another wave. But he’s nothing but stillness now. Open palms. Broken regret.

“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” you say softly.

“You shouldn’t be.” His voice cracks. “You never should be.”

And then he sinks to his knees in front of you, arms slowly wrapping around your waist, head pressed gently to your stomach like he needs to ground himself in the shape of you. Not demanding forgiveness — just asking to stay.

You don’t speak. You just run your fingers through his hair, slowly, over and over. And when your breathing starts to slow, he holds on tighter.

“You’re my home,” he says into your shirt. “And I hurt it. I’ll never forgive myself for that — not unless you tell me I can try again.”

You look down at him, cheeks tear-streaked. “I want to forgive you.”

His eyes lift, red-rimmed and desperate. “I’ll earn it. Every second. Just — don’t shut me out. Please.”

You sink down beside him on the floor, into the warmth of his arms, into the messy, painful truth of loving someone who sometimes breaks under the weight of his own heart.

“I won’t,” you whisper. “Just don’t forget — I break too.”

He nods, holding you tighter.

“I’ll remember. From now on, I’ll remember.”

XAVIER

The silence in the shuttle feels heavier than it should.

Not the usual quiet that follows the adrenaline of a completed mission, but something strained. Too sharp at the edges. Like neither of you can catch your breath, even though you’re technically safe now.

You sit across from Xavier, hands clasped in your lap, trying not to tremble. The mission was a success — on paper. No casualties. Objective completed. But it was too close. Too close when you were separated. Too close when you lost contact. Too close when you thought for a split second that he might not come back.

You’re trying to hold it together, but the tension inside you is unraveling, thread by thread.

“Xavier…” you say softly, hoping your voice won’t crack. “Can we just— talk? Or just… sit close? I—” You hesitate, then admit, “I still feel like I’m back there.”

He doesn’t even look up from the holo-screen he’s reviewing. His jaw is tight. His fingers tap too fast on the interface. “Now’s not the time.”

Your chest tightens.

“I’m trying to be okay,” you say, more fragile now, barely above a whisper. “I just need you to — be here.”

Xavier sighs. Not tired. Frustrated.

“Why do you need something from me every time things get hard?” His voice comes out sharp, unfiltered. “Can’t you see I’m trying to deal with my own mess right now?”

The words hit harder than they should. They’re not cruel, not really—but they come from him, and that makes them a knife.

You shrink back, eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to burden you. I just… I thought you’d understand.”

“I’m not your emotional anchor,” he snaps, then freezes — because he knows. He sees the exact moment your expression fractures. The flicker of hurt that flashes across your face like a dying star.

You stare at him, lips parting slightly, the burn of rejection rising in your throat before you can swallow it down. “Right. Of course.”

Your hands shake as you unbuckle yourself from the seat, turning away. “Forget I said anything.”

“Wait—” he starts, standing, but you’re already moving down the corridor, desperate for some distance. You need air. You need quiet. You need not to cry in front of him.

But you don’t make it far.

Your knees buckle against the wall just around the corner of the cabin, breath catching, the memory of the mission replaying behind your eyes. The chaos. The gunfire. The feeling of helplessness when the comms went dead. And now this — him — pulling away when all you wanted was him.

You don’t hear him follow, but you feel it.

You don’t answer. You hug your knees tighter to your chest and keep your gaze locked on the floor.

“I didn’t mean that,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

You blink hard. “You said it anyway.”

He crouches beside you, hands trembling just slightly as he reaches out — hesitates — and finally settles one hand on your arm.

“I was scared too,” he confesses. “I didn’t let it show, because I can’t. Not out there. But when we lost contact, when I didn’t know if you were alive… I went into survival mode. And when you needed me just now — I pushed instead of pulled. Because that’s what I’ve always done. But it’s not what you deserve.”

You finally glance at him, eyes damp. “I only ever wanted you to be someone I could lean on. Just for a moment.”

His face crumples. “You can. I was wrong. I was… tired and scared and I took it out on the last person I ever should.”

You breathe shakily, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “You scared me, Xavier.”

“I scare myself sometimes,” he murmurs into your hair. “But I’d never forgive myself if I let you believe that your feelings don’t matter to me. You matter. So much it terrifies me.”

His arms come around you then, warm and firm and anchoring you in a way no mission report ever could. You sit there on the floor of the shuttle, hearts thudding too fast, breaths slowly syncing as the panic begins to fade.

“I need you, too,” he whispers against your temple. “Not just in the fight. Not just in the mission. Here. With me.”

You nod, quietly pressing your forehead into his chest. “Then just… hold me. Don’t let go.”

“Never,” he says, holding you tighter. “Not even if the universe tears apart.”

RAFAYEL

The studio smells like paint and tension.

There’s a new canvas on the easel — half-finished, colors chaotic, brushstrokes angrier than they used to be. Rafayel stands in front of it with his back to you, arms crossed, jaw tight. His palette lies abandoned on the table, streaked with smeared reds and grays.

You hesitate in the doorway, watching him. He's been like this for days — restless, snappish, too quiet until he isn’t. His upcoming solo exhibition has devoured every inch of his attention, leaving little room for anything or anyone else.

Still, you try.

You always try.

“I brought you something to eat,” you say softly, holding up the tray with the kind of food he forgets to want when he’s deep in creation. “It’s not much, just — something warm.”

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t even shift.

You approach carefully, setting the tray down on the side table with a quiet clink. “You’ve been standing there for hours. I thought maybe —”

“Don’t,” he says, voice sharp like shattered glass.

You blink. “I just—”

“I said don’t,” Rafayel snaps, finally turning toward you with a look that doesn’t belong to him. Not the real him — the one who paints stars in your eyes and kisses laughter into your skin. This version is cold. Fractured. Exhausted. “I don’t need food. I don’t need conversation. I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m some broken thing you’re trying to fix.”

The air goes out of your lungs.

“I wasn’t—” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t trying to fix anything. I just thought you needed someone.”

“I need space,” he says flatly, wiping his hands on a paint-stained cloth. “Not pity. Not babysitting. Space.”

The word space lodges in your chest like a splinter.

You stare at him, stunned, unsure if you should be angry or just… heartbroken. But the tears are already stinging at the corners of your eyes, traitorous and quiet.

“You think I’m here out of pity?” you whisper.

Rafayel opens his mouth to say something — another line, another deflection — but he sees the tears. And everything in him stops.

“Wait — Cutie, no,” he says quickly, voice cracking. “That’s not what I meant—”

But you’re already backing up, trying to blink the tears away, trying not to let your voice break the way your heart just did.

“I know you’re under pressure. I know this matters to you. But you don’t get to make me feel like I don’t.”

He’s silent.

And then, quietly — brokenly — he says, “You do.”

You turn your head, not trusting yourself to look at him.

“I don’t want space,” you whisper. “I want you. But maybe I was wrong about how much room I take up.”

That’s when you hear the scrape of his stool, the soft thud of his footsteps crossing the room. He stops just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, but he doesn’t reach out yet. Doesn’t touch.

“I’m scared,” Rafayel says finally, his voice a hushed confession. “This exhibition… It’s the first time I’ve shown the real things. Not what people expect from me. Not the masks. Just — me. And I’m terrified they’ll look at it and see nothing worth keeping.”

You say nothing for a long beat, letting his words sink in. And then, gently, quietly: “That’s how I feel right now.”

He flinches.

And then his arms are around you, pulling you in with more tenderness than you thought he had left. He buries his face in your shoulder like he’s trying to disappear into you, like maybe if he presses hard enough, he can paint over the pain with love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “I lashed out because I couldn’t control the fear. But I never wanted to hurt you. You’re the only thing that keeps me from getting swallowed whole.”

You don’t answer with words. You just wrap your arms around him and hold tight, letting his heartbeat thump against your own. Letting the silence stretch until it’s no longer a punishment — but a place of peace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper eventually. “Even when it’s hard. Even when you forget how to let me in.”

His arms tighten, and this time, the tremble in his shoulders isn’t from anger or stress — but relief.

“Then stay,” he says. “Stay. And I’ll learn how to deserve it.”

SYLUS

The storm never shows in Sylus’s voice. It’s in the way his gloves come off more slowly than usual. In the way his coat remains folded across the back of the armchair, untouched. In the way he stands by the window of the apartment, staring into the city’s electric dusk, spine straight, but shoulders taut with the kind of restraint that always precedes a fracture.

You’ve seen Sylus under pressure before. He thrives on control. But tonight, he’s less conductor, more fault line — beautifully composed, dangerously close to collapse.

“They’re probing again,” he says at last, eyes still fixed on the glass. “Tapping surveillance threads, watching Onychinus operatives, cross-referencing movements that were never meant to leave shadows. Someone at Elysium is leaking information — and they’re becoming increasingly adept at masquerading as allies.”

You hesitate in the doorway, hands wringing slightly. “Is there anything I can do?”

That question — your question — snaps something subtle but sharp in him.

“You can stop asking me that,” Sylus says, voice low but laced with something volatile. “Every time something threatens to rupture, you offer comfort as though that alone might cauterize the wound.”

You blink, the sting immediate. “I was just trying to help—”

“And in doing so, you make it abundantly clear how little you understand what’s truly at stake.” He turns toward you now, eyes dark with restrained fury. “This isn’t one of your dreams where hearts and hopes rearrange the world. This is war in whispers. A battle fought in silence. Every misstep is a death sentence waiting for a signature.”

You recoil as if struck.

The words aren’t loud — but they cut with surgical precision.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” you say quietly, voice already trembling. “I thought you’d want someone beside you… even if it’s just to listen.”

He doesn’t speak. And the silence feels like exile.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, taking a step back. “I didn’t come here to be in your way.”

And then you feel it: the burn behind your eyes. The ache in your throat. The slow, awful realization that your presence — the thing you thought might ground him — is only another variable he can’t afford.

You try to turn away before the tears fall, but one escapes anyway, sliding hot down your cheek.

That’s when he moves.

Not a sudden rush — Sylus never does anything without precision — but something in him shifts, like glass catching the light before it shatters.

“Wait,” he says, his voice no longer laced with steel, but smoke.

You stop, barely daring to breathe.

“I didn’t mean…” He trails off, then approaches with the solemnity of someone approaching sacred ground. “What I said was unconscionable.”

You don’t meet his gaze. “Then why did you say it?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he says simply. “And I hate being afraid.”

You finally glance at him. His mask has cracked — not the one he wears for Onychinus, not the one he wears in Elysium—but the one he wears when he thinks he must carry the weight alone.

“I don’t know how to shield you from me — from the fate we are forced to carry out,” he continues, quieter now. “And the thought of you being entangled in it — of you having to enact such an impossible decision again — terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.”

You wipe at your cheeks, still shaking a little. “Then don’t push me away. You've never had any qualms about me forging my own path. Let me choose to stay. "

Sylus exhales like the confession has hollowed him out. And then, finally, he closes the distance and gathers you into his arms — not fiercely, but reverently. Like you're something rare. Breakable. Too precious to risk, and too loved to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “For weaponizing my fear and calling it logic. You are not a burden. You are the only calm I’ve ever known.”

You bury your face into his chest, breathing in the scent of ink and wind and home.

“I want to be here. Even if it’s hard,” you murmur. “Especially then.”

Sylus kisses the crown of your head, and something in him settles. Not the storm. But the eye of it.

CALEB

You find Caleb alone in his office, bent over a glowing tactical display. His gloves are discarded on the table, jacket unfastened at the collar. He hasn’t shaved, and the circles beneath his eyes are darker than the shadows cast by the ceiling lights.

He doesn’t look up when you step in. He probably heard you. He always does.

You take a breath. “You haven’t slept.”

“I don’t have the luxury,” he replies curtly, fingers flicking through holograms of ship placements and intel logs. “One mistake and we lose an entire outpost.”

“I’m not saying to ignore it,” you murmur, moving a little closer. “I’m saying maybe you could just — rest. Even for an hour.”

“I can’t.”

“Caleb, please—”

He slams his palm onto the console, startling you. The holo-map flickers. “Don’t you think I know what I need?!”

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. His voice wasn’t loud, but it burned. Sharp. Rigid. The kind of pain that’s been simmering too long.

He turns, eyes wide with anger — but the moment he sees your face, your stunned expression, your trembling hands, the fire drains from him.

You’re already backing away. “I was just trying to help,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he blurts out, stepping forward. “Wait — Pips, please—”

But you can’t. Not right now. Your vision blurs, and you blink hard, but the tears come anyway.

He looks stricken.

“I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” he says, quieter now, like the guilt is caving in around him. “I didn’t mean to say any of that to you.”

You try to compose yourself, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek, but it only makes the tears sting more. “Why would you yell at me like that?”

“Because I’m falling apart,” he says, barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t want you to see it.”

You look at him — this man who commands fleets and soldiers, who leads without hesitation — and you see the truth. His hands are steady in battle, but they’re shaking now. Not from fear. From pressure. From everything he carries and never lets himself set down.

“I always thought,” you say slowly, “that when things got hard, we’d face it together. That you wouldn’t shut me out.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice thick. “But the moment you came in, the part of me that was trying to stay composed… cracked. And instead of reaching for you, I lashed out. I’m so sorry.”

You watch him — his guarded posture crumbling, his eyes pleading, his voice no longer the Colonel’s, but Caleb’s. Just Caleb.

“You don’t have to be perfect with me,” you say, stepping close again, even though your cheeks are still wet. “I don’t need the soldier. I need you. And I need to know you won’t hurt me when you’re hurting.”

He closes his eyes, regret etched deep in every line of his face.

“I will never — never — forgive myself if I make you feel like that again,” he says. “You mean more to me than any title, any ship, any war. You’re my compass. My peace.”

When he opens his arms, you hesitate — just for a moment. But then you fall into them, and he holds you like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers. His breath is shaky against your hair. His embrace tighter than it's ever been.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “Even when I forget how to show it. Even when the weight makes me forget how to breathe.”

You don’t speak. You just hold him back, one hand curling in the fabric of his shirt, grounding you both.

[catchdempaws]

ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴅᴏᴍ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ

[catchdempaws]

₊˚⊹♡ welcome home !!

summary: the mission's over, he's safe. but something in caleb still burns, and you're the only way he knows how to cool it down. tags: NSFW, established relationship, rough sex, dry humping, unprotected sex, slight dom!caleb

Caleb is the type to fuck you right when he gets home from a long mission. 

The door hardly shuts by the time he gets his hands on you. No “hi” before you're crushed into him, one arm tight around your waist, the other fisting into your shirt, kissing you like he's dying for it. He's hard in seconds, grinding his dick against your hip like it hurts. 

“Missed you,” he mutters, dragging his mouth down your neck.

“Missed this.” 

And fuck, how he loves it when you pull him closer by that damn dog tag. 

He groans—low, guttural—and pants against your skin like a man undone. “Thought about you every night,” he growls, a hand slipping under your waistband, fingers greedy. “In bed, in the shower—couldn’t even hear your name without getting hard. Couldn’t think straight.” 

His fingers find you soaked, his touch practiced but shaking with restraint. When he hits your clit—pressing, circling, teasing—you cry out, hips stuttering against him.

“You should’ve heard me,” he rasps, teeth grazing your ear. “Trying to jerk off quietly. Thinking about you bent over for me, moaning my name, dripping for it.”

You can barely breathe, barely stand, your legs threatening to give out beneath the force of his hand and the heat blooming low in your belly.

He catches you like always: one hand steady at your back, the other working tighter circles against your swollen bud until you’re whining into his shoulder, hips chasing his palm like you’ve got no shame.

“Just like that,” he pants. “Fuck—that's my girl. That’s what I missed. The way you melt for me. The way you need it.”

He drags his jacket off in one fluid movement, the heavy fabric falling to the floor without a second thought. His hands are on your thighs next—lifting, wrapping your legs around his waist like it’s nothing. Your back slams into the wall, and he grinds into you again, dick thick and pulsing through his pants.

“I’m not waiting,” he snarls, fumbling your pants down with one hand, the other still bracing you like it’s effortless. “Don’t need the bed. Don’t need to be gentle. I need you now.”

You manage to nod, and that’s all he needs.

He frees himself in seconds, belt already undone, zipper halfway down. His cock is flushed, hard, twitching in his hand as he strokes himself once, twice, just to hold off the edge.

“Gonna fuck you full,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Not pulling out. Not after the week I’ve had.” 

He presses the tip against your entrance, dragging it through your slick folds with a shaky groan. He doesn’t push in yet, just nudges, teases, until your thighs are trembling around his waist, breath catching with every pulse. 

“So wet,” he grits. “You missed me too, huh? Say it.” 

“I missed you,” you gasp, nails clawing at his back. 

He smiles, breath ghosting your cheek. “That’s more like it.”

And then—he thrusts in. 

One slow, brutal push that stretches you open, drags the air from your lungs, and knocks all thoughts clean out of your head. 

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, hands flush against your ass. “There you are. So fucking tight. Made for me. “ 

He doesn’t move right away. He just holds you there: impaled, stuffed full, belly bulging with the imprint of his cock. 

Your walls flutter helplessly around him, and Caleb’s grin turns feral.

“I could stay like this,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Right here. Balls deep. Never leaving again.” 

But he does move.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty for just a heartbeat, then slams back in with a harsh grunt. 

The rhythm builds fast—brutal, hungry, like he’s cramming every day apart into the space between thrusts. Each pump hits your cervix, dragging cries from your throat, his name tangled in each and every one. 

You’re close already. It’s building fast—too fast. How fucking much did you miss him for you to want to cum this quick? 

“Feeling close, sweetheart?” he pants, voice rough. “Come on. Want to feel you fall apart.” 

You arch your back, hands trembling. 

“Fuck—there it is,” he growls, slamming into you again.

You break.

The orgasm rips through you hard—legs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders, walls fluttering around him. You sob his name as you cum, clenching so tight around his cock it drags a noise from his chest that sounds like he’s choking on it.

“Fuck, Caleb!”

You can feel him unravelling, too. 

His hips jerk, pace faltering, grip bruising and tight on your hips like he’s trying to hold the whole world together with just your body. 

“Shit—fuck—you feel too good,” he gasps, burying his face in your neck. “I’m not gonna last either, pips.” 

You can barely answer, your knees wobbling, core aching, and his dick dragging so deep you swear he’s reaching your soul. Your grip tightens around his shoulders, grounding yourself in the one thing that feels real—him. 

“Fuck—fuck—take it,” he growls. 

He slams into you one last time, staying there, buried completely to the hilt. And then it hits—a twitch, a shiver down his spine, his cock pulsing as he cums with a whine ripped straight from his chest.

He holds you through it, thrusts slow and heavy, dragging every last spurt as he fills you. You feel it leak around where you both are connected, dripping down your thighs, soaking both of you. 

And still, he doesn’t pull out.  

He stays there, arms wrapped around you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. 

“I fucking hate leaving you,” he murmurs, finally, forehead resting against yours. He looks completely spent. 

You lean into him. 

Then, quieter, more certain, more him—

“Next time I come home?”

He kisses your neck. “I’m fucking you before the door even closes.”

[catchdempaws]

got new piercings and i thought of smth silly about how it would go down with caleb

[catchdempaws]

“So fucking cute, Caleb!”

Your thighs burned with the effort of dropping your hips and picking them up again. The muscles nearly trembling as you attempt to steady yourself on his shoulders.

“You’re so cute it makes me mad.” You whine again, studying his blissfully fucked out expression as your cunt swallowed his cock over and over again.

“Makes me wanna eat you up…” you couldn’t help it, dropping your hips particularly hard so you could roll them against his pelvis. “Sh-shit, pips… easy…ow!”

Your fingers reach up, squeezing the fat of his cheek between your thumb and knuckles. The motion bares his teeth to you, making his mouth fall open in surprise as his nails dig dully into your soft hips.

“You’re just so cute, Caleb… can’t help myself!” You begin moving again, the bouncing shallows a bit due to the strain creeping up your spine. “Makes me mad how cute you are.”

You’re clenching around him, body tensing with the overwhelming emotions you feel. For a second, you swear Caleb’s eyes are going to roll back into his skull.

“My cute boy, the absolute cutest.” You finally let go off his cheek, falling forward to kiss him stupid.

“My perfect, cute boy.” You gasp as you pull back, hips working overtime as pleasure floods your veins. “My cute boy with the prettiest cock, right? My pretty cock to fuck.”

“Y-yes! All yours, all yours, pips. Promise!”

Tears collect at the corners of his eyes but he’s not relenting, his restless hips now flying upward to meet your sloppy thrusts. “All mine, I’m so lucky I have such the cutest, prettiest, sweetest—“ you can’t even finish your sentence before Caleb is spilling his load.

Banner from @cafekitsune

[catchdempaws]

Mc in Lingeries, Li addition

[catchdempaws]

Blobbus

[catchdempaws]

he must make his big blobbus wife happy

[catchdempaws]

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEA

[catchdempaws]

whatever man

[catchdempaws]

21:58 — caleb comes home and fucks you in his colonel uniform.

➸ author's note: just a horny drabble i wrote on a whim. he looks so fine in that goddamn uniform it's making me feral :( not proofread btw!

“this what you wanted, baby?”

you’re on all fours, knuckles white as you desperately claw on the sheets, knees digging in the soft mattress as your ass hangs proudly in the air. you feel tears well up in your eyes, feeling them almost roll into your skull from how good caleb was eating you out.

you just know it’s absolutely nasty behind you. he’s slurping your slick like a man severely depraved, and oh — how his tongue slowly spelt each letter of his name over your walls covered in white. he’s diabolic for this. sprawled out bare naked beneath him, and he’s all clad in that damn colonel uniform that he knows has you reeling for him.

the smooth leather of his gloves presses on your clit, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your sensitive nub as he teasingly pushes the tip of his tongue in and out of your gaping hole. you quiver, a downpour of sinister noises resonating around the room. it merely fuels him to drive you mad from his tongue alone.

“c-caleb,” you cry out, your vocabulary dwindling down to one word, and you chant it over and over again in a mantra, the oversensitivity triggering cry after cry as he’s about to pull another orgasm out of you.

how many times has he made you cum already? three? four? or maybe five? you don’t know, you don’t remember, you lost count. hell, you weren’t even counting in the first place. all you know is that you’re about to approach another intense peak.

“cumming again, pips?” he speaks against your sopping folds, the vibrations of his mockery has you arching your back into a deeper curve. he doesn’t even have to ask, he already knows from the way your legs inevitably shake, moans turning up to a higher frequency as your folds clench tighter around his tongue. he wants you to feel him, take everything he has to offer you.

oh, how he wanted to fuck you so bad as if you’ve downgraded into a mere fleshlight, his cock straining tightly against his pants, but nothing is rewarding enough without patience. so, he waits, waits for you to fall apart one more time in his mouth before he can finally fill you up like you’ve always wanted.

“caleb, caleb, p-please…!” you cry out, drooling against the sheets but you pay no mind to the mess you’re making, your thoughts fixated on the way his tongue and thumb drew patterns on your soaking cunt.

back and forth he flicked his tongue against you, leather-clad thumb playing with your clit and snap goes the string in your gut, gushing out like niagra falls and into his awaiting mouth. he laps everything up, lips engulfing your entire pussy as you uncontrollably shake beneath him.

his hands find their place on your hips, keeping you still as he finishes any remains from your high, only pulling away when he knows you rode it out.

“such a good pipsqueak f’me…” he mutters adoringly, loving eyes wandering over your bare body as he finally frees his cock from its restraints, not completely pulling his pants down.

you gasp, feeling the dripping tip tease itself against your folds, and you feel his chest press on your back, lips hovering over the shell of your ear.

“gonna take my cock like a good girl, won’t you, pips? your gege’s gonna make you feel so, so good…” he whispers, voice hot and sensual, aching with need as you finally feel the angry veins of his cock slowly breach your insides.

“ha… ngghh… caleb…” tears form in your eyes again, not from the pain, but rather from how good it felt. everything about caleb feels good, but nothing beats the way his girth perfectly sheathes itself inside you, only to fuck himself in and out of you for hours on end.

he chuckles menacingly from the way your face twists in pleasure, white-knuckled from how tight you were clawing on the sheets as the sound of skin slapping continuously bounced off the walls.

“c-caleb…” you sob, your mind completely gone beyond mush as you can solely focus on the way his cock kept kissing your cervix. “too much..!”

“shhh…” he soothes you, thumbs drawing circles over your skin. “you can take it, yeah? i know you’re a strong pipsqueak,” he whispers against your ear, voice ever-so gentle that it shows a stark contrast between his mean thrusts.

you try running away, the overstimulation overwhelms your senses to the point where you dwindle down into a sobbing and drooling mess.

“oh no, no, no.” if it weren’t for the steel grip he has on your hips, you’re certain your legs would’ve gone out by now. you let out a strangled cry, immobile as his cock kept rearranging your insides.

“just six more minutes, baby,” he murmurs, “six more. so be a good girl, yeah?”

you whine, unable to comprehend his words yet you nodded nonetheless, too cock drunk to care anymore. when he meant six minutes, however, he meant two more hours.