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Caught in the moment 🥂📸

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A lonely cat meets rose with thorns

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ᯓ ✈︎ apple of his envy

You arrive home late, far past the promised dinner time, only to find Caleb soaking in a warm bath. As you approach, you notice his expression, even in sleep, is etched with a scowl of annoyance. Gently, you bend down to touch his cheek, but before you can, he pulls you into the bath with an unrelenting grip. His arms are tight around you, his voice thick with tension and a hint of desperation, as if he had feared you wouldn’t return, or worse, that you had chosen someone else over him. In the steamy embrace, he reminds you with unspoken intensity where you truly belong—by his side. Even if it means sinking together into a bath swirling with sensual, envious passion.

lads caleb x reader

warnings : semi-jealousy, bath sex, bathtub sex, possessive sex, angst and hurt/comfort

6.5k words

rated : m

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62700367

A/N: This was a bit tricky to write—I wanted to make the positioning clear, but bathtubs are surprisingly complicated! Also, I couldn’t help but notice how much you all enjoyed the dry-humping fic. I’m really happy you liked the last one.

You exit West Garden Station and sprint toward home, your heart pounding with worry and a tinge of fear. Thoughts race through your mind, colliding in a cacophony of guilt and dread. You had promised to be home before dinner, but the day spiraled out of control. You meant to take a short break from your reports, but one thing led to another, and now it’s nearing midnight—four hours past when you were supposed to be home.

The air feels heavy, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance as the clouds above flash shades of purple. A storm is brewing, but it’s nothing compared to the one waiting for you at home. You know Caleb doesn’t mind when life gets in the way of plans, but failing to keep him updated? That’s what sets him off. You push your legs harder, running as though you can somehow outrun his disappointment.

You finally reach your apartment complex, breathless, your chest tightening as you fumble for your keys. Your trembling hands make quick work of unlocking the door, and you step inside, greeted by darkness. The faint aroma of red-braised tofu lingers in the air—a reminder of the dinner you missed. The silence is suffocating as you pull out your phone, using its flashlight to guide your way.

The living room is empty, with not a single light left on. The kitchen has been cleaned, and the only evidence of its earlier use is a faint warmth in the air. You move toward the bedroom, kicking off your boots, socks, hunter’s vest, and belt as you go. It’s eerily untouched, and the bed is still neatly made, save for a few wrinkles, as though someone had briefly sat there before moving on.

The bathroom door creaks slightly as you push it open, and your eyes fall on a shadowy figure reclining in the tub. Your hand searches for the light switch, and when you flick it on, the scene becomes clear. Caleb lies there, his head tilted back, a towel draped over his face. His arms rest along the sides of the tub, and his knees break the surface of the water. He looks like a marble statue, serene yet heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Light… off,” he mumbles, his voice low and flat.

“You want me to turn off the light?” you ask cautiously.

“Off,” he snaps, louder this time.

“Alright, alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender. Turning off the light and stepping out into the hallway, your heart is still racing. After rummaging in the kitchen, you return with a candle and a lighter. The faint glow casts soft, flickering shadows on the tiled walls as you enter the bathroom again.

Caleb hasn’t moved, still draped in his dead-like pose, but the candlelight softens the edges of his silhouette. “I brought a candle,” you say gently, placing it on the counter. “Just to give you some lighting and mood for your relaxation.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, but you think you catch the faintest twitch of his lips—a subtle acknowledgment of your gesture.

“I’m not relaxed,” Caleb says, his voice low, etched with an almost threatening seriousness.

“Why are you in the bath then?” you ask softly, sitting on the edge of the tub, your concern growing with every second.

“I’m stressed… thought this would help. It’s what you do.”

“Stressed? Why’s that?” you ask, leaning forward to touch his cheek. But before your fingers can graze his skin, Caleb’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist and pulling you into the tub with him.

Water splashes everywhere as you struggle against his hold, your clothes heavy and clinging to your skin. Caleb’s grip is unyielding, his strength pinning you down. Finally, you push yourself free, shoving his shoulders with a force that makes his back hit the porcelain edge. “What the hell, Caleb?” you shout, water dripping from your soaked hair.

Caleb doesn’t react immediately. He sits there, his head tilted back, the towel still covering his face, ignoring your anger.

Grabbing the towel, you hit his face with it. “I said, what the—”

“I know what you said,” Caleb interrupts sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He pulls the towel off his face, his eyes locking onto yours with a raw intensity. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were coming back. You said you’d be here hours ago.” His voice wavers slightly as he sits up, his hands suddenly gripping your face, forcing your foreheads together. His breath is hot, his touch desperate. “I thought you’d finally left. That you didn’t need me anymore. Or maybe… maybe you found someone else too…” He stops, his words choking in his throat. Instead, he rubs his forehead against yours, the motion rough and unsettling.

“Stop it,” you groan, pushing him away.

He falls back slightly, his hand covering his face as if shielding himself from his own thoughts. “Were you with Zayne?” he asks, his voice quieter but laced with suspicion.

“No,” you answer firmly.

“Your colleague. Did he drag you into his work again? You know he shouldn’t need you for everything.”

“No,” you repeat, your patience wearing thin.

“Were you hired as some overnight bodyguard?”

“Enough,” you snap, your tone cutting through the room like a whip.

“Enough?” Caleb laughs bitterly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Am I not enough?”

You try to stand, to pull yourself out of the tub, but Caleb grabs you again, his hold growing tighter. He drags you back into the water, his desperation palpable.

“Caleb, I’m still freaking dressed!” you exclaim, trying to wrestle free.

“Am I not enough?” he repeats, his voice trembling, his eyes searching yours for answers you can’t give. “Answer me!”

“Caleb…” you groan, prying at his hands, but his grip doesn’t waver.

Then, without warning, he places a hand over your mouth and the other on your back, dipping you into the water. It’s not forceful, not meant to harm—there’s no malice in his actions. Instead, it feels like he’s trying to calm himself, to ground his spiraling emotions. He pulls you back up moments later, your hair slicked back, water streaming down your face as his half-lidded eyes bore into yours.

“I was waiting,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “And while I waited, I thought maybe I could distract myself. Played with myself. But every time I tried to think of you, to feel close to you… my mind kept drifting to the idea that you’d found another home.”

“Caleb, I was stuck at work,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sorrow.

“For that long?” he asks, his tone teetering between hurt and disbelief.

You don’t reply. There’s no excuse you can offer or words that would improve it.

“I thought you’d found someone else to hold,” he continues, his voice barely audible now. “Someone else to need. To cook for you.” He laughs bitterly, the sound hollow. Dropping his head onto your chest, he nuzzles into the exposed skin of your cleavage, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Am I really that replaceable?” he asks, his voice breaking, his vulnerability spilling out like the water around you.

As you press his head against your chest, cradling him, your head resting on his, there’s a quiet understanding in the shared silence. His arms snake around your thighs, shifting your legs to fit snugly against his lap, grounding you both in this moment.

“No, you’re not replaceable,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady. “But even if I tell you that, I know you won’t believe me just like that.” Your fingers stroke his damp hair as you ask, “What can I do to assure you?”

Caleb tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an almost childlike vulnerability. “What’s the most important thing I need from you?” he asks, his tone imploring, as though willing you to understand without him saying it outright.

Your brows knit together as you hesitate. “To own me?” you offer, unsure, the words trembling out of your mouth.

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning back, still keeping you anchored on his lap. His hands rest loosely on your hips, but his gaze is intense, flickering between the water and your face. He brushes his wet hair back, the strands sticking to his forehead, his usually sharp features softened by the dull ache in his eyes. You’re transfixed, your fingers instinctively tracing the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his lips. His mouth is slightly swollen, perhaps from his teeth pressing into it—whether out of frustration, longing, or anxiety, you can’t tell.

Caleb catches your hand, kissing it with surprising tenderness. “To feel you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your knuckles again. “To know you need me.” His voice is raw, the words carrying an unspoken weight.

He shifts beneath you, his legs spreading wider to adjust your position as he pulls you closer, to him. His hands are firm yet reverent. “Though this feeling isn’t the most important thing to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “it’s one I don’t mind… as long as your warmth is on me—and me only.”

You’re hyper-aware of his body beneath yours, the press of his erection evident even through the layers of damp fabric. The friction sends a jolt through you as you instinctively move, attempting to kneel, but your movements falter, slipping against the slick surface of the tub.

“Let me help you,” Caleb says softly, his hands steadying your waist. His fingers find the waistband of your soaked pants. “Stand up for me,” he coaxes, his voice gentle yet commanding.

You rise slowly, your gaze never leaving his as he unbuttons, unzips, and peels the fabric away with deliberate care. The water clings to your skin, droplets cascading down, some splashing onto Caleb’s face as he maintains unwavering eye contact. With a quiet determination, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his touch grazing your thighs. You lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the discarded clothing, which lands with a wet thud on the bathroom floor.

Caleb’s hands trail up your legs, his fingers barely grazing your most sensitive areas before sliding beneath your blouse. His hands are warm despite the cool air, and they skim over your stomach before finding their way under your bra, cupping your breast with tenderness. His thumb brushes over your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion, “let me feel you in ways words can’t express.”

You drop to your knees, water sloshing over the tub’s edge, drenching the tiled floor in rippling streaks. Your fingers tremble as they grip the porcelain rim, your body leaning forward until your forehead rests against Caleb’s. His warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the steamy heat from the bathwater. His hand lingers over the curve of your breast, his touch equal parts grounding and electrifying. Time seems to stop for a moment, the world outside the bathroom dissolving into the sound of rain tapping insistently against the windowpane.

Your hand wraps around his, gently tugging it free from beneath your soaked blouse and bra, guiding it upward until his calloused palm cradles your cheek. His thumb grazes your bottom lip, tracing it with a tender slowness that belies the tension between you. Your lips part under his touch, and before you can think better of it, he closes the gap, his mouth crashing against yours with unrestrained hunger. The kiss is messy, teeth grazing as his lips claim yours, an edge of desperation bleeding into every movement.

His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling it slightly before his tongue sweeps over the sting, soothing and coaxing. His hands slip to your back, the broad span of his palms pressing you against him, molding your bodies together. Your arms loop around his neck in a frantic embrace, pulling him so close it feels as though you might never let go. The friction of your lower halves grazing, ignites a fire that licks at every nerve ending, an ache building deep and insistent.

Caleb pulls away suddenly, leaving you breathless, his chest heaving as he struggles to regain control. His hands find your hips, pushing you back until your spine meets the cold, slick surface of the tub. You let out a soft gasp at the sudden chill, your legs laying open as though of their own accord, your knees resting against the tub’s edges. The candlelight flickers across his face, half glowing warm and golden, the other lost in the inky shadows cast by the storm outside. The duality of light and darkness mirrors the push and pull between the gentleness in his touch and the raw, carnal need in his gaze.

His eyes trail over you, lingering on the translucent fabric of your blouse clinging to your skin. The faint outline of your bra beneath it seems to taunt him, his jaw tightening as his restraint frays. Slowly, almost reverently, his lips find yours again, softer this time but no less intense. His hands move with a deliberate urgency, tracing the soaked fabric to the buttons that run down your front. With a sharp tug, they give way, scattering across the floor with muted clinks, the sound swallowed by the storm’s distant rumble.

The blouse slips from your shoulders, the wet fabric sticking briefly before it’s discarded to the water enveloping you. Caleb doesn’t stop, his hands finding the delicate straps of your bra. Frustration flashes in his eyes as his fingers fumble with the clasp, his impatience winning out. He hooks his fingers under the straps and pulls, the lace and elastic giving way with a sharp snap. The ruined garment joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, leaving your skin bare beneath his gaze.

His breath catches, and his eyes drink you in with a reverence that sends a shiver racing down your spine. He lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing you deeper into the curve of the tub. The contact is intoxicating, and his warmth bleeding into your skin as your legs near around his hips, anchoring him to you. The water churns around you, soap bubbles bursting and clinging to your bodies as you move together, the rhythm driven by a shared, unspoken need.

You grip his shoulders, your nails biting into his slick skin as his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck. The storm outside roars louder, the thunder echoing through the room, but it’s distant compared to the pounding of your heart, the ragged sounds of your breaths mingling with his. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan feels like a fuse burning faster, drawing you closer to the edge of something neither of you can control.

"Caleb…" you breathe out, your voice trembling as his lips trail along your jawline, their warmth lingering before descending to your neck. His mouth moves with purpose, licking at your sensitive skin before returning to claim your lips. His tongue dances with yours, the intimacy deepening with every heated second.

Your fingers find their way into his damp hair, grasping at it as though it’s the only anchor you have. He pulls away briefly, his eyes dark with desire as he takes one of your hands. Without breaking eye contact, he brings two of your fingers to his mouth, his tongue swirling around them sensually. The heat of his mouth and the slickness of his saliva send shivers through you. After a few lingering seconds, he releases them, your fingers now glistening.

Without thinking, you bring them to your lips, smearing the saliva across them like a makeshift balm, feeling the moisture cool in the air. Your gaze flickers to him, your expression daring and full of intent. Slowly, you shift yourself over, moving with purpose. Your knees find ground on the porcelain base as you lean forward, your torso arched enticingly. Your free hand grips the edge of the tub tightly for support, while your hips tilt back, pressing your rear firmly against Caleb’s groin.

The anticipation is electric as you use the slickness of his saliva to guide your hand under you, seeking out your sweet spot. Meanwhile, Caleb teases at your entrance with the tip of his length, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Mmnh," you moan softly, biting your lip as the ache of desire builds.

For a moment, both of you hover in this space of mutual teasing, pushing each other closer to the edge without fully giving in. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your body’s response undeniable as you prepare yourself for him.

Finally, your hand pulls away from your sweet spot, and you grip the opposite side of the tub, bracing yourself. Caleb wastes no time, his hands steadying your hips as he slowly slides himself inside. The touch is perfect, the heat overwhelming, and a low grunt escapes his lips at the sensation of you enveloping him.

"Nnngh," you whimper, your head tilting forward as his hips begin to move. He starts slowly, almost experimentally, before gradually picking up speed. The rhythm of his movements becomes more deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.

Your soapy hands begin to slip against the tub’s edge, the lack of grip threatening to throw you off balance. Sensing your struggle, Caleb tilts over your back, his chest pressing against your back, his heat enveloping you entirely. His hands cover yours, his fingers slipping between to lock them in place, giving you the stability you need.

The two of you move together in perfect harmony, the water rippling and splashing around you, the air thick with the sounds of pleasure and desire. The combination of his touch and the feeling of him inside you drives you to the brink, your senses overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

With a grip that is almost trembling, Caleb pulls your hair to one side, his fingers threading through the damp strands, only to find their spot again on your hands. His breath is warm and unsteady against your ear. He exhales a low, shaky sound that makes your stomach twist. His lips brush your skin, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he lingers, his breathing heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s battling something in his head.

“You kept me waiting,” he whispers, the words coming out slower than usual, his voice laced with something quiet but raw. “I thought—” He stops himself, cutting off whatever thought had started to spill.

His lips press to the curve of your shoulder, his kisses softer than usual, more hesitant, like he’s savoring every inch of you, trying to remind himself you’re still here. His hips rock forward, slow and deliberate, and the movement forces your legs to spread wider, your back arching into him instinctively. But even as he moves, even as he drowns himself in you, there’s a tightness in the way he holds you.

You turn your head slightly, catching his gaze through your peripheral vision. His eyes are shadowed, darkened by more than just the dim candlelight. There’s something in them that makes your chest ache—something vulnerable, something afraid.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, knowing exactly where his mind has taken him.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his grip tightens around your hands. "You say that now," he mutters, pressing his forehead against the side of your head. "But people get tired. They move on. They find something— someone —better. More exciting. More… necessary ." His voice dips on that last word, almost like it pains him to say it aloud.

You turn your head fully this time, your nose brushing against his cheek, and he closes his eyes as if it’s too much to look at you right now.

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he admits, so quietly it’s almost swallowed by the rain hitting the window.

Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly thick with emotion. With both your hands still locked in his, you squeeze, trying to ground him, trying to reassure him in the only way he’ll let you. “You won’t be,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Caleb finally opens his eyes, searching yours as if testing the weight of your words.

"Prove it," he murmurs, his voice no longer commanding, no longer tainted with jealousy—just desperate. Just pleading. "Stay right here. Just… let me feel you.”

Letting go of your fingers, his arms envelop you in a way that feels both possessive and desperate. The heat of his breath fans over your neck as he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before trailing down to your shoulder.

You can feel it in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his body molds so perfectly against yours as he spoons you from behind. One hand cups your breast, kneading, his thumb rolling over your nipple, sending small shocks of pleasure down your spine. The other dips lower, fingertips teasing over your sweet spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that match the lazy, deep rhythm of his thrusts inside you.

A shiver runs through you, not just from the pleasure but from the way he’s holding you—as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Caleb…” you breathe, his name slipping from your lips like a plea, a prayer.

“Please…” his voice is hoarse, strained, “keep—” he groans, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains control, “keep saying my name.”

His movements are slow but insistent, his lips never leaving your skin, as if grounding himself in you, as if needing the reassurance that you’re still here.

You moan again, letting his name tumble from your lips like a mantra, and you feel his breath hitch against your neck. His grip on you tightens, his thrusts pushing just a little deeper, his fingers pressing just a little harder.

But then, you feel it—his hesitation.

The momentary pause in his rhythm, the way his lips linger on your skin like he wants to say something but can’t. It’s in the way his fingers tremble slightly against you, the way his breath falters, the way his arms tighten around you just a little too much.

Your heart clenches, the realization settling in.

He’s scared.

Not of losing you physically, no—that’s not the kind of fear that grips him. It’s something deeper. The thought of someone else replacing him, someone else becoming the one you turn to, the one you whisper your secrets to, the one whose name you say when you need comfort.

The one who matters to you.

You shift slightly, pressing your body even closer against him as if trying to reassure him without words. Your hand moves to cover the one he has on your chest, fingers intertwining, holding him there.

“I’m here,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it. You know he does because his body stills for just a second before he exhales, a deep, shaky breath against your skin.

And then, he moves again—faster now, rougher, his hands leaving your breast and sweet spot to grip your hip, holding you in place as he thrusts harder.

As if trying to prove something.

As if trying to remind you that it’s his name you say.

That it’s his touch you crave.

That it’s him . Only him .

As your remaining hand slips off the tub's edge, it instinctively reaches behind you, cradling Caleb's head against your shoulder with a tender yet unyielding grip. The other arm remains steadfast, covering the arm Caleb has wrapped around your chest, holding him close as the warmth of the water and the intensity of the moment envelop you both. Your body begins to rock back and forth, a gentle yet insistent motion that helps Caleb deepen his penetration, the sensation sending shivers down you.

Caleb's teeth sink into your shoulder, the bite hard enough to make you hiss, a sharp intake of breath that mingles with the sound of water splashing around you. It's as if the deepwater waves are engulfing you both, pulling you under with their relentless rhythm. As Caleb leans back onto his side of the bathtub, his arms release their hold on your body, only to wrap around your neck, pulling you into a tight, almost suffocating embrace.

You find yourself practically sitting on his lap, your body tilted back against his shoulder, his arms tightening around your neck like a vice. Your hands grasp the edge of the tub once more, and you begin to bounce up and down, the motion sending waves of pleasure through your body. Caleb's whimper of "Fuck…" is music to your ears, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

Your moans are stifled by the chokehold, but you manage to gasp out a few words, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. One of Caleb's arms releases its grip on your neck, only to find its way to your sweet spot once more, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You take control of the penetration, moving up and down with a frenzied intensity, while Caleb focuses on making you feel good, his other arm still wrapped tightly around your neck.

As he presses his lips against your ear, his breath hot and erratic, his words slurred with desire, "This is what I want," he groans. "I… want us to be one…" The sentiment sends a shiver down your spine, and you continue to bounce, going even faster, your body straining towards release.

Your words are barely intelligible, but Caleb finds your struggle seductive, "Ask again?" he whispers, his voice a low, husky growl.

You manage to gasp out a few words, "Tou…ch…me…" your saliva dripping from your lips as you point to your breasts, "Plea…se."

Caleb's arm releases the chokehold, massaging your breasts with a gentle yet insistent touch, sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You turn your head, whispering sweet nothings into Caleb's ear, "Yours… Always yours…" The words seem to send him over the edge, and he sighs, his body relaxing into the moment.

As you continue to move, a final kiss lingers on Caleb’s lips before you shift forward, your hands plunging into the warm water, pressing against the smooth base of the tub. Your body arches instinctively, your back curving as if offering yourself to him, the motion a silent plea, a shared rhythm that neither of you can resist.

The water sways and splashes around you, cascading against the porcelain, a steady pulse in tune with your bodies. Your hips roll and press against his, the friction igniting every nerve between you. Caleb’s breath grows heavier, a low, husky whimper slipping from his lips as his fingers tighten around the tub’s edge.

You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of him—his head tilted back, his throat exposed, an image of surrender and control all at once. His eyes are barely open, dark lashes fluttering, yet within the narrow slits, a glimmer shines through. He’s watching you, devouring the way your body moves, the way your lips part as you stifle your sounds of pleasure.

There is something unspoken between you, something deeper than mere desire. It’s in the way his fingers twitch as if resisting the urge to reach for you again, in the way his breath hitches when you shift just right. The water, the heat, the tension—it all builds into something near unbearable, an intensity neither of you can escape.

You face forward again, and the sound of Caleb’s fingers tapping—no, clawing—at the tub’s edges fills the air, a silent display of restraint unraveling. The water ripples around you, heated waves splashing against your skin as you move with growing urgency, your hips rolling and pressing down in time with Caleb’s eager thrusts.

“Haa… ha…” you breathe, your voice breaking into the humid air, swallowed by the rising tension between you.

Then, a shift—your body twisting as you turn to face him, your legs spreading to straddle him completely. The moment your gaze locks onto his, you slow just enough to let him take in the sight of you. Your hands slide up your cheeks, fingers tangling into your damp hair, lifting it, teasing, as your hips begin to circle in slow, hypnotic rolls against his lap. Every movement is deliberate, each sway of your hips a silent dance meant for him alone.

Caleb watches, utterly mesmerized. His breath hitches, and his lips are slightly parted as if he is unable to find the words to describe what you’re doing to him. His fingers twitch at the edges of the tub before finally releasing their grip. Instead, his hands find your waist, strong fingers digging into your skin as he matches your rhythm. His own urgency is evident in the way he guides you—rougher, more desperate.

Your own hands glide down from your hair, trailing over your collarbone, down your chest, teasing, fondling, reveling in the sensation. Your damp strands of hair cling to your face, framing your half-lidded eyes, and through the veil of tangled locks, you see Caleb watching—spellbound, lost in you.

The water sloshes violently against the porcelain, the sound a mere backdrop to the intoxicating symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered gasps. Your fingers find the tub’s edge again, gripping for leverage as your movements become wilder, and faster. Caleb meets you with equal fervor, his hands holding you tighter, guiding you, urging you.

Your head tilts back, and your wet, unruly hair cascades over your shoulders, sticking to your skin in dark waves. The feeling builds, winding tightly inside you like a fire threatening to consume you both.

You lean back, letting the warm water envelop you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands reach blindly through the rippling depths, searching for Caleb. The moment your fingers brush against his skin, he shifts, adjusting above you, the weight of his presence pressing closer.

Then, the pressure tightens—Caleb submerges, following you into the water’s embrace. The world above grows muted, distant, leaving only the sound of your racing heart and the rush of bubbles breaking between you. His lips find yours beneath the surface, soft yet insistent, melding against yours in an urgent kiss. His hands slide down your body, fingers finding your thigh and pulling you against him.

Even beneath the water, his movements are fluid, and precise—a rhythm that sends ripples through you both. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your bodies move in perfect sync, the weightlessness making every sensation feel heightened, electric. The water shifts with your movements, a silent witness to your shared intensity.

Then, in one swift motion, Caleb lifts you, breaking the surface. The rush of air fills your lungs, but before you can fully recover, your back meets the cool porcelain with a forceful thud. The contrast of heat and cold, of water and open air, sends a jolt through your system.

Caleb towers over you, droplets streaming down his face, his breath heavy and erratic. His hands remain firm, one still gripping your thigh, the other braced against the tub. His body moves with reckless abandon, each motion deep, and relentless. Water sloshes over the edge, cascading onto the floor, forgotten.

His grunts mix with ragged breaths, his voice breaking through the sound of splashing water. Your gasps mirror his, the tension between you coiling tighter with every movement. Every sensation—his touch, his breath, the warmth of his body against yours—feels amplified, consuming.

His fingers tighten their hold, his pace unrelenting, pulling you both toward the inevitable, where words no longer matter—only feeling, only this.

Caleb shifts, guiding your legs over the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain a stark contrast against your heated skin. A shiver of anticipation courses through you, a delicious tension coiling in your stomach. His hands planted firmly on the tub’s rim, framing your face, caging you beneath him. You tilt your head back, searching his eyes—those dark, smoldering depths that drink you in like you’re something sacred.

Droplets of water fall from his damp hair, landing softly against your skin and trickling down like whispers of rain. The heat of his breath fans against your lips as he leans in closer, his voice hushed yet commanding.

“Look at you…” His tone is rich and reverent. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening around his arms. Then his lips crash against yours—hungry, unyielding as if he’s trying to claim every unspoken word between you. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting in a slow, intoxicating dance. Your fingers weave into his wet hair, pulling him closer, savoring the taste of him—faint traces of warmth and something undeniably his.

Then, with one swift movement, he shifts, pressing deeper, and a strangled gasp slips from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him. He swallows your moan, his own breath stuttering as he holds still for a moment as if grounding himself in the way you fit so perfectly beneath him.

Your nails press into his skin, trailing down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. Caleb’s forehead presses to yours, his voice a shaky whisper against your lips.

“Tell me…” His breath is ragged, his body taut with restraint. “Tell me you feel this too.”

Your voice is barely more than a whimper. “I feel everything…”

He groans, his grip tightening, his body responding with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. You arch into him, your breaths coming in gasps, your senses drowning in the heat, the sound of water sloshing around you, the deep timbre of his voice breaking between heavy breaths.

“Say my name,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your pulse point, where his tongue flicks, teasing.

“Caleb…” You breathe it like a prayer.

His lips curve into a knowing smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken, something primal.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist, his movements deep, slow, deliberate. The way he looks at you—like you are the only thing in the world—sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“My world… my life,” your voice is soft, yet resolute, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin. “It includes you.”

Caleb stills. A breath catches in his throat, his body rigid as your words sink in. For a moment, the possessiveness, and the urgency, all dissolve into nothing. What remains is something raw—something unguarded. His lips find yours again, but this time, the kiss is different. It’s not hungry. It’s not desperate. It’s deep, steady, a silent confession. A kiss of understanding, of devotion.

It’s a kiss of acceptance.

His hands, once gripping with unrelenting fervor, now hold you like you’re something fragile, something irreplaceable. He’s always claimed you as his, but now, in this moment, he understands—he is yours just as much. There is no fear of loss, no silent battle for reassurance. He is here. He is loved. And he finally believes it.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is breathless, a whisper against your lips, though his body continues to move—slow, as if savoring every second.

You respond with a soft hum, your body shuddering against him. The peak of your pleasure had passed moments ago, but you hold on, staying with him, letting him embrace this moment fully. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

“Nngh…” His breath stutters, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips as his body tenses, shuddering against yours.

And then, release.

His grip tightens, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as he finally lets go, his breath heavy, tangled with yours. There is no rush to part, no need for words. Only the quiet rise and fall of your chests, the lingering warmth between you, and the unspoken promise sealed between your lips.

Caleb shifts, his movements slow and tender as he guides your bodies into a new position—his back resting against the cool porcelain while you lay against him, your body melting into his warmth. His arms encircle you, securing you against his chest, your head finding solace on his shoulder.

His breath is still uneven, lingering in the space between you, but he presses soft kisses along your shoulder as if grounding himself in your presence. Each press of his lips is a silent whisper, a quiet confession.

You reach for his right hand, tracing the calloused ridges of his fingers before gently opening his palm. Lifting it toward the window, you slide your hand beneath his, pressing your fingers together—lining them up, feeling the contrast, the fit. His fingers move first, locking with yours, holding tight. Then, without hesitation, he pulls your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand with a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

A beat of silence.

“I…” His voice is quiet, as if the words have been sitting on his tongue for too long. “I love you.”

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t feel the same, but because the weight of his words lingers, filling the space between you like something sacred.

He exhales, then presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you,” he repeats, more certain this time.

You smile faintly, tilting your head against him. “I know.”

A short laugh escapes him, but then he grows serious again. His grip on your hand tightens, his lips hovering close to your ear.

“No… I love you a little more than you realize.”

The words settle deep in your chest, warmer than the water surrounding you. And in his hold, in the quiet of this moment, you believe him.

You don’t speak, but the way you squeeze his hand, the way your fingers stay laced between his, tells him everything.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint dripping of water from the edges of the tub, and the slow rise and fall of your breaths. Caleb lets out a deep sigh, his chin resting against your damp hair, his arms wrapped around you as if afraid to let go.

Outside the window, the world feels distant—lightening flickering, the candle casting a soft glow across the bathroom. But here, in this small, water-kissed space, nothing else matters.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, memorizing every dip and ridge of your skin. You tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing his jaw before whispering, “I know… and I love you, too.”

Caleb doesn’t speak, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breath stutters for just a moment, as if those words unraveled something deep within him.

Neither of you move. There’s no need to.

Because here, at this moment, tangled in warmth, wrapped in whispered confessions and lingering touches—this is everything.

And neither of you would change a thing.

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ the forbidden fruit's temptation

Caleb usually rents private gym space to unleash his evol during workouts; this time, he invites you along. The air feels charged, every glance and movement igniting a tension you can’t ignore. Caleb becomes an unknowing temptation, drawing you in with effortless allure. But as the intensity builds, the tables subtly turn—your desire transforms into a primal need. He remains oblivious, yet you’ve become the predator, ready to claim what you can no longer resist.

lads caleb x reader

warnings : dry humping, blow jobs, teasing, semi-public sex, doggy style, mc is a freak

6.8k words

rated : e

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62513281

A/N: I’ve realized I’m not entirely happy with what I’ve written here. After uploading it and giving it another read, I’ve found that this one isn’t my favorite. I lean more toward dominant Caleb, personally. I think it’s also because I wrote this in portions during breaks at work, so my ideas were a bit scattered each time I came back to it, and it doesn’t feel as cohesive as I’d like.

That said, I hope you all still enjoy it! Caleb is such a frustrating mix of hot, nerdy, and stupid—I can’t help but hate love him

You’re playfully swaying Caleb side to side, arms wrapped snugly around his waist, your chest pressed against his back as he fumbles with the passkey to the private gym space he rented. “How long do you usually rent these for?” you mumble, your voice muffled against the warmth of his shirt, your face nestled in the curve of his back.

“About an hour or two,” he replies, his tone nonchalant. “But since you’re here… just an hour.” The door clicks open, and he steps inside, guiding you along.

The room feels vast and almost empty. Padded floors stretch across the space, with just a bench press, a pull-up bar station, and plenty of open room. You glance around, tilting your head. “Not exactly a variety of options here,” you quip, your fingers brushing his arm as you step forward.

“When you can manipulate gravity,” Caleb says, setting his bag down with a soft thud against the wall, “you don’t need much.” He rolls his shoulders back, stretching his arms wide. His dog tag chain swings with every fluid movement, catching the light as he speaks.

Your gaze lingers on him as he moves, his confidence tangible. “How does that even work?”

“I just increase the gravitational pull,” he explains casually, gripping the pull-up bar with one hand and leaning his weight against it. “Makes everything heavier—no need for extra weights.” His lips curl into a smirk, his tone laced with pride.

Suddenly, you feel it—the subtle but unmistakable shift. The air seems heavier, your steps slightly labored as though gravity has doubled. “You started already?” you huff, adjusting your stance as your legs resist the added weight.

Caleb saunters toward you with ease, his grin widening as he watches you wobble. “This? This is nothing. I went easy on you,” he teases, his hand slipping to your arm to steady you. The warmth of his touch contrasts the firm grip, grounding you against the increasing pull. “I brought you here because I needed extra weight for my calisthenics.”

“Did you just call me heavy?” you gasp, eyes widening in mock offense as you clutch your chest dramatically.

“What? No! That’s not— I mean… it’s about gravitational force, not your—” Caleb stammers, his face flushing as his usually smooth composure crumbles. His words tumble over each other, trying to explain.

You watch him flounder, suppressing a laugh until you can’t hold it anymore. Your fingers reach up to cup his face, gently tilting his head so you can look into his flustered eyes. “Relax,” you murmur, shaking his head lightly, a mischievous grin on your lips. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “I’m messing with you.”

His tense shoulders drop, his embarrassment fading as his hands settle on your waist. His lips curl into a grin, his earlier pride returning as he pulls you closer. “You’re too easy to tease,” you add, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

Caleb leans down, his forehead resting gently against yours, his smirk playful but his eyes warm. “Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low, “teasing me might just mean you end up working harder than you planned.”

You playfully push Caleb’s chest, tilting your head as you pout. “So, what exactly do you need help with?”

“Simple,” Caleb says with a grin. “Having you sit on my back during push-ups with normal gravity wouldn’t do much since, well, you’re pretty light…”

You narrow your eyes, but he quickly raises his hands in defense, laughing. “Hey, I wasn’t done! That’s why I’m cranking up the gravitational pull. Makes it more challenging.”

“Couldn’t you just use a weight plate or, you know, ask someone else?” you counter, folding your arms and trying to suppress a grin.

“Nooo, this is the only way,” he replies, dismissing your suggestion with a casual wave. He drops to the floor, settling into position with a cocky smirk. “Sit.”

You sigh but oblige, carefully lowering yourself onto his mid-back. Adjusting your position, you rest your hands firmly on his upper back and raise your legs to avoid weighing him down unevenly. “You’re like my personal horsie,” you tease, laughing.

Suddenly, the air grows heavier again. You feel the weight pressing down on you as Caleb amps up the gravitational pull. He adjusts his stance, his body tensing beneath you as he begins his first push-up.

The motion is slow and deliberate, his arms trembling slightly as he fights the pull. He manages to push himself back up, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

He doesn’t answer, his focus entirely on his rhythm. His breaths are steady but labored, his determination evident in every controlled motion.

You decide to stay silent, trusting Caleb’s expertise. This is his evol—his unique strength, his domain. He understands it better than anyone, and your interference might only distract him.

As his movements continue, his pace begins to pick up, smooth and deliberate. Your eyes wander, tracing the way his back muscles ripple with each push-up, the strain and effort becoming undeniably attractive. The sight alone has you mesmerized, but then you feel yourself slipping slightly.

Instinctively, you adjust your position, shifting your weight to sit more securely on his back. The movement causes an unexpected sensation—a jolt that catches you off guard. You pause, confused, but the lingering warmth in your lower abdomen doesn’t go away. Trying to dismiss it, you subtly sway your hips again to readjust, hoping to find a better balance. But instead, the feeling intensifies, spreading through you in a way that leaves your heart racing.

You glance down at yourself, trying to figure out what’s happening, but Caleb’s sudden grunt makes you snap your head back up. For a moment, you panic, wondering if he’s noticed, but his focus remains entirely on his push-ups. He doesn’t seem to have a clue.

Your mind races as you try to remain still, careful not to make your movements too obvious. Whatever this feeling is, it’s building, and you can’t seem to stop it. Caleb shifts his shoulders slightly, rolling them to readjust his stance, completely unaware of the effect his every move is having on you.

You lean forward, resting your upper body against Caleb’s broad back. Your arms are planked on either side of his shoulder blades, offering you support, while your legs hold firmly to his sides. You wonder fleetingly, What if Caleb catches me? But the thought is quickly drowned by the sensations coursing through you.

Tentatively, you let your hips roll against his lower back, testing the movement. It’s subtle and faint, and you’re careful not to disrupt his rhythm. Yet, the motion aligns perfectly with the pace of his push-ups, each rise and fall pressing against your core in a way that’s almost maddening. It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but it feels dangerously close to something deliberate like he’s unknowingly bouncing you against him.

You let out a soft sigh, quickly muffling it by burying your face in your fists and biting down on your thumbs. The friction is faint but electric, teasing at something deeper, more primal. You rock your hips again, just barely, enough to feel the heat in your body rise.

Caleb’s breathing grows heavier but he doesn’t pause or acknowledge your subtle movements. He’s so focused, his body working against the increased gravity, that he’s oblivious to your growing tension.

Your fists press harder against your lips as you continue to move in time with him, the rhythm pulling you deeper into your world, each roll of your hips stoking a fire you’re desperately trying to contain. “Mmnh..” you sigh, quickly covering your mouth hoping Caleb doesn’t hear you. The feeling coursing through you is impossible to ignore. Caleb wouldn’t mind you indulging in this moment—not that he’s even aware of what you’re doing. Slowly, you sit back up, your breath hitching as you adjust yourself. Sliding your hips slightly back, you arch your spine, positioning yourself perfectly. Each subtle movement of your body against his sends a jolt through you, hitting exactly where you crave it most.

Your head falls back, a bitten lip barely stifling the choked giggle escaping you. It’s a mix of sweetness and sin. You let your hips roll faster, rougher, unable to resist chasing the friction. “Faster…” you murmur breathlessly, though Caleb misinterprets your plea as encouragement for him. His pace quickens, his push-ups becoming more forceful. You lower your head, biting back the noises that threaten to give you away, even as the intensity pushes you closer to unraveling.

Your hand grips his shirt tightly while the other drifts down, grazing over your thigh until it reaches the damp heat between your legs. Pressing against yourself through the fabric of your skort, you’re consumed by the warmth and the humid evidence of your desire. The rhythm of Caleb’s movements against you, paired with your own touch, ignites something feral.

A low, husky giggle escapes you, rich with temptation. Memories flood your mind—Caleb’s hands on you during late nights, his lips marking you during stolen moments in cars, the way he claims you without hesitation. Your free hand moves to your chest, massaging yourself before tracing up to grip your own neck. Your fingers mimic his touch, a tease of past pleasures that makes you ache for more.

“Don’t stop… faster,” you moan, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Caleb obeys, increasing his pace again, oblivious to your true meaning. The sudden, harsher movement catches you off guard, and with no solid grip to steady yourself, you slip. The high gravitational pull amplifies the fall, and you hit the floor with a harsh thud.

The impact jolts Caleb, and he immediately stops. He’s over you in an instant, concern etched into his features. “Hey!” he calls out, one hand cradling your cheek while the other quickly checks for injuries. “Are you okay? Was that too much?”

Your body still hums with need, and you laugh lightly, brushing off his worry. “Sorry, I was having fun up there,” you tease, your voice dripping with lingering lust. “Let me get back up.”

But Caleb presses you back down gently, his hand firm against your chest. “I’d rather you stay here for now,” he says, his tone protective but soft. “With the gravity in this room, that fall could’ve hurt you.”

Before you can argue, he adjusts himself into a plank over you, his body hovering close. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of something more in his gaze. “Let’s not have that happen again,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, grounding you in a moment both tender and electric.

The tension in the room is electric, and every movement of Caleb's body over yours fuels the fire simmering within you. His focus is unwavering, his gaze locked straight ahead as he holds his plank. His dog tag swings gently, brushing against your flushed face, a teasing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His lower abdomen hovers just above yours, so close you can almost feel his heat seeping into you. When he shifts to a forearm plank, his body dips closer, his sides grazing yours. Back and forth, regular planks to forearms, the friction, though subtle, is maddening.

Your breathing grows heavier, and your chest rises and falls as you fight to stay composed. Caleb remains oblivious, his sharp features and disciplined posture implying control. You lick your lips, closing your eyes to let your imagination take over.

You picture the Caleb you know in private—the one whose body feels like it was sculpted for your hands, for your lips, for your pleasure. Every detail of him flashes through your mind: the way his skin glistens when drenched in sweat from relentless nights together, how his veins pulse against your touch when he’s deep inside you. You imagine his hands gripping your thighs or binding your wrists, keeping you close as he claims every inch of you.

“Gah… fuck,” you groan softly, the memory and the sensations overwhelming you.

Caleb suddenly pulls back, his face mere inches from yours, his nose almost brushing against yours. “Hey, are you okay? Is the gravity too much?” His voice is rich with concern, his brows furrowed as he studies your face. “You’re flushed.”

You shake your head, desperate to regain control. “Can we do glute bridges?” you blurt out, the words rushed and panicked. You need distance—anything to keep yourself from unraveling completely beneath him.

Caleb blinks, slightly confused. “Glute bridges? That’s not part of—”

“Please!” you interrupt, your voice a little too eager.

He shrugs and rolls off you, lying flat beside you. The space between you offers little relief, but it’s enough for now. Both of you bend your knees, feet flat on the padded floor, arms at your sides with palms facing upward. Slowly, you both raise your hips in unison.

You look at Caleb, at how his hips rise and fall. He’s focused, and disciplined as always, and his movements are precise. But your mind wanders again, conjuring images of you straddling him. You can almost feel the way his hands would grip your hips or wander to your breasts. You picture the way your body would move in perfect sync with his, your back arching, hair falling into your face as he pulls it aside to kiss your neck.

Your fists clench at your sides, and the ache in your core is unbearable. Without thinking, your hand drifts down once more, grazing over your skort. You press against the fabric, the friction a fleeting relief that only deepens your longing. Your imagination spirals, and you imagine Caleb losing his composure, pinning you down, and taking you without hesitation.

Your movements become bolder, your fingers rubbing against the damp fabric as your breaths grow heavier. You bite your lip, muffling the soft moans that threaten to escape. Turning your head toward Caleb, you’re startled by what you see.

His hand is… inside his pants, his movements unmistakable. The rhythm matches your own. Your eyes trail up, locking onto his face. His intense gaze meets yours, and it’s clear—he’s been watching you the entire time.

The air is thick with tension, and neither of you utters a word, your heavy breathing and the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re the first to act, letting instinct take over. One hand stays between your legs, teasing and fueling your desire, while the other reaches for Caleb’s hand, guiding it toward you. Without hesitation, you slip his hand inside your skort, pressing it against your soaked center.

A low moan escapes his lips, his eyes darkening as he feels your warmth. “All this… because of me?” he murmurs, voice tinged with awe and lust.

“Shh,” you whisper, your tone commanding yet laced with seduction. You guide his fingers, showing him exactly how to move, how to make you tremble.

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the sounds of your ragged breaths and the wet, rhythmic squelch of Caleb’s fingers exploring you. His other hand remains frozen at his side as if he’s trying to process the shift in power.

Your gaze shifts momentarily, focusing on the far wall as you try to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensations. But when your eyes return to Caleb, his expression shifts—his usual air of dominance is replaced by something raw, something vulnerable. His fiery gaze tells you he’s ready to take charge, to flip this moment back in his favor.

But before he can move, you act. You grab his wrists and pin them down, catching him completely off guard.

His eyes widen, and he exhales sharply. “You’re not supposed to move that fast under this level of gravitational pull,” he says, his voice shaky but tinged with admiration.

You don’t respond. Your hair falls in wild waves over your shoulders as you loom over him, your breath uneven, your pupils dilated. Slowly, you tilt your head up, meeting his eyes with a look that’s both predatory and seductive.

In this moment, you’re no longer the one following his lead. You are ravenous, insatiable, and unyielding. Caleb’s strength, his power, his evol—it’s not enough to hold you back.

He seems to sense the shift completely now. His hands slide up to your waist, his touch firm but reverent. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low, his composure beginning to crack under the weight of your dominance.

Your lips curve into a wicked smile, and you lean closer, your voice a sultry command. “Listen. Obey. Do as I say.”

Without breaking eye contact, you lift your shirt, exposing your bare chest. Your hands trace over your breasts, teasing them, pinching just enough to make yourself gasp. Caleb watches, his mouth slightly parted, his breathing growing heavier.

His eyes flicker between your face and your body, drinking in the sight of you like a man starved. The roles are reversed, and he knows it. His beloved—once pliant, obedient, and at his mercy—has become the one issuing commands, the one drawing him into the depths of temptation.

“Good boy,” you purr, leaning in closer, your lips brushing against his as you hover above him. “Let’s see how well you can follow orders.”

You shift your position, grinding against the firm bulge beneath you, the friction sending waves of heat through your body. A soft laugh escapes your lips, followed by a gasp as you whisper breathily, “God, you’re so hard.” Your rhythm is unrestrained, each motion rough and desperate, an outward display of your insatiable craving.

Leaning forward, your breasts are now inches from Caleb’s face, fully in his view. His eyes, wide and pleading, glisten with unspoken need. He looks at you like he’s teetering on the edge of surrender, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Keep your hands on my waist,” you command, voice low but firm. “Only on my waist. Don’t move them.”

He nods wordlessly, his restraint palpable, his grip tightening against your waist. You feel his fingers press into the fabric of your skort, his nails threatening to pierce through as he struggles to maintain control. His breathing grows heavier, and soft, choked whimpers spill from his lips.

“Mm… ngh,” Caleb groans, his head tipping back slightly, his composure unraveling.

Your movements become more fervent, your body moving with a raw need to release the tension building within you. Each grind against his clothed erection sends jolts of electricity through your core, and soon you’re teetering on the brink.

Your head tilts back as you moan loudly, surrendering to the intense wave of pleasure washing over you. The explosion of sensation leaves you trembling, but you don’t stop. Instead, you grab Caleb’s dog tag, pulling it sharply as you shift your position. Caleb adjusts instinctively, sitting up slightly as you reposition yourself between his legs.

You recline against the floor, your body stretched out flatly, arms draped above your head in a teasing display of submission. Caleb’s hands remain glued to your waist, his knuckles white from the intensity of his grip. His eyes roam hungrily over your exposed upper body, drinking in every inch of you. He’s utterly captivated, his gaze locking onto your every expression as you shamelessly use him to continue your pleasure.

Without warning, one of Caleb’s hands slips from your waist and moves to your chest. His large palm covers your breast, his fingers kneading with a mix of reverence and desperation.

You slap his hand away with a sharp motion, and your gaze snaps to his, fierce and commanding. The silent message in your eyes is clear: not yet.

Caleb freezes, his hand retreating immediately as his jaw tightens. There’s a flash of something feral in his eyes, but he obeys. He leans back slightly, swallowing hard, his chest heaving as he fights against his instincts to reclaim control.

The tension between you is electric. You smirk, satisfied by his submission, and grind against him once more, savoring the way his body reacts beneath yours. “Good boy,” you purr, your voice dripping with lustful authority, “Now climb over me…”

Your hand presses firmly against Caleb's chest, the warmth of his skin radiating into your palm. "You can only hump," you murmur, your voice thick with amusement, daring him to test the boundaries you've just set. "You can't fuck me."

The air between you is filled with a charged silence, his sharp intake of breath breaking it like a snap of static. His lips curl into a subtle, annoyed smirk as his eyes darken, frustration pooling in their depths. “I don’t demand this much,” he mutters, voice laced with a quiet defiance.

“What was that?” you tease, cocking an eyebrow as your nails lightly graze his skin.

“Nothing,” he bites back quickly, his tone clipped, betraying how close he is to unraveling.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Caleb adjusts your legs, draping them around his waist. His grip tightens on your thighs as if grounding himself, and when he starts to move, his hips roll with unrestrained desperation. The friction of fabric against the fabric, the heat of his body pressed into yours—it’s maddening. His face flushes, a shade deeper with each thrust, his control slipping further away.

You pull him closer, your arms snaking beneath his, fingertips digging into his back. “That's it,” you whisper against his ear, your breath warm and coaxing. "Lose yourself a little more."

His head dips and your noses brush before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is wild, uncoordinated, all hunger and no finesse—a kiss born of need rather than thought. Caleb kisses as if he’s been starved, as if the power you hold over him is suffocating, and the only way to breathe is to taste you.

His movements grow erratic, each thrust harder, needier. The friction has him teetering on the edge, and you feel the subtle quake in his body as he tries—and fails—to keep composure.

Abruptly, Caleb breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stares down at you, his pupils blown wide with desire. Without a word, his hands grip your legs and pull them away from his waist, his touch possessive, his intent clear.

Before you can question him, his mouth is on you again, this time lower. Through the fabric still separating you, he buries his face into the apex of your thighs, inhaling deeply like he’s losing himself in you. His nose grazes against you, his tongue darting out to taste what he can, his growl of frustration rumbling against you as the barrier taunts him.

"Let’s make a deal," he says suddenly, voice thick with agitation. His lips hover, brushing against the sensitive spot he can’t quite reach. "I’ll take care of you with nothing but my tongue. You know how good I am at that, how much you love it when I devour you."

He sits back on his knees, his hands now in his pants, stroking himself as his gaze locks on yours, heated and desperate. "Let me make you feel like you’ve ascended the stars,” he murmurs, his voice trembling, both a plea and a promise.

As he continues to nuzzle his face against the delicate fabric of your skort, rubbing his nose in a deliberate, circular motion, you feel a jolt of pure electricity. His nose presses insistently against your clit, teasing the sensitive peak, sending shivers down your spine. He licks at the fabric, teasing, tormenting, honing in on the sweet spot that makes your knees weak.

You try to resist, to push him away, but your body betrays you. Your muscles tremble, your breath hitches, and a moan threatens to escape your lips. You're drowning in a sea of sensations, every nerve ending screaming for release. The fabric, once a comforting barrier, now feels like a cruel tease, a maddeningly thin veil between you and the full, unbridled pleasure you crave.

Just as you feel yourself slipping, losing all control, you find the strength to act. Your leg shoots out, your foot connecting with Caleb's forehead with a surprising force. He stumbles back, a look of bewildered frustration on his face, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Nooo," you say, your voice husky with a mixture of amusement and warning. You get on all fours, the cool floor a welcome contrast to the burning heat within you. The air crackles with unspoken desire, the gravity of the moment thick and heavy. Caleb watches you intently, his eyes glued to your swaying hips as you move towards him, a predator stalking its prey.

You crawl slowly, deliberately, your movements a slow, sensual dance. Each inch you cover seems to heighten the anticipation, the tension building to an unbearable crescendo. Caleb watches, mesmerized, his hand tightening around his pants, a desperate attempt to contain the burgeoning erection straining against the fabric.

"How about I fully remove my top," your voice a seductive whisper, "and use my breasts to massage that erection you can't seem to control?" You pause, letting the suggestion hang heavy in the air. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs, his throat working as he swallows hard. You can almost hear the primal growl deep within him.

"Or perhaps," you continue, a playful glint in your eyes, "I could use my mouth. I rarely indulge you in such a manner, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity."

The words hang heavy in the air, a tantalizing promise of things to come. Caleb groans, a low, guttural. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a raw, primal desire. "Fuck," he breathes, his grip on his pants tightening, his body trembling with the force of his arousal.

You chuckle, a low, throaty sound that echoes through the room. "And before you cave," you tease, your voice dripping with honey, your eyes locked with his. "I'll let you have your way—just for a few precious moments."

As you crawl toward Caleb, the atmosphere is charged with an undeniable tension that seems to thrum between the two of you. Every movement you make is deliberate, and calculated, and it sends a shiver of anticipation through the space. The game is on, and though Caleb might not admit it, he's surrendered to your lead.

You close the distance until he's backed against the bench. With a slow, predatory smile, you see him raise himself onto the seat, his knees parting slightly as if inviting you into his space. His eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, darkened with the weight of his desire. You revel in the moment, knowing you've got him right where you want him—completely at your mercy.

Reaching for the waistband of his shorts, you take your time, your fingers brushing against his skin just enough to send electricity through him. Slowly, you slide them down, exposing the bulge beneath his underwear. Your confidence unwavering as you lean in, letting your lips hover mere inches from the strained fabric.

You begin with the gentlest of touches, your lips pressing teasingly against his erection, the fabric adding a tantalizing layer of separation. Caleb's head tips back as he releases a low, guttural sound, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The power shift in this moment is undeniable—he's completely at your mercy, and you know it.

With a soft giggle, you trace your tongue along the length of him, the heat radiating through the fabric almost scalding against your lips. His dick twitches beneath the thin barrier, a silent testament to the effect you're having on him. Each soft kiss, each feather-light lick, drives him closer to the edge.

Finally, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pull them down, freeing him completely. His dick springs to attention, hard and ready, and you take a moment to admire him. Caleb, always so composed, looks utterly undone, his chest heaving as he meets your gaze with a mix of need and adoration.

He reaches out, his fingers tangling gently in your hair, guiding it away from your face. His voice is soft but commanding as he whispers, "Come up here for a second." Obediently, you rise to your knees, leaning in as he places two soft kisses on your lips. The gesture is tender, and intimate—a ritual between the two of you that speaks volumes.

When you pull away, Caleb’s grip on your hair remains firm but not forceful, a reminder of his presence and desire. You lower yourself again, your lips hovering just above his dick. Starting at the base, you let your tongue glide upward, slow and carefully. The light touch is barely there, more a tease of your breath and warmth than anything else, but it’s enough to make his body jerk in response.

A broken whimper escapes his lips, his voice barely audible as he murmurs, "God…" His restraint is fraying, unraveling with every flick of your tongue and every teasing kiss.

You smile, savoring the way his body reacts to your every move. You avoid the head of his dick, purposefully keeping your touches light and lingering along the underside, just enough to make him shudder beneath you. The control is intoxicating, and you relish every moment of his quiet surrender.

As your lips glide over the sensitive head of Caleb’s dick, you tease him with gentle suction, swirling your tongue in slow, deliberate circles. His sharp intake of breath is a symphony to your ears, and the low, strained sigh that follows makes your pulse quicken.

His grip on your hair tightens, the pressure both commanding and intimate, urging you to keep going. You slide your tongue down the underside, savoring the way his body reacts to every touch. Without hesitation, you take him deeper into your mouth, letting his length sink into the wet heat of your tongue and lips.

"Ahh, fuck," Caleb whimpers, his voice shaky and raw. His hand presses against the back of your head, not forcefully, but with enough insistence to hold you in place.

You fall into a rhythm, your mouth working diligently as you hollow your cheeks, creating a firm yet supple pressure. Caleb’s quiet groans and labored breaths spur you on, each sound proof of his unraveling. As your hands join in, massaging the base of his dick, you glance up to see his expression. His teeth are buried in his bottom lip, and his head is tilted back, eyes locked on the ceiling.

You attempt to lift your head, seeking a reprieve to catch your breath, but Caleb’s hand prevents you, his fingers weaving tighter into your hair as he mutters, "No… not… not right now…" His voice is low and breathy, carrying an edge of urgency.

Confused, you push past the feeling, letting curiosity gnaw at the edges of your mind. You continue your motions, his restrained responses both intriguing and frustrating. The tension builds as you take him deeper, your throat protesting as your gag reflex kicks in. The need for air becomes undeniable, but Caleb’s hand remains firm, holding you in place.

Desperate, you dig your nails into his thigh, the sharpness of your touch a silent plea for release.

“Hsss…” Caleb hisses, his gaze snapping down to meet yours with a flicker of discontent in his dark eyes.

Finally, he lets you pull away, your lips flushed and slick with saliva, his length glistening with the evidence of your efforts. You wipe at the corner of your mouth, searching his face for answers.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, your voice laced with both concern and confusion.

“Nothing,” Caleb replies, his tone flat, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. The disconnect is jarring, his usual intensity replaced by something distant, as though his mind is somewhere far away.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. You tilt your head, studying him, unsure whether to press him further or let him process whatever storm is brewing within.

As you adopt a mock pout, your voice drips with feigned disappointment. "You don’t like what I’m doing? Then I’ll just fuck myself, then."

Caleb's sigh is low and exasperated, but there's an unmistakable heat beneath it. "No. Not you," he mutters, his tone carrying a weight of possessiveness.

Gripping his length firmly, you brush it against your lips, letting the silky heat of him glide against your skin. "So, what is it, then?" you ask, spitting lightly on him and watching as the moisture glides over his dick. Your eyes flicker with fascination at the sheer size of him, marveling at how your body manages to take him in.

Before you can tease further, Caleb’s hand tightens in your hair, urging your mouth back onto him. The motion is commanding, but his groan as you obey is laced with pleasure. "I forgot… mmnh… about the cameras in here," he says, his voice breaking into a husky laugh.

The thought lingers, an illicit undertone in his words. "To think… someone could be watching you while I’m here… tsk, tsk," he groans, his hips arching forward.

He pushes himself deeper, his dick hitting the back of your throat as you struggle to take him in. You gag, swallowing reflexively, your nails digging into his hips for leverage. Caleb’s breath hitches as you tighten your grip, the pressure sending shivers through him.

Finally, you pull back, gasping for air, your lips flushed and wet. But before you can gather your thoughts, Caleb grabs you roughly by the neck, pulling you close. His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, his hands cupping your face tightly as though he never wants to let go.

"I can have my way now… right?" he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

You nod, breathless and pliant, surrendering to the intensity of his gaze.

In one swift motion, Caleb pushes you to the floor. The impact is softened by your hands and knees catching you, but the air between you crackles with raw anticipation. You feel him drop to his knees behind you, his hands already tugging your skorts down with a fierce urgency.

"No one else is allowed to see you feel good," he growls, his voice low and feral, each word vibrating with possessive hunger.

You're taken aback by the stark shift in Caleb's demeanor, but deep down, it doesn't surprise you. If there's one thing about Caleb, it's that he’s possessive. No one is allowed to have you, see you, feel you, touch you, kiss you, or even dream of you—you are his.

Without warning, Caleb thrusts himself into you, and the sharp intensity of it pulls a moan from your lips. He grips your hips, pulling you even closer as if he can’t get deep enough. You instinctively arch your back, your body adjusting to him, but his commanding voice cuts through the haze.

“Keep your head on the ground,” he demands.

His movements are rough and erratic, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. It’s overwhelming—pain and pleasure mingling in a way that has you craving more. The ache from his earlier unintentional teasing only heightens the sensation of finally having him inside you. Caleb leans forward, his body pressing against yours. His lips brush over your shoulder, leaving heated kisses in their wake, and one of his hands finds yours, interlacing your fingers.

“I…” he grunts, his voice strained, “…wanted you to have your… ha… moment, fuck,” he growls, his words cutting off as his hips pick up speed.

The urgency in his movements isn’t just about his desire; it’s as though he’s determined to end the voyeur’s show as quickly as possible.

“Let… them,” you manage to moan, your voice trembling with pleasure. “Let them watch… ahhh.”

Caleb responds with a sharp thrust, his intensity knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Let them see… nnngh… that… you own me,” you groan, saliva slipping from your lips as your climax takes hold.

His laugh is deep and guttural, vibrating through you. “I like that,” he says, his voice low and full of satisfaction.

In a swift motion, Caleb flips you onto your back and pulls out. Without missing a beat, he begins stroking himself, his hand working quickly. You lift your legs and rest them on his shoulders, reaching for him, guiding him. Together, you watch as his release spills over your lower abdomen, painting your skin.

Caleb’s damp hair clings to his forehead, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You don’t wait long before throwing yourself into his arms, your lips crashing against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He cups your face, gently pulling your shirt down to cover you as if to shield what’s his.

But then, he pauses, his gaze shifting to the camera in the corner of the room. “Yeah… I’m gonna ask them for a copy. Have them delete theirs,” he says casually, though there’s a quiet threat laced in his tone.

You try to stand, but your legs wobble beneath you, threatening to give out. Caleb is quick to catch you, steadying you in his strong arms.

The room’s gravitational pull shifts back to normal, the weight of the moment settling over you both.

“So… watching me work out makes you hot?” he asks, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he pulls his pants back up.

“You were practically humping me,” you retort, rubbing your thighs, still trembling from the aftermath. “This is your fault. My legs are numb…”

He laughs, the sound rich and unbothered. “I didn’t even do much work. Probably my evol’s fault,” he teases, scooping you up bridal-style before setting you gently on the bench. “Stay there for me, will you? I think we’ve got about 20 minutes left in this room.”

You settle onto the bench, your legs parted slightly, the evidence of your shared passion glistening on your skin. You trace a finger lightly over your sensitive area, the sensation still making you shiver.

“Hey…” Caleb’s voice calls out, sharp but amused. “Don’t get any more ideas. Not until we’re home, alright?”

The mood between you is tense, your body humming with a desire that refuses to wane. You bite your lip, your mind already plotting for the next round. Next time, you think, you’ll finish on top, taking charge and making him beg. But for now, Caleb still owns that spot, his dominance leaving its mark on every inch of you.

Your hands trail downward, brushing against your chest and grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. The warmth of your touch stirs something deep inside, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes your lips. “Caleb…” you whisper, the sound low and needy, your hips swaying subtly against the bench.

Your body’s not finished. Not yet. It craves more, every fiber of your being yearning to feel him again. You try to suppress it, to mask the raw hunger threatening to consume you, but your efforts are futile. A sigh escapes, and with a playful smile that betrays the urgency in your voice, you murmur, “I think… we should go home now. Work out there.”

Caleb’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes widening with a mixture of shock and intrigue. “More?” he breathes, his voice dipping into that rich, low tone that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

You lean forward slightly, your fingers brushing against your thighs as if coaxing him closer. “You can take control…” you whisper, your voice trembling with want. Your eyes lock with his, daring him to deny you. “I just want you.”

For a moment, Caleb simply stares at you, his chest rising and falling as if he’s trying to steady himself. But the flicker of desire in his eyes betrays him, and you can see the tension building in his body. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a warning. “If we start now, you might not make it home.”

You press your lips against his thumb in a silent challenge, your hips shifting again, your body pleading for his touch. “Then don’t stop,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough.

His composure cracks, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly as he presses his body against yours. The bench beneath you creaks in protest, but neither of you cares. You’re lost in the moment, in the heat, in the unspoken promise of what’s to come.

“Home,” he finally mutters against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. “Now.”

But even as he says it, his hands linger, his lips brushing against yours, teasing, tempting, and leaving no doubt that this is far from over.

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ rotten to the core

Caleb’s jealousy knows no bounds. He becomes fiercely possessive whenever anyone gets too close to you, especially if he sees you interacting with someone else. The moment he perceives a threat, a "punishment" follows, one that’s far from ordinary. His discipline feels more like a mix of control and intimacy, blurring the line between pain and pleasure. As intense as it is, you can’t help but crave more, questioning if it’s truly a punishment when it leaves you yearning for more of him.

lads caleb x reader

warnings: jealousy, teasing, light bondage, couch sex, finger sucking, caleb's evol going out of control, slight choking, possessive sex, rough sex, sex while on the phone

6k words rated : e

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62332453

A/N: I find Caleb's jealousy attractive; not the toxic kind, but the pathetic type that tries to one-up everyone, even over trivial matters. Also the possessive jealousy. That is HOT!!

Take note of Caleb’s outfit in this; it's that nerdy one he wore in his trailer when he’s upset for poking his plumpy butt. The one with the white sleeveless top and his thick, beefy, veiny bicep. And the glasses.

If you don't know what I mean, check it out : https://x.com/kittysylus/status/1879371878793724285/photo/2

CRED divider by @enchanthings-a

The golden hues of the setting sun spill through the windows as you step into your home, finally free after a long day of finishing work reports and your monthly physical. The sight of Caleb sprawled out on the couch immediately warms you. He’s lounging with one arm propped behind his head, a book balanced casually in his hand, the picture of relaxed ease.

“I’m home,” you call out as you flop onto the couch, not caring that you’re practically lying on him.

“Hectic day?” he asks, his voice low, a welcome balm to your weary mind.

“Not really,” you murmur, rolling onto your back and wedging yourself into the narrow space between him and the couch cushions. “I’d still rather be off fighting Wanderers than stuck doing paperwork, though.”

“At least you weren’t in danger,” Caleb replies, turning a page in his book before tucking his arm back behind his head.

You sigh deeply, staring at the ceiling. “I had another appointment with Zayne today. The results are steady, which is good. I just have to keep taking my meds.”

Caleb’s tone shifts slightly when he replies, darker somehow. “Is that so?”

You glance up at him, sensing the tension in his words. He’s staring at the book, but it’s clear his thoughts are miles away.

“Yeah…” you answer cautiously, tilting your head to catch his eye. When he notices your gaze, he snaps the book shut and tosses it to the floor with a thud.

“Does Zayne really need to be your doctor?” Caleb asks abruptly, his voice laced with something unspoken.

You blink, startled. “I mean, he’s the best cardiologist—”

“I know that,” Caleb interrupts, his words sharp but not unkind. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” He reaches out and places a hand over your face, shaking your head gently, as if to dismiss the topic.

You bat his hand away and sit up, turning to face him directly. “Don’t I deserve the best there is?” Your tone carries a faint edge, one you didn’t intend, but it’s there nonetheless—a hint of hurt.

Caleb frowns, his expression clouding with something close to jealousy. “You do,” he admits, but the words come out like a hiss.

“Then Zayne will stay my doctor,” you say firmly, standing and blowing him a playful kiss as you make your way toward the kitchen.

Behind you, Caleb mutters under his breath, then calls after you, “Why him, though? Isn’t there some policy against this?”

You stop in your tracks and turn to him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Caleb gets up and strides toward you, his smirk not quite masking the seriousness in his eyes. “You can’t have some sort of intimate relationship with your doctor—family, romantic, whatever. Maybe I should report him.” He chuckles, but the sound is hollow.

You close the distance between you, placing a hand firmly on his chest. “That’s not funny, Caleb,” you say, pouting as you meet his gaze.

His laughter fades, replaced by a look you can’t quite read. The tension lingers in the air between you, heavy and unspoken, but the warmth of his presence anchors you nonetheless.

“I’m joking. Since when can’t you take a hint?” Caleb ruffles your hair as he walks past you, heading into the kitchen. He’s trying to play it cool, but there’s an edge to his voice, something unresolved. “What should we have for dinner?”

You lean over the counter, your arms folded, watching him closely. The way his shoulders tense, as he opens and closes cabinets, gives him away. It’s painfully obvious that his mind is still on Zayne.

You can’t help but laugh softly to yourself.

Caleb freezes mid-motion, turning to face you with a puzzled expression. “Oh great, you’re probably thinking of a joke he said.”

You snort. “Zayne and jokes, really?”

Silence falls between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. The two of you lock eyes, a silent battle of wills. His expression falters for just a second, enough for you to see that even he knows how ridiculous his comment is. Zayne’s humor is notoriously flat, and everyone knows it. Caleb breaks eye contact first, turning back to rummage through the cabinets, feigning interest in their contents.

You rest your chin on your crossed arms, a smirk playing on your lips as you study him. You know Caleb like the back of your hand—better than anyone. He’s never been one to openly admit jealousy, but his actions scream it louder than words ever could. Caleb has a compulsive need to be the one who makes you smile the widest, laugh the loudest, and feel the most alive.

The thing is, Caleb’s never shown this kind of jealousy toward Zayne before. Back in the day, things were simple; everyone was friendly, and there was no room for these petty emotions. But ever since you became a hunter, with mandatory check-ups and more frequent visits to Zayne’s clinic, Caleb’s demeanor started to shift. Not that he’d ever outright forbid you from doing something—he knows better than to try that—but his subtle, possessive tendencies? Oh, they’re there, and they’re obvious.

You bite your lip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You’re plotting now, deliberately trying to press his buttons.

“You’re so clingy, Caleb,” you drawl, dragging the words out just enough to poke the bear.

“Hm.” His nonchalant response is laced with tension.

“I mean, just last week, you did the same thing.”

That gets him. Caleb slams a box of pasta onto the counter with a thud, his palms splaying out as he leans forward, head tilting back toward the ceiling like he’s begging for patience. He inhales deeply before turning his head, not his body, to look at you. His eyes are sharp, and piercing, and there’s an intensity to them that makes your breath hitch.

“I said I was sorry,” he says, his tone eerily calm, almost robotic.

“Yeah, well, things escalated, and he heard us,” you grumble, leaning back for effect.

Caleb picks up the pasta box again, shaking it as he waves his arms dramatically. “Why does the upstairs neighbor even need to talk to you every time he sees you?” he complains. “What’s his name again, Xander?”

“Xavier,” you correct without missing a beat.

Caleb freezes mid-motion. His shoulders stiffen as he turns his head just slightly, his expression neutral but with just enough of a comedic edge—thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, his jaw set—to make you stifle a laugh.

You catch the faintest twitch in his bicep, a telltale sign that your teasing is working.

You press your hand to your mouth, trying to smother a grin and the laughter bubbling in your throat. You know full well that Caleb remembers Xavier’s name perfectly; he just deliberately got it wrong to downplay how much he pays attention. And now, judging by the look on his face, he regrets giving you an opening to correct him.

“He’s my work partner,” you say with a light chuckle, trying to sound casual. “We were talking about work…” You pause briefly for effect, watching his expression remain frozen. “A work gathering.”

The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken thoughts, but the way Caleb’s jaw tightens just enough lets you know you’ve gotten under his skin. You don’t mind, though—it’s all part of the game.

“And what? Did this Xavier complain?” Caleb sneers, dragging out the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. His exaggerated disdain is so obvious, it’s hard not to laugh.

“No,” you reply with a chuckle. “Worried, maybe. But honestly, how do you even explain that situation?”

Caleb rolls his eyes in mock frustration, the gesture exaggerated but not unexpected.

“And to answer your earlier question,” you continue, pointing a finger at him while puckering your lips for emphasis, “Zayne isn’t breaking any rules.”

Caleb’s gaze drops to the box of pasta in his hands as if seeking answers there. His silence speaks volumes, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head. He’s not even trying to mask his annoyance anymore.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” you tease, leaning casually against the counter. “Zayne and I do have a personal connection, but that was way before he became my doctor. Besides, we lost touch long before any of that. So, technically…” you smirk, “no rules are being broken.”

Caleb tosses the pasta box onto the counter with the dramatics of a jilted soap opera star, the motion so over-the-top it makes you laugh.

His jealousy is nothing new—it’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface. But when it comes to Zayne, it’s glaringly obvious and almost endearing. What makes it funnier is that the jealousy is entirely one-sided.

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he just stares, his gaze unyielding but not threatening, more predatory. The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, but you bite your lip to hide the thrill it gives you.

Finally, Caleb strides toward you with purpose. Your arms instinctively fling open as if welcoming his approach, and his hands grip your waist firmly—almost possessively. It stings, but not unpleasantly. Before you can process it, you hop up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

His nose brushes against yours, the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips as he whispers, “It’s not fair. He gets to listen to your heart, to be so close to your chest.”

You laugh softly, his childish complaint both absurd and hypocritical. Caleb spends more time listening to your heartbeat than Zayne ever could. Every chance he gets, he lays his head on your chest, claiming it’s his right.

“Zayne needs a stethoscope to hear my heart,” you tease, letting your voice drop into a husky, breathy tone. “But you don’t need that.”

In one swift motion, Caleb spins you around and lays you flat against the counter, his hands gripping your hips. His lips trail down your torso, his breath hot against your skin.

“I should be the only one listening to your heart,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I know every inch of your body better than any doctor. Why would you even need them?”

“Doctors can tell a murmur from a regular heartbeat,” you retort with a smirk.

“I’m done talking about cardiology,” Caleb mutters, his grin wicked. “I was talking about other doctors.”

He spreads your legs slightly, resting his head against your stomach, his breath fanning over your skin as he exhales deeply.

“Am I being punished again?” you ask, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Do you want to be?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin.

You chuckle softly, biting your bottom lip. “No.” With a quick push against his head, you slide off the counter before he can pin you further. “I need to get out of these clothes. It’s been a long day,” you say, your tone dripping with sass.

As you move past him, Caleb grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. “Let me help, then.”

“No,” you reply, shaking his hand off with mock defiance.

He sighs, his voice dipping into a playful growl. “Be a good girl.”

“No.”

“Sit.”

Before you can process what’s happening, your knees buckle, and you find yourself on all fours, your hands bracing against the floor for balance. Caleb’s gravity control Evol pins you down just enough to make his point.

“Atta girl,” he teases, his tone light yet commanding. He crouches before you, tilting your chin up with a gentle but firm hand. “Let. Me. Help. You.”

“He’s going to hear us again,” you giggle, finally achieving the reaction you’d been aiming for.

“Then tell him to stop eavesdropping, pipsqueak,” Caleb retorts with a smirk.

Releasing his control, he effortlessly picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. With a playful grin, he throws you onto the couch and towers over you, his overwhelming and intoxicating presence.

“Another word and I’ll have to keep you quiet,” he warns, reaching for his glasses.

You grab his wrists, your eyes wide and pleading. “No, don’t!” you gasp, as if what you’re about to say is of utmost importance. “I really like those glasses,” you pant.

He pauses, his confusion almost comical.

“I think they’re better than Zayne’s,” you add with a sly smile, exhaling deeply.

Caleb’s lips twitch as he suppresses a grin. “You’re so greedy when you want something, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, he slips two fingers into your mouth, his touch teasing and deliberate, a silent dare for you to defy him again.

The wet, suctioning sound of your lips wrapped around Caleb’s fingers is maddeningly erotic, a melody of your surrender and his control. His fingers press harder against your tongue, sending a jolt down your spine. You gag reflexively, but instead of pulling away, your hands shoot up to grip his wrists, holding him in place, determined not to cough them out. His fingers glide in and out in steady, rhythmic waves, teasing and deliberate, while your chest rises and falls with labored breaths. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you keep them locked on his lips.

Caleb’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips before his teeth catch the bottom one in a fierce bite. His eyes, dark with intent, linger on the way your cheeks hollow with every movement of his hand. It’s written all over his face: this is a prelude to what he really wants. He’d rather have your mouth working over his dick than his fingers.

With a low chuckle, he pulls his fingers free, leaving your lower lip glistening with saliva. He holds his hand up, watching the way the wetness glimmers under the dim light. “You really enjoy using yourself as your own lubricant, don’t you?” he says with a teasing laugh, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“It’s natural,” you pant, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Caleb shifts, rising onto his knees as he peels off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the coffee table. His toned torso gleams, and he snaps his fingers at you, motioning for you to sit up straight. You comply without hesitation, adjusting your posture as he towers over you.

With one knee between your legs and the other planted firmly on the couch, he removes his dog tag, dragging the cool chain across your face. “You know the rules,” he says, his grin wicked.

You pout, rolling your eyes. “I gave you that as a gift, and you’re always using it for your twisted games.”

He smirks. “Then get me another one.”

“No way. It’s one of a kind.” You slide your hands up his torso, fingers tracing every dip and ridge of his muscles. “There’s no duplicate. It’s yours and only yours,” you murmur, cupping his face. Finally, you clasp your wrists together in silent surrender, signaling you’re ready.

Caleb places the dog tag between his teeth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt and in one swift motion, it’s off, discarded to the side. You unclasp your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders as he deftly begins wrapping the chain around your wrists.

“You could use your evol this time,” you suggest, your voice sultry and playful.

His hands pause for a moment, his eyes focused on the chain. “Yeah,” he mutters, though his tone is uncertain. “Last time I tried that, I used it on the bed instead of you. Snapped the legs and bottom planks clean off.”

A smile escapes you, breaking the tension. “That was your fault.”

“Fair,” he admits with a mischievous grin, “but with the way you were screaming my name and begging for more, I got… distracted.” He pulls the chain taut around your wrists, his eyes locking with yours. The tightness isn’t just around your wrists—it’s in the air, a tension so thick it makes your heart race.

Before you can say anything, he grabs his shirt that he tossed aside earlier. Caleb moves behind the couch, you tilt your head back to catch a glimpse of him. He’s smiling, a wicked grin that makes your pulse race. He steps closer, and gently pushes your head forward. “Let’s try something new,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. The soft fabric of the shirt wraps around your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

Your heart stutters, a mix of excitement and apprehension swelling inside you. What does he have planned? Did you push him too far this time? The not knowing leaves you vulnerable, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Bound and blindfolded, you realize the gravity of your position. Your hands are useless, your sight is gone, and as the shirt muffles the sounds around you, you feel the loss of another sense creeping in. You’re at his mercy, and the uncertainty is both thrilling and maddening.

You strain your ears, desperate for any clue to his movements. The soft padding of his footsteps echoes faintly, but you can’t discern their direction. Is he in front of you? Behind you? The muffled noise seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. You sit still, biting your lip to stifle a nervous breath.

Then, the sound sharpens—familiar and unmistakable. His shoes hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breath hitches as the faint jingle of his belt buckle follows, the metallic clink chilling you to the core. The slow, deliberate rasp of his zipper being pulled down comes next, and you swallow hard. You hear the rustling of fabric sliding against his skin before the faint sound of his pants hitting the floor.

Your pulse pounds in your ears. Caleb is naked. And you are completely unaware of where he is. From which angle he’ll approach, you have no idea. The suspense builds with every passing second, your senses heightened as your imagination runs wild. Every breath, every rustle of fabric, every shift in the air sends a jolt of anticipation through you.

In an instant, you’re pulled, your body shifting swiftly before you can even process it. You find yourself lying awkwardly on the couch, your legs raised high, teetering off balance. The soft plop of your shoes hitting the floor fills the room, and then his hands are on you—strong, purposeful. His touch slides down your calves, lingering at your thighs before settling firmly. It’s clear now—your legs are on his shoulders.

The faint sound of your belt unbuckling breaks through the haze of anticipation, followed by the slow, deliberate unbuttoning of your pants. You feel the cool air on your skin as he slides them down with excruciating patience, taking your underwear with them. The quiet thud of your discarded clothes hitting the ground feels final, leaving you bare and exposed.

Caleb lowers your legs gently, guiding you upward. His hand rests on your back, firm yet careful, directing you as you take a few hesitant steps. The walk is short, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he presses your back forward, bending your upper body over the armrest of the couch. Your belly rests against the soft fabric as he positions you, spreading your legs apart just enough to make you feel vulnerable, your feet planted firmly on the ground.

His hands are warm as they settle on your lower back, and then you feel it—the slow, teasing slide of him rubbing against you. The head of his dick brushes your clit with deliberate precision, sending sparks of heat shooting through you. A silent moan escapes your lips as he continues the agonizing tease, his movements designed to drive you to the edge of madness.

Caleb leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “As of now,” he whispers, his voice low and dripping with desire, “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who knows how fast your heart is going.” With no warning, he thrusts into you, forcing a gasp from your lips.

“Nngh… Caleb…” you moan, your voice trembling.

His rhythm is relentless from the start, his hips driving into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Each thrust pulls a sound from you, your bound hands trapped beneath your chest as the chain lightly grazes your skin, heightening every sensation.

“Haah… fuck,” Caleb groans, his voice rough with pleasure. “Do you even know… ha… how possessive I can get?”

You’re silent, unable to form words as your face presses into the couch, your teeth biting down on the fabric in an attempt to stifle your cries.

“And to… ahh, fuck,” he chuckles darkly, his voice strained. “To edge me on like that… mmhn… you must like—” His words are cut off by his guttural moan as his body shudders.

Leaning forward, his teeth sink into your shoulder, the sharp sensation blending with the intensity of his thrusts. His hips angle upward now, hitting a spot that sends you spiraling, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

“Mmmh, Caleb…” is all you can manage, your voice raw and pleading as he consumes every part of you.

Caleb shifts his weight, pulling back just long enough to stand upright. With fluidity and strength, he flips you onto your back. The movement leaves you momentarily breathless, your body pliant beneath his control. He raises one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers gripping your calf with a possessive firmness. The other leg, he adjusts carefully, ensuring your foot rests securely on the armrest, but not before gently pushing it outward, spreading you even wider for him.

His breathing is labored now, audible and heavy, and though you can’t see him clearly, you can imagine the sight of his chest. Broad, muscular, and glistening with sweat, rising and falling with each ragged inhale. It’s a sight that would’ve stolen your breath, if it hadn’t already been taken by the moment.

One of his arms snakes around the leg draped over his shoulder, locking it in place with a grip that’s equal parts firm and tender. His other hand anchors itself on your hip, steadying you as he positions himself. And then he begins again.

The first thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, his rhythm rough yet calculated, each movement hitting the spot that leaves you trembling. His hips snap forward with a force that feels primal, yet controlled, a deliberate effort to draw out every sound, every reaction from you. You’re soaked, your arousal slick against him. The lewd sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, every thrust accompanied by the wet squelch of your fluids mixing. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in slightly, his lips hovering close, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper as he murmurs your name. The way he says it feels reverent, like a prayer or a plea, and it makes your chest tighten.

“Yeah…” you breathe, your voice soft and airy, surrendering to the moment.

“Let me be…” he pauses, “…let me be the only one… to make your heart—” His voice falters, replaced by a sensual chuckle, deep and rough. “God, let me be the only one to make your heart race like this.”

“Mhm…” your reply comes out sweet but low, carried on a sigh. “Okay…”

The air between you and Caleb is electric, every touch igniting sparks that threaten to burn you from the inside out. With your leg still firm on the armrest, you use it to push your body to the other side, forcing Caleb to adjust. As your leg drops off his shoulder, he moves instinctively, following your silent invitation to walk around the couch.

Before you can process his next move, he’s sitting in front of you, pulling you up with ease until you’re perched on his lap. His hands are warm and firm, one gripping his dick as he guides himself back inside you, the other trailing up your back in a slow, deliberate motion. His fingers rake through your hair, sending shivers down your spine, before tangling and tugging gently but possessively. The motion tilts your head back, exposing the curve of your neck to him.

His lips hover there, a breath away from your skin, teasing, promising. You can feel the heat of his desire, the way his breathing deepens as he restrains himself from biting down.

“Mine,” he breathes, his voice thick and husky.

“Yours,” you moan in response, your voice trembling, “always yours.”

The words seem to fuel him further. He releases your hair and leans back into the sofa, his strong frame supporting you effortlessly. You stay balanced on your toes, knees bent, riding him with an aching, deliberate rhythm. His hands grip your waist tightly, guiding you, pulling you down harder onto him as your hips sway back and forth.

He curses your name, his voice dripping with raw hunger.

“Just like that…” he groans.

Your knees finally give out, and you collapse forward, your body trembling. Though your blindfold keeps you from seeing him, you can feel his presence—his lips so close to yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with your own. You bite your lip, a soft laugh escaping through a moan. With your bound hands, you fumble to touch his face, brushing against the frames of the glasses he kept on.

Your frustrated laugh makes him grin, and before you know it, he’s shifting you both, rolling you onto your side. Spooning you, Caleb pulls your top leg back, hooking it around his own. His arm snakes beneath you, gripping your neck gently but firmly, while his other hand finds your bound wrists. You feel his fingers slide beneath the chain binding them, his touch deliberate.

“If I take this off…” he murmurs, his hips pressing forward as he thrusts deeper, making you gasp. “You have to promise to keep the blindfold on. Got that?”

“Okay…” you manage to moan.

“That’s a good girl,” he groans, his laugh dark and low. With a swift pull, the chain loosens, and your hands are free. Before you can react, he places the dog tag in your mouth. “Here, bite this,” he commands, his lips brushing your ear as his tongue flicks against the sensitive skin behind it.

His pace picks up again, rough and insistent, each movement sending waves of heat through your body. His hand on your neck tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he’s in control.

His other hand moves to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his grip leaving no doubt about how much he wants you.

Desperate to feel closer, you swing your now-free hand behind you, finding his face and pulling him down toward you.

“C-Caleb…” you choke out, his name a breathless plea.

“That’s it,” he chuckles against your skin, his teeth grazing your shoulder before biting down softly. “Say my name. Let me be the only name you call.”

His words are a command and a prayer, each syllable dripping with possession. He presses into you harder, his teeth grazing your skin again, his groans mingling with your moans.

The tension between you and Caleb is palpable, every motion from him driving you further into a realm where pleasure and desperation intertwine. His grip on your neck tightens, stealing your breath in the most intoxicating way, your vision blurring with unshed tears as your body reacts to his overwhelming dominance.

Your voice, broken and raw, escapes in a gagged gasp. “C-Caleb…” The dog tag tumbles from your lips, clinking faintly as it hits the surface below.

Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach. You barely have a moment to adjust before he pulls your hips upward, your breasts pressing into the couch. His thrusts are erratic, primal, and you claw at the armrest, arching your back deeply to meet him. His hand finds your hair, tugging harshly, while his other grips your waist with a force that leaves bruising promises. His silence, punctuated only by rough breaths and muffled grunts, speaks volumes.

You’ve witnessed this before—when his composure cracks and his evol flares, chaos is inevitable. Around you, the room trembles with his lack of control. Items crash to the floor, shattering against the walls. You gasp, instinctively reaching for the blindfold to tear it off, but Caleb’s hand leaves your hair and slams your wrist to the armrest.

“What did you promise?” he growls, his voice venomous yet dripping with that intoxicating edge of command. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hand firmly.

His pace quickens, his movements losing all semblance of rhythm. You’re caught between gasping for air and choking on moans that feel too loud, too needy. Your head drops forward, but your body remains arched, submitting entirely to the chaos you ignited.

The destruction crescendos until it feels like the entire room collapses in a cacophony of falling objects and Caleb’s unrelenting presence. Then, it stops. Abruptly. Caleb pulls out and steps away, leaving you trembling, breathless, and straining to track his movements through the sound of his footsteps.

“Flip over,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. You comply, lying on your back, your chest heaving.

He spreads your legs, his touch suddenly gentle as his fingers trace your most sensitive places. He slides them inside you, teasing, coaxing moans from your lips. It’s a stark contrast to his earlier ferocity, and it leaves you spinning.

Then you feel it—a cold, slightly heavy object placed on your chest. It vibrates softly, confusing you until you catch the faint ringing sound. A phone.

Your hand instinctively moves to grab it, but before you can pull your blindfold down to see who he’s calling, Caleb snatches the device away.

“Tch. You’re just not listening today, are you?” His voice carries a mix of irritation and amusement. “Invite him to dinner,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Confusion floods you. Who? But then the line connects, and you hear Zayne’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?” Zayne asks, his voice tinged with polite concern.

Your heart skips a beat as Caleb presses the phone to your ear and aligns himself with you once more, thrusting in with devastating precision. Your hand flies to your mouth, desperately trying to stifle the moan threatening to spill out.

“Zayne!” you yelp, your voice trembling. “W-would you like to… haaa… join Caleb and I for…” You trail off, unable to finish as Caleb’s pace intensifies.

There’s a pause on the other end. “I’ve got work to do, unfortunately,” Zayne replies, his tone shifting slightly, as if he’s picking up on something amiss. “Are you alright? You sound… in pain.”

“I’m okay,” you manage, your voice strained. “You sure… about dinner?”

Caleb chuckles softly, low enough that only you can hear, and it makes your cheeks burn.

“I’m sure,” Zayne says, his tone now skeptical. “Is it your heart? Is that what’s hurting?”

“What?” you gasp, your voice cracking.

“Is it your heart that’s hurting?” Zayne repeats, his voice calm but laced with something knowing.

“No! Of course… ngh… not,” you insist, struggling to keep your composure.

“Hm…” Zayne hums, his voice dropping as if the realization has hit. “Take care of yourself. Doctor’s orders.”

“I will. You too… and… haaa… doctors shouldn’t be skipping meals…” you add quickly, finishing in a rush.

Caleb pulls the phone from your ear, grinning like a cat who’s cornered his prey. “Yeah, the busiest man should at least join us for dinner every once in a while,” he says, his tone laced with taunting competitiveness.

“Hang up!” you insist, your voice tinged with panic.

Caleb smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction, but he obliges, ending the call. He pulls off your blindfold, his mischievous gaze locks onto yours, his dominance and jealousy radiating all around you.

You pull Caleb closer, your legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist as his hips snap forward, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your hands push his glasses up, and you kiss him—a gentle initiation that Caleb quickly turns hungry. His lips capture yours, biting softly at your lower lip, his kisses messy and demanding, speaking a language of unspoken need. Your arms wrap around his neck, nails digging into his back as your laughter mingles with soft moans, the sound a harmony of shared desire.

“Let me see,” you sigh, pulling away just enough to speak.

Caleb tilts his body slightly, granting you a glimpse of him sinking into you, his movements hypnotic. The sight drives you to arch your back, pressing your body further into his, making him reach deeper. You gasp, throwing your head back before kissing him again, your lips clinging to his as though he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Mine,” Caleb murmurs between kisses, your name falling from his lips like a vow. The rawness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

His rhythm grows relentless, each thrust drawing you closer to your peak. The pressure of his evol pins you firmly against the couch, intensifying every sensation.

“Caleb…” you whimper, your voice breaking, “I’m gonna come…”

“Hold on,” he growls, his voice strained and desperate, as though battling his limits.

“I… I can’t.”

The confession tears through the haze of pleasure, but it only drives him faster, his movements erratic and unrestrained. Your body tightens around him, and his voice grows hoarse as he whispers your name like a prayer.

The tension snaps, pleasure rushing through you in waves, your cries mingling with Caleb’s as he follows. The room shakes under the force of his evol—objects crashing and scattering as the world seems to respond to his intensity.

Breathless, you both collapse into the quiet aftermath, the weight of gravity settling once more.

“Fuck…” you both exhale in unison, voices harmonizing as you lie tangled together, your heartbeats racing in sync.

Caleb’s glasses slip off his face, landing carelessly beside you as he collapses onto your body, his weight pressing you into the couch. His breath is warm against your skin, uneven but soothing. With a gentle shift, he maneuvers you so that you’re lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest.

You listen to the steady rhythm beneath your ear, his heart racing but calm in its consistency. “Your heart’s going fast,” you murmur, a hint of amusement in your tone.

“That’s because of you,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. He reaches for the dog tag nestled between you both, pulling it free as he tilts his head down to kiss the top of yours. “I want to be the only one whose heart you make beat like this,” he confesses, his words a vow and a plea all at once.

“You’re impossible,” you tease, your fingers idly tracing around his chest, circling his nipple in lazy patterns.

He catches your hand, his eyes falling to the blistered marks along your skin. His expression tightens with guilt as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing each mark tenderly, as though his touch could erase them. “I’ve got to stop using this to bind you,” he whispers, his voice laced with regret.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your breath finally steady. Sitting up, you straddle him, bending down to kiss him softly. His hands rise to cradle your face, his touch gentle, reverent. Your foreheads touch, the dominant air that usually surrounds him dissipating completely.

For a moment, it’s just you and him, hearts beating as one, and the world fades away.

You rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as the quiet settles between you. His hands stay on your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks, as if grounding himself in your presence. “Stay like this,” he whispers, the words almost inaudible but weighted with meaning. You nod, your lips curving into a small smile, and close your eyes. In this moment, there’s no jealousy, no chaos—just the warmth of his embrace and the unspoken promise of always coming back to each other.

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bruising the apple's skin

rated : m category: f/m ship: xia yizhou | caleb/reader 10.5k words

link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/62279896

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he is everything to me <333

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nanamin <3

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Drawing this brings back some good old memories ^ ^ Lots of fun sketching their new hell arc outfits too!

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Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

BLEACH: Thousand-Year Blood War - The Conflict || Episode 7

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Urahara looks after his new kids 🫶

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Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

BLEACH: Thousand-Year Blood War - The Conflict || Episode 7

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Nelliel & Ulquiorra from Rebirth of Souls

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Literally this will be my reaction if I see Ichigo

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