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boyfriend!caleb headcanons

welcoming Caleb home after a mission (nsfw)

©choso-ish. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

Movie night isn’t supposed to be anything special. It’s just you, him, a blanket, and a film whose plot you’ve both half-forgotten. One lazy shift has you sliding off the cushion beside him and settling across his thighs instead. 

And at first, he thinks nothing of it; it’s just warmth, softness, and a weight pressing into him that he’s always greedy for. Then you ease down completely—hips nestling over his, the curve of your ass pressing into his thighs—and something thick and hot rolls over him before he has the chance to brace himself for it.

You’re focused on the screen, eyes soft, mouth parted in that distracted way he always finds stupidly pretty. He pivots to the movie, feigning indifference, ignoring the way you wiggle and the growing tent in his sweatpants. 

He swallows hard. Tries to breathe around it. Fails. 

Heat prickles at the back of his neck, spreading fast, and suddenly he’s hyperaware of everything—where his hands are, where yours aren’t, and the blanket that doesn’t sit quite high enough to disguise anything. He shifts an inch to tug it over your legs, hoping you won’t take interest in the real reason he’s fumbling with the fabric. 

Maybe you won’t notice. 

Maybe you’re too into the movie. 

Maybe he still has time to get himself under control. 

“...Choso?” 

Fuck. 

His head turns a fraction, just enough to see the question in your eyes, and that’s all it takes for his fragile hope to crumble. Your gaze flicks downward—brief, but devastating—and he watches the understanding settle behind your eyes, helpless to stop it. 

Your lips curve. 

“Oh,” you murmur, sweet and teasing and unbearably innocent. “So that's your little problem.” 

The way his fingers tighten on your waist tells you he’s about to make it yours, too.

Today, I found out that there is a community on Telegram that has been taking some of my posts and reposting/translating them in Russian. Although they did credit me, they did not contact me or ask for my permission. I am flattered by their interest, but it's important to me that my work is shared in a way that aligns with my intentions and values.

Thankfully, I was able to contact the owner and the translations have been removed. However, I believe some members of the server reported me for commenting on the posts, as my account was put under suspension. I was able to appeal the suspension with Telegram's support.

For those who are interested in translations, I'm proficient in Spanish, German, and Russian---so if you'd like a translated version of something, feel free to reach out and ask! I'd much rather provide a version myself than have it spread without my knowledge.

If anyone sees my writing elsewhere, I kindly ask that you let me know.

Thank you so much for supporting me and my work! More will be released soon. (Feel free to send requests as well!)

But now that you’re dating? 

It’s different. 

He walks in—still half-tired from a morning run, headphones looped around his neck—and sees you in one of his old academy tees, one that you definitely weren’t wearing when he left. It’s soft, old, and hangs off your frame like it belongs there. 

“Whoa, hold on,” He pauses mid-step, blinking once. Then again, like it’ll make a difference. 

You glance up, confused. “What?” 

He gestures vaguely. “That’s my shirt.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “It was clean. Sort of.” 

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you slowly. 

“Okay,” he says, voice steady. “See, that’s not fair.” 

“What isn’t?”

“You. In that.” he motions aimlessly, as if the sight of you short-circuited his vocabulary. 

“It’s just your shirt.” 

“Yeah, and this is exactly how people end up late to work.” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face like it might cool him off. “I was supposed to be productive today.” 

You raise a brow. “And you can’t be… because of a t-shirt?” 

“Because it’s my t-shirt. And you’re walking around in it like that’s not a weapon.” 

You laugh, turning back towards the coffee machine—but he keeps watching you, arms crossed, jaw working like he’s debating something. 

Then, quieter: “You gonna give it back?” 

“Why? You feeling territorial now?” you tease. 

His mouth twitches into a smirk. “Nah. I just wanna know if I should keep it under my pillow for later.” 

You pause. 

“...You mean to wear it again?” 

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

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

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

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

“Missed this.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

boyfriend!caleb who fixes everything without you even needing to ask. drawer sticking? already taken care of. lamp flickering? rewired it. he doesn't tell you—he just watches as you notice it later and coyly grins into his coffee. 

boyfriend!caleb who claims he's not tired after a long mission, only for you to find him half-asleep on the couch, boots still on and one arm curled around a pillow. His mouth is slack, just barely drooling onto the fabric, grumbling something unintelligible as you try to take off his shoes for him. 

boyfriend!caleb who never talks about his nightmares, but you know he has them. sometimes you wake to find him already staring at the ceiling, eyes tired and fingers quietly tracing his necklace. you don't press—you just reach for his hand under the covers, and he squeezes back like that's all he needed to fall back asleep again. 

boyfriend!caleb who always insists on carrying the groceries, your bags, or even your water bottle if you're out walking together. “what kind of man would I be if I let you haul this on your own?” he says, smug—but you catch him sneaking glances at your smile every time. 

boyfriend!caleb who brushes your hair behind your ear while you're half-asleep just to get a better look at your face. when your eyes flutter open, he’s still staring, mischief in his voice as he mutters, “would you look at that—i’m still not dreaming. guess i’m really stuck with you after all, pips.” 

boyfriend!caleb who likes it when you sit on the counter while he cooks. Not because it's helpful, but because he likes having you close, swinging your legs and stealing tastes while he pretends to scold you. “that’s for the plate, not your fingers. …okay, one more.” you’re lucky you're cute. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't say he's jealous, but suddenly gets a lot clingier after someone else makes you laugh. an arm slung around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder, voice low and casual as he asks, “new friend of yours?” as much as you tease, he just hums and pulls you closer. “didn't know I needed to remind you who you belong to.” 

boyfriend!caleb who hates fighting with you—not because he can't argue, but because he refuses to let it wedge between you. even if he's still annoyed, he'll find you in the dark, sliding his arm around your torso, voice firm. “we’re not ending the night like this. i’m mad, you're mad, fine. but i’m not losing sleep over something we can fix. not with you.” 

the main fandoms I write for are:

Jujutsu Kaisen

Bungo Stray Dogs

Genshin Impact 

Attack on Titan

LADS

TKATB