CALEB fingers you in family dinner.

Family dinners were supposed to be wholesome. Safe. A chance to see grandma without him acting like the absolute menace he was.

Except he was. Of course he was.

He was seated right beside you, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter as he told one of his dumb DAA stories to grandma—about getting caught in the rain, about Gideon losing his footing during a drill—and all the while his free hand was under the tablecloth, two thick calloused fingers knuckle-deep inside your dripping cunt.

You’re sitting there, spine ramrod straight, lips pressed into a trembling smile as you stab at your food with your fork, praying no one notices the way your thighs are clamped tight around Caleb’s wrist.

“—oh yeah, and then Gideon totally slipped on his ass!” Caleb chuckles, his voice bright, goofy. He twists his fingers inside you at the same time, scissoring them open, curling them until your walls spasm around him. You jolt, nearly choke on air, and his eyes flick to you for just a second, smirk tugging at his lips before he looks back at grandma like nothing’s wrong.

You bite down on your lip so hard it almost bleeds, trying not to gasp, not to moan. Your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Sweetheart,” Grandma says sweetly, squinting at you, “you alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I—mmph— y-yeah! J-just the… food is hot,” you stammer, thighs shaking as Caleb crooks his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

Caleb’s hand flexes against your thigh as he keeps fingering you ruthlessly under the table, his voice steady, innocent. “Aw, pipsqueak’s always sensitive, don’t mind her. Hey, gran, pass the potatoes, yeah?”

He’s evil. Evil.

And when you finally feel the coil snap, when your pussy clenches down on his fingers so tight you nearly see stars, Caleb just pats your thigh comfortingly like he’s doing you a favor, still chatting away with grandma about the weather.

A/N : next time it's on her grave.

SYNOPSIS ★ who are you playing with tonight?

sylus ⋮ he found your custom-made dildo .ᐟ caleb ⋮ he's called you in his office with your bunny-ear vibrator .ᐟ zayne ⋮ he's letting you try out your new seat on his thigh .ᐟ xavier ⋮ competing with your dildo .ᐟ rafayel ⋮ you debut a discreet panty vibrator at his party .ᐟ

CW ★ MDNI! unprotected sex (p in v), voyeurism, dumbification, thigh riding, semi public stunts, tits play, squirting, overstimulation, gaping, dirty talk

SYLUS QIN ☆

Sylus never checks the purchases that you swipe with his black card. You’ve bought the most questionable things before to test that out. Which is why, you’re oblivious as to how he finds out about your recent indulgence.

“I must admit I’m a little hurt,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair, watching you like you're the rarest gem at auction. And oh, what a sight you are, indeed—your pussy swallowing the toy in eager squelches, thighs trembling because of how long you’ve been riding it.

mdni. sukuna fingering you in the car.

“spread,” he says, as the rain hammers the windshield. one tattooed hand stays loose on the wheel, the other’s already shoved under the hem of your little sundress, knuckles brushing the inside of your thigh.

you do it. knees falling open against the leather seat, the fabric bunches at your hips. no panties—his orders from earlier. he’d smirked when you climbed in the car like that, called you a good little slut under his breath, and now he’s collecting.

thick middle finger slides up your slit, slow enough to make you twitch. you’re already soaked; the low rumble of the engine, the way he’d been palming himself through his sweats at the last red light. plus the little “good girl” he muttered when you whimpered after he pinched your nipple through your dress.

“fuckin’ dripping already,” he says, almost amused. the pad of his finger circles your clit once, lazy, then dips lower and pushes inside. one knuckle. two. then the whole thing, thick and unhurried, curling just enough to drag against that spot that makes your breath hitch.

you grab his forearm on instinct. he doesn’t like that.

“hands on the seat, princess. don’t make me pull over and bend you across the hood in this weather.”

you let go fast, fingers digging into the leather instead. he rewards you by adding a second finger, stretching you open with a wet squelch that’s louder than the rain. the heel of his palm grinds against your clit every time he fucks in deep pumps.

“eyes on the road,” you gasp, half-joking.

he snorts. “i can fuck you and drive at the same time.”

third finger nudges at your entrance next. you whine—too much, too full—but he doesn’t ask. he just pushes, slow and mean, until you’re stuffed, walls fluttering around him. the stretch burns so good your head thumps back against the seat.

“fuck, listen to that mess you’re making,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “you gonna cry if i stop?”

he starts curling all three now, hooking hard against your g-spot on every pull-out, then slamming back in. wet, obscene sounds fill the car; you’re dripping down his wrist, coating the ink. the car swerves a tiny bit when you clench—hard—and he curses under his breath.

“shit—do that again and i’m pulling over right now.”

you clench anyway.

he laughs, and picks up the pace. fingers pistoning, palm slapping against your clit, the wet smack-smack-smack mixing with your choked moans. your thighs are shaking, stomach tight, heat coiling so fast you can barely breathe.

“sukuna—fuck—gonna—”

“yeah you are.” he angles his wrist different, thumb finding your clit and rubbing messy circles while the fingers inside keep bullying that spot. “come on my hand. let the whole fucking highway hear how nasty you get for me.”

slick runs down the seat, soaks into the leather. but he doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re whimpering and oversensitive.

only then does he pull out, slow, letting you feel every inch. he brings his hand up, glistening, and pushes the fingers into your mouth.

“clean them.”

you suck without thinking, tasting yourself, salt and him and the faint metallic tang of his rings. he watches, eyes flicking between the road and your face, smirking.

“good girl.”

you’re still panting, thighs trembling, dress ruined, when he changes lanes without looking.

freak.

“get my fingers wet for me.”

nanami’s voice is calm, the same measured tone he uses when he’s explaining a mission report or asking you to pass the salt. except now he’s sitting fully clothed in the armchair, thighs spread, and you’re straddling them—naked, blindfolded, and wrists bound neatly behind your back with one of his silk ties.

your knees dig into the cushion on either side of his leg; the position forces your thighs wide, your cunt already slick and exposed to the cool air

you part your lips without hesitation and he presses two fingers past your lips. you close around them, sucking gently at first, then harder, hollowing your cheeks the way you know he likes when you take his cock down your throat.

you coat his fingers thoroughly, letting saliva pool until it drips down his knuckles when he slowly fucks them in and out of your mouth.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “that’s it. make them nice and wet.”

you whimper when he withdraws them, only to hold your breath when you feel his wet fingertips ghost over your collarbone, circle one already hard nipple, then continue lower, down your stomach—until he finally reaches your cunt.

✶⋆.˚content: !gymrat caleb, !dom caleb, caleb is a tease, flustered reader, caleb and his damn panty kink, gym sex, mirror sex, being choked out by his bicep, biting/marking, praise, pet name pips!⋆.˚✶

✶⋆.˚wc: 2.7k ⋆.˚✶

✶⋆.˚merry christmas heres my present to u xx ⋆.˚✶

Sweat beaded and rolled down Caleb’s neck as he curled the weight in his hand up, bicep flexing hard against the damp cling of his tank. The home gym was quiet except for the soft hum of the overhead light and the low grunt that escapes him as he repeated the motion.

Again.

And again.

You leaned against the doorframe, telling yourself you were just waiting. Waiting for him to finish. Waiting for… something. You weren’t openly admiring the way his chest rose and fell with each controlled breath. Or how his hair had darkened at the temples. Or how he rolled his shoulders between sets, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slick skin.

You told yourself you weren’t staring.

You were absolutely staring.

He hadn’t noticed you yet—or maybe he had and was choosing not to acknowledge. He switched the dumbbell to his left hand, grip tightening as he started another set. Watching him felt vaguely illicit, like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Or maybe it was just illegal for him to look this good working out.

Caleb exhaled sharply on the lift, jaw tightening, bicep bulging before he lowered the weight slowly. Each rep was starting to feel unreasonably personal.

Then his eyes caught yours in the mirror.

Heat rushed straight to your face. You dropped your gaze immediately, pulse skittering as you pretended to suddenly be very interested in the hem of your shorts, worrying the soft fabric between your fingers.

A quiet, imperceptible chuckle left him, and you saw the movement of him continuing his motions. When you dared to look again, he was leaning forward on the bench, forearms braced against his thighs, watching you openly now. Smirking.

“Y’know,” he said casually, as if he weren’t completely wrecking your sanity, “you’re really quiet.”

You shifted your weight, shoulders drawing in. “I’m always quiet.”

That earned you another soft laugh, this one more amused. The apples of your cheeks darkened. He absolutely knew what he was thinking, and worse, he knew you knew.

Caleb picked the weight back up, inhaling sharply as he curled it again, eyes closing briefly as he pushed through the effort. After a few more reps, he set it down with a muted clink and finally turned fully towards you.

“Mm,” he murmured. “Quiet. But I’m willing to bet that brain of yours is running a mile a minute.”

You crossed your arms, defensive and flustered. “I’m just standing here.”

“Yeah,” Caleb grinned, voice dipping lower and warmer. “Standing there. Staring.”

Your mouth opened, closed, then let out a scoff of defense instead of admission. His grin only widened as he stood, suddenly tall and towering over you, even from a distance.

“Relax,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t mind.” Then, softer—smugger— “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes and turned away, the dismissal weak enough that it barely counted. He knew it. He always knew it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late.” He grabbed his towel, slinging it around his neck as he stepped close. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell sweat and soap and him. It all curled low and traitorous in your stomach.

You stared down at a crack in the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.

But one look wouldn’t hurt, right?

Big mistake.

Your eyes met his arm flexing as he adjusted the towel, muscle shifting under skin, and your breath hitched before you could stop it.

Caleb’s smile slowed, eyes darkening just a fraction.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Did I do that?”

You snapped your gaze up, glaring. “I—you—ugh!”

He leaned in, the space between you shrinking. Not touching. Almost touching. His gaze traced down your body, lingered at your mouth, then lifted to meet your eyes again. Then just to be infuriating, he stepped back.

“C’mon, Pips.” His tone had shifted, still playful but threaded with something steadier. Less… inviting. “Since you’re here, you can spot me.”

You blink, stunned. And surprisingly annoyed. “Spot you? You’re still going to work out?”

He laughed, easy and unapologetic. “Well, duh. I’ve got a routine. Gotta finish it.”

He brushes past you, purposefully letting his shoulder graze yours. A spark of electricity shoots between the contact as he heads back to the bench. He lowers it flat with a solid thunk, then moves to the rack, loading plates onto the bar with practiced ease. Metal kissing metal mixes with the beat of your heart.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “How much do you weigh again?”

That earns a brow arch. “Why?”

“Curious.” The quirk of his mouth, already halfway to trouble, softens as soon as it appeared.

You tell him even though you know better.

Caleb hums low in his throat as he adjusts the plates, balancing the bar perfectly before stepping back to admire his work.

“Huh,” he says. “Good to know.”

A warm, tingling sensation greets the space between your thighs.

He looks at you again, head tilted and eyes bright with mischief. “You gonna help,” he adds lightly, “or just keep pretending you’re invisible?”

“I am helping,” you mutter. “Moral support.”

Caleb snorts, gripping the bar. “That so?” His gaze drags over you and lingers a beat too long, “Cause it almost feels like you’re trying to distract me.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

His posture straightens as he lifts the bar into his possession. “You’d be surprised how much your nothing affects me.”

A quick, devastating wink is shot your way before he lowers himself on the bench. He spreads his knees, plants his feet, and looks at you expectantly. The position does something unholy to your brain.

“Spot me,” he repeats, softer now.

Your pulse stutters as you step close, expecting him to lie back and fall into the familiar motion of a bench press. Instead, Caleb slides down onto the floor.

He plants his back against the bench, barbell rolling easily across his hips as he adjusts and positions himself in such a casual way its maddening. Your eyes widen.

This sly little—

His hips thrust upward, controlled and powerful, breath leaving him slow as the weight—your weight—rises. The vein in his neck bulges as he lowers himself, then repeats it.

Your face burns as thoughts scatter, treacherous and vivid, your mind filling in memories you did not ask for. The way he effortlessly rams his cock inside you when you crawl on top.

Caleb exhales sharply as he perseveres through a rep, his jaw working. “Don’t just… hover,” he breathes, breaking the daydream. “Spotting’s hands-on.”

With a dry throat, you force your feet to comply, stepping into position in front of him, and his eyes snap up to meet yours the moment you are close enough.

That lopsided smile returns. “There you are.”

“I— I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s easy, Pips,” he pants, lifting again. “You just… take over when I can’t take anymore.”

You deadpan. “I can’t lift that, genius.”

Caleb’s laugh is low. “That’s right. Don’t worry, you know I can take quite a bit before I get tired.” Another thrust, slower this time. Intentional as his words.

You bottom lip tugs between your teeth unconsciously, gazed fixed on him as he finishes the set with one final controlled motion. He rolls the bar forward, stands, and holds it steady before easing it back onto the rack.

“Hand me that towel again, will you?”

The towel in question lies discarded on the floor, and an idea sparks. Suddenly you realize you don’t have to be losing this game. Two can play, especially if he’s so intent on winning.

You bend, slowly, letting the curve of your ass peak from the beneath of your shorts. You take your time standing, slower still when you extend your hand.

“Here.”

Caleb’s pupils blow wide, swallowing the violet color until they’re nearly black. He snatches the towel so fast you barely have time to react before he uses it to yank you forward.

“Done being innocent?” he asks.

You collide with his solid chest, the rapid, frantic flutter of his heart thudding against your own. Heat bleeds though his skin. Your lashes flutter, your expression carefully sculpted into feigned confusion.

“What do you mean?”

He groans, the sound frustrated as he tips his head back for a half a second. “You’ve been begging for me to fuck you since I caught you staring, and now you wanna tease?

Your mouth quirks. “You’ve been teasing me the whole time.”

That does it.

It never takes much to push Caleb over the edge—especially not when you know exactly how to press—but while he can unravel you all day long, he breaks in a single breath. His hands seize your hips, fingers biting in as his mouth crashes into yours.

The kiss is nothing sweet. Its all hunger and impatience, his tongue shoved past your lips as he claims your mouth like he’s been denied it. You barely have time to melt into before he’s pulling away and spinning you around.

The world blurs for a fragile second as he bends you over the bench in one smooth, practiced motion. Your breath stutters at the way his body crowds in behind you, the solid heat of him a promise pressed into your spine.

Then his hands are on you.

Large palms slide up your thighs before firmly cupping both cheeks of your ass, kneading the flesh with slow, confident motions that leave you in a puddle.

“I wanna watch you now,” he says, voice dark with intent.

One hand leaves you just long enough to tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to the mirror in front of you which catches everything. Your flushed face. His broad frame looming behind you. The way you’re already trembling for him to touch you.

“Like you watched me earlier,” he says. “Wanna see your reflection when you break a sweat.”

Before you can respond, his hands are moving again, tugging your shorts down over your hips, dragging them along your legs before tossing them carelessly across the room.

You duck your head instinctively as cool air brushes the damp patch clearly visible on your panties. Exposed. To him.

“Fuuck…” his voice is hoarse, wrecked. “You ruin these just f’me?”

A soft, helpless whimper escapes you. Its half embarrassment, half need as the ache spreads sharp and demanding through your body. Your thighs press together in a useless attempt to ease it.

“Tsk.”

Caleb’s hands immediately grab your legs, spreading them apart with no effort. “Not-uh,” he chides. “Let me see what I do to you.”

You obey, because of course you do, and his approval hums through him. As a reward, two fingers press firmly against your clothed cunt, dragging slowly up and down, the soaked fabric rubbing just enough against your sensitive clit to make your head spin.

“Pretty girl,” he groans. “Did staring at me working out get you this wet?”

The sound you make is pathetic and breathless, but it’s not an answer.

His free hand hooks under your chin again, lifting your face so you’re forced to meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Answer.”

“Y-Yes,” you mewl.

“See?” His fingers press harder, rubbing your heat over that cruel barrier just to drive you insane. “It’s not hard to be a good girl, is it?”

You shake your head, eyes flicking helplessly to the expression behind you, then to the unmistakable outline of his cock straining against his shorts.

“Do you know why I get so strong, Pips?”

“W-Why…?”

He leans close, lips brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth sink gently into the lobe. “So I can do this.”

His hand abandons its slow torture to grab your hips, hauling you back against him with effortless strength. You yelp as your chest is pushed down against the padded bench, your back arching perfectly for him.

“Mmm,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “For this. So I can put you however I like.”

In the mirror, you squirm as he shoves his shorts and boxers down, freeing his length. His cock slaps against his stomach, a bead of precome aching to be smeared somewhere sinful.

But he doesn’t fuck you.

Oh, not yet.

Instead, he lifts the fabric of your panties just enough, slaps his cock against your ass once—twice—before snapping the fabric back into place, trapping it there. A broken groan tears from his throat as he begins to thrust experimentally.

You suck in a sharp breath, the warmth and weight of him dragging against you, so close to where you want, is maddening. His movements grow surer, harder, as he pulls your panties taut, deliberately outlining his cock while he rubs it along your ass.

The slick smear of precome darkens the fabric further, running it exactly the way he wants.

“God—fuck—” he chokes out. “I’m going to fuck you in this pretty pair. And you’re gonna let me keep ‘em afterwards, aren’t you?”

You press back against him, dripping into the cloth, thighs shaking as your body gives him exactly what he wants. 

“Y-Yeah—!” Your voice breaks into breathless submission. “Yes, Caleb… all yours after you fuck me—mmmgh—fuck me.”

A low, dangerous chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Say please, Pips. Good girls ask nicely.”

“Please,” you beg, voice raw with no shame. “Please, Caleb fuck me… I need you to—haah!”

Before you can finish, a sharp thrust steals the words from your mouth. His cock plunges into your hole, filling you full with no resistance. A guttural moan rips from Caleb’s throat, thumb dragging your soaked panties aside as he pulls back—agonizing slow—before slamming back in with all the force his thick, hard length has to offer.

You arch instantly, lips parting in pornographic moans. His pace is feral and restless as he fucks you into the bench, and you take every deep, pounding stroke like a prize; moaning and crying out, clutching the plush fabric as though it might anchor you in the intensity.

“Yeah, that’s right…” his words boarder on a growl. “Soak me… soak these panties for me, baby girl.”

The slick squelch of your juices fills the air, warm and sticky against your thighs, coating the fabric in your surrender.

“Y’know, I love when you look at me like that, Pip?” hips jerking hard against yours, tip kissing your cervix. “So hungry for me.” Thrust. “So desperate for me to stretch this perfect little cunt.”

You cry out, nodding feverishly as words jumble together into pure need. “Yes—uh—Caleb--! Mmm, C-Cal—oh fuck—!”

A strong arm wraps around your middle, the other winding around your throat with causal ferocity, bicep pressing against your jaw. His muscles gleam with sweat as he pulls back, applying just enough pressure to make your head deliciously spin, vision blurring slightly at the reflections in the mirror.

Instinctively, your teeth clamp down on the slick skin, giving a bite that muffles your wails of pleasure. You leave behind a sharp, imprint that leaves Caleb hissing, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure, before he’s yanking you back and slamming forward again.

Each thrust drives you higher, a familiar euphoric sensation bubbling low and twisting tight in your core. You tremble as he punishes your cunt with long, precise thrusts, every inch shaping you. Your walls clamp around him as you hold onto the overwhelming feeling.

“Oh my god—oh fuck—can I come? Please… please let me come…”

Caleb groans, continuing to push you to the edge. “That’s it… god, you are so good f’me. Yes, you can come.”

With that permission, a hot, shuddering wave washes over, leaving your body shaking, thighs clamping reflexively. You slump forward with a cry of his name, rocking forward as he drives into you harder, prolonging the intensity of your orgasm. The sudden friction of your convulsing cunt around his cock is just enough to push him over the edge.

With a deep, ragged groan, he comes. His load is warm and sticky inside you, cock throbbing with each spurt. He holds you tightly against him, thrusting through every shiver until tears slip from the corners of your eyes and his cock is twitching from overstimulation.

He lets you recover for only a moment, slipping free with a wet, lewd sound. A lingering kiss is pressed to your temple. Then he moves again. His fingers find your swollen cunt, bunching the evidence of your shared pleasure into the sodden panties before yanking them off your body.

“You did so good, Pips”

in lieu of tumblr's new reblog feature. let's continue to support creators on this platform and keep this place as safe as possible. please consider giving feedback here. credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need! *credits to a dear friend of mine for this idea.

hhhh moanssss you get cut on the leg and can’t run right so he just tosses you over his shoulder?? i’ll cum

or getting trapped with your back to his chest and he squeezes your (face) cheeks with one hand, tilts your head back up to make you look at him, and warns you to stay so fucking still. the look in his eyes tells you he means it too ☹️☹️

“but..,” you whine, “i’m itchy..”

“couldn’t care less,” he snaps, bearing teeth down at you.

this is where you notice how fucking huge he is. and how closely you two are pressed together <33

hhhh wiggling his cock out through the zipper of his pants n shimmying out of your panties to fuck him <333 you pitch your hips back and rock yourself up n down his cock, sobbing and clenching at katsuki’s thigh for leverage. asking if he feels as good as you do, you’re so full, s’so thick, you can’t take it 🥺🥺 n’ then you have the nerve whimper in surprise when he fills your mouth with fingers to shut you up :(

n’ of course katsuki can feel it, you’re getting all over this front of his pants, you’re clenching around his dick like your pussy’s fucking in love with it. but you don’t know what he’s thinking because katsuki can actually stay quiet—besides a few grunts and sharp hisses when his hips start fucking you.

Damn 😩.... dragon kiss

if he wants to be a bit mean, he'll place the tongue depressor further up your tongue, until it sits close to the back of your throat. then he gets to hear you gag a little, gets to see your throat swallow and his mind wanders. his thoughts turn indecent as he imagines you gagging around his cock, swallowing around his tip as you drool all over his girth.

"everything looks good," zayne always tells you and you always thank him with a pretty smile. your voice slightly raspy from gagging and zayne has to discreetly readjust himself in his slacks.

You should've known not to tell Sylus you needed something.

All you had done was offhandedly mention you needed a new perfume because yours had run out. Just like that, his ears had perked up and he was pulling you into his lap and opening the Sephora website on his computer.

"Which one do you want?" He murmurs into your ear, making you shiver as your slightly shaking hands type in the name of your perfume. He knows how much it works you up to sit in his lap like this, which is exactly why he'd done it. You try to focus and choose the regular size, but he clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

"You wouldn't want to run out again. Get the biggest one. And a few refills." His lips brush your neck as he speaks, making the task of clicking more things considerably more difficult.

You think it's over when the perfume is in your cart. But he doesn't let you move an inch, grip around your waist tightening just slightly when you sit up.

"S-Sylus I don't need anything else." You try not to think about how warm he is, and how your lower abdomen twists when he looks at you through his lashes.

"Your mascara is almost finished. Get a new one, won't you, sweetie?" A hand slips under your shirt, caressing your bare skin. You swear he smirks when your eyes flutter as you try to keep yourself collected.

It's almost a Herculean task getting your mascara in the cart. You have half a mind to just beg him to bend you over the desk now, feeling his excitement against your ass. But still, he hums in disapproval.

"Didn't you say you wanted to try a new body lotion? Get that fancy one." His words are mumbled against your skin as he sucks marks on your neck, fully grinding his hard on against you now.

You add the lotion and press check out before he can see another word. Still, the total is ridiculous, but Sylus merely chuckles when he sees the number.

"So expensive...I expect a kiss in return." He notes, though his eyes widen when you turn around in his lap, eyes hazy.