synopsis. you're teaching caleb a lesson about his recklessness — a gag-ful punishment, if you may.
pairing. boyfriend! caleb xia x reader
content/mdni. fem!reader, established relationship!au, mean!reader, sub!caleb (kind of), caleb acts like a needy puppy, finger-fucking (f receiving), gag usage (m receiving), pussy-eating, finger-sucking, a bit of spit, bed-humping, multiple orgasms (f receiving), slight hair pulling (m receiving), BEGGING, praise, teasing, slight dirty talk, pet names (pips, babe, good boy), caleb is whipped for you, caleb is a munch, caleb is punished for injuring himself
word count. 1.9k
a/n. i did not expect to write smut so soon, but the demons cannot be contained any longer! this came to me on the spot yesterday during a very unholy discussion with friends. i haven't written smut in months, so i am a bit rusty. let me know your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
you had been seething for hours. your apartment in skyhaven felt claustrophobic, the low hum of the city no match for the heat simmering under your skin. caleb had been home for an hour, his broad shoulders slumped with fatigue on the edge of your bed, a fresh scar — a pale, glossy line — against his left forearm.
he'd taken a dangerous, unsanctioned mission. again.
“i had to.” he said, his voice a rumble. “they needed someone who could handle it.”
“no, they needed a disposable idiot.” you snarled, your back to him as you stared out at the stars. “and you volunteered.”
a sigh erupted from his weary lips. “pips...”
“don't pips me, caleb xia. you're grounded. no sex for two weeks.”
the silence that followed your decision was heavy. then, a cocky chuckle. low and teasing, baritone voice vibrating through the quiet room.
“oh? that's not a punishment for me. it's you who goes crazy when i don't get you off at least three times a day.”
and he was right. damn him.
he was a munch, a giver of the highest order — living for your pleasure, first and foremost. the punishment you’ve announced on the spot was actually a punishment for you. to not have caleb between your legs, sucking and slurping on your sticky cunt, or to miss out on him pounding your cervix with his mushroomy tip…
damn him.
“i–”
still upholding your ground, your eyes landed on the small, satin box on your dresser. the one with all your and caleb’s sex toys.
the one with the cute, pink silicone gag — the one he'd given you for your birthday, a solution for your bratty and unstoppable mouth.
a dark, delicious plan began to form in your twisted mind, and that could be seen clearly on your pleased face. your features were no longer dawning with anger, but with something much more merciless.
“mhm, is that so?” you purred, turning around from the big window and facing caleb. “let's test that theory.”
•••
he was on his knees before you on the bed, sheathed nicely between your parted thighs. the pink gag was buckled snug between his lips, his breathing a little heavier through his nose. his eyes, those vast, liquid amethyst pools, were wide and alert.
he could feel what was coming, and he was already fidgeting.
“okay, babe.” you cooed, running a hand through his dark hair, slowly tugging at his roots. “here's the deal. you're going to finger me. nice and slow.”
you could already see the gears turning in his head, his own mind trying to picture what you were planning to do to him. with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you spilled out the rest of your punishment.
“you don't get to stop until i cum. you will be sooooo close to my pussy… and you don't get to use your mouth.”
“mhmmm?!?”
“not. a. single. lick.”
a low, whimpering moan escaped around the gag, together with a sheer wave of saliva. his eyes screamed no, already pleading with you for a weaker punishment.
you were a minx.
“oh, yes.” you hissed, guiding his shaky hands up to your bare hips. “it's torture for you, isn't it? to be so close to my cunt, to smell it, and not be able to taste it.”
his fingers, long and dexterous, trembled as you positioned them at your entrance. and fuck. one flimsy touch and they were already slick with your arousal.
why? well, as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, you had been drenching your panties since he walked into the apartment.
“now…” you commanded, your voice a soft, dominant whisper. “make me cum, caleb.”
and, to make sure he was tortured just the way you wanted... you pushed his face down into your bare crotch — a small yet brutal invite to begin.
getting him achingly close to what he wanted to savor the most.
he pressed forward, his face burying itself in the junction of your inner thighs. he inhaled deeply, a hungry, shuddering breath that send shivers down his spine. the scent of you — sweet, musky, and intoxicating — hit his senses like a drug.
his eyes rolled back before he even began to penetrate you.
fuck, you were so cruel for this.
a sleek line of spit already escaped the side of the gag and streamed down his chin. his mouth is watering from the view alone, his tongue pressing against the silicone, dreaming of burying his face, not his fingers, in you.
yet, he complied with your punishment, his fingers sliding inside you seconds after.
and oh, it was agony. delicious, excruciating agony.
your head fell back as they curled, slow and precise, finding that spongy spot with uncanny accuracy. each pump was a testament to his skill, but also a reminder of what he couldn't do.
he couldn’t fuck his tongue into your weeping cunt the way he needed to.
“mhmhhm…”
he groaned, the sound muffled and desperate behind the silicone gag. his hips bucked slightly against the mattress, his body trying to simulate the rhythm of his tongue.
just to feel something.
“oh, yes... right there.” you moaned, your hands tangling in his brown hair. “do you feel how wet you're making me? all for you.” then, with a condescending tone, meant to sting. “and you can't even clean it up.”
that elicited a whimper of protest from caleb.
he nuzzled deeper into your thigh, his breath hot against your skin, spit smushing against you. his nose buried in your folds as much as it could, taking in your essence like a drowning man gasping for air.
he was pathetic.
a respectable, strong, dangerous man reduced to a pussy-drunk, quivering mess at your feet.
it was the ultimate power trip.
his fingers picked up speed, his wrist cramping with the effort to please. he was fucking you with his hand like a madman, but in his mind, he was only thinking about making out with your pussy for hours. making you cry and trash in his hold as he glued his lips to your nether ones.
“mmh-mh.”
his eyes, blown-out pupils rimmed by an almost nonexistent purple, were glassy with a desperate, hungry longing. they were begging for freedom, for a small taste of the heaven between your thighs.
i need it. i need to taste you. please.
“’m close.” you hissed, your body abruptly tensing against his thrusting fingers. “i'm so close, caleb. fuck, your fingers are amazing...”
he made a new sound then, a helpless, frustrated growl that rattled his chest. he pressed his face harder against you, his lips, trapped behind the gag, pushing against your flesh as if he could force his way through sheer will.
his fingers curled faster, harder, perfectly angled. he was using every ounce of his strength to make you cum.
because your orgasm was his only release.
“s-shitttt!” you screamed, your body arching off the bed, thighs clamming against caleb’s head and pushing his face further into your crotch.
the wave crashed over you, blinding and electric. caleb's body went rigid, a long, tortured moan escaping him as he felt you clench and pulse around his fingers. he collapsed forward, his face still buried in you, his shoulders shaking with need.
he wanted to lap up all of your sweet release so badly, he could cry.
you held him there for a long moment, your thighs shaking violently as the aftermath washed over you. your hand dipped lower and stroked his hair, feeling his whole body trembling against you with need.
poor boy.
“shhh... you did so good.” you murmured, your voice hoarse from pleasure. “you made me cum so hard.”
a pitiful sound escaped him, his body still taut with unspent tension. he was a picture of misery, a strong man reduced to a quivering, needy puppy by your cunt.
it was exactly what you wanted.
alas, you reached forward and unbuckled the gag from his hungry lips. it came away wet with spit, a shining stream of it dripping down his chin and temporary linking him to the toy. he gasped loudly, his jaw working as he swallowed, his eyes shutting tight to keep his head from spinning.
your smell was making him dizzy.
“i'm s-sorry.” he started, his voice raw. “i'm so sorry, pips. i was reckless. i was an idiot. so please–”
he opened his eyes, and the look in them was pure, unfiltered devotion. “please, let me taste you. i need it. i need you.”
the begging was so sweet, so genuine, especially with the way he was now snuggling into your skin like an abandoned pup. he was not begging for forgiveness anymore; he was begging for your cunt.
...should you give in though?
a slow, cruel smile played on your lips, feigning ignorance. “and why should i let you, hm? i just came all over your fingers. i'm satisfied.”
a whimper of despair escaped him. he nuzzled his face harder against your inner thigh, his breath hot and uneven. fanning right over your soaked pussy.
“please... i need you. i'm nothing without your taste on my tongue.”
“oh?” you purred, suddenly acting considerate. “and what will you do for me if i grant you this one little thing?”
“anything!” he breathed, his eyes wide and serious. “absolutely anything. i'll be your good boy. no more unofficial, suicidal missions. i promise.”
he was handing you his will, his autonomy, everything, just for the chance to press his face between your legs again.
it was an irresistible offer.
“fine.” you said after a long pause, your voice finally softening. “lick me clean. all of it. and don't you dare stop until i tell you you're done.”
“yes, yes, yes.” a sound of sheer relief and eagerness escaped him. “thank you. thank you. thank y–”
and with that, he dived in.
it wasn't the hungry, ferocious feast you had originally denied him. it was something deeper, more adoring. he lapped at you with a worshipful, almost sacred devotion. his tongue was slow, circling, cleaning every fold and crevice with painstaking care.
he drank you down like you were holy nectar, his eyes closed in bliss, lips only parting to let moans out and your sweet release in.
he was not just tasting you; he was communing. he was re-claiming his place, his purpose. he was your whipped good boy.
and this was his penance and his absolution.
the second orgasm crept up on you unexpectedly fast. it wasn't the sharp, shouting climax from before; it was a deep, rolling wave that spread warmth from your core to your fingertips. it was a softer, more intimate surrender.
“f-fuckk, so nice, babe.”
caleb felt it too. he hummed against your pussy, the vibrations sending one final, pleasurable shiver through you. and he didn't stop, not even when you cried out and your hands clenched in his hair. he kept going, dragging your hips closer, lapping gently, soothing you through the orgasm.
finally, when you were boneless and sensitive, shivering with pleasure, you pulled him by his hair from between your legs. and shit, if that wasn’t a sight to behold: his lower face glossy, his lips swollen, his eyes hazy with pleasure and relief.
beyond dunk on your pussy.
“there.” you whispered, dipping forward and wiping the slick covering his chin with two fingers. only to pop them into his mouth. “all is forgiven...”
“mh-mhmm.” he welcomed you with eagerness, sucking at your slick-coated fingers unprompted.
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cw / tw: insane reader, jealousy, dubious consent (aka seems like non-con but trust me it’s not I PROMISE), service sub caleb being sexually tortured basically, choking, rough sex, nipple play, restraints, femdom as always, riding, short aftercare,
a/n: can you tell I’m so normal about him? …Yeah <3 don’t come for me it’s just a story its not real, don’t ever fuck someone who acts like these two TRUSTTTT, also just slut caleb out it’s what he wants trust me I’ve literally done his prostate exam, 6k words
reblogs are appreciated as always MWAH
You give a big exasperated sigh, shoving your face into your pillow, and it's met only with an endeared chuckle from the other side of the phone.
Practically hearing Caleb’s smile you give another dramatic sigh. “Don’t fucking laugh at me.” You switch the phone to your other ear and roll onto your back, frowning up at your ceiling, followed by a muttered, “...Jerk.”
He chuckles again, and tries to comfort you, putting on a gentle tone, “I know, I know… It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” But you know him too well, you can tell he feels the same way you do. It’s practically seeping out of his voice.
“Oh, really? I can’t tell.” You reply sarcastically, tilting your head at nobody in your room, imagining the look you’d give him right now. Followed by a defeated sigh. It’s not productive or fair to direct this at him, it’s not his fault exactly. “...Are you still busy with work?”
You hear soft rustling through the phone while he’s talking.
“Mm… yeah, I have to fill in, since another Lieutenant quit.” He seemingly pops something into his mouth and chews as he hums and keeps going, “Everyone’s working more, not just me. Don’t worry…”
“...I’m not wo-”
“General Pipsqueak.”
“...”
“...”
“... I’m hanging up.”
Caleb barks with laughter, you can practically see him shake his head in amusement. He can’t even see you, but you still try to suppress your smile. You can’t help the way the corners of your lips twitch in response to the sound of his laughter.
Neither of you hangs up.
Obviously.
A faint sizzle reaches your ears. He’s probably cooking. Cutlery clinks together faintly in the background of the call. “Are you also coming to the reunion?” He asks, his mouth half full, probably sneaking ingredients as he’s cooking. A habit he never outgrew.
You hum softly in response. Did you really want to see all these people from high school? Sure there are people you missed, friends you haven’t spoken to in a while. But also… others. “...I don’t know… Are you going?” You roll onto your side, letting your gaze run over your own room, pausing at a framed picture of you and Caleb together. Pursed lips slowly curling into a small smile as your gaze softens. You did miss your boyfriend. A little.
“Well… I’d go if you’re going, it seems like it would be fun. But you don’t seem so sure… what’s wrong? Someone my lovely general doesn’t want to see?”
You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile, bringing the phone closer to your mouth, “I hope you accidentally get cilantro in your dish.”
A dramatic gasp cracks through the phone. “...why… would you even say that to me…?” You can’t help but laugh softly. The sound of his laughter makes you miss him even more now.
“But yeah, I don’t know. I think I’ll go… if you’re coming with me. I don’t want to go alone.” You murmur your reply, a bit absentminded as you think of all the people you’d see and interact with. It’s quiet on the other line for a little while.
“...Of course, let’s go together. You and me.”
“Okay.” You reply in a rare soft tone. Then you perk up as an idea pops into your head, “And we’ll wear like… lowkey matching outfits.” You stand up and shuffle over to your closet, thinking of your own potential outfits and what sort of clothes Caleb owns that would match yours.
“Mhm. Of course.”
You smile in response to his obedience. He really is the sweetest… always going along with your ideas and wishes. “Heehee… I like you like this the most.”
“Oh, You like me?” Caleb teases softly through the phone, probably with a big dumb grin on his face.
You narrow your eyes at the picture in your room. “...I’m hanging up.”
“No wait-”
When you arrive at the location, a lot of people are already there. You greet a few as you pass them by, looking around a bit, trying to spot that familiar tuft of brown hair you know so well… and haven’t seen in a while. You had declined his offer to bring you to the event, you wanted to surprise him with your outfit. But hearing that familiar laughter nearby makes your heart pound a bit faster. Following the sound, some old classmates part slightly to let you squeeze through and you come to see the back of his head.
Next to someone else.
You’re about to call out to him happily when that ‘someone else’ puts her hand on his arm, giggling.
You freeze.
Your heart sinks.
What the… Your eyebrows furrow slightly, even while you’re trying to school your face into a neutral expression. As Caleb laughs he shifts his stance, subtly letting her hand fall from his arm. While he looks around with a tight smile he finally spots you, and gives a big and genuinely excited smile. He walks towards you immediately. You force a smile, still wrestling with your own emotions inside, and also start walking towards him. But when he opens his arms wide and squeezes you into a bear hug, your worries slowly get pushed back into your subconscious. Melting against him slightly, you wrap your own arms around his waist and squeeze strongly, making him give a small strained groan.
During the hug, this mystery woman slowly stalks away. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. You feel your eye twitch slightly so you blink and quickly look away, opting to just ignore it and instead start snuggling into Caleb’s warm broad chest.
You pull back after a few moments and he gently reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his gaze roam your face. He puts on a sad, nostalgic look, “Wow… you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He suddenly says, with a sad melancholy tone. Rolling your eyes with an amused huff you push him gently. He stumbles back a little and lets his gaze roam over your outfit appreciatively “Hey! Oh wow… look at you… all dolled up. You look amazing!”
Turning up your nose slightly, you declare proudly, “yeah… a doll you can’t afford”, not resisting the smile forming on your lips when his soft chuckle reaches your ears. You grab his hand and squeeze it gently, “We’re matching~” you point to the coordinated colors of your clothes and Caleb follows your finger, nodding when he sees it. “Oh yeah, you said we would lowkey match.”
While you two catch up with your high school buddies, he wraps his arm around your shoulders casually . It’s pretty stuffy in this restaurant they chose, especially since a lot of people accepted the invitation. The staff pushed several tables together for everyone. You lean in further against Caleb, happily chatting with your old friends. You’re glad you came, it’s good to see them all again. And so far the night has been pretty good. You continually push that short gut-wrenching moment down by force.
“Wait, what do you mean?” You sit up, staring at your friend. She nods excitedly.
“Whoa. What! Wait… No way.” You reply, looking between her and her outstretched hand, a big shiny gem shining on her ring finger. As the two of you lean closer to inspect it shortly, you nearly bump heads with Caleb. “Wow…” you absentmindedly knock on the wooden table. Caleb follows. “It’s so pretty! I’m so happy for you!” You squeeze her hand affectionately.
When you let her hand go and she keeps telling you about the proposal and how it happened, a large hand seeks yours out. You cast a short glance at Caleb. Just to make sure he’s alright. He absentmindedly plays with your fingers as you continue to listen and gush with your old friends. You don’t miss the endeared look he shoots your way. He’s so obvious.
The night is a bit colder than expected. Your own thin jacket doesn’t help a lot, so you pull his jacket closer over your body as you stand outside of the restaurant.
You had to get some fresh air, calming your senses as there is too much going on inside. Caleb wanted to come along, but you insisted on going alone. Of course he didn’t let you go without his jacket, shrugging it off immediately. Insisting on it.
“...such a dummy…” you mutter to yourself, pulling the jacket closer with a small tender smile. You sink into a small crouch, right behind the stairs leading out of the restaurant. Maybe this will hide you a bit from the cold winds. You snuggle deeper into his warm jacket with a secret happy grin hidden in your freezing hands.
The door to the restaurant opens. Now instead of a short respite, you get to hear an interesting conversation take place nearby. Faint clicks of a lighter and a big exhale. When you look up from your little hiding spot, you see the faint smoke dissipate into the cold night air. Two people lean against the railing, their backs turned to you. You retract a bit further into yourself, your senses zoning in on the two voices above.
“Isn’t he… like… taken?”
“I have eyes. I can see that.”
“So…”
“I don’t care.”
“Huh?”
“I said I don’t care… How long have they even been together? A few weeks?”
“I don’t know… maybe a month? I mean they always seemed close, though.”
“Exactly. What even is a month.. Like…”
You feel your eye twitch in response. And your hands slowly rise to press over your mouth, subconsciously hiding your breathing. There is no fucking way.
“I mean… you could try, I guess?”
“Yeah, what’s the harm? It’s not like it's illegal to talk to him.”
“True.. Also he was hitting on you! Like why did he try to make you laugh like that?”
“Right?!”
You’ve heard enough.
You stand from your hiding spot slowly, and walk around the staircase. As you start slowly ascending the stairs, not a single word is uttered, not a single glance shot her way. The two women fall silent awkwardly, probably stunned by your sudden appearance. Caught red handed. With a shaky hand and clenched jaw, you open the door into the restaurant, all the chattering spilling out onto the deadly quiet porch. You close it, as softly as you can. As softly as your anger ebbing below the surface allows you to.
Slowly walking back to your seat at the table, Caleb spots you and gives a big smile. “Heyy, pipsqueak.” He, of course, notices the slight change in your demeanor and adjusts his tone accordingly. “What’s wrong?” He starts to stand up but you push him back into his seat. You snake into yours right next to him and sniffle slightly, rubbing your cold hands together. “It’s so cold outside~” And to tease him and to turn the attention away from you, you bring your cold hands dangerously close to his jawline and he squirms away with a surprised laugh and a lighthearted “Hey!”
You narrow your eyes affectionately when he takes your hands in his, subtly saving himself, and trying to warm you up. His larger hands envelop yours with tender love and care.
The jealousy gnaws on your stomach all night, even when you get to his place in Skyhaven. It eats you up from the inside. But you try to push the feeling down. It’s not healthy, you tell yourself.
Even as Caleb sweetly tucks you in with a soft kiss to your temple… the feeling won’t go away. You stay up and toss and turn in your sleep. Huffing slightly in anger you kick the sheets off.
You want to see Caleb.
Caleb awakes from his slumber, but it’s still dark outside. He blinks awake slowly, feeling multiple strange sensations at once. Instinctively he tries to move his hands, but the loud metal clinks on his headboard like a gunshot in the quiet room and pulls his wrists back harshly. He blinks and tries again in his drowsy half-awake state. The metal is unyielding. Furrowing his eyebrows he lets his gaze wander around the room, only softly illuminated by the moonlight above, casting a gentle shine on his room. And you.
…You?
Your weight presses his hips down into his own mattress. Shaking his head gently to wake himself up, he blinks down at you, confused. While he’s blinking at you a few times, you hold his gaze with a quirk of your eyebrow. Then he lets his head fall back into the pillow, muttering sleepily.
“Hey.” You gently slap his cheek. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Opening his eyes slowly, his gaze finds yours once more as the sleep lingering on his brain like a weighted blanket slowly lifts, then realization shines in his deep violet eyes. He jolts and squirms, trying once again to get up. The handcuffs don’t let him get too far. His legs shift and he feels a velvety material wrapped around his ankles, keeping his legs spread embarrassingly wide.
You tilt your head at him, observing the way he’s slowly and finally waking up. “Hi~” you greet him sweetly. Your tone is sickly sweet in fact, never a good sign.
He shakes his head again and lifts it, his sleepy gaze finding yours. “Y/n?” He asks hoarsely, his voice raspy and deep from his sleep. He can tell something is wrong. Of course.
Leaning this way and that way, you start to tug off your pyjama shorts, throwing them in his face carelessly. Perhaps a bit harder than necessary. You situate yourself on his hips again, shifting to really feel his still soft dick press right between your folds, against the flimsy fabric covering you. Sighing softly, you experimentally roll your hips, trying to grind against him slowly. His breath hitches in response, surprised. The metal clinks against the headboard again. He shakes his head gently to try and get your pyjama shorts off. He manages to free one eye only. His chest moves noticeably as his breathing starts to deepen. His eye locked on your body on top of his.
“Y/n… what are you-? …Untie me.”
You chuckle breathlessly at his shaky voice, hips stilling for a short moment “...No.”
After giving your curt answer, you go back to grinding on his obviously growing bulge. The soft cotton of his sweatpants feels so good against your skin, you want to feel it more. Bracing your hands on his stomach, you press yourself down a little harder, making his breath stutter in response. He shakes his head a little more, getting your discarded shorts off him finally. The tantalizing view of you on top comes back into view. He feels himself relax slightly at the sight of you.
He helplessly watches your clothed mound rub against him, an annoying amount of layers between you. Barring you from him. The panties you’re wearing were one of his favorites. He’d spotted them a few times when he volunteered to do your laundry. His eyebrows furrow slightly when he sees your core slowly start to soak the fabric covering it. He swallows deeply, his eyes never leaving the growing damp spot. “...Please.”
You pause your sensual ministrations and start to lean forward. And Caleb actually smiles in relief. Only for you to cover his eyes with two hands, leaning your head on top of them. He whines in protest right against your jawline. Your scent envelops his senses, invading his nostrils as he inhales deeply. Fuck. He loves this perfume on you.
The new position doesn’t make it easy to grind on him, but you keep going, breathing softly. “Hah… did you not hear me? I said no.”
Feeling your soft chest pillow against his, feeling your weight pressing him down into the mattress? It’s almost too much. Especially when he feels the heat of your core so close to his throbbing length. Dying to bury itself inside of the invitingly warm sheath. He can’t even touch you, squeeze your lush body above his, caress your sweet spots. To help you get more pleasure. It’s not right.
He should be of use to you.
His hands twitch and tighten into fists. “...Untie me.” He tries again, swallowing deeply, shrouded in darkness from your hands covering his eyes. He feels your hair tickle his skin here and there, making him shiver slightly.
“If you ask again, I’ll leave you here, leaking and tied up.” Your unamused voice reaches his ears, making him swallow nervously. He is treading a fine line between wanting to obey to make you happy and to fulfill his own deep desire to be of service.
“No… please, no. I’m sorry.” He quickly tries to get your forgiveness. He can’t stand you being mad at him, his heart can’t bear it. He presses a few desperate kisses to your jawline blindly. Sighing against your skin when you start moving again. This is bad. It’s really bad for him. Dangerous, even.
Your softened voice now skims right against his ear, “You… You didn't miss me the way I missed you.”
“...Huh?” He breathes out in confusion, the sensation of you practically humping his fully grown erection making his head spin, unable to concentrate.
“You heard me.”
Lifting your hands from his eyes, he blinks at the loss of contact. Now, instead your hands are tugging on his pants, pulling them down shamelessly. The soft cotton slides down his body and reveals his black briefs, his dick noticeably straining against the last layer of fabric. So desperate to be freed. When you run your finger along the length, it twitches against your fingertip in response.
“I… I did! I did miss you. A lot. …What do you mean?” He asks softly, his chest heaving. So desperately trying to concentrate on what’s got you so upset, but your clever fingers playing with his sensitive body don’t help his helpless case at all.
“Not in the way that I missed you, it seems.” You respond coldly, a twinge of sadness peeking through. “So, this is your punishment.” You reach up past his head to tap the handcuffs keeping his wrist adamantly tied to the headboard. “Only good boys get to touch.”
“I’m good!” He protests weakly. “I’m… I’ve been good.” following shortly after, now seemingly unsure. He takes a deep shaky breath. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“Y/n, please.” He seeks out your gaze, desperate.
“...”
You lift his shirt while sneaking your hand up to his broad chest, circling the areolas of his pecs softly, nails poking into the soft flesh gently here and there. He squirms slightly in response, his breath hitching again. You tug on his right nipple slowly, as it's poking up so invitingly. He arches his back slightly, pushing his chest further into your hands. The way you’re mercilessly playing with his sensitive spots - you’re really upset.
“You didn’t miss me.”
“No! I missed you so much… I wanted to see you so bad.”He starts with a soft and tender tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible. “I was so happy when I saw you.” He is being sincere after all.
You bite your lower lip slightly. The reassurance feels good, soothing the jealous rage storming inside of you. But it’s not enough.
Scooting back, you reach into his briefs and fish out his throbbing length quickly, making his thighs tense in surprise. A surprised noise leaves his lips. He lifts his head and watches, his eyes fixed on your hands. They widen when he sees the same hands pull aside your soaked panties, aligning his member with your entrance. “A-Ah- Y/n?” He stutters out, so excited at the idea of making love, but still confused as to why you’re upset with him.
You observe his face smugly, letting his already leaking head part your folds and run through them, soaking it further with your own essence. His breath hitches again, his chest heaves. Fuck, it’s so hot, so good. He really wants to be inside of you. His eyes remain fixed on his own dick, his heart pounding in his chest. You’re wet already. So wet. Heat pools in his stomach at the feeling, at the erotic sight. At the subtle pride swelling in his chest.
“Hm? You wanna stick it in?” You ask in amusement, lips curling into a teasing smile.
He dares to glance up at your expression, “...Please.”
You don’t move, keeping your gaze on him challengingly.
He racks his worked up brain for a way to appease you. “I… I really did miss you. Please, believe me.” His hands find each other, intertwining as they squeeze slightly.
You waste no time, starting to inch down on his length, hissing in pleasure at the generous girth, stretching your pussy open. Since you’re already soaked, it makes him slide in with surprising ease too. Especially after not doing any foreplay.- Caleb’s favorite way to pass the time.
Caleb’s stuttery breath reaches your ears, his eyes never leaving the place where you intertwine. His eyebrows furrow further, his chest heaving. It really feels incredible. Soft velvety walls wrapped snug around his throbbing length. So warm. So wet. So good. He can’t look away, he doesn’t want to. Even knowing that this erotic sight will be his demise.
You experimentally grind your hips on his, feeling the way his thick member reaches all the places that need to be reached with ease. You grin and throw your head back a little, brushing back your hair. “Haah… I’ve waited so long for this.” Caleb whines helplessly in response to your words. “Feel good?” You ask in amusement, tilting your head curiously at him. Your fingers start dancing up his clenching stomach and up to his chest, tugging at his hardened nipples.
He lets out a high pitched whine, his back arching. Nodding quickly, closing his eyes when he lets his head fall back onto his pillow. Why did you have to look so cute and sexy at the same time, it’s not fair at all. His breathy voice is like music to your ears. “So good. Yes, so good. Fuck, thank you.”
You quirk an eyebrow again. Now he’s even thanking you? How cute.
A loud clank takes your attention away from him and to his wrists, desperately trying to free themselves again. You brace your hands on his chest and hook your feet onto his muscular thighs. The new angle makes you hit your own gspot with ease. Your breath hitches as you start riding him, using him for your own pleasure. Instead of bouncing, you grind. What do you care if he feels good? He’s the one flirting with other women.
Lewd squelching and passionate moans fill his otherwise quiet bedroom in the middle of the night. He just takes it, even if he wishes he could touch you. The desire to hold you, to pleasure you, to help or assist you is too strong. He feels a little useless like this. But… he’s happy to be of use, even like this. Seeing the way you’re using his dick like a real life dildo… he nearly becomes jealous over his own body.
Nothing beats the sight of this. He loves seeing you enjoy yourself. Unashamed in taking what you want from him, whatever you need. He’s happy to provide it, for as long as you’d decide to. Especially if he can remain in this comforting snug hug forever.
The closer you get, the further your pussy constricts around his girth, squeezing him tightly, making his breath stutter desperately. He can’t even reach out to squeeze his own base, to desperately stave off his impending orgasm. All he can do is just take it. Your moans grow a little higher in pitch, become breathier, more arousing. His own testicles tighten up in response to your erotic moans. He has to close his eyes and turn away, the sight of your body undulating on top of him will make him finish too soon. He wants you to feel good for as long as possible.
A hand quickly shoots to his throat, squeezing it slightly, warningly. His eyes shoot open, wide and surprised. His gaze finds yours.
“Don’t fucking look away from me. Am I that-” You bite your own lip. You click your tongue in disappointment and look away, eyebrows furrowed. Droplets of sweat glistening on your temple. A sense of desperation and dread chills him to the bone. Before he can explain, you speak up again.
“...Why did you flirt with her?”
Caleb blinks in confusion. His disadvantaged state becomes even worse when you start bouncing your hips on top of his, taking in his length over and over again. Your gummy walls sucking him in deeper with each thrust, fluttering around him. Fuck. He’s so done for. It feels too good. Lewd slapping of skin fills his ears, the muscles in his body clenching and flexing with each moment he tries to wrench his body under control.
“W-what?” He tries, stuttering out between obscene slapping of skin against skin.
“Huh?” You reply, mockingly. Your hand tightens around his throat.
He gasps. “Ah! Haah… W-who?”
“That woman.” You reply, panting. “At the restaurant.” Teetering on the edge, you furrow your eyebrows and close your eyes tightly. Your hand subconsciously squeezes tighter around his throat, the other coming up to squeeze his pec into your palm. An erotic breathy sigh leaves your plush lips amidst the impromptu interrogation.
His breath hitches as the blood flowing to his brain slowly gets cut off, making him sway. The feeling of your pussy getting even wetter around his length, soaking him in your slick essence doesn’t help at all. You’re dripping so profusely. His vision blurs. Barely being able to spot the white ring forming around the base of his cock, he squeezes his eyes tightly. Blabbering helplessly he goes, “W-wait. Fuck, fuck, wait. Wait! Fuck- I’m… I’m so close, fuck!”
You breathe deeply, trying to remain focused. The pleasure seeps into each limb, making your body tense up slowly, getting ready for the sweet impending release. It feels so good.
But…
Your anger and jealousy don’t let you relax enough.
You groan in frustration as your orgasm slowly moves out of reach. Even if you force your hips to move faster, even if his choked up cries of pleasure reach your ears and make your clit throb. Clenching your jaw you soon start moving slower, pausing as you take a deep shuddery breath.
“Fuck. …Damn it.” You pant, frustrated.
You let go of his throat and dig your nails into his other pec. “Explain… hah… Now.”
He sputters and pants deeply, his entire body shaking as he tries to stop himself from cumming inside of your velvety walls. It’s all he can think about. His mind zeroing in on you and you alone. “W-what… what woman?” He rasps, still confused.
Two fists slam against his chest. Not actually hurting him. But he can tell that you’re very very frustrated and upset, your arms shaking.
“You’re about to piss me the fuck off, Caleb.”
Uh oh. He racks his brain. What woman were you talking about? Who was at the restaurant? He didn’t flirt with anyone-
Oh.
Oh.
“Y/n. Listen to me, please.”
You hold his gaze, clearly hurt.
“I did not flirt with her. I’m not interested in anyone but you. You know that.”
You hold his gaze still, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“You know that.” He repeats, reassuringly.
“Then why… was she all over you before I arrived. What happened?” You sit up and cross your arms defensively.
What a strange situation to be in. His dick deep inside of you, his arms and legs tied and you were riding him stupid mere moments ago. But you can’t relax until you’ve resolved this issue or misunderstanding.
Deep down, you just want to be reassured.
“I did not flirt with her.” He repeats, trying to seek out your gaze again. “I don’t even remember her name. Trust me. She appeared in that little circle we were in and just tried to talk to me. But I didn’t even- I wasn’t-” He stammers, tumbling over his words as he’s so passionate about trying to make you understand.
“Please untie me. …I want to hold you.”
“No.”
“Y/n.”
“Jerk.”
“Y/n.” He puts on his gentle tone, reassuring and warm. “No one… could ever take me away from you.” He, once again, tries to reach out but his hands are still tied. “...No one.” He repeats sincerely.
Another exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Perhaps you’re being too harsh on him. Maybe… The signs seemed to be there. Him shifting so her arm falls, him immediately coming to you, the way he never even casted another glance her way. Maybe her friend and her were misinterpreting his natural charm and friendly nature. You lie down on top of him, your head on his heaving chest. Listening to the racing heartbeat under your ear makes you feel a little bad for him. He’s so cute.
“Your heart is racing.” You state softly.
“Of course it is. I’m with the person I adore.” He replies with a tender chuckle. He just sees the top of your head now on his chest. A cute sight. But he really wants to hold you. He suppresses a whine.
You give a soft sigh. He’s so silly. So cute. You like him so much.
“I’ll kill you if you flirt with other people.”
“I know.”
“Good.” You take a deep breath and sit up. “Now… where were we?” His relieved expression comes into view and you find yourself smiling in response. Reaching down towards his face, you grab his chin and pull it a little closer, your own lips dangerously close to his. His eyes immediately drop to your lips, fixated. You bring up your other hand to cover his eyes and finally press your lips to his, slowly and sensually. Taking the time to feel the connection between the two of you.
He tries to pour all of his love, devotion and care into the slow move of his lips against yours. He sighs in relief into the kiss. He’s just glad he could mend this misunderstanding. He never wants to be a source of hurt for you.
Inevitably the kiss turns more heated. Tensions rise. You stop covering his eyes and grab his face with two hands, keeping him closer. He obliges, of course. The handcuffs clank against the headboard still. You giggle into the kiss and lean down to put your forehead on his jawline. “Stop trying to get out of your restraints.”
He chuckles with you, leaning his head against yours, his eyes sparkling with love as he presses a soft tender kiss to your bare shoulder. “Why? I’m being wrongfully detained.”
You chuckle again. “I’ll detain you for whatever reason I want.” Smiling, you brush your lips along his jawline, feeling his breath hitch again. You don’t resist the urge to nibble there in the slightest. Putting one hand on his chest, you feel his heart start to pick up the pace further. Pounding against your palm.
“I-is that so?” He stammers, his resolve weakening with every second he feels your mouth on his body, your hand on his chest, and still sheathed inside of the warm snug walls of your entrance.
“Mhm.” Is all you say, slowly moving your open mouthed kisses from his jawline down his neck. His dick twitches inside of you, feeling slightly neglected.
“...Want me to keep going?”
“Fuck, yes. Please.”
So you do. His overly enthusiastic consent spurs you on even more. You sit up, pushing his shirt further up to pool at his collarbone. Resting your hands on his chest. Squeezing his pecs. You hook your feet into his muscular thighs once more and begin to move. Alternating between grinding and bouncing, you find a good steady rhythm. The erotic squelching fills the room again, followed by harmonizing moans of pleasure and deep connection. Your breathing deepens as does his.
He feels his own toes curl, desperately trying not to finish right away. He wants to drag this out as long as possible. So he rasps out a “You can grind, it’s okay. I like it.” Making you tilt your head at him with a smile. “Ha… whatever you say, baby.”
He whines helplessly in response. Calling him pet names? While he’s deep inside of you, being used for your pleasure? “Fuck… you’re so mean.”
You laugh breathlessly in response, and decide to be merciful, grinding in a way that feels best to you. Your chest bounces slightly with each shift of your hips, cheeks flushing from the exertion, your breath deepening. Your hands squeeze his pecs harder as you let your head fall, hips grinding faster and faster. Your clit pressing right into the happy trail. Over and over again. Making your pussy start to constrict harder and harder around his girth. His hand squeeze tightly in the handcuffs, fingers digging into his palms.
His hips start to move too, trying to shift up into you. Even if all of his limbs are tied, he wants to make you feel good. And it rewards him with shuddery sighs and moans that slowly become higher in pitch. Heat pools in his stomach, the sight of you, happy and in pleasure fills him with a deeply seated love and adoration. It’s a heady feeling. Fuck. He adores you.
You chuckle breathlessly, starting to feel your mind zeroing in on your own pleasure. The room around you starts to fade in and out of your awareness. “Hah… trying to help?” Caleb nods desperately. “Too bad.”
You reach down and start to circle your own clit, making his heart throb desperately. His hands twitch. But he’s defenseless against the way your pussy starts to flutter around his length immediately. His feet shift in the sheets, as much as they can, and his body starts to squirm. The familiar tingle on his spine makes him freeze up, gasping softly. “Fuck! I’m- I’m close. It’s… fuck, it’s coming!” Followed by a helpless whimper.
You feel his dick twitch helplessly in your walls and you circle your clit at a steady pace, your hips undulating on top of his faster. You squeeze his pec with your other hand tightly, teetering on the edge now.
Then you feel him let out a long helpless groan while he cums. The feeling of the hot spurts of his come within you, the circling of your own clit, and the feeling of his length bumping against your gspot all make you tense up. Creaming around his length as your pussy flutters rhythmically. Loud shuddery sighs and moans leave your trembling lips. Caleb whimpers helplessly in response, his sensitive dick getting cornered in your walls, spurting weakly the last of his release.
You shudder after the waves of pleasure come and go. Afterwards you flop down unceremoniously onto his chest, making him groan in surprise. Only exhausted but happy panting fills the room now. Caleb speaks up first. “I love you.”
You answer with a happy hum, still catching your breath. “Hm… I love you too.” You lift your head and gently wipe at his sweaty face with an affectionate smile, your fingertips softly swiping along his face. His eyes don’t leave yours, deep abiding devotion shining in them. “Are we okay?” He asks carefully, hopefully.
You hum affirmatively and lean in to press a short peck to his plush lips. “Seems like it was just a little misunderstanding.” He sighs in relief.
Then his smile transforms into a mischievous smirk, “Well… maybe I need to create more misunderstandings in the future, if I get to experience this again.”
You pinch his nose and laugh breathlessly. “I’ll kill you dead where you stand.”
This is a PT 2 of sorts from this lovense fic ▪︎ 18÷ mdni, duh!!! ♡~ from this request!
Caleb is mad with need. He says he's cleaning for you, but everything about being inside your home without your presence drives him crazy. He can't stop thinking about whether it not he could feel what you felt. So he tries your vibrator, just this once, just to understand.
☆ 1,761 words ☆
tags: caleb x reader, caleb solo, male masturbation, vibrator use, lovense lush 2, mutual pining, emotional smut, caught in the act, overstimulation, toy play, soft dom, sub!caleb, longing, desperate arousal, domestic intimacy, voyeuristic undertones, affectionate filth, reader walks in, mention of bodily fluids, post-orgasm intimacy, praise kink, slight powerplay, petnames, caleb whimpers, aftercare tease
Caleb lets himself in with the key you gave him, quiet as a shadow slipping through the door.
He means well, really. He just wanted to surprise you… thought maybe he’d tidy up, start dinner, be waiting with a crooked little smile when you got home from work. The place smells like you, and that alone nearly knocks him over. He misses you so much.
That faint hint of laundry soap and your sweet apple lotion, the one you pretend you don’t use every day, but he knows better. The way it clings to your sheets, your shirts, the hoodie he stole back from you and still hasn’t returned.
He sets his bag down by the door and rolls up his sleeves.
Just a little cleaning. Something useful.
But when he walks past the bed, he sees it.
Soft cotton, pale and delicate, crumpled right at the edge of the mattress like it was tugged off in a hurry. Your panties.
He stares. Stops breathing for a second.
Not folded, not tucked, not hidden. Just there.
He should leave them alone. He really, really should. But his hand moves before his shame can stop it. He picks them up like they might burn him, holding them gently between two fingers before bringing them to his face. They smell like you.
God.
His knees go weak. He sits on the edge of the bed, your panties in his lap, and his body remembers:
The way you trembled with the toy inside you.
How wet you were, how flushed.
The desperate little way you’d clung to him, face buried in his shoulder, while the hum of that vibrator poured through your cunt and straight into his cock.
He’s hard. Already. And his stomach twists.
No. No, c’mon, stop—
He forces himself up. Puts the panties down, moves to the kitchen… runs water, tries to wash a dish.
But his hands shake. His jeans are tight. His mind won’t stop replaying it—how open you were, how wrecked. How you moaned when he turned the dial up. How your pussy squeezed that thing like it belonged more than his cock did.
How it vibrated through you—onto him.
He palms himself through his jeans with a low hiss, then rips his hand away like he’s been burned.
Get a grip, man. Jesus.
But he can’t. Not when he knows exactly where you keep it. Not when his body’s still aching like it hasn’t been touched in years.
And maybe that’s how he ends up back in your room.
The drawer slides open with a soft slide.
It’s still there. It sits, neat and pink and innocent as sin, fully charged too.
He stares at it for a long time.
Then he picks it up.
It’s warm in his hand—either from charging or from memory, he can’t tell. Smooth. Familiar now, even if it still feels like contraband. Like a secret he shouldn’t be allowed to touch again.
But he does. Of course he does.
Just to… feel it. Just to remember.
He sits again, back on the bed, thumb brushing over the control button. The vibrator gives a faint buzz, almost shy.
His breath catches. It’s immediate.
It’s not even on properly yet, just a pulse of readiness, and already his cock twitches where it’s straining against his jeans.
Fuck.
He closes his eyes.
He remembers how you sounded. That first gasp when it slid in. The way your thighs trembled. The way you clutched him. Like he was your anchor. Like he could take it for you if he tried hard enough.
He wants to understand.
He wants to feel it.
He slides back on the bed, kicks his jeans down just enough, and hesitates. Eyes flicker down. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking at the tip. Just from this.
Just from you.
He shifts, reclines a little further, presses the toy down—not inside, not really. He doesn’t dare. But under. Between his thighs, snug against the heat of his skin and the curve beneath his balls.
He squeezes his legs together gently.
It purrs.
He jerks—gasps—and nearly drops it. The hum is so much more intense than he expected, and his whole body shudders.
“Oh—fuck—”
He clamps a hand over his mouth, heart hammering.
That’s what you felt?
He presses it again, a little more firmly, thighs squeezing, the soft fabric of his boxers damp and stretched and barely containing the thick pulse of his arousal.
It buzzes against that sensitive patch just behind his cock, and a full-body shiver takes him. He throws his head back against your pillows, thighs trembling.
He moans, high pitched and pathetic.
God, no wonder you cried out like that. No wonder you couldn’t hold still. No wonder you clung to him like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
It hurts. It pleases. It makes him ache. His hand drifts down, wraps around himself—and even that feels like too much.
His hips jerk. The toy shifts. He grits his teeth.
Another soft little whine.
He’s not even moving it.
He’s already so fucking close.
“Shit, shit—”
His other hand fumbles for the control. He tries a different setting—something softer, maybe. But it’s worse. The toy pulses now, in waves, with a slow, devastating rhythm that has his back arching and his breath catching in shallow little pants.
He strokes himself without rhythm, without thought, just trying to keep up with the sensations. It’s dizzying. Addictive. It feels like you—like your breath in his ear, your slick around his cock, your body shuddering on top of him while you begged him not to stop.
His legs are shaking.
He can’t keep quiet.
Whimper after whimper slips through his clenched teeth, and every muscle in his body feels tight with it, like he’s on a wire that could snap.
He presses the toy tighter, rocking slightly against it, chasing friction, and moans.
That sound is what does it.
Because that’s when the door opens.
Soft.
Quiet.
But he doesn't hear it, and even if he did… he can’t stop.
You think you hear him from the hall.
Caleb? Should he be here? Did you imagine him?
You step into the room and freeze.
He doesn’t even see you at first—his eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, lips parted and pink and glistening with spit. His hand is working his cock in short, desperate jerks, and the toy is still humming beneath him, tucked where it shouldn’t be, where it hurts so good he might cry.
His thighs clamp tighter.
His hand stutters once—twice—
Then he looks up, and he sees you.
His moan breaks with your name—shattered, breathless, embarrassed. But he can’t stop. Not now. Not when his orgasm’s already catching, curling low in his spine, stealing his breath.
The second he spills, he gasps your name. He whimpers, loud and high, and comes all over himself.
You’re standing in the doorway, frozen. Your keys are still in one hand, bag half-off your shoulder, eyes wide.
And then you drop both.
The thud of your bag hitting the floor makes him flinch. He scrambles to pull the toy away, to cover himself, to say something—
But you’re already crossing the room.
Your voice is soft. Too soft.
“Fuck, Caleb…”
He looks like he wants to disappear. His face is all flushed, shirt damp, thighs still trembling. The toy lies twitching where it fell—slick and spent and vibrating faintly into the sheets.
“I—I didn’t mean—” he stammers. His voice is wrecked. “I was just— I missed you—”
You kneel by the bed, and you smile, blushing red.
Shit. Your smile might kill him.
“My naughty boy,” you murmur, reaching to brush his hair back from his face. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this…”
His eyes open—wide, overwhelmed. “You’re not mad?”
You shake your head. “Mad?” You glance at the mess of him, then back up. “I’m wet, Caleb. I walked in and found you already fucked out and falling apart in my bed, with my toy pressed to your cock.”
His breath catches. You see it—the way he jolts, like your words are heat poured straight into him.
“I just…” Your voice wavers slightly. “I just wish I’d seen it.”
He moans softly, the little noise almost like an apology, like the ache of your absence just hit him again.
“I—I didn’t mean for you to walk in on me like that,” he says. “It just— I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What it felt like… when you were on me. Shaking. Crying. That little moan you make when it goes too high…”
You shift, thighs clenching. His voice alone is doing something to you.
“Can you tell me?” you ask, quieter now. Your fingers brush his hip, soft. “What it was like?”
He flushes deeper—god, he’s pink all the way to his chest—and nods, slowly.
“It was… it was too much,” he admits, a hand coming up to hide part of his face. “Like—it hurt. But good. It was right on the edge, and it kept pulling me toward it, and I couldn’t stop. And I just kept thinking of you. Of your legs around me. Of how wet you were. I wanted to know what it felt like to… to fall apart like you did.”
You breathe in sharply.
He lowers his hand, searching your face.
“You’re red,” he whispers.
You nod, shy, biting your lip. “You’re not the only one who’s overwhelmed.”
He sits up a little, dazed, as your hand moves gently to his chest, then down—fingertips grazing just above the waistband of his boxers, through the mess on his stomach. He shivers.
“You came so much,” you murmur, half in awe. “Messy.”
He groans, softly, hiding his face again. “Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true,” you tease, letting your fingers trace lower. “So fucking messy, Caleb. I should clean you up…”
His hand catches yours, nervous. “You don’t have to—”
You squeeze gently. “I want to.”
Your voice lowers again, lashes dipping. “And then… maybe you can help me too.”
He blinks.
“With your mouth,” you add, barely above a whisper.
You hear his sharp inhale. He’s trembling again.
You smile, lips brushing his jaw. “I’m already wet just thinking about it. Just from seeing you. You in my bed, with my toy, moaning my name…”
He groans aloud now, head falling to your shoulder.
“God, pips, I’m gonna die,” he mumbles.
“No, baby,” you whisper. “You’re gonna eat me out... You're not allowed to die.”
Now let's talk about Caleb slowly losing his mind, daa time and colonel Caleb.
It was because he missed the old times. That's what he told himself. That was the excuse he was holding for his dear life when he did it for the first time, and he told himself again when he repeated the humble act of giving you the favour of doing your laundry;
The door of your room wasn't completely close to him. Caleb just knew he couldn't enter that place with the same frequency as he did as a child. You two grew taller, unable to share the small bed from the shared bedroom, and somehow, as the hormones creeped in, you two also grew somehow distant;
Caleb felt like a dog trying (and unable to) fit it's old dog house, able just to fit part of his body inside the puppy's antique favorite place but failing to fit the rest;
And he misses it so much. That's why stealing some of your clothing itens was a totally justifiable action;
There's nothing malicious on that. Just holding on some shirts or hoodies to sleep. Pieces you wouldn't mind, that you wouldn't miss in such a short period of time;
Sharing a bed with you became nearly impossible. Not only physically but mentally. Caleb also felt like stepping on thin ice. He couldn't understand exactly why at the time;
So he just dragged it to his room and hide it under the pillow, the blanket or even in the drawer. That's it. He wanted to be a pilot, he needed to keep his grades up high and for that, he needed an well rested night and he only could get a goodnight sleep if he felt relaxed enough to do it. You see? That's a justifiable and noble reason to borrow your clothes;
And it worked like magic. Caleb is having a rough week of tests and kept studying until late hours? He just need to nuzzle the fabric of your hoodie and let the scent on it bring back sweet innocent and happy memories from his childhood. It's her fault. Was the affirmation he said repeatedly on his head before drifting away to his dreams;
You pavloved him just like a puppy. Your scent was relaxing, always accompanied with scalp scratches and a soft steady breathing rhythm. There Caleb could finally rest, assured you are safe with him;
He kept that secret alongside a list of others as long as he kept living there, and even after getting to work at DAA;
When he started with this mania, you always thanked him for doing your laundry, and the small praise was enough for him to keep doing it. That's nothing wrong with that, it was just nostalgia engraved on his bones showing how to deal with stress;
His mind stoped worring about the future, about how he would provide to sustain a house for you and grandma. He was back to worry about simple things again, like what kinda of recipe he could try to impress you out;
Back to the days where praises slipped out your mouth so easy, leaving his body tingling near his nape, a heavenly sensation that's so rare now, since you didn't mind to praise him that much now that you're a grown-up. So it wasn't a problem at all to just want to return to that safe space inside his head again, right?
Until he dreamt about you. A different dream from the usual ones. Then, it turned into a problem;
It was around the proximity of DAA's examinations period. He was so stressed out, he could swear there was two of him inside his head: one craving for your presence and your comfort and another one picking on you over nothing because your mere presence was enough to trigger a series o buttons in his head he didn't want to admit you were able to;
It wasn't impressively erotic nor explicit. He was just trying to solve a question from a DAA's mock test when you suddenly entered his room saying that he needed to take a break from overworking his brain. He tried to ignore it when you got closer to him, but the moment you cupped your hands on his face, his attention turned entirely on you. You leaned towards him, sitting comfortably on top of his lap, inches away from his lips, so damn tempting. "Stealing my clothes but avoiding me? Didn't knew that on top of being a pervert you're such meanie, Caleb."
He opened his eyes feeling dizzy. Was his mind going nuts? Is that what a examination preparation should be like? He was sweating all over the bedsheets, all heavy breathing and oh. Oh no...he got hard?
He couldn't believe himself, no. That was just a normal body reaction in the morning for guys his age, right? Nothing to do with you on top of him, calling him pervert;
He needed a cold shower, he needed to throw his own brain inside the washing machine and let it there until that scenario in that dream was totally vanished;
Caleb got successful with the cold shower. He failed right after spotting a small piece of fabric before throwing his clothes inside the washing machine;
He didn't know exactly how that escalated, but he ended up stealing your panties from that day on. He promised it was only that time, but when he sniffed it for the first time after and entire day of study/self blaming he absolutely loses it to the core;
That's how he passed the DAA'S examinations. It doesn't matter how tired he was during the time his days were filled with only studies. His reward was to get on his bed and bury his nose into your stolen panties. He was at cloud nine and he couldn't deny himself that any longer;
He tried to deny and hide at all costs during all those years, but he was a pathetic loverboy for you, and denying it any longer was absolute torture;
He fucked up his sleeping schedule because that twist obsessed head of his had memorized (almost) every inch of you, and Caleb refused to stop until he started getting dry orgasms;
That when when he muffled his moans and pleas with the fabric, otherwise, when he wrapped your panties around his cock and pumped it, hissing and throwing his back back, he didn't stop until he get all the fabric soaked wet with his cum;
And how it pleased him knowing that at some point of the upcoming week you would use that underwear again. He dared that if any bastard tried touch you, they would know that someone who's way better is disposable for you at home at any time you ask for;
That's when his bad humor (pent-up energy) gave you a break, and he started to be the nice attentive precious Caleb of always. Not the study-driven guy living under the same roof as you;
It was also a way of showing you he also felt ashamed of his actions. Caleb blamed himself a lot, divided between how you saw him and how head over heels he was for you;
So when he left to stay at DAA was a relief as much as it was a punishment;
That dog tag you gave him showed itself useful. He used it as a gag whenever he couldn't help but touch himself, and the underwear he stole from the last visit at home already lost your scent;
He had to bite on the apple charm of the necklace because if he didn't, the soft tinkle of silver could be heard coming from his chambers, the bathroom or any other corner he found if he was needy enough;
He adores that gift of yours. Keeping girls away while feeling owned;
He's a easygoing colleague by general rule. But their colleagues learned to not mess with him after how a prank they pulled on Caleb ended. Caleb never, and I mean, never removed that necklace from his neck. His roommates knew that he was near just because the sound of the two silver charms colliding against each other as he walked by;
So when DAA's periodic medical examination happened, they somehow got their hands on the necklace;
Caleb almost went crazy, he searched everywhere, planes, take off field, headquarters. He was on edge. When he realized that a group of his colleagues were finding the whole situation funny, he snapped, holding one of them by the uniform's collar with a death glare. After Caleb threatened to make this an everyone's problem snitching them to superiors for spoiling itens, his necklace was magically back into place before night time. And they never questioned about Caleb's dog tag ever again;
That's why years later that necklace would be used as his day collar. He already felt like being collared after all, so he just asked to keep using it. That piece of jewelry is sacred to him;
Only after years of yearning and looking you from afar (CCTVs) when you finally get reunited is that Caleb shows off that side for you. He's tired of hiding;
It's when you cupped your hand on his face and he nuzzles it again, like he used to do when both of you were kids that he felt back again inside that (now) inexistent old room. Realizing that it wasn't the bedroom itself bringing him comfort, but you;
At first he'll try to get praises out of your mouth, but if you don't, he'll just bring them out. He's eager to serve and protect you, but the waiting got him to way needy, and that makes him use his tools in order to get what he desired for so long;
He's a provocative service sub. Caleb will challenge you and tease you until you put him into the place he dreamt about during all this time: back to your arms, and praises and comfort;
Fuck his high position as the fourth fleet colonel once he got there. If you wanna step on him do it, but do it lovely, he's your golden summer boy, the remaining part of his brain is so very dedicated to keep you at all costs;
Be roughly gentle with him;
All the memories and dirty thoughts, all the guilty sentences and spring days watching planes flying into the sky. Use handcuffs on his wrists, but when he confesses all his sins, kiss him softly, mark his skin so he won't get able to forget you ever;
Walk him around like a puppy, or outside like a prize. He's such a golden boy, but he's also a show off. Make Skyheaven understand who's orders the deepspace colonel truly obeys;
But at the end of the day, lay down with him on his bed. Let him nuzzle you and finally, after years sleep without any pain. Let Caleb rest assured he's back into that safe place from old days where there's no forever lasting thunderstorms. Because he will do anything for you, he can't be anything other than that. He doesn't want to at all.
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After being stood up three times, MC decides Caleb won’t earn her forgiveness without enduring some playful punishment. What starts as teasing quickly becomes a torturous test of Caleb’s self-control as she takes charge, drawing out every ounce of his restraint.
(Self-Indulgent and heavily inspired by 2-3 of Caleb’s lines in the cafe)
cw/tags: f!MC(reader), slow burn, unresolved sexual tension, dom!mc, sub!caleb, pilot!caleb, established relationship, teasing, punishment kink, edging, light power play, breath, withheld pleasure, delayed gratification, soft dom/sub, emotional tension, begging, dirty talk, gravity evol, fluff and smut, romantic smut, pining, touch, reward/punishment, kisses all over, oral tease, tension relief, switch dynamics, intimacy, NSFW, dominant/submissive, dubcon (mild), restraint, light pain play (scratching), suggestive language, mature themes, power imbalance, sensory teasing
MC is getting very, very annoyed with Caleb. He's canceled spending time with her twice with “emergency business” for the fleet. And even though when things like this happened before, Caleb tried his best to make it up to her, this time she figured she wouldn't be pleased until he received what she deems as a fair punishment. She sits on her couch, arms folded, waiting and waiting. ‘I can't believe he canceled two days in a row and still has the nerve to be late today!!’
She flips through channels before hearing light boots and the sound of dangling keys. Then a soft rhythm of knocks follows.
“It's open.”
She hears the soft click of the door but doesn't get up from the couch. Instead, she turns away and pouts, her head resting on the armrest. The footsteps come closer until Caleb is in front of her face, squatting down to eye level.
“Hi, pipsqueak. Are you mad at me?” His big pretty eyes look like a sad puppy's.
“Guess.” She pokes him in the forehead with her finger, frustrated at how fast she wants to forgive him. “I was excited to see you. Two days ago, yesterday, this morning…” She scowls.
Caleb tries to hide a smirk at how bratty she's acting, knowing this show she puts on is a necessary and very cute step towards quick and easy forgiveness.
“I'm sorry, cutie, you know I hate making you wait. The fleet—”
She pushes a finger to his lips before he can finish. “Shh. It's done anyways, no use explaining it again. But… I still haven't come up with a proper way to punish you.” She sits up properly on the couch and turns off the TV, the motion turning her away from him. But not before seeing his somewhat surprised expression.
He comes to sit next to her on the couch and suddenly her head is being turned to him. “Punish me however you like, I'm all yours, pips” She glares at the use of his gravity evol and shoves him onto his back as soon as he lets go of her face.
“However I want, hm?” She hums.
Caleb lets out a soft “oof” as he lands on his back, laughing under his breath. His arm flops over his forehead like he's fainted. “Ah, Cruel Mistress, striking a defenseless man,” he groans dramatically.
MC narrows her eyes. “You don't look very sorry.”
He peeks at her through his fingers. “Maybe I'm just waiting to see what my punishment is.”
She climbs over him slowly, straddling his hips, and he swallows a bit too obviously. Her hands rest on his chest, steady, firm.
“You made me wait,” she says, low. “You got my hopes up. And you know how I get when I'm disappointed.”
He nods quickly. “You get pouty.”
“And a little mean,” she adds with a smirk, “Don’t you dare forget that.”
“Dangerous combination.” His voice is breathy now, no more teasing. “What are you going to do to me, pipsqueak?”
She leans in close, brushing her nose along his jaw. “You’ll find out. But not all at once. You’ll get it in doses… like I got my disappointment.”
His breath gets a bit heavy. There's no hiding the rises and falls of his chest as he searches for ways of maintaining control of himself. He doesn't touch her, his arms slack at his sides, his right arm hanging off the side of the couch.
MC looks him in the eyes now, her face centimeters from him, and something dubious lights her expression. She holds his face in her two hands, their breath still mingling softly as Caleb searches her face for her next move, holding himself completely still. Her hips press into his abdomen, her arms across his chest, her head tilted as she moves his chin down to look at her. “I know what I will do.”
He swallows again his Adam's apple bobbing. “Yeah? What is it, then?” His voice is a bit husky and low, she can almost hear the restraint.
“Your self-control test is in order, I think.” She whispers into his ear, the action making him shiver beneath her.
“My self-control test?” He says softly, eyes darting across her face for any sign of not meaning what she said. “Then do you want me to pass with flying colors... or fail miserably?”
She hums, low and thoughtful, the sound skimming along the shell of his ear. “That depends…”
Her fingers trail from his jawline down to the collar of his shirt, brushing barely-there touches that make him twitch under her. Her hips shift just a little, barely, but enough to remind him who’s in control.
“On?” he asks, and it’s a little breathless, a little desperate.
She meets his eyes again, her expression unreadable for a beat. Then, with a wicked little smile:
“On how entertaining your struggle is.”
He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh caught in a groan. “Oh, I see. You want a show.”
MC nods, mock-innocent. “I waited three days. Seems fair I get some entertainment.”
“Then I hope you enjoy watching a man fall apart, your highness,” he mutters, trying to keep still even as her hands dip just under the hem of his shirt, palms warm against his skin.
She pauses, enjoying the tension curling tight between them. “You’re not allowed to move unless I say so,” she adds, brushing her lips against his cheek – but not quite kissing him. “And no evol. If I even feel a tug of gravity...”
“I won’t,” he promises instantly. “No evol. No hands. No movement. Just...” Torture.
She chuckles, finally settling her weight more firmly on his hips. “Exactly.”
His hands clench at his sides, his breathing uneven, and she can feel the tight coil of restraint beneath her like a drawn string.
“I should be mad at you more often,” she muses aloud. “You’re kind of cute like this.”
He closes his eyes with a strained smile breathing softly out his nose in an ironic chuckle. “Glad I can be of service.”
“Good,” she whispers, and leans in again. “Because I’ve just barely gotten started.”
His eyes flicker open at that, dark with anticipation and lust. She sees it all – how tightly he's wound, how badly he wants to move, touch her, flip them over. And she also sees how hard he's trying not to. Her hands, splayed open, find their way slowly up his torso as she moves her hips, straddling him lower. He bites his lips, eyebrows knitted, breath catching as she can feel through their pants exactly how much he's holding back.
“Take your shirt off, Caleb.”
He doesn’t move. Not at first.
His eyes search hers, questioning, hopeful, desperate for permission, because technically, that would mean breaking the rules. And she's made those rules very clear.
So she just raises an eyebrow. “Huh? You need help understanding basic commands now, Pilot?”
That’s all it takes.
Caleb sits up slightly, just enough to reach behind his neck and pull the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, jaw tight the entire time. She watches the shift in his shoulders, the flex of restraint even in something so simple. He drops the shirt to the floor beside the couch without taking his eyes off her.
“Much better, good boy.” She drags her palms across his now heaving chest, letting her nails trace faintly, enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. She's always loved his muscles, and as they flex with tightly bound desire she drinks him in with her gaze and careful touch.
“Remind me to never upset you again…” he groans, laying back down as she pushes him gently.
“You won't forget, I'm sure.” She smirks at him, truly enjoying him being so helpless.
“Please, can I fail just a little, pipsqueak?” He begs huskily, almost making her weak enough to forget her plan, but it's not enough.
“No way. Pass this with flying colors like you have everything else, my sweet Valedictorian. Perfect marks. Be a good boy.”
He nearly whimpers and she revels in it.
“You’re taking this seriously,” she whispers, letting a finger trace the edge of his ribcage, “I appreciate the effort.”
“I’m trying so hard,” he grits, voice tight, strained, barely holding onto control. “You have no idea.”
“Oh but I do.” She grins devilishly at that, leaning in and planting a kiss to his throat.
He trembles beneath her. His muscles are tense, breathing shallow– but he doesn't move. Doesn't grab, and he doesn't flip her over like she can tell he's dying to. His pulse thumps erratically against her lips.
“Three days,” she mutters softly, breath hot against his throat. “Do you know what that does to a girl?”
“I’m learning,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut like he can’t take looking at her anymore without breaking her so called “rules”.
She leans in again, lips at the shell of his ear. “And if I decide I don’t want to let you pass this test?”
He grunts – wound up, helpless, so full of wanting it cuts through the air like static. “Then I’ll fail spectacularly,” he whispers, “but only if you make me. I'm already on the edge of it.”
She giggles softly, unable to contain how that pleases her. Her hands delicately grace his throat, resting there as she kisses just below his ear, then his jaw, the corner of his lips. She slides her hands down his trembling body like reading scripture in braille as she kisses his throat (twice), his chest, his ribs…
When her hands rest they are on either side of his waist, thumbs brushing up and down his stomach. His fists clench as she kisses his sternum, just above his belt, darting her tongue out for a millisecond. He twitches his hands, and in his pants.
“I'm one move away from failing, MC," his voice is a husky groan as his head is thrown back, hands balled into shaking fists. "Is this a punishment... or...?”
“…Or?” she echoes, voice low, breath warm against his skin. She doesn’t lift her head. She just hovers there, lips parted just above the line of his belt, her fingers now resting unbearably light over his hip bones. The control in her touch is both maddening and deliberate. Calculated.
“...Do you want to keep going?” Caleb’s voice is gruff, harsh with self-control and want. “If you keep going, I won't be… able… to let you off the hook. Even if you claim you're doing… it on a whim…” He's breathless, frustrated, his knuckles turning white with gripped restraint.
Her reply is syrupy and as sweet as it is torturous. “Shh… Are you forgetting” Another kiss to his sternum... “Who” A kiss to the cool metal of his buckle. “Is in charge?” Her breath hovers below his belt, her mouth centimeters away from his clothed arousal.
“Please…” Caleb chokes out, desperately hanging by a tight thread of control.
She lifts her head at this, allowing the word to linger in the air for just a moment before responding with a sweetened smile and a whispering voice. “You sound so desperate, Caleb… I like this… the sound of you begging for me… Music to my ears.”
He groans and it's deep and guttural, pained pleasure wrapped in reverence. His eyes flutter open, just enough to meet hers through the haze of desire and restraint.
“That’s because I am desperate,” he grits, voice shaking. “For you.”
Her lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, satisfaction, maybe. Or mercy, laced with a promise she hasn’t decided to grant yet.
“You’re doing so well,” she whispers, almost mockingly tender as her fingers dip just under the waistband of his pants, but don’t venture further. Her touch is light, barely there, a spark without flame. “And you’ve been so obedient.”
His hips twitch, bucking just slightly beneath her, involuntary, restrained.
“I told you,” he breathes, “I’ll do anything. Just… please.”
She hums again, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm… you almost sound like you're sorry.”
“I am sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry.”
That does it.
She sits up slowly, eyes locked with his, hands dragging up his sides as she speaks.
“Good. Because only good boys get what they want.” A beat. “And you’ve been so good for me.”
He barely has time to exhale before she leans in again, this time with intent.
And then, all at once, she kisses him hard, pushing him flat against the couch again as the dam of tension finally, finally snaps. His hands rise, cautiously at first, then urgently, moving to grip her waist, as he grounds himself in the fact that yes, finally, the test is over.
She moves to unbutton his pants and undo his belt, pulling it out of his pants and tossing it to the floor with a clank. Suddenly, Caleb's evol is hovering her above him, suspending her in air until he flips their positions.
He's lifted up above her his hands and buff arms on either side of her head. “I might… fuck” he kisses her collarbone while moving one arm to take off her shirt. She lifts her arms as he pulls it up and off her, and the fabric joins his on the floor.
“You might what?” She asks him, her voice cracking with anticipation.
He bites her neck, drawing a mangled moan from her at last. He's breathing like an animal and already damp with sweat. “I might have… run out… of self control.”
“You earned it… do your worst– and don’t make me wait for it.” She mutters, gripping him tightly. Knowing that with him, she always gets what she wants. One way or another.
