Lnds Caleb - Blog Posts

CALEB !!!

M'so broke tryn' to get his outfit but t'was worth it ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

I lost on my 20th pull on Zayne. Felt sad.

Realized I got an achievent from Caleb about being with him for a 100 days. He texts "I'll be there in 5 minutes"

Okay sure! I finish the text.

Do a 10 pull. HE COMES HOME 😭😭❓️❓️

SO HE WASN'T LYING ABOUT COMING BACK IN 5 MINUTES 😭😭

Just opened the event for Caleb and claimed the free 10 pulls in the shop!!

ANOTHER 5 STAR AFTER GETTING HIS PAIR CARDS TOGETHER?? NOW I'M SET FOR HIS NEXT BANNER SINCE I'M GUARANTEED NOW??

Not gonna lie. I would also date LADS MC too.

CALEB !!!

In the guaranted 5s in 24 pulls, Rafayel came home. So after that, he came home in 50 pulls!!!

On the other hand, I made a bet with my friends that if he came home, I have to write a 10k word fanfic... now I don't have a choice 🫠

Caleb from Love and Deepspace

Caleb from Love and Deepspace

chapter one ── pest control. the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies

chapter summary. ┆ caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

Most days in Linkon City begin with sirens.

Loud, blaring, unmistakable screeches that cut through the early morning quiet like a blade, carving their way through alleyways and avenues alike. They seep into walls, curl beneath locked doors, and coil around the restless minds of those who have long since stopped flinching at their call.

To them, the inhabitants of this city, it is nothing more than background noise—a city’s heartbeat, rhythmic and ceaseless. But to you, it is a warning. A sign that the world beyond the window of your dorm room is a battlefield, and you, a stranger in its midst, are only beginning to understand the rules of this strange place.

Perhaps, in time, you will grow desensitized as they have. Learn to sleep through the wailing cries, to walk these streets without the ever-present weight of caution pressing against your ribs. In a way, they forbade you from venturing out, instilling a fear within you that if you did, you would be the individual these melodies chased—or worse, the victim they had been called for in the first place. 

The entirety of the first semester has passed, and you haven’t even finished unpacking. Your suitcase remains half-full, a tangible reminder that you do not yet belong here. That you still have a choice—to do something before this place sinks its teeth into you, before you become just another soul who mistakes chaos for comfort.

But that choice is an illusion.

Here, people like you make no difference. You are not a hero, nor anything close to it. You are just a student who knows better, one who recognizes that the sirens will always be there, a requiem for the city’s unrest. And the crime will persist, as will the men in uniform who fail to stop it.

Somewhere beyond the blaring wails, beyond the tangled skyline and shadowed alleys, someone is fighting a battle you will never quite understand.

And for now, all you can do is listen.

Yet, in a way, you know that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Despite its rapidly deteriorating surroundings, Linkon University remained a place of prestige. Young children dreamed of acceptance into its ranks, babbling to their parents about how they, too, would one day make these halls their stomping grounds. Maybe it was naivety that brought you here. Or maybe it was the last remnants of a dream that hadn’t yet died on your tongue.

Or perhaps, it was the medical journalism program—a rare gem, dwindling into obscurity at every other university.

You were lucky to be accepted. But humbly speaking, luck had very little to do with it. Your stats spoke for themselves: a 1540 SAT, a 4.98 weighted GPA, more extracurriculars than you could count on both hands. A smart cookie, as written in the shining letters of recommendation that paved your way here.

And yet, imposter syndrome festered like a quiet disease, creeping into the spaces between your confidence. You have spent your entire life at the top. Always number one.

Here? You were number two.

Number two to whom? You did not know. Not yet, anyway.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb’s perfect life has unraveled in the span of a week and a half, but he positively swears it’s not his fault.

It’s yours.

Ten days ago, at precisely 12:57 PM, he endured the worst torment known to man: his seat in the lecture hall was stolen. A cruel move, truly. Class had been in session for four days, he’d claimed that seat twice—twice—and by the unspoken law of university students everywhere, that granted him full ownership. So why, then, were you sitting in his allotted property?

Looking back, Caleb sees only two possible explanations. The first: you had unknowingly taken the seat after enrolling just before the census date. The second: you were out to get him from the very start.

And personally? He’s convinced it’s the latter.

But alas, he hadn’t made a fuss about it then. It wasn’t like he’d just lost the single best seat in the entire hall—the one with perfect access to the exit, the projector, and the professor’s desk. But hey, he could be cool about this, right? Yeah… totally cool. So cool. The coolest.

Days passed, and everyone seemed to be settling into the spring semester just fine. The weather was getting warmer, flowers on the great lawn were blooming, and Caleb was thriving.

That was, until the unthinkable happened.

Time? 2:19 PM. Class? CHEM 001 AH. Location? The Grand Hall.

Caleb sat directly behind you, having resigned himself to the second best seat in the room, as the sound of pencils scratching against paper filled the otherwise quiet space.

Taking practice exams felt pointless. A waste of time, really. His efforts could be better spent elsewhere—like taking the real exam or absolutely demolishing his roommate Zayne in Apex Legends yet again. But instead, here he was, surrounded by classmates diligently scribbling away as the session inched closer to its eventual end.

And when it did, Caleb would have simply packed up and gone on his merry way—if not for the single most bone-chilling sentence he had ever heard in his entire academic career.

You were chatting with the girl beside you, talking about things he had zero interest in. Your shared biology class at 3 PM, your dorm building, plans to meet up at the dining hall later… blah blah blah. But then—an acronym. A single, horrific acronym triggered him like a sleeper agent.

“My GPA? Oh, it’s… 4.30. I think. To be honest, it’s been a while since I checked.”

His jaw went slack. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

A 4.30 GPA? No. No. That couldn’t be real. That could not be real.

But as his gaze flickered between the back of your head and your friend’s, he came to the most horrifying conclusion of all.

You weren’t lying. And if that were true… then that meant you had the same GPA he did.

Which meant that, depending on your course load and how well you performed, you could take his spot as number one in the class rank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb burst into his dorm room, slinging his backpack onto his mattress before face-planting into it with a sound somewhere between a groan and a hmph.

Across the room, Zayne didn’t even glance up from his desk, fingers tapping away at his mounted laptop. Click, clack. Click, clack. For a stretch of time, that was the only sound in the room—until he finally exhaled, the kind of quiet sigh that could only mean here we go again.

“Rough day?”

Caleb didn’t even hesitate. “The worst day.”

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, like he was mentally preparing himself, before pushing away from his desk and turning his chair just enough to look at his roommate. “What happened?”

Still face-down on the bed, Caleb let out a long, exaggerated sigh—nowhere near as silent as Zayne’s. “I think I have to take trig next semester. Honors.”

That made Zayne pause. Brow quirked, he leaned back. “Why? Your counselor quite literally said you’re already on track to graduate with honors and as one of the top-ranked students in our year.”

That was the problem, though. Caleb wasn’t satisfied with being one of the best. He wanted to be the best—and now, that source of pride was under attack.

“Well, that was before I found out I’m sharing a GPA with some girl in my chem lecture,” he said, rolling onto his back to stare blankly at the ceiling. “Which means if I don’t get my shit together and pack on a few more honors courses, I’m cooked.”

Zayne laughed. Actually laughed. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk, plucked his glasses off the mousepad, and slid them on. “You should hear yourself right now.”

Caleb’s head snapped to the side, eyebrows pinching together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just amusing, is all.” Zayne smirked. “I find it endearing that you, Mr. ‘I can skip the final and still pass with a 94%,’ Mr. ‘I think I might take astronomy honors for fun this semester,’—”

“All riiight, I get it,” Caleb cut in. “What’s your point?”

Zayne snickered, amused. “My point is that if you of all people feel threatened by a classmate you hardly know, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

Caleb hated that there was probably some truth to that. Not that he’d ever admit it. Being threatened by a classmate he barely knew? Please. He knew enough. (And yes, he had meticulously sifted through the entire roster of his chemistry class to stalk your Canvas profile. What? It’s… field research.)

“Y’know, you’re terrible at pep talks,” he muttered, folding his hands behind his head.

“I’m not trying to be,” Zayne replied easily. “But if you want my input—take the trig course next semester. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Caleb rolled onto his side, fishing his laptop from his backpack as the weight of his evening workload settled in.

And maybe Zayne was right.

Maybe he would need all the help he could get.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

It wasn’t until six days later—today—that Caleb knew for certain fate was no longer on his side.

The professor’s voice cut through the shuffle of students packing up their belongings, all of which were currently praying that their first lab of the semester wouldn’t be a complete and utter disaster. It was a well known fact that Dr. Rappaccini was quite the harsh critic, and an even harsher grader. Her score on Rate My Professors was a whopping 2.8/5 for crying out loud.

“Alright, it’s time for you all to receive your lab partners for the semester. Before heading to the lab next door, please check the list of pairings at the front.”

Luckily, Caleb had committed the syllabus to memory and knew that each person was scored individually no matter how their partner performed, but it was recommended that the pair conduct their experiments together to save time and... okay, maybe he hadn’t memorized it as well as he thought, but at least he knew the core details, right?

Scanning the list, his blood ran cold. He squinted, hoping that the prescription of his glasses had failed him, but of course, it was unmistakable. Your name was printed next to his. Emboldened, unignorable, in a perfectly neutral 12 pt Times New Roman font.

The walk to the laboratory was a quiet one, and you were walking a few feet ahead of him without a care in the world. Reaching for the door handle, he twisted the metallic lever and gestured for you to enter ahead of him with a single nod of his head. It was a force of habit. He may not care for you as an academic peer, but you didn't directly wrong him in any way. Not knowingly, that is.

With a curt nod of your own and a sliver of a smile, you entered the class with a quiet “thank you.”

And before he could follow in step behind you, the neverending line of your fellow classmates began to flood into the room, leaving him to stand idle while offering each of them a thin-lipped smile. It felt like an eternity before he was able to step inside of the laboratory too, and his first instinct was to map out the classroom to find the best possible seating arrangement. 

To his surprise… you’d already claimed the most optimal lab station, and as he approached, you made the first move to speak. 

“I hope you’re okay with sitting here,” you say, fishing out your sleek notebook and a bright blue pencil. “It’s the only lab station with equal access to the exit, the supplies cabinet, and the professor’s desk.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as bewilderment etches into his features. Were you inside of his brain? He clears his throat, shaking away his confusion as he nods. “Yeah, I’m alright with this spot. Good choice.” 

Smiling, you nod too. “Cool.” 

A beat of silence passes, and you smooth your hands over the black resin material of the table, a movement that his eyes instinctively follow. Then, your hand raises and extends out to him, forcing him to blink himself out of his state of daydreaming. 

You say your name while tilting your head with a smile—this time, a smile with teeth—as you wait for his hand to take yours. “And you’re… Xia?” 

Raising his eyebrows, he shakes his head while a chuckle slips through his carefully crafted exterior. “Caleb,” he corrects, his firm grasp enveloping your hand as he gives it a shake. “Caleb Xia.”

“Ah, got it,” you remark, an epiphany dawning on you as you slip your hand from his hold. “Well, I’m going to go get our safety goggles.” 

But before leaving, you straightened, eyes glued to him—or rather, his head.

Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Caleb’s lip tugs up in the corner. “What are you doing?”

Tapping your chin, you sigh. “I’m trying to see if you have a big head. If you do, I’ll have to go fight tooth and nail for one of the ones with adjustable straps.” 

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, he rests his elbow on the edge of the table before leaning his cheek into his hand. “Well, lay it on me. What’s your diagnosis?”

Humming, you tilt your head back and forth before nodding your head a single time. “Big-head syndrome. I’m positive.”

Caleb’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “I should take that as a compliment. Big head means big brain, you know.”

“Or a big ego,” you retort with a shrug, giving him a once-over with raised brows before whisking away towards the horde of students currently going to war over the remaining pick of the litter. 

Yeah, that too, he thinks. 

In your absence, he takes the liberty of prepping the lab for the both of you. Beakers? Check. Random substance that the two of you were going to be experimenting on? Check. Hydrochloric acid? Check. Sodium bicarbonate? Check—

“Safety goggles,” you state, plopping down on your stool and handing his pair to him.

Without missing a beat, he speaks. “Check.”

Drawing back slightly, you turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Uh… yeah. Check.”

Faltering, Caleb slides the item onto his face as he stammers through his words. “I was just… never mind, let’s start.”

The class had settled into a low hum—the murmur of newly paired partners, the scribbling of notes, the soft hiss of chemicals reacting. 

As the two of you began the experiment, an incredibly prominent conclusion dawned on him: Disliking you as a person wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. As a competitor? You were treacherous. As a lab partner? You were… tolerable. Efficient. Annoyingly easy to work with. 

It wasn’t the end result that he was hoping for, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He wanted you to be difficult to be around, he wanted you to be stuck up, he wanted you to give him a genuine reason to dislike you apart from being the root of his newfound insecurity. But you weren’t, and that was a problem. 

“Pass me the baking soda?” you ask.

“The sodium bicarbonate?”

“Yeah. The baking soda.”

Caleb tilts his head with a smile. “Also known as sodium bicarbonate.”

You glance his way, and your eyes met. “Congrats, big guy. You know big words. Now pass it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Biting back a smile, he hands it over, only to retract it at the last second. “Wait. What’s it called again?”

Your force smile was all teeth. “Sodium bicarbonate.”

Finally relenting, Caleb places the bowl in your orbit with a triumphant grin. 

He was smart enough to know that this was a bad idea. Despite how easily the two of you worked together, he knew that he couldn’t entertain this any further. You weren’t just his classmate, his peer—you were his competition. And while he’s heard the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer just as many times as the next person, he knows that mixing any ounce of developing friendship with his pursuit for greatness would be wrong.

It would work best that way. You can’t be friends, and that’s okay.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, fate seemed to agree with him.

“Hmm,” Caleb soon rumbles, squinting at the beaker. “This isn’t lookin’ too good. You said you added the sodium bicarbonate, yeah?”

You frown, glancing up from your notes. Your stomach twists at the sight of the clock—barely any time left before the lab ends. The professor would be making her rounds any second now.

“What? I didn’t add it. You said you added it.”

Caleb flits his gaze to the side of your face. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast he was surprised it didn’t snap right off. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

You exhale sharply, frustration creeping up your neck. “How are you gonna tell me what I did or didn’t do?”

Your pulse ticks up a bit faster than it naturally should, and your eyes rose up from the glass cylinder. Around the room, students were already wrapping up their conclusions while the two of you hadn’t even finished the experiment. You suck in a breath and push up from your stool.

“Fine. Fine. Can you just pass me the baking soda?”

Caleb nods, handing over the pre-measured bowl of sodium bicarbonate. While you worked to fix the mess, he jotted down a few quick notes. You added just enough of the powder to neutralize the acid—but not smother it completely.

And then? Silence. The two of you sat. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Then, miraculously, the beaker decided to behave and the fizzing subsided.

Like clockwork, you both exhaled, shoulders slumping as small, victorious smiles tugged at your mouths—

Until yours vanished entirely. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Caleb falters, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“Well, you should have.”

“Why? If I hadn’t pointed out the weird reaction, we’d have been screwed.”

“Oh? If I hadn’t realized neither of us added the sodium bicarbonate—which was your responsibility, by the way—we would’ve actually been screwed.”

Tension thickened between you like a drawn bowstring. You clench your jaw and look away, scribbling down your final observations. Stupid man, you thought to yourself. And here you were, actually believing that this semester wouldn’t be a total shitshow, that maybe, just maybe, you’d gotten lucky.

Unfortunately not.

Then, your attention was caught by something out of the ordinary. Your gaze lands on his neck, and your breath hitched. Staring back at you was a small, multi-legged beady eyed monster. Sticking out your pointer finger, you still find yourself instinctively drawing back, as if it were out to get you next. “There’s a spider on—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Caleb winced, his veins tightening as he instinctively flicked the eight-legged menace off. You sucked your teeth, drumming your fingers on the table. So much for your timely warning.

Glancing his way, your brows elevate as you see the already forming bite mark on his neck. “Yikes. It got you good.”

“Did it?” he asks, raising a hand to rub over the mark with narrowed eyes. “Hm. Guess so, yeah.”

Reluctantly, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

With a nod, he picks up his pencil once more and works on finishing the last of his lab report. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sighing airily, you can’t help the smile that tugs on your mouth. “Poor spider, being flicked through the air like that.”

Like routine, Caleb shot a glare your way. “Funny.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you left for the washing station. Meanwhile, Dr. Rappaccini stood from her desk, making her rounds. It was in that moment that a shrill of panic shot up his spine—the stimulation foreign, unfamiliar, and… terrifying. 

He could feel his heart rate shooting through the roof, a sweat break on his forehead, and his fingertips flex at his sides—all things that he wasn’t even conscious of. And before he knew it, he was glancing in your direction, noting that you were distracted. Good.

With a quick ease, he snatched up your notepad and erased a few numbers, replacing them with subtle, logicless mistakes. 34? Now a 26. 32 to the power of 5? Not anymore.

It wasn’t his proudest moment. Sabotaging his own lab partner’s work? Definitely not.

Ten seconds. That’s all it took to ruin you just enough. He slid the notepad back into place, brushing away the eraser shavings. Like clockwork, you returned, none the wiser.

Exhaling softly, you turned to him. “Look, I just wanted to say that—”

“Now, you two,” Dr. Rappaccini’s voice cut you off.

You both turned as she scanned and picked up Caleb’s report, making a few marks with her fine-pointed marker before sliding it back into place. You glanced over, making note of his grade. 94.

Then, she picked up yours. A moment later, she handed it back. Your professor held up a roll of stickers, tearing two off before setting them down on the table.

Despite the vibrant designs on the stickers, your stomach dropped. Your grade was big, bold, and unmistakable. 82.

“Wait—Dr. Rappaccini,” you call after her, staring at the page with widened eyes of shock. “I… I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“Well, your experiment was solid—your observations were well-written, and your documentation was precise. But your math?” She sighs. “Completely off.” A beat of silence. Then, a smile. “Don’t feel discouraged. You’re a good student as you are—no need to compare your scores to others.”

The implication was clear. She thought you were smart—just not as smart as Caleb.

Huffing, you toss your notebook onto the table, fingers curling against the edge of it.

“You got cut off earlier,” he says casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What were you sayin’?”

Blinking, you tried to retrace your thoughts. “Oh, yeah… I was just saying that…”

Your voice trails, eyes drifting to your lab report. Caleb caught the flicker of realization dawning on you—and when you turned to him, his not-so-hidden grin said it all.

“I was just saying,” you snap, “that you’re an asshole whose handwriting looks like a drunk chicken clawed at my report.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says with a shrug, peeling off his sticker to plaster it onto your shoulder. “Good luck on the exam tomorrow morning.”

And with that, he walks out of the lab.

“Yeah, you too,” you murmur, though he was already gone before he could hear the hissed “bitch” that followed.

Irritation pricks at your skin as you stuff—more like shove—your belongings into your backpack. Prick. So much for not knowing the single person you were beneath in the class ranks.

Guilt stirred in his chest as he walked towards his dorm building… but only a little.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

By the time Caleb stumbled back to his dorm, he felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.

He barely managed to push the door open before kicking off his shoes, letting his backpack slump to the floor with a heavy thud. His head swam, his breath uneven as he widened his eyes in a feeble attempt to stay awake. Slapping himself on the cheek, he quickly realized it was no use. His neck stung worse than it had when the spider first bit him, the dull throb pulsing beneath his fingertips as he rubbed over the puncture point.

"Are you drunk?" Zayne’s voice drifts from across the room.

"No," Caleb mutters, face buried in his pillow. "Just… tired. Really tired."

He sank into the thin mattress like dead weight, the springs groaning beneath him. With sluggish hands, he pulled his glasses from his face and tossed them onto the bedside table, missing by an inch. His breathing grew heavier, his skin slick with cold sweat. His pupils—blown wide as saucers—fluttered shut as he barely mustered the strength to tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

And within seconds, he was out like a light.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, painting golden stripes across Caleb’s bare back as he jolted awake.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic breaths, but despite the abruptness of it all, he felt… alert. Fully awake in a way that didn’t exactly make sense.

Blinking rapidly, he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face with a groggy groan. And then—he froze.

His vision was still blurry.

Frowning, he pulled his glasses off, breathed onto the lenses, and wiped them against his bedsheet. When he slid them back on—blurry again. He pulled them down. Clear. Glasses up. Blurry. Glasses down. Clear.

He stares at them in his hands. “...Weird.”

Setting the frames down, he threw his legs over the bed and staggered toward his closet—only to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Since when the hell did he have abs?

He flexed instinctively, stomach tensing under his own scrutiny. Then his gaze trailed up—to his arms. His biceps. His shoulders.

Turning, twisting, he inspected every angle of himself like a stranger in his own skin. He’d been in shape before, sure, but this? This was different. He would’ve noticed this.

Knuckles rapped against the door, making him flinch.

“Caleb? Are you awake? I forgot my key.” A pause. Then, “Are you feeling any better? You slept like a log last night—perhaps you’re catching a bug.”

"A bug?" Caleb echoes under his breath, flexing again just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Holy shit… Uh, yeah, man, I’m good. Just—gimme a sec.”

Turning back toward his desk, he reached for his chair, only meaning to push it aside—but the moment his palm touched the wood, it stuck.

His brows furrow.

He yanks once. Then again.

Nothing.

His heartbeat quickens as he curls his fingers, attempting to lift his hand—and instead, he lifts the entire chair clean off the ground.

“What the—” His stomach drops. He waved his hand. The chair waved with it. Up. Down. Side to side. Still stuck.

“Caleb?” Zayne calls from the other side of the door.

Caleb whips his head toward the sound, panic tightening in his throat. Shit. He bolted across the room—chair still attached to his palm—and somehow managed to unlock the door just as Zayne strode in.

Zayne, clearly in a rush, barely spared him a glance as he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, clipped them together, and breezed back out with a nod.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Caleb exhaled sharply—only to realize his hand was still stuck… to the doorknob.

Huffing, he gave it a firm tug, expecting it to pop free. Instead, the entire knob wrenched out of the door, hinges snapping with a loud crack.

"Shit."

He barely had time to process before his body betrayed him once again—this time, with a sharp thwip.

A thick strand of silk shot from his wrist, attaching him to his bedpost.

His pulse stuttered. 

"What. The. Fuck."

Another sharp tug. Another web. More panic. Before he knew it, his dorm room looked like a crime scene from some horror movie—threads of silk stretching from walls to furniture to the ceiling.

His gaze snapped to the clock on his desk. 12:56 PM.

"Alright," he mutters, inhaling deeply. "Exam starts in four minutes. I’m sticking to everything I touch. I’m half-naked. Cool, cool, cool."

But nothing about this was cool.

If anyone in the history of Linkon University could take an exam like this, it was going to be him.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

a/n like & reblog if you enjoyed!! this was really fun to write :) also i should’ve mentioned it rly isnt specified how old reader is, just that she’s in college and just starting her second semester at linkon university :) she can be a transfer student (which is kinda what i had in mind), a first year, etc lol it doesn’t really matter bc i’m fine with that being a “plot hole”

i could not stop laughing while writing this at 4am bc i was just imagining caleb coming up with an elaborate ass internalized beef with reader and she’s just sitting in her chem lab like

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

Viral comedy movies

Ugh I Need more toxic Caleb content. I need him to kidnap me, to drug me, to isolate me from everything and everyone else.. I’m delusional and down bad

Pathetic Caleb who is desperate for ur pussy, there's not a day that goes by without his face between your thighs,Reader giving him a pussy ban and he's doing his best to not dive in whenever reader is doing basic domestic things,like make him cry and beg for it

Thank you anon let’s fucking go

It’s getting to the point where you can’t go a day without Caleb begging for your pussy. Even after a hard day of work, you come home and he’s practically salivating at the idea of drowning in your juices. Barely a step through the door to his apartment and he’s trying to tear off your clothes, guiding you to relax on the couch or the bed, it doesn’t matter as long as he can get between those soft thighs of yours. But it’s too much, it’s like he’s sucked your clit raw from eating you out day after day without break. You feel your overstimulated bud rubbing against your panties during the workday and you decide it’s time for a break.

“Caleb, wait-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before he’s using his evol to close the door behind you, pushing you against it and shoving his lips against yours.

“We need to talk.” You finally manage to speak when he pulls away to breathe. He looks at you with those classic puppy eyes and you almost relent, but you need to set this boundary, even if it’s only temporary.

“Can we do something else tonight? I love when you eat me out it’s just..” you trail off as you see his face fall, knowing his mind is reeling.

Was he not making you feel good enough? There’s no way you were faking your orgasms, he was sure of that, but was there something he was doing wrong?

You cup his cheek with your palm, reassuring his nerves.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Caleb. I …” you sigh, realizing you’re going to have to put it bluntly.

“My clit hurts from you sucking on it nightly..”

His immediate relief is clear before he furrows his brows once again.

“You’re saying we need to stop? But-“ he cuts himself off. He’d never want to hurt you, but he craves your taste. He’d gone the whole day dreaming about drinking in your sweet slick, now you’re telling him he has to go without?

“I understand, I’m sorry, pipsqueak.” He smiles, but you can tell it’s not genuine.

***

You’re once again throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arching as he brings you close to your second orgasm of the night. There’s no doubt he loves the sight of your pleasure, but he can feel his mouth grow dry with desire. Caleb’s eyes dart downward, longingly gazing at where your bodies become one. You’re drenched in a combination of both of your liquids and he’s desperate for a taste. That’s all he needs. A taste.

He can’t control himself. You’re still riding out your high as he pulls out, giving one long kiss to your sopping cunt, desperately drinking it in as much as he can before you realize what’s happening.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles between your thighs, the movement of his lips only causing your orgasm to be drawn out further. He’ll take a break from it tomorrow, but tonight he needs his fill.

Pleaseee give me more things to write about because I’m incapable of coming up with my own ideas

kinda obsessed with how gritty and borderline depraved your version of Caleb is😍🥵 do you think he gets jealous easily?

Sorry omg I’m so down bad for pervs 😭 but YES he would absolutely be the most jealous guy in the world

Gonna make this one a little more fucked up just a warning

Caleb hated when anyone so much as looked at you. It didn’t matter who they were: they could be coworkers, friends, even a barista; it didn’t matter. In his eyes, you were his, he should be the only one to lay eyes on you.

It was manageable at first- he’d limit himself to glaring daggers and balling his fists while giving the fakest of smiles. But with time, he began to slip up. That barista that had remembered your order stopped showing up to work, and your friends started canceling plans. But Caleb covered his tracks, you’d never have to know how much he did for you. He’d always be there to support you when you were upset that no one seemed to want to spend time with you anymore. He was all you needed anyway.

You stopped going out, and he made no effort to change that. He wanted nothing more than to keep you to himself- only he could protect you. It’s not like you needed two incomes anyway, being a colonel supported the both of you, and it kept you away from that coworker he never liked.

Eventually you started going out again, after all, it was a new year. Then the door started malfunctioning. It was weird, Caleb never seemed to have the same issue, but he explained that it must’ve been a technical problem and that was enough for you. He always kept you entertained, fed, clean… happy for the most part.

Let me know if you’d like me to write more

r u ok with somnophilia?

bc I can’t help but think Caleb would eventually escalate from sniffing MC’s panties to touching himself while looking at her, and then maybe cumming on her, and then what if he rubs his cum on her slit (god she’s already so wet for him), and then….

YES I’m a massive fan of somno personally obv TW for that below the cut

I think he’d be so pervy about it because he doesn’t want to wake her up, but she looks so cute all curled up next to him. At first he settles with just stroking himself while admiring how adorable she looks, but then she adjusts her position in her sleep, revealing more of her skin…

She’s such a deep sleeper, he just has to be gentle. In her new position he realizes he can grind against her thighs, and god are they soft. They feel so warm as he slides himself in and out, not realizing that with each thrust he’s getting closer and closer to her pussy until he can hear the obscene squelching as their juices mingle. It’s here when he loses all control, using one hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle his moans and the other to hold him up over MC’s body as he rapidly thrusts against her wet core. Clearly her body wanted this even if she wasn’t conscious, right? He’s only doing what’s best for her.

She’s such a deep sleeper that she only wakes up hours later, still cuddled up to her big brother, but there’s more than her own slick between her thighs.

Caleb’s friends from college realizing that his new “girlfriend” has the same name as his sister he mentioned a while back. They don’t say anything just to see how far he’ll go. Not thinking they’d ever have to overhear him fucking her in the next room while she moans his name. Gross.

They knew he turned down every girl who ever showed interest, but they never thought for a moment that she was the reason why.

Your headcanons are so delicious🤌

Can you imagine taking Caleb’s virginity? All those years of pining and teasing and cold, cold showers….

Thank you for this omg I love virgin Caleb

Surely Caleb must have realized how thin the walls are by now. Even with his shirt in his mouth to muffle his whines it was obvious what he was doing every night.. and morning.. and sometimes in the middle of the day. Did he not realize how obvious he was being when he suddenly excused himself to go take a cold shower after your cuddling on the couch got a little more touchy than usual?

This time was no different. It was late- you both should’ve been asleep by now. Instead you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling while trying to block out the sound of your adopted brother thrusting into his hand on the other side of the wall. You normally wouldn’t mind- sometimes you’d even press your ear against the wall and close your eyes, trying to imagine how he looks as he whimpers against his sheets. Tonight, however, you needed to sleep and his pathetic little noises weren’t helping.

Caleb never locked his door; he’d always reminded you that he would always be there for you whenever you needed him. He’d never thought you’d need him at 11:30 PM though.

Dressed in one of the shirts you’d stolen from him and nothing else, you swing open his door right as your name escapes his lips.

He scrambles to cover himself, but the friction of his sheets against his painfully hard cock sends a shiver through his body and a quiet yelp slips out.

“Having trouble sleeping?” He finally manages to stutter as if he’d not been moaning your name moments prior. Then his eyes slide down your body, seeing nothing but bare skin under his shirt. The fabric barely conceals you, covering just enough to hide the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re being too loud.”

You wouldn’t normally be this bold, but those years of secretly sneaking lustful glances at each other, of hands wandering just a little too far for siblings, and ensuring that no one came between the two of you had led you to this moment. He doesn’t stop you when you pull back his sheets; he just gives you those pathetic puppy eyes as the cold air hits his sensitive skin.

“I’m sorry”

Ignoring his words, you climb on top of him, legs straddling his as you cover his mouth with your palm.

“Be quiet.”

He’s never felt himself ache like this before. His eyes widen as your other hand slips downwards, wrapping itself around his cock. Caleb shakes his head as his eyes beg you to stop. You shouldn’t be doing this. But you know he needs it. You’ve heard him mumbling fantasies just like this countless times from the other side of the wall. He needs it.

His eyes roll back as he feels you press him against your drenched core. It takes everything in him not to climax right then and there, but he manages to hold out. You slip his length inside with ease as if you were made for each other. His whole body trembles beneath you as you feel him panting beneath your palm. His whines only get louder as you move- not even riding him, just readjusting your position. It’s clear he can’t take much more. His eyes meet yours once more and he silently pleads for it to stop- he can’t take it, it’s too much. You nod, the gesture giving him enough confirmation that he had permission.

You take your palm away from his lips as he cums, his whole body shaking from pleasure as he whimpers and moans before your lips crash against his. Caleb’s hands move to your hair, wrapping themselves around you just to hold you closer. Your lips against his are the only thing stopping him from waking the whole neighborhood with his desperate whines.

Eventually, he comes down from his high and you manage to peel yourself away from him, allowing him to catch his breath. He can’t meet your eyes, ashamed of reaching his peak within seconds of being inside of you. You slowly move away, releasing him from the softness and warmth of your pussy. Just that act alone causes him to choke and you can see a tiny dribble of cum escape his tip. While he’s still catching his breath, you lean down and kiss it, licking up the tiny droplets that slip down the side. Then you simply hop up and give him a teasing grin before giving him a quick peck on the lips, letting him taste himself.

He’s still in a daze as you slip out of his room and back into your own, but a few minutes later you hear the sound water running. It seems like another cold shower is needed.

Idk if you do asks/requests but given your bc of Caleb as whiny and desperate, can we get your thoughts on MC finally letting him creampie/rawdog? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top

Oh boy I think it would be similar to Zayne’s recent drunk card; I want to imagine Caleb would get intoxicated and just lose all control.

The thought of putting on a condom doesn’t even cross his mind, all he needs is to be inside of her. He can’t get his clothes off fast enough, barely taking the time to push her panties to the side. It all happens so fast that MC isn’t able to get her words out fast enough before he’s already pushing his aching cock inside. Any semblance of restraint is gone, he’s like an animal while he ruts into her, whimpering that he’s sorry- he can’t help it. He’s held himself back for so long, now he needs her.

Caleb would be panting desperately by her ear, longing to hold out for longer, but he can feel himself growing closer with each thrust. Everything feels so sensitive, he feels like he’s choking, his eyes growing wet with tears from the sheer stimulation.

It’s takes less than a minute before he coats her insides, his whole body trembling as he releases himself into her. He’d whine, both from the sensation and from his inability to hold out for longer, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over in her ear as his thrusts grow shallower.

MC should really have told him that she isn’t on the pill, but he doesn’t need to know that now. Not yet.

Who would cum fastest: Caleb or Xavier? Personally I think they’d both cum super quickly 🫣

Caleb offering to do your laundry because he’s such a caring big brother. Wondering how many pairs of panties he can steal before you’ll notice. Desperately whining for forgiveness as he stains the lacy fabric with his cum.

It doesn’t help when he sees you wearing that same pair the next day.

Xavier sneaking onto MCs balcony when he hears something going on downstairs. The curtains are pulled most of the way closed, but there’s just enough room to see Caleb eating her out on the couch. Despite the raging jealousy in his heart, Xavier is as hard as a rock.

He covers his mouth as he palms himself through his hunter’s uniform, desperately trying to imagine himself in Caleb’s position. He’s fantasized about tasting her sweetness countless times, once even going as far as to steal her panties she’d left out after getting changed just so he could smell her lingering scent. But nothing could compare to the real thing- he needed her wetness on his tongue, needed to make her scream his name.

The lights flickered. Fuck. He was close.

It’s not enough. He unbuckles his belt as quietly as he can before slipping his boxers down far enough to touch his aching cock. Small whimpers escape his lips as he gazes lustfully at MC’s blissed out expression. She should be moaning his name. Caleb should have stayed dead.

Any coherent thought escapes him as MC arches her back, grabbing a fistful of Caleb’s hair as she finally climaxes. Xavier can barely steady himself on the balcony’s rail in time as he coats his uniform in a fresh layer of white right before everything goes dark.

Caleb’s eyes dart to the window as a flash of bright light fills the room before disappearing, leaving the two surrounded by darkness as the lights blow. No thunder follows, but he swears he hears the balcony door above him slide shut.