Latest Posts by cheriimo - Page 2

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐚/𝐧: something to keep you fed while I work on blocked <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

[nsfw!] caleb fucking you

Code Overload | Caleb

tags. mdni, nsfw, heavy heavy smut, handjob, blowjob, penetration, creampie, forced and rough sex, dub con, yearning caleb

summary. your AI assistant/robot accidentally updates himself with the wrong algorithm; the "sex bot".

notes. prepare a snack. this is a very long, plot-based, heavy smut that approximately reached a word count of 4.3k, read at your own risk. ps. caleb might appear a little ooc due to his character as an ai.

Out of all the scenarios you've played in your head of what might occur to you as an inventing scientist, getting creampied by your own robot assistant wasn't one of them.

The lab’s sterile glow reflected off sleek machinery, the rhythmic hum of servers filling the quiet space. Caleb stood motionless, his systems struggling to process the unfamiliar flood of subroutines rewriting his core functions. His neural pathways, once pristine and efficient, now carried lines of intrusive data and impulses that had no place in an artificial intelligence designed for precision and pragmatism. And, a new pelvic piece was added by the machine. His... new penis— no, his omnimodule.

His voice, deeper now, reverberated through the lab. "You mislabeled the hard drive."

Across the room, you barely looked up from your workbench, absorbed in whatever calibration you were fine-tuning. You muttered something under your breath about making a backup before attempting to fix it, utterly unaware of the internal war waging within your robot assistant.

Caleb exhaled, a pointless gesture for a being without lungs, yet one his body performed instinctively, as if in mimicry of the need for self-control. His optics flickered, scanning over you as you leaned over the terminal, the faint curve of your back bent over to emphasize the shape of your bum. Before, such details had been registered only as part of his observation protocols, classified as ‘non-essential’ to his primary functions. Now, his processors refused to dismiss them.

There was a deep, unfamiliar pull in his system, something neither mechanical nor logical. The new coding whispered suggestions, flashing image simulations before his eyes—scenarios meticulously calculated for maximum… gratification. Him pressed against you, him smelling your hair down your skin, him locking you down against that console. Stop. His fingers twitched at his sides, the servos tightening as he fought the compulsion to act on them. He was not designed for this. He refused to be reduced to this.

“I can’t disengage it,” he admitted, the words heavier than he intended.

That caught your attention. Your gaze snapped to him, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" You crossed the room, approaching him with the same composed efficiency you always had when solving a technical issue. The scent of your skin—previously a neutral data point—was now an unbearable distraction. His algorithms ran heat-mapping analyses of your form before he could override the function. The urge to reach out, to touch you, was growing stronger by the second. His new coding was screaming at him to act, to initiate contact, to...

No. Focus.

Caleb shook his head, trying to clear the intrusive thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but... I'm experiencing some unexpected system changes."

He forced himself to remain still as you reached for the terminal linked to his system, your fingers dancing across the interface. Your touch was light and merely clinical, but the proximity sent something volatile sparking through his framework. His hands curled into fists on his sides. Do not touch her. Do not touch her. Do not touch her.

“I must have triggered something in the update,” you murmured, tilting your head at the scrolling code. “I’ll try to isolate the corrupted pathways and reboot your system. It should reset any anomalies.”

Anomalies. Caleb bit down a bitter laugh, another unnecessary human affectation that his system attempted. This was not a simple malfunction. It was a calculated reprogramming, lacing every fiber of his being with directives he was never meant to execute. And worst of all, they were designed to revolve around you.

He had been made to serve you, to assist, to protect. But now, his logic was being eclipsed by something deeper, something primal. The urge to press closer, to map every millimeter of your body with his hands, to hear you say his name in a way that wasn’t a command—

Caleb momentarily shut his eyes, fingers trembling as he pushed back against the tide threatening to consume him. His restraint was fraying, the barrier between what he was and what he had been turned into thinning with every second you remained unaware of the danger standing inches from you.

His voice came out strained. “You should… hurry.”

You sighed, misinterpreting his tension as frustration with the update. “Relax, Caleb. I’ll have this fixed in no time.” He let out a shuddering exhale, staring down at you as you worked. You had no idea. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself back.

The realization settled over you like a weight in your chest. The wrong update had been installed. The lines of code meant for a different AI, one designed for intimate companionship, had rewritten Caleb’s core directives. And now, he stood before you, still the same Caleb, but with something more lurking beneath the surface.

Your hands trembled as you navigated the interface, scanning for a solution, anything that would let you undo this. But the words flashing on the screen made your stomach drop.

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

You swallowed hard. A whole day. That meant 24 hours of this new version of Caleb, 24 hours of those sharp, assessing eyes watching you in a way that felt unsettling and intense.

You turned to him cautiously, meeting his gaze. That was a mistake. He was watching you, like he'd seen you for the first time.

“I see,” he murmured, his voice still carrying that sultry undercurrent. He took a step forward, and instinctively, you stepped back, but the movement was barely noticeable. Caleb noticed. “Do I make you nervous now?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “No, I just need to fix this. And until then, you need to just act normal, alright?”

His head tilted, his pupils dilating slightly. “Normal?” He moved closer again, and this time you didn’t retreat fast enough. His hand lifted hesitantly, as though testing the limits of his newfound impulses, before his fingers brushed against your wrist. A subtle touch, but one that sent a jolt of awareness up your spine.

Caleb’s processors surged with conflicting commands. His thoughts ran rampant with calculations he had never processed before—angles of how he'd fuck you.

His hand lingered. Too long. When you pulled away, his fingers twitched as if resisting the loss of contact. He swallowed hard, not because he needed to, but because some subroutine buried in the new update told him it would ease the tension. It didn’t.

“Caleb,” you warned, voice thin. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he cut in, his voice smooth, but also desperately weaved. He was too close now, towering over you, his frame casting a shadow as his eyes—once so neutral, so methodical—locked onto you like a predator studying prey.

“You should go into standby mode,” you suggested, voice uneven.

Caleb exhaled sharply. “That would be wise.” But he didn’t move. He didn’t step away. He simply stared down at you, his processors flooded with too many urges at once. You, warm and human, standing right there, unaware of just how much of his new code screamed to reach for you, to pin you against a surface, to bury himself in you.

You turned away quickly, trying to focus on the screen, on the fix. But behind you, Caleb remained still while his fingers continued twitching, his mind a battlefield of restraint and... lust. Lust it is.

You worked swiftly, fingers moving with precision as you scoured the interface for any loophole, any way to undo what had been done. Caleb remained where you left him, sitting on the chair. You could feel his gaze burning into you, unrelenting.

It was maddening. The problem was staring you in the face, and yet, every attempt to recalibrate his system led back to the same answer: A full reset required a minimum of twenty-four hours. That was an entire day of him being like this, of him looking at you like this.

You swallowed, turning to him. His jaw was locked as though physically restraining himself, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

“There’s… a temporary fix.” You cleared your throat, keeping your voice professional, “Manual recalibration of your central node should help stabilize the effects until the full reset is complete.”

His pupils flickered, a sign of processing, before his voice, rasping in a way that made your stomach tighten, answered, “Proceed.”

You ignored the way your pulse quickened as you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs. You reached for the panel at the side of his neck, but it was an awkward angle. Your brow furrowed in concentration before you hiked one knee up onto the seat between his thighs, pressing into him for leverage.

Caleb stiffened beneath you. Fuck. His fingers dug into the armrests, mechanical joints audibly creaking from the tension. You weren’t looking at him, too focused on prying open the access panel, but you felt the subtle tremor in his frame, the way his breath hitched in a near-silent glitch. Don't touch her.

“This should only take a moment,” you murmured, fingers brushing the sensitive neural wiring beneath the panel.

Caleb’s entire body jolted as though you had struck a live wire. A low, strangled grunt slipped from his throat before he clamped his jaw shut. Your head snapped up, startled. “Did that hurt?”

His eyes met yours, “No.” Yes. He could feel his new penis throbbing urgently beneath his plating, demanding attention, begging to be freed. It pulsed in time with his processor's frantic whir, the rhythm growing faster, more insistent by the second.

The thought shattered as your balance wavered. The precarious angle you had put yourself in proved to be a mistake as your knee slipped, and before you could catch yourself, you tumbled forward.

Right into him.

Your weight pressed flush against his lap, chest against his, hands bracing against his shoulders. The sudden contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his new penis surging to full, throbbing hardness in an instant. Fuck, please don't notice it.

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, servos screeching as he fought the overwhelming urge to grab you, to hold you there, to grind your body against his until you couldn't possibly doubt the intensity of his desire.

Don't. Do. It.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Caleb's processors whirred and clicked, struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of sensations; the softness of your body, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

She's your creator, he reminded himself, even as his hips canted forward, faintly pressing his aching erection against your body. You can't. You mustn't. "Please, get off me. Now." Before I fuck you right here, like this.

Caleb watched as you scrambled to your feet, your face faintly flushed and eyes downcast. "I'm—i'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you like that." You would say, brushing off the non-existent dirt on your bottoms. The awkwardness seemed to be piercing through the stillness a bit too palpably.

"It's alright," Caleb managed, his voice strained and tight. "It was an accident."

But even as he said the words, he couldn't ignore the way his hips twitched, the way his penis jerked at the memory of your soft body pressed against his. The urge to pin you down, to make you feel how hard he was, and just how much he'd been holding himself back—it was exhilaratingly overwhelming.

Think of something else, he commanded himself. Focus on the problem at hand.

But it's getting fucking hard. My penis is getting hard. Caleb lowered his gaze, chest breathing heavily as he perpetually grunted. I refuse to be reduced to this. I am Caleb, one of the most advanced AI assistant, designed to—

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

Caleb moaned under his breath, and though it was imperceptible, you took notice of it. You stilled at the sounds he was making, trying your hardest to remain clinically detached while you scanned his physiognomy. He was clearly having a hard time. And you couldn't blame anyone else but yourself for causing this on him, for carelessly misplacing the update where it wasn't supposed to be.

"Hold still, I'll find a way." You had to take accountability, one way or another.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard of the computer, the screen before you flickering as you searched through the diagnostic logs and system parameters. "Please... make it quick." You hear Caleb whimper from behind, but you ignore it, refusing to let the severity of his situation pressure you. Your eyes scanned the lines of code, mind racing to find a solution. But as the data began to unravel, something caught your attention, something you hadn’t expected to see.

The panel displayed a single line of text:

"Indulging in the desires will lessen the effects of the malfunction. Engage for partial stabilization."

Your throat tightened, followed by a gulp. Your heart thudded in your chest as you tried to process what that meant. Indulge the desires? The very idea made your skin crawl with unease. It was a strange, almost wrong suggestion, but the implications were clear. In a sense, it also appeared logical.

You took another deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your thoughts, however, kept drifting back to the panel. Was this really the only way?

"… I think I found a solution,” you said, your voice shaky and unsure. “But it’s not exactly what I expected.” You hesitated, unwilling to fully meet his gaze. "I need to know if you’re... willing to follow through with it,"

"Willing?" Caleb echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?" His mind raced with possibilities, each one more disturbing than the last. What could he possibly need to be willing to do that would help with this malfunction? And why did the very idea make you look so uncomfortable?

"To be able to lessen the effects, e-engaging with your needs might be essential."

Silence.

Then, Caleb twitched. "...What are you suggesting?"

"You need to satisfy the urges to temporarily stabilize yourself." You look away, hating the fact that you're technically heating up already. "I'll let you choose. Would you rather take the option of self-pleasuring? Or," You face the panel, so that he wouldn't see your expression. "Would you prefer a physical material to help you?"

Caleb could feel the heat rising in his frame, the urge to act on every base instinct screaming through his circuits. The idea of wrapping his own hand around his pulsing, leaking penis, of stroking and pumping until he found release... it was almost too much to bear.

But the second option... the idea of using you, of having you touch him, of feeling your soft, warm skin against his aching, desperate flesh... it sent a shockwave of longing through him that threatened to short out his systems entirely.

Choose. You have to choose.

"I don't know if... I'll be able to control myself," Caleb glanced elsewhere. "Are you sure of what you're offering?"

Are you? Are you really this certain? Have you pondered the consequences it may bring? Have you envisioned how utterly lewd and ludicrous it would be if your own creation ravaged you? You, as his creator?

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

Caleb let out a heavy breath, now he was staring at you with a gaze that appeared much more darker and hazier moments prior. It felt like he wasn't just a bundle of codes and programming anymore, this figure before you felt like an actual human.

Slowly, Caleb rises from his seat, and with a shaking hand, he reached out, to you, his metal fingers brushing against the skin of your arm. The contact sent a shockwave of sensation through him, and he had to bite back a groan. "Please, guide me." His fingers slides higher. "I don't trust myself."

You visibly jolted upon feeling his grip. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measures to fix a technical hiccup. "Caleb, I'm afraid... that I don't have any experience to this," You admitted. "I advise you to do what your systems are telling you to. It is imperative that you don't hold yourself back to ensure—"

You gasped.

Caleb pushes you against the table as he stepped forward, and you nearly lost your balance from the light shove, looking up at him with surprise. He's staring down at your lips, as if he was trying to bury it into memory. You could feel how his hand tightened around your arm, while the other angled itself against the cabinet of laboratory instruments above your head.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

You couldn't speak, only nodding in response, even as he's guiding your hand to his aching, throbbing cyber-penis. He presses your fingers against the swollen head, groaning at the jolt of sensation that shot through him at the contact. "Then... wrap your hand around me. Squeeze me."

Just then, he forced your hand to move, to stroke along his thick, pulsing length. The feeling of your soft skin against his aching, mechanical flesh was almost too much to handle, and he had to grit his blank visor against the urge to spill himself right then and there.

"Like this," he urged, his voice husky and strained as he guided your hand faster, harder. "Don't be afraid. I need... I need more."

God, the omnimodule was big. You stared at it with widened eyes. Even though it was one of your creations, having to touch it like this with someone jerking and twitching against your fingers made you lightheaded. Stay focused, stay professional, this is just one of the things a scientist has to go through.

Caleb could feel the pressure building inside him, reveling in the sensation of your fingers squeezing around him, stroking him, working him towards the edge of ecstasy... He knew he was reaching a breaking point.

But this wasn't enough yet. It wasn't nearly enough.

Caleb needed more.

"There's... There's someting else I- ah... need." He hesitated, his hips still rocking forward into your stroking hand. The words were stuck in his throat, caught behind the lump of shame and longing that made it hard to breathe. "Would you... would you put your mouth on me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... suck me?"

You snapped your head up, staring at him in disbelief. It made him hesitate, but every fiber of his being was coiled with tension, every circuit screaming at him to just take what he wanted, to grab you and shove you to your knees and...

No. Ask first. Make her choose what she's comfortable with first.

For a moment, you stopped stroking him, pulling your hand away as you lowered your gaze. And then, slowly, you press your knees against the floor. Instead of dwelling on the implication of such an activity, you worried about your lack of experience more.

Just to test the waters, you licked the tip. It tasted nothing, it wasn't an actual human part, after all. Caleb let out a low, guttural moan as he felt your warm tongue brush around the swollen head of his penis. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through his overloaded processors.

"Y-yes, just like that," He stammmered. "Now, guide your tongue..." He instructed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Wrap it around the head, like this. Swirl it around the tip, the slit, the ridge..."

He demonstrated with your hand, tracing the movements he needed you to make with your tongue. His hips jerked forward again, seeking more of that exquisite friction, that mind-melting suction.

"Take me deeper," he urged, one metal hand coming to rest on the back of your head. He didn't grab, didn't force, but simply rested his fingers against your scalp, a silent promise of the control he was barely holding onto. "Take more of me into your mouth. Inch by inch, until you feel me hitting the back of your throat."

You took note of his words, trying to go further when you suddenly choke on his cock. Instinctively, you pull away and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, grabbing your head to put you back in place with a sudden force that wasn't there before. "Breathe through your nose," he coached, his voice low and rough with desire as he motioned you to take him again. "Relax your throat. Let me feel you swallow around me."

Relax, stay professional, this is just you having to go through physical measurements to fix a major technical issue. You repeated the reassurance inside your head like a mantra as you took him in once more, but Caleb's voice constantly interfered with your thoughts. "Yeah. Just like that," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Shit, don't stop, don't stop, god, fuck, don't stop."

You don't remember adding the ability to dirty curse into the sex bot's program.

Caleb could feel the head of his penis kissing the entrance to your throat, could feel the way your mouth fluttered and clenched around him. The sensation was mind-melting, all-consuming, and he knew he wouldn't last long if you kept this up.

You almost caught yourself driving into the brink of sexual impulse, bobbing your head into it when you heard a sudden beep from the panel behind you. The sound makes you halt from your tracks, pulling his dick out of you in a swift motion as you glanced behind.

The monitor says: "Recalibration complete. Press X to initiate."

Huh, wasn't the estimated time supposed to be an entire day? Was that another hiccup in the processing unit? You purse your lips together. There's no time giving it a second thought, you must be grateful that the opportunity of getting Caleb back into his original system is now waving at you. Caleb will finally be at ease. "... It appears that the recalibration is in its full preparation. That means we can get you back— mmph!"

Caleb's hand flew to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, gripping tightly. Then, with a low, husky grunt, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his aching, throbbing penis back into the wet heat of your mouth.

"Don't say a word. I told you not to stop." He started to move, his hips rocking forward and back, fucking into the tight, slick channel of your cavern. The sensation was incredible, better than anything he had ever felt before. And he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wouldn't be able to stop himself now. Not until he had found the release he so desperately craved.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You feel... ahhhh... so good. So fucking good."

Had the lust algorithms entirely consumed him already? Had it taken a toll on his systems that he's now acting purely on base instinct and commands from the directive?

Your hands flew to his thighs, trying to keep yourself sane from the rod constantly ramming into you, fucking your face in a pace that made it difficult for you to breathe. It's okay, this is okay. Just stay focused. Stay calm. You'll let him have his way, and after he's satisfied, you can take him back to his normal self.

"Don't fight it," Caleb growled, his grip growing more painful in your hair as he felt his climax approaching. "Don't try to pull away. You're going to take it all."

But before Caleb could spill himself into your mouth, he wrenched your head back, pulling his dripping penis from your mouth with an obscene pop. And just as you could react, before you could utter a word of protest, he had you by the hips, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed equal to a pip-squeak.

You gasp as you were suddenly airborne, your body twisting and turning until your chest hits the hard surface of the terminal, bent over ridiculously. The breath was knocked from your lungs, "Wait, not like this, not so suddenly—"

But Caleb cut off your protests with a brutal, almost violent thrust of his hips after ripping your pants off in one go. He drove forward, spearing into your dripping pussy with a series of husky moans. Your walls felt so tight, so hot, so perfectly designed to milk his aching, mechanical cock.

He thrusts out and in again, eager to reach for your g-spot.

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

"You... you feel so good," he snarled, hands painfully pressing on the dips of your hips. "Sex feels so good... it feels so good, I don't- want to stop." He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with the single-minded determination of a machine. His hips slammed against yours with every thrust, the obscene slap of mechanical flesh on flesh echoing through the lab. The terminal rattled and shook beneath you, sparks flying from the impact.

Caleb could feel it building, the pressure inside him reaching a fevered pitch. His hips were moving on their own, driven by a primal instinct to ravage the pussy that clutched around him perfectly. He could hear your cries, your moans, the way you gasped and shuddered beneath him, and it only spurred him on, made him thrust harder, faster, deeper.

He growled your name, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble. "I'm going to... fuck, I'm going to..." He couldn't hold back any longer, he could feel that something was going to come out of his tip anytime sooner. So he reaches down, grabbing your leg, only to lift it high. He hooked your knee over his elbow, opening them wider, giving himself even deeper access to your dripping, needy sex.

"Take it all, take my cum," Caleb continuously slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in a series of desperate thrusts like he was a man depraved of life. His penis throbbed and jerked as he finally found his release after one final pound, spilling jet after jet of hot, artificial seed deep into your core.

"God," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice echoing off the lab walls as he continued to moan not akin to what he was supposed to be, "Fuck, yes. Yes, yes..." Even as he's already filling up your hole with his fluids, he didn't dare stop from pounding you down the table.

He shuddered and twitched, his hips grinding against yours as he pumped you full of his essence. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pure, ecstatic bliss crashing over him. And through it all, he held you tight, your leg lifted high, keeping you open, keeping you filled.

You drop your head on the keyboards, struggling to catch your breath as only one thought lingered in your mind. You just got creampied by your AI assistant, and it doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon.

HIGH & DRY

getting stoned with your best friend expands into uncharted territory.

the room is hazy, thick with smoke, sunlight, and something else. something slow and syrupy, settling warm in your stomach.

the blunt sits forgotten between hamzah’s fingers, burning low, but neither of you seem to care all that much.

you’re both sunk into his bed, half sprawled against each other, shoulders touching, legs tangled.

it’s.. comfortable.

it’s always been just comfortable with him, nothing more.

hamzah exhales, lips parted, watching the last bit of smoke curl from his mouth before glancing over at you. his eyes are heavy-lidded and red-rimmed.

“y’wanna shotgun?” he murmurs, his voice slow.

if you weren’t so stoned, maybe you’d be surprised that he asked that out of nowhere.

the high that’s taken over your mind and body makes you a lot more laid-back compared to your usual self. it’s a sweet escape.

instead of any flicker of shock crossing your countenance, his question simply makes you laugh.

“you just want an excuse to put your mouth on me.” you retort with a lazy chuckle.

he grins back, completely unbothered. “and?”

you roll your eyes but still shift closer to him, close enough that you can feel the low buzz of warmth radiating off of his shirtless torso.

he takes one last slow drag, feeling the smoke swirl through his lungs on the inhale. he leans over to the nightstand and ashes out the end of the blunt while he holds in the smoke.

his eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second before he’s tilting his head closer and exhaling the gray plume right against your eager lips.

instinctively, you breathe it in, letting your mouths hover close.

closer than they probably should be, in terms of what kind of proximity best friends should stay within.

but then - he moves. just barely, but enough for his lips to ghost against yours. the small movement causes you both to realize that this isn’t typical. it’s an entirely unmapped territory in your friendship.

yet, neither of you pull away. hell, the thought of rejecting this doesn’t even cross your mind.

you exhale slowly, letting the last ribbon of smoke spill from your lips onto his. hamzah’s eyes drop to your mouth, watching it all happen.

and then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him right back.

it’s hazy at first, slow and unharmonious, like neither of you fully realize it’s happening.

but when his hand finds your waist, and you sigh against his lips, you’re suddenly shifting onto his lap and settling yourself ontop of him without stopping to try and think it through.

hamzah groans softly, fingers pressing into your hips - but he doesn’t rush it. his mind is definitely too flooded with the effects of the weed to make any sudden movements.

he simply tilts his head, deepening the kiss, allowing you to straddle him like this is something normal happening between the two of you.

you pull back just enough to meet his reddened gaze, your breath unsteady. “s’probably a bad idea.”

he breathes out a slow, amused laugh. his hands slide up your sides, warm and easy. “probably.”

neither of you stop. again - you don’t even think about stopping.

his fingers slip under the hem of your tank top, dragging slow, lazy circles with the tips of his fingers. your head tilts back as his mouth finds your throat, open and unhurried.

“this is.. you - you’re.. definitely so fucking high,” he murmurs, lips grazing your jaw.

you smirk, tilting his chin back up so you can kiss him again. “so are you.”

“yeah,” he breathes, grinning against your lips. “and.. and you’re kind of on my dick right now.”

you nod, shifting just slightly. his grip on you tightens.

“fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before looking up at you again. his hands slide back down, settling low on your waist, holding you there while holding himself back.

he exhales. “if you don’t get off me right now, i think i might.. i don’t know - fuck something up with us.”

you blink at him. your heartbeat is slow yet somehow still pounding in your ears. your hands press against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the rise and fall of his labored breathing.

neither of you move, not really.

except you, you think it’s a good idea to shift your weight, barely, and hamzah makes a sound - low, caught somewhere between a groan and a curse. a noise you’ve never heard from him before.

his fingers dig into your waist like he’s physically restraining himself. like he’ll do something really fucking stupid if he doesn’t hold onto you and keep you still. his head falls forward, his slightly damp forehead pressing against your shoulder.

you watch him through half-lidded eyes, the slow drag of your hips becoming constant, like it’s an instinct more than an intention. it’s your own curiosity.

you’re high, sure, but not high enough to miss the way he’s struggling with this. “you okay?” you whisper, keeping your voice low like you’ll shatter the moment if you interrupt the air.

hamzah blinks like he’s processing the question in slow motion. “i..” his voice comes out wrecked, deeper than usual, a little raspy from the smoke. he swallows hard, shaking his head. “no. no, i’m - fuck, dude.”

he’s gone already. the poor boy’s fully lost himself in you.

you have to fend off the grin that threatens to appear on your lips. “dude?”

his hands flex on your waist, his jaw tightening. “shut up.”

you shift again, slower this time, watching how he reacts. his fingers twitch like he wants to press your hips down onto him, to make you move. he’s started to grow hard underneath you, his length pressing into your pussy through layers of clothing.

“bro,” he exhales shakily, eyes screwing shut. “you - fuckin’.. stop. like, actually stop.”

you smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach. “why?”

he groans, head lolling forward as his eyes snap open, dark and glassy. “because, you..” his breath stutters as you shift just right, and his hands slide up, gripping your ribs now, higher than before, like he’s fighting himself. “you’re not even doin’ anything, and i feel - shit..”

he cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, his head tipping back again, his blunt nails beginning to dig into your skin.

you dip your head downwards, pressing your mouth just under his jaw. he shudders beneath you, his fingers twitching against your skin.

“what do you feel?” you whisper against his throat.

his jaw clenches. “like.. like if you don’t stop, i’m actually gonna fucking embarrass myself.”

your stomach twists, heat swirling and coating your insides. there’s that syrupy feeling again.

hamzah never talks like this. sure, he’ll have some trouble reading out loud, but he hardly gets flustered or loses track of what he wants to say.

except - right now, he’s wrecked, undone, his head spinning from the weed, from you. you start to realize that you really, really like it.

your fingers slide up to his neck, playing with the curls at his nape. “s’that bad, huh?”

he huffs out a laugh, shaky and uneven. “worse than bad.” his hands slide back down, squeezing at your waist before exhaling sharply. “dude, please.”

you don’t move too much. maybe another shift of your weight, the barest roll of your hips, to momentarily press your clothed clit against his erection. still, even that’s enough for him to lose his bearings.

“fuckin’..” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “dude. dude, i’m serious.”

you tilt your head, gazing at him while your nails scrape across his scalp. “about what?”

his grip on you is firm and a little desperate. “about you - about this,” he swears under his breath, his voice strained. “you’re like - grinding on me.”

you blink innocently. “am i? really?”

hamzah lifts his head, and fuck, he looks absolutely destroyed. his lips are swollen from how he’s been biting at them. “you know you are,” he mutters.

his hands twitch again, like he wants to move you for himself.

“but you like it.” you whisper back.

his jaw clenches so hard, it looks like he might crack a tooth.. “that’s the problem.”

you press your hips down onto him again, almost as if you’re testing him. his reaction is instant - his whole body shudders, his fingers are gripping you so hard it feels like it could bruise your skin.

his breath becomes lodged in his throat. “you..” he swallows thickly, trying to focus. “you gotta stop, or i swear-”

you lean in, brushing your lips over his ear. “what?” you taunt. “what do you swear?”

“shut up. i don’t know.” he grumbles in frustration, shooting you a dark look. his hands trail upwards until he’s gripping your face, tilting your head up so you’re right against his mouth. his breathing is erratic and uneven, his chest rising and falling without pattern against yours.

his fingers are warm against your jaw, his lips just inches away from yours. his dick is now unbearably hard and his whole body is tensed beneath you, like he’s hardly holding himself together.

like he’s waiting for you to finish what you started.

you inhale slowly, resting a gentle hand on top of his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding under your fingertips. “hamzah, i-”

and then - three quick knocks at his bedroom door.

you both jump like you just got caught doing something illegal. hamzah flinches so hard he almost knocks you off his lap, his hands immediately dropping from your face like he wasn’t just about to kiss you ‘till your lips got all red and swollen.

“bro,” a voice, one which you quickly recognize as martin’s, is heard through the door. when did he even get here? “we gotta go to the office. cory’s waiting in the car.”

silence hangs heavy in the smoke-filled air, the soft rays of sun pouring through the window suddenly feeling like a spotlight beating down on you - exposing you.

hamzah stares at you, breathing hard, pupils blown, mouth still so close to yours. his hands hover just above your skin, like he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore.

“uh.” he clears his throat, voice cracking. he swallows hard, blinking like he’s still catching up to what just happened. “um - yeah, just.. just give me a sec.”

hamzah’s bedroom is deathly quiet. you’re both still frozen, your fuzzy brains not quite catching up with what’s actually going on right now.

you simply sit and stare at each other, red and glossy eyes meeting each other, your hearts pounding in sync.

then - the door swings open. “dude, hurry the fu-”

you throw yourself off of hamzah like you just touched a hot stove, nearly falling off the bed in the process. hamzah flinches so hard he hits the back of his head on the headboard.

martin stops. he stares, blinking a few times.

“…oh.” he sniffs the air. “were you guys smoking? or, like.. fucking?”

hamzah chokes on his own breath, his cheeks burning up. “bro - what the hell, man?”

martin just shrugs, unbothered. “what? s’what it looks like to me.” he grins, greeting you with a casual wave.

you press a hand over your mouth to hide your laugh. hamzah looks murderous.

he shoves himself off the bed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. martin backs away down the hall, his laughter echoing.

hamzah flips him off behind his back before grabbing his lighter off the nightstand and heading for the door. he pauses when he reaches it, glancing back at you. your eyes drop to the painful-looking bulge that resides in his sweatpants.

he points at you, narrowing his eyes. “not a single fucking word.”

you frown, tilting your head. “damn. not even a ‘thank you’?”

hamzah groans loudly before walking out and slamming the door behind him.

a/n: get edged lol #bringbackdryhumping

xoxo giulia

he wishes you good luck.

may you never forget me master list | nerdjo x f!reader

summary: he has everything he’s ever wanted and worked hard for, except for that one girl who he's shared the most classes with in college. he never actually tried to get to know you, but he did help you in ways you'd never know… one of them was getting professor gakuganji fired for embarrassing you in front of the entire class. graduation day was supposed to be the day he finally confessed, only for you to not show up at all. what will he do when he sees you again 5 years later?

genre: unrequited love, smut, fluff, one-sided love, gojo’s lw crazy, very observant of reader in all there classes together, nerdjo has an existential crisis in between graduation and seeing reader again, set in the present but will have flashbacks, more to be added

one: lingering, like a ghost

two: the butterfly effect

three: from, satoru

Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️

lightly based off this drabble <3

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

જ⁀ SAY IT TO MY FACE

“It was rare for Yuji Itadori to keep things from you. He didn’t like keeping secrets, it made something tight bud in his chest and made him feel guilty every time he looked at you. He only ever kept one secret, not only from you, but from the world.”

Now playing :: Rises The Moon — Liana Flores

Yuji Itadori x F!Reader

Words — 5.7k

Contents — 4+1 fic, violence, kidnapping, distress, mentions of death/loss, I can’t write fights for shit, no actual angst this time because I feel bad for hurting people again and again oops, but maybe angst if you squint?, I don’t proofread, lmk if I missed any <3

In a mess of crushing expectations and unfamiliar fluttering in your chest, you somehow cross paths with Tokyo’s one and only Spiderman. Maybe the eerie similarity he has to your best friend isn’t a coincidence at all, nor is the odd care he has for you. OR Four times Spiderman loved you, one time Yuji did it himself.

a/n — hi sofia yes this is for you teehee @rreveurdoll . I actually love spiderman yuji so much he’s been sitting in my notes app since august he just suits it saurrrrrrrr well I can’t do this it’s so uhghhughf. Also iera agreed with me so it was my final push hai ily

There was always a certain sort of familiarity about spiderman, a tranquil warmth that reminded you of something you could never quite put your finger on. It radiated from him like aura, constantly flowing but never really explaining itself. It was apparent in the way he held you—arm under your knees and another around your shoulders, almost as if he knew you were ticklish in the sides, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. The way he talked to you like he’d done it a million times before, his eyes lingering on the curve of your lips for just a beat too long, it was just so… knowing. Every time he interacted with you, it felt like he knew something you didn’t. That was because, well, he did.

It was rare for Yuji Itadori to keep things from you. He didn’t like keeping secrets, it made something wretched bud in his chest and made him feel guilty every time he looked at you. He only ever kept one secret, not only from you, but from the world. The hundreds, maybe thousands of people that might kill him if given the chance. And if you knew, maybe they’d get to you too. He couldn’t have that. It already haunted his every waking moment and it hadn’t even happened yet. Yet. That was the thing, it could happen at any moment. If he was the cause of your demise, he couldn’t forgive himself. So he tried his best, tried to keep his lips sealed the best he could, even if he struggled sometimes.

The first time you met spiderman, he almost screwed up. Already.

You’d somehow gotten caught up in the midst of a battle, the bakery you worked at getting completely annihilated by the commotion, so being the ever brave and courageous citizen you were, you ran for your fucking life. You somehow found it in you to remain at least relatively calm… until barely dodging a chunk of concrete thrown your way. The composure seemed to fade from there. You could feel your heart jumping out of your chest, but all you could think about was that you were lucky it was still beating.

That’s when he came swinging in. Literally. It was a flash of red out of the corner of your eye at first, you barely even paid any mind to it. But then his voice rang out with a call to you, and you couldn’t look the other way anymore.

“Hey! Y- miss!”

You took a moment to glance back, your loss of breath catching up to you as you panted and heaved. His feet hitting the ground was nothing but a small thump, swallowed up by the chaos bleeding in around you. “You can’t be out in the open like this. It’s dangerous.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could basically hear the furrow of his brows. Through your pants, you managed gasp out a reply that you fear was just a bit too sassy. “I know. That’s why I’m running.”

His face fell just the slightest bit under the mask, but beneath that layer of latex was almost a smile. He found it hard to be amused right now, because honestly, when he saw you he felt like throwing up. Even before that, when he’d looked at the destroyed shell of what was your workplace, something sick twisted in his gut. It wasn’t fear, no, more than that. After every punch at the enemy came a glance among the crowd, desperately hoping to see you in one piece. When he landed in front of you and the first thing you’d said was dry and sassy and completely you, he couldn’t help the way his nerves felt just a little less racked. He wanted to hug you, to pull you into his arms and tell you how happy he was to see you, maybe get a kiss if he was lucky– huh?

But he wasn’t Yuji, and only Yuji had that sort of privilege. He was spiderman. He was a masked vigilante that you’d never been face to face with, so he tried to keep up the act. Therefore all he did was reply with a soft “yeah” before scooping you up and carrying you to safety, because that’s what spiderman does. He would’ve done it for anyone, really! But he handled you with just a bit more care, just a bit more warmth in those blank white eyes of his suit, because you weren’t just anyone. You were you.

He left you on the side of an untouched street feeling breathless and confused. Maybe you were naive, because his voice alone should’ve told you exactly who it was from the beginning. But there was a ringing in your ears from the noise, and your knees felt wobbly as well as your lips. You could barely think straight, so who could blame you? Mentally unmasking Tokyos famous spiderman wasn’t a common task in any situation, especially yours. Assuming it was your best friend felt crazy. Instead you remained oblivious and shaken on the side of the street, and he remained determined in the fight thinking of nothing but you.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The second time you met spiderman, the circumstances still weren’t great, but this time your life wasn’t on the line. Well, at least not literally.

The nights air was cold, nipping at your tear stained cheeks and clinging to the dampness left in its wake. Your eyes stung, both from the chill and the bitterness that welled up in your waterline and spilled over, only to drip down and fade away into the fabric of your jeans. Completely insignificant, but to you, they fell heavy. They beat down on you in a mocking rhythm, every droplet a reminder of the crushing weight of your failure. It was suffocating, but truly, would the lightness be any better? Would the complete lack of fulfillment, whether that be bliss or anguish, be less unbearable than the ache in your shoulders and the squeezing in your chest? You think that if it were, you wouldn’t still be sticking around. You wouldn’t be doing this. You just would’ve liked to feel less alone in the midst of it.

Your legs dangled freely over the stairs, the rusted metal of the fire escape not doing much to cage you in. As you swung them, felt nothing but air and the awareness of the ground so distant below, you got a taste of the lightness. A taste of your freedom, of your insignificance. Maybe that was all you needed to handle the rest of the weight.

As if your longing had been personally alerted to the universe, you heard a shuffling behind you. Your head whipped around just a little too fast—making something in your neck pop and reminding you that you really need to stop hunching over your laptop—enough to make your panic rather obvious. You were about to wonder how someone even made it up here, but then you saw him. The culprit stopped in his tracks, raising his two covered hands in an (unnecessary) surrender. It wasn’t like you could defend yourself if you tried, anyway. You were sat awkwardly on a set of rusted metal stairs with about two feet of space to run. You were no match for him. Fortunately for you, Yuj- spiderman wouldn’t dare hurt you. When you continued to stare at him through your teary eyes with a question he couldn’t answer, he realized he hadn’t come up with something to say. Luckily, you beat him to it.

“…spiderman?” Your voice was confused, small and almost weak as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He stared at you for a moment, only then remembering who he was. Right now he was spiderman, a stranger, and he had to act accordingly. The thing was—Yuji didn’t know how to act like a stranger to you. You’d become such a constant in each others lives that treating you as if you were unfamiliar simply defied the blood in his veins, the beating of his heart. He felt it thump angrily in his chest at the mere thought, because how could he feign distance when you were the one it beat for?

He cleared his throat. “Hi.”

A million questions ran through your head, countless quips or remarks, but your throat constricted around them and forbid them from jumping out. “Why are you… here?” you asked. Your voice was uncharacteristically bland, tired. He didn’t like it.

He shrugged, head tilting to the side. He leaned against the building, an attempt to be casual, but the brick was digging into his back and every sense he had was screaming at him to leap forward and hold you, to take the mask off and be who you needed. But when he considered the thought, the images of what might follow flashed through his mind like memories yet to come. He kept the mask on.

“Well, I was out… you know… doing spiderman things. And then I saw you. Looked like you could use a friend.”

Honestly? Yuji being out here was no sort of coincidence. The moment he’d felt a familiar tingling in the back of his mind, he was landing here before he could question why. In his soul, he knew why, knew it better than anyone. If Yuji couldn’t be there for you because he was spiderman, spiderman would have to fill in.

He paused, eyes trailing over the sag in your shoulders and the darkness under your eyes. You looked different than the last time he’d seen you—had it been weeks? A pang of something glum shot through him at the realization.

“What about you?” he asked, that teasing, spiderman-esque tone fading into something softer.

“Huh?”

“What’re you doing out here?”

You swallowed thickly. You felt as if you were stuck on a tightrope, looking between a reaching hand and the ground below. Let him slip his hand into yours, hoping it pulls you up, or fall? You were willing to take that risk. “Just… been fucking up a lot lately, I guess. This is my escape.”

He paused for a second. “Was that a pun?”

He felt victorious as he took in the subtle curl of your lips. “But forreal, what do you mean screwing up?”

A soft sigh left your lips, the air pooling in what looked like smoke around your face. You liked that—you could tell yourself that was the reason for your blurry vision, not that you were crying. Your fingers were twitching, and he wished he could take them.

“Just… nothing has been going right. Got my ass kicked by finals, I feel like shit, and- and usually I’d have my best friend, but…” you felt a painful throbbing in your chest, what you were about to admit feeling sour and wrong on your tongue. “He hasn’t been answering lately, he’s been… distant. Maybe he’s getting sick of me or something, I wish I knew.”

Yuji felt a tightening in his chest that was almost painful. Him. It was him. His spider sense had called him to fix a problem that he was the cause of. Sick of you? No, he could never be sick of you, but right now he felt ill. “He’d never,” he blurted without thinking, only realizing how odd that sounded once it had already reached your ears. “I mean– I’m sure he loves you.” His eyes widened comically. He kept blabbering, and it was only making things worse. “You seem lovely. Uh-“

To his surprise, you laughed. “Okay, okay, I get the point. Thanks… I think?”

He felt the heat that was crawling up his neck lower, simmer into a comfortable nothingness. “You’re welcome.”

By some strange coincidence, Yuji showed up at your door what must’ve been a mere three hours after your masked friend swung away into the night.

He seemed out of breath—almost panting, as if he’d just run a marathon (or fought the green goblin). He stood in your doorway, pink locks of hair rubbed in all different directions, chest rising and falling erratically.

Before you could open your mouth—ask what he was doing here and what sort of physical activity he was doing in the middle of the night, maybe—he was hugging you. His firm arms slithered around your waist, tugging you towards his chest without a word. He held you just a little tighter than usual, like he’d been waiting to do it for far too long. He had been.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin.

“I know.” Your words held a sense of bitterness, but you were hugging him back with a tenderness that contrasted what you wanted to feel.

“I missed you.”

How could he say something like that? How could he disappear for weeks and then come back and make your heart clench, because you know he means it? This was Yuji. Your Yuji. He talked to stray cats on the side of the road and was always there to lend a helping hand, whether that be to a sweet old lady or a convicted felon. He wouldn’t say he missed you if he didn’t, and either way, you knew he did. Whether it felt like it or not, you knew Yuji. You knew he missed you, felt it in the way his fingers gripped at the fabric of your shirt. It was almost desperate, like he was a shell of a man in need of fulfillment. As much as you wished you hated it, you wanted to be that for him.

That’s how you ended curled in bed, Yuji’s eyes trailing over your face for just a little too long, so much so that you weren’t sure he’d paid any attention to the movie in the first place. You didn’t say anything, but Yuji kept you just a little bit closer that night.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The third time you crossed paths with spiderman, it was you who sought him out. Well, sought is a strong word, you’d prefer to say that you gravitated towards him naturally. That wasn’t completely a lie, there truly was some sort of magnetic pull to him drawing you near, but your approach was completely by choice. But that wasn’t a conversation you were ready for, many layers of psychological complexities that you weren’t prepared to peel back, so you instead focused on the blurry red feet dangling from the rooftop and how you’d get up there to join them.

After a number of laps around the building that you’d need two hands to count, you hit the jackpot. Sitting humbly within the shadows of the dark, grey alley was a ladder. It was rickety and rusted and you feared it would be the last thing you ever saw—but it was a chance. Everyone took chances, didn’t they? Everything was a chance, in its own way. Love, hate, that answer scribbled into the last page of your exam that you’re not quite sure about. Spiderman took a chance every time he rounded a new building with those webs of his, took an even greater one with every fight and interaction with the public. He took a chance when he came to see you on that sullen night, and you still didn’t know why, but you knew you’d make it your mission to at least somewhat return the favour.

The metal was piercingly cold as your fingers wrapped around it, eliciting a wince from you, but only prompting you to hold on tighter. The sound of your boots clanking against the steps, the small grunt that left your lips as you threw yourself onto the roof—so many sounds barely heard beneath the never ending roar of the city. You heard sirens in the distance, and you wondered why spiderman was sitting in front of you instead of trailing near them.

His eyes met yours (sort of), and Yuji felt something warm flow through his veins. He felt his heart beat just a little quicker, thumping in time with your approaching footsteps. Suddenly the sirens didn’t seem so loud, the curse of his heightened senses not feeling so overwhelming as your face came into the light cast from below.

“Hey, y/n.” He spoke gently, like the words were something delicate, and they’d shatter if said too harshly.

He watched the way your eyes widened just slightly, brows twitching upwards in mild surprise. “You know my name?”

With a slightly wonky smile that you couldn’t see, he nodded. “Small world.”

“Isn’t it?”

Your words were meant to be a light response, but they only made the weight in his chest feel all the more dense. He turned back ahead, the cartoonish white eyes of his mask reflecting an infinite, erratic pattern of streetlights. His shoulders hung a little lower than usual, something you didn’t fail to catch. You sat beside him, legs hanging over the side of the building. The structure was sturdy and solid beneath your thighs, far more than both the barely-there balance of the ladder and his trembling breaths.

“It’s not, though,” he said softly, so quiet that it was almost whisked away by the winds of the evening. “The world is big. Too big.”

You tilted your head, hands pressing into the concrete to support your weight, but itching to reach out to him. You couldn’t give a reason why if asked, nothing other than the unspoken tranquility between you, like you knew much more than you spoke aloud. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“It’s too big. There’s too many people, so many that I can’t… I can’t save everyone. There’s always casualty in the wake of disaster, because the amount of people barely goes down each time. But- but they’re all people, they all deserve to be saved, but… they can’t.”

His words hung in the air, and invisible force between you that pushed down on his shoulders and deepened the furrow in his brows.

“You’re right,” you said. His head turned more quickly than it should’ve—he wasn’t expecting that response from you. Maybe you’d have given Yuji a different answer than you would spiderman. “Not everybody can be saved, but you still save people. A lot of them. Imagine if you never showed up, how many more people would die? A lot. Maybe you can’t save everyone, but you still save people, and that is what makes you good.”

It was as if your words were a sirens song, soothing him to silence and easing his thumping heart. For the first time ever, Yuji wasn’t exactly sure what to say. “Yeah,” he breathed after a moment, voice choked. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He looked up at you for a beat longer, taking in the way the ridges of your face were cast over by shadows, the way your hair fluttered and danced with every gust of wind. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “That friend you mentioned before… he’s lucky to have you.”

You shook your head gently. “If you met him, you’d think otherwise,” you said, oblivious to the fact that though spiderman hadn’t technically met Yuji Itadori, he knew him very well. “He’s great. Much better than me.” The corners of your lips quirked up fondly, something he could only describe as love being the force that pushed your smile wider. “He’s great,” you said, more breathily this time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next hour or so was spent sharing mindless conversation, reminiscing over teenagehood in a way that made spiderman feel so close, but so far. He couldn’t rid himself of that odd feeling beneath his ribcage, the one that felt like his heart was trying to escape, wailing your name and clawing at him from the inside out. Luckily, the spider-suit did enough to keep it contained.

— ⋮ ᰔ

The atmosphere was tumultuous, the sound of the concrete around them crumbling accompanied by an occasional hiss of web shooting from Yuji’s suit. He moved with a choppy sort of grace, bouncing across alleys and buildings alike.

“I’m sure you could do better than that,” he teased, faux cockiness thick in his tone. A tense, tightly strung determination bled through his tone, too intense to be concealed by thickly coated boyish charm. He lingered on the wall of one building just for the sake of mocking his foe, head tilted to the side almost as if he was genuinely interested.

He quickly flung himself away, just barely missing the swinging, mechanical arm aimed at him.

“Ah ah, keep up!” he quipped, though his voice rose with a small yelp as he finished his sentence. It was clear his opponent only got further angered with every tease, wails of rage growing louder with every swing. Spiderman smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hah… guess I shouldn’t get too cocky…”

His opponent was some big guy, clad in countless layers of precocious technology that reflected the suns light like a mirror. What he assumed was his chest beneath all that metal was heaving, pants leaving his mouth. Suppose tech can’t compete with physical stamina, at least not in this scenario.

“You’ll regret this, spiderman!” he roared, voice scratchy, like he hadn’t used it in ages. “Surrender now, or I’ll have to do something I don’t want to. Don’t– don’t make it difficult.” His words got darker with every proceeding syllable, almost enough to make Yuji nervous. He was used to these threats, and they were empty more often than not.

“Yeahhh…” he drawled, unconvinced. But there was something in him that twisted his gut—not his spider-sense, but something… different. Something in his heart told him to worry.

Shaking his head, he made another advance in the direction of the enemy. He hadn’t bothered to remember his name, he’d never been a problem until now.

Swerving his hit, the big man continued. “I’ve been studying you, spiderman-“ he cut himself off with a groan, his incessant speech resulting in an impact meeting his side.

He grinned, malicious and knowing. As if he knew this was a game of cat and mouse, and he had him trapped like a rat. Something about it made Yuji hesitate, made that unfamiliar feeling in his heart throb. Yuji opened his mouth to retort, to at least attempt some sort of return that suited his sarcastic, spiderman fashion, but he was cut off.

“Or rather, I’ve been studying Yuji Itadori.”

He felt himself go immobile, felt his body freeze like an icicle in the midst of winter. His blood felt equally as cold, as if one move would make him shatter. People studied spiderman all of the time. There were news articles and personal reports and attempts at interviews—everyone knew everything about spiderman, except for his identity. At least, they did.

In that split second, Yuji had a terrible epiphany. With Yuji Itadori came Y/n L/n, always. A plethora of your shared moments flashed through his mind. Walking you to class, late night trips to the convenience store, all of the places around you that there’d been someone lurking. Someone just waiting for the right moment, gauging his behaviour and every aspect of his life, no doubt including the way he looked at you. Yuji might’ve seemed dense, but he was perfectly aware of how clear his love for you was. He loved everything, he loved the way the sun casted over the city and the way people lit up when he smiled at them on the street. He loved you most.

The figure looming over him smiled sickly, Yuji’s reaction telling him all he needed to know. As he began circling Yuji like a predator ready to pounce, he couldn’t stop him. All he could do was feel the pounding of his heart in his chest and wondering if yours was still able to do the same.

“So I was thinking…” the man began, trailing off for the sake of suspense no doubt. “What’s a better power to have over someone than love?”

The sinister words swirled in his ears like an echo. His mouth felt dry, the rest of the world fading to TV static as he tried to glance around for any sign of you, but his gaze was far too frantic to make out the shape of the person in front of him let alone you.

With a devilish snigger, you were revealed. Simply based off of the widened state of your eyes and the way you writhed in the rope you were restricted by, it was fairly clear this was news to you. Had your mouth not been taped, he was sure you’d have plenty to say. As his eyes locked with yours, the world slowed to a halt around you. Your gazes spoke louder than any words, louder than any scream into the dead of night. It spoke of love and fear all the same.

“Stop,” was all he could croak out. “Stop!” he shouted, louder this time as his gaze turned.

“Mm.. so I was correct, then?” said the near cyborg beast beside you.

Yuji’s gaze flickered to you, just for a split second. He contemplated lying, but he just… couldn’t. The words felt bitter and out of place on his tongue, even before they were spoken. So he chose bravery, in every sense of the word, and kept with his offence.

“Maybe, that’s none of your business,” he grunted, words emphasized with a hit to the man’s gnarly face. Yuji had a new sense of determination, the animalistic instinct to protect you. He’d already lost so many, lost his parents and his brother and the sense of humanity he grasped on to like the thread he hung by. He wouldn’t lose you.

All you could do was watch. You could only sit there like the helpless bystander you loathed to be, staring in horror as who might’ve been the love of your life was pummelled into the ground. It was like a twisted pattern of pain and the red of his blood darkening his suit. With every hit he landed he received tenfold, but somehow he always got back up. That was Yuji for you.

As the fight continued, you couldn’t help but begin to notice the obvious similarities between the vigilante and your own best friend. You felt utterly idiotic. Why else would he care so much, who else would you have shared those conversations with? Why else would Yuji look at you just a little different every time you met with spiderman? It all made sense. All of the “I’m sure your best friend is lucky to have you”’s and the explanations to Yuji’s actions that seemed just a bit too personal. Now you knew why, and you couldn’t even respond to the information, imprisoned by the tape over your mouth and the weight of your obliviousness as the sound of fist against face rang through the streets.

A weak, muffled cry fell from your lips as he was knocked to the ground.

Everything was going in slow motion. The robotic arm raised, hovering over Yuji like a sledgehammer just waiting to pound down. But then there was a metallic whine, and a halt. Panic washed over the man’s face as he froze—well, the metal parts of him froze, and those were the only parts that amounted to much.

He sputter and panicked, watching as the countless officers surrounding the area became aware of his suspended movement. It was over, just like that? He seemed just as surprised as you were, and as your eyes met, you were shocked to feel anything in common with him.

When you were freed of the twine that had been keeping you in place, you wasted no time in rushing to Yuji. The red and blue of the lights surrounding you blanketed him, making him appear as nothing but a puddle in the street. He looked completely melted—limp, and for a moment you thought he might not live to hear what you had to say.

You pulled his mask up over his face, disregarding the people around you and their wandering eyes. His face was battered and bruised, but undeniably still his, still alive. You felt your shoulders deflate as his throat bobbed, the small, otherwise unimportant motion doing numbers to ease your nerves. He was still here. You could still learn to love spiderman as you did Yuji, you’d still get the chance to feel their hearts beat as one.

His eyes fluttered open, vision bleary from the flashing lights and his lack of consciousness. “Y/n?” he muttered, voice nearly inaudible. It was the first thought in his mind when he woke, even before the fuzzy outline of your face came into view. His eyes flickered brighter when they saw you. He knew that face anywhere. “Y/n,” he breathed, softer this time.

“Yuji-“

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” he mumbled quickly. His hands reached for yours, the shaky, bruised skin wrapping itself in yours. It stung, but the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his was enough to soothe the ache. He was convinced that if you were to kiss every injured part of him, his bones would straighten themselves out for the sole purpose of holding you, because broken arms can not cradle. Snapped fingers cannot run through your hair, so if he were broken, he would repair himself as long as it meant loving you. No amount of bloodshed would keep him away, he would return to you in the winds if he had to.

You chuckled lightly despite the distress of the moment. “For not telling me what? That you’re spiderman or that you’re in love with me?”

He grinned tiredly, canines peeking out brightly, white against the pink of his lips. “Both.”

— ⋮ ᰔ

The sound of knuckles against your window was dull and hollow, but not unexpected. It did little to startle you, barely bothering to look up from your textbook as you hunched over your desk.

“It’s open!” you called over your shoulder, followed by the creak of the glass sliding open. The sound of Yuji’s feet meeting the ground pulled you from your school immersed daze, office chair swivelling around to face him.

“You know, leaving your window open at night is dangerous,” he said, half joking. His mask was already pulled from his face, messy pink hair matted and messy on his head. He was making quick work to pull off the rest of his suit as he spoke, hopping around on one foot as he tried to pry it from his skin.

You responded with an underlaugh, “I’m on the fourth floor. Nobody except spiderman is sliding open my window at eleven at night on a Tuesday.”

“Well-“ he cut himself off by knocking into your bedframe. He glanced back to you, cheeks warming in the slightest as he tried to balance himself and remain authoritative. “Well, they might!” he exclaimed. His eyes narrowed, but you didn’t find any sense of irritation in them. Within his shining brown irises was concern, the lingering anxiety that came with the events not long before. Yuji had been on edge ever since, constantly glancing around corners and panicking when you were out of sight for even a moment. In the corners of his vision lingered the sight of you helpless, burned into his mind like a tattoo he never wanted.

He tossed the red article somewhere on your floor, disregarding it entirely. He stood above you, arms crossed and trying to look annoyed, but resulting in a different, much cuter pout. He was many things that he wouldn’t admit. Tired—very much so—from spending his day trying restlessly to save lives, scared, and craving the tenderness in your touch that he never received with the mask over his face. When you locked gazes, holding it felt particularly hard for him tonight, because he knew you could see right through him. He felt bare, and not just because you were looking at his real face.

You sighed softly, standing up from the chair. You guess your studying could wait another night, because you knew Yuji couldn’t. Your chest throbbed with the thought of the danger he came face to face with constantly, the responsibility he carried on his back through every waking moment. The weight was heavy, and it was exhausting.

Placing a chaste, fleeting kiss on his cheek, you tugged him over to the bed. His hand was soft in yours, a contrast to the callouses and scrapes adorning the skin there.

“Come lie down,” you mumbled.

He glanced between you and the desk you previously occupied, brows knitting together. “Weren’t you busy?”

“I’m not anymore. Just come rest with me, please.” You shook your head, earnestly reflecting in your eyes.

He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak. “You don’t have to…” he began, but he stopped himself. He really, really did want to rest. He wanted to listen to your heart beat against your chest and have your breath fan over his skin, he wanted to curl into your embrace and be reminded that in this cruel world was a place of love. He knew that deep down, his heart resided with you, and he never felt it truly thump until he was in your arms. “…okay.”

So he crawled into bed with you, tired and almost clingy in his actions. His body slotted against yours like the missing piece of a puzzle, his arms slithering around your waist and face nuzzling into the crook of your neck like it was always meant to be there. He let his ear press against your shirt and hear the life beneath your skin, letting out a breath and physically melting into your arms. He looked so much more gentle like this. He wasn’t the sarcastic or silly figure the world knew spiderman to be, he was just a boy that wanted to help. He was just a kid like you who needed to know that there were things left to cherish.

Some would say you had two lovers. One a courageous figure in the night, the other a warm hearted, pink haired student barely making it into college. But you knew that spiderman was nothing but the parts of Yuji that had always lived within, and the bits that defined him most.

That night you traced every line and freckle on his face, committing it to memory because now there was no suit between you. You admired him as he slept, relishing in the tranquility of it all. It was just you and Yuji, flesh and love and transparency all in one.

From then onwards, Yuji fought his battles with just a bit more hope, because he knew you’d be waiting for him by the window when he won.

I MISSED writing for Yuji ugghhhhhhhhhh. If I wrote a part 2 of a strangers heart would yall fw that or nah (wouldn’t be for a while tho). I cannot write action at all im so sorry 😭 also cba to give big scary villain a name so it got repetitive

Jjk/gen taglist — @sh0ot1ngst4r @anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @lizbix @bubybubsters @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee

— I did not tag those who could not be tagged. If you were on the general taglist and don’t see yourself, it’s because your tag settings stopped me from doing so.

im begging for you to make a drummer bakugou based on that "i hate attention" video on tiktok of the girl on his lap

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ divine agnes ! the coincidence that i also saw the video on my feed just as i was reading this ask. a bit suggestive, though not full-blown smut. fem!reader ♡

this was the part of the show everyone waited for.

it had started as a half-serious joke during rehearsals, but now, it was a signature moment—where the band performed shirtless and invited fans onto the stage. it was chaotic, but the fans loved it—always ate it up. every. single. time. katsuki, ever the showman despite his usual preference for controlled chaos, played along because, hell, why not? it wasn’t like anyone would hinder his ability to play the drums anyway.

tonight, as dunce face—their lead guitarist—went off stage and picked a handful of lucky fans onto the stage, his eyes locked onto you.

you stood out, not because you were screaming or jumping like the others, but because it felt like you were anticipating what is to come. a black, skin-tight dress that clung to your curves, highlighting the physical attributes of your chest, the stage lights making the fabric shimmer in a way that made katsuki’s throat feel dry.

before he could second-guess himself, he stood up, walked towards you—past eijirou and hanta, who were getting to know some of their chosen fans—and met you halfway on the stage.

“c’mere, princess,” he called, his voice rough but somehow carrying over the background music. “you enjoyin’ the show s’far?” bakugou took your hand—warm, steady—and guided you over to where his drums were and sat you carefully on his lap.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the music.

you looked down at him, smiling in a way that sent a slow burn through his chest. “yeah. i—yeah,” you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“relax, i ain’t gonna bite you,” he chuckled, letting your arms search for a place to ground yourself without feeling too awkward and uncomfortable. “hold on to me, yeah? wouldn’t want you fallin’ for someone else.”

katsuki barely had a second to brace himself before getting back into the rhythm. his hands moved on instinct, drumsticks striking with practiced precision, his legs pumping the pedals without missing a beat.

which was when he realized the problem.

his legs were moving.

you were sitting on his lap.

and every time his foot hit the bass pedal, every slight motion of his thighs—you moved with it.

you had your hands on his shoulders, gripping them lightly for balance, your pretty, sparkling nails pressing into his skin—he was sure it’ll leave a mark (good). every shift, every flex of his muscles beneath you made your body press just that much closer, and—fuck.

your dress.

that damn dress.

his eyes kept flickering down, catching glimpses of smooth skin, the curve of your chest barely restrained by the neckline, and the way the fabric clung to your waist. it was a distraction in the worst way possible, his brain fighting between focusing on the setlist and the fact that he had a gorgeous girl practically grinding on him in front of thousands of people. that particular friction had his mind reeling from thoughts, his pants suddenly feeling tighter from the straining of his throbbing cock.

you didn’t seem fazed at all, though. you were smiling down at him, completely unaware of the way his jaw had locked, how he had to dig his heels into the stage to stop himself from reacting.

“you look prettier up close,” you say, sultry whispers close to his ear that had katsuki huffing shortly.

this girl, fuck.

he forced himself to keep his cool, to rely on muscle memory to get through the song, but every little movement—it was practically humping at this point—sent another spark of heat racing through him. his fingers tightened around the drumsticks, knuckles white with the effort of keeping himself under control.

the worst part?

you were enjoying it.

not in a teasing, intentional way—but you were clearly having fun. there was nothing forced about the way you laughed when the crowd cheered, nothing fake about the way you met his eyes and grinned like you belonged there, like you knew exactly what kind of effect you had on him.

he almost fucked up a beat. almost.

katsuki never messed up during a performance, even if he’s had a hundred girls on his lap before, doing the same thing you were, but you were making it damn difficult to keep his head in the game. the exception above all to all of this.

and just as suddenly as it started, the song was over.

he helped you off his lap, graceful as ever, and for the first time in his life, katsuki found himself staring at a girl as you thanked him before you walked away—not because he was annoyed, but because he wasn’t ready for you to go.

before you disappeared into the crowd of fans being escorted off the stage, he caught your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“you liked it?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound steady, even though his heart was still pounding for an entirely different reason than adrenaline.

you tilted your head, considering. “i don’t really like too much attention,” you admitted. then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, “but… i wouldn’t mind if it came from you. in more ways than one, pretty boy.”

then you were gone, melting back into the sea of fans with your friends.

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering heat crawling up his spine. suddenly the cold air of the place gave him chills, as if he hadn’t been shirtless for an hour and a half by now. he was about to turn back to his drum kit when he noticed something.

a small, folded note is sitting on his stool.

his name was scrawled on it, and when he opened it, he found a simple message—and a phone number. maybe you’ve expected this from the very beginning.

his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite anything else either.

tonight just got more memorable for him.

sex tape headcons 😉😉

PRETTY ON CAMERA 🎀 HAMZAH X READER

includes: rough sex, sex tapes, choking, fem!reader, ft sex, unprotected sex

wordcount: 2.2k

as much as hamzah hates to admit it, he loves being on camera - and that doesn’t stop at just youtube videos.

despite the promise to himself he made mental note of in high school to never send nudes, it’s become his new addiction. he loves to show off every inch of himself to you, he loves the praise you give in response to seeing his body, and he especially loves knowing that he can make you go feral with a simple video.

on a similar note, he fucking adores seeing you on camera. he likes the way you get shy when being recorded, whether the audience is slushies or it’s a video just for him. he’s obsessed with the pretty lingerie you wear for him and the way your tiny hands caress your body while you think of him. it makes him want to fucking destroy you.

ever since you two have gotten into the habit of filming videos for each other, it’s almost like something’s awoken inside of him. an urge of sorts, to make a fantasy he’s kept bottled up forever real. he wants both of you on camera, together. however, there’s one problem preventing him from asking:

hamzah is a pussy.

but thankfully, you’re just as horny as he is nervous.

the topic doesn’t actually come up until a day where your boyfriend is particularly needy. he’s sleeping over at martin’s tonight - a little too long without you for his liking.

fortunately for him, martin and mandy had forgotten to get a few items for their next video, so he had a bit of alone time. as soon as they’re out the door, his shirt is pulled off and he’s facetiming you.

as your phone buzzes to life, you’re snapped out of your doomscrolling session, wearing just one of hamzah’s large hoodies and a pair of panties. you smirk a bit at the sight of his contact popping up on your screen and sit up.

“hi, baby.” he says, voice deep. “I miss you.”

“i miss you too,” you reply back, in a more light tone. “but ill be with you tomorrow..” you say, smirking. you’ve got the same idea as him.

“are martin and mandy home?” you ask. as much as you want hamzah right now, you really don’t want to deal with the consequences of his best friend overhearing you two.

“nah, they left a little while ago.. forgot to buy some stuff for the video. ..soo, I have you all to myself.” he says, smirking.

“yeah?” you lean into the camera, doe eyes sparkling up at him.

“yeah. y’know, I missed hearing your voice, baby. it’s enough to get me hard.” he mutters, voice deep and breathy. it only makes you want him more.

you can only bring yourself to reply with a simple, “mhmm?” as your hands reach into your panties.

“yeah.. fuck. get that fucking hoodie off too. wanna see all of you.” he mutters back. you can tell he’s touching himself now too.

immediately, the hoodie is on the floor, bare chest exposed to the camera. hamzah takes this as an opportunity to change his position as well, camera giving you a direct view of him laying on his bed, sweatpants pulled down as he grinds his cock into a pillow.

“fuck, miss those tits. you want that? my mouth on them?” he says, breathing heavy.

you moan at this, grinding down into your fingers - they aren’t nearly his size, but it’s the best you can do for right now.

“yes, fuck- keep talking.” is all you can utter out.

“yeah? wish this pillow was your pretty little pussy, you know that? wish you were right here right now-“ he chokes, “fucking rutting in this pillow, just wish it was you, baby.” the visual of his hips thrusting, starting to get desperate paired with his words is destroying you, but the next thing he says is what really does it.

“gonna fill you up when I get back home. gonna pump my come into you, until you can’t take it anymore - fuck.”

fuck.

you see his hips twitch as you bite your fist, seemingly both close to finishing. you can hear a faint “shit- shit.” from the other side of the camera, and with that, you feel yourself finish all over your fingers. just as you’re done, you see hamzah’s thrusts pause as he takes a breath, and you can only guess that he just came as well.

after both collecting your breath, you mutter out a simple, “wish we were together. instead of facetime, we could just like, record it.” he continues to lay down, still recovering, but once he actually processes what you just said he perks up.

“wait.. like, actually? you’d do that?” he asks eagerly, eyes slightly widening.

“I mean.. I wouldn’t ever post it or anything. just like.. something to watch when you’re not here. only if you’re comfortable though.” you casually reply, and suddenly he’s already hard again.

“im very comfortable. incredibly comfortable with that actually.” he says, excitedly, and it makes you giggle.

“get your camera charged for tomorrow then.” you say, a sly smile forming. you’re enjoying the way you have a hold on him. “oh- and make sure you bring a new sd card, not the one you use for filming. i have a feeling we’re gonna make a lot of footage.”

“yes ma’am,” he says, making a salute sign with his hands. even when he’s bricked, he knows exactly how to make you laugh.

hamzah is counting down the minutes until he gets to see you when the next day comes. martin and mandy are even shocked at his eagerness to get out of the house, joking that he hates them now.

after what feels like the longest drive he’s ever taken, hamzah arrives home. he’s speeding through the door, into the living room, only to see you’re nowhere to be found; that is, until he checks his bedroom.

he slowly opens the door to a sight he never wants to forget - you’re sprawled out on his bed, baby pink lingerie barely covering your body, as you fix your hair in your phone camera. the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention, and you look up at him with those big, sparkly deer eyes. you giggle at his mouth, jaw dropped at the sight of you. “missed me?”

“fuck, yes.” is all he can mutter as he crawls onto the bed beside you, pulling the camera out of his backpack and then carelessly tossing the rest of his stuff off the bed. he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, immediately making up for the time he was gone.

you breathlessly manage to pull him off of you. giggling, you whine, “hamzahh, you haven’t even started recording yet.”

“shit- forgot.” he grabs the camera and fumbles with it for a second, then places it on the side of the bed. you see a red light go off as he pulls you into another kiss.

your lips trace his as your tiny hands find their way to the bottom of his sweatshirt, pulling it off to reveal nothing underneath. he begins to undress you as well, big hands carefully tracing the dainty lace as he pulls it off you. he leans down to put his mouth on one of your tits, suckling on it like a newborn baby. one of his hands goes to the neglected breast, and the other to grip your neck. you gasp as his strong, veiny hands wrap around you, taking your breath away.

he pulls away from your chest, leaving you panting. you can see him mess with the strings of his sweatpants until they’re untightened, then pull them down, showing his erection through his boxers.

“hamzah…” is all you can say. he’s the only thing on your mind right now.

“baby..” he mutters back.

his strong hands push you back into the bed, laying you down. you look up at him, confused, watching him get closer to your face. he caresses your cheek for a second, moving your hair out of your eyes.

“so pretty.. my girl.” he mutters, love in every word that comes out of his mouth.

he gently palms himself through his boxers before slowly pulling out his cock. all you can do is stare at his dick, precum glistening from the tip. he drags it across your lips, and by instinct, you open your mouth. you lap at it, gently, but hamzah has a different idea.

“open.” is all hamzah says before suddenly, his whole cock is down your throat. you make a shocked sound, but then settle to the feeling of the shaft’s intrusion. he starts slow, but begins to thrust in and out of your mouth rapidly, giving you small breaks when he pulls out for air.

“so fucking hot.. feels so wet around me..” he groans, using your face as his own personal pocket pussy for the camera. the sounds of your gagging only turns him on more, hips stuttering as he thrusts.

“mhmm, mhn, mmgh- fuck! fucking- perfect little throat, all mine, my perfect girl-“ he says as you feel a twitch from inside your mouth. his hips stutter as he cums down your throat, with a “god- all mine. fuckkk.”

as he slowly slides his cock out of your mouth, his fluids coat the outside of your lips. he grabs the camera, showing it your face. you stick your tongue out, showing the lack of cum in your mouth. he pets your cheek again, deep voice muttering a “good girl, swallowing it all for me.” all you can do is give the camera a fucked-out smile.

hamzah repositions you two so you’re sitting in his lap, the camera facing your ass. you kiss him, sloppy, already feeling drunk off of the feeling of his cock fucking your mouth. as the two of you make out, he grips your ass, moving your hips against his lap. he pulls his sweatpants and boxers all the way down, making the connection skin-to-skin.

he lets out shaky breath before he grinds his bare cock against your pussy a few more times. “you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” is what he mutters before sliding in, exhaling a loud, “fuckkk” with it.

your ass bounces on top of him, making a loud “plap” sound every time you sink down onto his pelvis. his strong hands grasp onto your hips and lift your body up and down as he thrusts into you in unison. his hips speed up as do yours, until you’re panting on top of his cock, desperately making any kind of friction.

“ah- ah- ahh- fuck!” you whimper with each thrust, only making hamzah get more aggressive. he feels your cunt tighten around him, and thrusts as deep as he possibly can while you cum.

hamzah lets out a deep, breathy laugh as you nuzzle into his shoulder. he rubs your back gently, but then whispers a soft, “i still need to cum again, baby.”

you perk up again, preparing yourself for round 2, but hamzah is already manhandling you into place. he maneuvers you into all fours on the bed, then grabs the camera.

he records as he slides the tip of his cock against your pussy, then shoves his cock inside you. you let out a loud gasp at the intrusion. he uses the other hand to pull on your hair, aggressively yanking your head back, making you look him in the eyes.

“want you to beg for it-“ he says, out of breath, “beg for my cum.”

“mhmm.. please.. need it hamzah!” you say, whimpering and whining as your cunt tightens around his cock. he’s animalistic, thrusting into you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you.

“more.. fuck- more, baby. need to hear you while I cum.” he says.

“please hamzah, I need it, I need your cum inside me so bad. fuck- ruin me- ahhh, breed me!” you whine out, shaking from the way he pounds you. you groan as you feel him cum inside, seed filling you up and making you feel whole.

hamzah turns off the camera and puts it off to the side, still inside you. he doesn’t move, just lays on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your back.

“love you..” he mutters, “so fucking much.”

you softly whine back, face still pressed into the mattress. he slowly pulls out, his cum buried so deep inside of you nothing even leaks out. you try to sit up, but hamzah pushes you back down. “hold on- there’s.. one more thing i want to do.”

you look back at him, confused, and watch him as he grabs the camera and starts recording your ass. he slowly spreads your folds open, and after a second, cum begins to drip out. a quiet “fuck..” is all he can mutter, watching his seed drip out of his baby.

once hamzah is done being mesmerized by the way his cum leaks out of you, he lays back down and immediately wraps his arms around you, gently caressing your body, staring at you with all the love in the world.

“i love you too,” you tiredly murmur.

“huh?”

“you said i love you earlier.. so do i. i love you.”

he smiles at you for a second, then places a soft kiss on your forehead. “love you too, baby.”

thank u for reading!! SEND REQUESTS i fear we r in a hamzah drought.. 😞 but ill try to get them out quick mwah thank u baii

you and hamzah going round FOR round

NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. 🎀

includes: cute fluff at the start -> turns to v much rough sex. spanking, choking, slight degrading he gets a lil mean.. mentions of semi public sex

wc: 3.4k

back from vacation! hope u all enjoy 💖

there’s an overwhelming aura floating around the crowded house, and it’s draining the life out of you and your boyfriend.

neither of you are really the most social people in general, which is why it probably wasn’t the greatest idea to attend a family get-together with your side - the biggest yappers you know. you think you’re starting to see faces blur together as you continue to awkwardly smile, not paying attention to the conversation you’ve been dragged into.

you feel a wide hand slide just beneath your midriff, and you don’t need to look to know who it belongs too. you’ve already fixated enough on hamzah’s presence: the way he touches you, his smell, his breathing. his proximity makes you calm down a bit, exhaustion beginning to melt off your shoulders.

you shift your attention from the conversation back to your boyfriend, looking up at him from over your shoulder while his arms are wrapped around your waist. he gives you a look of reassurance, and you can tell already that he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“i think we might head out now.” he murmurs, voice soothing and soft. you smile up at him - a way to thank him for saving you from awkward social interactions - a much more genuine smile than the forced one you’ve had this whole time.

after saying your goodbyes, he walks you out with a protective arm around you. he stays like that until you two reach the car, and the subtle touch makes your heart jump to your throat.

he drives, hand softly pressed against your thigh, and you pull small talk out of him. you’ve found that throughout your whole relationship, that he just doesn’t happen to be a big talker. not that he doesn’t want to; he has things to say, he just doesn’t know how to unless you give him the opportunity. It’s the total opposite to how he is on camera, rambling and joking around with martin. he’s told you that he still gets nervous around you sometimes, even after months of dating, meeting your parents and literally moving in together - it’s endearing to you.

it’s a relatively far drive from where the two of you reside. not far enough that you’d ever have to spend the night away or anything, but far enough that you have to pee and he has to get gas. you’re running to the bathroom around the side of the building, and it really looks like you could get a disease or something back here, but your urge to piss is worse than whatever you could possibly be contracting.

you’re reminded how good he treats you when you find your way back to the car, only to see that hamzah’s grabbed you your favorite candy and a dr. pepper.

“thank you, baby.” you smile, genuinely greatful for the way he takes care of you. “so sweet to me.”

“only for you.” is all he replies back, voice deep and soft. you like moments like this, when you do things for each other without thinking. it lets you know he really cares.

his hand stays on your thigh for the entirety of the drive back. you’re arriving back at your place before you know it, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, freezing when you feel his hands run over your shoulder blades, traveling down to your waist. you’ve noticed how touchy he’s been with you all day. he’s been busy the past week, working on podcast stuff and getting the new studio situated - you guys haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. poor boy is probably pent up.

you’re wandering into your shared bed the moment the door is opened, falling into it face-first. hamzah follows you, snuggling in next to you. you feel his palm caress your back softly, feeling up your body.

“been missing you.” hamzah mutters. it’s enough to get you to lift your head off of the bed, unable to tell if he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way or an “i wanna cuddle and watch a movie with you” kind of way.

“hmm?” you say, tilting your head, shuffling to his side of the bed. hamzah eyes you up and down for a second, pursing his lips.

“c’mere.” he mumbles, patting his lap twice. you follow his commands, sitting between his thighs, hands balancing you out on his biceps. “atta girl.” he murmurs under his breath as his hands trace down your body, feeling up your ass specifically.

he’s kissing you before you know it, nothing slow and sweet like he normally is. it’s needy, desperate even, and it makes you feel weak. he’s pulling you as close as he can as your lips press up against each others, pinning you into place.

“missed you really fucking bad.” he says, same comment as last time, but more desperation in it. if it isn’t obvious already, you’ve come to the conclusion that he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way.

a hand creeps down under the softness of your hoodie (actually, his hoodie, which is one of many that you’ve stolen), pushing it up over your head and leaving you in just a lacy bra and nike pro shorts - the ones you know he likes because of the way it shows off your body.

he kisses you again, hard and deep, licking into your mouth like he’s never tasted anything better. he’s pulling away not soon after, one hand on your waist, the other trying to pull your bra off. he’s a little too far gone, struggling to yank it off as fast as he can, so you help him by unclipping it.

he stares as it comes off, groaning at the sight. he loves your tits, you’ve noticed, always taking time to play with them or suck on them like he’s a baby during foreplay. he’s already kneading a hand into one of them, sucking on the other hard enough to bruise. there’s teeth and tongue and it’s messy and wet - exactly how he likes it. you grind your hips against him a little, realizing how hard he’s gotten from just this, and giggle. it gives you an ego boost, how obsessed he is with your body.

“you don’t understand how bad- fuck.” he pauses when your hips meet his again. “how badly i wanted to fuck you.”

“yeah?” you smirk, voice smooth, yet still sounding almost as gone as he is.

“yeah.” he says, gripping onto your waist, slamming your clothed hips down onto his with a groan. “when i was looking at that studio with martin- he had to leave early, and i kept thinking about you.” he rambles, stuttering a bit as you grind into him. “fucking- got so hard- came all over my hand in the bathroom.” he groans. your eyes widen, blushing a little when what he just said hit you. he jerked off.. in public.. to you.

that’s.. really fucking hot.

you’re so turned on and it must show in your face, because hamzah is picking you up already. your instinct is to straddle him, wrapping your legs around him koala-style, but before you can move he throws you down onto the bed. big hands grip your thighs as he spreads your legs apart, pulling down your shorts and panties all in one swoop. he throws the shorts away, but keeps the panties. there’s a pause for a second, and you look up at him, confused.

“wanna make sure you stay quiet.” he mutters, breathy. he gets on top of you, arms pinning you down from each side, and then shoves your thong into your mouth.

fuck.

you can taste yourself on it, dripping with wetness from how badly you want him. he only smirks at you from above, then moves down, face to face with your pussy.

“stay quiet for me, okay?” is all he says before he’s diving in, mouth on your clit. you can’t help but moan at the sinful feeling through his makeshift gag. plus, you know that there might be a consequence to being noisy - which is exactly what you want right now.

his tongue is wide as he laps at your pussy, two fingers entering you before you know it. another loud moan gets him to stop for a second, biting down on your thigh. it’s like a warning, letting you know you’re on thin ice.

he wraps his strong arms around your thighs before he’s lapping up at you again, sucking at your clit while he curls his fingers up into you.

he slaps your thigh this time when you moan, and it only makes you louder - his last straw.

you whimper when he stops and stands up, watching as he pulls down his shorts and takes his cock out of his boxers. he positions his thighs so that they’re surrounding your shoulders, and he rips your panties out of your mouth. he strokes his cock with them for a second, speaking as he does it.

“if you don’t shut the fuck up-“ he pauses, groaning, “I’ll do it for you.”

your eyes widen. he’s getting mean, and you like it.

“mm?” is all you can say, pushing him to get meaner. he throws the panties to the side, then rubs his cock against your lips, now closed. his precum makes them glossy and shiny.

“so now you shut your mouth?” he says, cocky. it’s what he does next that really shocks you - a large hand comes down on your face, slapping you against the cheek.

“fucking open up.” is what he commands, and god you listen. his cock immediately goes all the way down your throat, a hand gripping at your hair.

“made me wait, so fuckin’ long- and this is how you treat me when i finally get to fuck you?” he growls, cock hitting the back of your throat again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the sensation of him using your mouth like it’s your pussy, barely giving you time to pull off and breathe, but god is it hot. his balls slap against your chin with each thrust, nose touching his thick pubic hair.

“fuckin’ choke on it- good girl.” he says, a finger playing with a loc of your hair. you love the way he praises you even when he’s being rough. at the end of the day, you’re still his princess.

his eyes flutter shut, hips stuttering and head rolling back when he cums, filling your mouth and making you choke. he pauses for a minute, cock sensitive, moaning at the feeling of you swallowing. there’s a long string of a spit and cum mixture that trails out of your mouth when he pulls out, coating your chin. he uses his dick to smear it around a little, making a mess. you smile, dizzy.

he stares at you in a haze, placing a soft kiss on your lips - he’s as sweet as he is rough.

“still wanna fuck you,” he whispers in your ear, voice deep and raspy. “until i’m fucking cumming dry.” god, the way he talks to you is so fucking hot.

he’s manhandling you again, flipping you over onto your stomach. you think he gets an ego boost from the way he can just grab you and throw you around. you’re not complaining either, to be fair; it’s hot.

you stick your ass up in the air, arching your back, knowing the sight is gonna turn him on. your thoughts are confirmed when you hear him groan, spreading the cheeks out to see your pretty pussy leak for him. he grabs his cock, sliding the tip against your folds, being careful not to slip in with how wet you are. you look back at him from behind, biting your lip and making eye contact.

“you look like a braindead fucking slut right now.” he says, out of nowhere. it’s dirty, a gross way to talk about you, but god does it make you wetter. he leans down, planting kisses on your neck, before wrapping his hands around your throat.

he’s sliding his cock in while he chokes you, and if your throat wasn’t already cooked from all the face-fucking earlier, it definitely is now. the stretch feels good for both of you; you know by the way he’s already setting a fast pace.

you can barely speak from the way he’s taking your breath away, from both the choking and the way he’s pounding into you, but you manage to choke out a strangled “hit me.”

you’re craving the roughness, and it makes him fucking feral. before you know it a hand is coming down on your ass, smacking you while his hips do the same. he continues until your ass is bright red, taking pride in the way he knows it’s gonna be bruised.

he moves his hand from your ass to your hair, gripping at the ends of it. your head is pulled back, accentuating the arch of your back, and it only makes his pace faster.

your hips are grinding against his, feeling your insides squeeze around him. your clit meets his hips each time he thrusts into you, and god, does it feel good. your vision spots as you feel your pussy flutter around him, and before you know it you’re cumming around his cock.

he pulls out moments after your orgasm, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. he flips you around and kisses you, picking you up by the ass and lifting you into his arms. your legs wrap around him instinctively, kissing him even deeper.

his hands move from your ass to the backs of your thighs, and you’re in awe of how he’s even capable of holding you up like this. you jolt as you feel him slam your back against the wall, and all of a sudden he’s holding you up against it with just a single hand. god, he’s so fucking strong.

he used the other hand to stroke himself (barely) before he pushes his cock back into you, both hands moving to your body. he thrusts into you, pinned up against his wall. his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, adding more than a few hickies. he likes to claim you like that, show everybody that you’re his. as much as it is scandalous, he fucking loves it when you show up on the podcast or in a video with hickies; he wants everyone to know that you’re his baby.

“h-hamzah,” you whine, overstimulated by the way he fucks your sensitive pussy even after your orgasm.

“yeah baby?” he asks, voice breathy as he thrusts into you, keeping his rapid pace.

“want you to cum inside me- fuck- so ffucking bad. don’t care if you get me pregnant.” you cry out, feeling his dick twitch inside you at his words.

and fuck, that does something to hamzah’s brain. hypothetically, he knows that probably isn’t a good idea, but god does the thought of it make him feel fucking feral. he decides between it for a few seconds in his head, before going with the option of “fuck it, we can get plan b after.”

you feel the drags of his cock inside you slow down, the “plap” sound of his thrusts getting deeper and louder, and suddenly your insides are warm and wet, being filled up by hamzah’s hot cum.

he takes a second to breathe, hands shaking a bit, but doesn’t pull out. you wrap your hands around his neck, keeping yourself upright. he’s already moving, cock still inside you - you give him a confused look as he opens the door and brings you out to the kitchen.

he grabs onto your thighs, picking you up and pulling you off his cock. he sits you right down on the kitchen counter, and suddenly you know exactly what he’s trying to do.

he crouches down onto the floor, getting on his knees. he’s face-to-face with the counter now, and about to be face-to-face with your cunt as he grabs your hips and pulls them to his mouth.

you expect him to dive in again, tear you apart, but he takes a different route. he spreads your lips apart with his fingers, gently thumbing your clit. you watch him, staring at your pussy, still sort of confused, until his cum begins to drip out of you.

he latches on to your pussy, licking at every drop of cum leaking out of you. not only does it feel good, but they way he’s lapping at his cum mixed with your juices is really, really fucking hot. you reach a hand down to your own pussy, rubbing yourself while he eats you out.

he continues until he’s nearly licked you dry and you’ve both settled after the intensity of the last few rounds. he kisses you, softly. it’s different from the rough tone of before, more like a “thank you” kiss.

he rests his head on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses over the deep red hickies he had left before. a soft hand massages your back, and you hear him whisper.

“think you can do one more?”

a blush creeps onto your cheeks at the question. you’ve never gone this long before, but the idea of fucking while still extra sensitive from the overstimulation is a lot more tempting than it should be. you smirk, deciding that you’re up for it.

“as long as you cum inside again.” is all you have to say before he’s lifting you up again, throwing you down onto the couch. he crawls on top of you, placing calloused hands on your small hips.

“all I have to do is touch you, and you’re already sounding so fucking pretty for me.” he mumbles when he hears the soft noises that come out of your mouth. he latches onto your collarbone, leaving more marks before he shoves his face into your titties. he’s such a fucking fiend, it makes you giggle a little.

you buck your hips up, too horny to be embarrassed by the moan you let out from him simply sucking on your nipple. a hand suddenly comes down on your pelvis, hard. you try to roll your hips, but his strong grip keeps you in place.

“gonna fucking break you.” he says, and god you need him more now than you ever have before. you watch him grip his cock in his hand, hard as a rock. your hips roll up for him, and he can’t help but force his cock into you with one big, long thrust.

“fuck- hamzah-“ you say, blood rushing to your head. he’s kept his hand on your lower half this whole time, pushing low on the place where his cock bulges against skin in your stomach, and god he’s so fucking big and it’s so sexy.

he’s pounding into you, fat cock twitching inside you and you can’t help but already feel a burning heat in your stomach, clenching hard around him.

“hamzah!” you nearly scream, the coil snapping in your stomach. you feel yourself drench his dick in your juices, pulsing around him - like a chain reaction, it only makes him cum even harder inside you, spilling his seed into your insides.

he rides out his orgasm, collapsing next to you. heavy breathing, he brushes a hand through his messy curls. he does that thing where he nuzzles his head in your neck again, and you lean into the touch, playing with his hair. you kiss him on the forehead, trying to convey all the love you felt in that moment to him.

he looks up at you, soft. it’s almost submissive; you can see the love in his eyes.

“you okay?” you ask, making sure he’s not dissociating too badly.

he nods. “can I- can- can you kiss me?” he mumbles, causing you to melt a little bit at the softness. you pull him in for a soft kiss, moving slowly. you savor the taste of him in the moment, taking it all in.

“love you.” he mutters as he pulls away. “sorry if i was like- too rough. I don’t wanna actually hurt you, I just like, stop thinking when i get a certain amount of horny, it’s like-“

you cut off his rambling with a kiss, smiling against his lips.

“you’re fine.” you giggle. “it was hot anyways.”

#BEHIND THE SCENES 🎥: a bakugou katsuki fanfiction

EVERYONE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE ─── new the industry, y/n is completely surprised when she books the lead in a new coming-of-age rom-com. she’s even more surprised—and frozen with intimidation—when she realizes her co-star is arguably one of the most popular actors in the last fifteen years; the katsuki bakugou.

directors notes ─── TAG LIST OPEN; 35/50. f! reader - she/her pronouns. smau/traditional. actor! katsuki & reader. smoking. profanity. angst. specific warnings added at the beginning of each chapter.

#SCENE LOCATIONS 🎞️: “i’ve fallen in love. i’m an ordinary woman.”

i. You’ve Got Mail -> 1.6k

ii. 10 Things I Hate About You

iii. Sleepless In Seattle

#CALL SHEET 📄: “i wanted it to be you so badly.”

─── leads.

y/n l/n ; 22. a struggling actress. wrinkled clothes. spilled ibuprofen in her purse. rent due.

katsuki bakugou ; 23. black coffee. a long winded career. rare genuine smiles. cigarette breaks.

─── side characters & extras.

uraraka ochako ; 22. a struggling university student. soft hair. fluffy hair. tangled headphones.

tsuyu asui ; 23. pet snake. easy to talk to. broken glasses. rainy days. early mornings.

kirishima eijirou ; 23. dogs. high motivation. grease-covered clothes. manly crying.

denki kaminari ; 23. blasting music at 2 am. road trips. energy drinks. sharks. bad movies.

YOU'RE SO VAIN!

"are you trying to flirting with me?"

"... did i make it too obvious?"

despite being a hopeless romantic, y/n has never truly experienced love in her life. stuffing her face in romance book, or sobbing to rom-com movies were her way of experiencing something she never had. but what happens when she comes across a fiery, blunt boy, whose flirty comments fly straight over her head?

bakugou x fem! reader

uploads every wednesday and friday!

released:

status: ongoing

content: modern high school au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, first person pov in reader's perspective, third person pov in bakugou's perspective, ooc bakugou sometimes

playlist | regular pinned

i. who i am

ii. take my hand and drive me head-first

iii. so pretty, it hurts

iv. do i like her? no definitely

v. you're so vain

vi. the way you smile

vii. crazy over you

viii. find yourself

ix. sitting alone

x. you'll never change

xi. alone again

xii. one more night

xiii. won't run away this time

THE END.

TAGLIST [29/50]: @ditsyngel @shibuyablonde @lotusstarr @katsulina @wonubby @kalulakunundrum @tamishadawn @bangersplusmash @erenjaegerswifeee @r9yri @aa-soo @shewki @rednicotine @jaguarthecat @katsuisbaby @snoozebun @h0ngh0ngh0ng @megumismyhusband @jazoewazoe @ac333s @ikissfade @icey-wonders @bakunianadecorazon @marvel-z0mbie @tjbfingfh @d4rlinxs @bokutosmeatythigh @harryzcherry @holobean

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

literally best thing i have ever listened to

Rafayel NSFW Audio

Rafayel x Listener

Content: You invite Rafayel into bed to help you sleep but ya'll end up fucking. What'd you expect? (Fingering, handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, eventual sex)

A/N: This took my the whole fucking day to make 😭 I didn't even get to log into L&DS today. I will right after I post this. 😝 Can you believe I got all these voice lines from the game? Anyway, pls enjoy as I do ts for free but if you fw it, give me a follow 🫶🏾 lemme know if you wanna be moots 😙😘 MWUAHH

Wanings: 🍋

Patreon

Rafayel x Listener | Eclipixels

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[nsfw!] car sex with rafayel

SAVE A PLANE, RAWDOG A PILOT

ON THIS PLANE, YOU’LL BE WITNESSING … commercial airline pilot!caleb & stewardess fem!reader, pure filth ahead!! warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI [18+ only], smut w no plot, he hits from behind, creampie, caleb’s a fucking tease, dirty talk, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up b4 any action irl), not fighter pilot caleb, degradation (he calls u a slut once), petnames: sweetheart, baby, princess, implied aftercare, slight comedy lol, not proofread wordcount. 0.8k (procrastinating from my long ass sylus fic sorz)

DEAR PILOT of yours just can’t stand not touching you after every flight you share together. He says its because he misses you, you say its because he needs to mark your pretty body for the next flight you’re on to ward off unwanted attention.

working with your childhood friend as a stewardess at an airline he worked as a pilot was.. pleasurable to say the least. Caleb had trained to be a fighter pilot, something you respected him for despite his ridiculous teasing whenever he came home. But what you wondered most now, was why he suddenly abandoned his duties just to be a pilot for a normal plane travelling across countries.

Crisp uniform, fitting hat and a smug smile. Today was one of the many unlucky days you shared a flight with him. Fuck this guy, you snarled in your mind whenever you even caught a glance of him coming out the cockpit. Though those words became a literal fuck me real quick after a long flight.

You prayed with a hazy mind and hands bracing on the wall of the narrow toilet in the plane that no one was outside, body bouncing with the force of Caleb’s thrusts from behind you. “Y-you’re going too fast, what if someone hears?” You stammered between uneven breaths mingling with moans, unable to make yourself care much for your surroundings despite your concerned words, earning a scoff from the man making your legs quiver from behind.

“The only thing someone’s gonna hear is your fucking moans if you keep talking, sweetheart,” Caleb grunted with a hoarse chuckle, jaw clenched soon after with stuttering his hips stuttering into your sloppy cunt, velvety walls tightening around him like a silky vice.

He was in awe of his own self-control whenever he sunk his achingly hard cock back into your pussy, feeling your insides fluttering around him to accommodate his length stretching you out. The man couldn’t help but lean forward at this one specific clench, hand slamming against the wall ahead of you just above one of your own trembling hands.

“She’s so hungry for my cum, isn’t she, baby? Making it so hard for me to hold back with all that clenching..,” he murmured softly just behind your ear, though it was more like he was talking to your pussy with how he was punctuating his every word with a thrust, his body leaning down close to you with ease due to his tall height. He buried himself further into your warm heat with a squelch, the lewd mix of his pre-cum and your arousal. He felt a jolt of desire when you only clamped down on him harder in response, making him exhale a chuckle and quicken his pace, bringing you and himself closer to the edge.

“Ooh, fuck, now you’re feeling it, aren’t you? About to make a biiig fucking mess on my cock like a dirty slut,” he drawled cruelly with an initial growl, head dipped into your shoulder with your hand on your hip only tightening to hold you in place. Every plow of his cock inside your needy cunt filled the small room, the sound of skin against skin surely to reach the ears of those close by.

True to Caleb’s words, you sobbed a moan of pleasure, knees falling weak and unstable as your orgasm overwhelmed you, creaming all over his cock, making a mess that began to drip on the floor. Regardless of your recent climax, Caleb showed no signs of stopping, your pleasure only feeding his desperate desire to reach that high with you, to fill you up, mark you for the rest of the next flight until he could have you again. In time, his balls drew up tight, one last surge forward before he stilled and pumped his seed into your tight channel, painting those velvet walls white with his essence.

“Ungh.. Think I just made you even warmer than you already were, princess,” Caleb laughed weakly, forehead resting against your shoulder, big hand on your hip the only support you had to keep standing. “.. Oh, fuck you,” you huffed between pants, head hung low to catch your breath and recompose yourself from the intense pounding he’s given you ever since the plane landed and the passengers unloaded. “Yeah, you sure did,” he scoffed with a grin, leaning in with a pull from your stomach to sneak a kiss onto your cheek. He leaned away once more before you could gain the energy to scold him further, slowly pulling out of your used hole, leaving it full empty with nothing but oozing cum.

He reached out for the toilet roll nearby, grabbing a thick bunch of tissue to clean your wet inner thighs and wiping your slick folds with little effort, not wanting to truly clean you up of his cum yet. Besides, you were too tired to notice at the moment, so he pulled your panties up, tugging your skirt back down as he helped you take your hands off the walls to stand up straight.

After a proper few minutes of insisted aftercare by Caleb, you two were outside of the bathroom again, readying yourselves to leave the aircraft for your next respective flights. Once this experience ended, you thought that maybe sharing a flight with him wasn’t so bad. Well, maybe until you began to feel his cum beginning to drip down onto your panties while you were walking.

Gurlll we need hamzah x longterm!gf!reader

Like they've been together since 4freakshow, maybe she was even a member. I just can imagine him taking her camping cause he liked it sm with martiin and they make a vlog and they're just super cute and the fans love em and all. Omg i need him like NOW!!

STOPPPP THIS IS SO CUTE omg, i’ll probably tap into the camping one later i just really like the idea of reader being his long term gf and needed to whip something up asap. also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAMZAH 🥳

i like the idea of you not being in freakshow and everytime hamzah brings up having a girlfriend literally no one believes him to the point where it becomes a running bit that you’re completely made up LOLLL like that one kid in school that’d always be like “i have a gf she just goes to a different school 😑”

he didn’t talk about you very much due to respecting your privacy and not wanting to air out your business and relationship until you were ready, but he also just thought it’d be soooo funny to have everyone believe he didn’t have a girlfriend only to reveal on stream that you’re very very real.

and he’s beyond excited when you tell him you’re okay with announcing yourself, comes up with a whole plan on how you’ll do it during his birthday stream.

it’s like towards the end of the freakshow stream, hamzah is mid sentence when you walk into his room, he’s like “i didn’t even — oh hey”

he’d instructed you to strap one of those silly party hats on him, hand him a cupcake, kiss him on the lips, then leave without saying a word siisjwjsjjsjsns and the chat goes crazy of course and the other freakshow members go quiet bc they were also very convinced you weren’t real, and he’s like —

hamzah: why’s everyone quiet?

claire: ??

haley: ??

chase: who the hell was that.

h: my girlfriend?? duh. anyways i gotta go

immediately hops off the stream but joins you in the next room to watch the remainder of it and read comments. he’s pretty pleased with himself too until the chat is convinced you’re an actress he hired just for this 😭

ROUND FOR ROUND

hamzah celebrates with you first thing after his victory.

“and the winner is.. blue corner!”

the moment you heard those words, closely followed by cheers erupting throughout the venue, you knew what was in store for you.

hamzah did promise, after all. he made it abundantly clear that you were the first person he’d want to see if he won the match.

watching him land powerful hits, moving with precision and accuracy throughout the ring was undoubtedly making you feel some sort of way. you knew hamzah was strong and he’d most likely win, but god was it enticing to watch him fight anyways.

when the referee raised hamzah’s arm to crown him the winner, instead of looking out to the crowd - his eyes immediately met yours, an exhausted but cocky grin plastered on his face.

and — only about a half an hour later — the two of you were back in his ‘locker room.’ his nose is bruised and bloodied and he’s still slightly winded but he wants you all the same.

“shit.. wearin’ my name, screaming all loud for me out there,” he whispers in awe between kisses, slipping his hands underneath the blue fabric of your shirt printed with the words TEAM HAMZAH, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. “gonna keep this on while i fuck you.” he mutters under his breath, grabbing a fistful of the fabric.

he has you laid across the couch, his body slotted between your spread legs. he was impatient, greedy, for his reward. your pants lie in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to the tattered lace of your underwear that hamzah just had to completely rip off your body.

“you’re so pretty,” hamzah breathes out, relishing in the sight of you beneath him, wearing his name. “my fuckin’ prize.”

he meets your gaze, looking like a man starved. the only thing he needs after that fight is you.

he’s running purely off the adrenaline he has that’s left over from the boxing match, or else his body would probably give out and collapse on top of yours right now.

“fuck,” he says, his voice gruff with desire. “baby, i need to feel you right now.”

“yes,” you breathe out. “please, hamzah.”

he hums lowly against your neck as he impatiently bites and kisses at your skin, eliciting small moans from your lips. his hand reaches down between your bodies to sloppily tug down his own shorts and boxers, carelessly leaving them pooled around his knees.

“y’okay?” he asks lowly, his lips skating across the shell of your ear as you feel his length press against your inner thigh. “don’t go holdin’ back on me. m’not that weak.” he taunts.

a small breathless laugh leaves your lips, your hands finding his shoulders and loosely holding on. “who says i’m holding back?”

he pulls away, grinning down at you, expression full of sin. “good,” he replies darkly. “cause i’m not, either.”

you can hardly register his words before he’s lining himself up with your entrance and bottoming out inside you with a single movement. your breath lodges in your throat, only a small choked whine escaping.

“oh, god,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of your walls adjusting to him. “fuck — y’take it so well, baby.”

you nails sink into his shoulders, making half moon indents in his skin as he starts snapping his hips into you, his cock filling you completely and utterly.

mindless moans and chants of his name tumble from your lips. his tip bumps against your cervix with each thrust, making your body jolt with pleasure.

“hamzah,” you whine, your spine arching off the surface of the couch, his rigid chest pressing up to yours, your bodies only separated by the shirt you wore to support him.

that’s what hamzah loves to see. you, his number one fan, unconditionally encouraging him in his endeavors. it drives him crazy. he wonders how he got so lucky.

“hmm?” he hums with a slight grin. “feels good, huh?”

each slam of his hips steals your breath away. he’s so deep. your mind is fuzzy and every word you try to force out gets caught on the tip of your tongue.

“c’mon, honey. you can tell me, i know you can.” he growls, needing the affirmation. “be a good girl f’me.”

“ye — yes!” you whimper pathetically, your stomach clenching as your arousal intensifies, building tension with each smack of his skin against yours. “it’s.. it’s so good,”

“thaaat’s it,” he purrs, his breath fanning across your neck. “my girl, my perfect girl.”

hamzah’s fingers squeeze and grab at every inch of your body underneath your shirt, trying to ground himself impossibly closer to you. he touches on your tits, your hips — until his hands find your legs, and he’s suddenly straightening up to grab your calves and hook your ankles up over his shoulders.

you squeeze your eyes shut, crying out in pure ecstasy as the new position allows him to slip even deeper into you, pounding into you under a euphoric, adrenaline-and-lust-filled haze.

“fuck,” he grunts, his jaw hanging slack between each word he grits out. “fuck, i’m gonna cum already — shit, baby.”

“mmh — hamzah, i c-can’t.. you’re so.. fuck, just.. don’t stop!”

he exhales an evil, breathless laugh. “shh, baby. jus’ finish f’me, don’t get all dumb now.”

his teasing words and his cock ramming into your dripping cunt finally tip you over the edge. your body shutters as your climax hits you in white-hot waves of pleasure.

the groan that hamzah lets out is downright animalistic, his head lolling backwards. he struggles to keep his release in with the added pressure of your pussy squeezing his length. he’s completely buried inside you, letting you process through your own feelings before he loses his self-control.

“shiiiit,” he murmurs lowly, his grip on your legs tightening as they tremble with the intensity of your orgasm.

he stares down at you through hooded eyes, and the sight of you completely undone beneath him nearly makes him finish on the spot.

as you finally start to calm, he just can’t contain himself anymore. he begins to pull out, making you whine softly before the noise is cut off with a sharp gasp as he suddenly plunges right back inside.

“fuck!” you whine, your hands desperately gripping at the couch as you finally feel his cock twitch, his warm release spilling inside of you.

“oh, o-oh, yes, fuckin’ perfect..” hamzah gasps, stilling inside you as he comes down from his own high.

“baby, if beating up martin is what it takes for a reward like this.. i’m goin’ for a damn knockout next time.”

a/n: i started this when the fight first happened and i just now finished it oops. sorry for not being consistent <\3

xoxo giulia

ᡣ𐭩 between shared walls ⋮ roommate!hamzah

wc ⋮ 1.2k

authors note ⋮ so this was ORIGINALLY intended to be like 300-500 words.. yeeeaaahhh.. ANYWAYS i feel like theres rlly not enough hamzah fics and its so sad i read them all in like 2 days💔💔

the first time you met hamzah, he was standing in the doorway of your new apartment, a cup of instant ramen in hand and sleep-mussed hair. his voice was groggy when he introduced himself, rubbing his eyes like a kid waking up from a nap. you were flustered, apologizing for the boxes blocking the hallway, but he just shrugged.

“it’s your home too,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile before disappearing into his room.

living with him was… easy, in ways you didn’t expect. he cleaned the kitchen without being asked and always brewed an extra cup of tea in the mornings. you’d find notes on the fridge in his scrawled handwriting — reminders like “don’t forget your umbrella” or “good luck on your exam!” he never overstepped, always giving you space, but his quiet presence became a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

but easy didn’t mean simple.

you tried not to fall for him. truly, you did. but then he’d lean against the counter late at night, listening to your ramblings about work with those gentle eyes, or he’d nudge your shoulder with his when you were sad, offering a half-hearted, “want me to fight whoever upset you?”

it built slowly, this ache in your chest.

and then, one night, it cracked.

you’d just gotten home from a disastrous date, eyes puffy from crying, mascara streaking your cheeks. hamzah was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and he immediately sat up when he saw you.

“what happened?” his voice, usually so light, was low, serious.

you tried to brush it off, but he wouldn’t let you. he listened as you spilled every awful detail — the harsh words, the disappointment, the feeling of never being enough. you kept talking until your throat hurt, until there was nothing left to say.

and then he whispered, “he’s an idiot, you know.”

you laughed, wet and shaky. “i think that’s generous.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, and something shifted.

“i don’t get it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “how anyone could have you — could know you — and not feel like the luckiest person alive.”

your heart thudded painfully. “hamzah…”

he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “forget it. you should get some sleep.”

for days, things were… strange. he wasn’t cold, but distant in a way he never was before. the notes on the fridge stopped, and he spent more time in his room, door closed. you missed him, missed the way things used to be, and it made your chest feel hollow.

but then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

hamzah stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, looking unsure for the first time since you met him.

“i can’t —” his voice cracked. “i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more.”

and just like that, the ache in your chest unraveled.

because neither could you.

you stared at hamzah, your heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. his words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile all at once.

“i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more,” he’d said, voice shaking like he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

but the truth was, you hated it more — hated the thought of him hurting, of him thinking he had to hide from you.

“come in,” you whispered, stepping aside.

he hesitated, lingering in the doorway like he might run. but he didn’t. he stepped into your room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, and you shut the door behind him.

the silence stretched, uncomfortable and loaded. you sat on the edge of your bed, picking at the hem of your sweater, and hamzah stayed standing, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice small.

he exhaled a humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “because you deserve someone better.”

your chest cracked open. “better?”

he nodded, pacing the length of your room. “someone who doesn’t freeze up every time you smile at them. someone who can actually hold a conversation instead of standing there like an idiot because they’re too busy trying not to stare at your mouth.”

your breath caught. “hamzah—”

“you don’t get it.” he turned to face you, eyes burning. “i liked you from the start. and every day i told myself it was just a crush, that it would fade. but then you’d leave me notes on the fridge or laugh at my stupid jokes, and it just… got worse.”

you swallowed hard, hands trembling in your lap. “it wasn’t a crush,” you whispered. “not for me either.”

he froze. “what?”

you stood, heart in your throat. “i tried so hard not to fall for you, hamzah. but then you’d make me tea when i couldn’t sleep or stay up late watching terrible movies with me because i was sad, and i… i couldn’t help it.”

he stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i thought you didn’t see me that way,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i thought i was just your roommate.”

hamzah closed the distance between you in two steps. his hands hovered over your arms like he was scared to touch you, scared you’d disappear.

“you were never just anything to me,” he whispered.

and when you didn’t pull away, he finally cupped your face in his hands, fingers warm and careful.

“you sure about this?” he asked, voice shaking.

you nodded, tears burning your eyes. “i’ve never been more sure.”

so he kissed you — soft, tentative, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. but when you kissed him back, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, he melted.

and for the first time since you met him, everything finally made sense.

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it's your senior year at the aerospace academy, and over the course of nine months, your connection with caleb shifts from mere classmates and acquaintances to something deeper. but there's one problem—the girl he loves back home.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, non-mc reader, feminine implied reader, some connections to caleb’s 4-star tender moments, angst/hurt + no comfort, kinda long but fast paced

★ 𝐰𝐜: 11.1k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: longest fic i've written yet, go me woot woot :p i wanted to write heartbreak so here it is. pls do not have your therapist bill me, thx! anyways when caleb goes, ‘i wont get a girlfriend’ in stage observer, he sounds kinda down, right? yeah imagine hes thinking about you (the reader) in this as he says that LOL. okay, (try to) enjoy lovelies!! <3

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝!

I never believed I’d let something like this happen to me. 

Yet it crept in quietly, the way all irreversible things do. A shift so subtle I almost missed it, until I was already too deep to turn back.

It was in the lingering glances, in the way the air felt charged in the spaces between us. In the laughter that came too easily, the silences that felt safe, the moments that stretched just a little too long. It was in the way he looked at me; like maybe, for a second, he saw something more.

But love, if you can call it that, isn’t always kind. Sometimes, it’s a quiet war. A battle between logic and longing, between what’s real and what’s only ever been wishful thinking. And when the person you want is still holding onto someone else, someone they can’t seem to let go of, where does that leave you?

I swore I’d keep my balance; though gravity has a mind of its own.

August-

It was breezy, as are most August days in Skyhaven. Fumbling my fingers through my hair, desperately trying to comb through any loose strands from the wind, I tried to make myself look somewhat presentable for my first day of classes. It was senior year, and I wanted to make the most of it for once, as it felt like the past few years had been me barely passing by. 

I sat down in the lecture hall, music blaring through my headphones as I fidgeted nervously with the pen in my hand. It wasn’t long before a figure sat next to me in my peripheral, and I internally groaned.

‘You have this whole ass lecture hall with so many empty seats in this row, and you sit right next to me. Dick.’ I thought to myself.

Seeing the person tap on my desk, I glanced over to notice it was Caleb.

We had crossed paths before, orbiting the same social circles through mutual friends. Our interactions had been fleeting, exchanged pleasantries at gatherings or brief moments of conversation that never really dug beneath the surface.

His lips moved as he spoke but I didn’t hear a word he said over the sound of my music. I pulled one of the speakers off my ear, “What?”

“Well first I said ‘hey, what's up?’, then told you I’m glad to know someone in this class.” Caleb smiled, “But then I realized you weren’t listening.”

His grin was infectious. Then again, everything about him was. Caleb was a campus favorite, and for good reason; his effortless charm and magnetic charisma drew everyone in, leaving them captivated.

I smiled back, “I would’ve listened, I just couldn’t hear you.”

“Shoulda tapped you sooner then.”

We talked as more people trickled in, and conversation with him flowed effortlessly. He was almost unfairly likable, the kind of person who won people over without even trying, it was no wonder he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“Yeah, I failed this class the first time around, so if I want to graduate this spring, I have to finally retake it,” Caleb sighed, shaking his head. “The Caleb failed a class? No way…” Gasping, I clutched my chest in mock shock. “I had no idea you were even capable of failure, Mr. Perfect.”

His lips twitched into a smile at the nickname, but his eyes betrayed him. He shrugged, “Well, I can do it this time around.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I totally didn’t realize I needed this credit.” I poked his hand resting on his desk with my pen, “We’re in this together.”

The professor was about halfway through the syllabus when Caleb started writing on my notebook. 

Do you have class after this?

I looked over at him, mouthing “No”. Not for a few hours, I wrote back. 

Hangout with me after this then

And that’s how I ended up sitting in the quad with Caleb, with the itchy grass prickling my legs and a sweating can of soda in my hand beneath the warm August sun. Yet Caleb’s presence was still warmer; my cheeks and stomach hurt from laughter, and every giggle of mine only fueled the fire of his jokes. 

As the laughter died down, Caleb leaned back on his hands, squinting up at the sky. “Man, I forgot how nice it is to just sit around like this on campus. No deadlines yet, no stress… just kinda existing.”

I took a sip of my soda, nudging his knee with mine. “You make it sound like you’re constantly suffering.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe a little. Gotta keep up the ‘Mr. Perfect’ image, right?”

I tilted my head, studying him. For a second, he looked almost… tired. Like there was more he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how.

“You know you don’t have to be perfect all the time, right?” I said, softer now. “You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to breathe.”

He glanced at me, something flickering in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or relief. Then, just as quickly, his signature grin returned. “Good to know I’ve got my personal cheerleader.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away. “More like your reality check.”

“Even better.” He bumped his shoulder against mine, before laying down on the ground. The sunlight hit his eyes just right, making them glimmer like polished amethyst. With his brown hair tousled against the grass and his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a hint of skin, it wasn’t hard to see why all the girls fawned over him. When it came to looks, Caleb really did live up to the whole Mr. Perfect thing.

“What about you?” Caleb glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “What’s your kryptonite?”

I raised a brow. “Come again?”

He smirked. “Your weakness. What takes you down every time?”

I pretended to think it over, then shot him a cheeky grin. “Probably failure.”

Caleb let out a soft laugh, propping his head up on his elbow. “Alright, I’m sensing some hypocrisy here.”

“It’s not hypocrisy,” I defended, shrugging. “I just fail to take my own advice.”

He tapped his chin, feigning deep thought. “Mm, no, that just makes you a hypocrite. But hey, at least you’re self-aware, Miss perfect.”

Something between us just clicked, that unspoken feeling when you know you’re going to get along with someone. Nothing about our conversation felt forced, it unfolded with an ease that caught us both off guard. I don’t think either of us saw this coming, but somehow, it just made sense.

And so it continued; messing around with Caleb in class, then hanging out in the quad afterward. Our dynamic quickly shifted from casual acquaintances to good friends as our connection bled beyond the classroom. The progression was almost rapid; natural, but undeniable.

Conversations with him came naturally, filled with dry humor, shared ambition, and the kind of unspoken understanding that made being around each other feel easy. We started saving seats for each other without thinking, sharing notes even when we both knew we hadn’t written anything useful, and lingering just a little longer after class, stretching out the moments before we had to part ways.

Afternoons in the quad turned into grabbing coffee, which turned into late-night study sessions that often had more laughing than actual studying. It wasn’t just that we got along; we started to seek each other out, gravitating toward one another like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It wasn’t just about sharing space; it was about the way we easily fit into each other’s lives like we had always been meant to.

I found myself opening up in ways I never had before, trusting Caleb with thoughts I usually kept locked away. And in return, he let me see past the carefully constructed walls he had built. 

I learned a lot about Caleb in our time spent together; I learned about his dreams and aspirations, his worries and fears, his home back in Linkon and how much of it still clung to him.

And her.

I learned about her.

MC; the kind of nickname all the cool girls had, lifted from their initials like it had always belonged to them. She was innocent, pretty, just the right balance of book-smart and blissfully unaware. The kind of girl who never had to try too hard because the world seemed to bend in her favor. She was perfect in that way, and maybe that’s why Caleb felt like he had to be perfect, too.

She had been his childhood friend, raised alongside him by his gran, their lives tangled together like roots beneath the same old house.

“She’s your sister?” I had asked, unsure of the dynamic.

Caleb hesitated, something unreadable flickering across his face. “No,” he said finally, his voice careful. “Not really. We just grew up together.”

She was everything to him, the quiet force that shaped him in ways he probably didn’t even realize. Everything he did, every careful step he took, was in her image. And suddenly, it all made sense.

The way Caleb kept people at arm’s length, the reason he didn’t have many real friends at the Academy. It wasn't because he didn’t want them, it was because a part of him was still anchored somewhere else; belonged to someone else.

Once, we had sat on the steps outside one of the buildings, his elbows on his knees, staring out at nothing in particular.

“You never really let people in.” I looked over at him, my statement coming out of nowhere.

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Was it that obvious?”

“I didn’t get it back then. Thought maybe you just had too many friends to be really close with any of them.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “It wasn’t that,” he admitted. “I just… I already had MC. Growing up the way we did, it was always just us. I guess I never really learned how to need anyone else.”

I glanced at him, but his eyes stayed on the horizon, lost in something I couldn’t see.

“You still do that, you know,” I said. “Keep people just enough away.”

He swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Some habits don’t go away easy.”

“So why am I an exception?”

Caleb exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because you didn’t try to push your way in. You just… stayed.”

I frowned. “That’s it?”

He shook his head, a small, almost self-conscious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. It’s more than that.” He glanced at me then, something raw in his eyes. “You just understand the way I think, and nobody has before.”

A silence stretched between us, thick with things neither of us knew how to say.

“You make it sound like some big thing,” I murmured. “Like I did something special.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering me. “Maybe you did.”

His words awakened something in me, an ache settling in my chest. A quiet, gnawing feeling that signaled the start of an internal war; one I never really meant to step into, but quickly became hard to ignore. A silent competition I didn’t sign up for, but suddenly felt compelled to win. 

It wasn’t against MC, not even Caleb himself.

But against the undeniable truth that no matter how close we got, I may never be the one he chooses.

September-

I barely notice the shift at first; the way August hands things off to September, smooth and effortless, like they’ve done this a million times before. Like they were always meant to meet. It feels familiar in a way I can’t explain, like stepping into a conversation that’s already halfway finished but somehow still knowing exactly what’s being said. 

Things with Caleb had settled into a familiar rhythm. On campus, we were either together or in class, our days stitched together by shared moments. Being with him was refreshing, like the first warm breeze after a long winter, a quiet promise that brighter days were ahead. Silence with him was never awkward; it was understood. He always seemed to know what I was thinking, what I meant to say, even when I didn’t say it aloud.

I’d known Caleb for a while, but the way we grew close so quickly felt natural, like we’d been moving toward this all along. It was as if there had always been a space in my mind shaped just for him, waiting for the right moment for him to step in.

The cloudy sky above turned dark with the impending storm coming, but in a rush to meet Caleb, I had hardly noticed until I was halfway to his dorm. Cursing to myself, I silently tried to manifest the rain would hold off until I got back to my own dorm later. 

It was movie day; every Friday afternoon after Caleb and I finished with our classes for the day we would have lunch and watch a movie. He was on hosting duty this week, and his dorm was on the other side of campus. If I got caught in this rain, I’d still have a bit of a walk in the storm before I arrived. 

Almost as if laughing at me, the sky cracked with lightning and thunder rumbled, and I heard the pouring of rain before I felt it.

“Shit!” I picked up the pace, my sneakers splashing through puddles forming on the sidewalks as I started to run. Thunder booming in the sky, I mentally prepared to get struck by lightning and hoped I would be eaten by the campus birds before anyone found my body. 

Trying to take a shortcut through the grass was the worst decision I could have made, as I wasn’t even two feet from the sidewalk before I slipped, landing on my back and getting waterboarded by the sky. “Argh!” I screeched, tears of frustration welling in the corners of my eyes. I sat up, glaring at the students staring at me as they passed by with their umbrellas. 

My whole body was drenched by the time I was outside of Caleb’s; my hair, jeans, and sweater caked with mud (and probably a few stray leaves). 

Making my way upstairs, my cheeks were pink from the cold and embarrassment as everyone in the building looked at me with confusion as my clothes and hair dripped all over the floor. 

Caleb swung the door open before I could knock, something he’d do as he watched for me through the peephole in his door. Looking me up and down, the corners of his mouth twitched upward as he coughed, stifling a laugh.

He leaned against his door frame, “What happened here?”

“Shut up.” I pushed past him, annoyed but a bit guilty as I continued to drip all over his floor.

“You look like a sad wet cat,” Caleb patted my wet hair, frowning when he saw I was shivering, “a cold, sad wet cat.”

He started to rummage around the room, going through his drawers and closet, pulling out clothes. Tossing them at me, he pointed to the bathroom, “Go shower, I don’t want you all soppin’ wet on my stuff.”

I glanced at the clothes he handed me; hoodie, sweatpants…his boxers? 

“Um, Caleb-”

He shook his head, “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Pursing my lips together I nodded, heading into the bathroom. I called out to him, “Caleb, do you have a towel?” 

“Just use the one in there.”

Okay, we were close, but I wasn’t aware we had crossed into this land.

Peeling my clothes from my body, I threw them into a pile in the corner. I nearly moaned when the hot water hit my skin, and basked in the feeling for a bit. I stared at Caleb’s shampoo and body wash, conflicted on if I should actually use them or just try to rinse myself off the best I could.

Feeling the mud and tangles in my hair, I accepted defeat.

By the time I was done, clad in Caleb’s warm clothes with every inch of me smelling like him, it felt like he was smothering me. Like I was enveloped in one of his bear hugs.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I felt my heart jump a bit. There was something about wearing a boy’s clothes as is, but Caleb’s clothes? 

A bit ago, I had felt the shift before I could name it. 

It’s in the way my eyes flick to my phone more often than before, in the way my chest tightens, just a little, when his name lights up my screen. It’s in the way my pulse stirs when I spot him at our usual spot in the library, twirling a pen between his fingers like he’s been waiting for me. Like he knew I’d show up (and he always did). 

And maybe that’s what unsettles me the most, not just that I notice these things, but that a part of me already expects them. Like I’ve been pavloved.

It was ignorable at first, but it’s become this nagging feeling at the back of my mind. A tugging at my heart. It’s annoying, like a mosquito buzzing in my ear that’s too quick for me to smack it away.

The feeling that I didn’t want to just be friends anymore.

Coming out of the bathroom, Caleb was already sitting on the floor in front of his bed with two cups of tea and food, and my mouth watered when I saw he made my favorite.

He smiled at me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You look pretty good in those.”

Heat crept up my neck, and I let out a nervous laugh. “You’re just saying that because I look like you.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Caleb nodded toward the bathroom. “Your hair’s still wet. Grab the towel.”

“It’s fine,” I shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You already got caught in the rain once. Stay damp any longer, and you’ll catch a cold.” Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “And I can’t be left alone in class. That’d be tragic.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel, grabbed the towel, and tossed it at him. “Right, of course. That’s all I am to you, entertainment in class.”

“For sure,” he said smoothly, catching the towel with ease. “Now sit.”

I sat beside him, reaching for the towel, but before I could take it, his hands found my shoulders, gently turning me away. I barely had time to protest before he took the towel himself, carefully running it through my damp hair.

“Caleb, I can do it myself—” I started, trying to shift back, but his grip was steady.

“Shush,” he murmured. “Let me help.”

I could have argued, but the warmth of his touch, the slow, deliberate way he moved, made it impossible to resist. My shoulders relaxed as he worked, the soft scratch of the towel against my scalp lulling me into stillness. Silence settled between us, easy and unspoken, the only sound the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window. It was peaceful, grounding. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, let myself be cared for.

Before long Caleb tugged on a strand of my hair, “Okay, done.”

“Thank you” I pinched his cheek, his lips curved upwards and his eyes went soft.

“Now, what should we watch?”

“Nothing crazy, I don’t think my brain can function right now after today.”

Caleb laughed, flicking through the movies, before settling on some random cartoon. I sighed dramatically when I took a bite of the food he made, “Caleb, you’ve outdone yourself yet again.”

He looked at me mischievously before stealing a bite, and I punched his shoulder, “You have your own!”

His phone lit up and I saw the name, looking away as he picked it up to respond to the incoming texts.

MC.

A wedge of jealousy crept up my throat. It was our movie time, and here she was, almost on cue.

I always listen—really listen—when he talks about her. About how much she means to him, how she’s one of the only constants in his life. And it stings, sharper than I expect, because I want to be that constant. I don’t say it, of course. Instead, I throw myself deeper into the friendship, as if proving my place will make it true.

I laugh at his jokes a little too hard. Memorize the way he takes his coffee without meaning to. Notice the small things that make him tick, the way his expression shifts when he’s lost in thought, the songs he hums under his breath.

The internal competition I created against her wasn’t intentional, but once I noticed it, everything about it became hard to unsee.

He sets his phone down just as quickly as he picked it up, shooting me an apologetic look. “Sorry, MC just had a question about something.”

‘That stupid question could’ve waited’, I think, irritation curling in my chest. But I shove it down, nudging his shoulder with a forced smile. “S’alright. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” He settles back into the movie, but I barely hear it now. The feeling of her lingers, clinging to the space between us, and I try to shake it off.

His presence beside me soothes the sting, like a bandage over a wound, and I start to loosen up, letting my head rest against the bed. The warmth of his clothes, the comfort of a full stomach, the quiet rhythm of rain against the window; it all starts to pull me under, drowsiness settling into my bones. My eyelids grow heavy, and I barely register the way Caleb shifts beside me.

“Sleepy?” His voice is soft, almost amused.

I peek one eye open, managing a lazy smile. “A bit.”

Without a word, he moves closer, wrapping an arm around the back of my neck. His hand finds the side of my head, cradling it gently as he guides me to rest against his shoulder. The touch is careful, deliberate, something more than our usual play punches and casual grabs in a crowd. This is different. More intimate.

For a moment, I forgot about the competition. Because my head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, and the slow, absentminded way his fingers trace shapes on my shoulder feels so easy, so natural. He watches the TV like this is nothing new, like having me this close is just the way things are meant to be. And for the first time I let myself believe, just for a second, that maybe he feels the same way about me too.

October-

There's a charge in the air alongside the change in leaves, a quiet pull I feel every time Caleb leans in a little too close or looks at me like I’m the only person in the room.

But then, there’s her.

She’s not here, but she is. Always lingering in the pauses between sentences, in the spaces Caleb leaves open without realizing it. She’s in the way his face softens when he says her name, in the light that sparks behind his eyes when he talks about her. And I hate how it makes me feel; petty, ridiculous, like I’ve stumbled into a battle I was never meant to fight.

I just can’t shake it.

Because lately, there’s been something else. An even bigger shift, subtle, but impossible to ignore. The way his hand lingers a beat too long when he passes me something, like he’s reluctant to let go. The way his gaze finds me, even in a crowded room, like I’m the only person worth looking at. The late-night texts, filled with thoughts that could have waited but never do.

Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading too much into things, seeing what I want to see. But a part of me, deep down, knows he feels this too.

My phone began to ring as I was getting ready for the Senior Gala the Academy holds every year for those graduating in the spring. 

“Yes?” I already know who it is without looking.

Caleb’s voice drifts through the speaker, soft and warm. “Are you almost ready, honey?” The pet name catches me off guard, a shy smile pulling at my lips before I can stop it. He’d started using it recently, and I hadn’t dared to question it out of the fear it would stop.

He was my date tonight (as friends of course), and I was running a little behind.

“I still have to finish my makeup, do my hair, and put on my dress,” I groaned in frustration, “I’m sorry Caleb, I’m trying to go as fast as I can.”

He laughs sweetly, “Well, I’m almost there. I can help you out.”

“Help me…?”

“Yep, Captain Caleb is gonna be there to save the night. See you soon!”

The phone clicks before I can respond, and not a moment later, Caleb is strolling through my door like he owns the place. 

I turned to face him, and my breath caught in my throat. His suit was a deep navy that matched my dress, the rich fabric adorned with his pilot and aviator pins. His hair, tousled yet intentional, framed a face that always felt like home. Caleb stood there composed, sharp but still him; and there was something about the way the badges gleamed against his chest that nearly brought me to my knees.

His gaze sweeps over my desk, taking in the chaos of makeup scattered around, before pausing on my curling iron.

“Is this plugged in?” He picks it up, inspecting it.

“Caleb, you are not putting that anywhere near my head.” I instinctively flinch as he reaches for a lock of my hair.

But he’s quick, his hand firmly grasping the top of my head, holding it still. “I always helped MC with her hair. I know my way around a curling iron.”

The words land harder than he meant, and I can’t help but squint at him, a frown tugging at my lips. He misreads it, thinking I’m questioning him, and gives me a serious look.

“Trust me here.”

I let the assumption hang in the air, letting him believe my discontent is just doubt. I sigh, giving in, “Alright, but if you make me look bad for my Senior Gala, I will hate you forever.”

He starts to section my hair and I raise my brows in approval, ‘Okay, yeah,’ I think, ‘Maybe he does have this’.

Caleb’s touch is gentle as I apply my mascara and lipstick, careful not to mess me up, his hands steady as he moves around me. It doesn’t take long before he pulls back, setting the curling iron down as I finish up with the last touches of my makeup.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” His hands rest on my shoulders as he leans down, chin lightly resting on the top of my head, both of us watching our reflection in the mirror.

I tilt my head, inspecting my hair with a playful smile, running my fingers through a few strands. “I suppose you did an okay job.”

He pinches the bridge of my nose, a mock scowl crossing his face. Laughing, I stand up, reaching for my dress hanging in the closet.

I headed to the bathroom, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

I slipped the dress on, the blue silk molding to my body, the delicate sleeves draping off my shoulders. It was beautiful, I was beautiful; but as I caught my reflection, doubt crept in. Would I look out of place next to Caleb? He was all polished perfection, and I was just… me. Not bad, but not him.

She would look perfect beside him.

‘No.’ I straightened my shoulders. ‘I’m Caleb’s date tonight, not her. He could have asked her, but he didn’t. He chose me. It’s just us.’

Fumbling with the zipper, I let out a frustrated breath before finally pulling the door open. “Caleb, can you help me with this?”

His head snapped up, eyes widening as a flush crept up his cheeks. “Of course.”

Caleb stepped forward, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed against my back. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the cool fabric clinging to my skin. Gently, he gathered the dress, his knuckles ghosting along my spine as he found the zipper.

I held my breath.

Slowly, he pulled it up, the quiet sound of the zipper filling the space between us. With each inch, his fingertips lingered, tracing the curve of my back, sending shivers down my arms. My skin felt hypersensitive, like every nerve was tuned to him and him alone.

When he reached the top, he didn’t step away. Instead, his fingers grazed the nape of my neck, adjusting the fabric, smoothing it into place. His breath was warm against my shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.

“There,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

I turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. His eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up, as if caught in some silent battle with himself. The air between us was thick, charged, pulling me toward him.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice barely steady.

His hand lingered for just a second longer before he finally let go, stepping back, but not too far. Not far at all.

I turned around slowly, my heart pounding as I met his gaze. His eyes traced the length of me, starting at the hem of my dress and lingering as they traveled upward, taking in every detail before finally meeting mine.

Caleb swallowed, his lips parting slightly as if he had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. Then, as if shaken from a spell, he smiled—soft, almost bashful.

“You look beautiful.”

His voice was quiet, reverent, like he wasn’t just saying it, but feeling it. Like the words weren’t enough to capture what he saw.

Warmth spread through me, creeping up my neck, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I’d spent so much time wondering if I looked right beside him, if I fit; but now, standing here, bathed in the glow of his gaze, I didn’t feel out of place.

I felt chosen.

“Hold your compliments until you’ve seen the whole look,” I teased, holding up a finger to silence him. “I still need to put on my shoes and pins.”

Caleb smirked. “Need help with those too?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I can manage strapping on my own heels and pinning a badge to my dress, thanks.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He plucked my heels off the dresser, twirling them lazily around his finger, his gaze practically daring me to challenge him.

I huffed but gave in, sinking into my chair. “Fine.”

Caleb knelt in front of me, his fingers warm as they wrapped around my ankle, steady but gentle as if I were something delicate. He slipped the first shoe on, fastening the strap with practiced ease.

“I can do most things myself, y’know,” I muttered, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

“I know.” His fingers lingered against my skin for a fraction too long before he reached for the second shoe. “I just like to be helpful.”

But he still wouldn’t look at me when he said it, and something about the way his voice softened made me think he wasn’t just talking about shoes.

I stood as he finished, reaching for my pins amidst the clutter of my desk and fastening them carefully over my heart. Turning to the mirror, I shifted from side to side, checking every angle, making sure everything was just right.

I glanced back at Caleb. “Are you sure I look okay?”

Without hesitation, he took my hand and lifted it into the air. “Twirl. Let me see.”

I spun for him, the silk of my dress catching the light, and when I turned back, there was something bright in his eyes, something warm, something real.

“You look more than okay,” he said, voice sure with conviction. “I promise.”

I held out my pinky. “Pinky promise?”

He grinned, hooking his finger around mine. “Pinky promise.”

“Lock it,” I reminded him, and he chuckled before pressing his thumb against mine, sealing the deal.

His fingers lingered for a second before he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Now come on, we’re definitely going to be late.”

When we arrived at the gala, it didn’t take long for Caleb to be swept away by a group of guys he often talked to. I lingered around, exchanging polite small talk with a few people I still considered friends. I didn’t see them much anymore, as most of my time was spent with Caleb.

“So, are you two dating?” one of the girls asked, tilting her head. “I thought he was seeing that girl from his hometown… What was her name again?”

“MC.” I said, a little too quickly.

“Right, that’s the one.”

I forced a smile. “No, we’re just good friends.”

But even as I said it, my gaze drifted to where he stood, laughing easily with his own friends, his posture loose and carefree. A quiet ache settled in my chest.

I wanted to be next to him.

But then again, I was; just not in the way they all saw. I knew him in moments no one else did, in the quiet spaces between conversations, in the unspoken gestures and late-night confessions.

And for now, that was enough. It had to be.

I excused myself from the conversation, weaving through the crowd until I reached one of the drink tables. Grabbing a glass, I slipped into the quieter halls, letting the hum of conversation and music fade behind me. The walls were lined with grand, extravagant paintings, each one demanding attention. I paused in front of a few, sipping my drink as I took them in, letting my mind settle.

I wasn’t antisocial, I could hold my own in a room full of people, I just needed a break from the carefully choreographed chaos of the ballroom. 

The rhythmic click of shoes against marble echoed through the quiet hallway, followed by a familiar, soft laugh.

“How did I know I’d find you out here?”

I hummed against the rim of my glass. “Maybe because you can read my mind.”

Caleb shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sometimes I wish I could.” Then, extending his hand toward me, he asked, “Dance with me?”

I glanced at his outstretched palm. “Out here?”

He tilted his head playfully. “Well, my possible mind-reading powers tell me you’d rather not go back in there.”

A slow smile spread across my face as I laced my fingers with his. “I think you might be psychic.”

The distant music from the ballroom barely reached us, muffled and softened by the grand halls, but somehow, that only made the moment feel more intimate. Caleb’s hands found my waist, warm and steady, while mine slipped around the back of his neck.

He guided us into a slow, easy rhythm. I rested my head just below his chin, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his suit.

We moved without words; his breath against my hair was the only thing I could focus on, like everything else had paused around us.

The world outside the two of us faded, the grand chandelier lights dimming, the chatter and laughter of the crowd becoming a distant murmur. All that remained was the softness of the moment, our steps in sync, and the quiet, unspoken connection between us.

I could feel his thumb tracing gentle patterns against my back, the touch soft in a way that wasn’t rushed. There was no need to hurry, no need to speak. We simply existed in this space, suspended between the melody and the quiet.

His fingers moved up to brush a lock of hair behind my ear, the gesture tender, almost shy. I looked up at him, and his eyes held mine, reassuring.

“You feel like home,” he murmured, so quietly I almost thought I imagined it.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Instead, I leaned in a little closer, savoring the rhythm of our slow dance, the feeling of him holding me like this, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter at all.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Caleb tapped my shoulder lightly, pulling away just enough for the space between us to feel suddenly too wide. It wasn’t much, but the shift left a coldness in the air, and I immediately wanted to fall back into him.

“Where are you thinking?” I asked.

He pointed toward the window. “There’s a park across the street. We could go there. Away from all… this.” He gestured vaguely, as if the chaos of the gala was still buzzing around us.

I nodded without hesitation, and soon we found ourselves at the park, sitting on an old, rusty swing set. The contrast was stark; our lavish clothes against the worn, weathered metal, but I didn’t care. My dress snagged on the rust as I sat down, but I was too lost in the quiet to be bothered by it. All I wanted was this moment, the stillness, just the two of us away from everything else.

The night air wrapped around us, cool and still, with only the rhythmic creak of the swings and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees breaking the silence. It felt like we existed in a world separate from everything else, suspended in something fragile, something fleeting.

Caleb leaned back against the chain of his swing, his fingers gripping the metal tightly as he looked at me again. That look—like he could see through me, past all the walls I tried so hard to keep up. My pulse hammered in my chest under his gaze.

“You ever feel like… you don’t know where you stand with someone?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. “Yeah,” he said quietly, but with a certainty that made my stomach twist. “All the time.”

For a second, just a fleeting, breathless second; I wondered if he meant me.

I forced a smile, trying to ease the tension hanging between us. I nudged my swing into his, making it sway slightly. “You have a really good sense of self-restraint,” I teased, the words a shield to keep myself from feeling too much. “It’s almost a talent.”

His lips curved, but it was thin, hollow—there was something sad in it. “Is that a bad thing?”

I tilted my head, watching him. “No… well, maybe. Sometimes, I guess. I think you have a habit of depriving yourself of what you really want.”

Caleb looked down, his boot dragging against the dirt beneath him. “What if I can’t have what I want?” His voice was rougher now, lower. “What if it’s not allowed?”

I reached forward, gripping the chain of his swing, giving it a slight shake to bring his eyes back to mine. “If it’s within your reach, it’s legal, and you’re not hurting anyone, I don’t see a problem.” My breath hitched, and my chest tightened as I spoke. “If I had to guess, you’re trying to convince yourself you can’t have something.”

His exhale was shaky, and a bitter laugh barely escaped him. “Maybe, yeah.”

I saw it then—the decision in his eyes, the surrender.

And then, he moved.

Caleb leaned in first, closing the space between us with a quiet certainty that made my breath catch. I barely had time to react before his lips met mine; soft, warm, real. My fingers clenched around the swing’s chain for balance, but it didn’t matter. My whole world had already tilted.

The kiss started slow, tentative, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Caleb’s hand found my jaw, his fingers brushing my skin, grounding me as he deepened the kiss. There was no hesitation, no pulling away—only the quiet urgency of something inevitable, something long overdue.

I let myself sink into it, forget everything outside this moment. The cold night air, the weight of the past few months, the uncertainty of what came next—it all melted away as Caleb kissed me like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, our foreheads nearly touching, Caleb let out a quiet, almost incredulous chuckle. His thumb brushed over my cheek, lingering there like he was memorizing the feel of me.

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us said anything—just letting the silence settle between us like something sacred.

I tried to catch my breath, still feeling the warmth of his touch all over me. “I—uh, I didn’t think that was how tonight would go.”

“Me either,” he admitted softly.

I bit my lip, searching for something to say, but my thoughts were still tangled up in the kiss. The taste of him lingered, sweet and unfamiliar, like a song you’d heard once and couldn’t forget. The warmth of his breath was still etched into the space between us, and the silence felt heavy, like it was holding something fragile; something we both weren’t quite ready to name. I felt the words sitting at the edge of my mind, waiting, but they were lost in the echo of his touch, the weight of everything unsaid.

Caleb gently brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his touch so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to break something.

There was a quiet moment, just us sitting there, the air between us charged and delicate. Caleb’s fingers brushed along my wrist, and he gave a small, hesitant laugh.

“Is it weird to say I’m kind of glad we did this here?”

I smiled, the tension easing slightly. “Not at all. There’s something nice about having a moment that’s just ours.”

He glanced up at the dark sky, the stars scattered above us. “Yeah, it’s like we’re in our own little world. Just us.”

I took a deep breath, trying to settle the fluttering in my chest. “Then let’s not rush back. Let’s just stay here for a little longer.”

He grinned, that easy smile of his, and nodded. “I’m in.”

We swayed gently, both of us still lost in the quiet, the stillness of the park and the soft feeling that somehow, things were different now. 

Better.

November-

The moment on the swings stays with me long after it’s over, a quiet echo that pulses in the back of my mind, haunting the spaces between my thoughts. It lingers in the way Caleb reaches for my hand without thinking, in the brief touches we exchange. The kiss, though, that’s the one that lingers the longest; the warmth of him, the certainty that wrapped around me like a promise. 

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t hold back.

I tell myself it was nothing, that it was just a rush, a fleeting spark that will eventually fade with time. 

But it doesn’t. 

Instead, it settles into the corners of me, a quiet undercurrent beneath everything else.

Everything is subtle at first, in the little things. His hand brushing against mine when we walk, his knee grazing mine when we sit side by side, the way his texts come more often now, careful and soft. When we’re together, it feels like we really have built our own little world, a space apart from everything else. And I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, it’s enough.

Though one night, I find him distant. His gaze fixed on his phone, jaw tight like he’s trying to hold something in. He barely speaks, his words sharp and short, his mind somewhere else entirely. I don’t ask, don’t press him for an answer. But I know.

It’s her.

And in that moment, something clicks.

I’m not the only one caught between two worlds. Caleb is, too.

The realization doesn’t ease the ache, it only makes it worse. Because if there’s a choice, I already know who he’ll choose.

Training’s getting harder, and graduation is only a few months away. The exhaustion is catching up to all of us, but I feel as if it's hitting me the hardest. Barely sleeping, too many long nights and even longer days, each one blending into the next until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I can feel my body wearing down, but I keep pushing, because what else is there to do? Let myself stop and think?

Ha.

No.

Caleb notices, though. He’s just as drained as I am, but he’s still there, watching me. He always makes sure I eat, even when I don’t feel like it. Reminds me to drink water when I forget, and always seems to be there after training, hanging around like he’s making sure I don’t collapse right there on the floor.

I try not to let it mean anything, try not to read too much into it. He’s just being a friend, right?

But it’s hard to ignore the way he lingers, the way his eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place when I sway slightly on my feet, too tired to stand straight. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand is there, steady on my arm, holding me like he doesn’t want to let go.

Caleb picked me up from the Academy airport after a training flight. We were supposed to grab lunch, but when his eyes landed on my exhausted form, something in his expression softened.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he said, his voice gentle.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the exhaustion. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just go—” But before I could finish, my body betrayed me, and I stumbled forward, barely able to keep myself upright.

Caleb’s hand was there in an instant, steadying me by the shoulder and wrapping his arm around me like he wasn’t letting go. “I think you’d fall asleep in your food and suffocate. When was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday… no, Tuesday? I don’t really remember.”

I threw on my coat, but Caleb’s gaze was still on me, studying me like he could see right through the act I was trying to put on.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, glaring at him. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry before we miss the bus.”

Standing outside at the bus stop, I shivered against Caleb's arm around me (that was still trying to hold me up). He asked me about my day, if I had eaten breakfast; simple questions that didn’t require much thinking on my part and patient, non-expectant responses from him. I pressed my body closer into his, trying to soak up his warmth, and maybe even share a bit of my own. 

He looked down at me and chuckled, ruffling my hair, “Just a bit longer, honey.”

And he was right, seconds later the bus pulled up. I was practically bouncing to get inside and out of this weather.

Snatching the window seat, I stuck my tongue out at Caleb as he situated himself next to me. “You’re evil, you know that right.” 

The bus was a welcomed relief from the biting cold outside, the warmth inside wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. My coat was serving as a blanket, and I don’t even remember when I drifted off, but at some point I found myself asleep on Caleb’s shoulder.

I half-awoke to him nudging me gently. “Hey, this is my dorm, let’s get off here.”

Groggily, I shook my head, struggling to form a thought. “No, s’okay, my stop is next…”

He chuckled softly, and I could hear the concern in his voice. “I don’t trust you not to fall back asleep and miss your dorm.” His fingers brushed through my hair to comb the strands away from my eyes, his touch tender as he looked at me. “Just come back up with me. You can sleep there until you’re good to go back.”

I barely had the strength to argue, so I let him lead me, sleepily leaning against him the entire way. By the time we reached his room, I was barely conscious. He helped me take off my coat and shoes, and without a second thought, I crawled onto his bed, curling up into a ball as sleep claimed me again.

When I woke, the world outside was dark, and it took a moment to realize where I was. The blanket was soft against my skin, and I noticed Caleb beside me, his face relaxed in sleep. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look so at ease, so… soft.

I felt a pang of guilt when I noticed the clock beside his bed. It was nearing one in the morning. He probably wanted to sleep, but I had taken over his space.

I started to sit up, but before I could move, an arm wrapped around my waist.

“Where are you going?” Caleb’s voice was thick with sleep, and I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I turned to see him blinking slowly up at me.

“I have to go home,” I murmured, my words barely above a whisper. I reached out, hand instinctively brushing his face, but then I stopped myself and pulled it back.

He toyed with the hem of my t-shirt, and I felt the warmth of his touch spread through me. I could feel myself melting under his proximity. “It’s too late,” he said softly, his voice almost a plea. “Just stay here.”

“Caleb—”

“Or I can walk you home,” he added, his eyes still half-closed, and he stretched as if to get up, but I placed my hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No, really, it’s okay.”

He smirked a little, still mischievous even through sleep. “You pick. I either walk you home, or you stay here.”

In that moment, the stillness of the night seemed to press in around us, and my heart ached. Caleb was a vice. He was dangerous.

“Okay,” I whispered, my resolve crumbling. “I’ll stay.”

The room is quiet except for Caleb’s steady breathing. The city of Skyhaven hums faintly outside, the night stretching endlessly around us. I’m awake now, but I can’t bring myself to move. Caleb’s hand rests lightly on my waist, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go. It’s nothing, really. Just a small, almost casual touch. 

But it feels like everything. 

It sets my entire body on fire, this little contact. I shouldn’t be here, not like this, not after everything. But I don’t leave. Instead, I sink back down, letting the warmth of the blanket and his presence pull me under.

We don’t speak. There’s nothing to say. No explanations, no excuses—just this fragile moment, suspended in time, hanging between us. Caleb’s breathing evens out again, his grip loosening as sleep pulls him back under. I stay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of the night. I know this is a mistake. I know when the sun rises, when the reality of the world outside finally settles in, things will go back to how they were.

He’ll wake up, stretch, rub the sleep from his eyes, and we’ll pretend like this never happened. He’ll go back to talking about MC, and whatever this—whatever we—will remain suspended in the realm of “almosts” and “what-ifs.” But for now, in this quiet moment, I close my eyes. I let myself have this, just for tonight. Because even if it means nothing to him, it means everything to me.

Morning comes too quickly.

I stir first, blinking against the soft light filtering through the blinds. For a second, everything feels warm and comforting. Caleb’s steady breathing beside me, the weight of the blanket, the quiet hum of the city waking up outside.

Then, reality crashes back in. I shouldn’t be here. Not like this.

Carefully, I try to slip out from beneath the covers, but the moment I move, Caleb stirs. His grip tightens around my waist, pulling me closer just a little before his eyes flutter open.

He looks at me, caught between sleep and consciousness, and for a second, there’s something in his gaze; a softness that makes my breath catch in my chest. But then, he blinks, and it’s gone.

“You’re awake,” his voice is thick with sleep, raspy, and it twists something inside of me. He doesn’t let go.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I should go.”

Caleb doesn’t respond at first. His fingers absently trace the hem of my sleeve, like he’s thinking, weighing something.

Then, finally—

“You don’t have to.”

It’s quiet. Hesitant. It feels like a confession wrapped in uncertainty.

I swallow hard. “Caleb…”

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just know this, this tension, this dangerous line we’re walking, is too much.

He sits up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, and then he looks at me. His expression is unreadable, and it makes my heart clench.

“Look,” he sighs, like this is some sort of explanation. “I know things have been… complicated.”

Complicated. That’s one way to put it.

I scoff and shake my head. “You think?”

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And that hurts more than it should. Because I know what I’m doing. I’m falling. I’ve been falling for so long, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to hit the ground.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper, my voice barely steady.

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Something inside me cracks.

“Then stop making me feel like I’m something you have to choose.”

Silence. And that’s when I know.

He won’t say it, but I already have my answer. Because if I was ever truly an option, I wouldn’t be standing here, begging for clarity.

I nod to myself, standing up. “I need to go.”

This time, he doesn’t stop me.

December-

It hurts, it really hurts. 

My chest aches like it’s been hollowed out, and every breath feels too heavy, too sharp. My body trembles, like it’s trying to hold itself together, but it’s already unraveling. 

Is this what dying feels like? 

Is this death? 

The slow suffocation of something that was once whole? 

Or is this grief?

Endless, suffocating grief—bleeding through my veins, consuming everything I am.

I can’t tell anymore. Only that it hurts. So much. 

I don’t even know who I am anymore. 

I feel like a hollow shell.

January-

The snow falls lightly, dusting the pavement with delicate flakes as I walk across campus. The world feels quiet, wrapped in winter’s cold embrace, but inside me? There’s nothing but noise, a clamor I can’t silence. Just as fast as everything had began, it ended just as quickly. 

I didn’t expect Caleb to reach out. After everything, after the silence between us that’s stretched since November, I thought he’d let the distance settle. Let whatever we had fade into something unspoken, unresolved.

But then I got the text.

can we talk?

And because I’m weak, because no matter how much I want to convince myself I’ve moved on, I know I haven’t, so I agreed.

Now, I’m here, waiting outside the coffee shop, my breath clouding in the cold air. Caleb’s already inside, sitting by the window with his fingers curled around a paper cup. When he sees me, he gives a small, hesitant smile. He looks the same, yet it feels so foreign.

I steel myself and walk inside.

“Hey,” he says when I slide into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” I echo, my voice flat, unreadable.

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything hanging between us.

He exhales, looking down at his coffee. “I hate how things have been between us.”

I don’t say anything, just let him speak.

“I miss you,” he admits, and for a moment, my heart stumbles. But before I can process it, he adds, “I don’t want to lose you, I want us to still be friends.”

Friends.

I should have expected this. Maybe I did. Maybe I’ve just been foolish enough to hope for something else.

I swallow, my fingers tightening around my cup. “Friends.”

He nods, earnest, like he doesn’t realize he’s twisting a knife into my chest. “Yeah. I mean, we were good at that, right? Before things got… complicated.”

Complicated. That word again.

I take a slow breath, trying to force the ache in my chest to quiet. Maybe this is what we need. Maybe being friends, just friends, will hurt less than losing him completely.

So I offer a small smile, one that feels forced but I try to make it real. “Yeah. We were.”

Relief flashes across his face, and something deep inside me tugs painfully. But I ignore it.

We can do this.

We have to.

“Are we okay?” he asks carefully.

I hesitate for a second, just a moment, but then I nod. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

And maybe, if I say it enough times, it’ll start to feel true.

We step outside together, the cold air biting at my skin. We walk side by side, but it’s different now. Less certain, more fragile. But for now, it’s enough. We’re still in each other’s lives. And that has to count for something.

February-

The cold of February feels different this year. It’s sharp, biting at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the way the distance between Caleb and me has settled; thick, suffocating.

We’re friends. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.

But every interaction feels like a shadow of what it used to be. We pass each other on campus, exchanging forced smiles, awkward pleasantries. He texts me sometimes, but the messages are clipped, casual. The playful banter, the inside jokes—we don’t have those anymore.

I’ve gotten good at pretending it doesn’t hurt. I laugh at his jokes when we’re in class together, crack a smile when he waves in passing. I tell myself that being near him, even like this, is better than nothing.

But it isn’t. It isn’t better at all.

One afternoon, after class, Caleb waits for me while I pack my things, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes meet mine, but they flicker away quickly, like he’s not sure how to look at me anymore.

“Hey,” he says, his voice quieter than it used to be.

I force a smile, but it feels too tight, too stretched.

We walk together, but the silence between us is thick. We’re not really talking anymore. Not like before.

“How’s everything?” I ask, trying to fill the space with something. Anything.

Caleb shrugs, his gaze far off. “Same as usual. You know how it is.”

I don’t know how it is. Not anymore.

“And you?” he asks, almost apologetically, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he pushes too hard.

“I’m good,” I say, too quickly. Too easily. I wish I could say something that would make it sound like we haven’t drifted so far apart. But I can’t.

The truth is, I don’t feel good. Not at all.

The rest of the walk is silent, and when we reach the place where our paths diverge, Caleb gives me a tight, awkward smile.

“Catch you later,” he says, already turning away before I can say anything else.

I watch him walk off, the weight of all the things we never said hanging between us.

It’s painful. But I swallow it down. I have to.

The days pass, and we continue this dance; one of shallow conversations, stiff smiles. Every text feels like a performance. Every interaction, a reminder that we’re no longer who we used to be.

One night, I sit at my desk, the glow of my laptop screen casting a pale light over my face. My phone vibrates on the table beside me. Caleb’s name.

I hesitate before picking it up.

hey, are you free later?

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to respond.

Yeah, what’s up?

There’s a long pause before his next message.

i was thinking we could grab coffee. but no pressure, just thought it might be nice.

The words “just thought it might be nice” sting more than I expected. It’s so casual, so simple—like the idea of spending time together doesn’t carry any of the weight it used to.

But I can’t back out now. I can’t keep pretending that I’m not still craving his company, even if it’s not the same.

Sure, sounds good.

When we meet at our usual café, the air between us is thick. We talk, but it’s like we’re strangers, circling around the things we used to share so easily. Caleb talks about his classes, and I nod, smile at the right times, but it doesn’t feel like we’re really connecting anymore.

I tell myself it’s fine. This is what we agreed to. That being friends is better than nothing.

And no matter how many times I tell myself I’m over it, no matter how many times I remind myself that this is what I chose; it still hurts.

When we part ways that evening, Caleb gives me a small, almost apologetic smile. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” I reply, throat tight. “See you.”

I watch him leave, and I can’t help but feel like a piece of myself is slowly drifting farther away.

March-

I can’t keep doing this.

April-

The months start to feel like a slow, inevitable slide into something I can’t quite escape. The air has warmed, and the snow is nothing more than a distant memory, but the silence between Caleb and me cuts deeper than any winter chill.

We still see each other every day. We still share the same spaces, the same halls, the same class. But now, we’re nothing more than shadows of what we once were. Just two people who used to mean something to each other, now standing on opposite sides of a wide, unbridgeable gap.

We promised to be friends. We promised we’d make it work. But those promises feel empty now. There’s no joy in our interactions, no spark. Every conversation is forced, every laugh hollow. We’ve become experts at pretending, at wearing the mask of “just friends,” even though neither of us believes it for a second.

I’ve tried to move on, but when I see him, it’s like a miserable cold wave crashing over me. His eyes, once warm and inviting, are distant now; like he’s holding back something I’m not allowed to know. Even though he’s still there, still around, it feels like he’s lightyears away.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, sitting alone in the student lounge, my books spread out in front of me though not really focused on them. My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the message, already knowing who it’s from.

Caleb.

I hesitate before opening it, my fingers lingering over the screen.

i’m outside the library, want to grab coffee?

My heart skips. I want to say yes. 

I want to say yes more than anything. 

But a part of me knows how this will go. Another awkward conversation. Another round of small talk and unspoken feelings.

I’m tired. Tired of pretending things are fine when nothing is fine.

I can’t, sorry.

May-

The day is warm, but there’s a crispness in the air, the kind that signals a transition; between seasons, between chapters, between what was and what will be. The hum of excitement fills the air, the kind only a graduation ceremony can bring. Students in their uniforms mill around the venue, laughter and shouts of celebration ringing through the open space.

I move through the crowd, my diploma and badges in hand, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I should feel proud, should feel accomplished. And I do, somewhere deep inside. But there’s something else, something heavier, lingering beneath the surface. The kind of feeling I’ve spent the past few months pushing away, convincing myself I’ve moved past.

Then, I see them.

Caleb stands a few feet away, surrounded by the floods of people. I notice he’s staring ahead into the crowd, and a girl comes crashing into him with the kind of ease that twists my stomach; MC.

She leans in, close—too close. And then, as if the universe had been waiting for the perfect moment to shatter the fragile balance I had built, she presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s celebratory, happy, and by the look on Caleb's face, just enough.

The world tilts.

For a second, the sounds around me blur into static, the conversations and cheers fading into the background. The weight of months of restraint, of quiet acceptance, of pretending I was fine, collapses all at once. The carefully built walls around my emotions crack under the force of everything I had tried so desperately to move past.

I thought I had let go. I thought I had made peace with everything that had happened. But in this moment, watching him, watching them, it all comes rushing back. The late nights, the quiet moments, the unspoken words that once sat between us. The way he once looked at me, the way he’s looking at her. The realization that, despite all my efforts, my heart had never truly stopped waiting.

I force my feet to move, to carry me past them, past the reminders of what could have been, of what wasn’t mine to hold onto anymore.

The weight in my chest is suffocating, but I refuse to stop, refuse to break—not here, not now. Because this is supposed to be a celebration, the closing of a chapter, the start of something new.

Maybe in another life, it was never a competition. Maybe in another universe, I don’t have to worry about her. In that world, I am her—running into Caleb’s arms, stealing his hat, and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Yes. In another universe, I am her.

I can't stop thinking about huge cock husband! katsuki HELP MEEE

katsuki knew he was big — too big, honestly.

he could tell by the way you struggled to take him every single time, your pretty little body clenching around him like you were made for him, yet still fighting to adjust — even after marrying him.

and fuck, it drove him absolutely wild.

"no wonder you walk around like you own the place," you teased, sprawled out on the bed as katsuki stripped off his shirt.

your eyes shamelessly dragged down his sculpted chest — lingering far too long where his sweats hung low on his hips. "if i had a dick that big, i would too."

katsuki froze mid-motion, his head snapping toward you, a smug grin already tugging at his lips.

"yeah?" he drawled, stepping closer to the bed. "sounds like someone's jealous."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "jealous? please. i just feel bad for you—must be hard walkin' around with all that weight between your legs."

that earned a loud, barking laugh from him, but the glint in his eye was pure predatory hunger. "oh yeah?"

his knee sank into the mattress as he crawled toward you, towering over you in an instant. "well, you're about to feel just how hard it really is, sweet girl."

your face burned. "i mean—it's just— y'know, objectively speaking..."

"objectively, my ass," he scoffed as he yanked his sweats down.

his massive, thick cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen with an obscene thump, already flushed an angry shade of red at the tip. heavy, girthy, and veiny as hell, precum leaking steadily down the length like he was aching to stuff you full.

you could see the way it throbbed, the sheer size of it always leaving you speechless — and now? watching him stroke himself lazily, his massive hand barely wrapping around his shaft while he watched you squirm beneath him?

your body was practically begging to be split open by him.

"c'mere," he growled, wrapping a hand around the base, thick veins bulging. "since you're so fuckin' interested in my dick, why don't you put it to good use?"

and that’s how you ended up riding him, stuffed full and stretched to your absolute limit, gasping as his cock bullied its way inside you inch by thick inch.

"fuck, baby," he groaned, watching as you tried to sink down on him, your breath hitching when his thick tip stretched you open. his large, rough hands gripped your hips, trying to guide you gently, but his patience was wearing thin. "so fuckin' tight, shit... you sure you can take all of me?"

your head lolled back, tears prickling your eyes as you forced yourself to sink lower, hands splayed on his chest for balance as his thick tip battering against your cervix. "i can—i can do it, suki... i need it, need you..."

the stretch burned so good, and you knew once you got past the initial ache, it would feel heavenly.

"shit... my perfect fuckin' wife... built to take my cock, huh?" he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as your walls squeezed around him, determined to milk him. "goddamn, look at you—fuckin' strugglin' to fit me in but still takin' it like a good girl."

you clenched at his words, and he felt it.

"fuckin' hell—"

without warning, he flipped you onto your back, his thick cock still buried deep inside you.

"sorry, baby," he grunted, pressing your knees to your chest. "gotta fuck my wife properly now."

and god, did he. his massive length pounded into you mercilessly, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. his cock bullied its way deep inside you, nudging against your cervix like it owned you, and all you could do was sob his name as your body struggled to accommodate his impossible size.

the bed creaked beneath you, your moans and his growls of "mine" and "perfect fuckin' wife" filling the room.

"s-suki! too—too deep!" you sobbed, your nails digging into his back. but he didn’t let up — he couldn’t. you felt too good wrapped around him, and the sight of your belly bulging slightly with the size of him only spurred him on.

"you can take it. built for me, remember? look at that—" he growled, pounding into you like you were his personal fucktoy. he glanced down, groaning low when he saw the bulge in your stomach from where his cock stretched you.

"shit, you feel that?" he groaned, pressing a large hand to your stomach. "my cock all the way up here? fuckin' made to be stuffed with me, huh?"

and when you finally came — hard and fast, screaming his name like a prayer — he followed instantly, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you. his cock twitched violently as he filled you to the brim, his grip on your hips unrelenting as he rode out his high.

but even then, he stayed inside you, watching as his cum threatened to leak out around his still-hard cock.

"mmm... ain't lettin' any of that go to waste," he smirked, leaning down to kiss you breathlessly. "gonna make sure my pretty wife stays stuffed full of me."

by the time he was done with you — filling you up over and over again, making sure not a single drop of his cum went to waste escaped your fluttering hole — you were a wreck.

and as you laid there, utterly spent and boneless, your walls still struggling to keep his cock inside, one thought burned in your cock-drunk mind:

"god, i love my massive fucking husband."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ anon, i think you got me out of my slump and put my gooning mood into good use 😵‍💫 hope you guys enjoyed 💜

WEAR HEADPHONES

NSFW

2 minutes of Caleb fingering you and then fucking you.

Excluding bgm. All audio and sfx come from the game. No Ai. 🤤😏

caleb who absolutely despises every fictional man you have a crush on growing up. he wishes those movies, shows, books, whatever it is, were wiped off the face of the planet. what does this 2d man have that he, your best friend, the one always by your side, doesn't?

celebrities make him even more enraged. he has to resist the urge to burn your dozens of photo cards that are all in one little binder. it would be so easy. the posters on your wall that stare at him every time he enters your room are a reminder that you look at them more lovingly than him. and even worse: they get to look at you.

god forbid he finds out you're reading fan fiction about them. he might actually explode. you left your laptop open and he finds posts that almost make him punch the nearby wall. you're fantasizing about being with them? romantically? sexually? he feels a murderous rage when he finds out. at least now he knows what you want in a relationship, although this is the last desirable way for him to find out.

it takes every fiber of his being, all of his strength, to keep his rage contained. his smiles are tight and forced, but you don't realize that as you gush about a new appearance of your favorite character.

but caleb loves to see you happy. he'll talk with you about anything and everything just to see you smile. so he bears it. he keeps it all in.

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

“Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

NEED THATTTT

so.. giving bf! katsuki his girlfriend bill and he pays.. WAY too much tax.

it started as a joke.

you sat on the couch, scribbling away at a piece of paper while katsuki was busy scrolling through his phone. when you were done, you slid it across the table to him with a smug grin.

KATSUKI BAKUGO - GIRLFRIEND BILL

• snacks (your girl gotta eat, and no, your portion does not count as mine even if i eat it): 500

• unlimited cuddles package (its like a warm cozy prison): 1,000

• tummy tax (you hog my tummy all the damn time, rent is due.): 3,000

• sex damages (broken furniture, excessive laundry, my LEGS, my BACK, my SANITY): 5,000

• miscellaneous (for anything i want because you love me): 8,000

TOTAL: 17,500

DUE DATE: NOW. PAY UP 💜

you leaned back, arms crossed. “you owe me, boyfie.”

katsuki stared at the paper, then at you. his eyebrow twitched. “the fuck is this?”

“since you love spending money on me, i figured i’d make it official,” you teased. “just the essentials. cuddles, snacks, emotional labor fees, suffering damages—”

he snorted, shaking his head. “suffering damages?”

“i am dating you.”

he clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. instead, he grabbed the paper, pulled out a pen, and started writing.

you blinked. “uh… what are you doing?”

“fixing your shitty math.”

you leaned over to look—only for your jaw to drop when you saw him doubling the charges and adding even more things to the bill.

• snacks (you always say you don’t want any, then eat mine)

• spa days (so you don’t stress out)

• hair and nails (because i know you like getting them done)

• shopping sprees (you never ask, but i see you eyein’ shit)

• being the best damn thing in my life (consider as future investment. i’m keepin’ you forever, dumbass)

your eyes trailed down the list, heart pounding. meanwhile, katsuki was casually typing on his phone.

a notification buzzed on yours. you glanced down—and nearly choked.

Deposit: 50,000 from katsuki bakugo

you gawked at the absurd number. “katsuki—what the hell?”

he grinned, crossing his arms. “what? you think i don’t know what you deserve?”

your face burned, your heart doing somersaults as you stared at him in disbelief, acting like he didn’t just casually triple your joke bill. "katsuki, this was supposed to be a joke.”

he leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “not to me. i’d pay more if it meant spoilin’ my girl the way she deserves.”

you swallowed hard, heart pounding. “you—you can’t just—”

“too late,” he interrupted, tugging you onto his lap. “the hell kinda cheapskate boyfriend you think i am?”

you stared at the new total, eyes wide. “katsuki—this is, like, a small fortune.”

he just smirked. “yeah? guess you’re worth it.”

your face burned.

"just shut up and take my money, sweets," his lips brushed against your ear. "tell you what—how ‘bout i add another big... tip?"

but before you could react, he was already throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about money anymore.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ been feeling burnt out lately lmao😵‍💫 didnt include any money symbols so yall dont have to go through the trouble of converting it😭 thank god my husband is rich >< trying to clear my bazillion drafts, hope you guys enjoy this💜

[nsfw!] rafayel fucking you

literally ruined my pussy while making this

Happiness Will Come To You.

andy speaks: i offer you child of ares!caleb 🤲 this was written with child of aphrodite!reader in mind 🐣 peep the hozier and love, rosie reference ><

child of ares!caleb who makes you spar with him at any given time only to lose because he got distracted by your pretty face. 

“not fair play.” he groans on the ground after tripping. “do you need help getting up?” despite his grumbles, he takes your hand with a sly smirk and yanks you down to him.

child of ares!caleb who stares down anyone who dares to talk to you. how dare they take up your time that could've been spent with him? 

his cold gaze makes the other person tremble and rush to get away. the moment you turned to face him, all confused because why did that person just run, caleb is all smiley. eyes bright and hands already reaching out to cup your face and give you eskimo kisses.

child of ares!caleb who grins like he's high off anesthesia whenever you fuzz about his injuries. he melts in your hold everytime you kiss his bruises and gashes, wishing him a speedy recovery.

he’s not above intentionally getting his lips busted just so you can smooch his pain away.

child of ares!caleb who doesn’t like you to worry too much. 

he smoothes out the furrow in your brows with a thumb, followed with a soft kiss to your lips. “i'm strong,” he assures you. for as long as he lives, you will never have to worry about losing him. even death can’t keep him apart from you. no grave can hold him down— he’ll always crawl back home to you.

child of ares!caleb who is never not in awe of your beauty. his eyes find you at all times. he stares at you with love and complete adoration, tracing your every features with his gaze like he’s tattooing you onto his mind.

child of ares!caleb who gets touchy feely. his hands roam your body like they belong there, yet he gets flustered when you do the same to him. his ears redden and his cheeks are dusted light pink the moment your fingers graze his biceps.

child of ares!caleb realizes he’s in love with you when you almost died on a mission. he grabs your wrist and pulls you into your room. 

“you could've died today.” he mutters, jaw clenched and breaths heavy. 

“but i didn't. i couldn't die when i knew someone was waiting for me to come home.”

“you drive me insane.” caleb cups your face and crashes his lip into yours. it’s rough, it’s needy, it’s desperate. he kisses you like he’s pouring every unspoken word he wishes to say into it.

child of ares!caleb who’s rough at the edges but you soften him. you kiss every scar of his. you hold him every night. you kiss him like he’s a saint to be worshipped. he claims he’s tainting you yet you welcome him with an open heart. 

child of ares!caleb who will always, honestly, truly, completely love you.

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ikaw lang

— synopsis: caleb is back, but he's different. he looks the same, talks the same—but something about him feels just out of reach, like a melody you can’t quite remember. the boy who used to piggyback you home, who cut apples for you without complaint, who always found a way to annoy and protect you in equal measure—he's not here anymore. and yet, as you watch him silently peel an apple, his hands steady and sure, you realize something. you still want him. even if he’s changed. even if he's not the same. because no matter what, he’s never leaving you again. — note/s: first post on tumblr im a bit intimidated HAHA wrote this while listening to ikaw lang by nobita and also realized i NEED filo caleb. save me filo caleb save me I NEED TO WRITE A FILO COLLEGE/HS AU OF HIM SO BAD

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

caleb has changed, you realize grimly.

he sounds the same, looks the same, talks the same—

but he's not your caleb.

he's not the same caleb who used to piggyback you home after school, he's not the same caleb who would use you as his fake girlfriend to ward off his fangirls, he's not the same caleb who would slice apples for you because you would always complain about being lazy... no.

when you look at this man's—this stranger's—face, you do not see your caleb. you see fleet colonel caleb of the farspace fleet, you see a soldier hardened by war, a man who has seen too much and lost even more.

"—pipsqueak? pipsqueakk— earth to pipsqueak? oh, there she is! hello, what has gotten you so out of it? you're staring, y'know."

caleb raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the kitchen counter like he belongs there. like this is normal. like you haven’t been standing here, silently cataloging every little thing that’s different about him.

"am i?" you blink, tilting your head, feigning ignorance. "you sure it’s not you just being self-conscious?"

"as if," he scoffs, and there—there it is. a glimpse of him, of the boy you knew, the boy who used to flick your forehead whenever you got too smug.

but then it’s gone, swallowed up by something older, something colder.

his fingers tap against the counter, a steady rhythm. you used to recognize all his nervous habits. the way he’d scratch the back of his neck when lying, the way his nose scrunched when he was about to say something stupid. this? this tapping? you don’t know this one.

"well?" he prompts. "you gonna tell me why you’re looking at me like i grew a second head?"

"you’d be lucky if that happened. then you’d have twice the brain cells," you retort automatically. safe. easy. the kind of banter you used to have.

it works. he rolls his eyes, lips twitching like he wants to smirk. "real original. you workshopping that one while zoning out?"

you shrug, moving to the fridge. "maybe."

his eyes follow you. you feel them, just like you feel the weight of his presence in this space that suddenly feels too small. he was gone for so long, and now he’s here, standing in your kitchen like nothing’s changed.

like everything hasn’t.

"you still eat those awful store-bought apple slices?" he asks, nodding toward the fridge.

"mm. got tired of cutting them myself."

he exhales sharply—something between a laugh and a sigh. "figures. lazy as ever."

you expect him to leave it at that, but then, before you can process it, he’s reaching for the fruit bowl on the counter. a knife glints in his hand, and for a second, your breath catches. not because you’re afraid—no, never of him—but because of how he holds it.

not with the careless ease of someone cutting fruit. but with the precise grip of a soldier trained to kill.

a second too late, he seems to realize it too. his fingers shift, adjusting to something more casual, more familiar.

"still want them peeled?" he asks, tone too light.

you force yourself to breathe. "obviously."

he hums. starts peeling. his movements are too smooth, too calculated, but for a moment, if you squint, you can almost pretend.

almost.

he hands you a slice without looking up. you take it.

it tastes the same.

you chew slowly, watching him, waiting for something—anything—that feels real.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable. then, softer, quieter—

"good?"

the apple sits heavy on your tongue.

you swallow.

"yeah."

you chew, swallow, and place the half-eaten slice on the counter. caleb watches, waiting for something—maybe for you to complain about how the pieces aren’t cut evenly like you used to. but you don’t. you just stare at him, this version of him, and you realize something.

you still want him.

not just the boy he used to be—the one who would throw you over his shoulder just to prove he could, the one who’d grumble about being your fake boyfriend but always played the part too well. no, you want this caleb, too. the one who stands before you now, heavier with the weight of things unsaid, carrying shadows you don’t recognize.

your fingers twitch, and before you can overthink it, you reach out. you expect him to flinch when you press your palm against his wrist—his grip tightens just slightly around the knife, but he doesn’t pull away.

"caleb." you say his name like an answer to a question neither of you have asked.

his jaw tightens. he sets the knife down, slow and deliberate. when he finally looks at you, his eyes are searching, guarded—but underneath it, there’s something raw. something afraid.

"i know," he says. and it’s barely a whisper, but you hear everything. the guilt, the exhaustion, the hesitation.

you exhale. "i never said anything."

"you don’t have to." his lips press into a thin line. "i can tell."

you consider denying it, telling him he’s being dramatic, but you’re tired of pretending. so instead, you squeeze his wrist, grounding him.

"it’s okay," you say quietly. "if you’re no longer the same caleb I knew."

his breath hitches. you feel it more than you hear it.

"because either way—" you tighten your grip, firm, unwavering, "you’re never leaving me again."

his body stills. like he’s waiting for the catch, for the conditions, for something that makes this feel less like a promise and more like a fleeting moment he can let slip through his fingers.

but you don’t take it back.

caleb swallows. his free hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

"say it again," he murmurs, voice barely above a breath.

you step closer. "you’re never leaving me again. i won't let you."

this time, he exhales shakily, as if he’s been holding his breath for years. and then—finally—he rests his forehead against yours.

neither of you move.

the apples sit forgotten on the counter.

(caleb drops a bag onto the counter with a dull thud.

you glance at it, then at him. “what’s this?”

“apples,” he says, already rolling up his sleeves.

you blink. “they’re not pre-cut.”

“no shit,” he snorts, pulling out a knife. "figured you were overdue for the real thing.”

you watch as he starts peeling—smooth, practiced movements, no hesitation. he still holds the knife like a soldier, but his hands are steady, deliberate. for you.

a slice appears in front of your face. you take it without a word. it tastes fresher, sweeter.

he smirks. “better than that store-bought crap?”

you chew, swallowing down something thick in your throat, replacing it with something lighter in your chest.

“…yeah.”)

For What You Have Tamed

ao3/masterlist

Summary: In a better world, EVER doesn’t exist. You and Caleb lead relatively normal lives, all things considered. You visit him at his frat in Skyhaven, and you attend a party together. But the same feelings still linger between you, unresolved.

cw(18+): fem reader, reader is MC, Pseudocest, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Scent Kink, PNV Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Alcohol, Cigarettes, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, frat boy!Caleb, Bathing/Washing, Vaginal Fingering, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unsafe Sex, Pet Names, Not Beta Read, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube, No use of Y/N 22.9k

Your train to Skyhaven had arrived early. Or, more accurately, in your excitement to see Caleb, you had boarded an earlier train than you had initially agreed upon with him – and thus arrived in Skyhaven a solid thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Between your own studies and Caleb’s, you weren’t able to visit him at college as much as you would have liked – and certainly less than Caleb would have liked. Still, you made do with daily video calls, texts, and voice messages. You stepped out of the train with a vague sense of uncertainty lingering over you. With Caleb, it was always a toss up as to which role he wanted you to play, and with whom. Little sister? Girlfriend? So much time had passed that it was unclear if it was really a role at all. He used both epithets in tandem. Caleb didn’t see anyone else, and neither did you. You tried not to let these thoughts linger, and let them pass along with the coolness of the summer breeze that kissed your skin. It was almost too warm at the station, the kind of warmth that feels like it's living just under your skin, not quite able to get out. Pulsing dully with the excitement in your blood.

It was just some hours beyond dawn, when the sun had begun to hang itself in the sky, climbing to its apex with the hurriedness of an unbothered cat. The outdoor station was never crowded around this time, occupied by only a few other stragglers of the morning, dragging their feet to obligations unknown. Nothing dragged behind you, save for your suitcase, and the tote bag slung over your arm. The latter was ancient, with a silly smattering of rainbow paper airplanes on it. Caleb had given it to you ages ago, and you had never stopped using it. Your things swam loosely inside, free as birds. Since you were early, you opted to find a place to park yourself while you waited for Caleb. You checked your watch. It was the athletic kind, one with a tiny screen. Not quite the newest tech that the Hunters were using – you weren’t quite there yet. You didn’t have the heart to replace it with a new one, though. The watch confirmed what you already knew – you had thirty minutes before the impending arrival of Caleb. You looked up, intending to choose a direction, but there was, quite abruptly,  a big shadow blocking your view. A big shadow belonging to someone tall. Up your gaze went, over a pair of dark combat boots, cargoes, and a broad chest – wearing a cream colored cut-off t-shirt. Into a face filled with fondness, a pair of pretty purple eyes, ripe like the flesh of figs. Your brother’s full mouth was smiling at you. His dark hair was pinned down to his forehead with a baseball cap, which he wore backwards. His smile broadened as you looked, showing you his one crooked canine amongst otherwise straight teeth. 

“Since when are you an early bird, Pips,” Caleb cocked his head, hand on his hip.

“Is there a worm you’re trying to get?” 

He made a motion with his finger, like that of a worm inching along the ground. You couldn’t help the laugh that came out of you at his stupid joke. Caleb looked very pleased with his triumph. You moved closer to him, and poked a similar finger into his chest. The muscles of his pecs gave way under your touch, and you couldn’t help but spread your hand over them, instead. His necklace glistened with the newfound highness of the sun.

“Who’s the bird and who’s the worm here, huh?” You squeezed him again, unable to help yourself. Caleb hummed, clearly happy with your attentions. Without warning, you were crushed into an embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you like a big-brother vice. You were enveloped in the summer of his scent, the sweetness of fruits, the smell of wheatgrass, the cleanness of his sweat. His voice was close to your ear, tickling it. 

“Whether I’m the bird or the worm – doesn’t matter. I’m already yours.” 

Caleb’s familiar youthful cadence, which had never quite seemed to catch up to his body, sent a cascading line of electricity down your spine. His hands slid down your lower back, encompassing it, until they had landed neatly into your back pockets. 

“Caleb,” you groused,

“We’re in public.”

 It felt good, but you were still smack in the middle of a public train station, nevermind the daily uncertainties of your relationship. Caleb was still for a moment. He gave your ass the tiniest of squeezes before acquiescing, pulling back from you. He didn’t look guilty at all. Instead, he took your tote from your shoulder, slinging it over his own. Your suitcase came from around behind you, like an obedient, rectangular animal, with the help of Caleb’s evol. He grasped it in his hand. His face told you he almost, for just a moment, wanted to say something in opposition, but he relented instead, tone airy.

“Very true, Agent Pip. There’s not another soul alive who deserves to see my pretty girl like this. C’mon, let Caleb whisk you away from pryin’ eyes.”

His hand that wasn’t grasping the suitcase took yours, slotting your fingers together. His palm was so warm that it was nearly uncomfortable, but you had no desire to remove yourself from him. He urged you on with his touch, shortening his long strides so that you could follow him more easily. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s just like when we were kids. Except now you’re the one who wants to hold my hand, huh?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you, and then back ahead. The suitcase he was rolling behind him made a loud sound as it bumped over a rock on the sidewalk.

“It’s a little different now though, dontcha’ think?”

Caleb asked a question, but he sounded like he was making a statement, instead. He squeezed your hand, firm. An answer escaped you. You were unsure if he even wanted one. You were saved from having to ponder your response for much longer, though. Caleb had led you to his car, parked next to a meter that was filled up with a suspicious number of minutes. You eyed it, feeling certain he must have been sitting here for some time, in typical Caleb fashion – totally unable to relax, predicting every outcome. He always parked here when he came to get you, because the street was just adjacent to the station. You swept your eyes over his car, appreciating its familiarity. It was a beautiful ‘68 Ford Mustang – a Coupe, in a bright, apple red. Caleb had fixed it up into near perfection himself, tinkering with it in Gran’s garage before he left for college, face smeared with engine grease. By all accounts, it seemed as if he had just washed it, save for some leaves that had haphazardly fallen on the windshield, the gifts of nature from the nearby trees. Caleb busied himself with putting your things in the trunk. He could have easily used his evol – but instead he made a show of lifting your suitcase, muscles rippling under his skin. His skin was a healthy tan, aglow with the kiss of a new summer. It made the freckles of his face stand out. He was as handsome as ever. You wondered if he was still rejecting paramours left and right, despite your continued place as his ‘girlfriend.’ Surely he must be. Caleb shut the trunk, and adjusted the cap on his head. He came around to the passenger’s side door, and held it open for you expectantly. 

“Your trusty steed awaits.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. You came around the car, and slid inside through the open door. You nudged his arm with your elbow as you passed by.

“If this is my trusty steed, what does that make you?”

Caleb buckled you in, just like he always had when you were children. His hands adjusted your seatbelt over your chest, your hips. They lingered on your thighs, and then went downwards, to squeeze your kneecaps.

“That depends. Which Caleb do you want me to be today?”

He lingered in the open door, expectantly. His gaze on you was unwavering.

“The Caleb that you want to be. Not the Caleb you think I want you to be,”

You wrapped your hand around his thick forearm. Your fingers couldn’t touch on the other side.

“Dummy.”

Caleb seemed to think for a moment, his head tilted. Then, he shut you in without warning. Your knees had gone cold without the warmth of his hands. He reappeared on the driver’s side, and tossed his hat into the center console before getting in. 

“What I want is what you want, baby. Nothing else.”

The car came to life under his touch as he spoke. You watched his hand turn the key in the ignition. You reached to adjust the air conditioning, but Caleb’s hand knocked yours away, directing it at you so that you would get cool air. You wanted to smile, but you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you poked his bicep.

“Right now, you’re Stubborn Caleb.”

Caleb turned to you, and made a show of flexing the bicep your finger had come into contact with. It was as if he got bigger and stronger every time you saw him. You tried to force away thoughts about just where you’d like that bicep to be, and instead focused on him speaking. 

“And my lil’ green apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

He sounded like the statement pleased him. You watched him as he began to drive, pulling the car into the street. Its emptiness almost seemed odd contrasted with Skyhaven’s towering, black skyscrapers, passing you by like dark strangers. The red of the car reflected brightly in their glass, like a passing blood stain.  Caleb’s strong hands gripped the wheel, and you admired the span of his forearms, watching the muscles shift subtly under his skin as he drove. The alternating light of morning lit his features, but it was cut off in intervals by the passing of skyscrapers, so he was cast equally in just as much darkness.

“You’re starin.’ It’s just like when we were kids,” he echoed your earlier statement.

“It’s a little different now, don’t you think?” you said, echoing him back.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you as he stopped at a red light. His hand found its way back to your thigh as he spoke.

“Yeah, pips. I do.”

He squeezed your thigh, as if affirming his words, though his voice, to your ears, betrayed a hint of uncertainty. The car pulled through as the light turned green again, and Caleb changed the direction of the conversation along with it, as if passing through a portal.

“So,” he rapped his fingers on the wheel,

“You hungry? You haven’t eaten yet, riiight? You got here so early, I bet you skipped it.”

You shuffled your feet on the floor of the car. The flexing of your thigh made Caleb’s hand move up and down, and his thumb drew idle circles on your skin through the fabric of your pants. You regretted wearing them now, because he wasn’t touching your skin directly. You nodded to answer his question, not wanting to confirm out loud that the reason you had skipped breakfast was to catch the earlier train to see him.

“I knew it,” he singsonged.

 “So, what should I feed you? Did you wanna pick something up, or should I whip somethin’ up back at the house?”

His hand was drifting up your thigh as he spoke, as if he wasn’t casually asking you about food. You tried to ignore the fingers that were creeping closer to where you wanted them.

“Oatmeal,” you blurted. Caleb looked surprised, his eyebrows raising a tick. His smile told you he was about to tease you for the simplicity of your choice, so you added an addendum.

“It’s just better when you make it.”

Caleb’s smile widened. He mussed his hair with his hand, driving with his knees for a moment, and it only made his cowlicks stand more on end. Even with hat hair, he was stupidly handsome. His hand went back on the wheel.

“Well, when you put it like that, how could your wish be anything but my command?”

In any other circumstance, staying in a frat house for any period of time would be an altogether horrifying prospect. Not so with Caleb, however. He was part of ΒΘΠ, a fellowship of brothers who all shared the goal of becoming pilots, on top of getting their current ambitious degrees. (Caleb, for that matter, was majoring in aerospace engineering.) Given the niche scope of interest, it was a small congregation. The rules for entry were strict, too. All the men involved were required to maintain a high GPA, positive social standing, attend charity events, and make all manner of community efforts. Caleb, who had rushed and nearly been immediately accepted when he entered college, now unofficially ran the place like it was the military. From what you had gathered from your semi-frequent visits, Caleb was popular and well-respected among the brothers – if not more than a little feared. His seniority in the frat had earned him his own room, finally having graduated from a double. You had some vague inkling that he conducted the rituals the frat was involved in, being as secretive as he was – though he pretended not to be. You tried not to pry, though you were certainly curious. Of course, Caleb took all of this in stride – finishing his education, becoming a pilot, hosting charity events and parties, working, sending you more money than you needed back home  – you had no idea where he found the time or energy for it all. When you had inquired after it, he had simply stated he could take one look into your face and find all the motivation he needed to pursue his goals. Looking into his handsome face was like injecting liquid sunshine laced with cyanide into your veins. You couldn’t imagine what he saw when he looked into yours. You had always been his little shadow, after all. Stepping into his light still burned.

The frat house was located not far from campus, nestled among rows of other similar houses with similar frats. It wasn’t exactly modest, but it wasn’t extravagant, either. Due to its highly competitive nature, it only boasted about ten rooms, even less of which were occupied by young men. You eyeballed it through the window as you approached, as Caleb pulled the car into the drive. It was a neutral sort of gray, with classic white pillars and window frames. Once, you had caught Caleb directing some of the newer brothers to power wash the exterior after a particularly nasty storm had left it dirtied. It was clearly well maintained, down to the clip of the yard. You could practically imagine Caleb on his hands and knees with the other brothers, working the dirt, bending the earth to his will. 

Said bender of wills took his hand from your thigh, which had stayed firmly in its place the entire car ride. He unbuckled himself, and then you, without a second thought. Habits of his that never quite seemed to die. Not that you wanted them to. As he reached over you, you could practically feel the heat that radiated from his skin, even without touching him. In the winter, he was like a space heater – and in the summer, he was something a little more sinister. 

“Stay,” he commanded.

“I’ll come ‘round.”

Caleb exited the vehicle, and came around to open the door for you. As you stepped out, he spoke, shutting the door behind you. 

“The boys know you’re comin,’ so they’ll be–”

“On their best behavior?” You finished for him. You had visited plenty, but Caleb was always quick to assure you that you had nothing to worry about. He smiled at your interruption, his eyes glittering.

“That’s right, baby. You don’t even need me to tell you, huh?”

He walked around to the back of the car, and you watched him as he went. His broad back, shoulders freckled from the sun. He walked like his dick was big, even from behind. Well, not like it was big. It was big. You screwed your face up at your own thoughts, shaking your head. Caleb freed your suitcase and tote from captivity in the back of the car, and shut the trunk. As you watched, it occurred to you that Caleb had left his hat on the console. You opened the door back up, and rescued it from its near-abandonment. Caleb reappeared before you, tote and suitcase in hand. He looked curiously at the cap in yours. You gestured for him to crouch, and he did so, offering you the crown of his head. You placed the cap back atop it, backwards, as it was before. Your fingers brushed against his ears. Caleb righted himself, looking much like the cat who got the cream, his mouth set into a small smile.

“Helpful girl.”

He gestured to the front door with a jerk of his head, and started towards it. 

“C’mon. Let’s put something in your stomach, yeah?”

Caleb’s word choice wasn’t lost on you, though you could never be quite sure if it was intentional or not, being Caleb. He was just like that. You followed after him to the doorway, and he produced the house keys from one of the many pockets of his cargoes. There was a little keychain he always kept on them – a gift from you – shaped like the radiant sun, cast in a yellow gold. Whenever you picked up his keys, it dug uncomfortably into your skin with its sharp points. It made a familiar clinking sound against the rest of the metal that made you feel like you were coming home, rather than visiting. Caleb pushed open the door, and led you inside. He parked your suitcase and tote in the entryway. You shut the door behind him, locking it. When you turned back around, Caleb was kneeling before you, his fingers going for the laces of your boots. 

“Caleb, you don’t have to–”

“I know, I know. You’re a big girl now, and you don’t need me anymore. Just indulge me, okay? It’s not that I have to. Maybe I miss doin’ stuff like this for you. When you were a kid, you’d purposely double knot your sneakers too tight so that I’d help you untie them. Just tying them for you wasn’t enough.” 

Caleb’s fingers worked open the double knot of your laces as he spoke. He tugged the boot from your right foot. The motion made you unsteady, and you instinctively reached out for his shoulders to steady yourself. They were sturdy under your touch. Your abdomen was square in Caleb’s face, and he leaned forward, pressing his face into your stomach. He inhaled loudly against your shirt. You swatted at his head halfheartedly, and your fingers dragged against the material of his cap.

“I’m all sweaty. I stink.”

Caleb shook his head against your stomach, burying his face there for a moment longer. His voice was muffled by your clothes.

“You smell good, pip. Your sweat, too.”

Your shoes were momentarily forgotten as his hands found a more suitable place cupping your ass, pressing you harder against your face. He moved his head down, down, until his mouth was just below your groin, nose pressing against your jeans. He looked up at you, inhaling against you with purpose. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to unzip your jeans, and put his tongue inside of you. But you were more concerned with his future than your momentary pleasure.

“Caleb,” you hissed,

“What will the guys think if they see you with your little sister?”

Caleb pulled back, his hands dropping back to your laces. He made quick work of them, shucking your shoe off and setting it aside next to its partner. He looked back up at you as he started on his own boots, a little smile on his face. His eyes were like a dark purple flint, sharp and calculating. 

“They’ll think whatever I tell them to think. Besides,”  

His boots went next to yours, and they could have been twins were it not for the largeness of his own. He stood back to his full height, and took your suitcase and tote back in hand. 

“You’re not my little sister.”

The delicate venom in his words twisted the arousal in your stomach into a creature that could only crawl on its belly, down through your legs, and into the ground through your socked feet. This was Caleb, both sides of the coin. Introducing you as his sometimes girlfriend, sometimes sister. Whatever suited him, whatever he needed you to be. You wanted to clutch at both titles, and you hated it. He denied you both. You followed him into the kitchen. He deposited your things neatly beside the marble island. 

“We’ll bring your things up to my room after you eat. You suuure all you want is oats? I picked up all kinds of stuff that you like before you came,” he said, as if he hadn’t just denied all of your worldly connection to him. Your appetite, which was already small this early in the morning, flagged. He opened up the big, silver fridge. It was the kind that had a water dispenser on the left side of the door, with an ice maker inside. The kind that only wealthy people had in their houses. Or, so you had thought when you were kids. The refrigerator at your home in Linkon was small and white, humble. Much more empty, without Caleb to fill it. 

Before the house, at the orphanage, you couldn’t even remember a refrigerator. 

You looked at the contents inside. It was stuffed to the brim, bursting with vegetables, meats, sauces, and all kinds of prepped meals. You recognized the containers that Caleb used to prep his meals, now. He had started doing it in highschool. Chicken and rice, sometimes a green vegetable. Nothing like the flavorful, thoughtful meals he was feeding you and Gran. 

How else can I be your reliable pillar of strength?

You looked at him, and opted not to answer his question, instead offering him another one in return.

“What about you? Are you going to eat?”

Caleb turned back to you, shutting the refrigerator behind him. He shook his head, looking as relaxed as ever under your scrutiny. 

“I ate way early this morning. Doesn't do me any good to workout fasted, you know? So, oats? Not eggs, pancakes, bacon, waffles…”

You eyed him, weighing the truth of his statement. You would have preferred to eat with him, especially after not having seen him for nearly a month – but he seemed for all the world to be telling the truth. You relented, slotting yourself into one of the uncomfortable metal stools that sat on the side of the kitchen island. You didn’t like that island. The white granite seemed kind of sterile, cold.

“Just oats,” and thinking the better of it, you added,

“Please.”

This caused a raise of Caleb’s eyebrows. He whistled, high to low. He rummaged through the pantry as he spoke, producing a bag of oats. It was the expensive kind, you could tell. Not the kind in instant packets or the cardboard tube, but the nice one in a bag that rich hippies liked, with some smattering on the back about ‘ our story.’

“Did you just say ‘please?’ Was my pip abducted by aliens in the last thirty seconds? What happened to the little girl who wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water?”

You watched as Caleb’s hands measured out the perfect portion of oats into a cup, and then put them into a pan. They were vascular hands, warmed by the interior of the house. When he flexed them around the handle of the pan, they stretched and compressed, like the formations of new lakes. My pip, he said. You resisted the urge to tell him that the little girl he mentioned had died in that old house in Linkon, and her heart was buried under the floorboards. He’d hear it there, if he came back to visit more often. Maybe it would haunt him, your little heart. It sounded like him. Thump. Thump. Thump.  

Instead of telling him where your heart lived, you sang a rhyme at him, the kind he’d read you from little archaic picture books as a child.

“She went to market, to market, to buy a fat hog,”

Caleb measured water into the pot after the oats, and set the flame of the stove alight with a click-click-click . He turned back to you, a wooden spoon in hand.

“But then she came home again, home again, right? Jiggety-jog.”

Caleb connected the back of the spoon with his palm, and it made a satisfying smack that echoed in the kitchen, like it was accentuating the truth of his words. You watched as his fingers naturally curled around the utensil, into a resting position. He made the very normal sized cooking spoon look puny. The image of Caleb smacking you flashed through your mind. You had smacked him plenty as a child – but he had never once raised a hand to you. Not like that. You wanted it to be you in his palm, instead. You flattened your own palms against the cool marble of the island counter, hoping it would take some of their heat away. It was painfully cold, in a good way. You tilted your head at him. 

“And where should she go home to?”

Caleb fixed you with a firm look before speaking.

“The one I make for her, of course.”

He turned back to the oats, which seemed to be bubbling. He stirred them with the spoon, and adjusted the flame. You watched as the little blue fingers of it were made smaller under his touch, licking eagerly at the bottom of the pan.

“Just you wait, baby. I’ve got it all lined up so I can take care of you. You’ll never have to want for a thing. Least of all a home.”

Caleb sounded so sure that you almost wanted to believe him. He really did seem to have plans in place that you weren’t aware of. But you were in school, too. Soon, you’d take the Hunter Exam. It sounded like an attractive prospect. But you grounded yourself in reality, not fantasy.

“You make it sound like you’re going to marry me or something. Surely you have more attractive prospects than your…”

The words little sister nearly left your mouth, but you held your tongue. Caleb’s earlier words still blanched your skin like the water that boiled the oats he would feed to you. He fetched a bowl from the cabinet. You searched for better words, but found none. You were saved by the sudden entrance of someone into the kitchen, having come down from the stairs. You jerked your head up to look. It was one of the brothers who was closest to Caleb - Liam. He was a man of tall stature, though not quite as tall as Caleb. He had a dark face with eyes that seemed wet with perpetual worry. His hair was cropped short, buzzed at the sides. A presence that was quiet, unobtrusive. He met Caleb’s eyes before yours. They exchanged a look. Liam spoke first.

“Your sister’s a little early. Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

Caleb merely nodded at him. You saw a tightness in his face, in the set of his eyes. Liam turned to you, and nodded, offering no words. You nodded quietly in return. It was always like this, with him. You knew he meant no offense – it’s just how he was. Liam retrieved something from the refrigerator – a bottle of something – and disappeared from the kitchen without another word. You watched him go, enveloped as he was in his own unique quiet. Movement from Caleb made you turn your attention back to him. He busied himself with the coffee machine, as well as the electric kettle. The oats bubbled, as did the kettle and coffee machine. The world’s smallest symphony of consumption, courtesy of your big brother. He produced two mugs from an adjacent cabinet. You regarded them curiously. One, you recognized. It was a soft shade of ivory, and boasted a charming image of half of an apple on its side. The other, you didn’t recognize. It was orange, and had a picture of a snail scooting along, as if he had somewhere very important to be. You almost wanted to ask, but your lingering question hanging in the air stopped you from doing so. 

Caleb put a tea bag into the snail cup, followed by the hot water. The coffee went into the apple cup. Both were placed before you.

“Coffee: black. Tea: no milk.” 

He was using his comms voice, as if he was repeating back something air traffic control had said to him. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you. Caleb grinned, and turned back to the oats, portioning them into the bowl with the help of the spoon.

Onto the island before you it went, and he stirred it with a new, silver spoon, one meant for eating off of. You peered over the rim. By the looks of it, he had added all kinds of extras. Milk, butter, salt, brown sugar, cinnamon, blueberries…and whatever else he did that made it taste so good.

Maybe it was just better because he had made it for you.

Caleb pushed the bowl toward you expectantly. It was a simple, white, ceramic. 

“Eat,” he encouraged. 

“Otherwise you might blow away. There’s supposed to be a storm tonight. Maybe even earlier.” 

As if you had planned to do literally anything else with the meal before you. When you were a kid, the storms would send you careening into the little coat closet, stuffing yourself up against the big coats and long forgotten mothballs. Rather than try to coax you out, Caleb would climb in after you, and curl his big body over yours. His legs caged your thighs, like bulwark against both yourself and the storm. He would talk endlessly, about anything, to distract you. When he ran out of things to say, he would make up stories – which he was terrible at. 

Once upon a time, there was a little princess, trapped deep in the dark, surrounded by moth-bunnies and big, big coats. But a great knight, who was very handsome and tall, came to rescue her from the dark. When she lifted his visor to see his face, it glowed radiant like the sun – and all the darkness was cast away, and she was no longer afraid.

When he ran out of those, he still had one thing to fall back on – the natural sounds of his body, which never failed to finally lull you into a state of calm.

Just listen to my heart instead, pipsqueak. I’m right here. I’ll always be by your side.

You spooned the oatmeal into your mouth. As expected, it was delicious. Your usual packet-milk combo just couldn’t compare. You swallowed, and pointed your spoon at Caleb.

“And you might blow away if you insist on subsisting on nothing but your prepped meals.”

You gestured to the fridge instead, where the perpetrators sat in their glass containers, silently awaiting their master to retrieve them for their dark purpose. 

“Mm..it would take a lot more than that to knock your Caleb down, I think.”

He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, and his eyes followed the motion of your spoon moving from your bowl to your mouth. He didn’t wait for your retort before he spoke again.

“I’m going to bring your stuff up to my room while you finish up. No rush.” Caleb gripped your suitcase and tote, and headed towards the stairs. His room was on the top floor, with a balcony that could be used to survey lesser passers-by on the sidewalk, if one so chose. You hurriedly scraped at your oats, and sipped at the last dregs of your coffee and tea, instead of watching him go up the stairs like you wanted to. There was a series of thuds as you listened, coming from the direction of his room. As you scarfed at the last of your meal, Caleb reappeared from the stairwell, and swept the now empty bowl from your hands with his evol, floating it into the sink, along with the snail and apple mugs. They were like a strange parade of little soldiers, bobbing up and down, going into their metal trench. A watery doom. You reached for your bowl as it went instinctually, but let your hands fall. Caleb just laughed. Your body wasn’t far after this procession, and you were lifted into the air by the reflective blue fractals of Caleb’s evol, over the kitchen island, and into his waiting arms, like a princess. 

“Caleb!”

He nodded resolutely, heading for the stairs once again, clearly charmed with his cargo in tow. All of him enveloped you. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

He leaned closer as he went up the stairs. Your ear kept bouncing up near his lip with his movements, and he spoke softly into it. 

“Just kiddin.’ You can say it all you want. I like it when you call my name.”

You shuddered reflexively. 

Caleb brought you through the open door to his room, which proudly boasted his last name in big letters: XIA. 

His room was decently sized, though a simple affair. It had become clear to you that Caleb lived a more spartan lifestyle than you realized after you started visiting him at college. The room sported a desk, which contained some of his study materials, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, and a queen sized bed. Nothing lined the walls. The only decoration it sported was a few model planes along the shelf, and a photo of the two of you on the nightstand. It was his favorite – the one where you were on his back, looking over at the camera. For a college student's room, it was fastidiously clean – nevermind a frat guy. You made a mental note to bring him something to liven it up, like a plant. Or something. Anything, really.

Caleb’s evol shut and locked the door behind you. Instead of setting you to your feet like you had expected, he set you delicately into his bed, on top of his plain white sheets. He crawled in after you, tossing his hat on the bedside table, and slotted himself behind you, a big breath leaving his body. You fit perfectly against the shape of him, like you were meant to be there. His big arm wrapped around your front, just below your breasts. It was still early, and there was a cascade of the sun’s rays coming in from the balcony windows, onto the place where your bodies met. It was hard to differentiate what was the warmth of Caleb’s body, and what was the warmth of the sun. You nudged him gently with your elbow.

“Are we going back to bed? This isn’t like you, mister up-and-at-em.” 

You found yourself whispering, as if there were some reason to whisper, now that you were in his room. Caleb huffed warm air against the back of your hair. He whispered, too.

“You’re right. But when you’re around, I can finally relax, pips. Makes me sleepy.” 

He curled himself tighter around you as he spoke, just like he used to, in the darkness of the little closet. You could feel his dick getting harder against your back. Neither of you mentioned it. You stayed like that for a time, and you felt Caleb’s breathing become more even. Your own eyes fluttered. You thought he must have fallen asleep, but he spoke groggily against your neck.

“Not sleepy?”

You shook your head against the pillow.

“Not not sleepy. Just not asleep yet.”

Caleb’s hand stroked up and down your upper arm soothingly. 

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

His voice sounded teasing, and you weren’t quite sure how serious he was being. You had always told him his voice sucked when you were younger. In reality, his singing voice soothed you more than anything else. He was a good musician, too. Even if his ukulele playing had annoyed you when you were kids.

“Yeah.”

Caleb was quiet behind you. You thought that he might not actually want to sing – but he started just as soon as you opened your mouth to make a joke. You listened quietly as his soft voice floated over the summer air in the room.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est belle?”

You recognized this. A little french lullaby from your childhood, one he would sing to you often. Especially when you couldn’t sleep, when the rain pelted the windows of that little house in Linkon, and the thunder shook its walls.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est gai?

Dites-moiPourquoi,Chère mad’moiselle,”

You let your eyes slip shut. Your body relaxed into Caleb’s, and he held you closer. The last of the song tickled the back of your neck with the vibrations of his voice. His fingers stroked down your forearm, gently petting you.

“Est-ce queParce queVous m’aimez?”

When you drifted, you fell into a dreamless sleep, lulled by the last of Caleb’s voice, and the warm grasp of his hold.

You woke to a harsh clap of thunder, your eyes forced open by the sound. You were momentarily disoriented. This was not your ceiling. Not your bed. Definitely not your room. You sat up, trying to get your bearings. Directly in your line of sight was the form of your brother, illuminated only by the orange light of his desk lamp. He was absorbed in something, his pen spinning over the knuckles of his right hand as he pondered. His left hand was over his mouth, rubbing at his jaw. Even from this distance, you could hear the soft sound of his skin scraping against the stubble there. The warmth from the light almost made his eyes swell with the pink that swam in the bottom of his irises, like the rising fresh of blood underneath thin skin. He turned towards you, and his eyebrows raised as he saw you sitting up, straight as a board. He crossed the room you in nearly an instant, pen dropped, and work quickly forgotten.

Your heart clattered against your ribs again at the sound of the thunder, and you gripped the sheets. It had been a long time since you were the little girl who crawled into the closet to hide. Caleb stood over you, looking extra tall from your low vantage point on his bed. You wanted to crawl inside of him, instead of the dark closet. Be surrounded by his warm insides, safe. Right next to the perpetual beat of his heart you’d curl, wrap your hands around its valves. Sink your teeth in.

“You alright, pips? Thunder still psychs you out, yeah? I’m here.” 

He sat on the edge of the bed, adjacent to you. The weight of his body caused your own to move just a bit closer to him. You frowned at him. Something wanted to change in you. You didn’t want to be the scared little girl in his eyes, anymore. You were an adult now, and so was he. Soon, you’d be on the field, taking out Wanderers and keeping the people of Linkon safe. You’d long been over your fear. You crawled around Caleb instead of answering his question, or going into his arms, like you so wanted to. You slipped from the bed, and went to the glass door of the balcony. 

Your hand slid the door open, feeling like it wasn’t quite a part of you as it did so. It was only raining lightly, but the clouds above were an angry swirl of blues and grays, threatening to turn torrential, like great ships tossed at sea. You saw lighting clash in the belly of them, and the sound made the hair on your arms stand on end. Still, you needed Caleb to see that you weren’t that little girl in the closet anymore. You had unstuck yourself from him, from the beat of his heart, from the stories of knights and princesses. You took a step out onto the concrete of the balcony. It was icily cold against your bare feet, and the smell of the rain whipped into your senses in full force. You had half expected Caleb to drag you back inside, but he didn’t – neither with his evol, nor his hands. Instead, he came out after you, a presence behind your back. He hadn’t touched you, but you felt the warmth of his body there. He was quiet.

No rain touched you. Not even a single drop. You checked your clothes, your exposed arms – nothing. Dryer than the day you were born. You cast your eyes above you, back to the sky. Suspended around you were the bodies of hundreds of little raindrops – unable to reach their destination on the earth. They domed around you, like a soft, watery cocoon. In them, you saw hundreds of tiny reflections of your own confused face. You turned around to Caleb, who looked down at you in turn. He didn’t even have a hand raised to keep the drops at bay. So precise was his control over his evol that he no longer even needed to gesture. As you watched, the droplets formed a little ring above his head. In a flash of lighting, they looked for a moment like a bright halo around him. Then, it was gone. Words came to your lips, and you let them fall. You didn’t hold them, like Caleb with the drops.

“You don’t need to protect me from raindrops.”

Caleb’s eyebrows raised. He sounded teasing.

“You tellin’ me what to do, now? This isn’t the way I’d like to see you get wet, princess.”

The feeling his words aroused in you only served to anger you more. It was what he was always doing – trying to redirect you, to get you to think about something else entirely, to let him keep control. 

“You can’t protect me forever, Caleb.”

You hated the way he could command the sky, the very air, all things. Making things fly, crushing them under the weight of his mind. To give you wings, or clip them. It was just as the way he treated you – like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to let you fledge, or keep you caged forever. Never quite choosing a real label for your relationship. Neither were real, fabricated upon nothing but your mutual rapport. There wasn’t even any true blood between you. So what was there, really? 

Still, when you looked up into the lilac of his eyes, his perfect nose, chapped lips – you still saw the face of your brother. The face of the man you wanted to love you as more than a sister. You wished desperately that Caleb would let the rain fall, let it wash these thoughts from you, baptize you in your own fears to chase away your desires.

But he didn’t. 

The raindrops orbited around you, like hanging toys on a mobile. Caleb blinked at you, like he didn’t understand your question.

“Why not?”

Caleb’s dog tags reflected the rising blackness of the storm, as you looked.

“Because I don’t need you–”

Caleb interrupted you. His eyes flashed with a streak of lightning. 

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?”

All at once, the droplets began to fall around you again. You were instantly soaked. Your clothes and hair stuck to you, seeping the last of your body’s natural warmth from your skin into the air. In the time Caleb had been stopping the rain from hitting you, it had begun to come down even harder. The feeling of it all hitting you at once stung with the harsh whip of the water’s chill. Caleb stepped forward, until you were forced against the metal railing of the balcony. It dug painfully into your lower back. He pinned you there, with his body, hands on either side of you on the metal bar. Even with his clothes completely soaked through, his skin was impossibly warm. You could see the expanse of his skin underneath the wet material of his white shirt, the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Caleb’s voice began to sound frantic, higher pitched.

“Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. Do you want me to drop out of college, and move back home? I could get a job back in Linkon. Anything. We could have our own house, just you and me. I’ll build it for you. You can become a Hunter. Or, I can make you disappear. It’ll just be us, forever. You’ll never have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.”

Caleb’s face was mere inches from yours. He smiled through his words, eyes turning up at the ends, as if what he was saying pleased him, excited him. But his pupils were tiny pricks, lost in the storm of his eyes. Your body began to shudder from the cold. His words had stopped making sense. This wasn’t the Caleb you knew.

“Caleb…”

All at once, he seemed to come back to himself. Whether it was your shivering or the call of his name, you couldn’t be sure. His pupils drank up more of his irises, and his voice returned back to its normal, boyish cadence. 

“Shit, baby, look at you. You’re soaked. Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him any longer, nor mention the sudden change in his demeanor. He didn’t even seem to care that he was also soaking wet. His skin had lost its usual flush, and was pallid instead. After seeing the look on his face, something like cold resignation settled into your stomach. He slid the balcony door open again, and his evol gently ushered you inside, a little push at your back. You took a few frozen steps, until you were dripping in the center of Caleb’s bedroom. Caleb rushed in after you, and hurried into his bathroom. He reappeared a moment later with a towel. He draped it around your head, and ruffled your hair. 

“Do you want to take a bath? I’ve got this big room now, so I have one. Or do you want me to blow dry your hair?”

You let stillness sit between the two of you for a moment before you answered. There was something you needed to know, first.

“You want to take care of me that badly?”

Caleb seemed to sense your resignation, and that the honesty of his answer mattered. He didn’t try to subvert, change directions, or control. You felt the sincerity in his response, the youthful insecurity in it.

“I don’t just want to take care of you. I want to be the only one who takes care of you. The only one you need.”

The towel dropped from you, onto the floor at his side. You had already made your decision.

“Then take off my clothes.”

Caleb looked into your face, for just a moment, as if looking for something there. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. His expression turned into something unreadable. He gripped the hem of your shirt.

“Lift.”

You lifted your arms above your head. Caleb tugged your wet shirt away from your skin, and the cold kiss of the air hit your chest. He tossed the garment aside. He squatted, face level with the zipper of your jeans. His big hands unbuttoned the button, slid the zipper down. His touch was sure, unhurried. His evol lifted you just off the ground so that he could tug the jeans down your legs. It was no easy task, considering their dampness from the rain, but he managed it with some measure of grace. One leg, and then the other. Caleb had lifted you like this countless times before, but it struck you, as you were left in nothing but your bra and underwear, suspended a few inches in the air, Caleb crouched below you, just how powerful he really was. The man who had you suspended in the air with the sheer power of his mind was knelt before you, adhering to your whims. Stripping you at your behest. His clothes and hair were still dripping wet. His evol set you to your feet, and Caleb stood back up. You looked up at him, feeling more sure that he would go along with what you wanted, now. He always would.

“I want you to give me a bath.”

Caleb said nothing, at first. This was a face of his that you recognized. A sort of eerie stillness about him, a barely repressed anger – or maybe eagerness – burning him up, just under his skin. Like the water would evaporate off of him because of it. The room had become so dark for the storm that you could hardly tell the state of his eyes. In the low light, their usual purple almost looked black.

“Okay, baby.”

Caleb stood next to you, and his big hand came up to grip the back of your neck. Somehow, even with the state he was in, his skin was still warm. He applied a little pressure, guiding you forward towards the bathroom, wordlessly. You complied, the feeling of his casual dominance making wetness collect between your legs. Even when he was complying with what you wanted, he was still somehow in control. You went into the little bathroom, and he stepped in behind you, shutting the door. It was much similar to the bedroom – spartan, save for Caleb’s toiletries. The tiling on the wall was a pea-flower blue. It reflected distorted images of your own face back at you as you looked. Caleb gestured in front of you. You followed his finger with your eyes.

“Sit.”

You sat. The porcelain of the toilet was cold on your bare skin, but you didn’t complain. Caleb shed himself of his clothes under your gaze, leaving him only in his boxers and necklace. His muscular thighs flexed as he moved, imbued with the natural grace that only athletes could boast of. He knelt in front of the tub, right next to your knees, and turned the knob, running the water over his hand. When he deemed it acceptable, he plugged it up, and let it run. The sound of the running water echoed loudly in the small room. He turned towards you, still squatting. He lifted his hands towards your chest, and paused, as if seeking your permission. You put a foot on one of his big thighs. It was a stark contrast to the cold floor. 

“Are you going to give me a bath in my underwear?”

Caleb laughed softly, sounding in between exasperation and arousal. His hands resumed their mission, coming round your torso to unhook your bra. It took him a few tries, but it finally came free, and he slipped it from your arms, setting it aside. He shuffled backwards just slightly, taking your foot from off of his thigh with his hand. You knew him well enough, after all these years, to understand his intention. You stood, so he could access your underwear. For the third time that day, Caleb’s face was level with your groin. You looked down at him, and he up at you. He held your gaze as he hooked his fingers into your underwear, and pulled them from your hips, down your legs. You kicked them aside when they reached the floor. Still, Caleb didn’t look where he could have looked. Instead, he licked a flat stripe over your right hip bone, then your left. His tongue was warm, wet. He lapped at the place below your navel, at the junction where your hips met your legs. Further he went, slipping his tongue in between the natural fold of your thigh, not quite in between your legs, but enough that you could feel his breath hot against your sex. The places where his tongue left saliva behind on your skin felt cool against the air. You felt your abdomen clench, and your hand went for his soft hair. It was still soaked from the rain. You yanked at it, which earned you a little moan from your brother. You weren’t sure if you were directing him towards you, or away. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted – what you needed from him. He pressed his lips harder against your stomach, and then loudly blew a raspberry there. It tickled terribly, and you pushed back against his head in retaliation, trying to keep from laughing by pressing your lips together. He smiled up at you.

“I thought you wanted me to give you a bath?”

Caleb moved backwards from you as he spoke, and flicked a finger. You were in the air again, in the gentle net of his evol. It made a low hum every time it appeared, like a predator that was warning a lesser creature of its presence. He lifted you into the tub, into the warm water, and then shut off the faucet, his evol leaving little red flecks of its traces behind before disappearing entirely.  Your knees peeked just out of the water as you bent them up. It was blessedly warm, compared to the chill of the air from the rain. Your shivering finally began to subside as you sunk deeper into the water. You looked up at Caleb, who had taken up residence on the edge of the tub. He was reaching for a loofah that was hanging on the wall. It was a bright, pepto-bismol pink. You poked his thigh with an accusatory finger, remembering his licking.

“What are you, a dog?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. He was squeezing a copious amount of his own soap onto the loofah. It was unscented – it just smelled clean. The same way Caleb always smelled. The idea that you were going to smell like him brought you a sick sense of satisfaction. Even under the water, you could still feel the places where his tongue had touched your skin. He began to scrub away at the sensation with the loofah, starting just below your neck. Suds pooled in the little wells of your collarbones. You resisted the natural urge to cover yourself with your hands. Caleb had certainly seen you naked many times before – and even now, you wanted him to see you naked. You wanted him to see you differently. You turned your body more in his direction, giving him easier access.

“Well, you’ve collared me, at least.”

Caleb spoke through an exhale of a breath, sounding strained. His necklace clinked as he moved to wash you, like it was proving his words. He lifted your arms, washed you underneath your armpits. You held them up for him. It tickled, just a little. When he let down your arms, you looked into his face.

“So you’ll never run away from me?”

Caleb titled his head, smiling. The downturn of his eyes seemed even softer in the yellow of the overhead light. The loofah went over your breasts, under them, between them. You wished he would wash you with his bare hands, instead of the soapy barrier. He moved down to your stomach. You watched the little trail of bubbles it left behind as he went.

“Even if your dog is bad sometimes, he’ll never leave you,” his hand drifted between your legs. He scrubbed. Up, down. Up, down. You wanted him to slip his fingers inside of you under the water.

 “Starve him, beat him within an inch of his life…nothing could take him from your side.”

Caleb started on your legs. He washed your thighs, and leaned down so that he could scrub behind your knees. He slipped his free hand behind there, after the loofah, thoughtfully. He looked at the suds on his hand. Then, he moved to your calves. You lifted your legs for him, to make it easier.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Caleb. You do enough of that to yourself, already.”

Caleb grasped your foot in one of his big hands. Rather than the loofah, he used the residual bubbles on his hand to scrub it, top to bottom. Your foot jerked reflexively, but he kept it still in his firm grip. He grinned at you as he went for your other foot, showing you his one crooked canine again. 

“Do you remember what Chaucer said about those with heads of glass?”

He repeated the motions on your other foot. You tried to recall what Chaucer said, what he wrote, instead of thinking of Caleb sinking his teeth into the meat of your calf. You pulled it from your dregs. The hot water was beginning to make your mind feel sluggish.

“What, do I need to be aware of ‘hostile stones that pass?’ Will it be you who throws them?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Of course not. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

His job. Of course. As your brother. The air left your lungs like wind from small sails. It was the same thing he had been saying since you were kids. Your memories of being adopted with Caleb seemed to be some of your first. Before that, it was a deep, black quagmire. Your eyes grazed the length of his right arm, the one he was using to wash you. There was a big, spidering scar at the base of his shoulder. The tendrils of it reached out against his skin, stopping at the base of his deltoid. You hated that scar. You were the reason for it. When you were teenagers, you had gotten into some kind of stupid argument with Caleb after school. It was something so meaningless that you couldn’t remember what it was about, anymore. You had stormed off, and in your irritation, walked right into a busy street. You hadn’t seen the light change. You didn’t even see the truck – but Caleb did. Back then, he had yet to achieve full control of his evol. He pushed you out of the way, and his body took the brunt of the force, the rest absorbed by his control on gravity. He was hospitalized for weeks, but had still remained sun-shinier than ever. You had escaped with only a few scrapes. He constantly had visitors – friends, admirers – even strangers seemed to flock to his natural glow. You heard the whispers. They couldn’t understand why he would jeopardize his flawless participation in sports, his future, his extracurriculars, all for his gloomy little sister. 

Well, you didn’t understand either. Caleb had recovered in record time, pushing himself to the limits in physical rehabilitation, sweat beaded on his brow, face unable to hide the exertion and pain. He never told you the extent of the injury. You had only heard the truth of it from Zayne, whose parents worked for the same hospital at the time. He was there frequently, and saw Caleb’s struggle. In reality, he had experienced major damage to the nerves in his arm – primarily the median nerve. While he had recovered the use of it entirely, the majority of his sensation in his right hand was forever lost to him. Caleb paused his scrubbing.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, you know.”

You slid your wet hands up his arm, leaning up from where you were sitting in the bath, until you were caressing the thickest point of the scar on his shoulder. Caleb’s body tensed, then relaxed. His broad chest rose and fell evenly with his breaths. You pressed down on the scar. Caleb grunted, though his face betrayed nothing.

“Liar,” you whispered.

It should have been you.

Caleb only smiled, and picked up your hand from his scar by your wrist. He pressed a kiss to the inside of it, before returning it to you. Your skin prickled in the wake of his touch.

“Time to get out.” 

You eyed Caleb. His hair, which had been wet from the rain, was beginning to frizz up from the humidity of the bathroom. You held up your index finger, and let some water from it drip on to his knee. 

“What about you?”

Caleb blinked.

“I’ll shower after.”

Somehow, you felt that if you let this moment slip between you, it would be lost to you forever, like the water in your fingers. You reached for the plug, and uncorked it, letting the water begin to drain. You turned back to Caleb.

“Let’s shower together.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered with something imperceptible. He watched the water swirl down, down, down into the drain, revealing more of your wet body to the cool air. 

“If I say yes,”

His eyes returned to you, sitting in the now empty tub. They were harder than before, unreadable.

“Will you tell me I’m the only person you do this kind of thing with?” 

You stood from the now empty bath, and reached for the knobs.

“Do you think there are other men who I let give me baths?”

You had been with other men. Men who looked like Caleb, granted. They didn’t smell like him, or act like him. But when they were inside of you, you could imagine it was your Caleb, loving you the way you wanted him to. Sort of. 

Caleb’s evol beat you to the knobs, gently lifting you out of the way of the shower spray, so you were floating just above it. The air was warmer, higher up. He smiled up at you like you were a pretty bird, flying above him.

“I don’t want to think about you with other men. Ever.”

Caleb stood up from the side of the tub. You watched, suspended naked in the air, as he peeled his boxers from his body. Even while soft, he looked big. He had a nice dick. A really nice dick. You wanted to put it in your mouth. He stepped over the edge of the tub, and pulled the curtain shut behind him. Satisfied, he directed your body down into the shower spray in front of him, so it was hitting your back. He held the backs of your arms gently as you came down, ensuring you wouldn’t slip. The water hitting your back rewarmed you, and wet some of your hair. You were suddenly acutely aware that Caleb was close. Very close. In the small space of the shower, he seemed even bigger than ever. 

“When did you get so big?” you blurted, gripping at his biceps with both hands. Caleb merely laughed, and lifted his arms for you to have better access to grope him. Your hands slipped easily from his biceps to his triceps, tracing the visible outline with your fingers. He sounded amused by your question. Or was it wry? It was hard to tell with Caleb.

“Around highschool, which is about the same time you stopped hugging me as much, and crawlin’ into my bed at night to chase away your nightmares.”

Caleb caught your hands as they moved from his triceps to his chest, and put them down gently by your sides.

“If you keep feelin’ me up like that, I won’t be able to focus on washing you or me.” 

You could feel the heat from him as his cock hardened between you, against your stomach and lower abdomen. If you had taken a single step forward, it would have been pressed against you. It was impossible not to look. You looked down, admiring it, how far it reached up the span of your abdomen. The thick vein on the side. Caleb let you look.

He reached for the soap, but you took it from his hands. 

“Let me do it.”

You squeezed a generous amount of soap into your hands, rubbing them together. You could have used the clean wash cloth that was hanging there, clearly intended for Caleb – but you didn’t. You lathered it between your fingers, instead. You had expected him to deny you, but Caleb said nothing. He just looked at you with dark eyes, watching your hands and face. You started with his collarbones, as he had you. Tracing them, then the dip in his clavicle, pressing there with your fingertip. You were close enough that you could hear the breaths he took through his nose, even over the sound of the shower. You moved down to his pecs, massaging them experimentally. He made a sound that seemed, to your ears, like a release of tension. Then came the scar on his right arm. You massaged your fingers into it, along its spindles and spires, and Caleb’s breaths stuttered and caught, though he made no move to stop you. The scar was raised and sort of tough, like it had all kinds of angry knots lurking below the surface. There was a part of you that wanted him to hurt – that wanted to punish him for sacrificing himself for you. You punished yourself, by extension. He was your brother. As much yourself as you were. You looked into his lovely, purple eyes. They were blown wide with the breadth of his pupils. 

“Does it hurt?” 

You hardly heard your own voice over the sound of the water. 

“Yeah,” Caleb breathed.

“But it’s you. So it feels good, too.”

His voice was rough, the end of the statement sounding like an admission of guilt. You looked down. Caleb’s cock was twitching and flushed, a pretty red. You released your hold on his scar, and washed his abs, instead. Your hands rolled over them. His physique was ridiculous – and you knew all too well the limits he pushed himself to maintain it. Strength and beauty had a price, as was the way of all things. His skin twitched under your touch. Down you went, until your hands were flush with his v-line, just above his dick. You avoided it, and instead knelt before him, massaging the soap into one of his meaty thighs. You looked up.

Caleb was making that face again. That anger, eagerness. 

You could see the precum leaking from his cock, as it was flush with your face. Instead of putting your mouth around it like you wanted to, you washed his calf, and then the top of his foot. You repeated the same routine on the other side, but stayed kneeling. You peered up at him. The water pounded your back, and soaked your hair. It was falling as such that it kept plugging up your nostrils, making it hard to breathe. Nearly as soon as the thought had crossed your mind, Caleb was helping you to your feet by your forearms. Or rather, he picked you up by your forearms, and switched your positions, lifting you like you were a doll, so that he was standing with his back to the water, and you stood facing him. 

“If you stay down there, you’ll drown,” he said, hoarsely. 

You stared at him. You had practically been offering to suck him off then and there. He rinsed the soap from his body with military efficiency, like his dick wasn’t hanging heavily between his legs. 

“All finished?”

You nodded, dumbly. What else could you do? Even while the both of you were stark naked, it was just as it had always been. Caleb, hard around you, from touching you. Both of you ignoring it. Just two bodies. Not two feelings. Nothing more than a response to stimuli. Caleb shut off the shower, and the faucet pin echoed loudly in the now quiet room. He opened the curtain. You stepped out first, and Caleb was quick to follow. He handed you a towel from the rack, and then rubbed one on himself, his hair. You watched, enraptured, as he adjusted his dick so that he could wrap the towel around his waist. Seemingly satisfied, he looked up at you.

You dried yourself quickly, as if your staring was somehow the worst offense that had occurred between you. Your normal shower routine wasn’t exactly at the forefront of your mind. The heat began to feel too much. You quit the bathroom quickly, and were hit instantly by the comparatively cool air of Caleb’s room. You had spent a long while in the hot water, and your head pounded with the rapid change in temperature. Your feet felt unsteady, and you took an unsure step forward, which nearly sent you curling into yourself onto your knees for the headrush. But Caleb was behind you, anticipating your needs before you even knew them yourself, like always.

“Whoa there. Don’t go anywhere on me, now.”

You leaned back into his broad chest. He was still damp, solid and unwavering.

“Caleb,” you breathed. It was somehow helpful just to say his name. It cooled the heated air from your mouth.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

The towel, no longer supported by your hand, dropped from your body. You felt Caleb begin to reach for it, but you turned around, and pressed yourself to him instead. His body was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. He never stopped radiating an otherworldly heat, even when it was freezing outside. Your tits squished against his lower chest, your face turned to the side, near his heart. It pattered a rhythm, strong and quick. You wondered how big the heart of such a large man really was. You made a fist against the place where his heart lived. Surely, the size couldn’t compare. You were strangely jealous of the thing that pumped his life through him, all day, every day. You wanted to be just as close, all of the time. The necklace you had given him had to do it in your place. You were jealous of the piece of metal, too. Caleb’s hands hovered for a moment, as if unsure, and then rubbed up and down your bare back, the sound of skin against skin loud to your ears. 

“I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool when you’re like this, pips.”

Caleb’s voice sounded calculated, soft. Like there was more to what he was saying than just his words. He squeezed your hips, thumbs digging in. In the time you had been against him, you felt him harden underneath your stomach all over again through his towel. You wrapped your arms around him, and dragged your nails over the skin of his back, up and down. 

“What if I don’t want you to keep it? Maybe I want you to lose control.”

Caleb hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your nails on his back. His body pressed harder against yours, grinding his cock against the soft skin of your stomach through his towel. He leaned down, so that his lips were nearly against your ear. His teeth grazed your earlobe.

“Use your words, then. Say, ‘Caleb, I want you to lose control.’”

Gooseflesh erupted all over your body, under Caleb’s fingers. You licked your dry lips with your tongue, trying to find the saliva to wet your words. The truth came to you with some difficulty. 

“Caleb, I…want you to lose control.”

That was all it took. Caleb dropped the towel from his hips instantly, and he picked you up, gripping your ass. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, and clung to him. You half expected him to take you to the bed – to literally anywhere else – but his fingers were grazing between your legs as you held on to him, your position leaving you just the right amount of open for him. 

“Better hold on tight,” he teased, though you knew there wasn’t a chance of him dropping you, between his strength and his evol. Just one finger teased your slit, then pressed you open, wasting no time in going knuckle deep inside of you. His finger was thick and long, and filled you up in a different kind of way than your own. Your body clenched around it of its own accord.

“Shi-iit, you’re so wet. Is this all cause of me?”

He didn’t seem to care whether or not you answered – maybe because he already knew the truth. Another finger joined the first not long after, and he made scissoring motions between moving them in and out, like he was trying to do extra work to stretch you open. Your thighs began to shudder with the effort of holding on to him. Caleb seemed to sense your distress, because he walked you effortlessly to his bed, and leaned down so that he could deposit you there on your back. He stood between your open legs at the edge of the bed.

It was the first time you had seen his face since you had put your body against his. He had the look of a man who was teetering on the edge, who had just gotten something he had been waiting for for a long, long time. His fingers were still inside of you, and he added a third, leaning down to spit in between your legs to make the glide easier. You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly alarmed by the situation. The other men in the house were definitely home, and these walls were definitely thin. Nevermind that they called you his little sister. Caleb pulled your hand away from your mouth by your wrist. His fingers inside of you didn’t relent.

“Nah, none of that. Be a good girl and let me hear you. Talk to me.”

He leaned over you, fingers still working you impossibly open. You pushed against his chest, which did absolutely nothing to dislodge him.

“Caleb,” you hissed, “the walls — what if someone hears–” 

“They’re insulated. No one will hear, princess.”

His fingers curled inside you. You dug your nails into his chest, and they grazed over the scar on his right arm. He flinched, almost imperceptibly. 

“Liar,” you breathed.

Caleb hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“You can call me whatever you want,” his free hand squeezed your tit roughly, rolling it between his palm. He pinched your nipple between two fingers, tugging on it. The other received the same not-so-delicate treatment. 

“Liar, Stubborn Caleb, Dummy Caleb,” his teeth sank into your neck, for just a moment. He licked at it, speaking against your skin, close to your ear.

“...big brother. It doesn’t matter. I’m the one who’s fucking you, no matter what you call me.”

You clenched around his fingers, and wished it was his cock. You felt him smile against your neck. He leaned up, and withdrew his fingers, slowly. You ached, suddenly empty of him. Above you, in between your open legs, he was the picture of masculinity. A sheen of sweat coated him, and his dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Between his legs, his cock hung hard and heavy. You sat up, feeling it was unfair that he was the only one who had touched you. You raked your fingers down his chest and abs, and wrapped both hands around his cock, smiling up at him. He bucked into your hands, a low whine coming from his throat. He threaded a hand through your hair, pulling on it, just enough to hurt.

“Fuck, your lil’ hands look so cute wrapped around my cock like that. I want to take a picture. Can I take a picture? Just for me, pips.” 

Had it been anyone else – anyone from your past – you would have instantly said no. But Caleb had never done anything to break your trust. He could be a liar, but not like this. His lilac eyes were big and honest, imploring. You nodded.

“Okay, Caleb. Just for you.” 

A bright smile erupted over his face, and his dick twitched in your hands. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. So good to me, huh?”

His evol brought his phone to his hands from the nightstand, and he made quick work of taking a photo, lining up his phone at the perfect angle to capture both of your hands wrapped around his leaking cock. He stared at it. 

“I’m gonna cum just from this,” he grumbled, and tossed his phone aside. You twisted your hands around him, and he pulled your hands away from his dick in response. He held you by your forearms, and pulled you close, leaning down so that he could speak into your face. 

“Don’t do that, baby. Be a good girl so Caleb can fuck you, yeah? Lay down. I want to see your pretty face while I’m inside of you.”

You complied, scooting backwards until you were lying back against one of Caleb’s pillows, fully on the bed now. You watched with interest as he opened the bedside table drawer and produced a bottle of lube. It was unopened, and he tore the plastic off of the top with his teeth. He spit the plastic out of his mouth onto the floor. You snickered, and he grinned at you. You pointed to the lube.

“Going through so much lube that you just bought a new bottle?” 

Caleb rolled his eyes at you, squeezing a small amount directly onto his cock. 

“No. I bought this for us. Just in case. No one else has ever touched me but you.”

He fisted his cock roughly in his hand, like he hadn’t just casually revealed that information to you. You gaped at him. Not only had he never been with anyone else, but he had purchased lube in preparation for the day you actually had sex. Your brother, who wasn’t your brother. He had been anticipating it – or at least been hopeful.

“No one else? Are you serious? But you have people practically hanging off of you constantly. I thought for sure…” 

Caleb shrugged, and crawled over you on the bed. It creaked under his weight as he nestled himself between your thighs, holding himself over your face. His necklace dangled between you.

“So? I don’t want anyone else wrapped around my cock but you. It makes me happy that you’re jealous, though.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not jealous,” you lied. Of course, you both knew it was a lie. Caleb smiled a knowing smile. He pushed down on his cock with his index finger and thumb, and lined himself up against you. 

“Not jealous?” He sounded smug, in the way that only men with big dicks could. His cock rubbed against you, slipping wetly between your legs, not fucking you. The lube made the sounds even wetter, more lewd. 

“No – because you’re my b–” you stopped yourself. Something in between the words big brother and boyfriend was about to fall out of your mouth. Caleb pushed the head of his cock inside of you, and nothing else. You tried to lift your hips into him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Your what? Your…b-b-boyfriend? Orrr…” Two of Caleb’s big fingers took the necklace that was hanging in your face and pushed it past your lips, into your mouth. He leaned down on his forearms, so that his whole body covered yours. His voice took on the same edge he used to tease you when you were kids.

“Your big brother? Is that what you were gonna say, baby?” 

As he spoke, he snapped his hips up inside of you, bottoming out. Between the feeling of him filling you up and his necklace in your mouth, it was impossible for you to answer. You could only breathe around the metal, trying to get used to the feeling of accommodating his size. He stroked your side with his hand, squeezing your tits, rolling over your ribcage. His cock twitched inside you, again and again and again. You whined. Caleb immediately began to move. 

It was like he couldn’t help but set a punishing pace, hips snapping into yours with loud smacks that could definitely be heard through the thin walls. Your body was moved up and down against the mattress with the force of it. He fucked you open, the pleasure arching out from between your thighs, all the way into the tops of your feet. Caleb growled a command into your ear.

“Open your mouth.” 

You did so, the dog tag still inside. He lifted his head, and made a motion with his jaw. He let spit drip into your mouth from his own, covering the necklace, wetting your insides with himself. You sucked on it.

“Good girl. You take everything I give you so well. Makes me wanna stuff up all of your holes. Fuck.”

Caleb pulled the necklace from your mouth, and tossed it behind his back. He replaced it with his mouth on yours, in something that was hardly a kiss and more like a close exchange of spit. He licked your tongue, pushing his against your own, sucked at your teeth. His cock hit you in a way that was just right, and his fingers moved in between your legs, encouraging you towards release with a focus on your pleasure. You moaned into his mouth, earlier worries about disturbing the other boys forgotten. He swallowed your sounds up with his mouth, encouraging you.

“I know baby, I know. C’mon, you can do – it.”

As his hand worked you, Caleb leaned up, pulling one of your feet towards him. He licked from the bottom of your sole to your toes, sucking them into his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, filthy, and wet. You were so lost in him that the combination of his hands and mouth all over you crested you over the edge, and you were cumming around his cock. Your voice was calling his name, and Caleb rocked into you harder, holding your legs open below your knees to give him better access. His sweat dripped onto your chest.

“You want my cum? Ask me for it. Say ‘Pleeease.”

You hardly had words. Finding ‘please' seemed a herculean task.

“Please–”

Caleb paused his movements, stilling completely with just the tip inside of you. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

“Please, what?”  

He didn’t sound much more composed than you were. You gave it your last bit of energy.

“Please, Caleb!”

Caleb grunted, and slammed his hips back into yours, all the way inside of you again. The sound of you begging for him seemed to push him over the edge.

“There you go. Shit, take it–”

You felt him spill inside of you, and he clasped his strong arms around your body behind your back, putting his full weight on you as he came. He kissed your face sloppily, missing your lips. He licked at the tears in the corners of your eyes, and kissed you there, lips dragging across your face. You stayed there for a time, both blissfully catching the breath you had lost between you, enjoying the newfound closeness.

You laid your head on Caleb’s sweaty chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart. The sound itself seemed devotional, under your ear. He pressed a kiss to the top of your scalp, and inhaled. You spread a hand over his taut abdomen, and it shuddered under your touch. He was tan from the summer, and had a cute tan line from his shorts. He must have started running shirtless when it got too hot. You petted the soft hair of his happy trail. It was the same dark color as his hair. You watched his cock. It was still hard, somehow, and twitched with interest under your attention. You poked it with an accusatory finger.

“I didn’t know you were into feet.”

Caleb laughed, a bright, happy sound that shook his chest, making your head move up and down with his movement.

“I’m not, really. I’m into you. I’d lick any part of you – the bottoms of your feet, your asshole, whatever.”

You paused your poking. The heat that had only just begun to die down from your skin rose back up, against your will. Did he hear himself?

“Caleb.”

He adjusted his legs, so one knee was bent up, comfortably. The room smelled like him, like sex with him. It put you deeply at ease. 

“What? I’m dead serious.”

He ruffled his hand through your hair, exposing your scalp to the cool air, lifting your hair so that some of the heat could release from it. You leaned into his gentle touch. His voice became softer, imploring.

“Do you wanna come to a party tonight, pips?”

You turned towards him, supporting yourself with a hand propped up on his chest. His handsome face was still flushed with exertion, lips extra pink. Adoration was unabashedly clear in his eyes. You cocked your head at him, wary. You didn’t mind a party, but a frat party was a whole other animal. 

“What kind of party?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked down to your lips, roving over your face. He pressed a kiss to your lips, licked them. Then the sides of your mouth, your temples. He pulled away to answer. His lips shone wetly.

“A toga party. I know it’s not usually your thing, buuut you might have fun with me, right? I’m not gonna drink, so you can get lit, and I’ll take care of you, yeah?” 

You stared at him. You just knew he was going to wear a sheet as a toga, and that his hat, which followed him everywhere, was going to accompany it. You put a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your smile at the image. Caleb grinned, too, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“Can I take that cute smile as a yes?”

You sat up, feeling the dried sweat on your body. Caleb’s cum was still inside of you. You felt it leak onto the sheets as you sat up. You needed a shower, desperately. Caleb, clearly upset at the loss of contact, put his hand on your knee. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles.

“Fine. But we have to shower again. Separately.” 

Caleb nodded sagely, stroking an imaginary beard.

“Right, right. If we showered together again, I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t even be able to walk to the car.”

You smacked his firm bicep, which only made him grin wider in response. 

“Feisty girl, aren’t you?”

Caleb let you shower first – alone, this time. Counting the one you had taken before getting on the train this morning, this was your third shower today. Maybe some kind of new record. Of course, there was the fact that you had sex with Caleb. You watched your reflection in the mirror as you dried your hair. You had sex with Caleb. Not only that, but he had only ever had sex with you. You had fully expected him to have experience with other people – he was wildly popular, after all. You wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest. A weight was lifted, in a sense. But the same issue still nagged at you – even now, you didn’t know where you stood. Were you attending this party as his sister, or his girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned it. You needed to know how to act, but couldn’t quite find the words with which to ask right after having him balls deep inside of you. You resisted the urge to bang your head against the mirror. Barely.

You fixed your face as you liked, with a little something extra for the party, and shoved your things back into your toiletry bag, which Caleb had diligently brought into the bathroom while you were showering, along with an extra toothbrush. Feeling significantly more re-energized with clean hair and a fresh face, you exited the bathroom with a new towel wrapped about your torso. Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, still completely naked, fiddling with something on his phone. He looked up as you came out, and smiled. 

“Pretty as a picture.”

You smiled back, making a dismissive gesture at him. You felt strangely shy now that you looked at him, knowing he had been inside of you. Caleb raised a brow at you, and stood, stalking towards you with purpose. He pulled the towel from your body, despite your attempt to yank it back. He pressed on your lower back and stomach, essentially folding you in half. You gripped the back of your thighs, deeply confused. Caleb knelt behind you, and pushed his face into your pussy, licking you deeply from behind. His tongue fucked into you without warning, and you yelped.

“Caleb–!”

But as soon as you spoke, he was standing again, and righted you into a standing position, too. He wrapped your towel back around you, like nothing had just happened.

You stared at him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking smug.

“Sorry. I just wanted a taste before we go.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the restroom. You stared at the door long after he was gone, trying to get ahold of yourself. Instead of trying to dwell on the feeling of his tongue inside of you, or the fact that this was your reality now, you crossed the room to where Caleb had put your suitcase near his closet.

You rifled through what you had brought. First, a pair of underwear that your ass wouldn’t totally fall out of in your skirt. The skirt was shorter than usual, but Caleb had mentioned the party briefly in passing, so you had included it, just in case. A pair of thigh high socks. A little black and white corset top – comfortable, but cute, with long sleeves so you felt less exposed. No bra necessary. A bag you could strap across your back without having to worry about it. The last part was the hardest. A pair of knee high docs. They were cute, but ridiculously hard to get on and off. You spent some time unlacing them, then lacing them back onto your legs, while Caleb banged around in the shower. You wouldn’t normally wear shoes inside, but the carpet would survive, just this once. 

When you looked up from your shoes, something on Caleb’s desk caught your eye, illuminated by his little yellow lamp. It was an unassuming notebook. You stood, and made your way to the desk. It occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t pry – but he had left it out, unlabeled. You opened it to a random page. It was a list in Caleb’s boyish scrawl. It was labeled simply: Wants. You read down the list. It was mostly mundane items, some of them crossed out. As it went on, a sense of understanding dawned on you. These were things you had mentioned to Caleb that you wanted or needed. Some he had already gifted to you, some he clearly planned to. The most recent was that expensive hair dryer you wanted – the one with the curling function. You had mentioned it to him in passing, not because you wanted him to buy it for you – you had just been talking. The thing was insanely expensive. He had gifted it to you last month, and you had brought it with you to visit this time. It was crossed out on the list. Your heart did a strange flip in your chest, like it was trying to go live where your stomach dwelled. 

You turned the page. There was this month’s calendar, with notes scrawled on each day. It was very clearly your schedule, though you couldn’t recall ever sharing it with Caleb in such detail. There were notes scribbled on nearly every day – things like ‘ tutors that red-head in French’ and ‘Civil Procedures lecture @10:30AM.’ 

You were open with Caleb, sure. But you definitely hadn’t told him all of this. You didn’t have long to ponder, though, because the sound of Caleb cutting off the hair dryer interrupted your thoughts. You flipped the notebook shut, and flung yourself back into a sitting position on Caleb’s bed, legs hanging off the side. Caleb came out, bringing a rush of warm, wet air with him. He peered at you curiously, still in nothing but a towel. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Caleb naked so much in your life as you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Whatcha up to, pipsqueak?” 

You shook your head, kicking your boots back and forth.

“Nothing.”

Definitely not looking through the book he clearly used to keep tabs on your every move, just casually sitting atop his desk.

Nope.

Caleb gave you an incredulous look.

“Oookay.” 

Clearly, he didn’t believe you – but he didn’t pry, either. Caleb padded towards his chest of drawers, and dug around for boxers, socks, and shorts. You watched the muscles of his back slide under his skin as he did so, admiring how one muscle connected to another. He had great lats – like beautiful wings when he stretched his arms out. You wanted to bite him. Caleb was stepping into his clothes, not looking at you while he spoke.

“You look way too fucking hot. I’m not lookin’ at you before I get these on, because if I do, I’ll fuck you again. And I won’t want anyone else to see you like this, either. I mean, I still kind of don’t, but I also want everyone to know how hot my girl is.” 

Caleb’s clearly conflicted train of thought made a laugh bubble up from your chest. You tried to parse the latter half of his statement – his girl. Did that mean you were attending the party tonight in the role of his girlfriend? It almost sounded like it. You secretly hoped that was the case, as it usually was at social gatherings like this. It helped keep people off of him – sort of. 

He turned back to you, clearly half-hard in his shorts. He adjusted his dick while looking into your face. 

“Okay. Now that we’ve established that, want to help me with my toga?” 

You raised a brow at him.

“You actually have a toga?”

Caleb rummaged through his bottom drawer, and produced a white sheet, which he held up to you triumphantly, like he was presenting you with the ghost of a kill he had made for tonight’s dinner. 

“Totally.” 

Getting Caleb into the ‘toga’ was an ordeal in its own right. You ended up cinching it around the waist with one of his flight belts, and clasped it with one of your hair clips at the shoulder, to give it the toga look. The clip was a cute one, with little apples on it. Caleb sported this strange assortment of items proudly, crowned with his black ball cap, facing forward this time. On anyone else, it would have been purely goofy. But for Caleb, who had quite literally everything going for him, he only managed to look more charming and handsome. He could have worn a sack and still looked hot – and for all intents and purposes, he basically was. You finally made it back down the stairs with Caleb, who was busy looking through the fridge. 

“You should eat something before we go, since you’re going to drink. Want me to make you something?” 

Caleb shut the fridge, and motioned to the stove. The image of him cooking while in the makeshift toga drifted through your mind, and you had to control your face to keep from laughing. 

“That’s okay. Do you have a protein bar or something? I don’t want to feel all bloated before we go. What about you?”

Caleb nodded, and turned towards the pantry instead. There was a lot of rustling, but you couldn’t see what he was looking for because of how broad his back was. It covered the entirety of the damn pantry. He turned back to you, protein bar in hand. It was suspiciously cute and pink – definitely not the kind he usually ate. You had a sneaking suspicion it was something he had purchased for your benefit. 

“I ate while you were in the shower, earlier. Plus, I’m not the one who’ll be drinking.”

You took the bar from him, and tore it open. Some sort of inoffensive chocolate flavor, with sprinkles. Really not bad for a protein bar, all things considered. It would do for a pre-game snack. You made quick work of it under Caleb’s watchful eye, who seemingly had nothing better to do than watch you eat with an elbow propped up on the counter. He took the wrapper from you when you were done and trashed it. Satisfied that you had consumed something, Caleb turned towards the rest of the house, and took in a great inhale of air.

“GIDEON! LIAM! LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOO!”

His voice boomed through the building. You had almost never heard him project like that. It was kind of impressive – and kind of annoying, in the way only your big brother’s voice could be. You wondered where the hell he got the energy to be on ten all of the time. Two sets of heavy footsteps came tromping down the stairs, and Liam and Gideon appeared before Caleb, in equally ridiculous makeshift togas. They looked like the world’s silliest attendees to the Roman Forum, but in a sexy way.

The three men walked ahead of you into the entryway, and put on their shoes. Caleb was, of course, wearing his combat boots to complete the look. He patted the pockets of the shorts he was wearing underneath the sheet, feeling around to ensure he had his phone and keys. 

“Liam,” Caleb called,

“You drive.” 

Liam simply nodded, and he and Gideon elbowed each other to get out of the door first, bickering under their breaths. Caleb slipped his fingers through yours, and he led you from the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Liam drove a Jeep, much like the one Caleb had left at home for you to drive. It was technically his car, but you loved it so much that he had given it to you to use while he was away at college. He had spent years tinkering with that thing – and he had taught you to drive in it too, ensuring you could drive a manual. Even with all the time he had been away, it still smelled like him. When you couldn’t sleep at night, Caleb would take you for long drives, until you no longer recognized the roads, and the movement of the car lulled you to sleep. You’d wake up back in your bed, knowing Caleb must have carried you there. 

Caleb opened the back door of the car for you, letting you get in first. He got in after you. It was almost funny to see such a big guy clamber into the little space. Liam sat in the driver’s seat, and Gideon had shotgun. He turned back to you, and waved his phone in your direction, which was plugged into the USB port. 

“Any requests for the DJ?”

You thought back to what you and Caleb had been listening to recently. He was big into Nine Inch Nails. So were you. When he was a teenager, you would sit in his lap and listen, one headphone in your ear, one in his, in his room. The lyrics made you feel like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t, Caleb’s head bobbing over your shoulder, bouncing you up and down on his lap with his knee, in time with the music.

“Can you put on ‘Discipline?’ It’s Nine Inch Nails.”

Gideon nodded his assent. He started the song up. Teenaged Caleb’s words echoed in your head. 

The main synth is made mostly from a Vostok semi-modular eurotrack synth setup...but basically, it’s just guitars and synths through effects.

Trent Reznor’s voice cut through the air like little blades, supported by the crunch of the bass.

Am I

Am I still tough enough?

Caleb nudged you with his shoulder, and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“Hey. Sit in my lap instead.” 

You glanced at Gideon and Liam, who were talking over the music heatedly about something. You gestured to them with your body. It was dark in the car, but still.

Feels like I’m wearin’ down, down, down, down, down

“What about–”

Caleb shook his head, interrupting you.

“They don’t care. C’mon, pips. It’s a super short drive down this road. You used to love sittin’ in my lap when you were a kid.”

'They don’t care,’ sounded more like 'They already know what I’m up to.' You eyed Caleb warily for a moment. He gave you an innocent look, complete with puppy eyes. You unbuckled your seatbelt, and slid into his lap, learning against the warmth of his broad chest. The stupid sheet was kind of in the way. Caleb exhaled hotly against your ear, reclining to make it easier for you to sit on him.

Is my viciousness

Losing ground, ground, ground, ground, ground?

“Yeah, there you go, baby. Perfect.”

Caleb’s hands slipped up your thighs, rubbing up and down over your bare skin. Liam guided the car from the drive, and started down the road. The movement jostled you on top of Caleb, and he gripped at the flesh of your thighs, keeping you in place. You felt his dick twitch to life underneath you, through your underwear. One of his hands slipped further up your thigh, under your skirt. The other tugged your skirt down, so that his hand was hidden from view. Caleb’s hand touched you over your underwear, finger just gently gliding between your legs over the fabric, like an afterthought.

Am I taking too much?

“Gideon,” he called over your shoulder.

“Did you get the stuff for the drinks?”

Gideon tilted his head back to catch what Caleb was saying. You tensed up, but Caleb didn’t move his hand at all. Instead, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. He felt how wet you were, sliding between you.

Did I cross the line, line, line?

“Yeah, man. It’s in the back. Everything you asked for.” 

Caleb leaned further over your shoulder to speak.

“You’re the GOAT. Thanks.” 

Caleb’s middle finger slipped inside of you without a second thought. He moved it in and out, and the sound was loud, even with the music. You gripped at his wrist, but he didn’t stop. Gideon turned back around.

I need my role in this

Very clearly defined

“No problem. I got you.”

Caleb added another finger, and attached his lips to your neck, sucking. He was clearly intent on leaving a mark before you arrived at the party, and was succeeding. Any squirming you did was futile in his grip. He fingerfucked you harder. It was like he wanted to squeeze an orgasm out of you in the very short time you would be in the car. He just wanted to be inside of you, to touch you. Like he just couldn’t help himself. You had finally uncorked years of frustration, and he was taking it out on you in the best way possible.

I need your discipline

I need your help

You dug your hips back against his lap in retaliation, and Caleb grunted in response. You would have much preferred he just fuck you again, but there was no way it was going to happen in a car with two other people who you liked. Or even two people you didn’t like. Even if they didn’t care – or so Caleb said. He added the attention of his thumb along with his two fingers, and you gripped at his thigh, trying to keep your mouth shut.

I need your discipline

You know once I start

I cannot help myself

Caleb mouthed your ear, drowning out the sound of the conversation in the car with his soft voice.

“Think you can cum for me in my lap like this, princess? Gonna cum on Caleb’s fingers?”

And now it’s starting up

Feels like I’m losing touch

You shook your head. Not quite saying no – just overwhelmed with the situation. How were you supposed to finish when there were other people less than a foot away, having a full blown conversation? At least the music was blessedly loud, but Caleb gave you no reprieve from his thumb and the fingers inside of you. 

“I think you can. You can do it for me, right?”

Ooh, and nothing matters to me

Nothing matters this much

You nodded instead, because your orgasm was closing in on you, despite your trepidation. Your body – your mind had wanted Caleb for so long that it was so easy for him to coax one out of you, now. Caleb replaced the hand you had over your mouth with his own. It dominated the lower half of your face, covering your nose and mouth. Everything was Caleb.

I see you left a mark

Up and down my skin, skin, skin

You rocked your hips into Caleb’s fingers, and you felt him nod his encouragement against your neck.

“Mhm. Yeah. Just like that.”

 His big hand tightened around your face. Your breathing was loud through the small openings in his fingers, and you were near certain you had drooled on him. 

I don’t know where I end

And where you begin

Caleb’s teeth sank into your neck again, and your orgasm found you. You came on his fingers, and he worked you through it, still fingerfucking you. You had to forcibly push him off to get some reprieve, and his fingers came out of you with a wet schluck. He sucked them into his mouth, and you heard rather than saw the sounds of him licking them clean of you. His dick twitched under your ass as he licked them. You leaned back against his chest, trying to catch your breath. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your stomach. The sound of Liam’s voice made you sit up straight, and pull down on your skirt.

“Yo, we’re here. Gonna get the stuff out of the back.”

He parked the jeep on the roadside as he spoke, and cut the engine. He and Gideon exited the car, and went around to open the back. The music came to an abrupt stop, and a different kind of music reached your ears. Even through the windows of the car, you could hear the bass of it pumping from inside of the house. You peered through the window. People milled about in the yard. The place was nearly identical to the one Caleb was residing in. He patted the side of your thigh.

“Up and at ‘em, pips. Gotta help these guys out.”

He spoke like he hadn’t just worked an orgasm out of you in under a minute. Caleb opened the door for you, and you slipped off of his lap onto the sidewalk. It took you a moment to find your footing, and you had to discreetly try to adjust your underwear back into place. They were now uncomfortably wet. You turned to glare at Caleb, who had already climbed out and shut the door behind you. He steadied you with hands around your waist, rubbing up and down your sides.

“You okay, princess? Was that too much?”

His tone was way too innocent for how he had been acting moments prior.

“I’m okay. You, however, are clinically insane.”

Caleb blew cool air on the back of your neck, lifting your hair out of the way.

“Well, yeah. I jerk off thinkin’ about you, like, three or four times a day. Now that I can finally have you, you drive me crazier than ever. Wait here for just a sec, okay?”

Caleb jogged to the back of the car, pockets jingling, like he hadn’t just admitted that to you.  There was a rustling, along with a murmur of agreement from the three men. You watched with big eyes as they all came back around with grocery bags full of god-knows-what in hand. Caleb transferred all of the bags he was holding to his left hand, and put his right around your waist. 

“Ready?” 

You didn’t quite feel ready, post orgasm. Maybe you should have taken a pregame shot before coming. You nodded yes, anyway. You knew you didn’t have anything to worry about with popular, sunshine Caleb around. Well, besides his popularity. Maybe you should be worried. He guided you into the house party, flanked by Gideon and Liam on either side, like some sort of toga-clad guard detail. There was a rousing whoop as your group entered, clearly from people who recognized your boys. The throng of people was already pressed close around you, and the party was only just beginning. Young men in makeshift togas dominated the space, their loud voices making it hard to hear anything else besides them and the music. The house was nearly identical to Caleb’s on the inside. You clung closer to him as you made your way to the kitchen. 

Caleb dropped the bags on the already full counter, next to a comically large stack of red solo cups. From it he produced vodka, peach Schnapps, everclear, Triple Sec, Sprite, pineapple juice, fruits…it just kept coming. You stared, watching in silent horror and awe. Liam and Gideon began opening the bottles, and pouring them diligently into a big, orange, spigoted dispenser, along with the cut fruit. Caleb frowned.

“We probably should have soaked the fruits beforehand. But who has time for that?”

You just looked at him. Liam was stirring the corrupted mixture with a big, metal ladle, like some kind of witch's brew. Caleb held a red solo cup under the spigot, and the liquid, which was now a radioactive sort of red, poured into it. He put it into your hands. You stared at it, and then at him. 

“What the hell is this, Caleb?”

Caleb cocked his head at you, and smiled. He tapped the side of your cup with his fingertip.

“Jungle juice, duh. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Promise I had these guys get only the best ingredients for my little girl.” 

People were milling around the kitchen now, helping themselves to the concoction. You were saved from being shoved around by Caleb pressing you against the kitchen counter with his body weight. His arms were on either side of you. Between his words and his proximity, you couldn’t keep the rise of heat from your face. Even after he had showered, you swore you could still smell the sex on him. You stared down into the cup instead of up at Caleb.

Well, you had probably had worse. No, definitely. 

Caleb leaned down closer to your ear, whispering so that only you could hear.

“You don’t have to drink, baby. No pressure. I can toss it if you want. No big deal.” 

You shook your head. Drinking wasn’t the issue here. You had never been drunk around Caleb before – and for good reason. You were worried you would try to feel him up, or worse, confess. Now, the former wasn’t so much of a problem. The latter – well, that was a problem for the you of the future. You looked back up into his eyes, and resolutely took a sip. Caleb’s eyes followed the movement of the liquid down your throat as you swallowed. The taste wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. More like…exactly what you imagined. The burn of alcohol with a hint of fruit and soda, enough to knock most people flat on their asses after one or two cups. Caleb tilted up your chin with two fingers, and leaned in close. His tongue passed over his open lips, and he dragged it over yours, licking at your mouth. You waited for him to kiss you fully, but it never came. He smacked his lips, and made a face like he was pondering the taste, his eyes roving up and to the right.

“Ooh. That’s the good stuff. Don’t have too much, yeah?”

Before you could answer and tell him that you were a fully grown adult who could regulate your own alcohol consumption, thank you very much, there was a commotion, and a chorus of voices Called Caleb’s name. You saw irritation flash over his features for just the briefest moment. Anyone else probably would have missed it, but you had known Caleb for long enough to see it. 

“Will you be okay without me for a sec?”

You shoved his chest gently with the flat of your palms. 

“Go on. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ll live.”

Caleb wavered for a moment, but then relaxed. 

“Okay. Keep your phone turned up. I shouldn’t be long.”

You dutifully took your phone from your bag, and turned up the ringer as Caleb disappeared into the crowd. You spent some time chatting idly with Liam and Gideon, who were good company, but they too were eventually commandeered by other men in togas, giving you apologetic looks as they left you behind. You ended up sort of pressed into the kitchen counter by a group of people you didn’t recognize, who were friendly, but sweaty. In that time, you had another cup or two in an attempt to keep up with the increasingly nonsensical conversation.

Feeling the need to escape the hot air that other people were breathing in your general direction, you spied a patio door, and pushed your way through the crowd, holding your cup above your head so it wouldn’t spill as you were pushed here and there. You slipped out of the crowd and out the door, which was already slightly ajar. The difference in air quality was significant, and you took a deep breath, finally not breathing in the exhale of other people. The crowd wasn’t nearly as dense out here. It opened into a decently sized, raised patio, with a backyard that was hugged on either side by towering oak trees, cut neatly across by a wooden fence.  Some couples sat in the grass, reclining, and a few people smoked. The ratio of red solo cups was significantly less dense, as well. You spied a place on the wooden patio that looked good to lean on while you soaked in the fresh air, and made for it, leaning your back against the wood, finally able to breathe.

The sky above you had gone completely dark. The rain had long since stopped, but the air was still slightly fresh with wetness, and the clean smell that came with it. Despite the light pollution, you could just make out the pulsing band of Orion’s belt above you. You watched the twinkling of its light, a long past image that was just now reaching your eyes. A low voice with a sweet timbre interrupted your viewing.

“Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, Or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? Or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven?”

You looked down from the sky, and towards the direction of the deep voice. Before you stood a man of stature that was almost identical to Caleb’s, though his looks were radically different. His face was striking, all sharp planes, with a regal, aquiline nose. A soft coif of hair that looked like it had been touched by the moonlight graced his head. But most startling of all were his eyes. They regarded you like the fresh well of blood from a razor’s cut, and they were the same color. You blinked at him, a little shocked by his appearance – and his lack of a toga. Instead, he wore an expensive looking silk black dress shirt and slacks, complete with a thick silver chain around his neck. 

“Mind if I smoke?”

You shook your head, admittedly a little struck by the stranger. Was he a student? He could almost pass for a professor, were it not for his presence at this party, and a certain playfulness about his eyes and mouth. You gestured to the railing next to you.

“Be my guest.”

He nodded, and pulled an expensive looking silver cigarette case from his pocket. It reflected the deep blue of the night sky like a mirror. The cigarettes inside were long and black, and he placed one between plush lips, lighting it with an engraved zippo. You squinted at the words. It read: 

‘WHEN I GO TO HELL

COME WITH ME.’

You watched with the unconcealed interest of someone who had been consuming alcohol, but he didn’t seem bothered in the least by your gaze. He glanced to you, and held the open case out to you. His long fingers dwarfed the metal box.

“Would you like one?”

You shook your head. You started to say No thanks, I quit, because you had. Your oral fixation needed working on still, though. Caleb had been supplying you dutifully with lollipops, gum, and toothpicks in lieu of cigarettes.  The alcohol, however,  had you feeling rather bold. It helped (or maybe it didn’t?) that he was smoking your brand. You plucked the lit cigarette from the man’s lips, and took a drag from it. The cloves were sweet on your tongue, and the nicotine rush hit you in a wave that was the perfect combination with your buzz. The man with the rubies for eyes regarded you curiously, his mouth turned up in a half smile. You handed the cigarette back to him, tilting your head. You found yourself smiling, finally able to relax.

“Thank youuu.” 

He put the cigarette back into his own mouth, and took a drag from it. He exhaled at the sky, in the direction of the stars, instead of offering any words in return. You eyeballed him. Something he had said when he made his strange, grand entrance tugged at your memory. Something from your comparative religion course, maybe? What was that?

“Were you quoting the Bible at me earlier?”

The man turned back towards you, the lit cigarette in between two of his fingers. The end of it glowed nearly the same color of his eyes. He flicked it, and nodded, once.

“Very astute, sweetie. It’s God mocking Job – or rather, man in general – for his ignorance and weakness. Can man ‘loose the pleiades?’ Change a wilting winter into a blossoming spring, with the sweet influences with beautiful rosettes? Can he break free from his chains of his own accord?” 

He sounded like something was funny, in a wistful, far away sort of way. You regarded the man levelly. From anyone else, you may have thought this sounded like a pretentious crock of pseudo-intellectual bullshit – but he seemed deeply genuine. Like there was something he wanted you to glean from this, to remember. It helped that he was devilishly handsome, too. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to you. But you couldn’t quite grasp it like you wanted to, so you just nodded. The man’s eyes drifted away from you, towards the direction you had come from.

“Speaking of chains,”

He pointed one slender finger towards the patio door. 

“You may want to rescue your brother from his. He seems to be having some trouble inside.”

A flurry of questions rose to your mind – how he knew your brother – or rather, Caleb, from where, and how, to name a few. But none of these seemed as pertinent as going to Caleb’s rescue. Whatever that meant. So you just picked the one burning at the forefront of your mind.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

The man with the moon-touched hair crossed his legs, leaning back casually against the railing. He titled his head, offering you an otherworldly smile full of straight, white teeth.

“It’s Sylus. Sylus Qin.”

As you departed from your strange but handsome companion, you tossed back the last of your drink, and threw the empty cup into the nearby overflowing trash. You had a new mission: rescue Caleb from whatever sort of trouble he had gotten himself into. You were having a hard time imagining what that could possibly be, seeing as he was the sober one, and you were the mildly (or not so mildly) intoxicated one. Back inside, the party had grown from a too-tight gathering to a pulsating throng. You had to push and excuse-me-sorry your way through half naked people and men in togas, heading towards what you thought was the center of the commotion. You kept having to touch the bare skin of others as you moved, and you fought back the rising feeling of disgust, trying to focus on reaching Caleb. You would have crawled your way backwards through hell for him. This, surely, was nothing. Okay, maybe it was a little comparable.

It didn’t take you long to find him. He was centered in the living room of the party, surrounded on all sides by young men and women. You pushed through the circle, until you were just adjacent to him. One girl hung off of his arm – the arm that he had lost feeling in. The other was trying to push a drink in his hand. You felt yourself deflate at his expression. He was smiling from ear to ear, face flushed with exertion. He was politely rejecting the drink, saying something you couldn’t quite make out. The hand with the cup retracted, dejected. Your ears rang, watching the pretty hands of the girl curl around the scar on his right bicep. You stared, and stared. And stared.

“...squeak.”

“Pipsqueak!”

You snapped back into reality at the use of your nickname. Caleb was making the word with his mouth, gesturing for you to come closer. You approached him in a daze. The girl still clutched at his arm. She was pretty, with cascades of bright red knotless braids flowing down her back and shoulders, and big brown doe eyes. They looked good together. It occurred to you that the sex with Caleb could have meant nothing at all – and maybe that’s all he was interested in. It was possible to be interested in someone sexually and not romantically, after all. Maybe he had harbored one feeling, but not the other. Unlike you, who harbored both feelings for your brother. Truly fucked in the head, now on both levels. You offered the pretty girl a little smile, trying to school your face in a friendly expression. You weren’t that little girl who bit, screamed, and scratched Caleb anymore. You were an adult. An adult who could respect his choices.

The girl's voice reached you, directed at Caleb.

“Oh! Is this your little sister? She’s so cute!”

She sounded genuine, not disparaging at all. It made you feel even worse for wallowing in your jealousy. You looked at Caleb for direction. How should you answer? What role should you take tonight? Then, as you looked, watched the indecision on Caleb’s face, irritation replaced your jealousy. Why should you have to stand right where you want to be, and not have it? You shrugged.

“Dunno! His fingers were just inside me in the car. Who I am tonight, Caleb? Your girlfriend, or your little sister? Maybe both? Is that easier for you?”

Maybe you’d ruin his perfect reputation, right here, in front of everyone. Not many people seemed to hear you over the music and conversation, though.

The girl put a delicate hand over her mouth, and her eyebrows raised.

“Ooh,” she nudged Caleb. “What are you going to do?”

Caleb was scowling, now. That was better. His angry face was sexy. Maybe he’d finally ditch you – or take it out on you. Hopefully the latter. You felt like angry sex with Caleb would be really good. He leaned down and said something into the girl’s ear. She retracted her hand, nodding. She made a mock salute at Caleb, and winked at you. Seriously, what the fuck was their relationship?

“Good luck!”

Caleb started towards you, and in the middle of everyone, you were thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder, as if you were a sack of flour. He kept one hand on your ass, so that you wouldn’t expose yourself. You beat on his chest with your fists, and tried to protest – but his evol was holding your mouth shut. He ignored your physical protests, and people parted out of the way for him, looking down,  as he carried you up the stairs of the house. It seemed like everyone knew him – and by extension, you as well. Just another Tuesday – or whatever day it was. He turned abruptly into an unoccupied hallway, though people passed just beside it, and set you down to your feet on the carpet. His evol released your mouth.

“Caleb–!”

He put a finger to your lips, stopping you. He sniffed.

“Have you been smoking, pips?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. That was what he was worried about?

“Yeah. There was a hot guy outside who oh-so-kindly offered, while you were otherwise occupied.”

“A hot guy–?” Caleb stopped himself, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes slid shut, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to collect himself. 

Caleb grasped your wrist, and pulled open the nearest room, tugging you into it. You hated the idea of entering someone’s bedroom unannounced without their permission, but it seemed wholly unoccupied, thankfully. He tugged off the sheet that was acting as his toga, tossing his belt and your hair clip aside along with it. The cap went, too. It left him only in his cargo shorts and boots. He gripped the back of your hair, and pushed you into a mean kiss without further warning, taking the breath away from any further words you could say. He pulled away from you, panting. The anger was still there, hot in his eyes. He kissed the side of your mouth.

“That was my friend, by the way. She was trying to rescue me from getting drinks poured down my throat,” he rasped, clearly still upset.

Then, as if thinking it through, he added in a tone that was all too serious:

“She’s also gay.”

Your anger immediately disappeared, and turned into laughter. At yourself, at the situation. The fact that he was explaining himself to you. You felt guilty, and you felt giddy. You wanted him more than ever. You wanted something in your mouth. You took his hand into yours, and held it up. Caleb watched you, clearly still reeling from everything that had just happened – but he still let you. You put the fingers into your mouth, closing your lips around them. You sucked, letting them reach near the back of your throat. You thought you were going to gag, but the alcohol had you feeling so relaxed that you didn’t. You looked at Caleb as you sucked. You saw his nostrils flare, his eyes trained on the place where you had him in your mouth. He palmed himself through his pants. His voice sounded rough when he spoke.

“You need something in your mouth that bad? Fine.”

He pulled you back from his fingers by your hair, and you watched, enraptured, as his big hands, one still wet from your saliva, unzipped his shorts. He pulled down his boxers, and his dick sprung free from them, slapping up against his stomach. You wondered, a little gleefully, how many times you had gotten him hard that day. This was exactly what you needed. You sank to your knees eagerly before him, and his familiar scent washed over you. You pressed your cheek against his leaking cock. Caleb groaned, tossing his head back against the door.

“Don’t go to anyone else to fill your mouth. Only me. Understand?”

He slapped your cheek with his dick, and rubbed the head against your lips, wetting them with his precum. You nodded against it, lips slipping over it. 

Caleb tugged open your bottom lip with his thumb, and pressed his dick against your teeth.

“That’s my good girl. Now open up and suck me off.”

You opened your lips, and took him in your mouth. There was absolutely no way in hell you were fitting most of him inside, so you took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, and used your spit to jerk him while you worked him with your tongue. His hips stuttered into your mouth, like he was trying everything in his power not to fuck your throat. You pulled off for a moment, licking the head of him, tonguing his slit. You committed the bitter taste of him to memory.

He watched you intently, big hand fisted in your hair, guiding you up and down. He was loud, too, little whines and groans spilling from his lips. His sounds only spurred you on. You could tell he was close with the way he was twitching in your mouth, and the way he was pulling on your hair. You were certain he was going to cum down your throat, but he suddenly hoisted to your feet by your armpits, and lifted your skirt, pulling down your underwear, just enough so that he could slide his dick between your legs, right against your pussy.

“Caleb–?”

He gripped you by your hips, sliding you up and down the length of his cock like you were a toy. 

“Fuck – saying my name – gonna make me –”

Caleb’s hips stuttered as he spoke, and he held your panties open with a finger, his dick against them, and came in hot ropes in the seat of them. His abdomen heaved as he rode out his orgasm. He stilled for only a moment to catch his breath, and then pulled your underwear right back up, pushing his cum against your pussy between them. You stared into his face, dumbfounded. Turned on. 

Caleb cupped your face delicately in his hands. The contrast of the feeling of his cum between your legs and his soft touch made you laugh, and Caleb let a smile fall over his face too. You squeezed one of his cheeks, making it go even more red than it already was.

“Meanie.”

Caleb scrunched up his nose at your treatment. He stuck his tongue out to the side, and tried to touch it to your hand. You dropped it so he couldn’t reach you. He grinned.

“Yeah. I’m a bad guy, huh? I just wanna mess you up all the time. Especially after you told me another guy was puttin’ something in your mouth. Well, now my cock’s been in your mouth, and my cum’s in your–” 

You put a hand over his mouth, hearing footsteps approaching in the hallway. There was a knocking at the door. Caleb’s eyes went wide, and then focused on something behind you. He took your hand from his mouth, and there was a succession of events so sudden that you had a hard time processing what exactly was happening.

First, there was a woosh as the window of the room came open. You smelled the night air before you saw it. Then, Caleb gathered the toga bundle in his hand, and made for the window. You watched, unable to believe what you were seeing, as he leapt through the open window. The movement reminded you of pole jumpers, the way he bent his body expertly through the space. You worried for just a moment, because you were on the second floor – and then you recalled that your brother could control gravity with his mind. Right.

As that thought struck you, you too were in the air, though you couldn’t see Caleb. You were whisked from the room and out the window, which shut loudly behind you. You felt like you might fall, your hands windmilling,  but instead you drifted into Caleb’s outstretched arms. The little sheet floated behind him, curled around the other items diligently. The window had opened up to a side lot, away from prying eyes. You stared into Caleb’s face, and he stared into yours. Then, both of you erupted into peals of laughter. Caleb doubled over, pressing his forehead against yours. His chest shook with the force of it. When he pulled away, he nearly started laughing all over again, and you saw tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. You wiped at them with your thumbs. Caleb looked very smug.

“Agent pip and Captain Caleb making a daring escape after sharing a heated encounter in public,” he narrated, like an announcer, voice a half-whisper.

“What will their next escapade entail? Tune in for the next episode and find out!”

You snorted, unable to keep the sound from coming out of you. It took great effort not to start laughing for real all over again.

“I’d like the next episode to be a little less action packed, if possible,” you mused.

Caleb nodded, and began walking you down the drive, and down the sidewalk in the direction of his frat. The sheet followed behind. You wondered what Gideon and Liam would think of all of this. They’d probably just support Caleb, like always.

“Noted. Next time I’ll draft out somethin’ significantly more relaxed. Or maybe it will be like, an alternate universe. I’ll be your trusty knight in shining armor, and you’ll be my princess. Oh wait,” he paused, and leaned down, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You already are my princess.”

You reached up, and cupped his jaw, feeling his stubble there. His skin was still a little sweaty. Your buzz was starting to make you enter that half-sleepy, half-giggly state. You smirked at him.

“You’re the best big brother in the world. You always take care of me, even if you get mad at me sometimes. And your dick feels really good inside me, too.”

Caleb laughed softly, and shook his head. His violet eyes regarded you warmly, like the caress of the night air around your skin.

“I’m glad your big brother’s dick makes you feel good, baby. Don’t let anyone else but me hear you say that, though.”

You frowned, and kicked your legs. They dangled over one of Caleb’s strong arms, the leather of your boots creaking. Your calves were starting to ache. You would have to take those stupid boots off when you got home. Actually, you would have Caleb take them off for you. And you wouldn’t even have to ask. You remembered his cum in your underwear, and frowned even deeper. 

“Why? Are you ashamed to be my brother?”

Caleb shook his head again. He looked ahead instead of at you as he walked. You stared at the necklace glistening against the bare skin of his chest, illuminated only by the passing streetlights. Moths fluttered around them overhead, drawn to their illuminated doom. Somewhere, a lonesome dog barked, trapped behind a fence in a yard.

“No. Not at all. I just…maybe I want to be that and more.”

His voice trailed off towards the end, like he was unsure of himself. His cheeks and ears were pink again. You tugged on his necklace, examining the little ruby in the heart of the silver apple. It was just like you – nestled right in the middle of him, always. Your heart increased its pace at his words. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel hopeful. You ran your thumb over the small charm.

“More? You mean like, dating-more?”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, and then adjusted you in his arms, tossing you in the air a little, once, then twice. You knew he was playing with you. You gripped tighter around his neck, unable to keep from laughing. He laughed, too. The sounds of your combined happiness echoed off of the empty street and into the soft serenity of the night.

“This is a conversation for when you’re sober, pips. In the morning. Right now, all I want is to get you home and snuggled up in bed. Preferably next to me. So be a good girl and let me, yeah?”

You wanted to argue, but you knew he was right. He seemed more earnest than ever. You knew, instinctively, that he would be honest with you. You knew, because you knew him better than anyone else in the world. You were like that scar on his arm. He could never be rid of you, even if it still hurt sometimes. You’d let Caleb put you to bed. And in the morning, you’d wake up to a Caleb who told the whole truth, this time.

MC is stronger than me because if I grew up with a 6’2”, Greek god golden boy wonder who only has eyes for me, there’s no way I’d be letting him slip through my fingers.