Motherly Love

࿐ Whenever you are guys apart for some time, Yuji can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Always waiting for you to let your guard down so he can pounce on you.

Squeezing you like a plushie, his buff arms suffocate you, your face stuffed into his chest.

He hates using how strong he is against you but in times like this he’s desperate :(

Nuzzling his nose into your neck, sniffing you like he’s a dog craving your scent.

After every inhale, he exhales loudly like your the best perfume his after smelt.

You let out a small squeak when you feel the wetness of his tongue on your neck.

But this isn’t the end of his schemes.

~

As you’re washing the dishes you hear the front door open. Putting his things down, he runs towards you like a puppy seeing its owner after years. “I missed you!” He whines your name, standing to close for comfort. You greet him, and turn your focus back to cleaning.

Turning your head, you’re startled by him still standing there. Frowning while softly pouting his lips.

“Come here.” He tries to lean his face in, but you turn your head quickly.

“Come hereee.” He complains, squeezing your cheeks as he uses his hand to forcefully turn you his way.

Before you could refuse, he pushes his lips against yours. Repeatedly. You struggle to keep up with him. Your little gasp and inhales whenever he’d break the kiss was making his pants tight :(

He decides he’s had enough (for now) once your eyes start going out of focus. He smiles as he finally backs out of your personal bubble. Licking his now glossed, lips while he turns to bother something other than you.

Your face flushed, and your hands trembly, your embarrassed of how easily he got you in a state like this >:(

Your eyebrows furrowed, you (try to) continue the dishes.

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.

pro hero! katsuki bakugo drabble .

y'er so much trouble, aren'cha. includes blowjob, very vague? writing, fem! reader, slight perv! kirishima mention lol and adult themes, so mdni!!

you try not to, you really do. but sucking on katsuki's throbbing cock in the elevator of his agency is just so much fun. on the outside, you're just his secretary, sweet girl who god knows how, tolerates all those late night and early morning calls. your colleagues feel so much pity for you, ever since kirishima saw you sneaking out of leaving bakugo's house just in time for their early morning run, he came back to the office, loudly lecturing bakugo on how he can't overwork you like that.

so it makes it so much fun, to slide into the elevator, right after katsuki's blown his head off at some silly intern, fumes practically coming out of his ears as he repeatedly presses the button for the third floor. everyone stares at you in awe as you run right into the elevator. only you could face bakugo right now.

literally.

as he's about to scoff and grumble something stupid about how he's not in the mood to play around with you when the door finally closes and you smash him against the wall. normally katsuki bakugo wouldn't move an inch, but for you.

for you, baby, anything.

one hand of his is gripping your hair and fisting it into a ponytail as your head slowly moves closer to the base of his cock and then back to the tip, while his other hand struggles to find the emergency stop button of the elevator. "fuck fuck fuck- y/n, f-fuck, " he's throbbing in your mouth already, you can feel it deep in your throat as you hollow your cheeks against his girth, looking up at him with those fucked out eyes that he likes so much. he finally finds the button and smashes it right before it opens up on the third floor. and you can hear people outside groaning about how this is the fourth time this month.

as you're quickening your pace, hands wrapping around the excess of his length to help him finish, you can see him poke his tongue in his cheek, eyes shut as he tries so hard not to moan your name when you swallow all his orgasm. when he opens his eyes, it's to see the string of saliva and slick connecting your swollen lips to his softening cock as a few droplets of his cum drip down your chin. and that, is a sight he would never not want to see.

slowly, you get up from your knees, making a silly comment about how he's so much hotter in his winter uniform, and roughly brush your thumb against your bottom lip, collecting all the excess liquid and sucking on it as you watch color return to his cheeks.

"y'er so much trouble, aren'cha" he grins, eyes narrowing in fondness as he pulls you by your neck and sloppily smashes his lips against yours.

pulling back, he sighs before pressing the emergency stop button, eyebrows raising as he notices the crowd of people there, "get back to work you little shits, 'm not paying ya to loiter around-! and use thegoddamn stairs if the elevator ain't working! " and that classic workaholic bakugo act would've fooled everyone else, but when kirishima notices how everytime the elevator has acted up it's been the two of you going down, or coming up, he feels like he's connecting some dots, so he moves forward to catch a better glimpse, and there you are, oh, not to mention the very suspicious white stuff on bakugo's shoes. but it's okay, Kirishima won't tell anyone, maybe he'll take a quick check of the security cameras though, just to erase any evidence that might hurt his manly friend's rep, right? at least that's what he tries to convince himself of as he jolts downstairs with a boner harder than his quirk.

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

a bit of sexy Daniel for your dash

(source: phans directory)

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 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.”)

just appreciating his hands

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.

would u ever do another part to the teaching some lessons series 🥹🥹

my lord, it's been so long since i wrote for yuuji but i love him sm to decline this opportunity. so, here you go. some filth for ya <3

🌸a lesson in jealousy!

synopsis: yuuji itadori knew he was lucky, knew that he was dating the most loyal girl ever, knew that his brother and you were nothing more than best-friends — knew all of that and yet, couldn't help but clench his jaw and fuck you into that ruined couch — jealous. pairing: afab!reader x itadori yuuji [aged up.] wc: 5.2k cw: MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. nsfw includes: jealousy, penetration, edging and denial, rough smex, pussydrunk!yuuji, slight bimbofication, yuuji's super-strength and stamina, yuuji is insecure, and sukuna is a brat as always. have fun. m.list

yuuji itadori was not a jealous man.

he was a bit dense, a bit too optimistic for his own good, maybe a teensy bit territorial — sure. but jealous? nah.

that was before sukuna made him reconsider his beliefs.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 0.

"yuu, does this dress look good on me?" your voice shook with impatience, eyes sifting over your boyfriend's hunched form as he sat on your couch.

"hm?" the jock looked up from his phone, gaze all but devouring you as you stood before him.

you were beautiful, always were.

no matter when yuuji itadori looked at you, he was blown away like it was his first, like he was a kid on the playground who had just been offered ice-cream on a sweltering, hot day.

he nodded enthusiastically, a broad smile across his lips, "good is an understatement, babe. you look fuckin' amazing."

and he meant it. he always meant it.

"are you sure?" a soft pout fell across your lips, and you turned around as if to display yourself once more, giving him one more chance to take back his claim.

and despite not complaining about your little show, he muttered, "dead sure, babe."

"really? you're sure sure?" you tried again, getting the jock to swallow down his own words.

"yes—" yuuji tried to plead his case, tried to tell you that you were the love of his life even in a trash bag and aluminium foil accessories, but you cut him off.

"—cause 'kuna said it made me look fat."

'kuna.'

"huh?" and though the quarterback knew better than that, his eyebrow twitched at the mention of his brother's name. chucking the uncomfortable itch that crawled at the back of his throat down his stomach, yuuji laughed, "he's stupid, you know that."

"i knoww..." you drawled the word, your soft palms finding purchase against your waist as your unsure gaze tangled against his. you drew closer, till your sweet perfume permeated his figure, "but what if kuna's right..?"

pang!

there it was, that fucking little, fluttering feeling that traveled from yuuji's brains to his biceps, then to his ribs and finally settled somewhere in his lungs. was it annoyance? maybe irritation? or jeal— no. not that.

"i mean—" you huffed, smoothing the dress over your stomach once more as you peered down at him, "be honest with me, yuu. its my first christmas with your family, i wanna make a good impression."

the scar under his eyes twitched wickedly, flexing with the muscles of his cheeks as he put on a stained smile, "you've known them for ages."

"not as your girlfriend. they know me as kuna's best friend and he doesn't exactly have the best... eh, reputation..? yes. reputation." you refuted yet again, and yuuji would have laughed at your persistence to prove him wrong had it not been for that uncomfortable itch in his lungs.

'kuna's best friend.'

a slight tick built up in his jaw, his bones weighing down with your careless words, and breaths a stuttered falsetto.

nonetheless, yuuji extended his muscled arms, pulling you in to softly perch you on his steady lap.

nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, the man hoped that the embers of anger frolicking about in his irises weren't evident in his voice, "who cares about sukuna? he's a mean fucking asshole."

shit. he could pick up on the slight edge to his tone, he just hoped you couldn't. what would you think of him if you knew the way he was feeling..?

after all, it's not like yuuji was jealous of his own brother or something. obviously not.

"i know." you raked your manicured fingers down his pinkish locks, and yuuji pasted chaste kisses to your exposed skin.

no longer was he the 6'2, hulking quarterback who would whoop someone's ass with one swift punch, but rather the same boy who had grown up with a massive crush on you. the same boy who had stayed up nights upon nights dreaming about the day you'd be his. the same boy who spent years in shadow as sukuna's ditzy younger brother before you liked him back.

but who cares about the past? you were his now, weren't you? and that was enough.

that was enough, right..?

he was knocked out of his sweet bliss when your voice kissed his ears, "i know it's dumb... but i think i'll just return it."

you didn't say the rest of the sentence, but yuuji found himself completing it in his head: 'but i'll just return it... cause sukuna said it didn't look nice.'

fuck sukuna.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 1.

yuuji itadori hated the holidays with his family.

well, no, that was a lie. he hated the holidays this year.

every other year building up to now, yuuji was the first to help choso bring the tree and decorate it, first to help his dad cook and clean, and first to yell at sukuna for being a massive dick even through the holiday spirit.

well... given it was the season of giving, sukuna sure did his part by giving yuuji something — a fucking headache, or heartburn, or pure, unadulterated murderous rage.

point being, yuuji loved the holidays. he just hated how comfortably sukuna sat on the couch while you were sitting on the ground, both of you flipping through the ancient photo albums that choso-nii had insisted to unearth from the attic this morning.

it didn't matter that he was sitting next to you, it didn't matter when he could practically hear sukuna breathing on his fucking back, muttering jokes only you laughed at.

why was that man so close to you, anyways?

"oh my fucking god," you giggled — unaware of the very devil sitting behind you.

flipping through the pages of the scrapbook choso-nii had made when you all were still far too young, your index ran across the smooth texture of the photos, eyes trying to remember the incidents as if they had happened yesterday.

you pointed to the next photo with a sudden chirp, "and oh— yuu," you smiled, "that's you."

and it sure was yuuji itadori, aged two.

clad in an onesie, the small, pink-haired toddler was sitting next to you in the picture. you were playing with blocks, and when the picture was taken — yuuji had effectively knocked the tower of blocks over. you were crying next to him, blubbering with teary eyes and reddened nose while yuuji just gawked at you like a fool.

"that's me..." yuuji found heat run to the apples of his cheek, "yeah. sorry about that—"

"—knocking my blocks over?" you laughed, and yuuji almost considered building a time machine to go back in time and not knocking those blocks over.

you patted his thigh softly, "don't worry about it yuu, i forgive you."

"still don't understand what dad's fascination was with taking photos at awkward times." choso quipped from his spot next to jin in the kitchen. the pale, tattooed man was whisking batter for the cookies as jin was simmering something in a pan. jin itadori laughed at his eldest son's question, "well, it makes for good memories."

"sure does, dad." the three brothers almost replied in unison.

"and this—" you pointed to a photo of you and sukuna covered in mud, smiling at the camera with broken teeth and scrunched noses.

you looked over your shoulder, meeting the delinquent's eyes, "we got yelled so bad for this one, kuna."

"i remember that too." yuuji's dad piped up from the kitchen, stirring the pot with a rambunctious laugh, "i mean, i was there."

"still think it was an over-exaggeration." sukuna huffed, cracking his knuckles as he peered at the photos from over your shoulder, "we just ate some mud, what's the big deal? i mean— i turned out fine."

"hardly." yuuji muttered.

"what was that, brat?" sukuna cocked at eyebrow from where he sat on the couch, "talking 'bout yourself?"

yuuji found himself pressing his lips in a straight line, an unbroken resolve in the cresses of his face, "there's a reason nobody likes you, y'know?"

"your girlfriend does."

"hey—" you turned around to smack sukuna on his knee, even though a laugh had escaped past your lips, "shut up, kuna."

yuuji felt his nails biting into his palms with the force he fisted his hand with.

sukuna raised an eyebrow at his younger brother's reaction, stifling in a hearty, annoying laugh. "what? jealous, brat?"

jealous? obviously not.

it's just some unknown red, hot feeling that ran it's way across yuuji's body and charred it whole — it wasn't jealousy.

yuuji itadori didn't get jealous.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 02.

"this is a terrible idea." you huffed, eyes strained against your green-haired-upto-no-good roommate. you repeated, "te-rri-ble."

"shut up," maki scoffed, a roll of her eyes following soon after, "it sounds fun."

what sounds fun, you may ask?

you see at a small friends-only gathering at your shared apartment, your flatmate — maki zenin had suggested with all her mighty braincell prowess, "hey, why don't we see who knows you more? your boyfriend, or your bestfriend?"

everyone had agreed — from maki's crush kugisaki to the black-haired ball of emo-ness, fushiguro. everyone had accepted except for you.

"absolutely not." you repeated yet again, and maki zenin scowled, "what a fuckin' killjoy— it's totally gonna be fun."

knowing maki, you knew she was doing this purely for her entertainment and nobody else's. this game would be fun for her.

you were sure there was something in the zenin's blood that made others suffering utterly amusing to them.

"i mean i'm down for it." yuuji shrugged, an unwavering faith in his voice, "i know i'm not losing."

"yeah?" sukuna rested the tip of his tongue against his sharp canines, almost laughing at yuuji's audacity to think that highly of himself. "ya think you'd win? i've known her 20 years. you even know how to count to 20, dumbass?"

see, despite being older in age, sukuna was definitely not the smartest tool in the shed — and yuuji knew that. so, as an act of self-preservation, yuuji let that comment go without further arguments.

instead, your boyfriend had just smiled at you reassuringly, "we should play, babe. i'm sure it'll be fun."

"yeah, loosen up." sukuna commented soon after, sipping the cheap booze, "it's not like me and yuuji will start a fight over this crap."

"fine." you had given up by the end, leaving the boys with their massive egos and terrible decision-making tendencies. you crossed your arms, vowing an unbreakable oath, "but i swear to god if you two get in a fight after this, i'm not gonna break it up."

that was five minutes ago, and now—

"—are you fuckin' stupid?" sukuna's eyes narrowed at his brother, "she obviously likes the mountains more."

"nah." yuuji retorted, dead sure in his assumptions, "beaches."

"mountains—"

"—yuuji's right." you dismissed the argument with a simple flick of your fingers, and yuuji grinned at the outcome: 3-4.

"next question." maki clapped her hands to draw attention to herself, "oh, this one should be fairly easy." she paused for dramatic effect, putting on a showbiz voice, "how many guys has she kissed?"

"three." yuuji simply answered, and sukuna waved him off with a cashmere, all-knowing grin, "nuh uh, five."

yuuji's eyebrows bunched, his eyes resting on you with a question: five?

"it's three." yuuji stated definitively and you shook your head, "kuna's right. the score is now 4-4."

you nodded as to acknowledge sukuna's nonchalant victory, and you swore your boyfriend's jaw slacked open at your words.

wobbling words and ticking jaw, yuuji itadori looked at you as if you had betrayed him, "w-wait, but i only know three."

"i've only seriously made out with three guys." you answered honestly, "rest two were when i was drunk, i don't even remember them."

"wait... why didn't you tell me that, though?" yuuji tried asking but already had the answer on the tip of your tongue.

"i was drunk, babe." you gave a half-impressed nod to sukuna, "I'm surprised sukuna remembers them too, given how shit-faced drunk he got each time."

"but—" your boyfriend tried yet again but the conversation had moved along.

now, sukuna was piping up about something that had happened when you and him were shit-faced drunk, and you and maki were laughing at his recounts.

heck, even fushiguro had cracked a smile. what the fuck?!

"holy shit." you face-palmed, laughing hysterically at whatever drunken adventure you two had embarked on without yuuji. you tried catching your breath, clutching your chest with your manicured hands, "a-and there was this buff dude— hah, ohmygod—"

sukuna added onto your story, nodding— and yuuji felt his blood boil.

yuuji itadori knew nothing had ever happened between you and sukuna. your drunken nights were just tomfoolery, your jokes were just jokes but... what if?

what if sukuna was one of the men you had kissed when drunk? what if he was more than that? what if yuuji was just a mistake and sukuna was the man for you?

what if..?

yuuji's ear's buzzed, blood roared through his veins and his bones rattled in a cursed rhythm as his erratic gaze shifted from one person to the next.

everyone was laughing.

yuuji itadori felt their — your laughter pierce through his skin and lodge square in his heart. for a minute, it felt as if the entire world was in on a massive joke and he was the only one left out.

at last, yuuji's gaze landed on sukuna. the hulking delinquent had a self-satisfying smile on his face as he yapped on and on and on—

a pulsating pain built in yuuji's palm as he felt himself squeezing down on something. his biceps bulged, a vein almost popping in his neck from the force he was exerting.

what if yuuji itadori was the butt of the joke he was being left out of?

"—yuuji?" you put a soft hand on his bicep, pulling him out of his entranced state. concern wrapped around your words like ivy, your laughter completely wiped off, "are you okay..?"

"y-huh?" the jock blinked once, twice, then once more before he could even process what you just said.

the roar in his ears subsided, the warmth in his face dissipated, and it was as the anger slipped off of his tired muscles did yuuji itadori realize that he had broke the arm of your couch with his mindless grasp.

"yuuji—" kugisaki heaved, panicked. and megumi stood up soon after, his words jittery, "itadori..?"

everyone was staring.

"shit—" his eyes travelled to the wooden splinters that had crumbled under the expanse of his muscles. frenzied eyes running from his palms to your scared face, he almost lost his voice, "s-sorry. 'm so sorry... i dunno— how."

you knelt down, nimble hands coming to take his larger palm in yours gently, "yuu—" panic overwrote every syllable of yours but your eyes stayed trained against his, "are you okay?! should we—"

"—no." yuuji pulled his hand back to his chest, shaking his head, "i'm fine... i'm okay. no."

everyone was fucking staring.

standing up, the jock almost felt too light-headed to even process what pain he was in. all he knew was that he needed to get away, and get away soon.

"i—" his mouth grew drier, words dying at the tip of his tongue as everyone's eyes bore onto his frame.

turning around, scrambling for the exit, the quarterback barely managed out an excuse, "i'll pay for that later."

before yuuji slammed the door behind himself, he heard sukuna's voice boom behind him, "yuuji, slow down."

but even the slightest sound of his brother's voice — no matter concern or mockery were enough to set his cells ablaze with a nerve-racking thunder.

yuuji itadori was probably jealous, and jealousy was unbecoming of a man.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

strike 03.

months had passed by, the arm of the couch changed and the incident had been long forgotten.

yuuji itadori had even successfully got you to belief that for a second that night, his 'super-strength' had activated. heck, he had even claimed to be the main character of a shounen manga in some parallel universe, and reasoned that perhaps he was fighting someone somewhere that night.

stupid man — that's what you had called him and yet the way you had doted on him for the next couple of days had turned any of his guilt on wrecking the furniture turn to an unsung victory.

what's a piece of furniture compared to his girlfriend, anyways?

you had sat yourself down on his lap, facing him as your trapped his cheeks between your palms as you had sighed, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you about those two extra kisses. i was just, um kinda scared if you'd judge me for drunk-kissing random guys."

"you drunk-kissed me too."

you winced, half-nodding at his words, "fair point."

but instead of judgement or scrutiny, yuuji had given you a broad smile, reassuring you with a soft kiss to your palm, "why would i ever judge you over that, babe? i'm just happy you told me now."

and that had been that. the incident had passed. it had been months. the couch had been repaired. you two had talked it out. that bitter feeling inside of yuuji had died. it had died.

so, why was it coming back with vengeance tonight?

he mumbled your name into the thick air, trying to call out to you over the beats and hollers, trying to talk sense into you.

you were at some house-party that a friend of a friend of sukuna's was hosting. the delinquent had dragged you two with him, and despite not knowing the dude, you had drank his booze and were now swaying to the beats on his darkened dance floor.

neon lights flashed over you in the sea of unknown bodies as yuuji wrapped his beefy arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

the pink-haired jock dropped his face in the crook of your neck, his mouth nipping softly against your pulse-points, "you should drink some water."

"mhmm, don' care." you groaned, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck as he looked down at you. waves of lust rocked your body and yuuji felt like you'd devoured him whole on that very dance-floor had it not been for the charges of public indecency. your words slurred deliciously, "i don' wan' water— wan' you."

yuuji laughed at your words, bringing his head down again to gently talk you through it, "but you do need water, babe. wait here and i'll get you some, okay?"

and despite your pout, yuuji patted your arm and let go of you with a soft kiss to your cheek.

the neon flashed in his irises, and his hazy vision couldn't quite keep up with your dancing figure as he eventually disappeared within the throbbing crowd. looking back once, twice, he had lost track of you completely by the time he reached the kitchen.

"water?" yuuji found himself confusedly asking another person for where the water was. "yeah, one bottle's enough. thanks, man."

yuuji navigated the stirring crowds with chants of 'sorry's and 'excuse me's lined up, with his eyes searching for your figure.

he wasn't worried about leaving you alone drunk. at worst, you'd be dancing. at best, you'd be standing still.

oh... except, he forgot to consider sukuna in his worst case scenario.

there he was — that fucking delinquent — leaning down to whisper something in your ear as you barked out a drunken laugh with a rough swat to sukuna's tattooed arm.

the plastic in yuuji's palm felt awfully easy to crush, but yuuji itadori decided to keep his cool.

heavy footsteps rung against the floor as he stepped towards you, scanning your figure. there was a glimmering glass in your hands, a matching one in sukuna's.

was sukuna getting you more drunk? why, that fucking asshole—

shit. calm down, yuuji.

"—hey." yuuji grit his teeth, giving sukuna a half-baked smile, "i don't think she should be drinking more."

"ah," the older itadori rolled his eyes, waving his younger brother off as if he was a waft of air, "calm down, it's just one more glass."

but yuuji pulled the glass from your nimble grasp, even when you pouted and reached out for it again. he swiftly replaced it with the bottle he had brought, "no, have this."

the jock never once let his gaze drop from his brother as he grunted, "i think it's enough. she has had more than enough."

"calm down, brat." sukuna repeated, giving his own glass in your hand, "she's a tough girl, she can handle herself."

yuuji itadori was sure a vein had popped somewhere in his neck as he found stepping towards his brother, grin feral, "i think you should stay out of my girlfriend's business."

"your girl—girlfriend..? hah—" sukuna laughed, and yuuji almost considered homicide to not be half-bad, "what's so fuckin' funny?"

"nothing." sukuna shook his head, still laughing about whatever delirious shit he was on about. the tatted man sucked in a breath, "it's just... if you two break up, i'll still be her best friend, and you'd..." he hummed, "you'd be nothing to her."

whatever happened after that is a blur to yuuji itadori.

all he knew is that he hadn't hit sukuna — or someone else, for that matter. he had simply clutched your wrist in his, dragging you out of that godforsaken party even as you called out his name every now and then. he had driven his car through the learned pathways in the dead of the night and now, he was jamming your key through your apartment door to let you both in.

creaaak!

the heavy door opened and yuuji pushed it to let himself in, still holding your hand in his wrist.

"yuu—" you mumbled, still dazed from all the alcohol as you trailed behind him and into your living room.

ignoring you, the jock disappeared into your kitchen after putting your purse down on the coffee table.

as you sat on the couch, trying to undo the heels off of your aching feet, he showed up with a glass of water.

you looked up at him, the whites of your eyes tinted the slightest red, "what..?"

"drink some water." yuuji commanded coldly, and your brows furrowed at his demeanor, "are you... mad at me?"

"no. don't worry." sighing, the jock bent down and undid the clasp easily. his eyes didn't meet yours as he stood back up and gave you another instruction, "just go to sleep after this, okay? you need some rest."

"but yuuji..." you pouted, drawing your palm to his wrist to stop him, "wh-where are you going..?"

maybe if you had been in a better state of mind, you would have noticed your boyfriend's clenched jaw and fisted hands, you would have heard the restraint in his words as he heaved out, "back home."

"but why?"

why?

yuuji itadori still did not meet your eyes, "I'm just not in the mood to hang out."

"but—"

"listen," the jock finally met your gaze, a silent warning imprinted onto his irises, "if i stay here, i'll end up doing something i regret."

"like..?" you still looked up at him oh-so-clueless, and yuuji couldn't help but crack open a strained smile, repeating, "like?"

like this.

"fu-fuck fuu k—" your breath hitched, eyes glossing over as it became harder and harder to breathe. your voice was muffled against the couch, the fabric eating away at whatever semblance of sanity you possessed.

yuuji splayed his palm on the back of your head, pushing it down and down into the fabric with reckless abandon as he fucked into your sopping cunt.

"tell me—" the jock grunted, using another hand to smack the delicious curve of your ass, "what is it hah about that bastard — 'kuna''", he heaved, mocking you, " that I don't fuckin' have, huh?"

"yuuji—" you tried but your mouth felt so awfully dry, your moans lodged in your throat helplessly as your boyfriend pressed your face further into the couch. trying again, you panted, "ple-please yuu—"

smack!

"hngh— fuck mmph—" your body jolted in retort as yuuji planted another smack to your ass, immediately soothing the skin with his broad hands.

your eyes burned, cheek rubbing against the couch fabric so helplessly as you tried clawing at whatever you could find.

manicured fingers dug into the the couch, and yuuji chased your actions mercilessly with deep plunges inside your quivering cunt. he growled out, "answer my fucking question."

but you were rendered useless.

your vision was growing hazy, air supply cut off from the way your face was pressed up and into the sofa. despite the sizzling hot sting against your ass, and the stretch of your thighs, a gnawing feeling churned in the pit of your stomach.

"ca-can't breathe—" your rasped, your manicured nails still digging into the soft surface as you tried to shake your boyfriend off of yourself with helpless trembles, "g-get off—"

"can't breathe?" yuuji repeated, using one broad hand to catch both of your wrists and pin them behind your back. vision misty, and light-headed — suddenly, you were pulled up into something hard.

despite his harsh actions, despite the relentless rolls of his cock into your gummy walls, yuuji husked behind you, "better?"

and you nodded, too cockdrunk to stop the man from using you like his personal fleshlight.

your boyfriend's heat radiated out of his chest and seeped into your aching bones as his cock still rammed into your heat. you finally breathed, inhaling deep breaths before the smacks of his pelvis against yours made you shake yet again.

your writhed your wrists, fighting against his phantom-like grip on you as your muscles spasmed and contracted, "y-yuu 'mgonna shit— 'm— cummin cummin'—"

"huh?" the jock gasped as your snug cunt pulsated around his rigid member. each little spasm of your walls against his ridged veins made the jock plow into you harder, "hah, cumming?"

you nodded, shivering and straining against his iron grip, "so close 'm so— close."

and then he stopped.

yuuji itadori pulled out of your snug cunt in one swift snap of his hips, leaving your syrupy folds clenching around thick air — so easily abandoned.

you turned your head back, jaw sagging open in a helpless whimper as tears brimmed your eyes, "wh-why'd you sto-p..?"

but the younger itadori was in the mood for no games tonight. flipping you onto your back, the man threw you onto the couch as if you weighed nothing to him.

"yuu—" your breath trembled as you tried supporting your jelly-like body on your elbows, staring up at the man who held held no remorse in his eyes for the way he was destroying you.

his hair was matted, locks clinging onto his forehead as drops of dew clung onto his skin. his skin was dusted pink, as his heavy cockhead smeared drops of his pre against his thigh.

"you know..." yuuji husked, tugging his mushroom tip lazily as he stared down at your shaky physique, "you still haven't answered my question."

"wh-what question?"

and yuuji cocked an eyebrow despite knowing better than to blame you for how mush-brained state.

the man guided his leaky tip to your hooded clit, massaging the thundering nub in slow circles, "what is it about kuna that's so much better than me, huh?"

"i d-dunno... what're y-you saying..?" you bit your wobbling lips, blinking your eyes so slow as he kept nudging his tip against your sensitive bud, "he's... he's just my best-frie..nd oh—"

"awh, he's your best-f-friend?" yuuji repeated, now tracing his tip in skilled eight shapes, "that's it..?"

and despite having half a mind, you nodded desperately, "y-yeah, yuu."

"tch," the man traced his tip downwards, collecting your honeydew on his hardened cock before plunging within your heat in one swift motion.

you gasped, toes curling as the younger itadori found himself ramming a bruising pace into your sopping entrance, "fu-fuck s-slower—"

but yuuji itadori was in no mood for mercy. bringing up a sharp hand to your face, he pulled your cheeks into a forced pout, "if he's just your best-f-friend, hah why is that fucker always just— hovering around?"

"i—" you tried to speak but your words were a wet gargle, constricting within your throat at his harsh actions, "mm—"

"can't speak?" and somehow your frenzied nod just made itadori clutch your skin in his grasp tighter — till he was sure he was indenting your face with his fingerprints.

"yuuji—" you groaned, words still so hard to come-by as he kept fucking you dumber and dumber. but at this point, yuuji didn't even bother knowing your answer, instead pussydrunkenly rambling on, "a-and the fuck is he so cocky about? you're my girlfriend, right? arent'cha?"

you nodded, and he pressed a sickly sweet kiss to your forced pout, "attagirl."

but he continued rambling, his words forgone and stupid, "and fuck does he think? that just— just cause he knows you longer, he—" yuuji nodded at you, "right? i've known you the sa-same amount of time auh— shiiit."

and despite not understanding whatever shit yuuji was spewing from his parched mouth, you nodded in agreement.

"alright," the man kissed your jaw in a wicked hurry, "you don't—" a sudden, deep shove within your velvety hole made the jock stutter out, "y-you love me right... you don't love him."

and he let go of your aching jaw, kissing up the cheeks as if to soothe your skin, "say you love me. say it."

"i—" your eyes rolled back as his persistent shoves hit right in the bullseye — marking your womb with his copious pre. despite your scratchy throat, and bruising thighs, you moaned out, "i- only love you, yu-uji. ohmygod—"

"—good." yuuji groaned, feeling his length twitch in anticipation as the muscles of his thighs tightened, "cause i'll kill him— I'll kill him if he tries to take you from me."

and with that warning, the jock released thick ropes of cum into your saccharine pussy. the liquid filled you to the brim, a drop or two beading out of your cunt and sliding down his length helplessly.

"sh—shit." yuuji collapsed on top of you, breathing in your scent and licking at your sweat-soaked skin like a man crazed, "i—i'll kill him if he... if he takes you away."

"o-okay."

"'m serious."

"hm." you raked your trembling hands over his sweaty locks, "'sokay, i'm yours."

"good."

creaak!

"oh mY GOD—" your roommate practically yelled, "WHY ARE YOU BUTT-NAKED IN MY LIVING ROOM, ITADORI?!"

managing some resemblance of coherence, yuuji snapped his head back to look at the green-haired athlete standing shell-shocked at the door, "S-SENPAI?!"

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!" and with that the zenin family member pulled the door shut.

"i—" yuuji snapped his head back at you — you, who had just been sobered up from maki's yelling, "we should probably... p-put some clothes on."

the jock nodded, "probably."

well, you could always continue the conversation in your own room. after all, yuuji itadori did have inhumane stamina.

a/n: i did not suffer through days of creative block just to give up on this bitch. here, have something i guess..? idek if this was any good omg but i hope it doesn't suck too much :// this idea was suggested by @peekawoocc literally ages back, so, due credits to her! tagging: @peekawoocc @9rvm @iminlovewqr0w @jellibean2018 @kingofthe-egirls [took me so long ahaha :/] m.list

5:39 AM and im still conscious, baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!