synopsis: it's natural for a guy to have a boner. or short story about how calebâs dick realised that he was in love in you sooner than he did.
tags: mdni, alternative universe, university, slowburn, mastrubation, dirty fantasies, dirty talks, mention of the alcohol, caleb is your bestie, he's being a pervert kinda, mention of his possessiveness.
wc: 2.3k.
donât get any wrong ides, caleb has always been a description of the perfect best friend. when you two were just kids, he protected you from stupid boys who were eager to tease you about anything they could. when you tripped and fell during the games, he was the one who treated your wounds. and when you were crying, caleb was there, he made you smile like nobody could.
and through ages nothing changed.
heâs still your main protector. heâs the only person you can rely on without any doubts. and youâre the only one for him as well. because who can understand him better than you do? who can read him like an open book? who can be as understanding, sweet, amusing and kind as you are?
for caleb, no such person exists. his focus always has been on you. because even though you two went to university, caleb still saw you as a little girl who needed to be taken care of.
you were seen together quiet often. caleb didnât leave your side even for a minute, knowing that your sweet demeanour like a red rag to many guys. he didnât want you to get hurt by those bastards who ogle you every damn day. he didnât want to see your crying, especially because of such petty creatures.
thatâs what heâs been telling himself for a while. youâre his best friend, childhood friend, and heâs a man. heâs supposed to protect you, right? itâs only his duty as a good friend, nothing less or more.
but perhaps, lines between friendship and something more intimate are blurry when it comes to your so-called friendship. you really were always and everywhere together. you often spent the night at each other's places, fell asleep hugging each other, cooked breakfast for each other. caleb scared other guys away from you like he had right to do so. and his hand was always resting on your waist.
you were no better sometimes. you pouted when some girl gave him chocolates threw a tantrum. you crawled up to him with hugs when you were cold. you always fell asleep next to him during thunderstorms.
but you both thought it was something normal. you grew up together, of course youâd be clingy with each other, that was understandable. plus, you didnât have friends, except caleb. i mean real friends whoâll be there despite any circumstances. and you know for sure caleb isnât as close with any of the guys as he is with you.
anyway, you both didnât pay much attention to it. you were pretty content with everything you had, even if sometimes it made your mates laugh.
they noticed the chemistry between you a long time ago. and they arenât afraid of bringing this up when thereâs such opportunity. especially gideon â caleb's classmate at the faculty of physics. this guy canât help but smile every time when caleb acts possessive over you, finding amusing his blindness to his own feelings.
âah, this little dress suits her, by the way,â gideon comments during the one of university parties that you attend very often.
he doesnât mean what he says. no, he means it. youâre wearing black dress that leaves nothing to imagination, but itâs not like he is staring at you, really. you are no-no for gideon since thereâs obviously something going on between you and caleb.
he just loves teasing caleb about you.
because the way calebâs head snaps to his direction as soon as he hears those sinful words is the piece of fucking art. the way he tenses, his jaw clenched, his face is red from embarrassment and something else⌠god, caleb is so funny, he just doesnât realise it.
âyeah, we bought it together,â he murmurs for no reason. no one literally asked him to reveal this detail, but he feels obligated to.
gideon chuckles. he sips his drink, looking at caleb attentively, and contemplates what to do next. youâre chatting with girls, sitting comfortably on the sofa in a few meters away, and gideon has enough time to rile him up.
and heâs not dumb to waste this opportunity.
âiâm shocked how you allowed her to wear it,â gideon continues, seeing displeasure flickers on calebâs face.
is he jealous? yeah, he is! probably he didnât initially like this idea. university parties can be messy, especially when alcohol is involved, and everyone is ogling you at this rate. and knowing how possessive caleb can be over his best friend, gideon doesnât doubt he didnât support your choice of clothes.
heâs blushing. heâs clenching his fists.
heâs definitely jealous.
âallow? is she some kind of pet or something?â caleb says, giving his friend a disapproving glance. âshe decided to wear it, i supported her. this dress suits her, i mean. and iâm not her boyfriend to forbid her something, ya knowâ.
okay, he's not jealous. he's just mad at the thought of being an idiot towards you. allow you to do something? forbid you to do something? god, he's not an insecure teenager! and heâs not some jackass too! how can gideon think so low of him?
despite his attitude, caleb would rather encourage you. if you want to do this, heâll be the first who will show a thumbs up and say that you are the best. it includes your choice of clothes. yeah, caleb didnât appreciate the way guys look at you like youâre a piece of meat. but at the same time, youâre not the one who must limit yourself. youâre beautiful, divine, you have every right to show off your body. and if someone has a bad thought, caleb will interfere and kick their asses. simple as that.
âthatâs good, actually, sheâs a sight, caleb. have you seen her legs?â gideon continues, choosing another way to rile him up.
âshut up, dumbass, and stop staring at her, sheâs not toy on display,â caleb tells him, but he does look at your legs.
he does agree youâre a fucking sight tonight.
the dress you two picked out suited you. it showed off your shoulders, collarbone, it accentuated your legs... god, caleb wondered how soft your skin was. you loved using a lot of creams and gels. you always smelled... nice. and he would give anything to just bury his nose in your neck and...
he shakes his head, averts his gaze and drains a glass of beer in one gulp. heâs tipsy. he needs to stop drinking until he loses all senses of sanity. he canât think of his best friend in this way, can he? youâre like a little sister to him, for godâs sake!
why does he want to taste your skin then? why does he wants to see everything? lead you away from the crowd, take off this damn dress and show you exactly why he can be considered as a good, loyal boy.
fuck, it is hot here. and it is hard for him to return his thoughts in the right direction.
and your sudden approach doesnât make it easier. he wasnât watching you for one minute, trying to regain his composure, and during these seconds you managed to sneak away from your company because you noticed his strange behaviour.
his cheeks were red. he was tense. he was⌠he wasnât caleb you knew.
itâs only natural you felt a pang of concern, right? you donât want to neglect your friendâs feeling for the sake of the good party, so thatâs why youâre here, standing right in front of caleb who needs anything but you at this exact moment.
âhey,â you call him, your hand lands on his forehead to check his temperature. âyouâre burning!â
jesus christ.
caleb naturally jolts, gentleness of your touch goes to his lower abdomen, and he finds himself at the strange state. it's like he has a fever. somewhere in the groin area. and his thoughts are confused. and he feels terribly awkward and confused.
aroused.
but heâs dumb to understand that.
âno,â he manages to mutter, his voice sounds raspy and husky.
your concern skyrockets. is he sick? he can be! he could agree on attending this party because he didnât want to disappoint you, yeah. but at the same time, he could feel terrible. you know him! and you know he could sacrifice his own health for you.
and he can sacrifice your friendship for the taste of you right now.
âcaleb, is your throat sore? really, letâs go home,â you continue, his heart does a flip at the sound of your voice.
so⌠sweet. he bets itâd sounds even sweeter once he has his hands on you. once he has you in his bed, completely naked, vulnerable and opened for him. he knows your body with be responsive. he knows youâll be a mess by the time heâs done with you.
he knows he wants to lift up your dress and just...
âcaleb, buddy,â gideon interferes, trying to get his attention. standing behind you, he lowers his eyes, mutters some word inaudibly and caleb...
calebâs is ready to die right here from the embarrassment. understanding his friend, he offers you lopsided smile and quickly excuses himself, heading towards the bathroom. you want to follow him, but gideon stops you, grabbing your writs gently.
âheâs fine, just canât stand his alcohol,â gideon reassures you. caleb doesnât need your presence now because itâll only make things worse, heâs aware of that.
âbutâŚâ you start, but you are cut off by the giggle from the guy.
âdonât worry, heâs not sick or something like this,â gideon says nonchalantly. ârelax, sweetie, heâll be there in ten minutesâ.
he doesnât lie. caleb isnât sick. and he really canât stand alcohol because this damn beer, combined with the sinfully beautiful dress, did a thing to his body. thing that has never happened before.
caleb doesn't even know how to react to this. as soon as he slams the door shut and leans his back against it, he takes a deep breath, his hands shaking, his thoughts still a mixture of desire and guilt. fuck, he need to do something, anything. he can't stay here for long. youâll be even more concerned.
fuck.
itâs not his fault. itâs not your fault. itâs nobodyâs fault, yeah? heâs just a man. he can react⌠this way. itâs a natural thing.
fuck.
no, itâs not.
âfucking hell,â caleb mutters, opening his eyes and looking down at his boner. âitâs not okay, dumbass. you canât be aroused because of your best friend. but god, sheâs so damn perfectâŚâ
he tries to get rid of the feeling of guilt when he unzips his jeans. he tries not to think about the fact that you are his best friend. heâs just tipsy, heâs just aroused. heâll deal with it.
wrapping his hand around his dick, caleb closes her eyes, but everyhing he has in mind is your image. you were so worried about him a few minutes ago, you were so cute, so innocent, so⌠his. he holds back a low moan when he starts moving his hand, up and down, up and down.
would you be happy if you knew what he was doing right now? he doesn't care anymore. he just wants to cum. preferably... on your worried face. fuck, you'd look even more beautiful with his cum streaming down your face. you'd still look at him innocently and sweetly, even when he was rubbing the head of his cock over your swollen lips.
or over your swollen pussy lips. itâd be even better, damn it. he wants to rub his dick against your wetness. he wants to hear your gentle moans, your pleas to put it in and finally fuck you.
âpips, youâre so⌠fuck, youâre so tight,â he mutters, starting to move his fist faster and faster.
he is completely absorbed in his fantasies. he pictured you wrapping your legs around his waist while he pounded his hips into you at an animalistic pace. how he would leave hickeys your neck, your collarbones, your chest.
fuck, he wants to take you from behind too! he wants to slap your ass, kiss your back, choke you and make you a fucking mess.
âshit, pips, iâm close, can i⌠fuck, can i cum inside? fuck, fuck, fuck, â he curses under his breath, his dick twitches, and before caleb can react, he cums into his fist with a shamefully loud groan, folding in half from the force of the orgasm.
five minutes he comes to his senses. five minutes he washes his hands, looks at his clothes, he doesnât want to have his cum all over his shirt. and five minutes later he comes out to you, smiling, as if nothing had happened.
as if he hadn't jerked off to the bright image of his best friend before.
âletâs go home, party is dull,â caleb tells you, hugging you and ruffling your hair.
you sigh in relief and nod, wanting to leave this place as much as he does. your concerns fade, because caleb seems completely fine. and itâs the only thing that matters to you right now. you didnât know what happened when he was in the bathroom, but you assumed he just washed his face, puked probably. in other words, he did everything he needed to sober up.
the drive to your house was quiet. you were falling asleep on caleb's shoulder, and he was thinking about what happened. and he came to the conclusion that it would never happen again.
his dick would never get hard again to the image of his best friend.
although it would be better to say that it would not get hard again today.
pairings: childhood friend!Caleb x you, yearning!Rafayel x you
The exhibit was buzzing, an endless current of clinking champagne glasses, soft piano music playing in the background, and low, laughter from wealthy people. You stood just behind Rafayel as his so-called "personal bodyguard" for the night, even though he barely let you stray more than three feet from his side. How were you supposed to do your job if you can't even check out the places you will potentially find sketchy when this man has serious separation anxiety issues?
You mentally sigh as you try not to complain too much. The cocktail gown Tara picked out for you hugged your figure too well to be accidental. It was backless, with a thigh slit just high enough to make moving through the crowd feel like an art form. Will definitely come in handy just in case you need to make a run for it. Your hair was elegantly pinned up, leaving the long curve of your neck on full display. And of course, he noticed.
"Necks are tragically overlooked," Rafayel murmured, leaning close as you passed a particularly loud group of investors. "But yours... makes me consider painting something new."
You coughedâchoked, and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Please don't flirt with me in a room full of people trying to buy your art."
"I'm not flirting," he said, eyes glinting, smiling sheepishly. "I'm admiring. Which is kind of part of my job."
You hated how warm your face felt. Before you could respond, he pulled something small from his suit pocket. A hairpin, gleaming like it had been plucked from a reef under moonlight. Purple like dusk, fading into oceanic blue and pale coral pink.
"Here," he said. "It reminded me of you."
You blinked at it. "It looks expensive." Truly, the craftsmanship looked meticulous; it was apparent that whoever created this was not just some apprentice.
"That's because it is." He grinned. "Now turn around."
Your fingers hesitantly hovered over your hair as you turned around, the warmth in your cheeks increasingly getting hotter. Rafayel's hands were steady as he tucked the pin into your bun, brushing a few stray strands behind your ear. His fingers grazed the side of your jaw. Neither of you spoke for a moment, but his eyes were brimming with admiration, satisfied that he picked out the right design for you. He went out of his way to get the pin customized, going back and forth with the master craftsman for revisions to bring his vision to life.
"Perfect," he said at last, but his voice had dropped a little lower. "Now you look like a sea nymph."
You cleared your throat and turned away, pretending you needed another glass of sangria to avoid meeting his eyes.
By the time the crowd thinned and the event came to its natural end, your heels were killing you. Jesus, how does this man handle this line of work? The socialization alone would've sent you going insane.
"I'll call a cab," you muttered under your breath, adjusting the strap of your bag.
Rafayel scoffed, already loosening the collar of his dress shirt. "You're not going home in a cab. I'm driving you."
"Youâ" you hesitated. "I can manageâ"
His eyes dragged slowly over you. "You're limping."
"It's not that bad." You avoided his gaze, pretending to stand upright despite the sting of pain your heels grazed on your skin.
"It's enough for me to intervene." His voice dropped again. "You didn't seem to mind the last time I drove you?" He tried to catch your eyes, but you flushed. Violently. You did mind. That was the problem. You hadn't stopped thinking about it for days.
"I promise to behave," he added, lips twitching to hold back a grin. "Unless you don't want me to."
"Rafayel." You attempt to warn him off, only to be greeted by his head tilting with a smile plastered on his face.
"Yes?"
You groaned, giving up. He was right; it would be a pain to take a cab when your feet hurt like hell. It's not exactly fun to commute alone at night either. "Fine. Just... drop me off and don't say anything weird."
"No weirdness," he agreed, raising both hands innocently. "Just my car. You. That coral pin. And the memory of you moaning my nameâ"
You swatted his arm and limply stalked toward the exit, ignoring how the heat pooled between your thighs just from thinking back on it. You hated that he made you feel this way. Even more, you hated that Caleb hadn't. Years of longing, and he would constantly hesitate the split second you're about to cross the line of 'just friends. ' It hurt that it almost feels like he's not willing to take that risk with you.
You weren't supposed to give in again. The whole ride back, you'd repeated that to yourself like a mantra. You even tried to keep your answers clipped, your eyes glued forward on the road, and hands folded in your lap like a perfect, well-behaved passenger princess. But Rafayel had other plans. And his knuckles brushing your thigh at a red light made everything inside you burn.
"I should go," you whispered once he parked. "I said I wasn't going toâ"
But the way he looked at you said everything else otherwise.
"Just one kiss, cutie," he murmured, voice rough, eyes pleading. "One." His purple orbs stared at you with so much desire. Your heart swells at the thought of him wanting you the way you longed for someone to want you.
It was never just one.
You ended up in the backseat, cradled on his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, his lips feverish against yours.
His hands were all over youâpalming your thighs, dragging your pretty dress bunched up around your waist, grazing the curve of your ass. His coat had been thrown somewhere on the floor, your hair now in a messy bun. Your fingers were twisted in the collar of his dress shirt, tugging him closer, and closerâfuck, everything was just messy. You could hear his desperate breath hot against your skin, the neediness growing stronger when you felt his thick member poking through the friction as you grinded on him.
And just when you were sure he'd pull your panties aside and take it even furtherâhe stopped. His forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting like you'd just run a marathon.
"Fuck, noâneed to control myself," he said, jaw tight. "I want to do this right."
You blinked, still dazed. "What?"
He breathed. "You're not just someone to fuck in the backseat of a car." His thumb brushed your cheek.
You swear your heart skipped a beat. This man was everything a woman could ever ask for. And just like that, he tucked your dress back into place, fixed your straps, and reached for your heels. He carried you to your doorstep bridal style, like you weighed nothing, heels dangling from his fingers, your coral hairpin glinting beneath the porch light.
He lowered you gently, his eyes lingering just a moment longer, from your flushed face to your parted lips, then to the delicate glimmer in your undone hair.
"You really shouldn't let men like me kiss you like that," he whispered.
You didn't reply. Heart pounding way too loud in your chest, your emotions exploding like fireworks with whatever it was he was making you feel.
He kissed your forehead. "Goodnight, cutie."
And he was gone, walking away with his hands in his pockets. His touch is still warm on your skin.
You were still catching your breath when you opened the door and stepped inside... only to freeze in your tracks.
Caleb sat on your couch, elbows on his knees, still in full DAA uniform. His jacket and pilot gloves were on the table. You hear the faint clinking of dog tags together.
His eyes locked onto yours. Then to your smudged lipstickâand finally to your disheveled hair. The wrinkled dress, the bare feet, and the coral hairpin still glinting on your loose bun like a scarlet letter of evidence.
You didn't even have time to speak.
"Where were you?" He asked, tone low but evidently tensed.
You swallowed. "Work." You didn't expect him to be home. Especially not at this time and day.
His brows furrowed. "That doesn't look like work." His gaze dragged down your body, eyes examining every inch that he could find. "And who gave you that?" He motioned toward the pin.
"Calebâ"
He stood, voice clipped. "Were you with him?"
You stared back, guilt flashing across your face before you could even hide it. You couldn't meet his eyes, fingers clenching the hem of your dress as your feet curled against the cold floor. You stared at the ground in shame.
He was still looking at you, eyes burning through you with that unreadable, wounded gazeâand the longer the silence stretched, the worse the knot in your chest got.
Until he finally noticed it.
His voice went sour. "What the hell is that?"
You inhaled sharply. You didn't need a mirror to know exactly what he was talking about. Rafayel had left it on purpose. Just below your jaw, just far below enough to be seen if your head tilted the wrong way. You still couldn't answer him. What the fuck were you supposed to say?
Caleb took a step closer, his voice strained with disbelief. "He marked you?"
You flinched. You hated this side of him because it only confuses you.
"I asked you a question." He said it slowly.
You finally looked up at him, and there it was. That look. No sign of his puppy eyes that comforted you like before. This one was full of rage. Or was it jealousy? But why would he? Your head hurts. He was confusing you again by acting like he cares this much.
"Caleb, I'm not doing this with you right now," you muttered, trying to brush past him. But he blocked you.
"You let him touch you like that?"
Your fists clenched. "Why do you even care?"
He glared. "Because he's not good enough for you."
You laughed bitterly. "Oh, but you are?"
He froze. Your voice cracked, but you pushed forward anyway. "You don't get to act like this. You don't. You've never said a fucking thing about what we are, Caleb. Not once. You treat me like your kid sister, and then suddenly you get mad when someone else looks at me?"
He said nothing, his purple eyes intimidatingly staring back at you as his jaw clenches like you were testing his patience.
"You don't own me."
His eyes flickered, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might crackâthen you felt it before you even saw it happen before your eyes. The crushing weight on your body, the invisible gravity pressing down on your shoulders, on your spineâuntil you collapsed back onto the couch with a gasp.
"Calebâ!"
He was in front of you in a second, towering over, both arms caged around you on either side of the couch cushion, palms pressed into the seat like he was trying to keep himself from doing something he'd deeply regret.
Your eyes widened in realization. "Are you serious right now? You used your evol on me?!"
"You're not listening," he growled, voice trembling with restraint.
"Because you're acting insane!" you shouted, struggling to move under the weight of it. "What, are you trying to punish me?! scare me into never talking to Rafayel again?!"
"He touched you." his voice cracked, now a whisper. "And you let him."
Tears burned in your eyes; you felt so betrayed. First, he was mad; then he used his evol on you, and now you were just so frustrated from it all. Your chest hurts because you feel the need to defend Rafayel, and you know that if you did, it would only make Caleb angrier.
"Caleb," you snapped, "I was never yours to begin with. You don't get to do this."
His breath was ragged, hot against your cheek. You could feel his entire body shaking above you. It pains you that you reached this point; unsure of when you finally couldn't tell just how much of this was 'just friends. ' He looked down at you, and the guilt crashed in all at once.
The evol dropped, and you gasped as the pressure vanished from your body. Your hands immediately pushed against his chest. He backed up, just barely, and the realization started settling in his eyes.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, pipsqueak. Iâ"
You were still shaking, his evol was no joke. "Don't ever do that to me again."
He stood there, frozen, the weight of his actions anchoring him in place. Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of you, guilt painting every inch of his face.
"I'm sorry, pips," he whispered.
You looked away. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, painfully gentle this time. Like he didn't deserve to touch you at all.
"I'm your gege," he murmured. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. That's all I wanted."
But your heart was racing, because it wasn't just that. And he knew it too. The silence between you throbbed with tension. You wanted to scream at him. To ask what he really meant. To ask why he wanted to kiss you like he meant it and then run away, only to return and act like you were something he couldn't live without.
All these trains of thought, and yet you still couldn't find the words. Because if he answered wrong, you weren't sure your heart would survive it.
You stared at him, every nerve burning.
"Safe?" you repeated bitterly. "That's what this is all about? You just want me safe?"
Caleb's face twitched, but he didn't speak.
You stepped forward. "I've been in love with you for years, Caleb. And all you've ever done is push me away like I'm some kid who doesn't know what she wants."
He remained silent, eyes unreadable in the dim light of the living room.
"You think Rafayel is the problem?" you snapped, voice slowly rising. "You're the one driving me insane. You're the one I wait for, the one I think about, the one I keep hoping would just say something."
Tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall. You weren't going to let yourself cry first. "And when you finally do something, it's to throw me onto the couch with your evol because you saw a stupid hickey?"
He clenched his jaw, looking away, but you wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.
"I let him touch me because you wouldn't!" you shouted, stepping into his space now, fists curled. "Because you couldn't even look me in the eyes and admit you wanted me. I kept waiting, Caleb. And I got tired of waiting."
He looked back at you, face a mixture of pain and desperation. You feel your chest tighten up again.
"Why can't you just say it?" Your voice cracked. "Why can't you just claim me if you're so damn obsessed with keeping me away from everyone else?"
Your fists hit his chest. Once. Then again, over and over.
He didn't stop you, didn't even try to block you. He just took it as he backed into the wall, arms down at his sides as your hits turned weaker, until your voice cracked entirely and your fists hit his chest one final time before you crumpled against him, trembling.
"I love you," you whispered, finally admitting it out loud. "God, I love you, and I hate that I do."
Caleb's hands rose, shaking as they gently cupped your face.
And then he crashed his mouth onto yours.
You can't tell if he was angry, desperate, or just starving after all these years.
He cursed against your lips, pulling away just long enough to say, "Fuck, is this how he kissed you too?"
You gasped, but he didn't let you answer. His hand tilted your chin up roughly, claiming you in another bruising kiss that swallowed your cry.
"Did he touch you like this?" he growled, voice ragged as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you in closer. "Did he make you melt like this?"
You whimpered into his mouth, already breathless. "Stop it..."
"No. Not until you forget every goddamn thing he ever did to you," he rasped, forehead pressed against yours, breath shaking. "I want to ruin every memory of him. God, I want to erase it. All of it."
You stared at him, heartbroken yet still so deeply in love.
"You can't erase him," you whispered. "But you can be the one I remember more."
His hands tightened, but he was gentler this time around. None of that tension from earlier. Kissing you again, only deeper. It wasn't about jealousy anymore. It was everything he'd been holding back. Every longing glance. Every almost-kiss. Every sleepless night spent thinking of your pretty face.
And when you melted into him, lips parting under his, he knew:
You were already his, long before he was yours. Even if it took him too fucking long to realize. Took him this long to finally cross that stupid line.
"Fuck I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For making you wait. For thinking I could protect you by keeping my distance. I didn't realize I was just... hurting you."
You didn't respond, leaning in to rest your forehead against his chest. Breathing in the scent of his uniform, of him. Your Caleb. He held you in silence, his familiar warm embrace calming every nerve of your body. And for a while, that was enough.
But in the quiet aftermath, with emotions left raw, and a budding love newly confessed, neither of you noticed the glint of something small near the base of the couch, nestled just between the folds of the carpet and the shadowed wood flooring.
A beautiful coral-shaped hairpin. Its delicate edges shimmered with shades of deep purple, iridescent pink, and ocean blue, still catching the light, glistening with the meaning of him. Rafayel had left a mark. And you hadn't even realized it was still there.
lovelove everyone who's still reading this far! promise I'm trying to cook smth good (ËśË áľ ËËś)
zayne x non-mc!fem reader -- married, but you worry it's only because mc (emcee) had left and was never sure on when she'd return. six years later, emcee moves back to linkon, and you feel your worst nightmares start to fester. self-indulgent angst (tw: miscommunication), mentions of alcohol and getting drunk , use of Y/N
wc: 5.4k | part 1
a/n: thank you to everyone who has interacted with and enjoyed part 1! i sincerely hope that this final part does not disappoint. stay safe and hydrated, and i hope you all are well <3
You can do this for as long as you need to, no matter how draining it may be.
When you wake in the morning, you find yourself tucked into your blanket the way that Zayne would often do if he felt the material wasnât doing enough to keep you warm. A pang of guilt makes itself known when you come to the realization, and itâs clear that Zayne had to leave early again. The side of his bed is cool beneath your fingers, but after a single grip of the cotton, you fling the blanket off your figure and get up to start your morning routine.
Itâs a tiny hassle to make your own coffee and figure out a quick breakfast without Zayne â tiny in the sense that you had done it yourself before having moved in with him, and you shouldnât be so reliant on a partner whose schedule is as crazy as his. There had been a time when things were more consistent and regular, but ever since Emcee returnedâŚ
Like clockwork, you step on the scale in your shared closet, letting the device gather all the numbers it needs. It gives you a chance to observe the sorry state of your feet. The bandaids that you slapped on are worn at the edges, your toenails looking a little rough, wrinkles and blisters decorating other parts of your toes. You feel the roughness on the balls and arches underneath. When you step off the scale, you move towards the counter and lean back against it so you can lift a foot up and get a better look at the backs of your heels.
The sight of them makes you wince internally, bloodied and skin peeling. Once pristine, the cotton pads of the bandaids are splotched with crimson, paint from yours truly. You take little care in replacing the bandages and dolloping some antibiotic ointment on them to make you feel like youâre doing something at least. After getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and deciding to buy coffee on the way instead, youâre out the door in your most comfortable pair of work flats.
As you walk towards the nearest bus station, your phone vibrates, and the music in your earbuds softens before returning to its original volume. The notification tone sends a spike of anxiety through your system, your fingers shaking as they push things around and fish your phone out from your bag.
Husband đ:
Have you left for work yet? I can come back and drop you off.
Itâd be rude not to reply.
You:
I have, so no need. Thank you though.
An immediate reply.
Husband đ:
Donât walk around too much today, and replace those bandaids when youâre on your lunch break.
You:
Okay, Iâll try.
Needless to say, you donât â more like, you canât. No one in your office has bandaids for some reason, nor can they remember where the first-aid kit is. To be fair, you hadnât planned on changing them had Zayne not said anything.
The hours tick by, and your boss stops by your desk to ask if everything was okay yesterday. You thought you could fake it, but your voice is telling when you reply, âOh yeah, everythingâs just fine. Weâre fine.â Your boss cocks an eyebrow at your tone, and you assume a facial expression that screams, âReally, weâre not fine but thereâs nothing you can do about it, so thank you for even asking.â
Just as youâre putting your stuff away to leave work for the day, your phone buzzes.
Husband đ:
Donât forget to eat dinner. I have a late surgery. Also, kettle corn is not a meal.
You canât help but quirk a smile at his words, as they rarely fail to elicit a reaction from you. But youâre tired, still feeling the effects of everything that happened yesterday, and you type out a quick response.
You:
Okay. Good luck.
In another part of the city, a man with hazel eyes reads his phone for a little too long, his eyes squinting slightly as they circle around those three words. Your bland, unfeeling response is highly unusual and unsettles him. But he has to toss it aside somewhere in his mind so that he can focus wholeheartedly on saving this upcoming patient.
You, on the other hand, have decided to camp out at the bookstore again until late. Unable to hide forever, you slip back outside and are greeted by a slight chill in the air. It seeps through your thin blouse, and it isnât until your head hits your pillow that it is, in fact, the middle of a hot summer.Â
-
Zayne has texted you more this week than he has in the last month.
At first, you thought things may be returning to a sense of normalcy, and that whatever you heard come out of his mouth that fateful day was just a fluke. But when he mentioned offhandedly that Emcee was gone for a week or two because of a mission a few hours away, you deflated and berated yourself for even hoping.
The second choice, werenât you?
Every day, there is something. A reminder to change your bandaids, dry humor, some slightly snarky comment about the highly incompetent doctor in the neurology department that he swears mustâve bought his way to become board-certified, the occasional picture of his makeshift meals, general questions about your day â you donât know how to feel about all of it. Because what happens when Emcee comes back?
What happens when you can no longer be the priority again?
The very question makes you throw a shot of soju back at this company dinner to celebrate someoneâs promotion. You had taken it as a chance to, once again, stay away from your actual sanctuary, while also getting a free meal. A win in your books, right?
Even in your drunken haze, when your phone, face down, vibrates on your table by your chopsticks, you know immediately who it is. When you flip your phone over, your husbandâs face greets you, and you have a slight moment of panic. Did you ever get around to telling him you were at a work dinner tonight?
âFuck,â you murmur before nonchalantly swiping up the green circle.
âHello?â you quietly answer, your voice already a little heavy.
Zayne seems to pick up on it almost immediately. âIs everything okay?â
Before you can answer, a crowd roars at some drinking game happening two tables down, and your phone cannot be bothered to filter it out.
âWhere are you?â he asks.
âWork dinner,â you reply while trying to step away from your table and towards somewhere quieter.
âWas it an impromptu dinner?â
âNo,â you say, tone sheepish and sluggish, much like your steps towards the bathroom. âI think I forgot to tell you about it.â
âDo you need me to pick you up? Iâm about to leave the hospital.â
You pull your phone back and search for the time. Was it already 10:30PM?
âYou donât have to, itâs late. You should go home and get some sleep.â
Several miles away, a tiny layer of ice decorates Zayneâs right hand.
âI canât imagine you need to be there any longer. Surely your boss would understand. Where are you?â
For the life of you, you could not recall the name of the restaurant. Looking around, you hum, almost lackadaisical, until you catch sight of a flashy sign. âI think itâs called Chodang? Korean barbeque.â
âStay where you are. Iâm on my way.â
âNo,â you nearly whine, âitâs okayyy.â
There are the jingling of keys and two quick beeps in the background. âY/N.â
His voice is final, stern, and sobers you just a tiny bit.
âThank you,â you surrender with the cadence of an apology, your tone sheepish.
âWait inside. Iâll be there in ten minutes. Donât forget to gather all your things.â
âYessir,â and fingers mock salute to no one before hanging up. Well, at least you can finally be done with this event. If youâre lucky, you wonât have a hangover in the morning.
When you start grabbing your jacket and bag, your coworkers ask if youâre leaving, and you have to pretend that you donât want to. âMy husbandâs picking me up.â
âWell, thereâs nothing you can do about that then. See you tomorrow!â
You wave goodbye to everyone and do your best to remain as steady as possible. The warm summer night is a nice contrast to the aircon that had no business blasting as hard as it did. Your mind drifts off into another world as you stare off at nothing, eyes unfocused and slightly glazed over. Without any warning, you find yourself thrown back to the day you walked aimlessly around the park.
âPerhaps, but thereâs no point in dwelling on the what-ifs.â
That was not a âwhat-ifâ you could ignore. How could you, you think to yourself, a half-sob sitting lodged in your throat. Would you even be here in this position now, waiting for Zayne, your husband, to pick you up late at night out of love and concern? Would you have been a spectator at their wedding instead of his bride? Everything that you had built with him would be nonexistent â a life devoid of love, hazel eyes, tender care, and icy hands that could be so warm.
A sleek car pulls up in front of you with a gentle purr of its engine, causing you to blink and remove yourself from your stupor. How interesting, thatâs the same color as Zayneâs car. And make. What are the odds?
Oh, the person even looks like your husband, too. What a coincidence.
Are you forgetting something important?
âY/N,â the person says as they approach you. How do they know your name?
Cold hands hold you by your upper arms in an attempt to steady you. But your vision blurs, and you feel the desperate need to hide. You drop down to a crouch which is not wise in your dress, but thereâs very little else you can do at the moment.
âI have a husband, and heâs coming to pick me up,â you announce with false bravado, voice barely loud enough for the person to hear because you have your head tucked against and your arms wrapped around your knees. To further bolster your argument, you throw up your left hand and turn it so your ring is visible. âSee?â
The person in front of you lets out a deep sigh as if theyâve been dealt with the most cumbersome inconvenience possible, which makes you frown because how dare they display exasperation when they, themselves, of their own volition, approached a drunk person. A rustle of clothes, a shadow overcast, and against better judgment, you peek over your crossed limbs. The person is now crouched in front of you to meet you at eye level, which must be painful for someone so tall. However, it is not the time to feel sorry.
âI do see. In fact, I gave you that ring.â
You splutter and fail to scoff. âNo, you didnât. My husband gave me that ring, and I donât even know who you are!â you argue and whine, failing to pull back when a cold hand rests against your head to pat down stray hairs.
âYouâre telling me I donât look familiar?â
With a pout, you shake your head, petulant and stubborn. âNobody can really look like Zayne. Heâs suuuper handsome, and no one,â you emphasize before wagging a finger in front of you, âcan compare.â
Zayneâs eyes sparkle with mirth and affection, and he canât help but indulge himself just a little bit more.
âIs that so? Anything else I should know about thisâŚZayne?â
Your eyes remain closed as you turn to the side, resting a cheek against your forearms. âHeâs really, really sweet, which is funny because heâs â hiccup â like, obsessed with sweets. Annddd, heâs the best carâ, cardiâ, cardiaâ, heart doctor in the whooolleee world. Zayne saves lots and lots of lives all the time.â
âAnd what if I told you I was a cardiologist as well?â
âDoesnât matter, because Zayne is the best. No one is better than Zayne. Heâs really funny, and he makes me laugh a lot. HeâsâŚheâs the best person I know.â
And he is. He really, truly is. The fondness brings you back to the earlier existential dread that you had been spiraling down before this man appeared in front of you. Itâs the alcohol, you tell yourself as your eyes begin to water, and you canât help the sniffle that ensues.
The sound sends Zayne into a world of panic. He has long been able to differentiate between your crying sniffles and runny-nose-flu sniffles, and he knows youâre not usually an emotional drunk.
âI donât know what I would do without him,â â sniff â âand if heâŚif he ever left me, I know exactly who heâd leave me for.â Your voice warbles and shakes more and more with each word before youâre thrown into a fit of sobs. âAnd I wouldnât blame him be â hic â because,â you try to elaborate before pausing, âbecause..â
Oh god, you canât even get yourself to say it. The thought plagues you as the cries plague your chest, leaving you defenseless with no other option but to let it all out. Itâs the last thing you do before you proceed to pass out from exhaustion.
Zayne catches you just in time and brings your barely conscious body home with a heavy heart. Any other day, he wouldâve found your groggy voice and minor complaints on the way home to be endearing. But now? He doesnât know what to do.
He doesnât know what to do besides taking off your shoes, changing you into your pajamas, and tucking you into bed. He doesnât know what to do besides feeding you honey water by the mouthful because you refuse to drink from a cup like a sober person. He doesnât know what to do when you so readily accept his kisses and the soothing liquid in your sleepy state.
When he finally lays beside you, all he does know is that you two urgently need to talk.
(He hears the last few grains of sand start to trickle through the neck of his glass timer.)
And soon.
-
Your eyes shoot open the next morning, and after recalling everything you word-vomited last night, you want nothing more than to plant yourself six feet under and turn into a tree. That way, you would never have to see Zayne again without being riddled with guilt, stress, and disbelief in your boorish behaviors. You two can never talk about this.
-
Zayne is this close to stabbing a cadaver from the nearby medical schoolâs anatomy lab with a scalpel in a manner that would laugh maniacally in the name of science. What does a man need to do to have just one â one, whole, uninterrupted â day to spend with his wife?
It has to be karma, at this point. He mustâve done something horrific to have emergencies land in his lap at the most inconvenient times possible. After all, it seemed that at every available opportunity, something unavoidable called for his attention. Whether it be an urgent consult, some patient code, nurses knocking urgently at his door, covering for someone at the last minute, Yvonne paging him, literally anything â
At this very moment, one could find Zayne leaning down in surrender at his desk â back hunched over, elbows on the glass, forehead resting against intertwined hands, thumbs rubbing circles into his temples, glasses cast aside atop a messy pile of folders in a haphazard fashion â all while muttering to himself, âI just need to talk to my wife, for the love of Astra.â After a long sigh, he rubs his eyes and looks up, his fingertips now meeting over the bridge of his nose. In his peripheral vision, a glass sand timer sits. To anyone else, it is an innocent decoration â but to him, its very existence now mocks him.
A cherished gift from you, despite its simplicity. But as he reaches over in a daze to turn it on its axel, he cannot help but wonder if it meant anything deeper. When you gifted this to him two years ago, was it supposed to remind him that time with you was finite?
âItâs a three-minute sand timer,â you had said, bouncing in excitement on your feet as you stood in front of his desk and watched him open the box. âI know youâre endlessly busy, but you should at least be able to have a few minutes to yourself when you want or need it.â
Zayneâs vision focuses on the grains of sand trickling through the neck and into the bottom bulb. As usual, he is mildly fascinated by its unique frosty blue hue, its looks more akin to snow gently piling up in a pristine tundra. He remembers the cheeky smile spread across your lips, the adoration in your eyes, the way your hands were crossed behind your back. He remembers holding out his hand, gently gripping yours when it had found its home in his, and pressing his lips against your knuckles as a gesture of gratitude, love, and respect.
âDo you think anything wouldâve happened between you and her had she stayed six years ago?â
Graysonâs words had unnerved him more than one could realize.
Zayne had never questioned his marriage before. Though there had been some hesitancy in moving on from Emcee and acknowledging that he felt some type of affection for you, the one he hadnât been enamored with for many years, he learned to love you. It was easy, in hindsight, and it still is. Even when Emcee had come to the wedding, Zayne had felt nothing but appreciation that she had made it all the way out there despite her busy and chaotic schedule.
But what if she had stayed? What if she never moved across the country?
He groans and leans back in his chair, his head slightly hanging over the top edge. His shoulders protest, and the muscles in his neck and shoulders ache. If there was anything he could wish for at this very moment, it would be your presence behind him, your fingers kneading methodically to relieve him of his discomfort. âYouâre too good to me,â he would say, and you would chuckle. âNonsense,â youâd reply quietly. âIf anyone is too good to me, itâs you.â
âSee, thatâs nonsense,â heâd argue and look over his shoulder, a hand reaching back to cover yours. And you would laugh before placing a tender kiss on his forehead, almost Spiderman style. He would relish in the tiny gesture, so wonderful and full of pure bliss, and know that he could make it through the rest of the day.
The pride in his gait as he has you on his arm during awards ceremonies, the peace in his eyes as he watches you snore in deep sleep, the reverence in his touch when he keeps a hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you with all abandon, the trained ear to hear your voice in a noisy crowd â every moment, every memory, every bit of life that he has lived with you, he would never trade it for the world. It doesnât matter what wouldâve happened if Emcee had stayed put six years ago.
And he really, really, wishes he had told Grayson that.
Zayne wakes his computer screen and pulls up his calendar to see what his schedule looks like for the afternoon and tomorrow. Itâs relatively light compared to the last few months, and he feels like he can finally breathe. Reaching into his whitecoat pocket for his phone, and without looking, he uses your speed dial â 2, and only because 1 is occupied by his voicemail inbox. Each dial tone causes his anxiety to spike, but somebody must be answering his prayers because you answer right before itâs forwarded to your voicemail.
âYes, Zayne?â
âDo you have any meetings tomorrow?â
âOh, umm,â you hum, and he can hear the faint mouse clicks in the back, âthereâs nothing urgent. What is it?â
âTake the day off tomorrow,â he suggests in a gentle tone. âCall in sick, and spend the day with me.â
Zayne receives a few moments of silence, and he can practically hear the gears grinding in your brain, even miles away.
âI miss you,â he adds, his voice like a confession, and you cannot mistake his tone for anything but pure, genuine longing.
â...I miss you, too,â you reply, your own tone just as yearning as his. âIâll do it.â
Zayneâs absolutely thrilled, already logging into his employee portal to submit his sick day absence. âWeâll sleep in, cook something together. Is there anywhere you want to go or do?â
âNot that I can think of right now.â
Good. Thatâs what he was hoping for.
âThen Iâll see you tonight. Let me know if you want me to pick you up from work.â
âWill do. Iâll see you later.â
âOne more thing, Y/N.â
âHm?â
âI love you.â
â...I love you, too.â
âGoodbye, dear.â
âBye, A-Shen.â Call ended chime.
Despite the selfish desire to keep you on the phone until itâs time to leave work, he cannot help but smile at the use of his Chinese nickname. Youâve always said it so affectionately, so full of care and tenderness. His heart rate never fails to spike and simultaneously melt at the sound of it, even after all these years.
Who knew that, to get one free day with his wife, it takes one drunken rant, the impatience of a toddler, and two individuals playing hooky?
-
Part of you wishes you never have to wake up. You have a very, very bad feeling about this day off, seeing as Zayne, of all people, was the one to propose such a day. For the first time in months, you feel his presence as soon as you awaken. You stir, and lithe fingers brush away a few baby hairs with precision and care. Your eyes stay shut. You desperately beg yourself to fall back asleep, to deny reality for just a few more hours.
But Zayne has other plans â he kisses you on the cheek before moving slightly to murmur in your ear, âGood morning, dear.â
Fuck.
âGâmorning,â you mutter. At the very words, your eyes flutter open. His smile is incredibly gentle and so rife with adoration that you find it almostâŚblinding.
 âWhat do you want for breakfast?â
God, even the thought of eating makes you nauseous. âItâs okay, Iâm not hungry.â
Zayne frowns. âButââ
You take an abrupt turn and roll out of bed. âLet me start the coffee and whip up something for you.â Anything to get you away from him, or you might just combust.
A few minutes later, you definitely are.
Zayne has caught up to you now, arms wrapped around your middle as you poke some eggs frying in a pan. His chin rests on your left shoulder, and youâre panicking. It has been so long that your body barely has the muscle memory to act at this moment. Do you remain slightly stiff? Do you relax in his hold? Do you nuzzle your cheek against his? Do you turn to kiss him on the cheek? Do you start light conversation and exchange sweet nothings?
âWhen was the last time we had a day like this?â Zayne asks, his voice soft against your ear.
âItâs been a while,â you reply and attempt to mask the bitterness in your tone.
âI know,â he sighs and squeezes you a little tighter. âThe hospital has been occupying too much of my time.â
Amongst other thingsâŚand people.
Your hands tremble slightly as one lifts the pan and the other uses the spatula to push the eggs onto the empty plate next to the stove. Right on time, two pieces of wheat toast pop out from the toaster, and you place them with the eggs. Zayne reluctantly unlatches himself as you grab the plate without a word and walk them to the round dining table. You place it at his usual seat, a silent gesture for him to sit and wait as you grab a knife, fork, and cup of coffee with a little too much sugar and cream. The best you can do is send him a half-smile before retreating to the sink and busying yourself with the dirty dishes. Washing a frying pan should not take long, but your motions never stray from slow, thoughtful, and methodical.
Thereâs a part of you that never wants this day to end â but the other part wants it to end now. Youâre not ready for this conversation that you bet heâs trying to have.
-
Usually, Zayne would give you some time to settle before sitting down and having serious talks. But today? Heâs restless, abuzz.
The two of you are cuddling on the couch with a random documentary on, his fingers tracing patterns across the length of your arm. They leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and Zayne takes it as a sign to drape the blanket from the back of the couch over both of you, but mainly your legs and lower torso. âThank you,â you whisper.
âBetter?â he murmurs in question.
You hum and nod, allowing yourself to snuggle just a bit further.
Several minutes pass before Zayne bites the bullet.
âDo youâŚremember that work dinner you had last week?â
You gulp, and itâs not exactly subtle.
âMhmm.â
âDo you remember what happened when I picked you up from the restaurant?â
Well shit. âUmmâŚitâs a bit fuzzyâŚâ
Zayne hums, his fingers now running through your hair. âYou said something to me.â
âDid I?â
He stays silent before grabbing the remote, pausing the show, and turning to look you in the eye.
âI think youâve been avoiding me,â he lets out, his gaze sweeping over every inch of your face and studying every little reaction of yours, âand I think it has something to do with what you said that night.
âWell first, thereâs the situation where you couldnât even recognize me, but I also understand that inebriation can greatly affect oneâs vision. What concerned me the most was,â he pauses before continuing, âthis idea you had in your head that I would leave you for someone else.â
Zayne lifts his free hand to softly grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger â not too harshly, but not soft enough that you could escape him.
You watch all pretenses fall from his face, and something in his eyes breaks.
âWhy,â Zayne starts, his voice gravelly and raspy with disbelief now, âwould you ever think that?â
Is he serious?
âHave I done something, Y/N? To make you doubt me?â
You snap, âThink for maybe five seconds about that before you ask me again. You know I wouldnât be irrational enough to be upset with you over nothing.â
Zayneâs eyebrows furrow, the crease between them becoming more and more pronounced. âIâŚâ
Perhaps there was no use to beating around the bush. Your voice trembles as you confess, âI heard what you told Grayson in your office a couple weeks ago.â Even as Zayneâs eyes seem to widen, you push through, âI was going to drop off lunch, but then I heard him ask about Emcee, and if anything wouldâve happened between you two had she stayed all those years ago.
âAnd you said, âPerhapsâ, Zayne.â
Even in the most harrowing surgeries, his hands could remain stable. But now they shake as they move to cradle your face, and you push yourself completely off the couch. âTell me, Zayne Li. Tell me what things would be like if Emcee never took that job six years ago. Would we still be here today?â
âOf course we wouldââ
âThen why?!â you yelled, whirling on him with fresh tears tracking down your cheeks. âWhy would you say that to Grayson if it werenât true?! Obviously, thereâs some truth to it!â
âPlease, listen to meââ he begs, but you cut him off once more.
âHow can you sit there and lie to me? You wouldnât have said it if you didnât mean it, Zayne. You are rarely, if ever, unintentional in your words. So, the fact that âperhapsâ even slipped out of your mouth means something.â
âI,â he starts then pauses, his brain fighting for the right words. âI donâtâŚI donât know.â
His words trigger a sharp pain in your chest, and your cries begin to worsen. The feeling like youâre on the verge of hyperventilating draws closer and closer. âYou still love her, donât you?â
âNo!â Zayne immediately fires back. âNot in the way youâre thinking, and not in the way that I love you.â
âShe was your first love, Zayne, and it wasnât the kind of first love that anyone can easily brush off. You,â your lungs scream for air in between your words, âyou only went out with me because she left. Had she notâŚâ
Zayne shakes his head with vigor. âNo, I would still be here. With you.â
âThen whyââ
âEven if she had stayed, if anything had happened between me and her,â Zayne interjects, looking straight at you. It takes everything in him not to crack at the sight of your grief-ridden gaze. âI firmly believe that Iâd still end up here with you. I meant what I said to Grayson when I said there was no use in dwelling on the what-ifs. The words didnât come to me at the time, but I said it because I knew that no matter what, I would still be married to you.
Always encased in subtle pride and unwavering willpower, Zayne slides off the couch and plants his weight on buckled knees. He takes hold of your hands and is beyond relieved when you donât pull away. There is no way to count the number of times he has held your hands with love and reverence â but he hopes, he prays, that this is the only time he will ever need to hold them in repentance, a sinner seeking divine forgiveness.
âPlease believe me,â he implores, and youâd have to be deaf and blind to miss the desperation in his grip, tone, and eyes. âI love you, Y/N,â Zayne professes. âI told you on our wedding night that there isnât a single moment when Iâm not thinking of you, and that hasnât changed at all. Astra permit, that will never change.â
Your silence terrifies him, but at least he hasnât been greeted by an onslaught of fresh tears from you. âYou were promised the world from me, and I have failed you,â he said softly, almost drowning in self-disappointment. âIâve neglected you these past few months, and I am so, so sorry.â
Zayne canât bear to look at you and drops his head in your hands. He presses venerating kisses on your fingertips and palms as he waits for your answer.
You canât look at him either, begging on his knees like he would be nothing without you. Itâs hard to imagine that of someone as established and renowned as him, butâŚ
The sunlight that pierces through the blinds catches just right on a sliver of your diamond ring that hasnât been covered by his hands.
You take a quivering breath, another, and then another.
âIf you ever,â and Zayne lifts his head with the speed of light, âgive me reason to seriously doubt what we have ever againâŚâ
His heart pounds, and he waits with bated breath. God, is this what they feel like in all those romance movies? Â
 â...Iâm dragging you to marriage counseling, and if you refuse to cooperate with even one of those sessions, I will leave.â
A torrential wave of relief passes over, causing him to release all the tension in his bones. âThank you,â he whispers against your hands, âand I understand. You will never be taken for granted â never in this life or the next.â
And when your fingers are running through his sweaty strands, his face pressed against your stomach, his arms wrapped around you, his hands grasping firmly onto your shirt â really itâs his, but everything of his belongs to you and you only â you allow yourself to forget the insecurity that has laid dormant within you for all these years.
zayne x non-mc!fem reader -- married, but you worry it's only because mc (emcee) had left and was never sure on when she'd return. six years later, emcee moves back to linkon, and you feel your worst nightmares start to fester. self-indulgent angst (tw: miscommunication)
wc: 3.2k
In a fantasy-like dreamscape, with petals painted in hues of ivory and rouge, you amble down the concrete trail that loops around the park.
You ignore the feeling of being out of place â after all, youâre still in your work blouse, skirt, and heels that are very impractical for a long walk. But in your numbing haze and cloudy mind, youâre welcome to any ache and sore that could keep you grounded to this forsaken planet. The music from your earbuds rings with melancholic songs from some movie soundtrack, though coincidental and fitting for the situation at hand. Eyes glassed over, steps slow and laborious, and shoulders slumped, you walk defeated.
A gust of wind releases the petals from their branches and blooms, a flurry scattering into the open air before flitting, twisting, turning, and gradually falling to the ground beneath your feet. They make you remember a happier time, one that seems to be a waste after all these years. When you look towards the sky, you recall a similar view when you were snug in a wedding dress while making your way down an aisle, your lips curved in a smile as onlookers threw white rose petals into the air. But when you tilt your head down to look in front of you, there is no man in a tailored, pressed suit waiting for you.
He settled by marrying you, a faint whisper reminds you in the back of your mind. You did this to yourself.
Perhaps you did.
There was always the chance that she would come back â you had always dreaded the day, but Zayne was adamant that there was nothing to worry about. He had moved on, and he loved you. There was nothing you needed to fix about yourself, he insisted. He loved you for who you were, and you were grateful â grateful that he still thought of you late at night when stuck in emergency surgeries, that he would buy you pastries anytime he visited the bakery, that he would welcome you into his office during lunch breaks when you had time to step away from your desk.
You were happy to be on his arm at awards and annual galas. You would bask in the moments when you would come out in a new dress and he wouldnât be able to take his eyes off you. âYou look beautiful,â he would say with reverence and adoration, and it was those moments that led you astray from your worries and insecurities. He chose you, and you could tell he didnât regret choosing you.
That didnât change until after a few months she returned.
The reason she had been gone for so long was because she had been transferred indefinitely to a remote city that had a massive shortage of Hunters and way too many Wanderers to deal with. From the get go, she had been advised to officially move out of her apartment and was even given a stipend to help with relocation costs. It was for a good cause, and she had always wanted to travel and see the world. Zayne, in all his infinite charity and kindness, made sure to discuss every detail possible with her new physician that would be looking after her and her heart condition. He even went as far as having her sign a release of information to him specifically so that he could access her records remotely.
You understood. Really, you did. She had even made it out to the wedding and stayed afterward to help with cleanup efforts.
But after her return, the more you fell asleep in and woke up to an empty bed, the less sleep you were getting.
How do I bring this up without sounding like a clingy partner? You had wracked your brain for weeks. Zayne was stressed enough as it was, and you really didnât want to add to it. You had vowed to be the solid ground beneath his feet â to support and keep him stabilized â and not the storm that could topple him over.
But it was so hard.
Fewer texts, fewer check-inâs, fewer notes left behind reminding you of the little things. Fewer reminders that he was ever a tenant in this house â much less, your husband.
Zayne ran on a routine and schedule, but so much spontaneity happens in his daily life that he probably wouldnât mind a surprise visit for lunch from you. You had picked up his favorite lunch set from the cafe down the street, as well as one for you, and walked towards the hospital. Familiar nurses and doctors greeted you as you did them, quick helloâs and slight nods of the heads. Yvonne recognized you without missing a beat and flashed you a small, but tired smile.
âLong day already?â you softly asked when you stopped at her station.
âUnfortunately, but nothing uncommon,â she joked before taking a look at the brown paper bag in your hand. âGood timing actually, heâs in his office and is free for the next 30 minutes. Dr. Grayson is in there, but it shouldnât be a big deal.â
âThank you,â you said in a grateful tone and smiled before rounding the corner to your husbandâs office.
You slowed and softened your steps to minimize the noise from your heels, wanting to maintain the element of surprise. From down the hall, you could see that his door was cracked open just the slightest, both his and Dr. Graysonâs voices muffled but much clearer once you were in front of it. Just as you were about to push it open, you heard her name and froze.
â--she comes by a lot.â
You heard Zayne reply, âItâs been good catching up with her and being able to check on her condition. Her doctor from her time away shouldâve done a better job, but at least nothing major happened.â
âI havenât seen your wife in a while. More often than not, Iâd see her here on your lunch breaks, but it feels like forever.â
Keyboard clicks fill the brief silence. âSheâs been busy.â
Have you now?
âYou know,â Dr. Grayson starts before pausing. âWasnât Emcee your first love or something like that?â
The keyboard clicks stop. âWhy do you ask?â
You could hear the shrug in Dr. Graysonâs voice. âI just wonder if anything has changed now that sheâs back permanently.â
â...I donât follow.â
âDo you think anything wouldâve happened between you and her had she stayed six years ago?â
A beat passes. Two. Four.
âPerhaps, but thereâs no point in dwelling on the what-ifâs.â
Your heart sank.
In the very next second, the panic began to course through you, your heartbeat dangerously high. You had a moment of clarity â a miracle, honestly â to step out of your heels and let them hang from your fingers as you walked back to where Yvonne was at a brisk pace. Hospital floor, dust, and infections be damned. Otherwise, the clacking of your heels wouldâve alerted them, and that was the last thing you needed. All you thought of in that moment was the need to get out, away from this hospital, away from your husband.
Yvonne had no time to question your sudden return â she hadnât expected to see you again for at least another 30 minutes â before you set the bag in front of you.
âThey seem to be having a really important conversation,â you started, clenching your fists to stop the tremble in your body and trying to maintain a calm voice. âC-can I just leave this here for you to give to him later?â
âYes, of course,â Yvonne said, picking the bag up to put behind her. Her tone was agreeable, but you could practically feel her confusion between the syllables. âBut are you sure you donât want to wait? Dr. Grayson should be out in a few minutes, if thatâs the case.â
âOh, uhh, I actually just got a text from my boss,â you lied and held up your phone, though it was still a dark screen. âHe needs a document at the last minute, so I have to head back anyways. Thank you though!â
With a quick wave goodbye, you left Yvonne no chance to respond and disappeared towards the elevator. Every second that passed was too long, and you almost tripped while trying to slip your heels back on. Your steps were shaky, your frame shuttering with each step, and you couldnât help but feel embarrassed. You should be stronger than this. You should be strong enough to hold yourself together and make it home before you absolutely break and burst at the seams.
Your hands wrung together as the elevator descended towards the ground floor at a snailâs pace. Luckily you were the only one in the compartment, so as soon as the doors had opened, you bolted out of there like someone was chasing you. And in a way, something was chasing you â one of your worst nightmares: the realization that Zayne felt he had no choice but to settle for you.
You crossed the lobby as fast as you could, blinders on and narrowed to nothing but the main doors. They couldnât slide open fast enough for you, but it granted you a second to call your boss.
âYes, (Y/N)?â
âI know this is really sudden, and you know I never do this, but I really, really need to take the afternoon off,â you begged, words rolling off your tongue a mile a minute.
âIs everything okay?â
âNot really,â you said with all the bluntness in the universe before you could say anything better. âBut itâll be fine, Iâll be back tomorrow morning.â
âVery well. Call me if you need help with anything.â
âThank you so much. I canât tell you how much I appreciate this.â
âIâll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.â
âSee you tomorrow, and you, too.â
Your thumb jabbed the âend callâ button as you stared at the street. Where should you go? What should you do? Do you go home?
And thatâs how you ended up here, at the park, the skin on the back of your heels chafed horribly, and your brain at a complete loss of what to do now. You havenât even cried yet because you were still in a state of shock, disassociation.
Aimless, unaware, and lost, you continue your endless journey and are unable to find it in yourself to even sit on one of the many park benches stationed around the path. Because if you sat, you would cry. And if you cry, you would think. And if you think, you would spiral. You would spiral down the black hole of questioning every single thing Zayne has ever done with you, if Zayne ever truly loved you.
Something in the universe says youâre not ready for that yet.
Your phone vibrates from your purse. You take it out with limp hands, slowly and unsure in every way possible, your heart pounding against your chest, as you read the notification on your lock screen.
Husband đ:
Thank you for lunch. Iâm sorry we couldnât eat together.
Your feet scream in agony as you increase your pace in the direction of the main road. They were probably bleeding at this point, but that was an issue for another time. You flag down a taxi as soon as one appears, and you ask the driver to take you to that 24 hour bookstore-slash-library with the comfy chairs and a cafe attached to it. After all, if you couldnât stand to be in this world, at least you could escape to another for a little bit of time.
Husband đ:
Yvonne said you had some type of work emergency. Is everything okay?
-
Several hours passed, in which you were able to acquire a couple of bandaids and alcohol wiping pads, nibble on a biscotti, and dive into a book that you had been putting off for months. Unwillingly, you hear your phone vibrate in your purse. Based on the pattern alone, you know itâs Zayne calling. During your years of dating, you had assigned custom vibrations and ringtones for him and him only. That way, no matter what, you would know it was him calling without having to look at the screen. If this were a normal situation and a normal day, you wouldâve picked up without missing a beat. Unfortunately, today has been anything but normal.
You press one of the volume buttons to stop it from vibrating, though his contact information is still splashed across the screen. Your infinite wisdom advises you to let the call run, make him think that you were simply too busy to pick up. Again, an ultra rare occurrence, but not impossible. Your phone screen switches back to your lock screen with a notification of a missed call, and you watch it with wary eyes to see if there would be any follow-up.
There is one in the form of a text.
Bzz-bzz. Make that two.
Husband đ:
I called to see if you wanted to have dinner together. But as soon as it went to voicemail, we had an emergency surgery come up.
Are you evil to think that the universe has kindly granted you more time to not talk to your husband? It would be appalling to be thankful that someone was hurt enough to warrant an emergency surgery that required your husbandâs skills, therefore buying you more time to get your shit together. Diabolical and heartless, someone would probably describe you.
Husband đ:
Wonât be home til late. Donât wait up.
But you could only be in a blouse and skirt for so long, and as much as you want to spend the night here, itâs time for you to go home.
At 11PM, there is still no other text or call from Zayne. The house is empty and quiet, much to your relief. His shoes are nowhere to be seen on the shoe rack, so you must be safe. You should have enough time to change, brush your teeth, go to bed, and either actually fall asleep or pretend to be asleep when he eventually makes it home. His messages have been left unread, his call not returned. Once youâre ready for bed and tucked under the covers, the exhaustion of everything pulls you into a deep sleep in record time.
-
Youâre practically dead to the world when Zayne comes home, slinking in like a thief in the night. He knows youâre usually asleep at this time, and he doesnât want to wake you. Perhaps itâs his imagination, but in the few minutes that he can see you, you seem more tired, more haggard. It seems like youâve lost a little weight, too, but he just doesnât have the time to ask more about it. All the things that were changing seemed like itâd be best to have a sitdown conversation on a day off, but heâs been so bogged down by work and the return of Emcee that a day off seemed impossible.
As he slips his shoes off, he glances at your heels positioned astray from the shoe rack. The work emergency must have been bad for you to leave them that way. It takes nothing to bring them together and put them away himself, but then his eyes catch onto something that makes him freeze.
Why in the world is there that much blood on the back of your heels?
Were you hurt?
What happened that made you walk around so much to the point that you would let yourself bleed without any attempt to cover them up, or at least put a bandaid over them?
Why would you neglect yourself like that?
Had you already been bleeding when you dropped off his lunch? And if you had, why hadnât anyone noticed, much less done anything about it?
The bedroom door creaks the slightest bit when he pushes it open, the force behind his fingertips so soft, so afraid to wake you. His eyes cannot help but travel to the foot of the bed where one of your feet sticks out. A small sense of relief fills his chest when he spots the bandaid stuck to the back of your left heel. The closer he gets to you, the more he sees that the bandaid wasnât applied carefully enough based on the gap between the cotton pad and your wound. Gently, he lifts the blanket up to get a look at your other foot. A matching bandaid is present on your right heel. But at second glance, any relief he had felt disappears into thin air.
He sees the faint indentations of where the leather of your high heels had dug into your skin, a subtle arch decorating the space at the base of your toes. The beginnings of blisters have formed on the side of a few of them as well. Itâs no secret to anyone how worn out they seem, that theyâve seen a harder day than usual today. He doesnât know the cause, and he doesnât understand why you didnât even tell him. Zayne fishes his phone out of his pocket and stares at the empty lock screen, showing that you had never responded to his earlier messages. That, in and of itself, was already highly unusual.
He shifts the blanket back over your feet, making sure to cover them both before retreating into their bathroom. Brushing his teeth, rinsing his hair under the sink faucet, and washing his face all feel so mechanical as his mind refuses to turn off, the growing worry spreading like spilled cabernet on a white tablecloth. As he slides into bed, he suddenly feels like a stranger in his own home â like heâs not supposed to be here, to consider this bed as his safe space.
Heâll ask you in the morning, Zayne decides as he falls into a fitful sleep. No surgeries had been scheduled for the morning, which meant he could finally wake up with you for the first time in months. You two would get ready together â youâd tie his tie, heâd help dry the ends of your wet hair fresh out of the shower, youâd pack his lunch, heâd make sure that you leave with a fresh coffee in hand â a routine he has learned to love. The thought of that helps him settle into the sheets, and they feel soft and familiar again. Yes, everything would be fine.
But Zayyne gets a call an hour before your alarm goes off, and is, once again, robbed of one of his most cherished routines. He canât help but look at your heels again as he slips into his dress shoes. They must be a sign of something to come, something that he may need to be afraid of. Heâs not ready for what that may be, but inside, he knows that thereâs a countdown.
Zayne doesnât want to think about the stakes, or the fact that his first prediction â fresh horror and torture â is you leaving him. He cannot let it happen.
ｼ* .･.:*ｼ lil life updates ｼ:･. .â ,･@[#kajislittlelife<3]
･âｼｼ messages from u my dearest ｼ:,･@[#kissesforkaji - messages] ~~~ my inbox is always opennn so pls give choso a headpat if u have smthn on ur heart ~
You melt into the night with Caleb and Zayne, where touches speak louder than words, and time slips away in the heat of a moment well spent.
18+ mdni! threesome. zayne and caleb make out with you at the same time, challengers style. fingering. blowjob. ass slapping. finger sucking. consent check in. reader is a creamer. bisexual calezayne.
give it a listen while reading!
âWe always shared everything when we were kids,â Caleb murmurs, his arms braced against the doorframe, caging you between him and your other childhood friend. His voice is low, indulgent, laced with memory and a slow-burning heat. âRight, Zayne?â
The one with glasses gives a languid nod, a wry smile curving his lips. âSure⌠though Iâd say you always took the bigger share.â
Calebâs chuckle is quiet, huskyâa sound that slides beneath your skin, however, his eyes hold something darker now, something undone by time. Something starved. Something waiting.
âI was always a little selfish,â he admits, voice slipping into a low mumble as his gaze drifts to you. His eyes; dark brown, cold and consuming, pinning you in place. His breath is slow, deliberate, brushing the air between you like a whisper.
Zayne removes his glasses with quiet precision, slipping them into the pocket of his coat. His free hand lifts with unnerving gentleness, fingers grazing through your hair, tracing it like a line of poetry heâs read too many times.
Your breath catches. A flutter stirs deep in your belly, rising like smoke toward your chest, your skin tingling under the weight of their nearness. Zayneâs hand slides to the small of your back, palm warm, claiming.
âDonât scare her now,â he murmurs, a grin ghosting his lips as he pulls you to him, so suddenly your palm lands against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat pulses beneath your touch. âPlay fair, Caleb.â
His tone is light, teasing, but his expression remains unreadable, a mask of intrigue and desire. He could be thinking anything.
Caleb steps closer, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling your hips close to the bulging in his trousers. His breath warms the curve of your neck.
âNo, noâsheâs staying.â Just his voice unravels you, sending a tremble through your chest, your heartbeat loud in your ears as your breaths come deep and slow.
âYa not going anywhere, are âya?â his words hum against your skin, and the sound settles into your bones. You lean into Zayneâs chest, eyes drifting back to Caleb, caught between them.
You take a breath, trying to process the moment. Youâre sandwiched between your two childhood best friends. Itâs way past midnight, and somehow, somewhere along the way while the three of you were separated, theyâve both become devastatingly hot.
Youâre caught in a trance, lips parted, heart stumbling over its own symphony.
âNo.â
That one word hangs heavy in the air, but not in resistance. Their expressions shift, darkening with desire, eyes burning with unspoken sustenance for the girl caught between them.
Caleb moves first. His slender fingers find your chin, tilting your face toward his, the world narrowing to the breath between your lips.
Zayne doesnât move. He watches; his gaze heavy, possessive, patient.
Caleb's tongue, wet and desperate, slides between your lips. You await his entrance, slick muscles tango in mouths. His hand falls to the warm flush between your lower body, fingers hooking under your clothed cunt.
You push your ass against his body, your hips in a rhythm your lips cannot sing. Denim on fabric in secret harmony. Caleb's breath trembled into a moan into you, caught in consumption.
Zayne couldnât bear to wait any longer, like a predator circling its prey, famine in his breath. The sight of you under Caleb's control ignited a fire within him, something that rushed through his veins and burned with desire. His fingers tangle in your hair, firm yet reverent, guiding you closer. Tilting his head, he brushes his lips against the edge of your jaw, each kiss deliberate, a promise drawn in heat.
Zayneâs lips; sweet with intention, but laced with dominance brush against yours, and a shiver rips down your spine. His hand finds your face, strong and unyielding, fingers cradling your jaw with a possessive grace.
In a single, silent claim, he tears you from Calebâs orbit without so much as a glance back, like the decision was already made, and you were already his.
Then he kisses you. Not gently, not hesitantly; but with eagerness. Your taste drags a low, feral sound from his chest, a growl that rumbles against your lips as he deepens the kiss.
Heâs not just kissing you, heâs consuming you, breathing you in like you're the only air he's ever needed.
Calebâs eyes, glassy, low, dream-dazed, fixate on the sight of you tangled in Zayneâs grasp. He doesnât blink, doesnât move an inch, just watches as Zayne devours your mouth like he owns it, like heâs branding you in real time.
Without tearing his gaze away, Calebâs foot reaches back, kicking the door shut with a quiet thud. The click of the lock follows, deliberate and final. His breathing deepens, rough at the edges, chest rising with each inhale as if the sight of you being taken brings something molten beneath his skin.
Caleb finds himself at the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into skin, making you feel intense rapture in both of their embrace. Your moans bubble into Zayne's mouth, and he groans in return.
"Good girl," Caleb breathes, his lips brushing your earlobe, warm breath spilling over your flesh. Heat blooms across your cheeks, glowing amber-bright, and your knees soften beneath the weight of his voice alone.
Zayneâs tongue, unapologetically, emitting spit into your mouth, saliva thick in viscosity. You find yourself crumpling the wool material of his coat inside your fists. Zayne guides you to the living room without once breaking the kiss, your lips far too intoxicating to part from.
Every step is laced with urgency, with need. Behind you, Caleb leans against the wall, watching in silence, his eyes like smoldering embers. His grin has turned wicked; something overly primal.
For a moment, Zayne pulls back just enough to look at youâreally look at you. A delicate strand of saliva still connects your parted lips, glistening in the moonlight that spills softly through the windows. It catches in his eyes, just enough to reveal the faintest shade of green, and the shadows beneath them, faint bruises of exhaustion that only make him look more devastatingly handsome. Too many late nights at the hospital, no doubt.
Footsteps echo down the hallway; measured, deliberate. Caleb enters, silent and sure, moving behind you to press slow kisses to the curve of your shoulder. His fingers find your sleeve, coaxing it down your arm with practiced care.
âIs this okay?â Zayne asks, his gaze locked on yours, voice low, yet reassuring as you let yourself melt back into Calebâs waiting chest. He catches you easily, one arm around your waist, the other hand threading into your hair, breathing you in like a drug.
âNeed you bothâŚâ you murmur, just a breath, barely audible, but itâs enough.
More than enough. They hear it like a vow.
The three of you sink into the couch, the velvet cushions embracing you with a quiet kind of luxury. The softness beneath you draws a breath from your lips, a momentary lull, a calm before the storm.
You lean back, letting the plush give beneath you, and reach out with both hands, fingers curling around the backs of their necks. Thereâs a craving in the gesture, a need too deep for words. You draw them in, Zayne to your left, Caleb to your right, and they come willingly, caught in your gravity.
Your lips meet in the middle, a shared heat blooming between the three of you. The kiss is slow, decadent, a tangle of mouths and breath, where time seems to pause and the world stops its spinning. Hands slide, curious, devoted as the air thickens with want.
Three mouths crash together in a single, breathless kiss; chaotic, fevered, full of demand. Their hands move over you like you're something they've both been starving for. Zayne's calloused fingers find your neck, tracing your skin with a rough tenderness, thumb brushing the hollow of your throat like he wants to feel every stutter of your heartbeat. Caleb's hands are lower, gripping your hips hard, trying to keep you pressed tight against him, as if he needs your body molded to his just to stay grounded.
They're not gentle, they're hungry. And you? You let them take what they can get.
Caleb finds his fingers playing with the metal teeth of your jeans, he opens it just enough to show the lacey garment of your panties. He slid a hand inside, just above the fabric and your sweet nectar was already leaking through, warmâwet. Caleb teased at your opening just above the thin cloth, fingers barely touching your desperate skin.
You begin to buck your hips, meeting his palm with friction, while Zayne was busy wandering over your tits, cupping them with his large hands. You arch your back, the sensation is overwhelming, blinding in its intensity, unlike anything you've ever felt.
You're caught between them, entirely at their mercy, every touch setting your nerves alight. In their hands, youâre not just wanted, youâre claimed, handled like something precious and wicked all at once. A plaything, yes, but one they revere.
Caleb pulls away from the kiss the three of you melted into, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His fingers drift across your forehead like smoke, slow and lingering, before tucking a silken strand of your hair behind your ear
âNeed ya on your knees, sweetie.â He speaks, and all you can do is nod, the weight of his voice leaving no room for hesitation.
Your knees sink into the plush cushion of the couch, spine arching slightly as you look up at Zayne, silent, watchful, waiting for Caleb to make the first move. Calebâs fingers graze your waist as he works your pants down with deliberate slowness, each inch a silent claim. Beside you, Zayne slides his coat from his shoulders, letting it fall without a word, the soft thud of fabric on the floor is a quiet promise of whatâs to come.
âYouâre gonna suck Zayne off while I have my way with âya, mâkay?â Calebâs lips graze your temple in a lingering kiss, soft as a whisper, while the chilly air in the room dances across your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. His hands are the only warmth you know, trailing over your bare flesh with a touch as he shifts behind you, slow and sure.
Your hands grip at Zayneâs waistband, fingers lingering the thick fabric that trace the length of his thighs. You pull them down, linen sliding off below his knees. Zayne swallows hard, a flush of crimson blooming across his cheeks as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. You lean into his touch, nuzzling softly into his palm, your eyes shimmering with longing as you gaze up at him.
âOkay.â You mumble against Zayneâs skin, the tip of his cock grazing your chin. You take the shaft in your hand, tugging on it, leaving a quiet harbor underneath his skin. Moans rise from the top of his diaphragm, breath shaky and desperateâhe takes a handful of your hair in his grip.
Calebâs lips caress at the nape of your neck, soft yet intoxicating. His hands reaches around your waist, body pressed against yours as he leans towards your ear. Calebâs eyes fix on the figure that is Zayne, yet his voice is sharp and direct, each word meant for you aloneâweighted, deliberate, impossible to ignore. âJust like that, baby.â
Calebâs practically salivating, tongue licking the bottom of his lips before his palm lands on your gentle slope of skin, the sharp sting on your ass sending you wincing, teeth clenched.
âYouâre doing so good already.â Zayne hushes you softly, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw as he presses a tender kiss to the crown of your headâwarm, grounding, wordless in its affection.
âIsnât she?â Caleb agrees, Caleb's lips follow a slow, trail down your clothed back, each kiss against the fabric. You falter, melting into the moment, arms folding softly over the cushion as your body leans into his warmth.
âBe gentle with her,â Zayneâs eyebrows furrow, cheeks still glowing as he tries to comfort you. âYouâre too roughââ
âYouâre just jealous.â Caleb cuts him off, snapping right back. âI think you need me to be rough with you tooâŚâ His voice deep, and rebellion sparks in his eyesâlow, petrifying.
Zachâs eyes widened, nearly caught off guard. Making out with both of you at once was one thingâbut did Caleb just say that? And even more surprising, did he actually seem to enjoy hearing it?
He turns his head away from Calebâs hypnotizing gaze, about to say something, only to be interrupted by your lips around the throbbing head of his cock.
âShitâŚâ He looks down, watching as you enjoy yourself on his length. Your eyes closedâmouth watery, his shaft glides smoothly on your tongue.
Caleb on the other hand, presses his lips on your precious mound, his thumb sliding down your wet slick, making you moan around Zayne.
Before you know it, two slender fingers slide into your cunt, and you find your body rushed with pleasure. You want to speak with the ecstacy that flows through you, but your throat is full of Zayneâs cock, your words muffle.
Calebâs fingers soak in white cream, thickening with each thrust. His lips part at the sight, huffing in palpable thirst. His hand slides from your ass and around your waist, reaching for the bud that has been begging to be touched. His thumb circles on your clit, fingers deepening inside you and gliding past that sweet spot that sends you in perfect abliss.
Every sensation from Caleb sends electricity through you, your eyes rolling back and your hips buck in harmony with his fingersâand each groan that arises from you meets Zayne with intense want curling in his core.
Zayne thrusts himself in your mouth, hitting the surface of your throat. Each moan that escapes his lips utterly consumes you, your pussy gushing in its wetness, your walls clenching around Calebâs fingers.
Zayne grasps your face in his hands, his hold so strong it softens your jaw into submission. He positions himself firmly, slamming his hips into your mouth. You drool around his cock, saliva running down the floor like droplets.
Caleb gazes at Zayne taking control, the sight sending his cock in a throbbing mess underneath his trousers, begging for escape. He slides his fingers out, hand reaching out for the man before him.
âTaste.â Caleb commands, the length of his fingers covered in your juiceâbrushing along Zayneâs parted lips, mouth ajar and inviting.
Zayne follows, eyes dark with want, his tongue slipping out to chase the taste of you on Caleb's fingers. He pauses, gaze locked with Caleb's, a flicker of hesitation sparking between them, then he leans in, lips parting wider. He takes Caleb's fingers into his mouth, slow and deep, sucking them clean as he consumes you. .
Zayne pulls back, eyes glazed with raw need, breath shallow with desperation. Caleb doesnât hesitateâhe grabs him, pulling him into a kiss that crashes between them, all heat and hunger and something dangerously close to giving in, tasting your sweet cream in their kiss, melting in both of their tongues.
Calebâs attention falls back on you, thumb still running in circles around your clit, his pace quickening. Itâs a sensation you canât describe, the pit in your stomach deepening into the unknown. Zayneâs cock begins to throb, your cheeks hollowing around him as you pull it out in a pop.
âFuckâCaleb!â You cry out, your breath catching as your head presses into the cushions, hips arching instinctively as Calebâs hand claims you with slow, aching enticement. His thumb fastens, pressing hard as he coos at you.
âJust like that, babyâŚâ Zayneâs cock twitches in pleasure, your hand tightening around his shaft as you keep your momentum. He was near to his release, a wave of contractions rippled inside his stomach.
Beads of sweat fall at the side of your temples, youâre practically fucking yourself on Calebâs hand, and the sight of Zayne reaching for his high has gotten you into an aroused mess.
âDonât hold it in, angels.â Caleb lets out a tender coo, a slow smile blooming on his lips as he watches you and Zayne, completely undone in pleasure. A wave hits through your body, the sensation buzzing through your head.
You scream out, your hand gripping on Zayneâs cock, stroking it until his thighs quiver, a final shiver of delight lingering through him before he finally releases, his load leaking all around your hand. A deep groan bubbles from his throat, and the sight of him has Caleb ravening for more.
The man behind you takes his fingers in his mouth, tasting your high on his tongue. His grin appears once more, the sight of you and Zayne leaving him carnivorous.
âMy turn.â
author's note: HAPPY PRIDE TO BISEXUAL CALEZAYNE!!! also i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did :3 i need them both tremendously bad.
also!!! challengers... zendaya... you will always be famous
đ˘đđđđ/đ˛đśđđđžđđ Ëâ⎠Fluff, smut (not a lot), this would be me yall, ovulating rn fr, who wants this but roles reversed
> ࣪đ¤.á You simply canât keep your hand to yourself
Not because he didnât want to, but because every time he even tried to so much as touch a brush, a certain beautiful menace was dragging him right back into the bedroom by the collar like a starved kitten with her favorite toy.
His poor shirt was buttoned wrong. His once pristine neck was painted in lipstick marks and bitten raw with hickeys shaped like little hearts. His mouth was kiss-swollen, glossy, and parted slightly as he leaned dizzily against the hallway wall, blinking at you like a drunk man seeing God.
âYouâre so sexy,â you purr as you press against him, tracing the line of his jaw with your glossed-up finger. âI canât help it, Raffy. You just exist and I go stupid.â
âIâm the one whoâs gone stupid,â he breathes, voice breaking with a soft giggle as your kisses trail down his throat. âPretty⌠crazy⌠wife, stealing my soul every hour on the hour like itâs your little job or somethingâŚâ
And oh, you did treat it like a job. Like a full-time, salaried position with benefits and paid leave youâd never take. Youâd strut around the estate in your little silk robe and thigh-high socks, looking every bit like a forbidden painting, before grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him off again with a wicked grin.
âYouâre literally glowing,â you coo, nose brushing against his cheek as you admire your latest work, him. âLook at you. Covered in my kisses. Iâm so proud. Youâre such a good boy~â
âNnghââ Rafâs knees buckle.
He slumps into your arms, completely pliant, like youâve melted every one of his bones with love. His purple lashes flutter, and a dreamy pink tinge sits high on his cheeks.
âMy beautiful wife thinks Iâm sexyâŚâ he whispers like heâs about to start sobbing. âIâm never recovering from thisâŚâ
You tug him close, letting him sink into your arms as you back into the bedroom again, for the fifth time this afternoon.
âShhh, you donât need to recover, raffy,â you whisper against his mouth. âYou just need to lie back and let me show you how much I love your stupidly perfect body.â
The door clicks shut.
His palette stays untouched. His shirt stays halfway unbuttoned. And the only brush that sees use tonight⌠is the one tangled in your hair as he whines your name against the sheets, dizzy on your love.
Not in the way most people would ever see. Oh no, publicly, he was still Dr Zayne: the cold, composed, genius heart surgeon. Not a strand of black hair out of place, not a single button undone. Calm. Elegant. Untouchable.
But privately?
Privately he was currently standing in the master bedroom with his tie yanked loose, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and covered in so many lipstick kisses it looked like youâd stamped him into a love letter.
He leaned one hand on the doorframe for balance, panting softly, collar tugged and wrinkled from where youâd dragged him inside yet again.
ââŚSweetheart.â His voice was hoarse. âI have patients to check in on.â
âNope,â you hummed, already circling him like a little spoiled lioness in silk and perfume. âYouâre my patient now. And youâre staying in bed until I say youâre discharged.â
Zayne blinked slowly, like his brain was still buffering from your kisses. His tie slipped from his neck entirely. His hands were on your waist before he could even think.
âYouâre addicted,â he murmured, but his voice was low and warm, full of amusement and just the slightest tremble of surrender.
âYouâre the one who walks around this house in tight black shirts like a walking wet dream,â you purred, fingers tracing down his abs like he was sculpted marble. âI told you I married you for your body, doctor.â
ââŚYou married me because I own five estates, pay your credit cards off before you even check them, and give you four-hour back massages when you throw tantrums.â
âAnd also because your V-line is actually life-ruining,â you whisper against his skin before planting yet another lipstick-stained kiss just above his waistband.
Zayne groaned softly. His eyes fluttered half-lidded as he let you press him back against the bed, his gorgeous, sharp-featured face already dazed. There were kiss marks on his hips now. On his collarbone. On the inside of his wrist where you bit down gently just to hear him exhale.
âYouâreâŚunbelievable,â he muttered, voice cracking faintly as you straddled him.
âMmhm.â You smiled sweetly. âBut you love it.â
ââŚUnfortunately.â
He was so gone for you. Even as his toned arms lay limp against the pillows, even as his body was flushed and marked and glowing under the soft bedroom light, he still looked at you like he couldnât believe he got to keep you.
And when you leaned down and whispered, âGonna ride my sexy husband like itâs a sport,â Zayne swore under his breath, caught your hips, and dragged you down hard, like he wasnât the one who needed a break from you.
He was shirtless, breathless, and leaning against the plush velvet headboard like heâd just been gently murdered, his silver hair mussed beyond repair and his elegant neck covered in pink-gloss lip prints and fluttery love bites. The silk sheets were halfway down his waist, revealing the faintest trace of toned abs and flushed skin from yet another⌠session.
He blinked slowly as you crawled up his body again like a smug little kitten, still glowing, still in that ridiculous frilly negligee heâd bought you just to see you ruin it.
âStarlightâŚâ His voice was low, dazed. âYou pulled me in here⌠five times today.â
âBecause youâre the prettiest thing in this entire penthouse,â you coo, kissing under his jaw. âAnd because Iâm addicted to my beautiful husband. Do you want me to stop?â
His arms immediately wrap around your waist, possessive and needy even in his exhaustion.
ââŚNo.â
You giggle and start kissing a new trail across his collarbone, admiring your work. His skin is pale and smooth, your lipstick imprinted all over him like youâd stamped him as your personal property.
He watches you with half-lidded, adoring blue eyes, high on your touch and murmuring things like:
âYouâre insaneâŚâ
âYou keep marking me like a wolf in heatâŚâ
ââŚI love it.â
His long fingers trail up your thigh lazily, a soft smirk playing on his lips despite how flushed and breathless he is.
âYou think Iâm sexy?â he whispers, a little teasing, a little desperate.
You pause, eyes widening slightly like he just said the dumbest thing youâve ever heard. You grab his face with both hands.
âXavier,â you say, deadly serious. âI think youâre the sexiest man alive. I think youâre so hot it should be criminal. I think you were genetically engineered to ruin me.â
ââŚOkay.â He swallows. âIâm going to cry now.â
He actually does look like he might, his ears go a little pink and he hides his face in your neck, letting out a muffled groan as you stroke his silver hair and hum softly.
Youâre not sure how long you lay there cuddling, but the second you so much as shift your hips,
He flips you under him.
ââŚOne more,â he murmurs, lips brushing yours. âFor science. For your addiction.â
And just like that, your sexy, sleepy, otherworldly husband is back in action, completely high on your love, his toned body shivering under your touch, whispering against your lips like a prayer:
âKeep calling me sexy. Iâll never get tired of itâŚâ
đđŽđĄđŞđ¨ ⎠â Ë･đ ¨â･°âŠ
Sylus looked like heâd just walked off the cover of a scandalous magazine, shirt half open, silver hair tousled to hell, red eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, his pale skin littered in deep wine-colored love bites and obscene lipstick prints that trailed all the way from his collarbones down past his abs.
He sat back on the edge of the bed with a lazy smirk and a hand in his hair, exhaling a breathy little laugh like he couldnât believe what just happened.
Again.
You were already crawling into his lap again.
âKitty,â he murmured, amused. âIâve got six missed calls. Three international meetings. A contract waiting to be signed. And here you are⌠pulling me back into bed for the fourth time in a row.â
âYou look too good to ignore,â you say sweetly, arms looped around his neck. âYour body makes me feral, Sylus. You want me to just not jump you every hour? Thatâs unrealistic. Be serious.â
His eyes crinkle faintly with laughter, head tilting slightly as he studies you with that sharp, slow-burning gaze of his.
âYouâre obsessed.â
You hum, nuzzling into his chest. âYou made me like this. With your stupid abs. And that sexy little vein on your forearm. And your voice. And the way you look at me when youâre about to ruin my life.â
âIs that so?â His voice dips low, velvety and smug. âBecause Iâm the one covered in gloss and claw marks, kitten.â
He glances down at the state of himself, shirt wrinkled, belt unbuckled, skin decorated in possessive little reminders of your obsession, and lets out a pleased sound, like your addiction entertains him.
âYouâve been dragging me by the tie into the bedroom like a starving wife with a rich, sexy trophy husband,â he muses. âYou want me that badly, huh?â
You climb into his lap fully, pressing a line of kisses up his throat.
âI want you all the time,â you whisper. âI want you spoiled, smug, and shirtless. I want you dizzy and wrecked and begging me not to kiss you again, and then still moaning when I do.â
He stares at you for a beat. Then lets out the lowest, filthiest chuckle.
âGod, I love you.â
You grin as he pulls you down again, flat against the mattress, his hands already slipping under your silk slip.
And as he kisses you, slow, possessive, devastating, you feel him murmur against your lips with that teasing, breathy tone of his:
âNext time you drag me in here like that, at least let me close the damn door.â
His dark brown hair was tousled from where youâd been tugging at it, his uniform shirt was halfway off, gold buttons undone and hanging off one shoulder, and his neck and chest were littered in bright pink lipstick kisses and faint purple bite marks. The top of his black undershirt was soaked in your gloss from where youâd kissed him through the fabric just to be dramatic.
He leaned heavily against the wall outside the bedroom, blinking like heâd just emerged from an oxygen-deprived fever dream.
You peeked your head around the corner, grinning sweetly.
âThere you are!â you chimed, grabbing him by the collar. âRound five.â
Caleb flinched. Physically flinched. The collar of his once-pristine Fleet uniform was already stretched from being yanked on all day.
âBaby,â he said, voice hoarse and barely holding it together. âI canât feel my legs. I, my whole bodyâs shaking. Youâve been dragging me back into the bedroom every hour like youâre on a mission.â
You beamed up at him with glossy lips and a wink. âThatâs because I am. Operation: Ruin My Sexy Caleb.â
ââŚYou need supervision,â he muttered, cheeks slightly flushed, glancing down at the mess you made of him.
âMm-mm.â You tugged him close, palms flat against his bare chest. âWhat I need is your stupid hot body inside me again. Youâre so big and strong and mean-looking but you fall apart the second I kiss your tummy, and itâs just so cute, I canât stop.â
His entire body locked up.
ââŚStop saying things like that with a straight face, Pips.â
You tilted your head innocently. âBut itâs true. Youâre my beautiful husband and Iâm addicted to you. Look at you. All marked up and dizzy and mine.â
He tried to be grumpy, he really did. But the moment your fingers traced down his abs, his knees gave just slightly and he cursed under his breath.
âI was in a meeting,â he muttered. âNow Iâm in your mouth.â
âYouâre welcome.â
You grabbed him by the waistband, giggling like a spoiled brat dragging her favorite toy back to her castle. Caleb just sighed and followed, completely under your spell, his rough soldier hands already sliding around your waist.
âYâknow,â he murmured as you pushed him down onto the bed again, âwhen we first moved into this penthouse, I thought I was locking you up.â
You straddled him, planting another kiss on his cheek with a dramatic mwah and a fresh lipstick print.
âOopsie. Looks like Iâm the one keeping you in bed now, Colonel.â
ââŚYeah.â His voice cracked softly. âAnd I love it.â
And with that, your big, scary Colonel husband, blushing and covered in kiss marks, let out a groan of surrender and let you ruin him all over again.
This is a PT 2 of sorts from this lovense fic âŞď¸ 18á mdni, duh!!! âĄ~ from this request!
Caleb is mad with need. He says he's cleaning for you, but everything about being inside your home without your presence drives him crazy. He can't stop thinking about whether it not he could feel what you felt. So he tries your vibrator, just this once, just to understand.
â 1,761 words â
tags: caleb x reader, caleb solo, male masturbation, vibrator use, lovense lush 2, mutual pining, emotional smut, caught in the act, overstimulation, toy play, soft dom, sub!caleb, longing, desperate arousal, domestic intimacy, voyeuristic undertones, affectionate filth, reader walks in, mention of bodily fluids, post-orgasm intimacy, praise kink, slight powerplay, petnames, caleb whimpers, aftercare tease
Caleb lets himself in with the key you gave him, quiet as a shadow slipping through the door.
He means well, really. He just wanted to surprise you⌠thought maybe heâd tidy up, start dinner, be waiting with a crooked little smile when you got home from work. The place smells like you, and that alone nearly knocks him over. He misses you so much.
That faint hint of laundry soap and your sweet apple lotion, the one you pretend you donât use every day, but he knows better. The way it clings to your sheets, your shirts, the hoodie he stole back from you and still hasnât returned.
He sets his bag down by the door and rolls up his sleeves.
Just a little cleaning. Something useful.
But when he walks past the bed, he sees it.
Soft cotton, pale and delicate, crumpled right at the edge of the mattress like it was tugged off in a hurry. Your panties.
He stares. Stops breathing for a second.
Not folded, not tucked, not hidden. Just there.
He should leave them alone. He really, really should. But his hand moves before his shame can stop it. He picks them up like they might burn him, holding them gently between two fingers before bringing them to his face. They smell like you.
God.
His knees go weak. He sits on the edge of the bed, your panties in his lap, and his body remembers:
The way you trembled with the toy inside you.
How wet you were, how flushed.
The desperate little way youâd clung to him, face buried in his shoulder, while the hum of that vibrator poured through your cunt and straight into his cock.
Heâs hard. Already. And his stomach twists.
No. No, câmon, stopâ
He forces himself up. Puts the panties down, moves to the kitchen⌠runs water, tries to wash a dish.
But his hands shake. His jeans are tight. His mind wonât stop replaying itâhow open you were, how wrecked. How you moaned when he turned the dial up. How your pussy squeezed that thing like it belonged more than his cock did.
How it vibrated through youâonto him.
He palms himself through his jeans with a low hiss, then rips his hand away like heâs been burned.
Get a grip, man. Jesus.
But he canât. Not when he knows exactly where you keep it. Not when his bodyâs still aching like it hasnât been touched in years.
And maybe thatâs how he ends up back in your room.
The drawer slides open with a soft slide.
Itâs still there. It sits, neat and pink and innocent as sin, fully charged too.
He stares at it for a long time.
Then he picks it up.
Itâs warm in his handâeither from charging or from memory, he canât tell. Smooth. Familiar now, even if it still feels like contraband. Like a secret he shouldnât be allowed to touch again.
But he does. Of course he does.
Just to⌠feel it. Just to remember.
He sits again, back on the bed, thumb brushing over the control button. The vibrator gives a faint buzz, almost shy.
His breath catches. Itâs immediate.
Itâs not even on properly yet, just a pulse of readiness, and already his cock twitches where itâs straining against his jeans.
Fuck.
He closes his eyes.
He remembers how you sounded. That first gasp when it slid in. The way your thighs trembled. The way you clutched him. Like he was your anchor. Like he could take it for you if he tried hard enough.
He wants to understand.
He wants to feel it.
He slides back on the bed, kicks his jeans down just enough, and hesitates. Eyes flicker down. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking at the tip. Just from this.
Just from you.
He shifts, reclines a little further, presses the toy downânot inside, not really. He doesnât dare. But under. Between his thighs, snug against the heat of his skin and the curve beneath his balls.
He squeezes his legs together gently.
It purrs.
He jerksâgaspsâand nearly drops it. The hum is so much more intense than he expected, and his whole body shudders.
âOhâfuckââ
He clamps a hand over his mouth, heart hammering.
Thatâs what you felt?
He presses it again, a little more firmly, thighs squeezing, the soft fabric of his boxers damp and stretched and barely containing the thick pulse of his arousal.
It buzzes against that sensitive patch just behind his cock, and a full-body shiver takes him. He throws his head back against your pillows, thighs trembling.
He moans, high pitched and pathetic.
God, no wonder you cried out like that. No wonder you couldnât hold still. No wonder you clung to him like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.
It hurts. It pleases. It makes him ache. His hand drifts down, wraps around himselfâand even that feels like too much.
His hips jerk. The toy shifts. He grits his teeth.
Another soft little whine.
Heâs not even moving it.
Heâs already so fucking close.
âShit, shitââ
His other hand fumbles for the control. He tries a different settingâsomething softer, maybe. But itâs worse. The toy pulses now, in waves, with a slow, devastating rhythm that has his back arching and his breath catching in shallow little pants.
He strokes himself without rhythm, without thought, just trying to keep up with the sensations. Itâs dizzying. Addictive. It feels like youâlike your breath in his ear, your slick around his cock, your body shuddering on top of him while you begged him not to stop.
His legs are shaking.
He canât keep quiet.
Whimper after whimper slips through his clenched teeth, and every muscle in his body feels tight with it, like heâs on a wire that could snap.
He presses the toy tighter, rocking slightly against it, chasing friction, and moans.
That sound is what does it.
Because thatâs when the door opens.
Soft.
Quiet.
But he doesn't hear it, and even if he did⌠he canât stop.
You think you hear him from the hall.
Caleb? Should he be here? Did you imagine him?
You step into the room and freeze.
He doesnât even see you at firstâhis eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, lips parted and pink and glistening with spit. His hand is working his cock in short, desperate jerks, and the toy is still humming beneath him, tucked where it shouldnât be, where it hurts so good he might cry.
His thighs clamp tighter.
His hand stutters onceâtwiceâ
Then he looks up, and he sees you.
His moan breaks with your nameâshattered, breathless, embarrassed. But he canât stop. Not now. Not when his orgasmâs already catching, curling low in his spine, stealing his breath.
The second he spills, he gasps your name. He whimpers, loud and high, and comes all over himself.
Youâre standing in the doorway, frozen. Your keys are still in one hand, bag half-off your shoulder, eyes wide.
And then you drop both.
The thud of your bag hitting the floor makes him flinch. He scrambles to pull the toy away, to cover himself, to say somethingâ
But youâre already crossing the room.
Your voice is soft. Too soft.
âFuck, CalebâŚâ
He looks like he wants to disappear. His face is all flushed, shirt damp, thighs still trembling. The toy lies twitching where it fellâslick and spent and vibrating faintly into the sheets.
âIâI didnât meanââ he stammers. His voice is wrecked. âI was justâ I missed youââ
You kneel by the bed, and you smile, blushing red.
Shit. Your smile might kill him.
âMy naughty boy,â you murmur, reaching to brush his hair back from his face. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut.
âYouâre so fucking pretty like thisâŚâ
His eyes openâwide, overwhelmed. âYouâre not mad?â
You shake your head. âMad?â You glance at the mess of him, then back up. âIâm wet, Caleb. I walked in and found you already fucked out and falling apart in my bed, with my toy pressed to your cock.â
His breath catches. You see itâthe way he jolts, like your words are heat poured straight into him.
âI justâŚâ Your voice wavers slightly. âI just wish Iâd seen it.â
He moans softly, the little noise almost like an apology, like the ache of your absence just hit him again.
âIâI didnât mean for you to walk in on me like that,â he says. âIt justâ I couldnât stop thinking about you. What it felt like⌠when you were on me. Shaking. Crying. That little moan you make when it goes too highâŚâ
You shift, thighs clenching. His voice alone is doing something to you.
âCan you tell me?â you ask, quieter now. Your fingers brush his hip, soft. âWhat it was like?â
He flushes deeperâgod, heâs pink all the way to his chestâand nods, slowly.
âIt was⌠it was too much,â he admits, a hand coming up to hide part of his face. âLikeâit hurt. But good. It was right on the edge, and it kept pulling me toward it, and I couldnât stop. And I just kept thinking of you. Of your legs around me. Of how wet you were. I wanted to know what it felt like to⌠to fall apart like you did.â
You breathe in sharply.
He lowers his hand, searching your face.
âYouâre red,â he whispers.
You nod, shy, biting your lip. âYouâre not the only one whoâs overwhelmed.â
He sits up a little, dazed, as your hand moves gently to his chest, then downâfingertips grazing just above the waistband of his boxers, through the mess on his stomach. He shivers.
âYou came so much,â you murmur, half in awe. âMessy.â
He groans, softly, hiding his face again. âDonât say that.â
âBut itâs true,â you tease, letting your fingers trace lower. âSo fucking messy, Caleb. I should clean you upâŚâ
His hand catches yours, nervous. âYou donât have toââ
You squeeze gently. âI want to.â
Your voice lowers again, lashes dipping. âAnd then⌠maybe you can help me too.â
He blinks.
âWith your mouth,â you add, barely above a whisper.
You hear his sharp inhale. Heâs trembling again.
You smile, lips brushing his jaw. âIâm already wet just thinking about it. Just from seeing you. You in my bed, with my toy, moaning my nameâŚâ
He groans aloud now, head falling to your shoulder.
âGod, pips, Iâm gonna die,â he mumbles.
âNo, baby,â you whisper. âYouâre gonna eat me out... You're not allowed to die.â
There's this one thing about Caleb in my mind: he genuinely truly terribly wants to live inside your skin. Like literally, not kidding, he'll build a little tent if he could. He'll start withering away if you're not attached to hip, skin to skin, matter of fact let's connect the atoms at this point. Like imagine this, it's a good morning, as good as any morning can get, Caleb has his hand inside your shorts. Nothing is happening, he's not trying to do anything indecent (he is but not now) but he LOVESSSS the warmth of your supple skin and the absolute intimacy of sticking to you first thing in the morning. Brushing your teeth? It's a two person job now; he's either playing with your hair trying to untangle it or just resting his chin on your head, despite your annoyed grumbles. Oh you need to use the restroom? Worry not Caleb is tagging along, counting the tiles or messing with his phone and snorting loudly with the occasional "this is so us". The every "Ah, pipsqueak, you're about to shower? Let me wash your hair!" is a common occurrence now; Caleb can beat any esthetician in terms of hair care lol. Literally no sense of personal space, no privacy, he desperately wants to be close or he'll die.
Then comes the big question- what does he do when he has to act as the big bad colonel? Well worry not, he tries not to cry and think about his precious honey back at linkon while clutching his dogtags and gently caressing the left side of his chest, where he has a cute stash of your polariods, nothing too fancy, just you.
⊠synopsis: you distractedly leave the other half of your airpod on the kitchen counter while you watch porn in your room, prompting your roommate's curiosity.
⊠pairing: roommate!caleb x afab!reader / wc: 7.9k
⊠cw: porn watching, pet names (pip, baby, honey), masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, calebâs pull out game is WEAK, and he kinda invades ur privacy idk, emotional sex, porn with plot, caleb doesnt shut the fuck up during sex, eventual romance
⊠crossposted in my ao3
⊠a/n: a day late to caleb's bday lol :p
It was a normal evening.
It was supposed to be a normal evening.
You were just doing the same things you routinely do whenever your work busted your assâa regimen that consists of your vibrator on one hand, and your phone on the other. And of course, one airpod in and the other one out, just in case your roommate, Caleb, calls you from the living room.Â
Unfortunately, you needed to fall back into that routine tonight. Again. For the fifth time this week. And so, immediately after coming home, with both airpods in your ears, you make your bed with one hand gripping on your phone in your dimly lit room, scrolling through dozens of videos at a porn websiteâtrying and failing to find one that fits whatever sexual fantasy you are up tonight.
Roleplay? Not really.
BDSM? Eh, maybe for another day.
Voyeurism? Feels a little boring tonight.
Distractedly and way too grossly absorbed in your mission, you make your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water while youâre already on the seventh page of the website.
âPreparinâ for bed this early?â Your roommate calls out to you in the living room, albeit muffled by the earbuds. You pull one airpod from your ear and place them unsuspectingly on the counter as you pour yourself a glass.
 âHmm? What was that?â You ask while fixated on the device.
Caleb repeats the question, glancing at you from the sofa, âYouâre sleepinâ early. Tired?â
âOh, yeah. Sleepy as hell,â you murmur, returning to your room with one hand on your phone thatâs on the ninth page of the website, a glass full of water, and one airpod forgotten on the kitchen counter.
âAlright, gânight,â Caleb says with a wave of his hand, watching you disappear from his peripheral vision.
And it was supposed to be a normal evening.
Because as you were burying yourself atop the blankets, tapping on the perfect âamateur sex and creampied by new boyfriend!â video you found at the start of the tenth page to indulge yourself with, Caleb waltzes his way through the kitchen and sees the other half of your airpod sitting invitingly on the countertop.Â
You pull a small vibrator from underneath your pillow, clicking it open to the lowest setting. The couple in the video begins shakily, both their upper faces out of the frame, lenses focusing on their unhurried kissing. With a gulp, you lightly press the toy against your clothed crotch, hovering over your clit.
Curiously, Caleb picks up the airpod on the counter.
The video pauses, but you ignore the warning sign, tapping the other half of your airpod to play it again. The man in the video glides his fingers over the skin of his partner, hands grazing over her perky nipples, eliciting a whine from her, and down, down, and down to her covered and sopping cunt. He drags his fingertips lazily over the cute baby blue panties, collecting the dampness from her slit. Your breath hitches, pulling your underwear to the side as you press the vibrator closer to your clit with one hand and the other grabbing the hem of your shirt, biting onto it.
Caleb presses the airpod against his ear.
Another pause, but you tap the other half again exasperatedly.
Caleb could barely make out the noises. He thought it was just the usual white noise for sleeping that you would play in the background. After all, the sound of air conditioning from the video in the first seconds could be classified as that. But as soon as the noises from the AC were overshadowed by the slow and heavy breathing then to small kisses to the most obscene and downright filthy moans, he freezes.
The woman is begging through high-pitched whines. Pleading that her partner pushes his fucking fingers in her, instead of teasing her like she wasnât his girlfriend. The man lowly chuckles in her ear, slipping his hands into her panties, lips hovering across her cheek.
âHm? Girlfriend? Since when?â
âN-Not fair! I alreadyâah! Asked you âta be m-mine!â
âReally? My sweetheart asked?â
âMmm! Mmhmm!â
âBut why should I touch you here? You filthy girl. Letting yourself be touched by your friend. Youâd let anyone touch you, huh? Thatâs how needy you are, hm? Dâyou need my fingers? Where do you need it? Use your big girl words, baby.â
Calebâs cheeks flush and heat rushes everywhere in his body.
It was supposed to be a normal evening.
Until it wasnât.
Without another second to waste, he pads through the small space of your apartment.
You pull your panties down to your thighs, spreading your legs atop your mattress, pressing the vibrator harder to your clit. With a shaky exhale, you let go of your phone on your breasts, grabbing another longer vibrator underneath your pillow. You press the longer one into your entrance, tapping on the power thriceâto its maximum setting, and slowly push into your wet cunt. You bite back a moan, saliva collecting on the hem of your shirt. The woman in the video moans louder as her partner pushes another finger in her vagina, the other hand deliberately circling around her clit.
âOh my good girl likes when I rub it here and fuck my fingers into her huh?â
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the longer vibrator hits the hilt.
A knock to the door.
âHey uh pip?â
Fuck.
Your eyes fly open as you spit out your shirt, hands frozen in your crotch. âY-Yeah, Caleb? Whatâs up?â You say shakily, in between breaths.
âYou left your other airpod out in the kitchen, you need it?âÂ
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
âNo! Uhâ fuckâ Just leave it by the shelf near the door!â You yell out, helplessly ignoring the relentless vibrating of the toy inside you and unable to pull it away from your clit.
Shit, did you lock the door?
âAre you sure? It might be importantââ
âIâm fucking sure, Caleb! Donât listen to my shit!â You choke, fingers trembling over your toys settled in your pussy while the video continues to play in the background.
âOh baby sheâs clenching for me, you close? Hmm?â
âJust put it on the shelf!â You repeat, finding the strength to pull the toys outâto no avail.
âIâll just come in, okay? Iâll give you your airpodââ
âDonât you fucking dareâ!â
Caleb swings the door open.
âHi,â you gulp.
âP-Please donât stop, please! Put it back in!â
He sees you breathing heavily with one airpod in your ear, moonlight filtering through your sheer curtains, and beads of sweat trickling down your temple.Â
âHey,â Caleb replies, darting his eyes on your body.
Fully engulfed under the sheets.
âJust leave my airpod by the dresser,â you exhale, eyes glazing over the shadows of his taut muscles behind his shirt.
âOkay,â he breathes out, his gaze never leaving your figure and feet planted to the floor as if he didnât hear what you asked him to do. âYou seem to be panting heavily. You okay?â He asks, words rolling off his tongue slowly. You swallow thickly, âOf course, yeah. J-Just a little hot. I think my ACâs acting up,â you grit.
âReally?â Caleb raises his hand to the direction of the wind, âSeems fine to me.â
âSheâs begging so prettily for me, arenât âcha? You want me to put it back in?â
âOh.â
He stares at you, eyes unreadable. There was no movement underneath the sheets, your lips are slightly parted, and a half lidded look on your irises.Â
âCaleb,â you call out.
He takes a step forward, âYes?â
He can feel his bulge hardening as he waits expectantly for your words.
âNgh- ugh- thank you! Thank you! Fuck that feels good!âÂ
âThe other half of the airpod. Leave it by the dresser,â you say casually like you donât have a woman moaning in your ear and a vibrator shoved up your clenching pussy.
Caleb huffs, eyes lingering at the earbud âRight.â
âDonât put it in,â you warn, noticing the way he watches the earbud like a hawk. âWhy not?â Caleb asks. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, âJust donât or else Iâll get mad.â
âFeels good, baby? Right here feels good?â
Caleb fiddles with the airpods between his fingers, signalling the on and off of the video. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting patiently for your roommate to leave you alone.
âIâm cumming! Iâm cumming! Iââ
âFine,â he relents, placing the lone device on your dresser. You expect him to leave.Â
âWhereâs your phone?â He asks, shifting his weight to his other foot.
âCaleb.â
He throws his arms in the air, âJust askinâ geez.â
Perspiration continues to trickle down the sides of your face with an evident blush on your cheeks.
âWhy donât we take your sheets off? Youâre sweatinâ like crazy,â he murmurs, stalking over your trembling figure.
âNo, Caleb! Stop right there!â You beg.
âOh my good girl came a lot, didnât she? Hm? She came a lot, didnât she?â
Oh fuck.
âWhat? Iâll just help you out, âs all,â he shrugs, fixated on your blushing skin, lips slightly parted, and glazed eyes staring at his biceps.
You must think heâs dumb enough not to hear the low vibrations of your toy from underneath the piles of sheets.
âY-Youâfuckâyou can help me by leaving and locking the door on your way out,â you huff. He blinks at you as he stands beside your bed, his shadow looming over you. âNo need to be hostile,â he says, reaching to the end of the blanket. âIâm sure youâre just having trouble sleeping, right? Iâll just lay beside you like we always do when we were kids,â he continued, gently pulling the sheet away from your iron grip.
âPlease fuck me next, god please.â
You gulp. âCaleb, stop,â you beg, eyes looking up at him pleadingly.
He tilts his head in curiosity, âWhy? Iâll just lay beside you, I promise.â
âArenât âcha greedy, your pussyâs just swallowinâ me up and clenchinâ hard.â
Caleb tugs the duvet from you as you protest, âItâs embarrassing, Iâm a grown woman alreadyâ!â
He drags the sheets away from you, exposing your figure.Â
There you are in your full gloryâa smaller vibrator and phone tossed to your side as it continues to show two people fucking like bunnies and panties down to your thighs. Your legs are quivering with every rhythmic vibration from the shoved toy in your pussy, clit swollen, and lips drenched.
âCaleb!â You hiss, both from the cold air and embarrassment, scrambling to pull out the toys away from your crotch. âYou asshoâ!â
âOh baby. Donât even think about finishing that sentence.â
You freeze in your tracks, slowly darting your gaze to your childhood friend standing across your bed, his pupils blown out and lips slightly parted. You swear you could almost see him stick out his tongue and pant like a dog in heat. At this point, you can barely feel any pleasure from the toy in your cunt, just pure torture and discomfort.
âUgh! F-Fuck! Hah⌠You feel so fuckinâ good!â
âC-Caleb?â You whisper, hands itching to grab the blanket and pull out your vibrator from your legs. Your voice cuts Caleb out from his daze.Â
âOh baby,â he repeats in a pout, kneeling to your mattress, prompting you to pull yourself away from him, âWhat are you doing? What are you doinâ with thisâ this⌠atrocious thing?â He asks, peering into your crotch. âAnd what are you doinâ watching this disgusting thing?â He continues, stealing a glimpse of your phone before shutting it close, zipping the sultry moans in your ear.
âYou couldâve just asked me to help you, baby. Right? You should know that,â he rambles, fingers hovering closer.
âDonâtâ!â
âShh, shhh itâs okay. Itâs okay. Calebâs got you,â he yaps, as if his brain is shut and dead, eyes on laser focus and preying on your poor clenching pussy.Â
âCaleb!â You call out, shaking him out from a trance. Caleb shakes his head, turning to you, âYes?â He asks, as if he isnât settling between your legs. âLeave, please,â you beg, tears forming in your eyes. He frowns and he does his stupid head tilt thing that he always seems to do to get what he wants from you.Â
âWhy?â He demands.
âI-Itâs weird! And god I just want some time alone and youâre here looking at my pathetic stateâitâs not even hot and sexy!â You complain, pulling the blanket to your lap. He raises a brow at you but you dart your gaze elsewhere, fixating on the crinkles of your sheets underneath your palms.Â
âHey,â he begins.
You donât budge.
âHey.â
Caleb takes your chin between his fingers and gently pulls it forward, urging you to look at him. âWho said you look pathetic and ânot hot and sexyâ? Hm?â He murmurs, inching closer to you. âIâm more appalled you didnât come to me for help.â
âWeâre friends, Caleb. Friends donât ask you to help you get an orgasm!â You retort with furrowed brows and a scowl.
âI do.â
âWhatâ?â
You could only stare at him owlishly and your mouth agape.Â
âYou know Iâd do anythinâ you ask me to, baby,â he coos, âThis one isnât any different.â
âOh god, no. This would make things weirder between us and I donât want that. Not in a million years, Caleb. No wayâŚâ The words slowly die in your throat as he only peers into your personal space earnestly, his breath fanning your cheeks.Â
âThings have never been normal for us, ever. And Iâve had enough with holdinâ back. So you can either let me help you or we remain tiptoeing around each other forever,â he whispers, thumb caressing your cheek.
You swallow thickly, weighing your options. You glance from Calebâs eyes to his lips, heart thumping against your chest wildly. The incessant vibrating between your crotch turned into agony minutes ago and there seems to be no other way around the situation. With a soft sigh and a bite inside your cheek, you slowly peel the blanket away from you, exposing your shaking legs.
Caleb merely spares a glance on your vulnerable crotch, removing the lone airpod in your ear. âYou trust me to take care of you?â He asks in a low voice. You shy away from his intense stare, nodding.Â
âI need your big girl words, baby,â he muttered, grabbing your chin again, turning you to him, âDo you trust me to take care of you?â
You slowly blink at him, drowning in the cosmos of his eyes and studying every freckle, mole, and blemish on his skin. With bated breath, you say, âYes, Caleb. Please⌠Please take care of me.â
âThen we wonât need this,â he declares, pulling himself away from you and wasting no time to pull out the vibrator from your vagina. âCareful!â You hiss from the soreness, clawing into your sheets.Â
Your roommate chuckles, âIâm sorry, baby. We had to get it out of the way.â
But before you could glare at him, his palms reached for your cheeks, cradling your face with adoration that you were sure you could melt from. âLet me take care of you, okay?â He mumbled, leaning his forehead on yours, pupils dilated and boring into yours. You were floored at the sudden drop of atmosphere within the room, but you were not one to complain. Not when you have the man youâve thought of when watching all those porn for the past months is within your reach.
âAnd for me to take care of you, youâll let me do anything, right?â He asks. You could barely muster a reply with the way you forgot to breathe in the close proximity of your supposed roommate.
âCalebâŚâ
He mentions your name back, the tip of his nose grazing against yours, âHmm?â He steals a glimpse of your lips before looking back at your irises.
âCan you just kiss me?â You exhale.Â
Caleb smiles, one that reaches his eyes, turning them into small squints. Without hesitation, his lips touch yours, barely brushing each other. Until he grabs the back of your head and locks his mouth into yours, eliciting a moan from you. He feels like he might actually ascend into heaven. He dreamt of this moment for as long as he can remember, always daydreaming and losing himself on the thought of how your whimpers would sound like. How your lips felt like. And now that Caleb is here and youâre here with him, he feels like he might actually be in the clouds.
His cheeks are burning as he continues to devour your lips, his heart beating against his ribcage. Your trembling fingers tangle into his hair, pushing him impossibly closer to you. He feels the wet patch from your panties on your thighs, making him groan against your mouth, lapping up the mixed spit.Â
His hands roam across your chest, cupping your breasts over your shirt. Sighs and moans passed between your meeting lips, fingernails digging into the skin of his nape. With a gentle squeeze, he moves forward between your legs, making you lean back into the headboard. He massages your boobs, thumbs grazing over your perky nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. âOh baby theyâre stiff,â he murmurs against your mouth. Caleb reaches from underneath, his hot fingertips trailing your skin until he finds your nipples. He pinches the buds, making you yelp in surprise. He grins, luring your tongue into his mouth and quickly clamping his lips around it, sucking on it.Â
You can feel yourself getting warmer and weaker by the second, your grip loosening and slacking onto your sides as Caleb continues to guzzle your saliva down his throat. With feeble hands, you push away your roommate from completely swallowing you.
âOhâ ugh, enough, please,â you groan, tilting your head back as you shakily prop yourself up. Caleb merely smirks at your request, hands gripping into your hips, âEnough?â He mocks, âWe just started.â
You look up at him with a frail scowl and he snickers, pulling away. âDonât look at me like that, Iâll fulfill my promise, I swear,â he says, tugging his shirt and sweatpants off.
It takes everything in your system to not blatantly ogle at the shadows of his musclesâand you still fail. Admiring every dip and curve of his body, you bite the inside of your cheek, noticing the dog tag around his neck settling just above his massive pecs. He chuckles at your insistent gawking, âCome on, your turn.âÂ
You couldnât even process what he just said, too caught up in drooling over his body that was carved by the gods that you didnât even notice that he stripped you down bare. Your clothes are strewn across the room but you didnât care, not when Caleb smashes his mouth against yours again.Â
âFuck I canât look at you,â he murmurs and you feel your heart sink to your stomach.
What does he mean by that? Did he find you horrifying to look at? What he said was true though, after taking off every fabric from your skin, he went ahead and kissed you again without sparing you a glance.
âI might just fucking cum alone from seeing your body.â
Oh.
Oh.
âYou stupid loser,â you grumble, biting his bottom lip. âWhat did I do?â Caleb suddenly asks, scrambling away to look at you with those large doe eyes that you hate (because you fall for it everytime).
âI thought you fucking hated me for a second back there,â you huff, gaze trailing down to the large tent in his boxers, âTelling me how you canât look at me.â
Caleb shoots you an apologetic grin, his clammy hands reaching for your thighs and rubbing the skin up and down. âSilly girl,â he mumbles, hovering his lips against yours again, âI canât look at you because youâll see how pathetic I am when I cum in my fucking pants.â
You giggle and a sigh escapes your lips when Calebâs meets yours again, feeling his smile with every glide of his tongue. Caleb never knew kissing you would feel this good, and he swears he can get off from just doing this alone with you for the entire night. But he has a mission to fulfill and he refuses to leave you hanging.
With profound determination, he palms your crotch gently, collecting the wetness in his hand. âOh I just know youâll feel good. My god,â he says.
âWeâre not even halfway through this and youâre already clicking your heels together in excitement,â you joke and his chest bubbles up in laughter.Â
âCan you blame me, baby? Iâve dreamt of this moment since forever,â he replies, inserting his tongue back into your mouth again. His index finger gently caresses over your slit, making you catch your breathing in your throat. You can only concentrate on one thing, and with so much going onâhis finger slowly rubbing over your entrance, his tongue dancing with yours, and his other hand reaching over and massaging your breasts, you were far too gone. To the point where you actively have to think about breathing before your lungs could collapse.
All your efforts to will yourself to suspire was thrown out the window when Calebâs middle finger grazed over your clit. You choke into his mouth, pulling away from him.Â
âSheâs sensitive, isnât she?â Caleb coos as you throw your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky perfume. He rubs the nub with his fingertips in circular motions, making your legs tremble heavily. Caleb plants open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, tongue slowly gliding the curvature of your skin. His lips latch onto every inch of your skin, noticing the way your breathing hitches with every suck on your body.
And down, down, down, he effortlessly runs his tongue on every crevice of your figure until he comes face-to-face with your boobs. He could cry at the sight alone.
âUnbelievable. Truly unbelievable,â he mumbles, staring at the mounds in your chest, fingers still rubbing your clit in circular motion like itâs his second nature. âYou are unbelievably beautiful,â he grits, burying his face right between your breasts. You gasp, feeling him slowly lick long stripes between your nipples like heâs carving a path to them.Â
As soon as his lips catch your left nipple, he groans and you choke a breath.Â
âHahâ Calebââ
âHmm? You like it?â He mumbles in between your breasts.
You canât even reply even if you wanted to, your hand flying to his neck and gripping onto it like your life depended on him. He continues to abuse your swollen clit, collecting your wetness from your entrance. âYouâre shaking so much. Thatâs what you get for using a toy instead of calling for me,â he reprimands.
âDonât scold me now, Calebâah!â
He pinches your nub and bites your nipple gently, earning a yelp from you and nails dig into his skin harder. ââM sorry, baby. I just wanted to remind you, âs all,â he mumbles, focusing on your labored breaths. He spits out the swollen nipple, a trail of his saliva connecting to his chin as he leans forward to your other breast.
âWonât scold you anymore, promise,â he continues, pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb and sucking on your right boob.
âO-oh shit! Youâ I canâtâ!â You press your legs together, only for Caleb to pull it apart effortlessly with his one hand, pinning your left leg to the mattress. âI know baby, I know,â he coos, almost whining as he forces himself to remove his mouth from your addictive breasts, propping himself up. You fall your hands to your sides in naught. âIt feels too good, right? Right?â He breathed lightly, eyes trailing down your body. He stares at your boobs, jiggling to the way you writhe under his touch, and the mixture of sweat and his saliva trickling down between the valley. He could feel his dick harden at the sight alone, urging him to swallow thickly and turn to your face instead.
Which was a mistake.
The moment he does, he is met with your gaping, trembling lips with drool slipping out on the side and half-lidded eyes staring up at him. You catch him peering at you and mindlessly, you outstretch your arms to him, making grabby hands.
âOh how can I deny you? My sweet sweet baby,â he babbles, removing his hand from your thigh and interlocking his fingers with yours. Without warning, he inserts his ring finger to your entrance with his thumb still hovering over your clit, drawing a choked breath from you.Â
âBaby youâre so warm, I can feel you so much,â he muses, âIt makes me feel⌠things.â
You furrow your brows at him but before you can ask him, what the hell is he talking about, he yanks his finger out of you and settles it onto your hip, the other one still laced around yours, and lays on his stomachâface to face with your crotch. He watches your slick run down your folds albeit hypnotized.Â
Glossy and looks inviting, itâs like it was his first time seeing pussy. But itâs yours. That changes everything, because he doesnât count all the other ones he had before you. Simply âcause itâs not yours. Caleb sticks his tongue out and exhales heavily, feeling all the lust clouding his mind. Â
âIâm going to fuck my tongue into you,â Caleb declares casually.
âHuh? Whaâ!â
You couldnât even cry out if you wanted to, not when he rams his tongue into your entrance without any other explanation. He whimpers, dazed and watery eyes flickering up at yours, gripping onto your hips like his lifeline. Caleb drags himself into the cold mattress, desperate for any relief in his boxers as he wraps his lips around your cunt, tongue flicking up to your clit. Your fingers grab a fistful of his hair, unknowingly planting him further into your pussy.Â
âF-fuck,â you whine, throwing your head back, feeling him lay his tongue flat against your slit, slurping up all your sweet sweet juices.Â
âI love how you taste, so so fuckinâ delicious,â he yaps, feeling the vibrations of his words in your vagina. Caleb buries tongue further into you, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit, âI could stay here forever, youâd let me do that right?â He asks, licking a long sloppy stripe into your entrance. You gnaw your bottom lip, wheezing from the way he was eating you out like you were his last meal. âRight? Right?â He huffs, swallowing and slurping at the same time like he was crazed.Â
You open your mouth to answer but he wouldnât even let you do that as he kitten licks and sucks your clit rhythmically. âCaleb, wait!â You choke, pulling his hair harder.
âBaby, youâd let me eat you all night, right?â He repeats, looking up at you with fawn written in his features. You blink at him, huffing and puffing, âI-I canâtââÂ
âWrong answer baby,â he grunts before diving back into you, cramming his wet muscle into you again. âY-you didnât even let me fuckinâ hah! Finish my goddamnâ hng sentence!â You exclaim, thrashing your hips into his greedy mouth, feeling the tip of his nose rub against your swollen nub again. Your legs shake profusely beside him, growing weaker with each second that Caleb fucks his tongue into you.Â
âDonâtâ mwa!-- needâ mwa!-- to!â He replies in between messy kisses, exploring your cunt feverishly.Â
âOh f-fuuuck, feels good. Sho sho good,â you whine, pressing your head into the pillow in embarrassment. Caleb continues to eat you out like all his love for you could only be translated into your pussy, smearing his freckled face with all your juices while lapping every single liquid that you excrete. âI know baby, I know,â he mumbles and he feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth.Â
âBaby I think sheâs close. Are you close, baby?â He heaved and you could only shake your head, âI-I dunâ know!â
He chuckles against your clit and that does it.
Youâre spasming, gush of liquid rippling out of your pussy and straight into Calebâs throat, guzzling them down like theyâre sacred and all so holy. Your legs shake intensely from the onslaught of his tongue, seeing the kaleidoscopic colors and light behind your eyes as you muffle your screams into the cushion while you dig your nails into his scalp and knuckles.Â
âF-fuhâ! Caleb! E-enough!â You plead, jaw widely ajar as Caleb laps up your slobbering mess of a cunt. âMmh, not yet. Please,â he begs back, rubbing circles in your hips. With a choked breath and all the remaining strength in your body, you pull his head away from your sensitive pussy.Â
You exhale in short breaths as you memorize the sight from across youâyour childhood friend kneeling between your legs with the dim light kissing his flushed skin. A slippery trail of your arousal drips down his chin, glistening under the moonlight. You mindlessly follow the movement of his chest, admiring his muscles and down to his crotch, noticing the wet patch on his boxers.
âI love how you taste,â Caleb declares in between pants, tongue licking a stripe on his lips. He seems spellbound, fixated on your half-lidded eyes and hair sprawled across the pillows. His heartbeat thumps wildly against his chest, wanting to pinch himself to realize that all of this is real. That he just ate you out ferociously, the same way he dreams about it every single night.
âI love you.â
âHuh?âÂ
You slip your fingers away from his grasp and detach his grip from your hip. He frowns at your actions, âI said I love you,â he declares. You ignore his words and the heavy scowl heâs sending in your direction, noticing the water forming in his eyes. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to crush you with his weight, his heavy bulge protruding against your stomach.
You burrow your nose into his scalp, fingers threading through his hair, âYou sure about that? Or are you just saying that to have sex with me?â You mumble.
You can feel the glare Caleb is forming against your skin but you refuse to let him prop himself up.
âWhat do you mean? I donât care if I donât fuck you, Iâm in love with you,â he grumbles, resisting the urge to bite the curve of your neck in annoyance. You hum in response, massaging your fingertips into his scalp, having him slowly melt into your touch. He was glad you were caressing him in all the right places, feeling all his irritation slip away momentarily.
âWell youâre in luck,â you murmur. He furrows his brows and you let him pull himself up, the palm of his hand beside you.
âWhat?â He asks questioningly, his dogtag dangling close to your breasts. You send him a soft smile, âI feel the same way, perchance.â
Caleb stares at you incredulously, âPerchance?â
You giggle, âI⌠I love you too, Caleb.â
Blink.
Once.
Twice.
Tears form in his eyes.Â
âWhatâŚ?â He gags.
âYou donât like it?â You raise a brow at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Before you can even register the salty liquid rolling down his face, he mangles himself into your limbs, burying into your skin.Â
âC-Caleb?â
You were replied with muted sniffles and pecks of kisses in your neck.Â
âAre you okay?â You ask again. He nods, wrapping his biceps around your shoulders and gripping you tight. âI-I just donât think this will happen,â he admits.
âWhy not?â You trace your name into his back followed by small hearts and his name. He just shrugs in response and you feel your collarbones turning damp because of his tears. You lowly chuckle, fingertips creeping up to his nape.
âHmm.. So does that mean we wonât fuck anymore?â You ask, lips curving up in an amused smile.Â
Calebâs ears perk up, propping himself up with his elbow, âYouâd let me do that?â
It was your turn to shrug, âThatâs why you were here in the first place right?â
He didnât have to be told twice. He pulls himself up between snivels and peels his boxers away. And the sight alone can bring you to your knees.
âOh.â You inhale shakily, âYouâre big.â
Caleb glances down to the direction of your eyes, âI guess itâs above average,â he says as-a-matter-of-factly. And you hate him for it. Because what does he mean that after all this time, after all the years of being roommates with him, this is what heâs hiding from you?!Â
Your train of thought gets cut off as he strokes your cheek with the palm of his hand, hovering above you carefully. âJust so you know, I do this out of love for you,â he mentions, staring into your blown out pupils.Â
âI know, I do too,â you reply, bringing a hand to his jaw. You steal a glimpse of his lips and he smiled, âGuess weâre even.â
Before you can even ask what he means, Caleb leans into you, locking his mouth against yours. Caleb feels like he could kiss you for eternity and still be insatiable, especially when he finally had a taste of youâhearing your soft whimpers and your attempts to muffle your sounds by swallowing them all as his tongue glides over your soft lips. Caleb sighs contentedly between your locked mouths, sucking on your bottom lip. You whine helplessly, slightly fluttering your eyelids only to be met with his pupils, staring right back at you while you kiss each other delicately. He slowly pulls away, breathlessly peering into your featuresâmemorizing each mole, freckle, and scar.
You hated having him not in your mouth, however. So you close the distance between you two, tangling your legs around his hips and feeling his impossibly hard bulge into your stomach, meeting Calebâs lips once more.Â
Caleb pushes his thumb against your chin, shoving his tongue down your throat.
âHah⌠Ca⌠Caleb,â you whine, cupping both his cheeks with the palms of your hand. He hums mindlessly, too engrossed with the way you taste.
âI think we should fuck.â
The gears in Calebâs brain begin to churn. His eyes fly wide open, meeting your squinted gaze and grin.Â
âY-You think?â He mutters.Â
You nod.Â
He glances down and nods the same, gulping. Caleb takes his leaking tip, aligning himself against your slobbering entrance before huffing.
âIs this your first time?â You ask curiously and he shakes his head with shame written all over his features, âUnfortunately not.âÂ
âThen itâs okay, itâs not my first time either.â
He whips his head to your direction faster than the speed of light. Caleb gazes down at you with his purple puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out in dejection. âWhat do you mean itâs not your first time? Youâve had other people before me?â He seethes, jealousy bubbling up his chest and red eyes welling up, urging you to roll your eyes playfully, âIâm not your first time either, baby. Weâre even.â
He didnât even hear what you said. His clouded brain could only register the pet name you just called him and it bogged him how you could be oh so perfect.
âOkay,â he says casually, forgetting what the conversation was about.
Caleb returns to his mission, dragging the head of his cock to your entrance. You gulp, steadying your breathing as you feel him slowly collecting your liquid between your legs. And the second that his tip sinks into your cunt, he shivers. He could feel the tears forming back in his eyes again. He focuses on your crotch, drooling at the glistening and dripping cunt, With a shaky breath, âI-Iâll push myself in.â
Fat tears roll down Calebâs cheeks as he eases his impossibly hard cock into your warm cunt.Â
âO-oh, fuck,â he whines, creases forming between his eyebrows. He canât even look at you and heâs glad that youâre suppressing all sounds from your throat. Because heâs sure the moment you let out the slightest moan, heâd cum without even burying himself halfway yet.
âBaby, youâre so warm inside,â he cries, choking back a groan. His eyes find the ceiling, praying to all the gods above of a miracle of letting him last for more than a minute inside you. âCaleb, baby, please push yourself in,â you beg.
And thatâs all it took to thrust himself to the hilt.
âS-shit! Caleb!âÂ
âGod. F-fuck,â he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His grip on your hips tightens as the salty liquid runs down his cheeks, breathing unstable, and focused on your warm and snug cunt. He darts his gaze to the inky sky behind the sheer curtains in your room, silently praying to the gods to let him last at least a minute.Â
Unfortunately, fate doesnât seem to be on his side tonight. Because the moment he ends his prayer, he decides to gawk at you beneath him. Which ends up being his second mistake for the night. Your tear-glazed eyes bore into his with that half-lidded look that feels like heâs magnetized to you all over again, your swollen lips quivering at the biiig stretch he has in your tight and slick pussy.
Heat rushes to his cheeks and words coiled at his throat, âD-Donât look at me like that,â he pleads, hips frozen in place.Â
You pout, âLook like what?â You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, light touches traveling down his back, turning to lightning shivers in his body.
He shudders, screwing his eyes shut.
âCaleb,â you call out, right hand reaching to his jaw. âMove. Please.â
He didnât need to be told twice. Caleb removes his hands from your hips and instead presses firmly onto your thighs, pushing it open.Â
âOpen up for me more, baby. Come on,â he encourages, sprawling your legs out in a wide v shape. With his hands migrating to your ankles, heâs gawking straight between your legs.Â
âCalebâfuuckâ Youâre so slowâ!â Caleb cuts you off with a harsh thrust, making your body jolt against the mattress, âI-Iâm sorry but you gotta-hck! Understand how your pussy feels too good for me!â He retorts, bucking sloppily into you. You choke on your saliva as his sharp hips pivot, his cock burying deeper into your gummy walls, jerking into you back and forth like heâs lost all control.Â
âCaleeeb, fuck rightâ ah!â You bite down your lip, his dick vigorously pummelling in and out of you, grip tightening around your ankles. âNgh, babyyy,â you whimper, gasping at the immense pace heâs starting, fucking you mercilessly with eyes rolled to the back of his head. He presses his hands into the back of your thighs, pushing you forward in the meanest mating press, your legs hanging in the air above his shoulders.
âOh shit Caleb! Youâre shoo deep,â you moan, salty liquid finally running down your cheeks. Caleb notices, tilting his head forward and licks the tears away as if he wasnât sobbing in pleasure himself.Â
âAtta girl, atta girl,â he cries, pistoning into you deeper until you were certain your bodies would be carved into the mattress. âFeels good? This feels good, baby?â He asks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You couldnât even give him an answer even if you wanted to. He pulls himself out and shoves all of his dick into you, your cunt continuing to clamp around him like he deserves to stay there forever.
âThere you go,â he babbles, ramming into you as he nibbles into your skin, âThere you go baby. Keep taking it like a good girl.â His praises send shivers down your spine, heat enveloping your bodies. Caleb chokes, plunging into you one last time before burying himself into you carefully. âIâm so proud of you,â he mumbles, grinding his hips against yours. âYou make me so so proud.â
âNgh Caleb, whyâd you stop?â You mewl, tangling your fingers into his hair, pulling him up to meet his eyes. You were met with your roommate sniveling and in his most pathetic stateâall because of your pussy. âI never felt this way,â he blubbers.Â
âMe too, honey,â you admit, scratching his scalp lightly. âFeels too good baby,â he whines, rutting into you like an animal in heat. Before you can even reply to his yammering, he leans forward, capturing your lips.
His tongue tangles against yours, moaning and writhing into your touch. With a guzzle of your saliva down his throat, he pulls away. You gaze into his blown out irises, electricity jolting between the distance. With a heavy exhale, Caleb slowly pulls out of your cunt, never breaking eye contact and drives into you.Â
âHngh! Hahâ Caleb!â
âOh baby, there we go. You like that?â He groans, pummelling into you unhurriedly, your melodic moans echoing in the steamy air.Â
âYou like that?â plap! âI know you like that, baby.â plap! âRight? Justâ!â plap! âNice and gentle and slow,â He continues to plunge into you forward with shallow and slow thrusts.
âJust take it like a good girl baby, youâre doinâ such a good job for me. There we go, there we go,â he continues as you only gaze up at him with fat tears both rolling down your cheeks, a soft smile grazing your features as his dick hits your sweet spot. âLet me pick up the pace okay? Iâll pick up the pace now,â he blabbers.
Your pussy clamps down on his dick greedily, sucking him impossibly deeper as his words turn into a string of cries and whimpers. âI know baby, I know. Itâs okay,â he yaps, continuing to smother you with his kisses and propelling you forward into the mattress with his thrusts.
You donât even understand half of what heâs saying, too absorbed with the feeling of his cock satisfying you more than any vibrator you own. Everything was just perfectâfrom his bruising touch, his whines above you, his tears dripping into your cheeks, mixing with yours. You wrap your arms around his tensed shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Your feverish strokes catches him off guard, eliciting a choked whimper from him, âOh baby, Iâm so fucking dizzy. I think my brainâs fucking empty.âÂ
If you think you were going insane, Caleb feels like heâs about to die and explode with the way he pounds into you, exerting more strength into fucking you than heâs ever before. Heâs delightfully delirious, crying and out of his mind, still unsure if this was real. He can feel the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix, short pants of âAh! Ah!â escaping your lips whenever he does.
âBaby, baby,â he calls out, eyes wide open and scrambling to look into yours, âIâfuckâ n-not gonna last. Need y-you toâhahâ cum,â he manages to say in between pants. You nod profusely, embracing him closer until the tip of his nose grazes against yours.
Caleb removes one iron grip from your thighs, his hands snaking between your bodies. He flicks his finger between your folds, exploring your swollen clit, making you arch your back in pleasure with a scream. His pace is frantic now, his mouth agape with drool and tears trickling down your skin. He was not kidding when he said heâs going braindead. Your limbs are going limp under his weight, rocking your hips forward to bring yourself the one thing that you crave for the whole evening.
âCaleb, mâgonna cum, mâgonna cum!â You exclaim, lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with salty tears continuously dribbling down your face. He gulps, âCome on, cum for me. Cum for me,â he hums, fingers rubbing in circular motion against your nub.Â
You swear you could get lost in the cosmos of his eyes, drawing pure passion in his irises. And before you could notice the way his gaze softens, his thumb presses harder into your sensitive clit, urging you to gush out a weekâs worth of pent-up frustration. Youâre shivering in his embrace, wailing his name and thrashing as your climax rushes into you, pussy squelching and clenching around him.
âOh fuck baby donât squeeze, donât squeeze!â He retreats his hand from your clit to your jaw, cradling it softly in contrast to his harsh thrusts.
How can you control your firm grip around him when he wouldnât even let up with his unforgiving pace?Â
âShit! Baby I wonât be able to pull out, I-Iâm sorryâ! Iâhck!âÂ
Your hardened nipples brush against Calebâs pecs as you squirm underneath him, vision blurring with tears and ecstasy as you cup his face with your hands, fondling his damp cheeks. He purses his lips, nuzzling into your touch, mouth parted as low moans and groans fall from his lips.
âCaleb,â you call out, ignoring the slow burn in your crotch from the overstimulation. He looks straight into you, fingers trembling against you, âI love you.â
His cock twitches at your words.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â He exclaims, while mercilessly pinning you in the mating press.Â
Caleb pumps you full of his dick with his eyes boring into you and within a second, he climaxes, hard. Stripes of his cum shooting up your womb, his body growing limp as you feel the ribbons of hot release that splatters deep into your cunt.Â
You were sure he wasnât sorry at all.
Caleb sucks through his teeth sharply, gyrating into you one last time before forcing himself to slide out of you. He notices the slobbering mess of his cum spilling out of your pussy mixed with your wetness in between you, eliciting a snarky smirk in his face.
âStop fuckinâ staring you perv,â you huff, making him turn to you. He gives you a dopey smile and kisses your tear-stained cheeks. One kiss turns into two, then into four, then it turns into him full on smothering you with sloppy open mouthed kisses all over your face.
âCaleb! Stop!â You exclaim between giggles, feeling his shit-eating grin across your skin. âHow can you still have the energy for this?!â You demand, flailing underneath him which deemed futile.Â
âWellâ mwa! I just hadâ mwa! The most mindblowingâ mwa! Toe-curlingâ mwa! Sex Iâve ever hadâ mwa! Withâ mwa! The girl I loveâ mwa! Because she left her airpod on the kitchen counter.â
âHey! You were the one who barged in here and pulled my sheets away like a fucking maniac! If it were any other person I wouldâve called the cops,â you grumble, flicking his nose exasperatingly. He plops down into you in response, crushing you with his weight and knocking the air out of your lungs.
âWellâheh⌠I got curious to what you were listeninâ... Sorry,â he replied without any remorse. You audibly gasp, smacking his back, âSo thatâs why my video gets paused every damn second!âÂ
He only chuckles in response as you hurl your palms into his back in embarrassment, âWhat! Can you blame me for being curious? At least we got around to what we wanted anyway,â he argued, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You groan and roll your eyes at his words, featherlight touches reaching into his sweaty back. And with a soft exhale between your tangled limbs, you murmur into his ear, âYouâre right. Thank you, my sweet boy.â
Letâs just say sparks of electricity shoot up his system again.
a/n: first time writing smut and i'm SPENT i fought for my life writing for this thing! didn't expect this to reach almost 8k words lmao. anywayz, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <3
âshe's getting on my nerves, you don't love her... stop lying with those words!â
⥠caleb âĄ
sypnosis: you and caleb have been best friends for years, growing up and living together since childhood. nothing more and nothing less... so why did seeing him with that bitch hurt so much?
wc: 20k (i know, sorry, i got carried away but it's good i promise)
a/n: hai!! thank you so much for all the love and support on my first lads smutfic i posted for valentines day, i did not expect it to blow up like that (calebcore). as a token of my appreciation, please take this caleb smutfic as a gift. this is my longest written piece as of yet, so if this flops i'm gonna pull a caleb. (･â˘Ěá´-)â§
reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3
content: fratboy!caleb x fem!reader, college au, reader is a little naive, heavy possessiveness on both sides (c'mon, it's caleb), heavy jealousy, mean caleb, reader's manipulative, lots of sappy feelings, pure filth, porn with plot, smut (lots of sex, beware!! and no details, find out lol), all acts are consensual, not edited.
"what was that, pipsqueak? couldn't hear ya from up here." caleb smirked, violet eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned down a little.
"calebbb! give me back my phone, i'll be late for my nail appointment." you whined, once again trying to snatch your phone out of his grip. however, your attempts were futile and comical; as the obviously taller man kept extending his hand out of your reach purposely.
"ask me nicely and maybe, just maybe, i'll give it back." he teased, chocolate brown fringes falling over his eyes as he tilts his head to the side.
"stop being mean!" you huff out, annoyed as you kept tiptoeing and reaching up to grab your phone.
caleb continued to watch you helplessly struggle against his height with nothing but amusement. he was more focused on how your skirt hiked up with every small jump, revealing more of the soft skin of your thighs. or how your tits cutely jiggled a few inches right below his face as you wore a pink laced babydoll top.
it was wrong and downright perverted, but god did it make his cock throb.
"caleb-" your words were cut short as you lost your footing, the thick heel of your mary janes slipping on the wooden floor of your living room. you yelped, face planting on caleb's chest as he wrapped his free arm around your waist to ground you.
"woah, easy there, pipsqueak. if you wanted a hug from me so bad you could've just asked." caleb lightly joked, making you pout as you looked up at him with a gaze he could only describe as-
how to get caleb hard in under two seconds.
your eyes were probably his most favorite feature of you. they were so doey, how they'd disappear when you'd giggle over his jokes, how your pupils would dilate when he bought you those stupidly adorable bows you wear on your hair; or how you'd look at him like he's ripped your heart straight out of your chest when you didn't have things go your way.
lethal puppy eyes.
"please caleb?" such a sultry voice only you could produce that could make even the strongest man on earth crumble; and god, caleb was definitely not the strongest soldier on the battlefield when it came to you.
"okay, okay, here." he smiled, handing you back your phone as his eyes briefly glanced at the dangling apple phone charmâwhich he had one as well to match with you.
"yay, thanks. i'm gonna go then, my girl friends are waiting for me." your eyes lighten up, giving him a girly smile which nearly sent his soul flying.
"mhm, make sure you make it in time for your math lecture, y'know how strict that professor is. batting those cute lashes of yours won't work on him like it does on me." caleb reminded you, his tone became slightly stern, but you only giggled at the sudden shift of his demeanor.
"roger that, captain." you gave him a small salute, making his small facade break for a couple of seconds as he cracked a smile.
"cheeky brat." he shook his head as he watched you rush out the door, purse adorned on your shoulder. suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pockets.
ding!
your $100 transaction at nailsbytojisbbg is complete
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
you walked out of your last lecture, chit-chatting with a classmate as you exited the building. you noticed the familiar figure of a tall, broad man in the distance, wearing a white tanktop and gray shorts.
your lips curled into a smile, quickly waving your classmate goodbye as you quickened your footsteps. but, your smile would drop as you observed that he was not alone.
a girl, whom you've never met before, emerged from behind him as they both conversed. your steps became less urgent, a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach and chestâmaking you nauseous.
before you could turn around and walk away, caleb already caught your eyes, smiling as he waved at you. now there was absolutely no way in avoiding him, so you tried your best to reciprocate a smile to him, using one of your freshly manicured hands to wave back.
the distance between you two, or rather three, soon closed as caleb now stood in front of you; backpack slung over his shoulder.
"finished your classes, pips?" caleb asked, eyeing you playfully as if to prevent you from lying to him.
"yes, why wouldn't i?" you scoffed, making him chuckle.
"just checking 'cause you have a bad habit of skipping that class and i don't want you to fail." he pinched your cheek and although he teases you with this all the time, for some reason it was irking you now specifically because that stupid random girl was standing beside him.
you didn't want her to think that caleb knew dumb girls like you!
"i'm not failing that class, caleb. also, i only skip that class when needed, you're making me sound like a bad student." you glared at him, swatting his hand away from your face.
caleb's eyes widened at the sudden ill reaction from you, holding his hands up to surrender.
"my bad, pipsqueak; didn't know you were all studious now." caleb lightheartedly chuckled, making you roll your eyes.
"whatever, i guess we're not going home together since you have company." you commented, your tone a bit vice as you glanced at the girl next to him who quietly took in the interaction. caleb noticed the heavy tension between you two, thinning his lips as he mentally slapped himself for not introducing you both to each other.
"oh, caleb, it's fine. you could go home with your sister, we could catch up on the project another time." she smiled, making you almost puke in your mouth.
your eyebrows pinched together at her words.
sister?
you weren't his damn sister, did he not talk about you to her? all of caleb's friends knew of your presence in his life as caleb always made sure to let the whole world know about the one and only person that mattered to him the most.
you.
although you and caleb aren't related by blood, you were just as close to him as real family, and likewise for you. your adoptive grandmother passed away a few years back when the two of you were still high schoolers.
josephine, your grandma or gran as you both would call her, was a pretty kind old lady. she always treated you two like her own, making sure that you and caleb were nothing short of living a normal childhood. the initial plan was to only adopt you, but after seeing how inseparable you and caleb were, she didn't have the heart to snatch you away from him.
it was odd because you both weren't related, but she never pried deep into why.
all because of an apple.
when caleb was first brought in, he was hostile and scared; like most kids would. no matter how much the nurses and caretakers tried, they couldn't get him to take a single bite of food.
so one night, you saved your apple from dinner by hiding it under your bed, waiting for the lights to go out. after deeming the coasts to be cleared, your small footsteps tiptoed to the boys room as you opened the door to find him crouched against the wall; head buried in his knees as he sniffled.
you approached him with a gentle aura, sitting on your knees in front of him as you softly tapped his arms; glossy amethyst eyes meeting yours before landing on your small hands that offered him an apple.
the rest was history.
gran's death hit you both hard, but she always thought two steps ahead; leaving her inheritance for both you and caleb to use towards your education and living expenses.
she knew how much caleb wanted to be a fighter pilot and work for the DAA one day. as for you, well, you're a bit... slower on the run. you didn't know what you wanted to be and to be honest, school really wasn't your thing. gran always assured you that you didn't need to have things figured out so early and that you'd eventually have things sorted out... but that was four years ago.
you're now a sophmore in college while caleb's in his senior year.
"ah, no, y/n isn't my sister. she's my best friend, actually." caleb corrected, rubbing the back of his nape as the girl's eyes widened at the revelation, quickly apologizing.
"it's fine, most people assume that anyways, so we're used to it. we grew up together, so in a way, it makes sense." you shrug, making caleb frown.
"trust me, i'd never wanna be related to this pipsqueak here, she's a handful." caleb poked fun at you, making you groan as you pinched his side, making him yelp.
"i'm not!" you defended, making him laugh.
"as you say. now, before i forget, y/n this is my classmate from my mechanics lecture, ___. we're both in the aviation program, so we're paired up for the final project." he explained with a bright smile, but the commonalities between them only made your skin crawl.
why did he smile around her like that?
was he that happy to have someone like her in his field of interest?
were you not enough for him?
all these questions assaulted your mind, giving you a rising migraine.
"hello, earth to pipsqueak, you with me?" his voice woke you up, making you sigh.
"i wanna go home, tired." you shortly said before walking off, not bothering to wait for him or glare at that bitch one last time.
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
you were splayed on the couch, head rested against the soft apple cushion you forced caleb to purchase years back because it seemed like a perfect buy. too lazy and annoyed to go up to your room and change out of your clothes, you decided to cool off by listening to some music.
as you leisurely listened to your playlist, you observed your nails which you got done earlier. the music blared in your ears and you failed to notice the jingling sound of the door-lock, the knob twisting open before revealing a tired caleb with arms full of groceries.
you took a quick look at him before quickly gluing your eyes back on your nails. your best friend noticed, a small smile perking up as he realized that you were still a bit annoyed at him for earlier.
that was no biggie, he had no problem in apologizing to you hundreds of times until you forgave him.
that's how it always was for you two, even as kids. as adorable and cheeky you were, you were a damn klutz too. so, you'd end up tripping and bumping into tables, causing the beautiful antic vases gran thrifted to fall and shatter on the floor.
not wanting you to get into trouble, he'd take the blame for you, saying he knocked it over when playing basketball inside.
when you two argued, it was always short lived no matter who was in the wrong; because caleb would always end up being the first to apologize, not being able to stay mad or distant from you. if he was to describe your place in his life in just a few words, he'd say you're just as important as the air he needed to breathe.
it's natural for him to need you, to want you and to love you.
caleb kicked off his shoes after closing the front door, walking over to the couch where you were resting and ignoring his presence. with a small grunt, he placed the grocery bags down before hopping on the couch; plopping right on top of you without exerting his entire weight, not wanting to crush you.
you groaned in both annoyance and the sudden weight of his body, shooting him a glare from between your fingers, but he only grinned at you.
"still mad at me, pipsqueak?" caleb asked, placing his head on your stomach as peered up at you, giving you his stupid puppy eyes.
literally, he looked like a sad, wet puppy.
it took everything in your willpower to not throw away every ounce of anger and jealousy you had boiling inside of you to just wrap your arms around him.
so, you just closed your eyes and ignored him, turning up the volume on your phone.
caleb frowned at your actions, using a hand to tug on the wire as the earphone plugged in your right ear fell.
"hey, i'm talkin' to ya, pips." his voice was soft, but harbored a little bit of disappointment.
"don't wanna talk to you." a childish huff left your mouth as you glared down at him, but to caleb you looked like an angry kitten.
so, he took bait.
"really? so after paying for these cute nails, you won't even show me? no 'thank you, caleb! you're the best in the world!' ? i think i've spoiled you rotten." he lets out an exasperated sigh, but his expression is more fond than annoyed.
his gaze drifts back to your nails, his fingers briefly wrapping around your wrist to take a closer look.
"cute and expensive..." he tuts, but his thumb is gently stroking the softness of your wrist.
"what are you implying? that i get a job and work my cute ass off?" you murmured, your tone full of offense just at the thought.
he lifts his gaze back to your face, his playful smirk back in place.
"of course not. i don't mind providing for your cute ass until we both reach our graves and you know that, y/n." he laughs, shaking his head in mock annoyance. his grip on your wrist loosens, but his fingers continue the light stroking motion almost absentmindedly.
"but now that you mention it, maybe having a taste of the real world wouldn't be so bad after all. then you'd be more appreciative of all the things i do for you." his eyes dancing with amusement as he feigns indifference.
of course, caleb didn't mind whether or not you wanted to get a job. in fact, he liked being able to provide for you and spoil you rotten! seeing the joy in your eyes when he agreed to buy you those stupidly overpriced trinkets that now decorate both of your rooms, or shopping for clothes and shoes and of course your nails and makeup.
after everything you've done for him, which was simply existing in his lonely life, he felt like he owed you his whole life. he'll never forget that night, when the two of you had nothing, yet you gave him everything.
the kindness of your heart.
"tch, now you really do sound like my brother." you joked, knowing how much it irked him when you called him that.
a grimace flashes across his face, his grip on your wrist tightens momentarily. he always hated it when you called him your brother or when someone mistakenly addressed you as his sister.
"don't call me that." he mutters, his voice firm and possessive.
"then don't nag at me like one." you bit back.
his expression softens, his grip loosening back into a gentle touch. he sighs, a mixture of frustration and concern creeping into his expression.
"i just... i worry about you, alright? i try to give you everything you want, but you don'tâ" he cuts himself off, the words hanging in the air, as if choosing whether to continue or not.
"i don't what?" you cocked an eyebrow.
"nevermind." caleb mumbled under his breath, lifting himself off of you, only for you to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back.
"no, say it." you looked up at him with a puzzled expression.
he looks away, his gaze locking on a small crack in the wall, his voice low and gruff. he's struggling to articulate his feelings, not wanting to hurt you.
"you don't... apply yourself. you spend your time on things that don't matter. you have talents, but you don't use them. you're wasting your potential, pipsqueak. gran left behind so much for us, i'm sure she'd want you to take advantage of the path she built for us." caleb explained, violet eyes locked with your as his tone was stern but still embrace a gentleness to itâhoping that you could take his words to heart.
which you did, but not in the way he wanted you to.
"are you getting tired of me, caleb?" your voice wavered, coming out like a whisper.
his eyes widen in surprise, and he shakes his head vehemently.
"no, god no. it's not that at all. it's justâ" he pauses, his gaze flitting away for a moment before returning to you, his expression a mix of frustration and conflict as he pursues his lips.
"we've known each other since we were kids. you're just as smart as i am, so why don't you want to be...more? pips, i don't mind devoting my whole life to feed you, spoil you endlessly and so much moreâbut i want you to seek out more in life. we both came a long way, from being unwanted to finding each other. i just want you to take everything that you can." a gentle calloused hand came up to stroke your cheek, his fingers lithe and a little cold.
caleb had a habit of getting clamy hands when he was nervous.
"smart? don't make me laugh. you and zayne were always ahead of me, it was so embarrassing to show gran all those red marks on my grades. i-i... i don't have a place in the world of academics. why do you think i spend so much time on caring about how i look? if i can't offer the world my brain then maybe i could make it up with my looks. and if all goes to hell, then i'll just marry some old, rich guy." you shrugged, your words coming out a bit jokingly as you chuckled at the end.
he falls silent, for once rendered speechless by the nonchalance in your tone. he doesn't know what's more infuriatingâthat you think so little of yourself, or that you could so easily imagine a life without him.
"is that what you think you're worth? that being a trophy wife is the best you can do?" he takes a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check.
"at this rate, honestly yeah." you grumbled, looking away from him.
his eyes narrow, a mixture of anger and exasperation in his gaze. he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which were full of hurt at how you downplayed yourself.
"bullshit! you're smart, talented, and goddamn beautiful, and you're just gonna waste it all by marrying some rich guy you don't even like?" caleb grits his teeth, cupping your cheek as his thumb rubbed across the apple of your soft mounds.
"there's no other choice! look, i get it, okay? you have a life too and i don't wanna be a pest leeching off of you forever." your lips quiver, heart pounding in your chest as it felt like someone just twisted the knife in your gut as the words left your lips.
only to be oblivious that your words cut caleb deeper than it did you.
"no choice? there's always a choice for you as long as i'm alive on this earth, y/nâme! i'll work my ass of in this program and get in the DAA to be a badass fighter pilot and make tons of money. i'll be the only man you'll ever need, don't you worry your pretty head over nothin', you hear me? don't ever think you're a liability. i need you, damn it." he poured his heart out, looking deep into your eyes as if he was trying to touch your soul; gently to caress it and help you mend those scars of insecurity that bled.
but you were scared and found it difficult to believe his words, not after seeing how happy he looked earlier with someone else that was not you.
"you don't have to lie, caleb. that girl from earlier... she seems like a better pick for you. she's smart enough to be in the aviation program with you, she's strong and she's pretty. she has beauty and brains while i merely have half." your throat squeeze tightly, a lump forming as it physically hurt to say the next set of words.
"she's perfect for you, caleb." your eyes welled with tears as you looked down to where your hands rested on your stomach.
"i don't care if she's smarter, or more talented. she's not you. she's not the one i grew up with, the one who's always been there for me. this is what she can't offer me. this connection we have. i don't want anyone else, I just want you in my life, pipsqueak." his jaw tightens, his eyes fierce as he speaks. he takes your hand, bringing it to his chest, his heart beating rapidly under your palm.
all the tears that you've been holding back finally slip out one by one, running down your flushed cheeks as streaks of black mascara taints your skin. caleb's eyes softened, sitting on his knees before pulling you up with him, cradling your head in his chest.
"shh... it's okay, i'm here. i'm not leaving you, i promise." he whispers in a honeyed voice, making your heart flutter as you sobbed.
"e-everyone's so mean to me! your friends whistle and laugh when i walk past them in my skirts or if the bow in my hair unties and fallsâo-or when i trip on my pumps! they call me a bimbo or brainless s-slut!" you choked on your tears, clutching onto his shirt as your tears formed damp puddles on the white fabric.
caleb's eyes darkened at your words, blood boiling in fury. his embrace tightened, but a vein could be seen present on his forehead as he tried his best to keep his temper in check while calmly speaking to you.
"they said what now, y/n?" his tone was grave, making your breathing go a bit uneven.
"h-hey, it's okay. i don't see them much anyways." you tried to assure him, but caleb was no longer listening.
all the functions in his brain has gone haywired, loss of connection after hearing you. suddenly, he gently pushed you off his lap, grabbing his phone before shoving it in his pocket.
your eyes widened as you watched him get up from the couch. you reached out, grabbing his wrist.
"where are you going?" you asked, watching him only turn his head to the side but his eyes looked at you faintly. there was no light, just darkness and his face read a dangerous expression.
to kill.
"i'm gonna beat the absolute shit out of them and make them kneel in front of you to apologize." he bitterly spat out, words laced with venom before ripping his hand out of your grasp; not needing much force.
your heart rate quickened as you quickly followed his footsteps, not wanting him to make it out the door. you grabbed the back of his shirt, grounding your foot to hold him back.
"caleb, don't do this! you're in a high-stake program, if they find out about you doing this type of shit, you'll be kicked out! i swear i'm fine." you tried to convince him, but your words only made his anger rise.
he turned around, glaring at you.
"be quiet. you're not fine, i know you're not. so stop lying to me, 'cause i hate it when you do that. i know what's best for you and me, so don't stop me." caleb's tone dropped octaves lower, but you pushed aside your slight fear of him at this moment, caging him in your comparably smaller arms to hold him hostage.
"i won't let you go." you shake your head, holding him tight. you heard him let out a heavy sigh, as his shoulder slumped. you closed your eyes in relief, thinking that you were able to avoid the worst possible situation.
"you really don't like it when i'm a nice guy, huh?" caleb chuckled darkly, making your eyes widen. suddenly, he lifted you up in his arms and began walking upstairs.
fuck.
"wait, caleb!" you squirmed in his hold, but his grip around you remained stern.
"y'know i don't like it when you butt into things you shouldn't, pipsqueak." he walked up the second flight of stairs that led to the attic. after opening the door, he pushed you inside and quickly closed the door, locking it.
"caleb, what the hell?! let me out! you can't fuckin' do this to me, we're not kids anymore! ugh, let me out!" you banged and kicked on the door, but he wouldn't budge.
soon enough, his footsteps were getting distant.
"caleb? caleb!!"
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
a week has passed since that incident. you were pretty pissed at him when he finally returned and unlocked you from your confinement, ready to pounce on him, yell and slap him.
but all that fury dissipated once you saw his bruised knuckles and disheveled state. caleb wasn't insensitive and to save you the trauma of witnessing three bloodied guys kneeling to you on the floor, he recorded their voices which dripped with pain and remorse as apologies flew out of their mouths like a mantra.
the smile plastered on his face was almost deranged and crazy, but yet without a fail it made your heart leap in your throat.
"so you wear skirts and smell like peaches. so what? that doesn't make you less than anyone else. if anything, it's one of the things i love about you. they can call you whatever they want. i know who you are, and that's all that matters."
his words rang loud and clear in your ears every time you remembered them. you can vividly imagine his eyes, the tenderness they held while his voice softly cured the aches in your heart.
"hey pips, gonna do laundry now. anything else you need for me to throw in?" caleb peeps in his head through the small crack of your door, chocolatey brown locks coming into view. you ushered him to come inside, to which he obeyed.
there you saw him, in all this handsome glory. you pondered quickly, how did he change so quickly?
in the back of your mind, you could still picture caleb to be a scrawny little kid with a high pitched voice; playing as the dragon while you were the princess trying to run away from him in the sandbox.
and then came high school when he got his first job as a restocker at the local grocery store, being required to lift heavy things, so he began to frequently workout at the gym and at home too; insisting that you could be of help by sitting on his back while he did push-ups.
the scrawny squeaky caleb would then transform into a tall, handsome and broad young man. he carried you in his big, beefy arms in the summer heat; one hand full with gorcery bags while the other held you as you sipped on the overpriced fake pink lemonade the girls scouts were sellingâletting him take a few sips from your straw to compensate.
and now here he stood in your room, shirtless and only in a pair of calvin klein boxers; the tag necklace attached with the apple charm hanging on his neck.
"hm, nope. everything should be in my basket. thanks caleb." you smiled with gratitude, pointing to the lavander laundry basket by your door.
"mhm, don't mention it." he hummed before bending down to grab your basket.
caleb made his way down to the basement where the washing machine was. he remembered how you always nagged at him for throwing your clothes with his, how the rough material of his clothes ruined the cute lacey frills of yours.
he rolled his eyes as he could mentally hear your voice whining at him. so, to save him the trouble, he decided to wash his clothes last. caleb began to throw your clothes in, only to find the deep crimson pair of panties that he loved so much in the pile, peeking and tempting him.
the brunette groaned, fingers playing with the soft red laces that decorated the edge of your panties. his imagination ran wild, picturing you in nothing but the thin fabric of the panties that were now crumpled in his large hands.
it was sick and perverted... he knows that it was wrong to do so.
but he couldn't help himselfâholding your panties to his nose, the part where your pussy would've been hugged with, taking a deep inhale. his eyes rolled back, whimpering as he could smell the musky scent of your cunt, his mouth salivating as he could only wish to be able to taste your sweet pussy.
blood rushed down to his cock, making him painfully hard. caleb groaned, tugging the waistband of his boxers down as his dick sprung back to hit his abs.
he grabbed another pair of your dirty panties, this one being a soft blue, and wrapped it around his cock. caleb's mouth gaped open, moaning as he began to stroke his dick, feeling the fabric of your panties rub against his sensitive skin.
"hnghh... fuck, you smell so good, princess." caleb quietly moaned, the hand gasping your panties tightening as he sniffed your panties while shamelessly jerking himself off.
he bit down on his lips, increasing the pace of his hands as beads of precum trickled down his swollen mushroom tip. the vein that ran on the underside of his cock throbbed with adrenaline, making his knees almost buck.
caleb could imagine how your soft pussy was hidden in these same pair of panties, your cute little clit peeking out of your sopping wet folds. did you ever touch yourself through these panties of yours? who do you think about when you touch yourself? was it him?
god, all these questions only made his balls twitch as he could feel himself grow closer to his orgasm.
"ahhh- shit, please, y/n. need to taste you so bad, h-hahh.." he whimpered, tongue lolling out as he began to suck on your panties desperately while trying to chase his high.
with a few more pumps, caleb's cock began to spurt out white, thick wads of hot, sticky cum onto your blue panties. his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath as post-nut clarity was hitting him.
his face rushed with a red tint, embarrassed but not enough to stop. after all, this wasn't his first time.
"hey caleb, have you seen my pink panties? i checked everywhere but couldn't find them. were they in the basket yesterday when you did the laundry? i could've sworn i placed them there."
"nope, didn't see them, pipsqueak. maybe you left them in your locker or somethin'. don't worry, if you need more i could always take you shopping."
caleb had all your bras and panties memorized just like how he memorized the different functions and buttons of aircrafts. he begrudgingly allowed you to pull him into victoria's secret to go shopping for new cute sets, wanting his opinions and of course, needing his card as well.
of course, he didn't mind buying them for you! after all, he'd pluck a pair from your weekly laundry every time and use it to fuck his fist or even keep for himself if he really liked that pair. so, it was only fair to buy you more to compensate.
"yeah, definitely keeping this one." caleb grunts before throwing the crimson red panties in his basket.
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
the spring semester was coming to an end, meaning that caleb would soon graduate. you were so excited to attend his graduation, having your dress readily hung in your closet, noting down on your ipad what kind of flowers you wanted to include in the massive bouquet you were planning to welcome him with and of courseâ
his gift.
caleb always gave a dog kind of guy, so you were thinking of getting a puppy for him. but, of course, things change like always and you still had another few weeks to plan.
the only problem was that getting a hold of caleb nowadays became extremely hard, which might sound weird considering the fact that you two literally live together in the same house.
but it's true.
for the last few weeks, caleb's been buried in books and drowning himself in the strongest concoction of what you could only make out as coffee and redbull. he's been on his grind to study for the final exam, which would determine if he got in the DAA or not. of course, the semester long project, which he worked on with ___ was at its finishing polishes. everything in life was hitting him all at once, college, work and other shit; so catching a glimpse of him was like being able to catch a shooting star.
slim chance.
but of course, you didn't want to bother him and you were proud of him for working so hard towards his dreams. so, naturally, you expected him to crash into your bed and cuddle with you after taking the examânewsflash: you were wrong.
though caleb was nerdy, he was very popular on campus. all the girls wanted a piece of him because he was everything a girl could ever dream of. he's smart, caring, domestic and he's sexy as fuck.
all the guys wanted to be his friends and naturally caleb ended up being invited to a bunch of senior frat parties as the soon-to-be graduates celebrated their achievements. so, you'd only see caleb in the mornings where he's drunk and passed out on the couch or you wouldn't see him at all because he crashed at his friendâs place.
it was late one evening, you stirred in your bed as you woke up from your nap. you tapped your phone screen and saw that it was almost eight. you sat up, the shoulder strap of your nightgown falling off your shoulder, making you groan in annoyance as you fixed it.
feeling parched, you got off your bed and slipped on your house slippers to head down to the kitchen and fix yourself an ice cold glass of water. your ears perked up upon the hearing of deep laughter echoing in the living room, well, multiple voices were voicing these laughs.
as you went down the the stairs, your eyes fell on caleb who was leisurely lounging on the couch with a game controller in his hand, surrounded by three other guys; who you assumed were his new friends or rather frat buddies since he beat his last ones to pulp for you.
"caleb?" you called out, making him stop mid-sentence as he looked up and noticed your familiar figure approaching him.
"oh, pipsqueak, you're home? i didn't even know." caleb chuckled, pausing his game, the sudden acknowledgment of your presence made the other three heads turn to look at you.
"uh, yeah... i was napping." you replied, feeling a little exposed as you didn't know he'd have his friends over and you were still in casual home-wear. you could feel his friends roaming their eyes all over your exposed arms and legs, making you shift uncomfortably.
"woah, didn't know you had such a hot sister, dude." one of them finally spoke up, letting out a low wolf-whistle.
caleb's jaw tightened at that, making him shoot the guy a glare.
"watch your mouth, don't say shit like that to her. and we're not related, we just grew up together." he clarified, nose flaring with irritation.
another one of his friends rolled his eyes, dismissing his words.
"yeah, yeah, same shit. so, sister-not-sister of caleb's, you got a boyfriend?" the guy asked, making your cheeks heat up at the question as you cleared your throat.
"n-no." you stammered, playing with the hem of your nightgown. he stood up, walking over to you with a grin as he took your phone.
"let me give you my number then. let's get to know each other and i'll take you on a nice date, darling." he purred, a hand coming up to touch your arm; only for a vice grip to stop the dirtying hand from laying a finger on you.
"i swear i'll kill you." caleb's violet orbs bored holes in his friend's skull, possessively pushing you behind him. his friend scoffed, ripping his hand away from the tight grip.
"chill, dude. you're acting like i was asking her to fuck me." he joked, but caleb's face contorted into a scowl.
"say one more fuckin' word and i swear on everything i'll beat the shit out of you. you're really pissing me off." caleb swore under his breath, his other friend that was calmly watching everything unfold decided to intervene.
"okay, okay, everyone relax. we should head home, it's getting late. uh, caleb, i'll text you the address for the party being held this weekendâdon't miss it, man! oh, also, let me invite your... er, friend, in case she wants to attend." the other guy spoke up, glancing at you. but, before you could even get a word inâ
"she won't be coming." caleb strictly answered for you, making your eyebrows furrow.
"caleb!" you frowned, only for him to shoot a glare down at you. his friend thinned his lips, deciding not to push further.
"alright then. see you later, man." caleb's friends finally packed their stuff and left.
you angrily shoved caleb onto the couch, towering over him to have some kind of intimidation factor towards you; but of course, you were nothing compared to a six-foot something muscle pig like him.
nonetheless, he let you.
you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. however, caleb was more focused on how your tits were now squished because of your arms; granting him the sight of the beautiful soft curves of the supple flesh. he licked his dry lips, imagining how they'd feel in his hands. you failed to noticed his ogling from how pissed you were, preparing to lash out at him.
"why can't i go to the party? you're gonna be there, so i don't see what's the issue." you huffed out.
"it's a frat party, pipsqueak. they're not meant for you." he dismissed your frustration like it was nothing, but his answer only riled you up more.
"the hell you mean?! i'm an adult, you think i can't handle a fuckin' frat party? i'm gonna go, whether you like it or not." you stubbornly fought back with equal amounts of venom in your words.
"like hell you would, i'd like to see you try. those parties are full of drunk guys dancing on girls who shake ass for some temporary validation, the house reeks of alcohol and sex. you're none of that! you never even drank in your life or had your first kiss." caleb lectured, his eyes were stern and unwavering, not harboring any leeway to be convinced otherwise by you.
"t-that's not true!" you helplessly tried to lie, but of course, it didn't fly by him. he let out a heavy sigh before planting his hands on your hips, pulling you closer between his legs.
"listen, pips. y'know i care a lot about you, right? you saw how those guys were just a few minutes back. it took every inch of self-control i had to not just plummet my fist in his face. i don't want those sick perverts to look at you like you're a piece of meat. you're more safer home than anywhere else, if you wanna drink and party so bad, a two person party right here sounds like a pretty solid idea." he looks up at you with a gentle smile etched onto his lips, offering such a lame idea, making you scoff as you shove his hands away.
"it's always what you want, never what i want! ugh, you're so fucking annoying, caleb! i don't wanna stay as some boring loser forever and you're making it worse." you seethed with anger and fury, making his smile drop as his face darkened at your words.
"i know what's best for you, y/n. you are not going to that party and that's final. don't make me lock you up in the attic again, 'cause i will if i have to." caleb threatened, making you scoff in disbelief.
"unbelievable." you shook your head, your mouth opened once more to give him a piece of your mind; but the doorbell rang.
you groaned in annoyance, trudging to the front door as you wondered who the hell showed up to your place this late. you opened the door and you were shocked to see the girl in caleb's mechanics class.
"ah, sorry! is caleb home? i texted him earlier but it seems like he didn't see it." ___ nervously laughed, her sudden appearence made your eye twitch.
"why." you blurted out, no hint of welcome in your voice.
after noticing your longer-than-usual time away, caleb decided to check who was at the door. his eyes widened when he saw ___ outside.
"oh shit, i'm so sorry. i just saw your text, i had some friends over earlier, so i didn't get a chance to see it. i didn't know you wanted to do the finishing touches tonight." caleb rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty smile plastered on his face, but the girl quickly dismissed his apologies.
"no, no, don't worry! if you want, we could still finish it up tonight. it shouldn't take long." she offered him a smile, making your dig your nails in your palms to contain yourself from clawing at her.
"you sure? it's pretty late." his eyes were washed with concern, making you want to puke at how he... cared for her.
"yeah, totally! i'll wait for you here." she assured him, making caleb quickly nod as he ran up to his room to change.
the atmosphere suddenly became awkward, with you throwing discreet daggers at the girl while she played footsies with herself.
"so... i heard you both decided to make a 3D-solar airplane model. that's pretty complex." you chimed in a small conversation starter, your sudden voice made her jolt.
"yep, the idea was mine but caleb's the main head behind the mechanics. the guy is so damn smart, really! it's honestly been so fun working with him, he's so reliable." she gawked at him, making you clench your jaw.
"i see, you must really be fond of him, huh?" you shot her a fake smile, but your words made her let out a small giggle.
"we're just friends, he's a great guy though, which i'm sure you know." she smiles.
"uh-huh... so, you got a boyfriend?" you pried deeper, wanting to know what exactly her motives were.
"nope, single as a pringle." she answered, the cringey joke nearly made you vomit a bit in your mouth.
an awkward silence falls between you, and the girl seems to sense the tension. she fidgets, glancing back and forth between you and the staircase.
"you two seemed to have gotten pretty close over the course of this... project." you emphasized as your eyes darkened, making her clear her throat.
"oh, yeah, definitely! we do a bunch of things after working on our model. we've been working on the project, of course, but we also watch movies, cook together, and just chat about random stuff. it's been pretty fun!" the girl seems oblivious to the shift in your demeanor, and continues to chat cheerfully.
"c-cook together?!" you choked on your words, eyes going wide.
"yeah! he makes the best omurice, like it's seriously delicious. he's really talented in the kitchen." the girl nods, her expression enthusiastic.
your heart sinks at her words. cooking has always been your thing with caleb, something special and intimate between you two. hearing that he has cooked for someone else, and that she raves about his skills, feels like a knife twisting in your chest.
the girl chatters on, but her words fade into background noise as your mind races. the jealousy and insecurity welling up inside you is almost too much to bear.
"you seem very... doted on him. do you like him?" your throat went dry as you asked the big question, heart hammering against your chest.
the girl pauses, her expression softening as she smiles bashfully.
"well, i mean... yeah, i do kinda like him. i've had a bit of a crush on him for a while, to be honest. he's just so nice and handsome, plus he's really smart and talented, too." she continued to shower him in compliments, eyes dreamily glancing in the distance as she spewed out her thoughts.
before you could interrogate further, you could hear caleb's heavy footsteps descending down the stairs, making you zip your lips.
"okay, reporting for duty. let's go and finish that sucker real quick." caleb announced, making the girl laugh at his silly words; but for some odd reason his stupid joke now tasted bitter in your mouth.
you were quiet, too quiet; which was loud enough for him to notice. caleb walked towards you, ruffling your hair.
"gonna be back in a few, pips. don't miss me too much." he teases with a smile, yet you give nothing back to him; watching him leave with her before closing the door behind him.
later that night, out of pure spite, you decided that it was time for a change. you were angry at that stupid show-offing bitch, caleb, yourself and the whole world itself.
who the hell was praying on your downfall?
whatever, you were tired of all this bullshit, feeling your frontal lobe developing. you surfed the internet for a recipe to follow and began to cook.
it can't be that hard, can it?
god, were you so wrong.
caleb pauses in the kitchen doorway, taking in the sight of you in the kitchen, your phone on the counter next to a messy array of ingredients. concern etched across his face as he looks at the mess.
"hey... what are you doing, pips?" he asks.
"making myself food." you stated the obvious, rolling your eyes at his stupid question.
"and that involves making the kitchen look like a war zone?" he quirks an eyebrow, his eyes flickering from you to the ingredients strewn across the counter.
"shut up." you grumble, already overstimulated by your mess and the fact that what you were currently stirring in your pot looked like someone just took a massive shit in it.
you could fear your hunger slowly disappearing.
"wow, someone's feisty tonight." caleb takes a step closer, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. he can tell you're in a bad mood, and he's not surprised by your snappish response.
you ignore him, trying to focus on how you can fix your dinner.
he leans back against the counter, watching you with growing curiosity. something tells him that this is more than just a bad mood, that something else is bothering you.
"okay, spill it. what's going on? you've been ignoring me since i got home, and now you're trying to burn the kitchen down with whatever the hell you're making." his tone grew impatient, giving you a sharp look.
"you think my world revolves around you? well, newsflash, assholeâit doesn't! now shut the fuck up 'cause you're pissing me off and my food is gonna burn." you angrily spat back, crashing out completely as you just wanted him to leave you alone.
"excuse me? i'm literally just trying to talk to you, and this is the response i get? and what exactly is this 'food' you're trying to make anyway? it looks like a science experiment gone wrong." he's taken aback by your harsh tone, but he doesn't back down. his eyes darken, his own temper rising.
"it's the curry for omurice, it's just not done yet!" you defended your culinary work.
"puhlease, i doubt you'll make anything edible at this rate, that curry's been done. you barely know how to boil water, let alone make a proper omurice." caleb snickers, he knows all too well that you're not exactly a natural in the kitchen.
"i can boil water, you fucking jerk!" you snapped, spoon dropping out of your hand as you panicked and tried to grab it, only for your hand to hit the scorching hot metal of the pot.
"fuck." you yelped in pain.
"damn it, y/n. you just burned yourself! let me see your hand." his expression immediately shifts to alarm, and without a second thought he rushes to your side.
you shimmy away from him, as if he had infectious cooties or something, making him frown. caleb felt you push him away, seeing you wince in pain made his heart ache, but he was annoyed with how you were acting-
like a fucking child.
"i'm fine." you breathed out, turning on the sink to run your hand under some cold water, biting your lip to hold back a scream itching to rip out of your throat.
"for fucks sake, would you just let me see? you're being ridiculous." caleb grabbed your hand gently, lifting it to inspect the burn. it's not too serious, but it still looked painful.
"let go of me!" you grit your teeth, pulling away your hand.
"god, you're so damn stubborn. why won't you just let me help you? what is your problem?" he reluctantly lets go, but his irritation and concern continued to grow at your behavior.
"i don't need your help! i don't need your concern! i don't need your stupid cooking! i don't need your money! i don't need you, caleb!" you bellowed, eyes full of anguish as you watched his jaw drop at your outburst.
he's stunned by your words, his heart clenching at the venom in your voice. he'd been worried this was about him, but hearing the harsh words coming from your lips still feels like a punch to the gut.
"what the hell is that supposed to mean? you don't need me? after all this time?" he let's out a bitter laugh in disbelief, shaking his head.
"so, that's it? after everything we've been through, everything i've done for you... you don't need me, huh? is that what you're saying? am i just some useless piece of trash to you?" he paces the kitchen, his hands running through his hair in frustration. he's angry, hurt, and confused all at once.
"you know what, since you spelled it out so perfectly, yeah. after how you toyed around with me and threw me away like nothing, hell fucking yeah!" you yelled at him, balling your fists to the side to ground your feelings, to dig your nails in your palms for some kind of twisted comfort to prevent the tears in your eyes from pouring out.
"is that what you think? you think i discarded you like some toy? god, if anything, it's been the opposite. i've been doing everything i can to support you, to make you happy. and this is the thanks i get? you're acting like a prissy, spoiled, ungrateful brat!" he stops in his tracks, staring at you in disbelief.
"the fuck did you just call me?" you voice was shaky, but your eyes flickered with hurt and fury.
"you heard me. you're acting like a damn brat! you're throwing a tantrum because i'm trying to help you. because i care about you! because i love you!" caleb steps closer, his gaze hardening. he's sick of your attitude, sick of your ungratefulness.
"spare me the bullshit, caleb. now i know how you really feel about me, and i was really fucking dumb to believe you. tch, you're just like everyone else." you scoffed, heart cracking with every advancement of this pitiful and painful conversation that you'd never imagine would come to existence.
"like everyone else? what the hell is that supposed to mean? you think i'm some sort of heartless monster just because i'm busy with getting my life together? because i have responsibilities? do you have any idea the stress i've been under lately? you've been acting as if the world revolves around you!" he was beyond pissed at this point, tone rising with every word.
"oh yeah? but you're not busy enough to make that bitch omurice at her place? not busy enough to watch movies with her? not busy enough to spend time with her while i'm home alone waiting for you, fucking asshole?!" you screamed at his face, your head throbbing as a painful migraine brewed inside.
his eyes widen in surprise, and for a brief moment, he's speechless. it all makes sense now.
"is that what this is about? seriously, y/n, are you hearing yourself? after the countless amount of times i explicitly told you that me and her have nothing between us! that i don't give two fucks about her! are you that jealous?" he crosses his arms over his chest, unable to fathom the situation.
all because of something so stupid.
"jealous? don't be delusional. go fuck her for all i care. i'm not your girlfriend or wife." you snarled.
"you're trying to push me away because of some petty jealousy? are you seriously that insecure?" he's furious now, his eyes blazing with anger. he steps closer, crowding your personal space.
"yeah, i am. so fucking leave me alone, bitch." you swallowed harshly, emphasizing the last word before walking out of the kitchen.
you halted your steps, turning your head to the side.
"i'll clean the kitchen later, i'm gonna order takeout. don't worry, i removed your card from my phone, i work now." you cleared your throat.
you've been working for the past month actually, but you never had the chance to even tell him about it because he's barely home.
"you got a job? why didn't you tell me? and why did you need to delete my card? i don't mind taking care of you, y'know that." caleb feels his anger start to cool, replaced by disbelief and hurt.
you no longer felt like you could stay a minute more in the kitchen, already feeling the waterworks activate in your eyes, ignoring his words as you stormed out of the kitchen to head up to your room.
he stands there, staring after you, feeling helpless and frustrated. he wants to follow you, to talk some sense into you, but he knows you need time to cool off. he lets out a deep sigh, leaning back against the counter as a heavy weight settles in his chest.
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
the week passes by slowly, the tension palpable between you two. caleb tried to talk to you, to bridge the gap, but you're still stubbornly ignoring him. his heart hurts with every failed attempt, the distance between you feeling greater than ever.
he's on the edge, his mind constantly wandering to you. caleb misses you, he misses just being able to look at you and talk to you.
it was a friday night and you just got back from your closing shift, exhuasted as you plopped down on the couch. you still had a few assignments left to do, which were unfortunately due tonight.
an hour later, caleb enters the house, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion as well. his eyes immediately fall on you, sitting on the couch, head bent over a book.
"hey... how was work?" caleb asked softly, approaching you cautiously.
you ignored him, continuing to scribble notes in your notebook.
"pipsqueak, come on. i'm trying here. can't you at least look at me?" he groaned, frowning at your lack of response, but doesn't give up.
however, you continue to mind your own business, not paying him any mind.
"y'know, this silent treatment is getting old real fast. we need to talk." he lets out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms.
he takes a seat on the chair across from the couch. he can see the tension in your body, the way you refuse to acknowledge him. it's driving him crazy.
"how long are you going to keep acting like a petulant child? you can't just ignore me forever." caleb scoffed, glaring at you.
he watched you scribble something on a blank sheet of notebook paper before tearing it out, crumpling and throwing it right at his face; before it fell on his lap.
"thanks." he sarcastically grumbled, unraveling the crumpled ball before reading what you wrote.
i'll try to.
his jaw tightened at your stubbornness. you got up from your seat, heading to the staircase to go up to your room. he's stunned speechless for a moment, staring at the crumpled paper. a wave of anger and hurt washes over him. he stands up, following after you.
enough is enough.
"you can't be serious. you're just going to shut me out like i'm nothing to you? y/n!" he catches up to you, grabbing your arm lightly to stop you from entering your room.
"let go, caleb." you spoke through gritted teeth.
he hesitates for a moment, his grip on your arm loosen slightly. he can see the pain in your eyes, the wall you've put up between you. it hurts him more than any physical pain he's ever felt.
you snatched away your arm before opening the door to your bedroom, slamming it shut right in his face.
caleb's shoulders slump, a frustrated sigh leaving his chapped lips as his fist rests on your door, not having the strength to knock and fight any further. initially he was planning to cancel the invite to the frat party taking place tonight, but after the constant failures of trying to mend his friendship with you, he needed to blow off some steam.
so, with a resigned look, he left your door and headed into his room to shower and get ready. as you heard his footsteps slowly disappearing, you slid down the door as your knees gave out, burying your face in your hands as you cried.
you've never felt this distraught in your life and you couldn't help but blame yourself. of course, it was always you who created trouble and chaos.
caleb was never obligated to be yours, you had no rights to snap at him for choosing someone else over you.
he's not yours.
but, god did it hurt whenever you remembered that. you wanted him to be yours so bad, it was suffocating. you wanted him to only think about you, laugh with you, spend every moment of this fucked up life... just with you.
you know it was wrong to think of him like this, after all, caleb's your best friend; the closest person you have left to call family.
these feelings that you tried so hard to bury years ago keep haunting you and come back stronger. it scares you because even after ruining so many things, you don't want to say something stupid and destroy everything you've built up till now.
just by saying those three words that you always say to him... but now with different meanings.
after a while, you heard caleb's bedroom door open before closing as you could hear his heavy footstep descending down the stairs. you suddenly remembered that today was the night of the frat party, so he was leaving to attend.
you fished out your phone from your purse, ringing your friend's facetime as you patiently waited for her to pick up.
"hey girl, why the sad face?" your friend on the other line asked, face washed with concern, noticing your tear-streaked face and puffy eyes.
"caleb." was the only thing you could mutter out before your lips quivered, eyes welling with tears again.
"oh sweetie, him again? ya gotta be stronger than that, y/n. we can't let these stupid boys dictate our lives, y'know? did you hear about the big senior frat going on tonight?" she asked, making you sigh.
"yeah, caleb just left a few minutes ago to attend. i was invited too, but caleb strictly told me no." you frowned as you recalled the memory. your friend scoffed, rolling her eyes as she heard your words.
"girl, fuck that asshole. you're a grown ass woman, you can go to a damn frat if you wanna. tell you what, the party's just beginning and the night is still young. how about i pick you up and we both go?" she suggested, a playful grin dancing on her lips.
your eyes widened, the thought of rebelling against caleb's words struck a little nerve in you, but you couldn't ignore the rush of adrenaline weirdly surging in you.
this would be your first time going against his words.
this was the proof of your change that you didn't need him to make all the decisions for you.
he didn't know you better than yourself.
fuck caleb, you can handle a damn frat party!
"okay, give me an hour." you smiled, making your friend giggle as she nodded in agreement and you both hung up a few seconds later.
that being said, you hopped in the shower to wash off all of today's sweat and gunk from working hard; leaving the bathroom smelling sweet and peachy.
you dug into your closet, reaching for your usual style of clothes; a skirt and a simple blouse. but, your hand stopped midway from pulling them out.
you remembered how people called you a ditzy bimbo, making fun of your skirts and cute blouses. they poked fun at you for wearing bows in your hair.
and caleb thinks that you're not the type that's meant to attend these frat parties.
a wave of anger washed over you, angrily jumbling that skirt and blouse back into your closet.
instead, you decided to take a more... risque option.
you pulled out a pair of low-rise deniem shorts that were definitely too short, keeping them unbuttoned as the black lace of your panties peaked out. for your top, you opted for a cropped cheetah print backless halter top that had a deep v-neck; the matching tag necklace you and caleb had hung right above your sternum.
you skipped your usual soft makeup, opting for a more simple yet alluring look; accentuating your features. without a second thought, you threw the bow on your dresser behind your back as it landed on your bed, you didn't need it tonight. you sprayed on some perfume and then slipped on a pair of black heels.
shortly after some last minute finishing touches, your friend came to pick you up.
"is this... the same y/n i talked to an hour ago. sweetie, you look sexy." she gawked at you, watching you giggle as you hopped into the passanger seat next to her.
"frat approved?" you asked cheekily, making your friend smirk.
"without a doubt."
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
you pushed the unlocked front door open, immediately being welcomed with the deafening volume of music blaring into your ears. it was dark, flashes of neon lights were making your eyes trip as you walked inside. the foul scent of alcohol hit your nose, making your stomach churn as you could vividly remember begging caleb to change your route home when you both walked home from high school; just to avoid passing by the bar.
you lost sight of your friend, now being pushed amongst the crowd of drunk college graduates dancing and slurring the song lyrics. you swallowed harshly, trying to find a pocket to escape the dance floor; only to have your arm be pulled back.
your eyes widened as a gasp left your lips, turning around to see that it was one of caleb's friends; the guy who offered you his number.
"i see you didn't listen to your big bro caleb, huh? oooo~, he's gonna be mad when he finds out his sweet, innocent little girl is here, darling." obviously drunk, the guy snickered. you grimaced, shoving his hand away as you backed up, trying to create some distance.
"you think caleb's words are set in stone? i don't give two fucks about him, i'm my own person." you glared at the guy, words spitting out venom.
the guy's eyes glinted with amusement.
"oh? so the kitten finally found her voice. let me treat you to a drink to congratulate you." he smirked, pushing the red cup containing god knows what, towards you.
"i'm not drinkin' that shit, you could've spiked it." you scoffed, crossing your arms.
"guess you're not that brainless after all, darling. see ya around." the guy chuckled, shrugging before taking a sip of the drink instead, walking away.
you grumbled under your breath, already feeling like you stuck out like a sore thumb. you made your way to the table where all the liquor was spread out, deciding to make yourself one instead. you weren't dumb enough to accept a drink from just anyone.
after successfully (kinda) making a cup of some sort of concoction, your brought the rim of the red cup up to your glossy lips; the smell of the mixed liquor contents already making you wanna gag.
you took a deep breath, closing your eyes before taking a few big gulps of your drink. your throat burned, stomach threatening to retch as you could feel bile rush up your esophagus. your eyes screwed shut, trying to keep everything inside as you breathed heavily.
"eugh..." your body shivered.
you tried to take a few more sips, but you could see your body clearly rejecting it. so, you called quits, deciding to throw it away.
you walked towards the kitchen, sighing in defeat, concluding that maybe you really weren't meant for a life like this.
caleb was right.
your eyes were trained to the floor, not realizing who was in front of you as you bumped into someone's hard, muscular back.
"ow... sorry." you quickly apologized, but your eyes would soon widen in horror as your jaw dropped when the person turned around.
"the hell are you doin' here, y/n?" violet eyes pierced into you, caleb's taller frame towering over you as his voice was gravely.
"fuck.." you gulped, hand unknowingly squeezing at the plastic cup in your hand, making it creak.
his eyes dropped to your hands, eyebrows pinching in both irritation and concern. caleb snatched the cup out of your grasp, bringing it to his nose to take a few sniffs.
"are you fucking serious right now? who gave this to you? how much did you drink?" caleb bombarded you with questions, seething with anger, making your heart pound in your chest.
"none of your business, now give it back!" you used whatever remaining bits of courage you had in yourself to retort back to his interrogation; hands reaching for your cup, only to have him dodge your advances.
"god, are you that dumb, y/n? you never drank in your life and i'm asking you about what the hell you just put in your body! and the hell are you wearing?! i can see your fuckin' panties!" caleb's eyes darkened, speaking through gritted teeth as he stepped closer; amethyst eyes roamed all over your figure, making your knees turn into jelly.
"so? it's not like i'm walking around naked. also, i made that drink, so it's not spiked or somethin'." you huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest.
"yeah, no. we're going home." caleb scoffed, throwing your cup in the garbage before grabbing your wrist, about to drag you out of the kitchen; but you planted your heels firmly on the ground, tugging your hand back.
"no. if you wanna go home, then go by yourself. i came with my friend and i'm not leaving her, besides, the party just started." you shot him a sharp glare, your voice holding a slight tremble but you remained firm. caleb's face fell, looking at you with disbelief and exasperation.
"fuck your friend, we're going home. NOW." he sternly dismissed your words, bending down before wrapping his arm around your waist; swiftly lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.
"caleb, put me down! you can't do this!" you kick your feet in the air, but he remains unfazed, walking through the sea of people and towards the door.
"oh yeah i can, watch me. you're in a shit ton of trouble, pipsqueak. just wait till we get home."
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
the ride home was silent and as soon as caleb's car stopped in front of your house, you angrily got out and unlocked the door; not wanting to spend a second more with him as he parked.
you kicked off your heels and ran upstairs to your room, slamming the door shut as you sat on your bed. not shortly after, caleb barged into your room, furious.
"the hell were you thinking?! you like pissing me off? i told you to stay home, didn't i?!" caleb yelled at you, making your blood boil.
"who the fuck do you think you are? we're not even actual family, stop trying act like you're my brother or somethin'! you don't get to tell me what to do!" you yelled back, grabbing your pillow before throwing it at him, trying to relieve your pent-up anger somehow.
however, caleb swiftly dodged your attack, walking closer to the edge of your bed where you were seated.
"repeat that, i dare you, fuckin' brat. who am i? i'm the one who's been dealing with your shit for all these years, giving you everything that you could possibly want; loving and caring for you. while you... while you drive me to the brink of insanity." his voice trembles, a shaky exhale leaving his throat as he reaches out to grab your chin; lifting your head up to force your eyes to meet his.
his gaze hardened when he saw the resentment in your eyes, but he knew that deep down you were trying to conceal yourself, to appear strong against him. caleb knew you like the back of his hand, you were throwing one of your tantrums again.
but, that's okay. if you wanted to be a brat, he has no other choice but to tame you.
caleb gently pushed your head backwards, making you fall back onto the bed. his larger frame hovered above your body, caging you between his arms as his necklace dangled above you. from this angle, you couldn't help but feel so... small and weak.
just like helpless prey.
you should be pushing him off, slapping him and cursing his entire existence. but, fuck... why did the familiar heat in your stomach begin to settle as your eyes shamelessly drank in the sight of his beefy bare biceps pining you below him. caleb's scent was surrounding you, the mix of apple cinnamon and cologne intoxicated your senses; making you wonder if it intensified because of the pheremones in the air.
whatever the fuck it was, you felt insanely horny.
"i was never like a brother to you, y/n. can't you see how badly i want you? how desperately my body craves for yours? are you that dense? i fuck my fist every night to the thought of you, how the fuck can i see you as family?" he speaks in a husky voice, body pressing down as you could feel the hard tent between his legs rub against the soft skin of your thighs.
"c-caleb.." you meekly call out to him, making him snap a look at you.
"what." he spat out, making the words die on your tongue as you zipped your lips.
caleb scoffed, leaning his head down to the crook of your neck, pressing soft kissing upwards to your jaw. you shuddered at the sudden feeling of his lips on your skin, making your breath hitch.
"since when did you wear shit like this, hm? you like flaunting this pretty ass of yours? showing off these cute tits?" caleb's voice was dire, his hand creeping under your shirt, caressing your sides.
"n-no.." you reply, feeling the bridge of his nose nuzzle in the crook of your neck; pressing open mouth kisses on your skin as you squirmed below him.
"then why'd you wear it? y'know i hate it when other guys look at you, when they go for what's mine." he sneered, tone possessive as he pulled away, looking at you with sharp eyes.
"wanted your attention... i-i wanted you to notice me." you stammered, hands reaching forwards to cup his face as you gazed into his violet eyes. he froze, admiring how beautiful you looked beneath him; it felt like he was dreaming.
"yeah? well, you got it." and without another word, he crashed his lips onto yours; pulling you into a searing kiss.
the kiss was needy, touch-starved and hungry. caleb moaned into your mouth, tongue licking at your bottom lip to beg for permission. a whimper flew out of your mouth as you felt his hips grind down between your legs, right on your clothed cunt as the friction of his hard cock felt so so good.
caleb took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, intertwining with your wet muscle as he suckled on it. he drank in your whimpers and moans, tasting every inch of your mouth. drool began to trickle down the corner of your mouth, the kiss being super messy as it was full of salive and teeth clashing. you never expected your first kiss to be this intense.
you used your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as you needed to feel him, smell him and just consume him whole.
it wasn't enough.
"please, caleb... i-i feel so h-hot. i need you now." you pleaded with a sultry voice and it took every single fiber of self-control within caleb's whole existence to just not blow his load in his pants.
"yeah? you need a lot of things from me, don't ya?" caleb snickers, pulling back as he now sat on your bed, shortly before tugging you towards him. now you were situated between his legs, back pressed against his warm chest.
"i-i'm sorry, caleb!" you breathed out an apology, but your futile attempt only amused him as he smirked.
"no, no, no. that's not gonna work on me tonight, pretty girl. you used up all your chances for forgiveness. and as for if youâll get more⌠well that depends on how you behave." caleb whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss on the shell of your ear before giving it a playful bite.
"i'll behave, promise." you pouted, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with bambi eyes, long mascara lashes batting.
caleb looked down at you with a calculated gaze, searching your eyes for any sign of truthfulness. he hums, his fingers tracing over your skin, their path slow and steady. there's a hint of tension in his body as he speaks, his voice rough and quiet.
"after that little stunt you pulled on me, i have a hard time believing you, pips. i think i need to teach you how to be more... appreciative and obedient, no?" his long, thick fingers squished your soft cheeks together; firmly holding you in place before pressing a hard smooch on your pouted lips that were now swollen from the previous sucking and biting.
caleb's other hand wandered south, cupping one of your perky tits as he fondled the supple fat through your barely-covering top. you moaned into his mouth, feeling the pad of his thumb brush against your pebbled nipple.
you could feel his lips curl from how responsive and sensitive your body was from his simple actions. caleb decided to toy with you for just a bit more. taking the tip of his index finger, he circled the swollen bud, making you shudder as your eyebrows pinched together.
"hnghh... caleb.." you desperately moaned against his lips, feeling him pinch your nipple through your top; teeth sinking on your shoulder as your eyes screwed shut.
"wearing such skimpy clothes, havin' your panties showing and wearing no bra... you're bold; daring even, i'll give ya that." he spoke huskily, trailing kisses to the back of your shoulder, before guiding his lips to the expanse of your back.
a loud gasp left your lips as you felt the tip of his tongue drag up your spine. caleb continued to press open-mouth kisses afterwards, nibbling down on your shoulder blades.
his keen eyes fell on the small knot tied behind your neck, sneaky fingers coming up to pull the string as it unraveled. your eyes widened as you felt the top part of your blouse loosen, his hands grabbing it to pull it down, making your tits spill out.
"fuck... beautiful. so damn beautiful, god.." caleb groaned, whispering honeyed words in your ears as he kissed your temple. he ogled at the sight, wondering for years how your boobs looked cupped behind your bra.
he's been jerking off to the perverted thought ever since he learned how to masturbate.
his large palms wasted no time in pawing and groping at the swell of your tits, feeling the warm fatty mounds of flesh beneath his callouses. you squeezed your thighs shut, biting down on your bottom lip as you felt his index finger and thumb toy with your hardened nipples, tugging at them.
caleb craned his head forwards, hand full of tit before latching his lips on one of your nipples. a whiny mewl left your mouth, feeling his tongue circling the sensitive bud before the tip of his wet muscle flicked at it.
"ahh, caleb! feels so g-good, hmm.." you breathed out, your hand going behind his head to scratch at the bottom of his scalp.
you nuzzled your face in his neck, pressing gentle kisses at his skin and trailed them up to behind his ears; and he could hear your soft uneven breathing as he continued to suckle and bite at your tits. his chocolatey brown lock tickled your nose as he continued his ministrations.
with a lewd 'pop', he released your nipple as a string of saliva connected his lips to your bud.
"lift your hips for me, princess." caleb commanded, your brain no longer located in your head but now in your pussy as you obeyed. with a swift motion, he grabbed the waistband of your deniem shorts and pulled them off; throwing it somewhere on the floor.
he leans down and kisses the side of your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin, a small possessive noise escaping him. his fingers find the sensitive skin of your hip, his touch firm, but gentle as he cups your hip, thumb tracing over the bone there.
his hand caressed your plush thighs, making your heart beat faster as his fingers inched higher to your achy cunt. caleb noticed how you pressed your legs just a bit tighter, a murky chuckle echoed in your ear.
"ah, so the problem is here." caleb pried your legs open with ease, a hand reaching down in between to cup your needy cunt. you leaned back into him, whining as you felt him trace your slit with a lithe finger.
"stop teasin' me, caleb." you glared at him, but that only sparked a flash of amusement and irritation within him.
"think i'm gonna give you whatever you want, brat? quiet, i need to make sure my sweet girl hasn't been interested in other men except for me." his voice dropped an octave lower, now tracing the laces on your black panties before digging his hands inside.
your jaw dropped as a soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his middle and index finger spread your slick covered folds open.
"you're dripping, baby. all for me?" he asked with a teasing voice, making you nod.
"only for you." you replied, making him smile in satisfaction.
"good, you passed the first part." caleb ran his finger between your sopping lips, the tip of his finger catching your swollen clit each time. you sighed in bliss as you felt him rub your sensitive bundle of nerves as he stroked your clit at a leisurely pace.
"f-fuck, oh caleb!" you cried out his name, your hand dragging up and down his meaty bicep.
"what a cute little pussy ya got, pips. she's gotten ten times more wetter after i played with her for a bit." he whispered dirtily, but his words made you clench on nothing as it sent heat straight down south.
"you touch yourself?" caleb asked, his fingers continuing to rub your pussy while his other hand busied itself with massaging your tits.
you shamelessly nodded, but your response left him frowning as you felt a sharp impact on your wet cunt.
"c'mon, you're a big girl, no? use your words, y/n." he snarks, pinching your clit.
"y-yes!" you cried out in pleasure.
"good girl, wanna hear your voice, 'kay? who do you touch yourself to?" he continued to interrogate you, making your cheeks heat up as you felt like a mouse being caught by the big, scary cat.
"you.." you whispered.
"louder." he strictly barked, slapping your pussy again as you yelped from the pain mixed with pleasure.
"you! you, caleb!" you groaned, feeling his finger drag between your dripping folds in a painfully slow pace.
"oh? tell me more." caleb pressed on, making you huff in annoyance as you knew that this was his way of punishing you. to embarrass you after you ignored him for the whole week.
oh, he was gonna make you talk to him now.
"no, it's too embarrassing." you shook your head, making him scoff.
"you don't wanna talk? fine, i guess i'll just leave." he suddenly threatened, hands attempting to pull away from your pussy, but you were quick to grab his wrist and clamp your thighs shut; locking his hand in place.
"no! fine, fine, i'll tell you! ughhh.." you grumbled, bracing yourself to let go every bit of dignity you had inside you.
"mhm, go on. i'm listening." caleb smiled at your compliance, fingers resuming their work on rubbing circles on your clit to stimulate the bud.
"after you came back from the gym and took a shower, i-i went to your room to ask you for some help on my homework. your bathroom door was open and i saw your soaking wet body, a small towel wrapped around your waist. your back is so broad and muscular, i wouldn't help but wonder how it'd look with my nail marks." you admitted, making his eyes widen.
"you peeked in on me and touched yourself? what a naughty girl." he smirked, voice harboring a faux accusatory tone, when in reality his cock just throbbed at your confession.
you were just as perverted as him.
"h-hahh.. sorry, i d-didn't mean to!" you apologized innocently.
"lying to me won't help you, pips. ever had a finger in here?" his finger pressed against your hole, making your breath catch in your throat.
"yeah." you weakly answered, hearing him hum as he prodded at the tight opening, making you wince.
"yeah? she's so tight." caleb muttered, plunging in a thick digit as a choked moan ripped out of your throat from the sudden stretch. he grunted, feeling your wet, velvety walls clamp down on his finger.
you've fingered yourself a few times, but your fingers were so small and slim compared to caleb's long and thick ones. he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your hole to loosen you up, your eyes rolled back from the pleasure he was providing you with.
"ahhh~! need more, caleb." you heaved a sigh, face flushed as your lips were now glossy with spit from how much you licked them.
"eager are we?" caleb teased with a wicked grin, complying as he pushed in a second finger, making you gasp as your thighs instinctively closed.
"tch, don't be a brat." he growled, an almost bruising grip on your thighs as he peeled them back open.
in spite, he sped up the movement of his fingers that were now fucking into you. the thick digits scissored inside your hole at an unforgiving pace, grazing your cervix as you'd never even dream of your fingers caressing that sweet spot.
your juices gushed down your inner thighs, coating his fingers with a sheen layer as your folds were now sticky. his fingers continued to rub your walls deliciously, moans and whimpers flying out of your mouth mixed with whiny calls of his name; sounding like music to his ears.
suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, the tip of his middle finger drawing languid, purposeful circles on your twitching clit. your nose flared in frustration, pouting as you glared at him.
"caleb!" your voice was between a moan and a bellowed cry.
"good girls get what they want. c'mon, pips, ask nicely and maybe... just maybe i'll give you what you want." he egged further, making your pupils blow wide open.
he wanted you to beg?
"n-no! i'm not beggin' you." you argued stubbornly.
"is that so? then have fun finishing yourself off." he lightly pushed you off, making you groan in annoyance.
"okay, okay! sorry, pleaseâgod, please caleb. make me cum, please?" you begged, giving him the most nastiest and fuckable looking puppy eyes you could muster.
and it worked like a damn charm.
"see? that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he pressed a chaste kiss on your head before delving his fingers back into your achy cunt. you felt him sink his fingers deeper into you, making your mouth gape open as you used your hand to pull his face towards youâsloppily kissing him.
he's everywhere, his touch all-consuming, his body pressed against yours, his desire for you an almost tangible thing.
he swallowed your moans as you began to rock your hips forwards, fucking yourself on his hand; finger-fucking your dripping hole relentlessly. the obscene sounds your wet cunt produced was pornographic, the squelching noises of his slick covered fingers plunging in and out of your hole was nasty and hot.
caleb feels your walls pulsate around him, clenching as your thighs begin to quiver to indicate your incoming orgasm. your pussy drooling on his fingers made him eager to slip them out just to lick for a quick taste, but he wasn't that mean to ruin your orgasm for a second time.
the familiar warm, burning sensation now welcomed your lower stomach. you wriggled in his hold, feet digging into the sheets as your hand came down to grab at his wrist.
"w-wait! slow down, it's too much!" you breathed out, feeling like you were at the edge.
caleb rolled his eyes, not paying mind to your pleas as he continued to finger you through your orgasm. his free hand came down to press against your lower stomach, making your eyes widen as the pressure increased while his fingers plunged deeper in and out of your leaking hole, prodding at your cervix with each deep push.
"can't be too fast but can't be too slow. need to be rough but also need to be gentle. tch, you are sooo hard to please, princess." caleb draws out his words, thrusting his fingers inside your sloppy hole as your cunt sucked them in greedily.
"nghhh~ c-caleb i feel weird.. s-stop!" your words were empty, feeling your cunt gush all over his hand. a small stream of warm, clear liquid squirted out of your hole, making your eyes widen as you watched caleb press your lower stomach a little harder.
"that's it, pretty girl. give it to me." he talked you through your release, hand now drenched in your cum and juices. you tried to catch your breath, feeling like you just ran a marathon.
caleb slipped his fingers out of your ruined pussy, bringing them to his lips before his tongue lapped at his cum-covered digits. he hummed in satisfaction, enjoying your taste.
"so sweet." he praised, making you shudder.
you lifted yourself off of him, turning your body to face him with a scowl as you crossed your arms over your chest.
"you're such a jerk! you didn't let me cum the first time." you complained, making him cock an eyebrow.
"is that how you say thank you after i made you cum so hard? what an ungrateful mouth ya got, pips." caleb's eyes darkened, now settling to sit on his knees.
you gulped harshly, watching the slow yet calculated movements of his fingers working through his belt before unzipping his jeans; pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down. his cock sprang to life, hitting against his clothed abs as your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of his dick.
caleb was fucking hung, to say the least.
the dark pinkish mushroom tip of his hard cock angrily wept with beads of precum. he was long and thick, at least a good eight inches as his heavy cum-filled balls were settled on his waistband. a singular pulsating vein ran up the underside of his cock, a small peek of the dark happy trail leading to his huge cock graced your eyes.
"let's put that bratty mouth of yours to some good use, yeah?" caleb's hand reached out, thumb grazing your lower lip before pushing it a bit further, probing into your mouth. your tongue poked out as he pressed down on it, making you playfully bite down.
his body is trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. caleb's hands are everywhere, touching, grasping, holding you. he's desperate, every kiss, every touch filled with a raw, primal need.
caleb pulls you closer, his body hot against yours, his muscles coiled and tense. he's lost, drowning in you, his mind filled with nothing but the need to touch you, to be closer to you, to claim you as his own. he kisses down your neck, his mouth finding your collarbone, his teeth leaving marks, his hands leaving bruises.
you felt his bare cock rub against the smooth skin of your thighs, the tip smearing a trail of warm precum. you reached down to wrap your hand around his massive girth, making a ragged moan rip out of his throat, muffling the sound by biting down on your neck; leaving a purplish bruising mark to claim you as his.
"you're so big, caleb." you whispered, thumbing at his tip as you ran your finger along his wet slit.
caleb swallowed harshly, grunting as he felt you stroking his cock; noting how your small hands could barely hold him. it only made him wonder...
how much could your mouth take?
he kisses over the tender flesh of your boobs, his teeth grazing over your skin, his touch growing rougher, more demanding with each movement. he's desperate, craving you, his hand gripping your hip, his fingers.
he pulls away for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he looks down at you. his hand tenderly comes up to cup your face, tilting your head up to make you meet his eyes.
"you gonna be a good girl for me, princess?" he asks, thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek. you nodded, kissing the inside of his palm.
"mhm, promise." you gave him a girly smile, making his heart and cock jump at the same time.
you leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss on his tip, making caleb's jaw hang open from the contact. you gave small kitten-licks, tasting the slightly salty taste of his precum.
you grabbed a hold of his thick shaft before opening your mouth as wide as you could; feeding yourself his cock inch by inch until you felt the tip hit your uvula. the sudden warmth and wetness of your mouth welcoming caleb's hard dick made his muscles tense, hands unknowingly finding purchase in your hair as he pushed you towards his pelvis.
you gagged at the sudden movement, making caleb moan from the sudden tightness in your throat. you began to bob you head at a steady pace, sucking his cock with vigor as you pushed yourself to take as much of his massive length. whatever was left behind was tended by your hands.
you hollowed your cheeks, tongue circled around his tip before suckling on it like a lollipop, as caleb's head was thrown back from the intense pleasure you were giving him.
"fuuuuuckkk, just like that. good girlâh-hahhhh... such a good fuckin' girl." a ragged breath leaves his mouth, feeling the tip of your tongue trace the rigid line of the vein that ran up the side of his cock before swirling it around the sensitive head of his dick.
his hips buck slightly into your touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. caleb look down at you with lust-filled eyes, his gaze hazy and unfocused.
"where'd you learn how to do all of this, huh?" caleb groans, voice strained and tight with pleasure. he throws his head back with a low moan, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations overwhelm him. caleb's cock throbs and pulses in your warm mouth, growing even harder as you shove his cock deeper in your throat.
the feeling of your lips stretching around his girth while your tongue worked along the underside of his shaft felt like pure ecstasy. caleb grips your hair tighter, guiding your head as you bob up and down faster.
caleb begins to rock his hips slightly to meet your movements. he can feel the pleasure building rapidly, heart pounding in his ribs and breath growing ragged.
"fuck, fuck, fuuuckkkk.... gonna cum. shit, gonna cum so much down your throat, princess." caleb cries out, dick twitching in your throat as he bucks his hips into your mouth desperately to chase his high. the erotic sight of your hair framing your face while swallowing his massive hard cock sent pleasure waves all throughout his veins, adrenaline pumping as his balls ached for release.
suddenly you pull your mouth away, leaving his throbbing, aching cock exposed and pulsing in the cool air. a choked moan rips out of his throat, frustration warring with the lingering pleasure. caleb frowns slightly, brows knitting together.
before he could even put in a word of retaliation, you harshly tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a nasty-cum coated open-mouthed kiss. caleb grunts from the sudden action that caught him off-guard, still recovering from the shocks of his denied orgasm.
the sounds of his moans and groans are muffled by your invading tongue. you kiss him with a fervor that steals his breath away, lips sloppy and wet against his. caleb can taste the lingering essence of his own precum on your tongue.
your tongue pushes deeper, stroking along his, sliding against the roof of his mouth. caleb can feel his cock throbbing almost painfully against your thigh, leaking and twitching with each roll and swirl of your sly tongue.
he grabs a hold of your jaw, forcing the two of your to part as he tries to catch his breath. clearly you were trying to distract him from what you did a few minutes ago, but he wasn't about to let that shit slide.
"you think you're funny, huh?" caleb pants harshly, reaching down to grip his spit-slicked cock, giving it a few slow, teasing strokes as he gazes at you with a mix of longing and bewilderment.
"you're gonna pay for that, brat." he glares darkly, shoving your head down towards his pelvis; rubbing the swollen, leaking head of his cock against your soft, plump lips, smearing them with his precum. you gasp at the sudden maneuvering, planting your hands on his thighs to ground yourself.
"open your fucking mouth." caleb commanded with a thick tone, and as soon as he felt your lips part, he thrusted his hips upward, driving his thick cock past your lips and deep into your warm, tight throat. he held your head in place, using your mouth like his personal fleshlight. caleb groaned at the sudden sensation of your throat clenching around his sensitive flesh.
caleb fucked your face with deep, rough strokes. the wet, obscene sounds of you choking and gagging filled the room as he used your mouth, heavy balls slapping against your chin with each brutal thrust.
"gonna fuck your pretty little throat until you're nothing but a sloppy, drooling mess." he promises darkly, voice strained with pleasure and a hint of cruelty.
your throat constricts around his pistoning cock as caleb's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he chased his rapidly approaching orgasm. the room fills with the wet, gagging sounds of your struggles followed by his guttural moans. drool and precum mix together, dripping down onto your heaving tits.
you weakly tap at his thighs, only for him to ignore your feeble attempts; too far gone and lost in his pleasure from the wet heat of your convulsing throat. he's determined to take what he needs and use you until he's satisfied.
"no tapping out, brat. you're gonna-hnghh... fuck, you're gonna take what i give. gonna blow my load and you're gonna swallow every last drop." caleb can barely form coherent thoughts, brain fogged by how good your mouth felt swallowing his aching cock.
with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep in your mouth, swollen cock pulsing and throbbing. caleb throws his head back with a guttural, animalistic groan as he starts to cum; hot, thick and sticky webs erupting directly down your throat to paint it white.
caleb holds your head in place, forcing you to take every last drop as he fills your stomach with his seed. he can feel you swallowing desperately around his pulsing dick, trying to gulp down his load.
caleb releases his grip on your hair and pulls you off of his now softening cock. you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering, thick ropes of his cum and drool dripping from your fucked-out mouth.
"you don't like it when i play nice, huh." caleb taunts, reaching out to catch a stray drop of cum and drool on your cheek with his finger.
"y-you! i hate you!" you glared at him, face now flushed with embarrassment as your plan of getting payback completely flopped.
"don't glare at me like that. i just cummed down your pretty little throat, what do you say?" he asks, making you pout as you look to the side.
"don't ignore me." he scowls, squishing your cheeks to make you face him and you groaned.
"t-thank you, caleb!" your words were muffled, but he heard you. caleb scoffed, letting go of you before swiftly taking off his shirt. he pushed you down into the mattress, parting your thighs to slot himself between them. violet eyes gleamed with a newfound hunger as he drank in the sight of your glorious dishevelment.
"i should lock you up... put a bell around your neck to know where you're headed when you wanna act against my words." caleb snarls, making you gulp as you felt slightly intimidated by the shift in the atmosphere.
however, your eyes were now trained on his well-sculpted muscular body. there was a thin sheen layer of sweat glistening on his chest from the shocks of his intense orgasm.
he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his erection along your panty-covered slit. the damp patch on your underwear grows, the fabric clinging to your swollen folds. caleb can feel the heat radiating off your core, drawing him in as his slick covered cock smears a mix of his cum and spit on your panties.
"oh, caleb!" you squealed at how deliciously the hard ridge of his cock slid along your slit, grazing over your puffy clit. your panties were now soaked with a mix of your juices, his cum and spit all combined; making it easy for him to glide his dick over your clothed pussy.
"tell me, why do you insist on running away from me, huh? don't you know you're mine? that i'll always find you?" caleb murmurs, his voice low and possessive.Â
he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them to the side, baring your dripping slit to his hungry gaze. caleb notches his bulbous cock head at your entrance, the swollen tip nudging against your slick folds. he doesn't push inside, not yet.
caleb's cock throbs against your bare folds, the thick shaft sliding along your sticky slit. the bulbous head nudging against your sensitive clit with each roll of his hips. he watches with dark satisfaction as your twitching little bud peeks out from beneath its hood, swollen and glistening with your juices.
"look at this greedy cunt, so hungry for my cock," caleb rasps, his voice heavy with lust. he circles his hips, grinding his hard dick against your aching clit. the motion sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your back arch off the mattress.
he feels your slick arousal coating his shaft, your juices dripping down to his heavy balls. the sensation only spurs him on, urges him to rut against her harder, faster.
he wants to fucking ruin you.
caleb leans down and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and claiming it as his own. he swallows every whimper, every mewl of pleasure that escapes your lips. his cock jumps against your folds, the thick length pulsing with a mind of its own.
"gonna make this pussy sloppy with my cum. fuck, you need my cock so bad, don't you?" he breathes out, words failing to process in your head as you just nodded.
"yes, yes, yes! oh please, caleb... f-feel so so good. nghhh~ love your cock..!" you cried out, seeing stars as you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft as it drags between your wet folds; the tip of his weeping slit kissing your clit each time he snaps his hips forward.
your fingers claw at caleb's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you cling to him. the heat building inside you coils tighter and tighter, inner walls starting to flutter on nothing as you could feel your incoming orgasm.
it takes everything in him to not slam his cock in you and fuck you to an oblivion.
"s-shit, gonna cum." caleb lets out a strangled moan, his cock pulses and jerks against your folds, the tip flaring angrily and leaking a thick spurt of cum. the hot, sticky liquid coats your folds, as caleb continued to grind his hips against yours; the lewd shlick shlick sounds of your wet cunt rubbing against his cum-coated cock nearly made you cum again undone.
"you're having too much fun." you cleared your throat, looking at him with a serious look.
"am i, now?" he innocently responds, making your irritation grow. using whatever bits of strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to sit before shoving him to the side; making him fall onto the bed.
he let you, of course.
hunger-filled amethyst eyes trailed your every move like a predator, licking his lips to revive some moisture.
"you never shut up, do you? always fuckin' nagging at me like i'm some dumb little kid. like you know everything! i'm sick of your shit, i can't stand you!" you yelled through gritted teeth, making him cock an eyebrow at your sudden change in attitude.
"yeah? can't stand me? then fucking sit, princess." caleb snarls back with equal bite.
your eyes darken, a twisted smirk ghosting on your lips.
"you know what, i will." you barked out a small chuckle, grabbing a hold of the waistband of your panties to shove them down; completely discarding them to the side.
you draped your leg over to the other side of his head, your dripping pussy hovering right above his face. caleb's eyes were trained on your cunt, engraving how your folds glistened with slick, puffy little clit cutely peeking out of your lips.
"no more talking. be a good boy and eat." you sternly directly, before putting your weight on him, mashing your dripping slit against his eager mouth.
caleb grips your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass.
"i could eat this pretty pussy all fucking day." caleb groans against your folds, his voice muffled but dripping with desire. he leans in and takes a long, slow lick up your slit, his tongue delving between your swollen pussy lips to lap at your juices.
"aahhh, yes... oh caleb, mhmmm..." you drawled out, eyes rolling back at you grinding your needy cunt against his tongue.
caleb's tongue swirls around your sensitive clit, flicking and circling the swollen bud as he sucks it between his lips. he presses open-mouthed wet smooches; the smacking and slurping sounds rang loud and clear in your head.
"thaaatsss what i wanna hear. fuck, so good." you giggle, drunk in pleasure as your head was thrown back in ecstasy. your fingers tighten in his hair, manicured nails peeking through his dark brown locks.
caleb's eyes were closed, relishing in your taste and the feel of your soft, wet pussy that was now making out with his tongue. it was perfect, everything he could possibly dream of when he used to desperately suck on the gausset of your soiled stolen panties.
you tasted so sweet, he's becoming addicted.
"so tired of hearing you. always so fuckin' mean to me... so b-bossyâhnghhh... always a fuckin' bitch when you don't get your damn way." you spoke through broken sentences, biting down on your lips, tasting the metallic taste of blood as soft whimpers were drawn from your throat.
as you grind your hips against caleb's face, his nose nudges against your clit with each desperate roll. the little bud, swollen and throbbing from his relentless assault, catches on the bridge of his nose with each downward thrust.Â
he takes advantage of the sensation, tilting his chin to rub his nose against her clit. his tongue darted out to tease your aching hole, jaw gaped open as you feel him plunge his tongue inside. he drives his muscle in and out, lips sealed around your entrance to catch every drop of your sweet juices. the lewd sound of wet, sloppy sucking fills the room as he eats you out with vigor.
his tongue pokes and curls inside your wet walls, making wanton moans escape your lips as you tugged on his hair. your eyes screwed shut, short, sharp gasps itched your throat.
"yes, yes, yes! h-hahhh, so good. fuck, gonna cum!" you cried out, pressing your leaking cunt down on his face, smoothering him completely. caleb was completely pussy drunk, his brain short-circuited. you body tensed, thighs trembling as you could feel your lower stomach tighten; reaching your high.
"caleb!" you moaned out his name in the most pornographic tone ever, body jerking from the after shock as your pussy gushed all over his face; coating his chin and lips with your cum. he lapped at your wet, overstimulated cunt to clean you up, not wanting to waste a single drop.
you hastily grabbed at the headboard, trying to escape but his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips to yank you back down, locking you in place as he sucked you dry.
"s-stop, it's too much." you breathed out, pushing his head away. with one final slow and long drag of his tongue between your sticky folds followed by a wet kiss on your clit; he finally pulls away, licking his lips.
you watch his face peek out from between your thighs, a lazy wet smirk dancing on his lips. violet eyes staring up at your flushed face, watching the small beads of sweat trickle down the side of your face. caleb presses soft kisses on your inner thighs, making goosebumps form all over your body; still recovering from the sensitivity your previous orgasm gave you.
"you've been holding all of that inside you for a while, huh? that nobody of a girl made your panties twist so hard that you've been acting so harsh with me. i'm hurt." caleb's words were soft spoken, tone lace with an undertone of sadness, lips grazing against the skin of your thighs.
"you're hurt? what about me? i watched you smile and laugh with her like she told you the world's funniest joke ever. you seen her these past few months more than you've been home. and... a-and-" you could feel the familiar lump form in your throat, eyes pricking with tears as you silently cursed at yourself for still being so weak.
caleb's gaze softened, heart clenching at the sight of seeing you hold back tears. nonetheless, he remained quiet, wanting to hear you out and speak to him after your unforgiving silent treatment.
deep down, he knew that neither of you wanted things to head down south. you wanted to fix things and so did he, and this was the only way.
the only chance the both of you will have to be so vulnerable to each other, so weak and soft.
"you cooked for her caleb. i thought... i thought that was something you only did for me. i feel special when you care for me, knowing that there's still someone left on this planet that'll put up with me. that... that i still have you to find home in." with that being said, all your walls came crashing down as warm tears ran down your cheek, bottom lip quivering. each droplet landed on his cheek, making his gut twist in guilt for hurting you so much unknowingly.
"pips... i never cooked for her with any intention. i showed her a picture of the omurice i made for you and she wanted the recipe. i just showed her the technique i used to fold the egg." caleb explained, lithe fingers softly caressing the softness of your hips, tracing the small faint lines of your stretch marks that he adored so much.
"r-really? so you don't hate me?" you sniffled, making him let out a small laugh.
"of course not, silly girl. where'd you get that from? you know i love you more than life itself, y/n. you're my whole world, everything in my life revolves around you, pips. without you... i'm nothing." he sincerely confessed, his voice raw with emotion as if every last word was ripped straight out of the depths of his heart that bled for you and only you.
he looked at you like you hung the stars for him, like your gentle arms cradled the moon in the night sky to shine light in his dark life; like you were the warmth of the sun that embraced him.
you moved down, now sitting on his stomach before leaning down; releasing your weight to lay on him.
"oh, my sweet girl." instinctively, caleb wrapped his arms around you. he pressed a tender kiss on the top of your hair, gently stroking your back to soothe you as you cried.
"i'm sorry, caleb." you choked out, making him shake his head.
"you have nothin' to be sorry for, baby. i'm sorry for not realizing how much i was hurting you." caleb apologized, making you tighten your embrace.
"why do you put up with me?" you genuinely asked.
was it pity?
emotional attachment?
"because i love you." he answered without any hesitation, making your heart flutter.
"you're stupid." you laugh, making him chuckle. you pulled away, face hovering above his as you looked down at his handsome face, his features already memorized and engraved within the deep crevices of your brain.
"you think i'm kidding? i'll prove it to you then." caleb wipes away the stray tear on your cheek before bringing his hand behind your head, pulling you in for a kiss.
it wasn't rough or messy like the previous ones. no, this one was different, felt different. his lips were molding with yours, just like how his soul molded with yours whenever you were in his arms; safe and sound. he felt warm, smelled like home and felt like heaven on earth.
with a firm arm wrapped around you, holding your body in place with his, he manhandled you; now having you under him as his broad stature hovered above you.
after giving him your whole heart essentially and having that sappy conversation, you suddenly felt shy under his gaze. with a swift motion, you rolled onto your stomach, hiding your face in the sheets. a warm smile was painted on his lips, finding your actions adorable.
"hiding that pretty face of yours from me? how selfish of you." he teased, his words held no malice. caleb moved your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin as he pressed soft kisses all over your back; trailing down your spine.
suddenly, his eyes fall on the inked words on your lower back.
kiss here đ
his eyes widened, never noticing the tattoo because your panties probably hid it from him or something.
it must've been recent.
"when did you get this?" he questions, tracing the words with the tip of his finger.
"a month ago." you blurted out, words slightly muffled due to your face being buried in the mattress.
"and you didn't tell me? who did it? was it a guy?" caleb bombarded you with questions, voice sounding a little on edge.
"relax, it was one of my girl friends. she recently opened up her own tattoo shop and i offered to be her first client." you defended, but the situation didn't switch directions regardless.
"could've been an animal for all i care. only i can see you like this." he presses wet smooches on your tattoo repeatedly, making you sigh in bliss.
you could feel his hard cock rubbing against the swell of your ass, his hips rutting against you to gain some kind of friction. caleb grunted, licking and kissing your flesh.
"tell me you want it, y/n. please, i-i... i need to hear you say that you want me as bad as i want you." caleb begged, making your breath hitch as you felt his arm dig under your stomach, lifting your waist.
you turned your head a little, eyes locking with him.
"please caleb, i want you so bad. i need you, only you. please, fuck me." your voice was broken with desire, feeling yourself getting wet as you clenched your thighs tightly together.
as you lay face down on the bed, legs slightly spread hips tilted up, caleb kneels behind you, taking in the tantalizing view of your ass and the glistening, swollen folds of your pussy peeking out from between your thighs. he can see the way your body trembled with anticipation, heat radiating off your skin.
"gonna make you feel so good, sweet girl. i'll take care of you." caleb leans down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your spine, his hands kneading the soft globes of your ass before kissing it.
he parts your thighs further with his knees as he positions himself behind you, hard, thick cock hovering over your entrance. he takes a moment to rub the leaking tip up and down your sticky slit, coating himself in your slick arousal as the head of his cock swipes at your clit a few times.
the fat, mushroom tip of his dick prods at your tight hole, making you gasp as you feel him push it in.
"breathe, baby. i got you, i promise." caleb softly whispered, his free hand rubbing up and down the sides of your thigh.
slowly, he begins to push in further, feeding your wet cunt more inches of his massive cock. a yelp escaped your lips from the pain of being stretched, the sensation foreign. your arms gave out, body now slumped on the bed as you shoved your face in the bed, muffling your painful winces as you gripped the sheets.
"i know, honey... i'm sorry, i promise it'll feel better." caleb groaned, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock. he takes his time, letting you adjust to his size.
he was barely halfway in, but you already felt so full of him, like you were one.
caleb's hand reached down to rub your clit, trying to provide some kind of pleasurable stimulation to distract you from the pain. after some time, he pushed his hips further in, making you take more of his cock until you were stretched to the brim, a small bulge forming in your lower stomach.
caleb pants, cock enclosed by your soft, wet, gummy walls. he suddenly pulled back until the tip of his cock threatened to slip out. confused, you raised your head to look back at him, only for the wind to be knocked out of your lungs as he snapped his hips forward with a sharp thrust, making your eyes blow wide open as a squeal ripped out of your throat.
"you're doing so well, y/n. taking me so beautifully, like you were made for this, made to be mine. i love you so fucking much, baby. i want this to be everything you've ever dreamed of." caleb moaned, fucking into you at a leisure pace, making you whimper as the pain subsided to a delicious pleasureable feeling.
he leans down, pressing a tender kiss on your nape, his flushed chest pressed against your back. caleb grinds his pelvis against your hips, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you were filled to the brim.
"caleb! hnghhh... s-so full.." you mewled, your body hot and trembling as he continued to thrust in and out of your sloppy hole that was now leaking on his cock.
you shuddered, feeling his hips pistoning into you, dick driving into you deeper and deeper as your walls clamped down on it. the single vein on his cock rubbed your velvety walls, making your eyes roll back at you could feel his dick pulsate inside you.
caleb's eyes land on the pink bow discarded on the side of your bed, arm reaching out to grab the clip. he clips the bow onto your hair, before kissing the back of your head.
"beautiful, so damn beautiful." he praised, breathless.
his thrusts are still slow and deliberate but growing steadily harder, deeper, more purposeful. he takes his time, savoring each slide of his thick cock through your tight, virgin cunt, each clench and flutter of your walls around him, each breathless little sound that escapes your lips.
caleb's hand snakes around your hip, slipping down to the juncture of your thighs. he finds your swollen, aching clit and starts to circle it with the pad of his thumb, his touch maddeningly slow and teasing at first before growing more insistent, more demanding.
"f-fuck, you're perfect. been dreaming of this moment my whole life, baby. i love you, god, i love you so much! h-ahhh... please, please, please. oh sweet girl, tell me you love me. please? oh, i'll do anything for you. anything!" he desperately ruts against you, thrusts becoming more needy as he grunts in your ears.
caleb was was balls deep in you, each stroke was sharp but it hit all the right spots. his balls heavily slapped against your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. he licks and bites down on your shoulder, intoxicated by your smell and taste.
your hand reaches behind him, fingers finding his dog-tag necklace as you tugged it; pulling his face closer. you turned your head to the side, lifting it before locking your lips with his. with the sloppiness of his thrusts, you chased the movements of his lips.
"i love you, caleb. fu-nghh~ i've always loved you, always! there's no man for me unless it's you. god, i love you so bad, my body craves you... only you." you moaned against his lips, eyes gazing into his violets with nothing but pure adoration.
caleb's heart pounds against his ribs, blood rushing to his cock as adrenaline pumps into his veins. his hips never faltered, a steady pace as he continues to bruise your cervix with each deep thrust.
"you're mine, only mine. i'm the only one who can see you like this, make you fall apart like this. god, you were made to be loved by me." and suddenly, his eyes prick with tears as the fat drops trickle down his cheek.
you could feel the familiar coil tightening in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your toes curled in pleasure.
"fuck, fuck... oh, caleb! i'll study hard, so fuckin' hard. i'll become a nurse in the DAA, so that i can be with you all the time. everyone will know that your mine, only mine!" your eyes screwed shut, brain fogged with nothing but the feeling of being so cock drunk.
caleb's pupils dilated, the possessive undertone of your words, how you claimed him and wanted to be with him; it's all that it took for him to blow his load.
"cumming, fuck, gonna breed this sweet pussy." caleb groaned, arm circling around your hips to deeply nestle his cock in you; thick, sticky webs of cum painting your walls white. he continued to thrust his dick inside, feeling your walls twitch before gushing all over him, drenching his balls as a white ring of cum formed at the base of his shaft.
caleb rests his body on top of yours, careful to not crush you with his entire weight. the two of you are completely breathless, bodies covered in sweat.
he pulls out his now soft cock, watching your hole gape open from the loss of contact of being stretched with his massive girth. his cum spilled out of your messy cunt, trickling down and onto the bed.
caleb laid on the side, scooting closer to pull you against him. you wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging to his body heat as you nuzzled your face against his chest. he stroked your hair, brushing the baby hairs that stuck to your sweaty forehead.
your eyelids fluttered open, a hazy look as you looked up at him. he gave you a soft smile, leaning down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose before pressing a long, tender kiss on your lips.
"tired." you mumbled, making him laugh.
"yeah? get some sleep, pips. i'll clean you up." he offers, making you giggle.
"wow, ten out of ten aftercare. no wonder why every girl wants you." you grin, but he could sense a small undertone of sadness in your voice.
"aftercare that they'll never get to experience because they're not you, y/n. this was my first time too, y'know." caleb shyly admitted as the tips of his ears turned red, making your eyes widen in suprise.
"seriously?" you asked, a bit baffled.
"yeah, it felt wrong to be with any other girl that wasn't you." he sheepishly smiled, making your heart skip a beat.
he saved himself for you all this time.
caleb grabbed the matching necklace that sat gracefully on your tits, brushing his thumb over the cold metal.
"i love you and only you. y/n, you're the woman of my dreams, the only one who can make my heart beat with purpose." caleb's tone was sincere, words pure with love.
your fingers wrapped around his chain, bringing the tag pendant closer to you.
"and you're the only one my heart is set to love, caleb." you smiled warmly, eyes lovingly gazing at him.
the two of you kissed each other's pendant, sealing the heartfelt confession.
°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ°ââ.ŕłŕż:ｼ
it was finally the day that caleb would graduate from university and the DAA program. you were excited to attend his graduation, your heart swelling with pride as you knew how hard he worked for all his achievements.
he passed his exams and necessary coursework, graduating with honors and securing a full-time job at the DAA. god, just how much more perfect could he get?
you entered the huge stadium, holding a bouquet of colorful lilies and orchids. you took a seat in the sea of parents that came to see their children walk on the stage, fixing your white sundress.
the ceremony began as the faculty members began to give their boring speeches. soon after, it was time to hand the degrees and certificates as each graduate began to walk across the stage.
your heart leaped into your throat as you watched caleb step up the stairs of the stage, his name being called and a loud scream of his name erupted from your throat as you cheered for him proudly.
"i love you baby!!" you yelled from the back, but your voice caught his ear as he turned to the audience, immediately finding your face. he shot you a charming smile, waving before walking off the stage.
you felt like a fan who's celebrity crush finally noticed them.
after the ceremony was over, all the students scrambled in different directions to congratulate friends and hug their family. you finally made it past the swarming crowd of parents, watching caleb walk towards your direction as he was deeply immersed in his conversation. however, from the corner of your eyes you could make out the familiar face of the one person you wished to not see.
it was the girl in his program, ___. you smirked to yourself, halting your steps as you let her approach him first. you watch caleb freeze, body tensing as an awkward smile replaced his previous expression.
poor baby.
saving him from the misery, you tightly grip onto the pretty bouquet of flowers in your arms, running towards him. the click-clack sounds of your heels echoed, and yeah, your toes did hurt.
but it didn't matter.
"caleb!!" you chirped with a bright smile, catching his attention as caleb's lips automatically curled into a grin.
he opened his arms as you jumped into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as your legs locked around his waist. you giggled, pressing kisses all over his face; staining his flawless skin with red kiss marks.
"congrats, caleb. oh, you look soooo handsome in your uniform." you cooed, smooching his lips shamelessly as you smiled against his lips.
"yeah? you got a thing for guys in uniform now, pips?" caleb teased, making you smirk.
"only if it's you... but i think i'd prefer if your uniform was off." you playfully bite his bottom lip, making him chuckle.
"naughty girl." he whispered, making you giggle.
suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat. you turned your head and looked at ___ shift from one foot to the other, face tainted with embarrassment.
"uh, i think i'll go, my parents are probably looking for me. congrats again, caleb." she forced a tight smile, waving at you two before turning around to leave. your eyes fell on the small letter in her hands, now gripping it tight to crumple it as she walked away.
"confessing on graduation day? how lame. well, not like she had a chance anyways." you huffed, shrugging with indifference.
"you're real mean, pips. i like this side of you." caleb grinned, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
"now can we go home? i still have to give your gift!" you pouted impatiently.
"oh really? or is that an excuse to trap me and strip me out of my uniform?" he poked at you with a sly expression, making you smirk. you gasp playfully.
"how did you know?" you winked, before the the both of you broke into a fit of laugh.
"okay, okay. let's go home, my sweet girl." with that being said, caleb walked out of the stadium with you still in his arms and his face full of your kiss marks.
and he wouldn't have had it any other way.
---
a/n: if you made it to the end, here's a fat smooch for you :3 hope you guys enjoyed this caleb piece, it took me a few weeks to work on it lol. idk why but it's something about this man that just makes something clench iykyk. sigh, wtf did infold lace into him when making him. anyways, let me know if you guys prefer longer smutfics or if you like them short! if you couldn't tell, i get carried away very easily lolol.
âźď¸Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!
Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for himâeven when you know youâre just a stand-in, a place holder.
âI bet you still thought of me.â
song: party 4 u by charlie xcx [this song has been the main inspiration for this series, so whatever you feel listening go this song, i hope youâll feel that while reading this series as well]
word count = 9.6k
i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over <3
i cant say im proud of this chapter, and tbh theres so much i hate about this part, but if i dont post this right now, i dont think i ever will, so please be kind, but i appreciate constructive criticisms! if this part felt unsatisfactory, just pretend this update didnt happen lol
ps. thank you so much for over 1k followers??? heres a thousand roses for all of you đđš
part 1 | masterlist
The door creaks open.
The closetâs darkness slips away, replaced by blinding light and loud cheers.
But everything feels distant.
Your breaths are shallow. The warmth of his breath still clings to your skin, the ghost of his lips a lingering echo. His touchâstill branded into your waist, your jaw, the hollow between your ribs. Your pulse hasnât settled.
The air outside is cool, but your skin burns.
You stumble slightly as you step out, Sylus behind youâhis shirt rumpled, one button undone. His silver hair is tousled, a little too messy. Your lips sting. You know you look wrecked.
And the crowd eats it up. Whoops and whistles explode around you.
You try to smile. You try to breathe.
But then your eyes land on him.
Caleb.
Heâs across the room, half-lit by the cheap string lights, drink forgotten in his hand. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadableâexcept for his eyes.
They are cold.
Piercing.
Itâs not anger. Itâs like heâs looking right through youâlike youâve somehow ruined something sacred. Like youâre the disappointment.
Your chest tightens.
And then, just behind him, you catch a flash of movement.
MC.
Her head is down, hair shielding her face, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she brushes past him, shouldering her way through the crowd.
Caleb snaps out of his trance in a heartbeat. His face shiftsâconcern overtaking scornâas he calls after her and follows without hesitation.
And just like every time before, he doesnât even spare you a second glance.
The cheers fade into static. Laughter turns tinny and distant, swallowed by the ringing in your ears.
It hits you all at once.
The heat. The mess. The press of Sylusâs body against yours. The way you leaned into it. The way you wanted to. The way you let yourself.
And thenâMCâs face. Her voice. Her smile when she told you heâs kinda cute, isnât he?
Guilt slams into you like a car.
It punches the breath from your lungs.
You feel it in your throat, acidic and raw, threatening to spill. A sickening twist coils in your stomach, bile licking at the edges of your tongue.
What have you done?
What did you just let happen?
Your skin crawls. The warmth you felt seconds ago now feels wrongâdisgusting. It clings to you like smoke. Like shame.
You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the nausea curling up your chest.
Sylus says something beside you, low and teasing, but you donât catch the words.
All you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears.
And all you can feel is the weight of what youâve just done. The taste of it. Bitter. Burning.
And the worst part?
You donât even know who youâre more disgusted withâCalebâŚ
Or yourself.
You donât wait for the whispers.
You donât wait to see if MC turns back or if Caleb says anything at all.
You push through the crowd, pulse hammering in your throat, lungs clawing for air like thereâs not enough oxygen in the room, not enough space in your ribs for this many feelings, this much shame.
The door slams shut behind you but itâs not enough.
Not enough to drown out the ghost of Sylusâs hands still on your waist. Not enough to erase the memory of his mouth against yours, hot and unbothered and too real.
Not enough to wipe away the scowl in Calebâs eyes or the way MC couldnât even look at you.
The night is too loud. The world is too close. Everythingâeverythingâis pressing in on you.
So you push everything out of your way, scouring to find air.
You donât think, donât breathe, just bolt down the steps of the villa, sandals slapping against stone, the wind catching in your hair, stinging your eyes, stealing your balance. You donât care.
The beach calls to you like a goddamn siren.
You trip onto the sand, knees buckling, breath shaking, heart feral in your chest like itâs trying to break out and leave you behind. You tear your heels off, toss them somewhere youâll never find again, and march straight toward the water like it might wash you clean.
The ocean crashes louder than your thoughts.
Salt fills your nose. Wind tangles in your hair. The stars above are too bright, mocking. Too calm for the storm splitting your insides apart.
You drop to your knees at the shoreline, water licking at your calves, seeping into your clothes, and you let it. You need it. You need the cold. You need the sting. You need to feel something real.
Because everything in your chest is twisted. Twisted and wrong and out of place.
You lean forward, pressing your forehead against your knees, breathing like each inhale might keep you from unraveling completely. You wish it were just the alcohol. Just a mistake. Just a hazy memory you could laugh off tomorrow.
But you remember it too clearly.
His mouth. The weight of his gaze in the dark. The way his hand didnât hesitate when it slid against your jaw, when he leaned in like heâd been waiting to taste you all night.
And you let him.
Worseâyou wanted it.
The thought turns your stomach. You dig your fingers deeper into the wet sand, nails scraping at the earth, like maybe you can bury the part of you thatâs smiling.
Because sheâs there.
Somewhere inside youâbeneath the nausea, beneath the shameâthereâs a version of you curled up, smug and satisfied. A version who watched MCâs face twist, who watched Calebâs scowl turn cold, and felt nothing but satisfaction.
That part of you is smiling.
You hate her.
Because that part of youâthe one that enjoyed itâsheâs been quiet for a long time. Always biting her tongue, always watching from the corners while MC took the spotlight, while Caleb gave his warmth to someone else. You taught her to wait. To be kind. To be better.
But god, youâre tired.
Tired of twinkling for people who never look up long enough to see you. Tired of being loved only in partsâwhen youâre easy, when youâre quiet, when youâre beautiful and harmless.
Youâve always been the supporting character in everyone elseâs story. The best friend. The comic relief. The tragic footnote.
So tonight, you wanted to be the villain.
So tonight, she let herself out.
You let her kiss him.
You let her drag Sylus into that closet and tilt your chin up with a smile that begged âruin me if you want to.â
And she did.
Now here you are, buried in the sand and sea, trying to figure out if the guilt eating at you is heavier than the satisfaction still curling at the edge of your lips.
Youâre not supposed to feel this way.
Youâre not supposed to want to be seen like that. Wanted like that.
Not at the cost of MC. Not at the cost of Calebâs crumbling expression.
But you do.
You wanted them to see. You wanted to be wanted. And for a secondâyou finally were.
And for that, you are repenting your sins, kneeling by the shore and letting the cold eat you whole.
The tide rushes in again, crashing against your skin.
You raise your head, throat raw, eyes burning.
You sit there, watching the waves hit and retreat, over and over, counting the sparkling stars reflected on the ocean surface, until you could not feel your feet.
This is your way of atoningâbecause you fear the girl curled up inside you, biting on her nails every time a tear threatens to fall. Because the damage she has done once you let her out for a fraction of a moment is irreversible. Collateral.
And because you canât promise this will be the last time you let her out.
You finally return to your room, dread curling tight in your chest like a vice. Each step down the hallway feels heavier than the last, your body moving on autopilot, mind spiraling with possibilities.
You hesitate at the door. Fingers resting on the knob. You arenât sure what youâre bracing for.
An angry Michaela?
A tear-streaked Michaela?
A cold, distant Michaela who wonât even look you in the eye?
You donât know which would be worse.
The knob turns with a quiet click, the door creaking open. You take a breathâslow, bracingâand step inside.
Empty.
The room is quiet. Still.
Her suitcase remains tucked in the corner. A half-drunk bottle of water sits on the bedside table. The lights are off, the curtains drawn. Not a trace of her. Not even the ghost of footsteps.
Somehow, itâs worse than yelling.
You stand there for a moment, motionless, caught in the heavy weight of nothingness.
Then your phone buzzes.
MC [02:46 AM]: Had to clear my head. Be back later.
Short. Punctuated. Not cold, but definitely not warm either.
And with that, youâre left alone.
Surrounded by silence.
Sinking into it.
You sit on the edge of the bed, heart thrumming against your ribs.
You should feel relieved.
You grip the edge of the mattress tighter.
You should be thankful the confrontation didnât happen yet.
But all you feel is this crawling unease.
Like the silence is just the eye of the storm.
And when she comes backâ
Youâre not sure which version of Michaela youâll meet.
And worseâyouâre not sure which version of you sheâll find.
You get changed and crawl under the covers, body heavy, soul heavier. The silence is your only companionâthick, choking, unforgiving. You bury yourself into the blankets like they could shield you from the weight of what youâve done.
Eventually, exhaustion drags you under.
â˘
Rustling wakes you.
Sharp. Precise. Intentional.
You blink your eyes open, and there she is.
Michaela.
Her back turned to you.
Her suitcase is open on the floor, half-filled. Clothes folded with a neatness that feels hostile.
You sit up slowly, throat dry.
She doesnât look at you, nor say a word.
You rise. Move toward your side of the room. Get ready in silence. The kind of silence that screams.
Every breath feels wrong. Every second, guilt crawls further up your throat, pressing, choking, aching.
You swallow hard, then try to break the weight as you part your mouth to speak.
Your voice is quiet. Fragile.
âMichaela⌠last night, Iââ
Michaela freezes for only a second before she turns around, face already wearing a smile that feels too sharp, too bright.
âWas such a blast! You gotta tell me all about what happened in that closet!â She winks.
âNoâIââ
âDonât think too deeply into it!â She waves her hand casually, like youâd just brought up a funny memory from a party instead of the reason her bag is half-packed. She lets out a breathy laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. âItâs college, Yn. People kiss like, all the time. Itâs nothing.â Her face drops slightly, but returns back to its beaming state. She reaches for your hands, and her voice lowers down. âItâs just a kiss, isn't it?â
A pause.
âY-yeah,â you utter.
Her face beams once more as she squeezes your hands. âBesides, he is a pretty good kisser, isnât he?â
You stare at her. The smile sheâs wearing is dazzlingâcarefully crafted, practiced.
But it doesnât reach her eyes.
And that hurts more than if sheâd screamed at you.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
Eventually, the two of you gather the last of your things and leave the room. You walk side by side, the air between you tight with everything unsaid.
Outside, everyone is saying their goodbyes. Laughter, hugs, last-minute selfies. But none of it touches you. Not really.
You spot Caleb near the car, arms crossed, jaw tight.
He shifts his weight, arms crossed, leaning against the car with that infuriatingly calm expressionâlike heâs been waiting to deliver a blow.
âWell, well,â he drawls, eyes dragging over your form. âEventful night, huh?â
You freeze mid-step.
His tone is light, teasing, even laced with that familiar cocky liltâbut it cuts deeper than any insult. Because you know Caleb. You know exactly when he means it. When the smile on his face is just another weapon.
âHope he was worth the show,â he adds with a smirk. You canât quite get a read on his face, canât really understand whether the smirk is teasing, jabbing, or insulting.
You donât answer. You canât. So you walk past him without a word.
But heâs not done.
He leans in just slightly, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear:
âI bet you still thought of me.â
It hits you like a slap. You donât flinch. You donât give him that satisfaction. But it scorches down your spine, curling into something heavy and sour in your stomach.
All words run dry in your throat.
Because you know you did, and he knows you did.
So, swallowing down the lump in your throat, you quietly climb into the car.
The ride back is a voidâquiet and cold despite the sun that floods through the windows.
Michaela sits in the front, headphones in, eyes fixed outside. Her expression is unreadable, a delicate mask of serenity.
Caleb drives in silence, but the tension in his body betrays him.
His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. The muscle in his jaw ticks every time the car slows.
And yetâdespite everythingâyou still see the way his hand occasionally reaches over to Michaelaâs thigh. Subtle. Familiar. He squeezes gently, reassuringly, every time the silence grows too loud.
You sit in the backseat, hands clenched in your lap, stomach churning, heart clawing at your ribcage.
Because somehow, in this cramped little car filled with silence and ghosts, you still feel like the one who doesnât belong.
â˘
You finally find yourself back in your familiar space.
The door clicks shut behind you.
Shoes off. Bag down. Keys tossed on the counter.
The silence wraps around you, soft and undemanding.
For the first time in days, you breathe without pretending.
You shower, letting the water scald the memory of Michaelaâs laugh off your skin.
You eat something. Actual food. Not alcohol. Not regret.
And for a brief, flickering moment, you start to feel okay again.
Until your phone pings.
A message.
Unknown [6:43 PM]: So?
You freeze.
Every part of you stillsâexcept for your heart, which begins to pound like it remembers the thing youâve tried so hard to forget since last night.
Something forbidden.
Something thrilling.
Something wrong.
The memory comes back in flashes as guilt claws its way up your throat, hot and unrelenting. It tastes like shame.
You stare at the screen until the words blur.
And then, with trembling hands, you type.
You [6:50 PM]: It was a mistake.
You [6:50 PM]: Donât text me again.
You hit send before you can think twice.
Your phone slips from your grip, landing face-down on the bed as you bury your face in your hands.
âIt was a mistake,â you mumbled.
â˘
The following days were the most peaceful ones youâve had in what felt like foreverâquiet, slow, and mercifully uneventful. No parties. No whispered gossip. No sharp glances from Caleb or strained smiles from Michaela. Just the soft hum of routine and the space to finally breathe.
You sleep more. Eat better. Enjoying the lasts of your break. Youâre rebuilding yourself piece by pieceâone uneventful morning at a time.
But the moment you start feeling a little more like yourself, Monday catches up.
The quiet comfort of the break ends the second your feet hit campus tiles. The world spins forward like nothing ever happened.
Michaela acts like nothing ever happened.
She greets you with the same bright smile, the same light giggle, the same affectionate bump of the shoulder. As if that night was just another one of many forgettable college party blurs. As if your lips had never touched Sylusâs. As if her eyes hadnât dulled the second they landed on you.
And you pretend too.
Because itâs easier that way. Safer.
Later that day, she loops her arm through yours as you walk out of class, swinging your hands between you. âLetâs go shopping after lectures? I need a new outfit or something for the first viewing next week,â she beams.
You nod before you can think too hard about it.
âOhââ she adds, with that little flicker in her voice that always precedes something calculated, âI invited Caleb too.â
Your smile doesnât falter, but your stomach twists.
The shopping trip is tolerable at best. Michaela slips into her spotlight with easeâtwirling in front of mirrors, holding up dresses with playful pouts, laughing just a bit too loud at jokes that donât quite land. Caleb sticks close, fingers brushing her waist, whisper her ear when she grins too hard.
But his eyes wander.
You catch him sometimes, gaze flicking to you when Michaela isnât looking. Just for a second. Just enough to leave that same sour taste in your throat.
You donât acknowledge it.
You canât.
Instead, you smile when Michaela pulls you into the dressing room with her. You nod when Caleb asks if youâre tired. You pretend not to notice how her laugh dims a little when he lingers by your side for too long. You go through the motionsâlift the hangers, compliment the colors, offer the safe, neutral opinions youâve mastered so well.
Itâs like muscle memory now. Playing your role.
Because if you donât look too hard, you can almost believe this is normal. That nothingâs changed. That your mouth hadnât betrayed you. That your silence wasnât stitched from guilt.
By the time the sun dips below the skyline and the three of you step out of the store, bags in hand and feigned joy in your lungs, you feel wrung outâdrained from smiling too much and meaning none of it.
Caleb says somethingâsomething teasing, probablyâand Michaela laughs like a girl in love.
You stay a step behind them, clutching your bag a little too tightly.
You tell yourself itâs fine.
You tell yourself you deserve this.
Because in this triangle of careful lies and quiet betrayalsâ
Youâre the one who kissed the wrong boy.
And you were the one who almost said yes again.
âOh! I almost forgot,â Michaela says, as if it just came to her. âYou have to come to the premiere next month.â
You blink. âThe⌠premiere?â
She grins. âThe film. The one we shot over break? Weâre doing a small screeningâkind of like a soft launchâfor friends and crew.â She swings her shopping bags absentmindedly. âItâs just this tiny old theatre on 12th. Indie vibes, red velvet seats, ancient projector that might burst into flames halfway throughâsuper charming.â
You force a smile. âSounds cute.â
âYouâll come, right?â she says, looking at you over the rim of her cup. âI already told them to save you a seat.â
You hesitateâbut not long enough for her to notice. âSure.â
She beams. âPerfect.â Then, casually: âSylus will be there too. I made sure heâd come.â
Your fingers tighten slightly around the straps of your bag.
âMade sure?â you echo, trying to keep your tone even.
Michaela shrugs, but thereâs a sparkle in her eyesâthe kind that always means sheâs saying more than she lets on. âYeah! Iâve been seeing him pretty frequently these days. Bumped into him a few times after the shoot⌠had coffee once or twice. Heâs actually really funny when heâs not being all mysterious and broody.â
âOh,â Caleb joins, light and amused. âHim. Great. Canât wait to hear him brood about cinematography or whatever the hell it is he does.â
Michaela laughs, linking her arm with yours again. âBe nice. Heâs actually been really helpful lately.â
âHelpful,â Caleb echoes, quirking a brow as he pops the lollipop from his mouth. âDidnât realize mysterious bad boys were part of the crew now.â
âHeâs not a âbad boyâ,â she says, rolling her eyes.
She says it lightly, but thereâs a deliberate lilt in her voiceâa softness, almost flirtatious.
Your grip on your bag tightens, the fabric biting into your fingers.
You nod once, slow. âDidnât know you two were close.â
She hums. âWeâre getting there.â
Then, with a coy smile: âHe asked a lot about you, though. Thought that was cute.â
Your chest constricts. The air feels thinner somehow.
âAnyway,â she says, skipping in front and spinning to fully face you, âitâs going to be such a fun night. You should wear that black slip dressâthe one you wore to Jennaâs party? You looked so good in that.â
And all you could mutter in response was a short hum along with a smile.
â˘
The following days were as normal as they couldâve been. Well, aside from the fact that he has suddenly been everywhere.
At first, it was subtle.
A glimpse of him through the glass-paneled door of the editing lab, leaning over a studentâs shoulder.
The sound of his voice drifting down the hallwayâlow, smooth, impossible to mistake.
Then you saw him again, this time in the courtyard. Talking to a group from the business department, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee he barely drank from.
Word spread quickly.
âI thought he took most of his classes online?â someone whispered nearby.
âHe does. No one ever sees him around.â
âThen whyâs he here now?â
âWho knows? Maybe to complete his last courses before graduation?â
âHeâs a business major, right?â
âYeah, but like⌠old money business. Scary smart. The kind that makes you nervous to breathe too loud.â
You kept your head down, but your pulse never quite stayed still.
Because every time you caught sight of him, he never once looked your wayâ
And yet, you felt his presence like it was stitched into the fabric of your day.
He was too composed. Too polished. Too calculated.
And somehow, his silence was louder than if heâd cornered you outright.
âJust a mistake,â you mumble to yourself each time you see his figure waltz by.
But your quiet whispers to calm your nerves didnât prove to be a very sustainable method.
Not when the universe seems hellbent on rubbing it in.
You see them together.
Once in the corridor outside the media buildingâher laugh echoing off the walls, his hand casually in his pocket, head tilted down to hear her better. They walk side by side, their pace easy, unhurried.
Michaela looks effortless next to himâbright-eyed, golden, her hand brushing his arm as she says something that makes him smile.
Not his usual smirk. Not the quiet, condescending curve of his mouth he wore like armor.
You stop in your tracks.
Just for a second.
Long enough for Michaela to spot you.
She waves. Cheerful. Unbothered. âHey babe!â
He followed her gaze and landed on you. The smile on his lips curls up a little higher as you meet his eyes.
âHello,â amusement coats his voice.
âHiââ
âIâm probably not going to be free today for our usual hangouts,â Michaela cuts in, turning to you with an apologetic pout. âI asked Sylus to help with some of my work⌠You can hang out with Caleb by yourself, right?â
Before you can answer, she adds with a dramatic sigh, âPlease tell him to chill and that Iâm fineâjust really busy. Heâs been blowing up my phone non-stop these days.â
You force a smile, nodding once. âYeah. Of course.â
She beams, already tugging Sylus further down the hall.
He casts one last glance your way.
A flicker of something in his eyesâteasing, sharp, unreadable.
As soon as youâre left standing there, caught in the space between their footsteps and your silence, your phone buzzes.
You glance down,
Caleb [4:28 PM]: where are you
Caleb [4:28 PM]: arent we having dinner today
Caleb [4:28 PM]: are you with her? sheâs not answering my texts
Your stomach tightens.
You can still hear Michaelaâs laughter fading around the corner, Sylusâs low voice murmuring something back.
Caleb [4:29 PM]: nvm
Caleb [4:29 PM]: iâll find you myself
You donât even remember agreeing to it.
One minute youâre reading Calebâs texts with a pit in your stomach, the next heâs striding up to you outside the lecture hallâjaw tense, eyes scanning over your shoulder like heâs half-expecting Michaela to appear.
âSheâs with him, isnât she?â he asks, no greeting, voice clipped.
You blink. âCalebââ
His expression shifts. He exhales, scrubs a hand through his hair, and forces a smile.
âWhatever,â he says, eyes softening as they settle on you. âDoesnât matter. Youâre here.â
And just like that, the edge in his voice fades.
âCome on,â he says, nudging your shoulder. âIâm starving. Letâs go grab something before I start chewing my own arm off.â
You hesitate for half a second, but heâs already walking ahead, glancing back to make sure you follow.
â˘
Dinner ends up being at this tiny place tucked behind the arts buildingâwarm lighting, mismatched chairs, the kind of quiet hum that makes everything feel a little softer.
You sit across from him, arms tucked against your chest, still a little shell-shocked from everything.
He notices.
âYouâve been doing that thing again,â he says between bites. âWhere your brain goes somewhere else and forgets to take your body with it.â
You snort. âAnd what thing are you doing right now?â
He leans back, exaggeratedly smug. âBeing charming and irresistible, obviously.â
You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifts. Just a little.
When your food arrives, he pushes his plate toward you with a quiet, âTry this. Itâs better than yours.â
You glance at him, suspicious. âYou havenât even tasted mine.â
He grins. âExactly. Thatâs how confident I am.â
Itâs silly. Stupid, even. But it helps. The knot in your chest loosens just enough to let a small laugh slip out.
And thenâjust as youâre mid-biteâhis voice softens.
âHey.â
You look up.
His eyes are steady now. No teasing. No act.
âI never really got the chance to say it properly,â he murmurs. âAbout what happened at the filming set. That night. Everything.â
The clinking of cutlery fades around you.
âI was inconsiderate,â he says. âI thought too little. Acted too harsh. â
He looks down at his hands for a moment. âI overlooked your feelings. And I hurt you more than I meant to.â
You donât know what to say.
So you just watch him as he finally lifts his gaze again, softer now. Warmer.
âI guess what Iâm trying to say is⌠Iâm sorry.â
The air between you stills.
âCanât say I really enjoyed the stunt you pulled though,â he jokes.
The dinner continues quietlyâless heavy now, more like the old rhythm you used to share with him. Caleb cracks a few jokes, pokes fun at your serious face, and makes exaggerated guesses about the lives of people at nearby tables. You end up laughing more than you expected to.
Then, as you gather your things to leave, he tilts his head toward you with a mischievous glint.
âOne drink?â he asks. âThereâs this quiet place nearby. They make the worst cocktails Iâve ever had in my life. Thought youâd like it.â
You roll your eyes. âSounds irresistible.â
He grins. âExactly.â
The bar turns out to be this cozy hole-in-the-wall tucked behind a bookstore, dimly lit with string lights that look like theyâve been up since 2003. Thereâs an old piano in the corner no one plays, and the bartender greets Caleb like heâs a regularâwhich is both comforting and mildly concerning.
The musicâs soft. The booths are deep and worn-in. And somehow, the world feels smaller here.
Caleb orders for both of you, raising a brow at you across the table. âJust trust me.â
You donât. But you drink it anyway.
âYouâre smiling,â he points out, pleased with himself.
You arch a brow. âMust be the worst cocktail Iâve ever had in my life.â
He lifts his glass. âTo consistent branding.â
You clink glasses, laughter warm between you.
The kind of warmth that sneaks up on youâgentle, nostalgic, easy.
And then, somewhere between the second and third drink, he leans back, eyes softer now, his playful edge melting at the corners.
âYou know,â he starts, swirling whatâs left of his drink. âI donât really remember what my parents look like anymore.â
You glance over at him.
âYou donât talk about your family much,â you say gently.
He lets out a breath. It couldâve been a laugh.
âDonât really have one,â he says. âNot really.â
He lifts the glass to his lips, but doesnât drink. Just rests it there, like he needs something to hold on to.
âThankfully, Michaelaâs took me in,â he continues. âThankfullyâŚâ he repeats, quieter this time.
Your mood sours from the mention of her name. Of course she would be mentioned.
âShe has always been sick since she was a kid. âCause of her bad heart.â
You stay quiet. Let him keep going.
Something in his voice says he needs to.
âItâs always been my responsibility to keep her safe,â he says, almost like heâs reminding himself. âSince we were kids.â
His fingers drum against the glass, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
âAnd whenever I failed to do so⌠wellâŚâ he trails off, then smiles, a crooked, breathy thing that doesnât touch his eyes. âIt never really ended very well.â
You feel the weight of those words, the way he tries to tuck pain into them like theyâre just another part of the joke.
âHe used to remind me constantly⌠of my purposeâŚâ Caleb mumbles, his voice slowing, slurring slightly. His words are slipping like his grip on the glassâloose, tired, too worn down to hold on.
You watch his eyes begin to dim, heavy with drink and something much older.
âYouâre too drunk, Caleb,â you say softly, reaching out to steady the glass before it tips.
He blinks at you. Slow. Dazed. And then his lips part, just barely.
âThat Iâm just a strayâŚâ he whispers, almost to himself. âIf no one needs meâŚâ
His gaze unfocuses for a moment. You donât think he even realizes heâs still speaking.
Your breath catches.
Heâs still smiling, faintly, lazily. But itâs the kind of smile that scourches your chest.
You slide your hand across the table, fingers brushing his. He doesnât move.
âYou should go home,â you murmur.
He doesnât answer. Just leans further into his folded arms, the tension in his shoulders finally giving out.
You sigh, quietly.
The bar is warm, the night colder. And somehow, without much thought, you find yourself wrapping his arm around your shoulder, whispering half-hearted complaints as you half-drag, half-guide him out the door.
â˘
The days fly by like leaves lifted off the branches.
Nothing of the past has ever been mentioned ever againâthe few days at the film set, the tense atmosphere between you and Michaela, nor the night Caleb slumped into your shoulder, murmuring half-truths through the haze of cheap liquor and old pain.
Classes resume. Group chats return to life. The cafeteria starts serving that awful tomato soup again. You slip back into the rhythm like nothing happened.
But the cracks are still thereâjust beneath the surface, waiting.
Youâre sitting under the shade of a banyan tree behind the humanities building. Itâs quiet, peaceful, a little breezy. Your lunch is balanced on your lap, half-eaten. Michaela plops down beside you with a soft âughâ and a dramatic stretch.
âGod,â Michaela says brightly, appearing at your side like she always doesâseamlessly, like a breath of perfume. âHeâs actually so funny once you get him to talk.â
You glance at her. âWho?â
She tilts her head, playful. âSylus,â she says, drawing the name out. âHeâs been helping me prep for the Q&A tomorrow. Said I needed to sound less âpageantâ and more âvisionary.â Whatever that means.â
Her laugh is breezy. Too light.
âOh?â you respond, forcing a smile. âSounds like youâre getting close.â
âOh, itâs nothing serious,â she says quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. âCoffee here, late-night notes there. Heâs just soâŚâ She trails off, eyes sparkling. âInteresting, donât you think?â
You hum. Noncommital.
Michaela doesnât seem to noticeâor pretends not to.
She takes a sip of her drink, then suddenly perks up. âOh! The premiereâs this Saturday. Are you ready?â
You blink. âReady forâŚ?â
âThe spotlight, duh,â she grins, nudging your arm. âTo see yourself on screen, see the scenes you played in come together with the background music. And to see your name in the closing credit!â
You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile. âItâs not that serious.â
âIt is,â she insists. âYou looked amazing, even in the trailer. You carried that cafĂŠ scene.â
You snort. âI said four words.â
âYeah, but you felt those four words. I almost cried.â
You laugh together, and for a secondâit feels real. Familiar. Like the last few weeks never happened.
âHave you picked an outfit yet?â she asks between bites of salad.
You shake your head. âWas just gonna wear something simple.â
Michaela gasps. âNo. Youâre not walking into an indie theater full of film nerds in âsomething simple.â You have to look effortless. Like youâre not trying, but also like⌠if you were trying, youâd end worlds.â
You glance at her, raising a brow. âThat specific, huh?â
âAlways,â she says, eyes sparkling.
And for a moment, itâs just the two of you.
Two girls beneath a tree, laughing about dresses and dumb film boys and the weight of appearances.
It feels soft. Safe. Like how things used to be.
And it hits you with a quiet ache.
Because even now, part of you still wants to believe this friendship can survive whatâs been done.
That maybe you havenât already burned the bridge.
That maybeâjust maybeâshe hasnât noticed the match in your hand.
The rest of the week passes in quiet, deliberate steps.
Classes blur. The campus grows louder, buzzing with exams and end-of-semester deadlines. Your name gets tagged once or twice in the group chatâreminders about call times, wardrobe, a blurry meme of someone joking about crying during the Q&A.
You try on outfits with Michaela after class, like you promised.
Itâs surprisingly normalâher room filled with scattered hangers, half-empty iced coffees, the faint sound of a playlist humming from her speaker.
You laugh. You bicker. You twirl.
And thenâSaturday arrives.
The day of the premiere.
Itâs just past golden hour when you step out of your building, the sky painted in soft streaks of lavender and orange. The air is crisp. The kind that wakes you up and reminds you somethingâs about to happen.
The old theatre on 12th is just as Michaela described itâsmall, a little run-down, with velvet seats that creak and a marquee that flickers every other letter.
Thereâs already a crowd forming outside. Film kids in too-large blazers and thrifted dresses, professors dressed semi-formal but too cool to act like it, and the crewâall wide-eyed and excited, passing around programs and laughter.
The theater glows in the soft spill of marquee lights, buzzing faintly overhead as you approach, clutching your clutch tighter than necessary.
The car pulls up just as you step onto the red-carpeted pavement.
And then you see her.
Michaela steps out first, the silk of her silver dress catching the light like water. It slips over her frame effortlesslyâcool-toned and reflective, like moonlight turned human. Her lips are painted a soft coral, her eyes dusted with shimmer, and her smileâbright, unbothered, breathtakingâlands like a punch to the chest.
Then comes Caleb.
He unfolds from the car in slow, unhurried movements, sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows beneath a tailored blazer, the collar unbuttoned just enough to suggest trouble. His hair is slicked back, not too perfect, and a hint of cologne catches the air as he leans slightly toward Michaela, saying something close to her ear.
You feel it instantlyâthe pull. The heat.
They look like they stepped off a magazine spread. Like theyâre here to be looked at. Owned it. Earned it.
Your stomach twists.
But then her eyes find yours.
âYn!â Michaela beams the second she sees you, waving you over like the oldest friend in the world. Her voice cuts through the crowd with effortless warmth. âYou look stunning! Oh my God!â
You force a smile, walking toward her as she reaches out and takes your hand for a brief spin. âSee? I told you that dress was the one. Absolutely gorgeous.â
âThanks,â you murmur.
Calebâs gaze drifts lazily toward you. His eyes widen slightly, just for a secondâsubtle, but there. And then that crooked, lazy smile of his crawls up his face like heâs trying not to let it show too much.
âDamn,â he mutters under his breath, voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the soft chatter of the crowd. âYou do look good today, shortcake.â
You donât turn to look at him. You donât smile. But your pulse stutters anyway.
Inside, the lights are low and flickering, casting everyone in gold.
You find your seats near the front.
You sit first.
Then Michaela slips in beside you, smoothing the back of her dress.
Then Calebâhis thigh brushing against hers, jacket folding as he slouches back with that usual too-cool ease.
And thenâ
An empty seat. Reserved with a single placard.
SYLUS QIN
You stare at it for a second too long.
The serif font. The clean white card. The space he hasnât filled.
People slowly fill the theatre, and the chatter dies down as soon as the introducing speech starts. Cheers and laughter are exchanged as the producer welcomes everyone, and soon, lights begin to dim, the hush rippling through the room like a spell settling.
The first flicker of light sears across your visionâtoo bright, too sudden. You blink, disoriented.
The grainy opening shot bleeds onto the walls, painting everyone in uneven strobes of white and shadow. Your hands curl into the fabric of your dress.
Then you hear your voice.
Just a small line, off-screen. But it makes your throat tighten.
And then youâre there. You.
A glimpse of your face on cameraâtoo quick, too exposed.
Your stomach flips. A cold rush spreads down your back. You shrink into your seat without meaning to.
The flickering continuesâscenes switching with sharp cuts, too fast, too loud. Your eyes strain to follow. The glow of the screen presses against your skin like heat.
You feel it in your temples. In the base of your skull.
A thrum. A pressure.
You try to breathe slower.
But there you are again.
In the corner of the frame. Behind Michaelaâs shoulder. Walking across the background, smiling as she delivers a perfect monologue.
Youâre always thereâbut never really there.
Never centered. Never seen.
Just enough to anchor the shot.
Never enough to be remembered.
Your heart races faster.
You glance sidewaysâMichaela is watching intently, chin tilted just so, the soft rise and fall of her breathing unbothered. Her hand rests lightly on Calebâs arm.
You try to focus on the screen, but the lights are too much now. The images change too quickly. Your skin feels hot. The sound dips and rises, warping in your ears. Laughter in the film echoes strangely, like itâs bouncing around inside your chest instead of the room.
You swallow down the tightness clawing its way up your throat.
Breathe.
You stare at your knees. At your folded hands.
The screen flashes white againâanother cut. Another shot of Michaela framed in golden light, eyes brimming with perfectly timed tears.
And just behind her, out of focusâyour figure. Barely lit. Barely there.
You curl your fingers into your dress and force yourself to stay still.
Because if you moveâif you flinch, if you breathe too loudâitâll feel too real.
Like this isnât just a movie. Like your position in the film is just as it is in real life.
Your breath hitches.
Get through this. Just get through this.
But the room feels too full. Your lungs too tight. Your face too visible under the flickering screenlight.
So, with quivering hands, you quickly excuse yourself out quietly, muttering a soft âI need to use the toilet,â to Michaela.
Your fingers brush her arm as you squeeze past, knees knocking against the velvet seat in front of you.
You donât look at Caleb.
You donât dare.
The moment you reach the aisle, you bolt.
The darkness of the theater presses in from all sides, but the exit sign glows redâblessedly real, blessedly distant from the version of you being projected for everyone else to see.
You push through the heavy doors.
Out into the hallway.
Into the quiet.
Itâs cooler out here. Dimmer. The hum of the projector muffled by layers of walls.
And still, your hands shake.
Your chest heaves.
You press your back against the corridor and squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to breathe again.
To stop hearing the lines you spoke, the laugh that wasnât yours, the way you stood just out of frame.
You werenât supposed to matter.
You werenât supposed to be seen.
But seeing yourself just thatâseeing yourself as nothing more than a narrative deviceâknocks all air out of your lungs.
And so you do what you do best in situations like these.
You walk.
Down the corridor. Past posters for old plays and peeling signs pointing to locked rehearsal rooms. The soft clink of your heels echoes against the concrete, sharp and rhythmic, the only sound in the hush that follows you.
Left. Then right.
You take the stairwell without thinkingâsomething about the way the door hangs open, waiting.
Up.
One flight. Two.
Youâre not counting. Youâre not really anywhere.
Just moving.
The final door gives with a groan.
And thenâopen air.
The rooftop is quiet. Dimly lit by a few tired bulbs and the soft haze of city lights glowing from below. The wind brushes past your cheeks, tugging at the hem of your dress, the strands of your hair.
You inhale slowlyâdeeply.
The air fills your lungs and doesnât choke. For the first time tonight, your chest doesnât feel so tight.
You hug your arms around yourself, rubbing warmth into your skin as you move toward the edge of the rooftop. The wind tangles softly in your hair. The quiet is heavier than silenceâitâs soothing. Honest.
The sounds of the premiere, the echoes of your lines, the weight of Michaelaâs smile, Calebâs lingering glancesâall of it stays behind those concrete walls.
But the moment your shoulders finally dropâthe tension unwinding from your spine like thread pulled too tightâ
a voice slices through the quiet.
âThe movie boring?â
You jolt.
And there he is.
Leaning lazily against the railing at the far edge of the rooftop, one hand resting in the pocket of his black slacks, the other loosely curled around a cigarette he hasnât lit. The wind toys with the edges of his shirt, untucked and open at the collar, the soft fabric fluttering just enough to hint at the warmth beneath.
His silver hairâbright even under the dull rooftop lightsâshifts with the breeze, strands falling across his forehead in that effortless way that should be illegal. The city glows behind him, casting shadows across the hard angles of his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His eyes catch yours beneath long lashes, amused, unreadable.
He doesnât move.
He doesnât need to.
Just the sight of himâcalm, crooked smile in place, posture loose like heâs got nowhere to be and nothing to proveâpulls something taut inside you all over again.
Sylus Qin.
Looking like trouble sculpted in moonlight.
And you walked straight into it.
Your voice stumbles out, more breath than word.
âWhat are you doing here?â
He doesnât answer right away. Just tips his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in that infuriatingly slow, unreadable way of his.
âDidnât realize rooftops were exclusively yours now.â
His voice is quiet but laced with amusement, like heâs already enjoying how thrown off you are. The wind picks up, tousling the silver strands of his hair. He doesnât fix them. Just leans back against the railing again like this is his space now. Like youâve wandered into his scene.
âI could ask you the same thing,â he adds, gaze settling on you. âDidnât strike me as the type to abandon your own premiere.â
Your jaw tightens. âItâs not my premiere.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, eyes glinting. âYou were in almost every shot. That little background smile of yours really carried the emotional arc.â
You shoot him a glare. He shrugs.
âRelax,â he says, voice dipping just enough to make your skin prickle. âIâm just making conversation.â
And then, without breaking eye contact, he pulls the cigarette back out from his pocketâlike he knew exactly when to use it for effect.
You watch as he rolls it between his fingers, slow and practiced, before slipping it between his lips. His eyes flick downward, shadowed beneath dark lashes, as he flicks the lighter.
A soft click.
A brief spark.
Then flame.
He cups the light with one hand, shielding it from the wind, the gesture intimate in its precision. The flame catches the edge of the cigarette, a quick sizzle, and then a curl of smoke unfurls between his lips as he leans backâhead tilted, silver hair brushing the collar of his jacket.
He exhales through parted lips.
Smoke spills from his mouth in a lazy stream, rising into the night air.
And for a moment, the whole rooftop smells like sin.
You swallow. Hard.
Because it shouldnât look that good.
No one should look that good doing something so simple.
But he makes it look like poetry wrapped in gasoline.
Dangerous. Beautiful. Impossible to look away from.
He glances sideways, catching your gazeâthen smirks around the cigarette.
âWhat?â he says, smoke curling past his teeth. âYou want one?â
You ignore his question as you cross the distance between you with quiet steps, heels clicking softly against the rooftop floor, until youâre beside him.
Close, but not touching.
You lean forward onto the railing, elbows braced, eyes fixed on the world below. The city stretches beneath youâcars like fireflies, neon signs blinking against concrete, life spilling in all directions.
âHeard youâre pretty close to Michaela these days.â
Words slip out of your mouth before you could stop themâcarried off too quickly by the breeze.
Sylus doesnât respond right away. Just takes another drag, eyes still on the skyline, unreadable behind the soft glow of the city lights and the rising smoke.
âIs that what people are saying?â he asks, voice low, like heâs half-amused, half-bored.
You glance sideways at him, but his expression doesnât shift.
âSheâs been⌠talking,â you murmur.
He exhales slowly, smoke curling from the corner of his lips. âYeah. She does that.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. The kind that leaves your thoughts too loud.
âShe seems to like you,â you add, keeping your voice light. âSays youâre funny. Helpful.â
His gaze finally cuts to you, slow and sharp. An eyebrow arches. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips.
âYou sound jealous,â he says, voice dipped in something darker. Teasing. Dangerous.
Your breath falters.
âIâm not.â
He hums, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, he turnsâjust slightlyâenough to face you, enough to make you feel it.
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, voice barely above the wind.
He leans in, just a bit. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that the air between you shifts.
âI mean⌠if you wanted my attention,â his eyes drag slowly down your face, âyou didnât have to bring her up to get it.â
You blink. Hard.
The smirk deepens. He takes one last drag from the cigarette, flicks it to the side, and exhalesâ
Right past your shoulder, warm and slow, like it was deliberate.
Then he turns back toward the railing, arms resting casually as if he didnât just turn your pulse inside out.
âRelax,â he says again, voice smooth and cruelly amused. âIâm just making conversation.â
âFuck you and your conversations.â
âLanguage, princess.â
The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and smug, like he enjoys your bite more than he should.
He doesnât look at you when he speaks nextâjust watches the lights below with that lazy, unreadable calm.
âThe dealâs still on, by the way,â he says, almost offhand. âI donât usually hold my deals this long.â
Your breath catchesâbut you donât answer. Not immediately.
Instead, eyes still fixed on the city, you ask quietly,
âWhatâs it like?â
He glances sideways.
âTo smoke,â you murmur, voice soft against the wind. âWhat does it feel like?â
That catches him off guard.
His smirk fades into something quieterâstill sharp, but thoughtful.
He straightens a little, resting his elbows on the railing, eyes narrowed at the skyline like heâs remembering something he canât touch anymore.
âItâs⌠warm,â he says eventually. âFirst few seconds burn. Then itâs just heat in your chest. Makes everything a little slower. A little duller.â
He glances at you again, eyes shadowed beneath silver strands.
âYouâd hate it.â
And then, softerâ
âYouâd get addicted.â
You glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. âThat confident, huh?â
His smile returns, crooked and slow.
âAlways.â
Thenâwithout looking awayâhe reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack again, taps it once against his palm.
âWanna try?â
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
The rooftop wind brushes your skin. The lights below blur like youâre not quite grounded anymore.
ââŚOkay,â you say finally, barely above a whisper. âSure.â
His gaze lingers on you for a breath longer than it shouldâsharp, slow, searching.
Then, with practiced ease, he slips the cigarette between his lips, flicks the lighter, and inhales. The tip glows ember-red. Smoke curls around his face like it belongs there.
He steps closer.
Not fast. Not aggressive. Just⌠inevitable.
Until your backs are no longer parallel, but aligned.
Until his body is angled toward yours, his hand brushing the railing beside your arm.
Then he exhalesâslow, steadyâup into the air first, just to show you how.
And before your thoughts can catch up, before your pulse even finds a rhythm, his hand slides around your jaw. Gentle, but certain. Fingers curling under your chin, tipping your face up to his.
âOpen,â he murmurs.
And you do.
He leans inâcloser, closer still.
Not to kiss. Not yet.
His mouth hovers just a hairâs breadth from yours, and thenâ
He exhales.
Smoke floods from his lungs into yours, warm and heady and tasting like fire and him.
It hits you all at onceâyour lips parted against his, the heat of his breath rolling into your mouth, your chest, your nerves. Your hands grip the railing behind you, fingers curling tight.
And just as your knees begin to weaken, just as the smoke begins to burnâ
His lips press to yours.
Not soft.
Not tentative.
Itâs full, hungry contactâheat and pressure and something sharp beneath the surface. He kisses you like youâre something he earned. Like he knew this was coming the moment you stepped onto that rooftop.
And god, you let him.
His hand slips from your jaw to your throat, thumb resting lightly just beneath your pulse. You feel it hammering there, wild and fast. He deepens the kiss, mouth coaxing yours open further, tongue tracing the edge of your bottom lip like a tease, like a challenge.
You kiss him back.
Harder. Needier. Like youâve been holding it in.
Like youâre finally letting go.
The smoke lingers between you. In your mouth. Your chest. The heat of it coils through your veins, makes the moment feel reckless, dangerous, electric.
When he finally pulls away, just barely, your lips are still partedâstill chasing after him.
And Sylusâ
Heâs already smirking.
âTold you,â he breathes, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
âYouâd get addicted.â
Your breath comes shallow. Foggy. Like youâre drunkâfrom the smoke. From him.
From the way his voice sits too low in your stomach, too warm in your throat.
You blink, dazed. âWhat the fuck was that?â
He laughsâlow, rich, and dizzying.
âStill want to call it a mistake?â
You donât answer. Canât.
Not with the nicotine still curling in your lungs. Not with his breath still ghosting yours.
Maybe itâs the way the air thins between you again.
Maybe itâs the flush that rises to your cheeks when you look up at him and realize he hasnât stepped back this time.
Or maybe itâs just that dangerous cocktail of heat and haze and the taste of sin still lingering on your tongue.
âI think,â you whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth, âyou didnât teach it properly.â
His gaze sharpens. That smirk falters, just for a secondâenough to show the hunger underneath.
âOh?â he breathes.
You nod. Barely.
He leans in. Slowly. Purposefully.
His hand grazes your waist, his breath brushing your lipsâand just when you think heâs going to kiss you againâ
He pulls back.
Barely an inch. Just enough to keep you chasing.
His smirk returns, lazier this time. Meaner.
âDidnât think youâd beg so soon,â he murmurs.
You glare. âI didnât beg.â
âMm,â he hums, dragging a finger along your jaw, âNot yet.â
Thenâfinallyâhe kisses you.
But itâs slower now. Crueler.
His mouth moves with calculated ease, like heâs studying you. Like he wants to see how long you can last with the tension stretched this thin.
He barely gives you what you wantâjust enough heat to make your knees unsteady, just enough pressure to make you lean in.
When your hand fists in his shirt, tugging him closer, he lets out a quiet laugh against your lips.
âImpatient,â he mutters, and you feel itâlow and hotâright in your throat.
And then he deepens the kiss.
Because he knows youâre done pretending you donât want it.
And heâs done pretending he doesnât love watching you unravel.
But in the middle of it allâhis fingers sliding under your shirt, your hands fisted in the back of his hair, breaths shared like secretsâ
It hits you.
A crack of clarity.
Sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze.
You pull back.
Not far, but enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to speak.
âWhy are you doing this?â
His brows knit, just slightly. You feel the shift in him, the quiet tension settling beneath the heat.
You keep going. You have to.
âWhat will you get out of the deal?â
Your voice is low, but steady. The question tastes bitter in your mouthâmaybe because youâve been trying to pretend it didnât matter.
But it does. It always did.
He watches you, smoke still clinging to his breath, his thumb pausing on your skin.
And for a moment, he doesnât answer.
Like heâs deciding what version of the truth to give you.
Like heâs debating if youâve earned it.
He fully pulls away, the warmth of his body gone in an instant.
You watch as he straightens his spine, smooths down his collar with one hand, runs the other through his wind-tousled silver hairâlike heâs putting his armor back on. Like he needs the distance again.
âIâm not playing games,â he says.
His voice is low. Still sharp, but thereâs something underneath now. Not heat. Not flirtation.
Something older. Quieter. Worn.
You cross your arms, still catching your breath. âThen what is this?â
He pauses.
You see the flicker in his eyesâa calculation, a hesitation. The part of him that always weighs what to say and what to bury.
Then his lips tug into that same maddening smirk.
âYouâre just really pitiful,â he says, voice lazy with mock sympathy.
Your brows shoot up. âExcuse me?â
âKind of like someone I knew,â he continues, like he didnât just insult you to your face. His tone is still light, but something about the way he says itâtoo casual, too preciseâmakes you freeze.
He doesnât elaborate right away. Just glances down at the city lights below, cigarette smoldering between his fingers again.
He takes one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it over the edge, watching the ember fall like a dying star.
Then he turns back to youâsmirk faded now, voice lower, rougher. Real.
âLetâs just sayââ he begins, eyes locking with yours,
âyou get to use me to get whatever you wantâŚâ
A pause. A slow step closer.
âAnd Iâll use you to get whatever I want.â
He lets the silence stretch between you, lets the weight of the words hang there like smoke.
âSounds fair?â
You donât answer right away.
You just stand thereâwind tousling your hair, the taste of smoke still clinging faintly to your lipsâwatching him.
Watching the way he doesnât push.
Doesnât ask again.
Just lets the offer hang in the air like a match waiting to be struck.
Your thoughts spiralâthrough the flickers of the film, the ache in your chest as you watched yourself play the shadow, Michaelaâs bright voice, Calebâs wandering gaze, Sylusâs mouth on yours, the weight of his hands, the things he said.
And the worst part?
The way all of it made you feel alive again.
Like something inside you had finally stirred.
Like you were tired of being careful. Tired of being quiet. Tired of waiting for someone else to hand you the pen to your own story.
You draw in a breath, meet his eyes.
âFine,â you say, soft but steady.
âIâm in.â
His smile is slow. Pleased. Like he already knew.
But he says nothing. Just nods once and turns to leave, hands in his pockets, silver hair catching the rooftop light.
You donât stop him.
You stay there for a moment longer, listening to the echo of your own heartbeat.
And when the rooftop door clicks shut behind himâ
Youâre still tasting sin.
Still thinking about the deal you just made.
And wondering who, in the end, will really get what they want.
âźď¸Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!
Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for himâeven when you know youâre just a stand-in, a place holder.
âI bet you still thought of me.â
song: party 4 u by charlie xcx [this song has been the main inspiration for this series, so whatever you feel listening go this song, i hope youâll feel that while reading this series as well]
word count = 9.6k
i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over <3
i cant say im proud of this chapter, and tbh theres so much i hate about this part, but if i dont post this right now, i dont think i ever will, so please be kind, but i appreciate constructive criticisms! if this part felt unsatisfactory, just pretend this update didnt happen lol
ps. thank you so much for over 1k followers??? heres a thousand roses for all of you đđš
part 1 | masterlist
The door creaks open.
The closetâs darkness slips away, replaced by blinding light and loud cheers.
But everything feels distant.
Your breaths are shallow. The warmth of his breath still clings to your skin, the ghost of his lips a lingering echo. His touchâstill branded into your waist, your jaw, the hollow between your ribs. Your pulse hasnât settled.
The air outside is cool, but your skin burns.
You stumble slightly as you step out, Sylus behind youâhis shirt rumpled, one button undone. His silver hair is tousled, a little too messy. Your lips sting. You know you look wrecked.
And the crowd eats it up. Whoops and whistles explode around you.
You try to smile. You try to breathe.
But then your eyes land on him.
Caleb.
Heâs across the room, half-lit by the cheap string lights, drink forgotten in his hand. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadableâexcept for his eyes.
They are cold.
Piercing.
Itâs not anger. Itâs like heâs looking right through youâlike youâve somehow ruined something sacred. Like youâre the disappointment.
Your chest tightens.
And then, just behind him, you catch a flash of movement.
MC.
Her head is down, hair shielding her face, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she brushes past him, shouldering her way through the crowd.
Caleb snaps out of his trance in a heartbeat. His face shiftsâconcern overtaking scornâas he calls after her and follows without hesitation.
And just like every time before, he doesnât even spare you a second glance.
The cheers fade into static. Laughter turns tinny and distant, swallowed by the ringing in your ears.
It hits you all at once.
The heat. The mess. The press of Sylusâs body against yours. The way you leaned into it. The way you wanted to. The way you let yourself.
And thenâMCâs face. Her voice. Her smile when she told you heâs kinda cute, isnât he?
Guilt slams into you like a car.
It punches the breath from your lungs.
You feel it in your throat, acidic and raw, threatening to spill. A sickening twist coils in your stomach, bile licking at the edges of your tongue.
What have you done?
What did you just let happen?
Your skin crawls. The warmth you felt seconds ago now feels wrongâdisgusting. It clings to you like smoke. Like shame.
You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the nausea curling up your chest.
Sylus says something beside you, low and teasing, but you donât catch the words.
All you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears.
And all you can feel is the weight of what youâve just done. The taste of it. Bitter. Burning.
And the worst part?
You donât even know who youâre more disgusted withâCalebâŚ
Or yourself.
You donât wait for the whispers.
You donât wait to see if MC turns back or if Caleb says anything at all.
You push through the crowd, pulse hammering in your throat, lungs clawing for air like thereâs not enough oxygen in the room, not enough space in your ribs for this many feelings, this much shame.
The door slams shut behind you but itâs not enough.
Not enough to drown out the ghost of Sylusâs hands still on your waist. Not enough to erase the memory of his mouth against yours, hot and unbothered and too real.
Not enough to wipe away the scowl in Calebâs eyes or the way MC couldnât even look at you.
The night is too loud. The world is too close. Everythingâeverythingâis pressing in on you.
So you push everything out of your way, scouring to find air.
You donât think, donât breathe, just bolt down the steps of the villa, sandals slapping against stone, the wind catching in your hair, stinging your eyes, stealing your balance. You donât care.
The beach calls to you like a goddamn siren.
You trip onto the sand, knees buckling, breath shaking, heart feral in your chest like itâs trying to break out and leave you behind. You tear your heels off, toss them somewhere youâll never find again, and march straight toward the water like it might wash you clean.
The ocean crashes louder than your thoughts.
Salt fills your nose. Wind tangles in your hair. The stars above are too bright, mocking. Too calm for the storm splitting your insides apart.
You drop to your knees at the shoreline, water licking at your calves, seeping into your clothes, and you let it. You need it. You need the cold. You need the sting. You need to feel something real.
Because everything in your chest is twisted. Twisted and wrong and out of place.
You lean forward, pressing your forehead against your knees, breathing like each inhale might keep you from unraveling completely. You wish it were just the alcohol. Just a mistake. Just a hazy memory you could laugh off tomorrow.
But you remember it too clearly.
His mouth. The weight of his gaze in the dark. The way his hand didnât hesitate when it slid against your jaw, when he leaned in like heâd been waiting to taste you all night.
And you let him.
Worseâyou wanted it.
The thought turns your stomach. You dig your fingers deeper into the wet sand, nails scraping at the earth, like maybe you can bury the part of you thatâs smiling.
Because sheâs there.
Somewhere inside youâbeneath the nausea, beneath the shameâthereâs a version of you curled up, smug and satisfied. A version who watched MCâs face twist, who watched Calebâs scowl turn cold, and felt nothing but satisfaction.
That part of you is smiling.
You hate her.
Because that part of youâthe one that enjoyed itâsheâs been quiet for a long time. Always biting her tongue, always watching from the corners while MC took the spotlight, while Caleb gave his warmth to someone else. You taught her to wait. To be kind. To be better.
But god, youâre tired.
Tired of twinkling for people who never look up long enough to see you. Tired of being loved only in partsâwhen youâre easy, when youâre quiet, when youâre beautiful and harmless.
Youâve always been the supporting character in everyone elseâs story. The best friend. The comic relief. The tragic footnote.
So tonight, you wanted to be the villain.
So tonight, she let herself out.
You let her kiss him.
You let her drag Sylus into that closet and tilt your chin up with a smile that begged âruin me if you want to.â
And she did.
Now here you are, buried in the sand and sea, trying to figure out if the guilt eating at you is heavier than the satisfaction still curling at the edge of your lips.
Youâre not supposed to feel this way.
Youâre not supposed to want to be seen like that. Wanted like that.
Not at the cost of MC. Not at the cost of Calebâs crumbling expression.
But you do.
You wanted them to see. You wanted to be wanted. And for a secondâyou finally were.
And for that, you are repenting your sins, kneeling by the shore and letting the cold eat you whole.
The tide rushes in again, crashing against your skin.
You raise your head, throat raw, eyes burning.
You sit there, watching the waves hit and retreat, over and over, counting the sparkling stars reflected on the ocean surface, until you could not feel your feet.
This is your way of atoningâbecause you fear the girl curled up inside you, biting on her nails every time a tear threatens to fall. Because the damage she has done once you let her out for a fraction of a moment is irreversible. Collateral.
And because you canât promise this will be the last time you let her out.
You finally return to your room, dread curling tight in your chest like a vice. Each step down the hallway feels heavier than the last, your body moving on autopilot, mind spiraling with possibilities.
You hesitate at the door. Fingers resting on the knob. You arenât sure what youâre bracing for.
An angry Michaela?
A tear-streaked Michaela?
A cold, distant Michaela who wonât even look you in the eye?
You donât know which would be worse.
The knob turns with a quiet click, the door creaking open. You take a breathâslow, bracingâand step inside.
Empty.
The room is quiet. Still.
Her suitcase remains tucked in the corner. A half-drunk bottle of water sits on the bedside table. The lights are off, the curtains drawn. Not a trace of her. Not even the ghost of footsteps.
Somehow, itâs worse than yelling.
You stand there for a moment, motionless, caught in the heavy weight of nothingness.
Then your phone buzzes.
MC [02:46 AM]: Had to clear my head. Be back later.
Short. Punctuated. Not cold, but definitely not warm either.
And with that, youâre left alone.
Surrounded by silence.
Sinking into it.
You sit on the edge of the bed, heart thrumming against your ribs.
You should feel relieved.
You grip the edge of the mattress tighter.
You should be thankful the confrontation didnât happen yet.
But all you feel is this crawling unease.
Like the silence is just the eye of the storm.
And when she comes backâ
Youâre not sure which version of Michaela youâll meet.
And worseâyouâre not sure which version of you sheâll find.
You get changed and crawl under the covers, body heavy, soul heavier. The silence is your only companionâthick, choking, unforgiving. You bury yourself into the blankets like they could shield you from the weight of what youâve done.
Eventually, exhaustion drags you under.
â˘
Rustling wakes you.
Sharp. Precise. Intentional.
You blink your eyes open, and there she is.
Michaela.
Her back turned to you.
Her suitcase is open on the floor, half-filled. Clothes folded with a neatness that feels hostile.
You sit up slowly, throat dry.
She doesnât look at you, nor say a word.
You rise. Move toward your side of the room. Get ready in silence. The kind of silence that screams.
Every breath feels wrong. Every second, guilt crawls further up your throat, pressing, choking, aching.
You swallow hard, then try to break the weight as you part your mouth to speak.
Your voice is quiet. Fragile.
âMichaela⌠last night, Iââ
Michaela freezes for only a second before she turns around, face already wearing a smile that feels too sharp, too bright.
âWas such a blast! You gotta tell me all about what happened in that closet!â She winks.
âNoâIââ
âDonât think too deeply into it!â She waves her hand casually, like youâd just brought up a funny memory from a party instead of the reason her bag is half-packed. She lets out a breathy laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. âItâs college, Yn. People kiss like, all the time. Itâs nothing.â Her face drops slightly, but returns back to its beaming state. She reaches for your hands, and her voice lowers down. âItâs just a kiss, isn't it?â
A pause.
âY-yeah,â you utter.
Her face beams once more as she squeezes your hands. âBesides, he is a pretty good kisser, isnât he?â
You stare at her. The smile sheâs wearing is dazzlingâcarefully crafted, practiced.
But it doesnât reach her eyes.
And that hurts more than if sheâd screamed at you.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
Eventually, the two of you gather the last of your things and leave the room. You walk side by side, the air between you tight with everything unsaid.
Outside, everyone is saying their goodbyes. Laughter, hugs, last-minute selfies. But none of it touches you. Not really.
You spot Caleb near the car, arms crossed, jaw tight.
He shifts his weight, arms crossed, leaning against the car with that infuriatingly calm expressionâlike heâs been waiting to deliver a blow.
âWell, well,â he drawls, eyes dragging over your form. âEventful night, huh?â
You freeze mid-step.
His tone is light, teasing, even laced with that familiar cocky liltâbut it cuts deeper than any insult. Because you know Caleb. You know exactly when he means it. When the smile on his face is just another weapon.
âHope he was worth the show,â he adds with a smirk. You canât quite get a read on his face, canât really understand whether the smirk is teasing, jabbing, or insulting.
You donât answer. You canât. So you walk past him without a word.
But heâs not done.
He leans in just slightly, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear:
âI bet you still thought of me.â
It hits you like a slap. You donât flinch. You donât give him that satisfaction. But it scorches down your spine, curling into something heavy and sour in your stomach.
All words run dry in your throat.
Because you know you did, and he knows you did.
So, swallowing down the lump in your throat, you quietly climb into the car.
The ride back is a voidâquiet and cold despite the sun that floods through the windows.
Michaela sits in the front, headphones in, eyes fixed outside. Her expression is unreadable, a delicate mask of serenity.
Caleb drives in silence, but the tension in his body betrays him.
His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. The muscle in his jaw ticks every time the car slows.
And yetâdespite everythingâyou still see the way his hand occasionally reaches over to Michaelaâs thigh. Subtle. Familiar. He squeezes gently, reassuringly, every time the silence grows too loud.
You sit in the backseat, hands clenched in your lap, stomach churning, heart clawing at your ribcage.
Because somehow, in this cramped little car filled with silence and ghosts, you still feel like the one who doesnât belong.
â˘
You finally find yourself back in your familiar space.
The door clicks shut behind you.
Shoes off. Bag down. Keys tossed on the counter.
The silence wraps around you, soft and undemanding.
For the first time in days, you breathe without pretending.
You shower, letting the water scald the memory of Michaelaâs laugh off your skin.
You eat something. Actual food. Not alcohol. Not regret.
And for a brief, flickering moment, you start to feel okay again.
Until your phone pings.
A message.
Unknown [6:43 PM]: So?
You freeze.
Every part of you stillsâexcept for your heart, which begins to pound like it remembers the thing youâve tried so hard to forget since last night.
Something forbidden.
Something thrilling.
Something wrong.
The memory comes back in flashes as guilt claws its way up your throat, hot and unrelenting. It tastes like shame.
You stare at the screen until the words blur.
And then, with trembling hands, you type.
You [6:50 PM]: It was a mistake.
You [6:50 PM]: Donât text me again.
You hit send before you can think twice.
Your phone slips from your grip, landing face-down on the bed as you bury your face in your hands.
âIt was a mistake,â you mumbled.
â˘
The following days were the most peaceful ones youâve had in what felt like foreverâquiet, slow, and mercifully uneventful. No parties. No whispered gossip. No sharp glances from Caleb or strained smiles from Michaela. Just the soft hum of routine and the space to finally breathe.
You sleep more. Eat better. Enjoying the lasts of your break. Youâre rebuilding yourself piece by pieceâone uneventful morning at a time.
But the moment you start feeling a little more like yourself, Monday catches up.
The quiet comfort of the break ends the second your feet hit campus tiles. The world spins forward like nothing ever happened.
Michaela acts like nothing ever happened.
She greets you with the same bright smile, the same light giggle, the same affectionate bump of the shoulder. As if that night was just another one of many forgettable college party blurs. As if your lips had never touched Sylusâs. As if her eyes hadnât dulled the second they landed on you.
And you pretend too.
Because itâs easier that way. Safer.
Later that day, she loops her arm through yours as you walk out of class, swinging your hands between you. âLetâs go shopping after lectures? I need a new outfit or something for the first viewing next week,â she beams.
You nod before you can think too hard about it.
âOhââ she adds, with that little flicker in her voice that always precedes something calculated, âI invited Caleb too.â
Your smile doesnât falter, but your stomach twists.
The shopping trip is tolerable at best. Michaela slips into her spotlight with easeâtwirling in front of mirrors, holding up dresses with playful pouts, laughing just a bit too loud at jokes that donât quite land. Caleb sticks close, fingers brushing her waist, whisper her ear when she grins too hard.
But his eyes wander.
You catch him sometimes, gaze flicking to you when Michaela isnât looking. Just for a second. Just enough to leave that same sour taste in your throat.
You donât acknowledge it.
You canât.
Instead, you smile when Michaela pulls you into the dressing room with her. You nod when Caleb asks if youâre tired. You pretend not to notice how her laugh dims a little when he lingers by your side for too long. You go through the motionsâlift the hangers, compliment the colors, offer the safe, neutral opinions youâve mastered so well.
Itâs like muscle memory now. Playing your role.
Because if you donât look too hard, you can almost believe this is normal. That nothingâs changed. That your mouth hadnât betrayed you. That your silence wasnât stitched from guilt.
By the time the sun dips below the skyline and the three of you step out of the store, bags in hand and feigned joy in your lungs, you feel wrung outâdrained from smiling too much and meaning none of it.
Caleb says somethingâsomething teasing, probablyâand Michaela laughs like a girl in love.
You stay a step behind them, clutching your bag a little too tightly.
You tell yourself itâs fine.
You tell yourself you deserve this.
Because in this triangle of careful lies and quiet betrayalsâ
Youâre the one who kissed the wrong boy.
And you were the one who almost said yes again.
âOh! I almost forgot,â Michaela says, as if it just came to her. âYou have to come to the premiere next month.â
You blink. âThe⌠premiere?â
She grins. âThe film. The one we shot over break? Weâre doing a small screeningâkind of like a soft launchâfor friends and crew.â She swings her shopping bags absentmindedly. âItâs just this tiny old theatre on 12th. Indie vibes, red velvet seats, ancient projector that might burst into flames halfway throughâsuper charming.â
You force a smile. âSounds cute.â
âYouâll come, right?â she says, looking at you over the rim of her cup. âI already told them to save you a seat.â
You hesitateâbut not long enough for her to notice. âSure.â
She beams. âPerfect.â Then, casually: âSylus will be there too. I made sure heâd come.â
Your fingers tighten slightly around the straps of your bag.
âMade sure?â you echo, trying to keep your tone even.
Michaela shrugs, but thereâs a sparkle in her eyesâthe kind that always means sheâs saying more than she lets on. âYeah! Iâve been seeing him pretty frequently these days. Bumped into him a few times after the shoot⌠had coffee once or twice. Heâs actually really funny when heâs not being all mysterious and broody.â
âOh,â Caleb joins, light and amused. âHim. Great. Canât wait to hear him brood about cinematography or whatever the hell it is he does.â
Michaela laughs, linking her arm with yours again. âBe nice. Heâs actually been really helpful lately.â
âHelpful,â Caleb echoes, quirking a brow as he pops the lollipop from his mouth. âDidnât realize mysterious bad boys were part of the crew now.â
âHeâs not a âbad boyâ,â she says, rolling her eyes.
She says it lightly, but thereâs a deliberate lilt in her voiceâa softness, almost flirtatious.
Your grip on your bag tightens, the fabric biting into your fingers.
You nod once, slow. âDidnât know you two were close.â
She hums. âWeâre getting there.â
Then, with a coy smile: âHe asked a lot about you, though. Thought that was cute.â
Your chest constricts. The air feels thinner somehow.
âAnyway,â she says, skipping in front and spinning to fully face you, âitâs going to be such a fun night. You should wear that black slip dressâthe one you wore to Jennaâs party? You looked so good in that.â
And all you could mutter in response was a short hum along with a smile.
â˘
The following days were as normal as they couldâve been. Well, aside from the fact that he has suddenly been everywhere.
At first, it was subtle.
A glimpse of him through the glass-paneled door of the editing lab, leaning over a studentâs shoulder.
The sound of his voice drifting down the hallwayâlow, smooth, impossible to mistake.
Then you saw him again, this time in the courtyard. Talking to a group from the business department, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee he barely drank from.
Word spread quickly.
âI thought he took most of his classes online?â someone whispered nearby.
âHe does. No one ever sees him around.â
âThen whyâs he here now?â
âWho knows? Maybe to complete his last courses before graduation?â
âHeâs a business major, right?â
âYeah, but like⌠old money business. Scary smart. The kind that makes you nervous to breathe too loud.â
You kept your head down, but your pulse never quite stayed still.
Because every time you caught sight of him, he never once looked your wayâ
And yet, you felt his presence like it was stitched into the fabric of your day.
He was too composed. Too polished. Too calculated.
And somehow, his silence was louder than if heâd cornered you outright.
âJust a mistake,â you mumble to yourself each time you see his figure waltz by.
But your quiet whispers to calm your nerves didnât prove to be a very sustainable method.
Not when the universe seems hellbent on rubbing it in.
You see them together.
Once in the corridor outside the media buildingâher laugh echoing off the walls, his hand casually in his pocket, head tilted down to hear her better. They walk side by side, their pace easy, unhurried.
Michaela looks effortless next to himâbright-eyed, golden, her hand brushing his arm as she says something that makes him smile.
Not his usual smirk. Not the quiet, condescending curve of his mouth he wore like armor.
You stop in your tracks.
Just for a second.
Long enough for Michaela to spot you.
She waves. Cheerful. Unbothered. âHey babe!â
He followed her gaze and landed on you. The smile on his lips curls up a little higher as you meet his eyes.
âHello,â amusement coats his voice.
âHiââ
âIâm probably not going to be free today for our usual hangouts,â Michaela cuts in, turning to you with an apologetic pout. âI asked Sylus to help with some of my work⌠You can hang out with Caleb by yourself, right?â
Before you can answer, she adds with a dramatic sigh, âPlease tell him to chill and that Iâm fineâjust really busy. Heâs been blowing up my phone non-stop these days.â
You force a smile, nodding once. âYeah. Of course.â
She beams, already tugging Sylus further down the hall.
He casts one last glance your way.
A flicker of something in his eyesâteasing, sharp, unreadable.
As soon as youâre left standing there, caught in the space between their footsteps and your silence, your phone buzzes.
You glance down,
Caleb [4:28 PM]: where are you
Caleb [4:28 PM]: arent we having dinner today
Caleb [4:28 PM]: are you with her? sheâs not answering my texts
Your stomach tightens.
You can still hear Michaelaâs laughter fading around the corner, Sylusâs low voice murmuring something back.
Caleb [4:29 PM]: nvm
Caleb [4:29 PM]: iâll find you myself
You donât even remember agreeing to it.
One minute youâre reading Calebâs texts with a pit in your stomach, the next heâs striding up to you outside the lecture hallâjaw tense, eyes scanning over your shoulder like heâs half-expecting Michaela to appear.
âSheâs with him, isnât she?â he asks, no greeting, voice clipped.
You blink. âCalebââ
His expression shifts. He exhales, scrubs a hand through his hair, and forces a smile.
âWhatever,â he says, eyes softening as they settle on you. âDoesnât matter. Youâre here.â
And just like that, the edge in his voice fades.
âCome on,â he says, nudging your shoulder. âIâm starving. Letâs go grab something before I start chewing my own arm off.â
You hesitate for half a second, but heâs already walking ahead, glancing back to make sure you follow.
â˘
Dinner ends up being at this tiny place tucked behind the arts buildingâwarm lighting, mismatched chairs, the kind of quiet hum that makes everything feel a little softer.
You sit across from him, arms tucked against your chest, still a little shell-shocked from everything.
He notices.
âYouâve been doing that thing again,â he says between bites. âWhere your brain goes somewhere else and forgets to take your body with it.â
You snort. âAnd what thing are you doing right now?â
He leans back, exaggeratedly smug. âBeing charming and irresistible, obviously.â
You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifts. Just a little.
When your food arrives, he pushes his plate toward you with a quiet, âTry this. Itâs better than yours.â
You glance at him, suspicious. âYou havenât even tasted mine.â
He grins. âExactly. Thatâs how confident I am.â
Itâs silly. Stupid, even. But it helps. The knot in your chest loosens just enough to let a small laugh slip out.
And thenâjust as youâre mid-biteâhis voice softens.
âHey.â
You look up.
His eyes are steady now. No teasing. No act.
âI never really got the chance to say it properly,â he murmurs. âAbout what happened at the filming set. That night. Everything.â
The clinking of cutlery fades around you.
âI was inconsiderate,â he says. âI thought too little. Acted too harsh. â
He looks down at his hands for a moment. âI overlooked your feelings. And I hurt you more than I meant to.â
You donât know what to say.
So you just watch him as he finally lifts his gaze again, softer now. Warmer.
âI guess what Iâm trying to say is⌠Iâm sorry.â
The air between you stills.
âCanât say I really enjoyed the stunt you pulled though,â he jokes.
The dinner continues quietlyâless heavy now, more like the old rhythm you used to share with him. Caleb cracks a few jokes, pokes fun at your serious face, and makes exaggerated guesses about the lives of people at nearby tables. You end up laughing more than you expected to.
Then, as you gather your things to leave, he tilts his head toward you with a mischievous glint.
âOne drink?â he asks. âThereâs this quiet place nearby. They make the worst cocktails Iâve ever had in my life. Thought youâd like it.â
You roll your eyes. âSounds irresistible.â
He grins. âExactly.â
The bar turns out to be this cozy hole-in-the-wall tucked behind a bookstore, dimly lit with string lights that look like theyâve been up since 2003. Thereâs an old piano in the corner no one plays, and the bartender greets Caleb like heâs a regularâwhich is both comforting and mildly concerning.
The musicâs soft. The booths are deep and worn-in. And somehow, the world feels smaller here.
Caleb orders for both of you, raising a brow at you across the table. âJust trust me.â
You donât. But you drink it anyway.
âYouâre smiling,â he points out, pleased with himself.
You arch a brow. âMust be the worst cocktail Iâve ever had in my life.â
He lifts his glass. âTo consistent branding.â
You clink glasses, laughter warm between you.
The kind of warmth that sneaks up on youâgentle, nostalgic, easy.
And then, somewhere between the second and third drink, he leans back, eyes softer now, his playful edge melting at the corners.
âYou know,â he starts, swirling whatâs left of his drink. âI donât really remember what my parents look like anymore.â
You glance over at him.
âYou donât talk about your family much,â you say gently.
He lets out a breath. It couldâve been a laugh.
âDonât really have one,â he says. âNot really.â
He lifts the glass to his lips, but doesnât drink. Just rests it there, like he needs something to hold on to.
âThankfully, Michaelaâs took me in,â he continues. âThankfullyâŚâ he repeats, quieter this time.
Your mood sours from the mention of her name. Of course she would be mentioned.
âShe has always been sick since she was a kid. âCause of her bad heart.â
You stay quiet. Let him keep going.
Something in his voice says he needs to.
âItâs always been my responsibility to keep her safe,â he says, almost like heâs reminding himself. âSince we were kids.â
His fingers drum against the glass, slow and steady, like a heartbeat.
âAnd whenever I failed to do so⌠wellâŚâ he trails off, then smiles, a crooked, breathy thing that doesnât touch his eyes. âIt never really ended very well.â
You feel the weight of those words, the way he tries to tuck pain into them like theyâre just another part of the joke.
âHe used to remind me constantly⌠of my purposeâŚâ Caleb mumbles, his voice slowing, slurring slightly. His words are slipping like his grip on the glassâloose, tired, too worn down to hold on.
You watch his eyes begin to dim, heavy with drink and something much older.
âYouâre too drunk, Caleb,â you say softly, reaching out to steady the glass before it tips.
He blinks at you. Slow. Dazed. And then his lips part, just barely.
âThat Iâm just a strayâŚâ he whispers, almost to himself. âIf no one needs meâŚâ
His gaze unfocuses for a moment. You donât think he even realizes heâs still speaking.
Your breath catches.
Heâs still smiling, faintly, lazily. But itâs the kind of smile that scourches your chest.
You slide your hand across the table, fingers brushing his. He doesnât move.
âYou should go home,â you murmur.
He doesnât answer. Just leans further into his folded arms, the tension in his shoulders finally giving out.
You sigh, quietly.
The bar is warm, the night colder. And somehow, without much thought, you find yourself wrapping his arm around your shoulder, whispering half-hearted complaints as you half-drag, half-guide him out the door.
â˘
The days fly by like leaves lifted off the branches.
Nothing of the past has ever been mentioned ever againâthe few days at the film set, the tense atmosphere between you and Michaela, nor the night Caleb slumped into your shoulder, murmuring half-truths through the haze of cheap liquor and old pain.
Classes resume. Group chats return to life. The cafeteria starts serving that awful tomato soup again. You slip back into the rhythm like nothing happened.
But the cracks are still thereâjust beneath the surface, waiting.
Youâre sitting under the shade of a banyan tree behind the humanities building. Itâs quiet, peaceful, a little breezy. Your lunch is balanced on your lap, half-eaten. Michaela plops down beside you with a soft âughâ and a dramatic stretch.
âGod,â Michaela says brightly, appearing at your side like she always doesâseamlessly, like a breath of perfume. âHeâs actually so funny once you get him to talk.â
You glance at her. âWho?â
She tilts her head, playful. âSylus,â she says, drawing the name out. âHeâs been helping me prep for the Q&A tomorrow. Said I needed to sound less âpageantâ and more âvisionary.â Whatever that means.â
Her laugh is breezy. Too light.
âOh?â you respond, forcing a smile. âSounds like youâre getting close.â
âOh, itâs nothing serious,â she says quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. âCoffee here, late-night notes there. Heâs just soâŚâ She trails off, eyes sparkling. âInteresting, donât you think?â
You hum. Noncommital.
Michaela doesnât seem to noticeâor pretends not to.
She takes a sip of her drink, then suddenly perks up. âOh! The premiereâs this Saturday. Are you ready?â
You blink. âReady forâŚ?â
âThe spotlight, duh,â she grins, nudging your arm. âTo see yourself on screen, see the scenes you played in come together with the background music. And to see your name in the closing credit!â
You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile. âItâs not that serious.â
âIt is,â she insists. âYou looked amazing, even in the trailer. You carried that cafĂŠ scene.â
You snort. âI said four words.â
âYeah, but you felt those four words. I almost cried.â
You laugh together, and for a secondâit feels real. Familiar. Like the last few weeks never happened.
âHave you picked an outfit yet?â she asks between bites of salad.
You shake your head. âWas just gonna wear something simple.â
Michaela gasps. âNo. Youâre not walking into an indie theater full of film nerds in âsomething simple.â You have to look effortless. Like youâre not trying, but also like⌠if you were trying, youâd end worlds.â
You glance at her, raising a brow. âThat specific, huh?â
âAlways,â she says, eyes sparkling.
And for a moment, itâs just the two of you.
Two girls beneath a tree, laughing about dresses and dumb film boys and the weight of appearances.
It feels soft. Safe. Like how things used to be.
And it hits you with a quiet ache.
Because even now, part of you still wants to believe this friendship can survive whatâs been done.
That maybe you havenât already burned the bridge.
That maybeâjust maybeâshe hasnât noticed the match in your hand.
The rest of the week passes in quiet, deliberate steps.
Classes blur. The campus grows louder, buzzing with exams and end-of-semester deadlines. Your name gets tagged once or twice in the group chatâreminders about call times, wardrobe, a blurry meme of someone joking about crying during the Q&A.
You try on outfits with Michaela after class, like you promised.
Itâs surprisingly normalâher room filled with scattered hangers, half-empty iced coffees, the faint sound of a playlist humming from her speaker.
You laugh. You bicker. You twirl.
And thenâSaturday arrives.
The day of the premiere.
Itâs just past golden hour when you step out of your building, the sky painted in soft streaks of lavender and orange. The air is crisp. The kind that wakes you up and reminds you somethingâs about to happen.
The old theatre on 12th is just as Michaela described itâsmall, a little run-down, with velvet seats that creak and a marquee that flickers every other letter.
Thereâs already a crowd forming outside. Film kids in too-large blazers and thrifted dresses, professors dressed semi-formal but too cool to act like it, and the crewâall wide-eyed and excited, passing around programs and laughter.
The theater glows in the soft spill of marquee lights, buzzing faintly overhead as you approach, clutching your clutch tighter than necessary.
The car pulls up just as you step onto the red-carpeted pavement.
And then you see her.
Michaela steps out first, the silk of her silver dress catching the light like water. It slips over her frame effortlesslyâcool-toned and reflective, like moonlight turned human. Her lips are painted a soft coral, her eyes dusted with shimmer, and her smileâbright, unbothered, breathtakingâlands like a punch to the chest.
Then comes Caleb.
He unfolds from the car in slow, unhurried movements, sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled neatly to his elbows beneath a tailored blazer, the collar unbuttoned just enough to suggest trouble. His hair is slicked back, not too perfect, and a hint of cologne catches the air as he leans slightly toward Michaela, saying something close to her ear.
You feel it instantlyâthe pull. The heat.
They look like they stepped off a magazine spread. Like theyâre here to be looked at. Owned it. Earned it.
Your stomach twists.
But then her eyes find yours.
âYn!â Michaela beams the second she sees you, waving you over like the oldest friend in the world. Her voice cuts through the crowd with effortless warmth. âYou look stunning! Oh my God!â
You force a smile, walking toward her as she reaches out and takes your hand for a brief spin. âSee? I told you that dress was the one. Absolutely gorgeous.â
âThanks,â you murmur.
Calebâs gaze drifts lazily toward you. His eyes widen slightly, just for a secondâsubtle, but there. And then that crooked, lazy smile of his crawls up his face like heâs trying not to let it show too much.
âDamn,â he mutters under his breath, voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the soft chatter of the crowd. âYou do look good today, shortcake.â
You donât turn to look at him. You donât smile. But your pulse stutters anyway.
Inside, the lights are low and flickering, casting everyone in gold.
You find your seats near the front.
You sit first.
Then Michaela slips in beside you, smoothing the back of her dress.
Then Calebâhis thigh brushing against hers, jacket folding as he slouches back with that usual too-cool ease.
And thenâ
An empty seat. Reserved with a single placard.
SYLUS QIN
You stare at it for a second too long.
The serif font. The clean white card. The space he hasnât filled.
People slowly fill the theatre, and the chatter dies down as soon as the introducing speech starts. Cheers and laughter are exchanged as the producer welcomes everyone, and soon, lights begin to dim, the hush rippling through the room like a spell settling.
The first flicker of light sears across your visionâtoo bright, too sudden. You blink, disoriented.
The grainy opening shot bleeds onto the walls, painting everyone in uneven strobes of white and shadow. Your hands curl into the fabric of your dress.
Then you hear your voice.
Just a small line, off-screen. But it makes your throat tighten.
And then youâre there. You.
A glimpse of your face on cameraâtoo quick, too exposed.
Your stomach flips. A cold rush spreads down your back. You shrink into your seat without meaning to.
The flickering continuesâscenes switching with sharp cuts, too fast, too loud. Your eyes strain to follow. The glow of the screen presses against your skin like heat.
You feel it in your temples. In the base of your skull.
A thrum. A pressure.
You try to breathe slower.
But there you are again.
In the corner of the frame. Behind Michaelaâs shoulder. Walking across the background, smiling as she delivers a perfect monologue.
Youâre always thereâbut never really there.
Never centered. Never seen.
Just enough to anchor the shot.
Never enough to be remembered.
Your heart races faster.
You glance sidewaysâMichaela is watching intently, chin tilted just so, the soft rise and fall of her breathing unbothered. Her hand rests lightly on Calebâs arm.
You try to focus on the screen, but the lights are too much now. The images change too quickly. Your skin feels hot. The sound dips and rises, warping in your ears. Laughter in the film echoes strangely, like itâs bouncing around inside your chest instead of the room.
You swallow down the tightness clawing its way up your throat.
Breathe.
You stare at your knees. At your folded hands.
The screen flashes white againâanother cut. Another shot of Michaela framed in golden light, eyes brimming with perfectly timed tears.
And just behind her, out of focusâyour figure. Barely lit. Barely there.
You curl your fingers into your dress and force yourself to stay still.
Because if you moveâif you flinch, if you breathe too loudâitâll feel too real.
Like this isnât just a movie. Like your position in the film is just as it is in real life.
Your breath hitches.
Get through this. Just get through this.
But the room feels too full. Your lungs too tight. Your face too visible under the flickering screenlight.
So, with quivering hands, you quickly excuse yourself out quietly, muttering a soft âI need to use the toilet,â to Michaela.
Your fingers brush her arm as you squeeze past, knees knocking against the velvet seat in front of you.
You donât look at Caleb.
You donât dare.
The moment you reach the aisle, you bolt.
The darkness of the theater presses in from all sides, but the exit sign glows redâblessedly real, blessedly distant from the version of you being projected for everyone else to see.
You push through the heavy doors.
Out into the hallway.
Into the quiet.
Itâs cooler out here. Dimmer. The hum of the projector muffled by layers of walls.
And still, your hands shake.
Your chest heaves.
You press your back against the corridor and squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to breathe again.
To stop hearing the lines you spoke, the laugh that wasnât yours, the way you stood just out of frame.
You werenât supposed to matter.
You werenât supposed to be seen.
But seeing yourself just thatâseeing yourself as nothing more than a narrative deviceâknocks all air out of your lungs.
And so you do what you do best in situations like these.
You walk.
Down the corridor. Past posters for old plays and peeling signs pointing to locked rehearsal rooms. The soft clink of your heels echoes against the concrete, sharp and rhythmic, the only sound in the hush that follows you.
Left. Then right.
You take the stairwell without thinkingâsomething about the way the door hangs open, waiting.
Up.
One flight. Two.
Youâre not counting. Youâre not really anywhere.
Just moving.
The final door gives with a groan.
And thenâopen air.
The rooftop is quiet. Dimly lit by a few tired bulbs and the soft haze of city lights glowing from below. The wind brushes past your cheeks, tugging at the hem of your dress, the strands of your hair.
You inhale slowlyâdeeply.
The air fills your lungs and doesnât choke. For the first time tonight, your chest doesnât feel so tight.
You hug your arms around yourself, rubbing warmth into your skin as you move toward the edge of the rooftop. The wind tangles softly in your hair. The quiet is heavier than silenceâitâs soothing. Honest.
The sounds of the premiere, the echoes of your lines, the weight of Michaelaâs smile, Calebâs lingering glancesâall of it stays behind those concrete walls.
But the moment your shoulders finally dropâthe tension unwinding from your spine like thread pulled too tightâ
a voice slices through the quiet.
âThe movie boring?â
You jolt.
And there he is.
Leaning lazily against the railing at the far edge of the rooftop, one hand resting in the pocket of his black slacks, the other loosely curled around a cigarette he hasnât lit. The wind toys with the edges of his shirt, untucked and open at the collar, the soft fabric fluttering just enough to hint at the warmth beneath.
His silver hairâbright even under the dull rooftop lightsâshifts with the breeze, strands falling across his forehead in that effortless way that should be illegal. The city glows behind him, casting shadows across the hard angles of his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His eyes catch yours beneath long lashes, amused, unreadable.
He doesnât move.
He doesnât need to.
Just the sight of himâcalm, crooked smile in place, posture loose like heâs got nowhere to be and nothing to proveâpulls something taut inside you all over again.
Sylus Qin.
Looking like trouble sculpted in moonlight.
And you walked straight into it.
Your voice stumbles out, more breath than word.
âWhat are you doing here?â
He doesnât answer right away. Just tips his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in that infuriatingly slow, unreadable way of his.
âDidnât realize rooftops were exclusively yours now.â
His voice is quiet but laced with amusement, like heâs already enjoying how thrown off you are. The wind picks up, tousling the silver strands of his hair. He doesnât fix them. Just leans back against the railing again like this is his space now. Like youâve wandered into his scene.
âI could ask you the same thing,â he adds, gaze settling on you. âDidnât strike me as the type to abandon your own premiere.â
Your jaw tightens. âItâs not my premiere.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, eyes glinting. âYou were in almost every shot. That little background smile of yours really carried the emotional arc.â
You shoot him a glare. He shrugs.
âRelax,â he says, voice dipping just enough to make your skin prickle. âIâm just making conversation.â
And then, without breaking eye contact, he pulls the cigarette back out from his pocketâlike he knew exactly when to use it for effect.
You watch as he rolls it between his fingers, slow and practiced, before slipping it between his lips. His eyes flick downward, shadowed beneath dark lashes, as he flicks the lighter.
A soft click.
A brief spark.
Then flame.
He cups the light with one hand, shielding it from the wind, the gesture intimate in its precision. The flame catches the edge of the cigarette, a quick sizzle, and then a curl of smoke unfurls between his lips as he leans backâhead tilted, silver hair brushing the collar of his jacket.
He exhales through parted lips.
Smoke spills from his mouth in a lazy stream, rising into the night air.
And for a moment, the whole rooftop smells like sin.
You swallow. Hard.
Because it shouldnât look that good.
No one should look that good doing something so simple.
But he makes it look like poetry wrapped in gasoline.
Dangerous. Beautiful. Impossible to look away from.
He glances sideways, catching your gazeâthen smirks around the cigarette.
âWhat?â he says, smoke curling past his teeth. âYou want one?â
You ignore his question as you cross the distance between you with quiet steps, heels clicking softly against the rooftop floor, until youâre beside him.
Close, but not touching.
You lean forward onto the railing, elbows braced, eyes fixed on the world below. The city stretches beneath youâcars like fireflies, neon signs blinking against concrete, life spilling in all directions.
âHeard youâre pretty close to Michaela these days.â
Words slip out of your mouth before you could stop themâcarried off too quickly by the breeze.
Sylus doesnât respond right away. Just takes another drag, eyes still on the skyline, unreadable behind the soft glow of the city lights and the rising smoke.
âIs that what people are saying?â he asks, voice low, like heâs half-amused, half-bored.
You glance sideways at him, but his expression doesnât shift.
âSheâs been⌠talking,â you murmur.
He exhales slowly, smoke curling from the corner of his lips. âYeah. She does that.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. The kind that leaves your thoughts too loud.
âShe seems to like you,â you add, keeping your voice light. âSays youâre funny. Helpful.â
His gaze finally cuts to you, slow and sharp. An eyebrow arches. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips.
âYou sound jealous,â he says, voice dipped in something darker. Teasing. Dangerous.
Your breath falters.
âIâm not.â
He hums, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, he turnsâjust slightlyâenough to face you, enough to make you feel it.
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, voice barely above the wind.
He leans in, just a bit. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that the air between you shifts.
âI mean⌠if you wanted my attention,â his eyes drag slowly down your face, âyou didnât have to bring her up to get it.â
You blink. Hard.
The smirk deepens. He takes one last drag from the cigarette, flicks it to the side, and exhalesâ
Right past your shoulder, warm and slow, like it was deliberate.
Then he turns back toward the railing, arms resting casually as if he didnât just turn your pulse inside out.
âRelax,â he says again, voice smooth and cruelly amused. âIâm just making conversation.â
âFuck you and your conversations.â
âLanguage, princess.â
The corner of his mouth lifts, slow and smug, like he enjoys your bite more than he should.
He doesnât look at you when he speaks nextâjust watches the lights below with that lazy, unreadable calm.
âThe dealâs still on, by the way,â he says, almost offhand. âI donât usually hold my deals this long.â
Your breath catchesâbut you donât answer. Not immediately.
Instead, eyes still fixed on the city, you ask quietly,
âWhatâs it like?â
He glances sideways.
âTo smoke,â you murmur, voice soft against the wind. âWhat does it feel like?â
That catches him off guard.
His smirk fades into something quieterâstill sharp, but thoughtful.
He straightens a little, resting his elbows on the railing, eyes narrowed at the skyline like heâs remembering something he canât touch anymore.
âItâs⌠warm,â he says eventually. âFirst few seconds burn. Then itâs just heat in your chest. Makes everything a little slower. A little duller.â
He glances at you again, eyes shadowed beneath silver strands.
âYouâd hate it.â
And then, softerâ
âYouâd get addicted.â
You glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. âThat confident, huh?â
His smile returns, crooked and slow.
âAlways.â
Thenâwithout looking awayâhe reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack again, taps it once against his palm.
âWanna try?â
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
The rooftop wind brushes your skin. The lights below blur like youâre not quite grounded anymore.
ââŚOkay,â you say finally, barely above a whisper. âSure.â
His gaze lingers on you for a breath longer than it shouldâsharp, slow, searching.
Then, with practiced ease, he slips the cigarette between his lips, flicks the lighter, and inhales. The tip glows ember-red. Smoke curls around his face like it belongs there.
He steps closer.
Not fast. Not aggressive. Just⌠inevitable.
Until your backs are no longer parallel, but aligned.
Until his body is angled toward yours, his hand brushing the railing beside your arm.
Then he exhalesâslow, steadyâup into the air first, just to show you how.
And before your thoughts can catch up, before your pulse even finds a rhythm, his hand slides around your jaw. Gentle, but certain. Fingers curling under your chin, tipping your face up to his.
âOpen,â he murmurs.
And you do.
He leans inâcloser, closer still.
Not to kiss. Not yet.
His mouth hovers just a hairâs breadth from yours, and thenâ
He exhales.
Smoke floods from his lungs into yours, warm and heady and tasting like fire and him.
It hits you all at onceâyour lips parted against his, the heat of his breath rolling into your mouth, your chest, your nerves. Your hands grip the railing behind you, fingers curling tight.
And just as your knees begin to weaken, just as the smoke begins to burnâ
His lips press to yours.
Not soft.
Not tentative.
Itâs full, hungry contactâheat and pressure and something sharp beneath the surface. He kisses you like youâre something he earned. Like he knew this was coming the moment you stepped onto that rooftop.
And god, you let him.
His hand slips from your jaw to your throat, thumb resting lightly just beneath your pulse. You feel it hammering there, wild and fast. He deepens the kiss, mouth coaxing yours open further, tongue tracing the edge of your bottom lip like a tease, like a challenge.
You kiss him back.
Harder. Needier. Like youâve been holding it in.
Like youâre finally letting go.
The smoke lingers between you. In your mouth. Your chest. The heat of it coils through your veins, makes the moment feel reckless, dangerous, electric.
When he finally pulls away, just barely, your lips are still partedâstill chasing after him.
And Sylusâ
Heâs already smirking.
âTold you,â he breathes, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
âYouâd get addicted.â
Your breath comes shallow. Foggy. Like youâre drunkâfrom the smoke. From him.
From the way his voice sits too low in your stomach, too warm in your throat.
You blink, dazed. âWhat the fuck was that?â
He laughsâlow, rich, and dizzying.
âStill want to call it a mistake?â
You donât answer. Canât.
Not with the nicotine still curling in your lungs. Not with his breath still ghosting yours.
Maybe itâs the way the air thins between you again.
Maybe itâs the flush that rises to your cheeks when you look up at him and realize he hasnât stepped back this time.
Or maybe itâs just that dangerous cocktail of heat and haze and the taste of sin still lingering on your tongue.
âI think,â you whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth, âyou didnât teach it properly.â
His gaze sharpens. That smirk falters, just for a secondâenough to show the hunger underneath.
âOh?â he breathes.
You nod. Barely.
He leans in. Slowly. Purposefully.
His hand grazes your waist, his breath brushing your lipsâand just when you think heâs going to kiss you againâ
He pulls back.
Barely an inch. Just enough to keep you chasing.
His smirk returns, lazier this time. Meaner.
âDidnât think youâd beg so soon,â he murmurs.
You glare. âI didnât beg.â
âMm,â he hums, dragging a finger along your jaw, âNot yet.â
Thenâfinallyâhe kisses you.
But itâs slower now. Crueler.
His mouth moves with calculated ease, like heâs studying you. Like he wants to see how long you can last with the tension stretched this thin.
He barely gives you what you wantâjust enough heat to make your knees unsteady, just enough pressure to make you lean in.
When your hand fists in his shirt, tugging him closer, he lets out a quiet laugh against your lips.
âImpatient,â he mutters, and you feel itâlow and hotâright in your throat.
And then he deepens the kiss.
Because he knows youâre done pretending you donât want it.
And heâs done pretending he doesnât love watching you unravel.
But in the middle of it allâhis fingers sliding under your shirt, your hands fisted in the back of his hair, breaths shared like secretsâ
It hits you.
A crack of clarity.
Sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze.
You pull back.
Not far, but enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to speak.
âWhy are you doing this?â
His brows knit, just slightly. You feel the shift in him, the quiet tension settling beneath the heat.
You keep going. You have to.
âWhat will you get out of the deal?â
Your voice is low, but steady. The question tastes bitter in your mouthâmaybe because youâve been trying to pretend it didnât matter.
But it does. It always did.
He watches you, smoke still clinging to his breath, his thumb pausing on your skin.
And for a moment, he doesnât answer.
Like heâs deciding what version of the truth to give you.
Like heâs debating if youâve earned it.
He fully pulls away, the warmth of his body gone in an instant.
You watch as he straightens his spine, smooths down his collar with one hand, runs the other through his wind-tousled silver hairâlike heâs putting his armor back on. Like he needs the distance again.
âIâm not playing games,â he says.
His voice is low. Still sharp, but thereâs something underneath now. Not heat. Not flirtation.
Something older. Quieter. Worn.
You cross your arms, still catching your breath. âThen what is this?â
He pauses.
You see the flicker in his eyesâa calculation, a hesitation. The part of him that always weighs what to say and what to bury.
Then his lips tug into that same maddening smirk.
âYouâre just really pitiful,â he says, voice lazy with mock sympathy.
Your brows shoot up. âExcuse me?â
âKind of like someone I knew,â he continues, like he didnât just insult you to your face. His tone is still light, but something about the way he says itâtoo casual, too preciseâmakes you freeze.
He doesnât elaborate right away. Just glances down at the city lights below, cigarette smoldering between his fingers again.
He takes one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it over the edge, watching the ember fall like a dying star.
Then he turns back to youâsmirk faded now, voice lower, rougher. Real.
âLetâs just sayââ he begins, eyes locking with yours,
âyou get to use me to get whatever you wantâŚâ
A pause. A slow step closer.
âAnd Iâll use you to get whatever I want.â
He lets the silence stretch between you, lets the weight of the words hang there like smoke.
âSounds fair?â
You donât answer right away.
You just stand thereâwind tousling your hair, the taste of smoke still clinging faintly to your lipsâwatching him.
Watching the way he doesnât push.
Doesnât ask again.
Just lets the offer hang in the air like a match waiting to be struck.
Your thoughts spiralâthrough the flickers of the film, the ache in your chest as you watched yourself play the shadow, Michaelaâs bright voice, Calebâs wandering gaze, Sylusâs mouth on yours, the weight of his hands, the things he said.
And the worst part?
The way all of it made you feel alive again.
Like something inside you had finally stirred.
Like you were tired of being careful. Tired of being quiet. Tired of waiting for someone else to hand you the pen to your own story.
You draw in a breath, meet his eyes.
âFine,â you say, soft but steady.
âIâm in.â
His smile is slow. Pleased. Like he already knew.
But he says nothing. Just nods once and turns to leave, hands in his pockets, silver hair catching the rooftop light.
You donât stop him.
You stay there for a moment longer, listening to the echo of your own heartbeat.
And when the rooftop door clicks shut behind himâ
Youâre still tasting sin.
Still thinking about the deal you just made.
And wondering who, in the end, will really get what they want.
