Mika ᯓᡣ𐭩

Caleb and Jungkook Girl.

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: Four years.

Caleb: eight years.

Happy Birthday Caleb. (*・ω・)ﾉ”┌iii┐♡

June thirteenth dawned radiant. The sun came through the windows as if it knew it was a special day, and the birds sang more eagerly than usual. But Caleb didn't know that. For him, it was a day like any other: he got up, put on his school uniform, ate his cereal for breakfast, and brushed his teeth with the same seriousness as always.

—Caleb —said Josephine, pouring him his last glass of milk—. Do you know what day it is?

Caleb looked at her with his violet eyes, confused.

—Tuesday?

—Yes, it's Tuesday. But it's also something else.

Caleb thought. There was no test today, no field trip, nothing special at school.

—I don't know.

—Happy birthday, my love.

Caleb froze. He had completely forgotten. With the school routine, homework, and his head always busy thinking about dinosaurs and how to take care of Mc, his birthday had slipped his mind.

—Is it the thirteenth already?

—It's the thirteenth already. Eight years old, Caleb. Eight.

Josephine walked over and hugged him tight. Caleb let himself be hugged, but his mind was already elsewhere.

—Does Mc know? —he asked.

—Mc knows. And she has a surprise for you.

—What surprise?

—If I tell you, it's not a surprise.

Caleb wanted to ask more, but at that moment Mc came down the stairs still in her bunny pajamas, her hair a mess and Copito dragging on the floor. She rubbed her eyes, opened them, and saw Caleb in his uniform.

—Caleb —she said, with a huge smile—. Happy birthday!

And she ran to him, climbed onto his lap (he was still sitting at the table having breakfast) and gave him a kiss on the lips.

—Thank you, Princess —said Caleb, smiling.

—Are you going to school?

—Yes.

—And when will you be back?

—In the afternoon.

—Oh —said Mc, in a tone that hid something—. Okay. See you later.

Caleb looked at her strangely. Mc didn't usually say goodbye so easily. She always cried when he left, or at least made a huge pout. But today she was... calm.

—Are you okay, Princess?

—Yes —said Mc, climbing down from his lap—. Go on, go. You're going to be late.

Caleb said goodbye to Josephine, gave Mc one last kiss on the cheek, and walked out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Mc turned to Josephine with her eyes shining.

—Jojo! We have to start!

—Easy, my love. We have all day.

—But there are so many things to do!

Josephine laughed. Since the night before, Mc hadn't stopped talking about the surprise party. She had had trouble falling asleep from excitement, and at dawn she was already awake, asking if it was time to start yet.

—First we have breakfast —said Josephine—. And then we get to work.

Mc ate breakfast faster than ever. The honey bears flew off her plate, the milk in her bottle disappeared in seconds. Josephine had barely finished her coffee when Mc was already tugging at her sleeve.

—Jojo, now!

—Okay, my love. Let's start.

The house turned into a decorating workshop. Josephine had bought colorful balloons — blue, green, yellow, because Caleb liked dinosaurs and dinosaurs were those colors — and a big banner that said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALEB".

Mc wanted to help with everything.

—I'll put up the balloons —she announced.

—Do you know how to blow them up?

—Yes.

Josephine handed her a balloon. Mc blew and blew and blew, but the balloon didn't inflate. Her face turned red, her cheeks puffed out, but the balloon stayed the same.

—It's not working —she said, frustrated.

—You have to blow harder.

Mc blew harder. This time, a little air went in, but when she let go to breathe, the air escaped.

—It went away! —she protested.

Josephine laughed.

—Better I blow them up, and you tie them.

—Tie them?

—Yes. Look.

Josephine blew up a balloon and handed it to Mc. Mc tried to tie a knot, but her little fingers couldn't grab the tip. She tried once, twice, three times. On the fourth try, the balloon slipped out of her hands and flew across the room, deflating along the way.

—It died! —shouted Mc, pointing at the balloon lying on the floor.

Josephine doubled over laughing.

—It didn't die, my love. It just deflated.

—But it's no good anymore.

—We can blow it up again.

—It won't get mad?

—Balloons don't get mad.

Mc accepted that explanation and kept trying to tie balloons. On the sixth try, she managed to tie a knot. A crooked, loose knot, but a knot nonetheless.

—I did it! —she shouted, holding the balloon up like a trophy.

—Good job, my love!

Mc tied five more balloons before getting bored. Then she moved on to the banner.

—I'll hold it —she said.

—All by yourself?

—Yes.

Josephine handed her one end of the banner. Mc held it with both hands, but the banner was long and heavy, and her arms started to shake.

—It's falling —she said, her voice strained.

—Wait, I'll put tape on it.

Josephine put the banner on the wall with tape. Mc watched every move, making sure it was straight.

—It's crooked —she said.

—A little bit?

—A little bit a lot.

Josephine straightened it.

—Now?

—Better.

—Just better?

—It's fine.

Josephine smiled. Her daughter was a mini boss.

After the decorations, came the most important moment: the food.

Josephine had planned to make a chocolate cake, Caleb's favorite. Mc wanted to help with everything.

—I'll break the eggs —she said.

—Be careful with the shells.

Mc took an egg, hit it against the edge of the bowl, and the shell broke into tiny pieces that fell into the mixture. Also some egg white fell on the counter, some on the floor, and some on her finger, which she put in her mouth.

—Cold —she said.

—Of course, my love. Eggs are cold.

—Can I break another one?

—This one will come out better.

The second egg was worse. Mc hit it so hard that the shell exploded, splattering egg white on her face.

—I got wet! —she protested.

Josephine wiped her face with a napkin, laughing.

—Better I break the eggs, and you mix.

—Okay.

Josephine broke the remaining eggs while Mc stuck her hands in the bowl and started mixing with her fingers. The batter stuck to her hands, her arms, the table.

—Jojo —she said, showing her white hands—. I'm a ghost.

—A cake ghost.

—The cake is going to be chocolate. Chocolate is brown. Ghosts are white. I'm a white chocolate ghost.

Josephine didn't know how to respond to that logic, but she nodded.

—Of course, my love. A white chocolate ghost.

Mc kept mixing until the batter was ready. She had more batter on her face than in the bowl, but she was proud.

—Now? —she asked.

—Now we bake it.

—Can I do it?

—No, my love. The oven is hot.

—Oh. Then I'll watch.

Josephine put the cake in the oven while Mc watched from a chair, her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

—How much longer? —she asked every two minutes.

—Thirty minutes.

—Now?

—Twenty-nine.

—Now?

—Twenty-eight.

—Now?

—My love, if you keep asking, the cake is going to get mad.

—Cakes get mad?

—Birthday cakes are very sensitive.

Mc stayed quiet after that. She didn't want the cake to get mad.

While the cake was baking, Mc worked on the most important gift: the handmade little bear.

Josephine had bought brown fabric, thread, a needle, and stuffing. The idea was to sew a small bear that Mc could give to Caleb.

—I'll sew —said Mc.

—With my hands, my love. You choose the buttons.

—The buttons?

—For the eyes. What color do you want the bear's eyes to be?

Mc thought about it.

—Violet.

—Violet? Like Caleb's?

—Yes. So the bear looks like Caleb.

—Perfect.

Josephine started sewing while Mc watched. She wasn't fast at sewing, but she put effort into it. Mc, beside her, picked buttons from a jar. There were buttons of every color, but she only wanted violet.

—There's no violet —she said after searching.

—Are you sure?

—There's only purple.

—Purple is almost violet.

—No. Purple is purple. Violet is violet. They're different.

—And if there's no violet?

Mc was about to cry. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears.

—But the bear has to have violet eyes —she said, her voice breaking—. Like Caleb.

Josephine searched through the jar, rummaged and rummaged. At the bottom, almost hidden, she found one violet button. Just one.

—Here's one —she said, showing it to her.

—One! —shouted Mc—. But bears have two eyes!

—We can use violet for one eye, and purple for the other.

—It'll look weird.

—It'll be unique. Like Caleb.

Mc thought about it.

—Okay. One violet eye, one purple eye.

Josephine sewed the buttons while Mc watched. When she finished, the bear had a crooked face, uneven ears, and one violet eye and one purple eye. It was ugly. It was perfect.

—Is it done? —asked Mc.

—It needs stuffing.

—Can I do it?

—Yes.

Josephine handed her the unsewn bear and a bunch of stuffing. Mc took handfuls of cotton and stuffed them inside the fabric, pressing hard.

—More? —she asked.

—A little more.

—More?

—That's it.

—Are you sure?

—It's fine.

Josephine sewed the final opening. The bear came out chubby, round, with an expression somewhere between sad and surprised.

—What's his name? —asked Josephine.

—Osi —said Mc—. Because he's a be-ar.

—Osi is a pretty name.

—I know. I made it up.

Mc took Osi and hugged him tight. Then she went to her room and came back with a pink ribbon, the kind she wore in her hair.

—Look —she said, tying it around his neck—. Now he's pretty.

—Very pretty.

—Caleb is going to love him.

—He's going to love him.

The next gift was the drawings. Mc sat at the table with a mountain of white paper and all her crayons.

She drew Caleb in his dinosaur t-shirt. She drew Caleb in his school uniform. She drew Caleb reading on the sofa. She drew Caleb driving his electric car. She drew Caleb sleeping. She drew Caleb eating. She drew Caleb laughing, even though he almost never laughed.

In every drawing, she was by his side. In some, Copito was there too. In others, Josephine. But always, always, she was there.

—Jojo —she said, showing the fifth drawing—. Who is this?

Josephine looked. It was a figure with violet eyes, freckles on his face, and a big smile.

—Caleb?

—No. It's my boyfriend. But he's also Caleb. They're the same person.

—Oh. And why is he smiling so much?

—Because it's his birthday. On birthdays you smile.

—Of course.

Mc made fifteen drawings. Fifteen. Josephine didn't know where they were going to keep them all, but she didn't say anything. It was Mc's gift, and Mc decided.

The cake came out of the oven. Mc wanted to decorate it all by herself.

—I'll put the chocolate —she said.

—The melted chocolate?

—Yes.

Josephine melted chocolate in the microwave and gave it to Mc in a small cup. Mc took a spoon, dipped it in the chocolate, and started spreading it over the cake.

It wasn't even. Some parts had lots of chocolate, others almost none. Mc also put chocolate on the tray, on the table, on her finger (which went into her mouth), and a little on her face.

—Done —she said, proudly.

—It's beautiful.

—And the candles?

—The candles go on at the end.

—How many?

—Eight. One for each year of Caleb's life.

—Eight is a lot.

—Caleb is eight years old.

—And next year?

—Nine.

—And the year after that?

—Ten.

Mc thought for a moment.

—When Caleb is a hundred, there will be a lot of candles.

—A whole lot.

—The cake won't be big enough.

—We'll have to make a bigger cake.

Mc nodded, serious. It was a good plan.

Josephine decorated the cake with colorful sprinkles — Mc wanted to put them all on, but she ate most of them — and put it in the fridge.

There wasn't much time left. Caleb would be back from school in an hour.

—Jojo —said Mc, looking at the decorated house—. Is it pretty?

—It's very pretty.

—Will Caleb be happy?

—He'll be very happy.

—Will he cry?

—I don't think so. Caleb doesn't cry.

—But sometimes he cries on the inside.

Josephine felt a lump in her throat.

—Yes, my love. Sometimes he cries on the inside. But not today. Today he'll be happy on the inside.

—How do you know?

—Because he has a little sister who loves him very much. And a mom who does too.

Mc smiled and sat on the sofa, with Copito and Osi in her lap, waiting.

The wait was eternal. Mc looked at the clock every thirty seconds, even though she couldn't tell time.

—Now?

—Not yet.

—Now?

—Five more minutes.

—What's five minutes?

—Very little. Almost nothing.

—Like one second?

—A little more.

—Like two seconds?

—About three hundred seconds.

Mc's eyes widened, impressed.

—That's a lot.

—It's a little.

—Then I'll wait.

And she waited.

When the key turned in the door, Mc jumped off the sofa like she was spring-loaded.

—Close your eyes! —she shouted.

Caleb, who was coming in, stopped in his tracks.

—What?

—Close your eyes, Caleb! It's a surprise!

Caleb obeyed. He closed his eyes and stood at the door, not moving.

—Can I come in? —he asked.

—Yes. But don't open your eyes.

—Why?

—Because it's a surprise!

Caleb walked in with his eyes closed, walking slowly so he wouldn't trip. Mc took his hand and guided him to the living room.

—Now? —asked Caleb.

—Not yet.

—Now?

—Almost.

—Now?

—Now!

Caleb opened his eyes.

The living room was full of balloons. Blue, green, yellow. A banner said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CALEB". On the table, a chocolate cake with sprinkles and eight candles waiting to be lit.

And in the center, Mc, with a smile so big it looked like her face might split.

—Happy birthday, Caleb! —she shouted.

Caleb didn't say anything. He just looked around, taking it all in. The balloons, the banner, the cake. Mc, with her hands stained with chocolate and her face full of pride.

—Do you like it? —she asked, suddenly insecure.

Caleb knelt in front of her and hugged her.

—It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen —he said.

—More than dinosaurs?

—More than dinosaurs.

—More than books?

—More than books.

—More than me?

—The same as you. Because you did all of this.

Mc smiled, happy.

—Jojo helped too.

—Jojo too.

Josephine came over and hugged them both.

—Happy birthday, my love.

—Thank you, Jojo.

They lit the candles. Mc sang Happy Birthday in a voice so off-key that Josephine had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Caleb blew out the candles.

—Did you make a wish? —asked Mc.

—Yes.

—What did you wish for?

—If I tell you, it won't come true.

—But you can tell me. Because I'm your girlfriend.

Caleb looked at her.

—I wished to be the best pilot in the world.

—In the whole world?

—In the whole world.

—Why?

Caleb hesitated for a second.

—So I can always take care of my Princess.

—Of me?

—Of you.

Mc smiled and gave him a kiss. Poc.

—That wish is going to come true —she said.

—How do you know?

—Because I wished for it in my heart too.

Caleb felt something move inside him. Something warm, huge, that he didn't know how to name.

—Now presents —announced Mc.

Josephine handed her a big bag. Mc took it and gave it to Caleb.

—Open, open, open —she said, jumping.

Caleb opened the bag. Inside were dinosaur books, a t-shirt of his favorite basketball team, a new puzzle, and many more things.

—All of this is for me? —he asked, surprised.

—All of it —said Mc.

—But it's a lot.

—I know. I told Jojo you had to have lots of presents. Because you're my boyfriend and boyfriends get lots of presents on their birthday.

Josephine smiled from the kitchen. Mc had insisted for days. "More presents, Jojo. Caleb needs more presents." They had gone to the store three times because Mc remembered something new each time.

Caleb opened each present carefully. He didn't tear the paper, he unfolded it as if it were something precious. Mc watched every reaction, looking for the smile.

—Did you like it? —she asked each time.

—Yes, Princess.

—How much?

—A lot.

—More than the last present?

—They're all my favorites.

Mc nodded, satisfied.

When he finished opening the big bag, Mc went to her room and came back with a small box.

—There are two more —she said.

—Two?

—One from Jojo and one from me. But mine is the most important.

Caleb opened Josephine's first. It was a case with a leather bracelet, simple, with a small plate that said "Caleb" engraved on it.

—So you can wear it always —said Josephine—. And remember that we love you.

Caleb put it on his wrist. It fit snugly. He liked it.

—Thank you, Jojo.

—Now mine —said Mc, handing him the box.

Caleb opened the box. Inside was a stack of folded papers.

He unfolded them one by one. They were the drawings.

Caleb in his dinosaur t-shirt. Caleb in his school uniform. Caleb reading on the sofa. Caleb driving his electric car. Caleb sleeping. Caleb eating. Caleb laughing.

In every drawing, Mc was by his side.

—There are fifteen —said Mc—. I made them all. Look, this one is you smiling. And this one is you with your freckles. And this one is you with your violet eyes.

—The violet didn't come out right —said Mc, pointing at the drawing—. Grapes are more violet.

—It's perfect —said Caleb.

—Really?

—Really. I'm keeping them forever.

Mc smiled, happy.

—There's one more —she said.

—One more?

Mc pulled Osi from behind her back. She had hidden him.

—His name is Osi. Jojo and I made him. I did the eyes and the stuffing and the ribbon.

Caleb took Osi. He was small, chubby, with a crooked face, one violet eye and one purple eye, a pink ribbon around his neck.

—He's ugly —said Mc, suddenly insecure—. But we made him with love.

—He's not ugly —said Caleb, his voice hoarse.

—He's not?

—He's the prettiest little bear in the world.

—Prettier than Copito?

—Copito is your favorite. Osi is going to be my favorite.

Mc smiled, radiant.

—Did you like your birthday?

—It was the best birthday of my life.

—The best ever?

—The best of the best.

—Better than last year?

—Better.

—Better than when you turned six?

—Better.

—Then it was very good.

—Because you were there.

Mc threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight. Osi got squished between them, but he didn't mind.

—I love you, Caleb —she said against his chest.

—I love you too, Princess.

—Forever.

—Forever.

Josephine watched them from the kitchen, her eyes full of tears. She wasn't crying from sadness, but from a happiness so big it didn't fit in her body.

—Cake! —shouted Mc, pulling away—. We have to eat cake!

They cut the cake. Mc ate two whole slices and got chocolate all over her face. Caleb got chocolate on himself too, but less.

—Caleb —said Mc, her mouth full of chocolate—. You know what?

—What?

—When you're a pilot, can I travel with you?

—Always, Princess.

—And Jojo?

—Jojo too.

—And Copito?

—Copito too.

—And Osi?

—Osi too.

—And the dinosaurs?

—The dinosaurs are already dead.

—So they can't?

—They can't.

—Poor them.

Caleb laughed. Mc laughed too.

Night came. The party was over. Josephine put away the leftover cake, picked up the deflated balloons, and cleaned the table. Caleb and Mc sat on the sofa, tired but happy.

—Caleb —said Mc, lying in his lap.

—Tell me, Princess.

—Today I was happy.

—Me too.

—Why?

—Because I was with you.

—I was with you too.

—That's why we were both happy.

Mc nodded, her eyes closed.

—Caleb.

—Mmm?

—When you make another wish, wish for the same thing.

—To be the best pilot in the world?

—Yes. So you can always take care of me.

—That's what I'm going to wish for every year.

—Every year?

—Every year.

—Until you're a hundred?

—Until I'm a hundred.

—And if there's no cake?

—I'll make the wish anyway. Without candles.

—Can you do that?

—If the wish is for you, you can.

Mc smiled and fell asleep in his lap, with Copito in one arm and Osi in the other. Osi, the ugly little bear she had made with love, pressed against her heart.

Caleb stayed looking at her. He felt the weight of her body, the warmth of her breathing, the softness of her hair.

—I love you, Princess —he whispered.

And in that moment, with his sister asleep in his lap and his little rag bear in his hand, Caleb knew that his wish had already come true.

He didn't need to be a pilot to take care of her.

He just needed to be himself.

——————

Hi, sorry for the inactivity, I have been in delicate health... I hope you like it!

[cherrymikoo]

+18

Warning: Content +18, mention of some fetishes, Caleb punk, if you don't like it don't read it! <3

Mc: 22 years.

Caleb: 25 years.

red ash. .⋆♱

The bar was called Ruina, and it was in the basement of an old building in Linkon, near Jiangsu Road station. The stairs smelled of humidity and beer spilled from the night before, and the walls were covered in graffiti that no one reported because no one looked that far down. Caleb had played there twenty-something times, but that night was different. That night Mc was in the crowd, and he knew it because she had whispered it against his lips before leaving the dressing room, her fingers still hooked on the waistband of his pants.

But that was before.

Now Caleb stood in front of the mirror stained with foundation dust and dried mascara, adjusting his leather choker with the silver buckle. He wore the dark denim vest, sleeves crudely cut with scissors, and underneath the black crop top that rode up every time he raised his arms, revealing the black mesh covering his torso and that dark line of hair trailing down from his navel. The black eyeshadow around his violet eyes was a little smudged from nervous sweat, but he liked it that way: dirtier, more real. His piercings gleamed: the labret, the side labret, the one on his left eyebrow, the silver hoops in his ears. Mc always said he looked like an angel that had grown nails.

She hadn't been able to wait.

There were fifteen minutes left before they went on stage, and the band was already outside warming up. But Mc stayed with him. She stayed because she saw him leaning against the exposed brick wall, biting the inside of his cheek as he ran through the lyrics in his head, and something about the way his fingers tapped his thigh made her close the dressing room door with her foot.

— Mc, the band goes on in fifteen — he said, but his voice no longer sounded like a protest.

— I'll make it... I swear — she replied, and she knelt down.

Caleb let out a choked moan when he felt her hands on his zipper. He wore his black jeans so tight that everything was already visible, because with her, one look licking his neck from across the room was enough to make him hard. Mc looked up at him with those black doll-like eyes, and unzipped his fly with her teeth. Not out of necessity. Because she knew he lost his mind when she used her mouth for something other than talking.

Caleb placed one hand on the wall and the other on the back of her neck, not squeezing, just resting there. The black mesh of his sleeve brushed Mc's cheek, and she smiled before pulling out his cock. It was thick, too long and wide... a perfect cock with a pink, wet head already slick from the accumulated excitement. Mc wrapped her fingers around it, felt the weight in her palm, and then took the tip into her mouth without looking away.

— Just like that — Caleb whispered, his voice rougher than when he sang.

Mc sucked him slowly at first. Just the head, pressing her tongue right where he trembled, while her hand pumped the rest. Caleb tilted his head back and bit his lower labret. The wall mirror reflected the image of her kneeling before him, worshiping him with her dress hiked up to mid-buttock, her long, straight brown hair falling down her back like a curtain. The sight was so obscene and so completely his that he had to close his eyes for a second.

Mc swallowed more. She took his cock all the way to the back of her throat with a wet, guttural noise, and Caleb responded by tightening his fingers on her neck, not choking, just to feel that he could guide her. She moaned around him, and the vibration traveled through Caleb's stomach, his abs already tense beneath the black mesh.

— You're going to make me come — he warned, but it didn't sound like a warning. It sounded like an order fulfilling itself.

Mc sped up. She used one hand to cup his balls while the other remained at the base, sucking with hollowed cheeks, letting saliva run down her chin because she knew he liked seeing her messy. Caleb looked at her again in the mirror. Her full lips were swollen, her black eyes bright, and a drop of saliva hung from her chin. She looked like a broken sex doll. She looked like his.

He came in her mouth with a hoarse moan that got stuck between his teeth. Mc took it all, swallowed without looking away, and licked the head clean. Then she stood up slowly, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and zipped Caleb's pants back up with an innocent smile.

— Now you can go out — she said.

Caleb grabbed her by the belt loop of her skirt, pressed her against his body, and kissed her so deeply that he tasted himself on her tongue. When they pulled apart, his violet eyes were blazing and his pulse was racing.

— Tonight you're going to pay for that — he whispered against her ear. And then he walked out to the stage.

The stage was a wooden platform painted black, chipped at the corners, barely separated from the audience by a line of cables on the floor. The lights were four red spotlights and one white one that flickered every time someone tripped on the cord. The place smelled of accumulated sweat, cheap incense, and worn-out hope. The band was called "Red Ash" and they had never made it out of the basement bar circuit, but every night Caleb got on stage as if it were the last concert of his life.

Mc positioned herself at the left side of the bar, leaning on her elbow, a bottle of Tsingtao in her hand. She didn't plan to drink. She just needed something to do with her hands so she wouldn't jump on stage herself and sit on Caleb's face in front of everyone. She wore a black sleeveless dress, short but not vulgar, with lace edges peeking out from under the hem. And underneath, nothing. She wore nothing because Caleb had taken off her panties in the dressing room half an hour earlier and shoved them into his back pocket with a crooked smile. So now she was there, at the bar of a room full of strangers, her cunt bare beneath the thin fabric, watching her boyfriend step onto the stage with his mouth still wet from her.

Caleb found her instantly. She was the only one shining in the dimness. Not because of the light, but because of the way he looked at her: as if everyone else in the room were just stains of moisture on the wall. He positioned himself behind the microphone, adjusted the height (he always lowered the stand because he was too tall for it), and his fingers, adorned with silver rings, tapped the microphone base three times. One, two, three.

The drummer counted four beats, and they started.

The first song was fast, with a guitar riff that sounded like a closing knife. Caleb sang with a shredded voice, eyes closed, head thrown back. But by the second verse, when the crowd began to nod along without conviction, he opened his eyes and stared directly at Mc. Straight. Without blinking.

He sang to her.

— I want to see you on your knees again — he mouthed into the microphone, even though the song's lyrics were in English and said no such thing. No one noticed. Only her.

Mc felt the heat rise from her core. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her thighs together under the bar. Her dress rode up a little more, but she didn't fix it.

Caleb, from the stage, let his gaze drop to her thighs. He saw the hem of her dress, the shadow hinting at skin. And he smiled. A slow, perverted smile that crinkled his freckles around his violet eyes. Then he stuck his tongue between his lips, licked the side of the microphone slowly, as if he were licking something else. And he grabbed his crotch with his free hand to adjust his pants, but the gesture was so obvious that Mc heard a guy near her let out a nervous chuckle.

Caleb had no shame. He never had. At twenty-five, with that body of sculpted muscles visible beneath the black mesh, with that punk-angel face full of piercings and eyeshadow, the only thing that mattered to him in the world was that Mc was watching him. Because before her, there had been no one. No one who truly saw him. Not a girlfriend in college, not a one-night stand, not even a stolen kiss at a party. His first time with a woman was with Mc, and she was the first to call him Daddy without laughing, the first to kneel without him having to ask. That's why now he felt like an animal in heat every time he had her close.

The second song was slower. A dirty ballad he had written thinking about her breasts, though the lyrics talked about ashes and fire. Caleb approached the edge of the stage, crouched down in front of the audience, and sang looking at Mc between the legs of a bald guy who understood nothing. His fingers strummed the air over the guitar he wasn't carrying (someone else played guitar; he only sang), and when the chorus arrived, he parted his lips in an obscene way and said:

— Open your mouth.

He didn't sing it. He whispered it into the microphone. And even though the room was full of noise, Mc heard it as if he had said it directly into her ear. She opened her mouth. Just a little. Just enough for him to see the shine of her tongue.

Caleb stood up abruptly and turned his back to the audience, grabbing the back of his own neck with both hands. He needed a second. If he kept looking at her, he was going to get off the stage, push through the crowd, put her panties (which he himself had removed) back on her just so he could rip them off again and fuck her against the bar with everyone watching. And he couldn't. There were three songs left.

Mc knew it. And she was enjoying it.

From the bar, she crossed one leg over the other, and her dress rode up a little more, revealing the white garter on her thigh. She wasn't wearing stockings, just the garter, because Caleb went crazy seeing that little strip of elastic biting into her flesh. He had given her the garter for her birthday, wrapped in gift paper as if it were something innocent, and she had debuted it that same night with him between her legs and the garter marking her skin.

Caleb looked at her from the stage, saw the white garter, and almost swallowed the microphone.

— Fuck... you bitch. — he said quietly, and the audience applauded, thinking it was part of the song.

The third song was the longest. A nine-minute track with a guitar solo that usually bored Caleb, but that night it came in handy because he needed time to get rid of the erection he couldn't hide under his black jeans. He turned his back to the audience during the solo, pretending to adjust the microphone cable, and took the opportunity to look at Mc from behind. She was still at the bar, now standing, one knee slightly bent, her long hair falling over one shoulder. Her silhouette was tiny, barely five feet one, but her curves drew an hourglass: narrow waist, wide hips, the round ass that was outlined under the black dress. And her breasts. God, her breasts. Caleb's throat went dry every time he looked at them, and that night, he had spent half an hour before the concert staring at them over her clothes while she sucked his cock in the dressing room.

Mc twirled a strand of her straight hair around her finger, and looked at him with a mix of hunger and tenderness that churned Caleb's guts. Because it wasn't just sex. It never had been. When they had been dating for three months, he still slept with his face pressed to her chest, listening to her heartbeat, and she would run her fingers through his gel-and-sweat-stiffened hair after concerts. She was the only one who had seen Caleb cry, and he was the only one who had seen Mc without her mask, with that broken doll face she sometimes got when she thought about everything they had been through together. That's why now, while he provoked her from the stage with obscene gestures and she responded by rubbing her thighs under her dress, there was something more than lust. There was a promise: tonight, after all the noise, he was going to undress her slowly, grope her entire body, call her little slut while she moaned, and then hold her until dawn.

The fourth song never came.

Because Caleb, in the middle of the drum solo, threw the microphone to the floor (he never did that, it cost three months of savings) and jumped off the stage. Literally jumped. He landed on the dance floor with his black boots making a dull thud, the crowd parting with shoves, and he crossed the entire room in six strides until he reached the bar where Mc was trying to look calm and failing.

He grabbed her by the waist before she could say anything. Lifted her as if she weighed forty-four pounds, sat her on the edge of the bar between two beer stains, and planted himself between her open legs. Her dress rode up to her waist. The white garter was exposed. And underneath, naked, wet, perfect.

— See what you do to me? — he said to her with his voice wrecked, and Mc felt his hard cock against her thigh, separated only by the fabric of his jeans.

Someone whistled. Someone else shouted "get a room!". The band kept playing without him, used to Caleb doing crazy things. Mc wrapped her arms around Caleb's neck and pulled him toward her. She felt his nipple piercing through the mesh and his shirt. Felt his warm breath, smelling of mint and desire.

— Take me home — she said.

— I'm not going to wait until we get there — he replied, and bit her neck.

They left through the back door of the bar, which opened onto an alley full of garbage bags and an orange cat that looked at them with indifference. Caleb held her hand tightly, pulling her as if afraid she might disappear if he didn't drag her along. Mc trotted behind him in her platform boots, laughing softly, because she knew that as soon as they opened the apartment door, he would devour her whole.

The apartment was three blocks away. A fourth floor walk-up with no elevator, a wooden door that was always hard to open because you had to hit it with your hip. Mc put the key in, Caleb pushed her against the door as soon as they got in, and the sound of the lock was the signal that the outside world had ceased to exist.

He turned her around and pinned her to the hallway wall. The wall was cold, but Caleb's body burned. He held both her wrists with one hand (he could, his hands were large, calloused from rehearsals) and lifted her just enough so her feet didn't touch the floor. Mc let out a sharp moan when he pressed against her and rubbed his crotch against hers, dress between them.

— Did you like it? — Caleb asked, his voice hot against her ear. — Did you like seeing me up there like a little dog while you were rubbing yourself like a little slut at the bar?

Mc's stomach clenched. It always happened when he used that word. "Little slut." He said it with contempt but with adoration, as if it were the prettiest insult in the dictionary.

— Yes — she answered, while he let go of one of her wrists to put two fingers in her mouth for her to suck. — I loved it.

Caleb pulled his wet fingers out and lowered them directly to her cunt, under her dress because Mc wasn't wearing panties. She was soaked. She had been soaked all night. Ever since she gave him the blowjob in the dressing room, ever since he looked at her with his tongue on the microphone, ever since he jumped off the stage like a madman.

— So wet — he said, moving his fingers inside her easily, while she clung to his shoulders so she wouldn't fall. And then he added, darker — That's how I want you, little slut.

She moaned and arched her back, offering him her breasts. Caleb let go of her wrists and lowered his head to bite the fabric of her dress over her left nipple. She could feel everything through the thin fabric: his teeth, his tongue piercing, the heat of his mouth. But it wasn't enough.

— Take me to bed — she asked.

The hallway walls were covered in band posters, a cracked mirror, and Caleb's leather jacket hanging from a broken hook. They staggered to the bedroom, kissing so hard they bumped into the doorframe. The bedroom was small: a queen bed against the wall, a nightstand with an ashtray full of purple cigarette butts, a shelf of vinyl records, and several of Caleb's hoodies thrown on the floor. Mc had hung warm fairy lights over the headboard, because she said without them the room looked like a cell.

Caleb let her go for a second on the bed. Just a second. Just long enough to take off his denim vest, which fell to the floor with a metallic clatter of studs, and to rip his T-shirt over his head. Underneath was the black mesh, clinging to his muscular torso, his dark nipples peeking through the holes. The nipple piercing on his left gleamed in the warm light. Mc propped herself up on her elbows just to look at him, and the sight made her squeeze her thighs together.

— I want to see all of you — she said.

Caleb pulled down his black jeans with one hand, not taking his eyes off her. He wasn't wearing underwear. His cock sprang out hard, pointing at her, the head wet, veins visible along the shaft. Mc bit her lip. She still tasted him in her throat from the blowjob, and she already wanted him again.

— You first — Caleb commanded, leaning over her to take off her dress.

He did it slowly, lying about the urgency. Lifted the black fabric up over her hips, revealing the white garter, her pubic hair trimmed into a small triangle, her thick but firm thighs. The dress went over her head and flew toward the chair. Mc was left with only the garter and the boots, which he unstrapped and threw to the floor. She was completely naked, but he took his time looking at her sex. First he looked at her black eyes, then her full lips, then her neck, which he would grab in a moment. And then, finally, her breasts.

They were large. Too large for her tiny waist. Round, heavy, with pink, already hard nipples surrounded by small areolae. Caleb's face lit up in an almost religious way. He lay down on her without removing the black mesh, and buried his face between her breasts with a hoarse moan.

— They're mine — he said, and it wasn't a question.

— They're yours — she replied, arching her back.

He sucked her right nipple fiercely. Used his teeth, then his tongue, then his teeth again, while his free hand caressed her other breast, pinching the nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Mc grabbed his head, threaded her fingers through his brown hair, and pulled when he bit harder.

— Like that, Daddy — she let out.

It was the word that drove him crazy. Caleb lifted his face, his violet eyes almost black from dilation, and spat directly onto the nipple he had just been sucking. The saliva dripped down the curve of her breast, and he wiped it with his thumb only to lick again.

— Say it again — he demanded.

— Daddy — Mc repeated, lower, warmer.

Caleb kissed her. He kissed her while one hand traveled down her stomach, while two fingers entered her without any more preparation because she was already drenched. He kissed her with tongue, with bites, with excess saliva that dripped down their chins. And while he kissed her, he slid his other hand along her side until he reached her neck.

He grabbed it.

He didn't squeeze. His long, ring-covered fingers circled her neck like a collar of flesh, just below her jaw, pressing the sides without touching her trachea. Mc felt the heat of his fingers, the hardness of his knuckles, and her entire body responded with a spasm of pleasure. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was above her, the black mesh plastered to his sweaty chest, his labret piercing glinting, his eyeshadow smeared to his cheeks, and that hungry animal expression that only she knew.

— Do you want more, little slut? — he asked, his hand squeezing gently, a little firmer than before.

Mc nodded. She couldn't speak well with the pressure on her neck, but she let out a sharp moan and a broken "yes."

Caleb let her go for a second to rip off the black mesh in one tug. The fabric tore on one side, but he didn't care. He was naked above her, his white skin covered in freckles, the dark happy trail running from his navel to the base of his cock, his quadriceps tensed, his hips bony. And he put his hand back on her neck.

— That's how I like you — he said, his voice fractured with excitement. — With my hand on your neck and your big tits pressed against my chest.

He lowered his head to spit into her mouth. Hemos did it carefully, with aim, squeezing her jaw to make her open. Mc opened her mouth and received the warm spit on her tongue. She swallowed it and smiled. Her lips were swollen, her eyes wet, her doll face perfectly messy.

— More — she asked, teasing.

Caleb spit again, dirtier, slower. This time a little landed on her cheek, and he wiped it with his finger only to put the finger in her mouth. Mc sucked. He moaned.

— You're going to make me come just with that mouth — he said.

— I'm not going to do anything — she replied, defiant. — I want you to come inside me.

Caleb let out a low growl and pushed himself up enough to align his cock with her entrance. Mc felt the tip brush against her clitoris, and she arched her hips to ask for more. But he didn't enter. He stayed there, rubbing the tip against her wetness, looking down at her with half-closed violet eyes.

— Tell me what you are — he ordered.

— Your little slut — she answered without hesitation.

Caleb penetrated her in a single thrust. Slow but deep, so deep that Mc had to bite her arm to keep from screaming. He filled her like nothing else did. His cock was thick, and she felt every centimeter opening her, stretching her, brushing against her inner walls as if he had been molded for her inside. They stayed still for a second, him buried to the hilt, and he rested his forehead against hers.

— I love you — he said, and it sounded so sincere and so out of place after so much perversion that Mc's eyes filled with tears.

— I love you too — she whispered.

Then he began to move.

The thrusts were long, complete, each time he almost pulled all the way out and then pushed back in with a snap of his hips that made the bedsprings creak. Mc hooked her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his kidneys, and he responded by slipping a hand under her buttock to lift her slightly and change the angle. He found the spot. She let out a sharp cry and clung to his shoulders.

— There — she stammered. — There, yes, Daddy, don't stop.

He didn't stop. But he didn't speed up either. He wanted it to last. He wanted to see her face while he moved inside her body, while his cock sank again and again into her tight, hot cunt. That's why he grabbed her neck again, not to choke, but to feel her swallow against his palm, to feel her pulse accelerate beneath his fingers.

— Look at me — he ordered.

Mc opened her eyes. She looked at him, sweaty, his piercings moving with the rhythm of the thrusts, his freckles almost erased by the flush of excitement. She looked at him and felt the orgasm rising like a tide. It wasn't just her cunt. It was his hand on her neck, the word little slut floating in the air, him saying I love you right after spitting in her mouth.

— I'm going to come — she warned, her voice broken.

— Come — said Caleb, and squeezed his hand a little tighter on her neck, just a little, just enough for her to feel the dizziness.

Mc came with a long, sharp moan, almost a cry, arching her back against the mattress, squeezing her legs around him as if she wanted to fuse with his hips. The spasms coursed through her entire body, from her thighs to her nipples, and Caleb felt her cunt close around him in waves, squeezing him.

He waited for her to come down. Let go of her neck. Stroked her cheek with his trembling fingers, and she turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand. Then he started moving again, faster, more erratic. He needed to come. He needed her.

— In my mouth — she suddenly asked, and Caleb almost pulled out.

— Are you sure?

— I want your cum in my mouth, Daddy. I want to swallow it like before.

Caleb pulled out of her with a pained moan, straddled her chest, and she looked down at his cock, glistening, wet with her own fluids, and opened her mouth. Caleb masturbated quickly, two, three strokes, while she stuck out her tongue and looked up at him with those broken-doll black eyes. He came in her mouth with a ragged moan, and she caught every drop, swallowed, licked the head until he had to pull away from the overstimulation.

Then they both collapsed onto the bed. Caleb on his back, Mc pressed to his side, her cheek resting on his sweaty shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her against his body. His other arm fell across his own stomach, where the happy trail was sticky with sweat and with her.

They lay in silence for a while. Only their ragged breathing could be heard, and in the distance, a car horn from Linkon.

— Did you like the concert? — Caleb asked, laughing softly.

— I didn't watch the concert — said Mc. — I only watched you.

Caleb smiled. His smile was crooked because of his labret piercing, and the freckles crinkled around his violet eyes. Mc lifted her head to look at him, and was fascinated by the way he looked back at her: as if she were the only person in the world who understood him, the only one who didn't ask him to be less weird, less perverted, less Caleb.

— Do you want water? — he asked.

— In a while.

Caleb sat up a little to reach the nightstand, grabbed a water bottle (almost empty, from the day before), and took a couple of sips. Then he brought it to Mc's lips, and she drank the rest. He lay her back down carefully, and this time he turned on his side to face her. He traced her stomach with his fingertips, down to her pubic hair, up to her breasts, down again.

— You're so beautiful — he said, and it wasn't an empty compliment. He said it with the same intensity with which he had grabbed her neck hours before.

— you too — she replied, touching his eyebrow piercing.

Caleb laughed. He laughed through his nose, with his eyes closed, as if embarrassed. And then, without transition, he put his hand back on her neck. Gently. Just resting.

— Again? — Mc asked with a smile.

— Again — he confirmed.

And before the second round began (and the third, because Caleb was twenty-five and had a girlfriend who looked at him as if he were a god), he rested his forehead against hers and said something that was only heard in the dimness of the fourth-floor walk-up in the middle of Linkon, with the fairy lights flickering above their heads.

— Thank you for being my first everything.

Mc didn't answer. She just kissed him. And then he moved his hand from her neck to her breasts, and she opened her legs again, and the night grew longer than any text could ever tell.

†┏┛━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┗┓†

It's my first time writing something like this... I hope it's to your liking, please let me know if you enjoy this type of writing too! (,,>﹏<,,)

All this was written under the song that represents Caleb, that is, "Like Animals by bts", whenever I listen to it I think of Caleb.

[cherrymikoo]

OKAY I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING DECENT TO SAY... I FEEL INSPIRED SO TODAY THERE WON'T BE ANYTHING FROM MY LITTLE ONES! SJKSKQOSPOSWPPQWISOWOW DON'T EXPECT ANYTHING SOFT, TODAY YOU EAT FAMILY.

[cherrymikoo]

ur posts are my everything 😭 i look forward to them sm

Thank you very much really.... I hope you continue to enjoy the things I write, your words really mean a lot to me! I hope to continue giving content to your liking! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Thank you for your message! I like the messages, hehe. 🩷

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: Four years old.

Caleb: Seven years old.

We're The Same. (๑꧆◡꧆๑)

The idea popped into Mc's head one afternoon, while she was watching Caleb read on the sofa. He was wearing his blue hoodie, the same one as always, the one she had seen him in hundreds of times. She was wearing her pink hoodie, the one with the bunnies, her favorite.

And suddenly, something clicked inside her.

—Caleb —she said, putting her blocks down on the floor.

Caleb looked up from his book.

—What's wrong, Princess?

—We're not the same.

Caleb looked at her. She pointed at her pink hoodie, then at his blue one.

—You have blue. I have pink. We're not the same.

—And do we have to be the same?

—Yes. Boyfriends and girlfriends dress the same.

Caleb raised an eyebrow.

—Who said that?

—Me —said Mc, with crushing logic— Just now.

Caleb smiled, that small smile that only she ever saw.

—Okay, Princess. What do you want to do?

—I want matching dresses. Or matching hoodies. Or matching pants. Or everything matching.

—Like twins?

—Like boyfriend and girlfriend. Boyfriends and girlfriends dress the same. So people know they're together.

Caleb thought that maybe that wasn't exactly how it worked, but he wasn't going to argue. Not with Mc.

—And how do we get matching clothes? —he asked.

—Jojo —said Mc, as if it were obvious— Jojo buys them.

And so, that night during dinner, Mc announced with all solemnity.

—Jojo, we need to go to the mall.

Josephine looked up from her plate.

—To the mall? Why, my love?

—To buy matching clothes. For Caleb and me.

—Matching clothes?

—Yes. Boyfriend and girlfriend clothes. Boyfriends and girlfriends dress the same.

Josephine looked at Caleb for help. Caleb shrugged, with an expression that said "it wasn't me."

—And who told you that boyfriends and girlfriends dress the same? —asked Josephine.

—Me —said Mc— I made it up. But it's true.

Josephine wanted to argue, but then she remembered who her daughter was. It wasn't worth it. She smiled and shook her head.

—Okay, my love. Tomorrow we'll go to the mall.

Mc let out a scream of joy that almost knocked the glasses off the table.

The next day, after breakfast, the three of them got ready to go out. Josephine put on comfortable clothes, because she knew it was going to be a long day. Caleb put on his blue hoodie, the same one as always. Mc put on her pink hoodie, the one with the bunnies.

—But we're going to buy matching clothes —protested Mc— We shouldn't wear different clothes.

—That's the clothes we're wearing to the store, my love —Josephine explained— Later we'll try on the new ones.

—Oh —said Mc, accepting the logic— Okay.

In the car, Mc didn't stop talking.

—We're going to buy matching hoodies. And matching pants. And matching sneakers.

—Matching sneakers? —asked Caleb— But you wear girl sneakers and I wear boy sneakers.

—Doesn't matter, boyfriends and girlfriends wear the same.

—But your sneakers are pink.

—Then you wear pink.

Caleb fell silent. He pictured himself in pink sneakers. It wasn't an image he particularly liked. But it was Mc asking.

—Okay —he said— Pink sneakers.

—No —said Mc, and Caleb felt a huge relief— White is better. White with lights. So we both wear white.

—White? —asked Caleb, surprised by the change.

—Yes. White is prettier. And the lights are so they shine. Like us.

Caleb smiled. White. He could do white.

—Okay —he said— White light-up sneakers.

—Really? —asked Josephine, through the rearview mirror.

—Mc wants it —said Caleb, as if that explained everything.

They arrived at the mall. Mc was in her stroller, because the place was huge and she got tired quickly. Caleb walked beside her, pushing it, like always.

—Where do we start? —asked Josephine.

—Clothes —said Mc— Matching clothes.

They went to a big store, the kind that has everything. Josephine took them to the children's section and started looking at the options.

—What about these t-shirts? —she asked, showing some white ones with stripes.

—No —said Mc— I want bunnies.

—Bunnies?

—Yes, I like bunnies, and Caleb likes whatever I like.

Caleb nodded, with a resigned smile.

—Okay —said Josephine— We'll look for bunnies.

They walked through the store. Josephine checked the racks, Mc pointed from her stroller, Caleb walked behind, watching everything.

—There! —shouted Mc, pointing at a shelf.

Josephine went over. There were hoodies in different colors, all with a small bunny embroidered on the chest. They were soft, cotton, perfect.

—What color? —asked Josephine.

Mc thought for a moment. She liked pink, but would Caleb wear pink? She looked at her brother.

—Caleb —she said— What color do you want?

Caleb looked at the hoodies. There was blue, green, yellow, gray, pink. He knew Mc loved pink. He knew she would be happier if he wore pink too. But he also knew the kids at school would make fun of him.

—Pink —he said, without hesitation.

Mc's eyes lit up.

—Pink? Really?

—Really.

—Like mine?

—Like yours.

Mc clapped from the stroller, happy.

—Pink! Caleb is going to wear pink!

Josephine looked at them tenderly. She knew how hard that decision was for Caleb. She knew the kids at school might tease him. But she also knew that for Caleb, Mc's happiness came before everything.

—Two pinks —said Josephine, taking the hoodies— Size S for Caleb, size XS for Mc.

They kept walking. Mc wanted matching pants. They found some gray joggers, comfortable, that went with everything. Josephine took two.

—Sneakers? —asked Mc.

—Matching sneakers? —asked Josephine.

—Yes, white with lights. Caleb said yes.

Caleb nodded. He had already accepted his fate.

They went to the shoe store. Mc chose white sneakers with little lights that lit up when you stepped. They were shiny, perfect. Caleb tried on the same ones, but in his size.

—Do you like them? —asked Josephine.

Caleb looked at his feet, white sneakers with little lights.

—Yes —he said— Mc likes them.

—But do you like them?

Caleb looked at Mc. She was watching him from the stroller, her eyes full of hope.

—I love them —he said.

Mc smiled, radiant.

—We're the same! —she shouted— Matching boyfriend and girlfriend!

Josephine paid and they left the store with the bags. Mc was exhausted, but happy.

—Can we put the clothes on now? —she asked.

—At home, my love —said Josephine— when we get there.

On the drive back, Mc fell asleep in her car seat, with Copito in her arms and a smile on her lips. Caleb watched her from the seat next to her.

—Caleb —Josephine said softly— You don't mind that the sneakers have lights?

Caleb shook his head.

—No, she's happy, That's what matters.

Josephine felt her heart swell.

—You're a good boyfriend, Caleb.

—I know —he said, with a small smile— That's why she chose me.

They got home. Josephine helped Mc wake up and took her to her room. They took the new clothes out of the bags and laid them on the bed.

Two pink bunny hoodies, two gray joggers, two pairs of white light-up sneakers.

—Put them on —said Mc, jumping on the bed.

Josephine helped Mc get dressed. Caleb got dressed alone in his room.

When they came out, they looked at each other.

They were the same. Pink hoodie, gray pants, white light-up sneakers, the same colors, the same bunnies, the same lights that sparkled with every step.

—Caleb —said Mc, her eyes shining— We're the same.

—We're the same.

—Now everyone will know you're my boyfriend.

—Everyone.

Mc ran to him and threw herself into his arms. Caleb caught her mid-air and hugged her tight.

—I love you, boyfriend.

—I love you too, girlfriend.

Josephine watched them from the doorway, phone in hand, recording. She had already filled her phone with videos of them, but they were never enough.

—Can you pose for a picture? —she asked.

Mc nodded and pressed herself against Caleb, he wrapped an arm around her, they both smiled.

Josephine took the picture, the two of them in their pink hoodies, their gray pants, their white light-up sneakers. Mc with her huge smile, Caleb with that small smile that only she could bring out.

—I'm going to frame it —said Josephine.

—So everyone can see —said Mc.

—So everyone can see —Josephine confirmed.

That night, Mc refused to take off her new clothes to sleep.

—My love, the clothes will get wrinkled —said Josephine.

—I don't care, I want to sleep the same as Caleb.

—Caleb already put his pajamas on.

—Then he should put the hoodie back on.

Caleb, who was in the bedroom and heard the conversation, sighed, took off his pajamas, and put the pink hoodie back on.

—Happy? —he asked, looking at her.

—Yes —said Mc, happily.

Josephine looked at the two of them, in their pink hoodies, ready to sleep.

—You're both equally silly —she said, but with a huge smile.

—We're boyfriend and girlfriend —Mc corrected.

—Silly and boyfriend and girlfriend.

—That's the best.

Josephine said good night and turned off the light.

In the dark, Mc called out to Caleb.

—Caleb.

—Tell me, Princess.

—Tomorrow we're going to wear the matching clothes to go out.

—Okay.

—And people will know.

—They'll know.

—And no one will say anything bad.

—No one.

—And if they do?

—Then I'll tell them you're my girlfriend and that boyfriends and girlfriends wear matching clothes.

Mc smiled in the dark.

—You're the best boyfriend.

—And you're the best girlfriend.

—Good night, Caleb.

—Good night, Princess.

And they fell asleep, with their pink hoodies, their gray pants, and their white light-up sneakers waiting for the new day.

The next day, they followed through, they went to the park in their matching clothes. People looked at them, some smiled, others looked confused, but Mc didn't care, she walked holding Caleb's hand, her white sneakers stomping hard, the little lights sparkling with every step, showing the world that she had the best boyfriend in the universe.

And Caleb, walking beside her, felt proud, because she was happy, and that was all that mattered.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯

hi! I wasn't very inspired but I wanted to upload something, I hope you like it... ╥⌓╥

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: Four years old.

Caleb: Seven years old.

The Promise. ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

That night, something felt heavy on Mc's heart. It wasn't a physical pain, the kind that gets healed with a kiss from Caleb or a caress from Josephine. It was a small worry, tiny, like a little pebble in your shoe that won't let you walk peacefully. She had been turning it over in her mind all day, ever since she'd overheard a conversation at the park.

Two elderly ladies were talking, sitting on a bench while their grandchildren played. Mc was nearby, fixing Snowy in the sand, not meaning to listen, but listening anyway.

—Children grow up so fast —said one— One day they're little and the next they're leaving home.

—Oh, I know —replied the other— Mine don't need me for anything anymore. Each one has their own life.

Mc had looked up at that moment. "Don't need me," "each one has their own life," "leaving home." The words sounded distant but terrifying. She looked at Caleb, who was on the swing, reading his book like always. Was he going to leave too? Was he going to have a life apart from her?

She hadn't said anything at the time. She had kept playing, hugging Copito against her chest, tucking the worry away in some corner of her tummy. But now, in the darkness of the bedroom, with her pacifier in her mouth and the empty bottle on the nightstand, the worry had grown.

—Caleb —she called softly.

Caleb was in his bed, reading with a small flashlight so he wouldn't wake her. He heard her voice and put the book down immediately.

—What's wrong, Princess? Can't sleep?

—No.

Caleb got up and went to her bed. He sat on the edge, like he always did, and waited.

Mc didn't say anything at first. She looked at him with her huge blackish-green eyes, shining in the dim light. She hugged Copito (her little stuffed bunny) against her chest.

—Caleb —she said, in a voice so small it was almost a whisper— Are you going to leave?

—Leave? Go where?

—I don't know. To your house. When you're big.

Caleb frowned, confused.

—Princess, this is my house. I live here. With Jojo and you.

—But the ladies at the park said children grow up and leave.

Caleb understood then. He saw the worry in her eyes, the way she was squeezing Copito, the tremble of her lower lip.

—Mc —he said, in a voice softer than ever— Come here.

Mc sat up in bed, and Caleb lifted her onto his lap. They got comfortable like always: her tummy against his, her head resting on his chest. Caleb wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her hair.

—Listen to me, Princess. I'm never going to leave you.

—Never?

—Never. When I'm big, I'm going to live close to you. I'm going to come see you every day. I'll take you to school, I'll make you snacks, I'll give you kisses before bed.

—And when you get married?

—I'm not marrying anyone who isn't you.

—But Jojo said brothers and sisters don't get married.

—We're not siblings by blood, Princess. Jojo said we could do whatever we wanted when we grew up.

—So we can?

—Yes, Princess. We can.

Mc lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were searching for the truth, searching for a promise she could keep forever.

—Do you promise me? —she asked, her voice trembling.

—I promise you —said Caleb— I'm never going to leave you. I'm always going to be with you.

—Always?

—Always.

Mc smiled, a small, trembling smile, and rested her head on his chest again.

—Good night, Caleb —she whispered.

—Good night, Princess.

And she fell asleep in his lap, with the promise still warm in her ears.

Caleb stayed awake for a long time after she fell asleep. He couldn't sleep. Mc's words kept spinning in his head: "Are you going to leave?"

He imagined himself growing up, leaving home, leaving Mc behind. The image hurt him physically, like a stab in the chest. No. He couldn't. It wasn't going to happen.

At some point during the night, while Mc slept and the moon came through the window, Caleb knew what he had to do.

The next day, as soon as he woke up, he went to his desk. He took out a white sheet of paper, the biggest he could find, and his crayons. He sat on the floor of his bedroom, his back against the bed, and began to draw.

He wasn't good at drawing. Dinosaurs came out okay, but people... people always looked weird. Heads too big, arms too long, legs crooked. But that didn't matter. What mattered was what the drawing meant.

He drew a church. He didn't really know what a church looked like, but he drew a big building with a pointy roof and a cross on top. He drew flowers on the sides, because at weddings there were flowers. He drew a big sun in the sky, smiling.

Then he drew two people in the center.

One was him. He drew himself taller, bigger, with his violet eyes and his freckles. He was wearing a black suit with a red tie. Next to him, he drew Mc. He drew her in a long white dress, with a veil and everything. Her eyes were two huge circles, and her mouth was a curved smiling line.

Underneath them, he wrote in shaky handwriting: "Mc and Caleb".

Then, all around, he drew little girls. Lots of little girls. With colorful dresses, with ribbons in their hair, with enormous smiles. He counted five. He didn't know why five, but five seemed like a good number.

Under the little girls, he wrote: "Little Princesses".

When he finished, he looked at his work. It was ugly. The proportions were off, the colors went outside the lines, the little princesses looked more like monsters than little girls. But it was his. It was his promise made into a drawing.

He folded the paper carefully and hid it under his pillow. He would wait for the perfect moment to give it to her.

The moment came that night, after bath time, when Mc was on his lap drinking her bottle. Caleb watched her for a while, seeing how her eyes slowly closed, how her breathing became slower.

—Princess —he said softly.

—Mmm? —she replied, without opening her eyes.

—I made you a drawing.

Mc opened her eyes. She sat up a little, looking at him curiously.

—A drawing? For me?

—For you.

Caleb helped her sit to the side, went to his room, and came back with the folded paper. He handed it to her with trembling hands.

—Open it.

Mc unfolded the paper carefully, as if it were something sacred. Her eyes slowly went over the drawing, taking her time.

She saw the church. She saw the smiling sun. She saw the two figures in the center. She saw the words: "Mc and Caleb". She saw the little princesses all around. She saw the word: "Little Princesses".

—Caleb —she said, in a strange voice— What is this?

—It's us —said Caleb, embarrassed— Getting married.

—Getting married?

—Yes. In the future. When we're big.

Mc looked at the drawing again. Her eyes stopped on the little princesses.

—And them?

—They're... they're our daughters. The little princesses.

The silence that followed was eternal.

Mc didn't say anything. She just looked at the drawing, and her eyes began to fill with tears. Caleb felt panic.

—You don't like it? —he asked, his voice urgent— I'm sorry, I know it's not pretty, I'm not good at drawing, I can make another one, I can...

—Caleb —Mc interrupted, her voice breaking.

—What?

—It's the prettiest drawing in the world.

The tears fell down her cheeks, but they weren't sad tears. They were happy tears, the kind that don't hurt, the kind that only come out when your heart is so full it can't hold any more.

—Really? —asked Caleb, in disbelief.

—Really. Look, you're the groom. I'm the bride. And we have little princesses.

—Five little princesses.

—Five. That's a good number.

Caleb smiled, relieved.

—Are you going to keep it?

—Yes. Forever.

Mc pressed the drawing against her chest, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. Then, with one hand, she grabbed Caleb's shirt and pulled him close to her.

She gave him a kiss. Poc. Long, loud, full of all the love her four-year-old heart could hold.

—I love you, Caleb —she said.

—I love you too, Princess.

—Are you going to leave me when you grow up?

—Never.

Mc smiled, tucked the drawing under her pillow — next to Copito, because that was where the treasures went — and lay down.

—Caleb —she said, her eyes closed.

—Tell me, Princess.

—Can we have real little princesses?

—When we're big.

—And will they be named like the ones in the drawing?

—Whatever you want.

—One is going to be named Copito.

—Copito is a good name.

—Another is going to be named Little Bunny.

—That too.

—Another is going to be named Little Mc.

Caleb laughed softly.

—Little Mc is a beautiful name.

—I know —said Mc, almost asleep— Because I made it up.

Caleb stayed looking at her for a while. He saw the bulge of the drawing under the pillow, the way her hand was holding it while she slept, the smile on her lips.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Then another on her tummy. Then another on her lips.

—Good night, Princess.

—Good night —she murmured.

And she fell asleep, dreaming of churches, white dresses, and five little princesses running through a garden.

Caleb went back to his bed, but before sleeping, he looked toward the window. The moon was high, bright, just like the night he had made the promise.

—Never —he whispered— I'm never leaving her.

And he fell asleep with the certainty that this was the only truth that mattered.

The next day, when Josephine went to wake them, she found Mc already awake, sitting on her bed, looking at a folded piece of paper.

—What do you have there, my love? —she asked.

—A drawing —said Mc, showing it to her proudly— Caleb gave it to me.

Josephine took the paper and looked at it. She saw the church, the sun, the figures, the words. She saw Caleb and Mc getting married. She saw the five little princesses.

Her eyes filled with tears.

—It's beautiful —she said, her voice hoarse.

—I know —said Mc— Caleb made it for me to promise he'll never leave me.

Josephine looked at Caleb, who was awake in his bed, smiling sheepishly.

—Is it true, Caleb?

—Yes —he said— I'm never leaving her.

Josephine didn't say anything. She just hugged them both, squeezing them against her chest, feeling the beat of their hearts.

—You're the best thing that ever happened to me —she whispered.

And in that moment, with the three of them hugging, Caleb's promise floating in the air, and the drawing saved forever, the world felt complete.

That night, Mc looked at the drawing again before sleeping. She unfolded it carefully, looked at it in the moonlight, and smiled.

—Caleb —she called.

Caleb, who was already in his bed, answered.

—Tell me, Princess.

—Tomorrow we're going to draw another one.

—Another one?

—Yes. One where the little princesses are bigger. So we can see them grow.

Caleb smiled in the dark.

—Okay, Princess. Tomorrow we'll draw another one.

—And then another one.

—And then another one.

—Until we're really big.

—Until we're really big.

Mc tucked the drawing under her pillow, hugged Copito, and closed her eyes.

She dreamed of Caleb, of a white dress, of five little girls running through a garden. And in her dream, they were all laughing, all together, and no one ever left.

No one.

• ─────────── ✾ ─────────── •

If I knew how to draw I would draw all this, but I only know how to write and think about Caleb, hehehe. (〃￣ω￣〃)

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: Four years old.

Caleb: Seven years old.

The Pampering. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Caleb's lap was, to Mc, the safest place in the world, there was no bed, pillow, or couch that could compete with that warm and perfect space that formed when her brother sat down and she settled on top of him. But it wasn't just the lap. It was everything that came with it: the hands that held her, the voice that whispered sweet words to her, the lips that left kisses on her forehead, on her tummy, on her lips.

It was the pampering. the infinite pampering that Caleb gave her every day.

No one in the house pampered Mc like Caleb did. Josephine pampered her, yes, with hugs and songs and dinosaur-shaped pancakes. But Caleb pampered her in a different way. With total devotion, infinite patience, a devotion that bordered on sacred.

And Mc knew it. She knew it and enjoyed it with all the innocence of her four years.

The ritual began every night, after bath time. Mc came out of the shower wrapped in her little bear towel, her hair dripping and her bare feet marking the path to the bedroom. Josephine dried her, put lotion on her, dressed her in the bunny pajamas. And then, when everything was ready, came the moment.

—Caleb —Mc called from her bed.

Caleb appeared in the doorway, as if he had been waiting.

—Ready, Princess?

—Ready.

Caleb sat on Mc's bed, leaned his back against the headboard, stretched out his legs. Mc climbed onto his lap with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times. She got comfortable, rested her head on his chest, placed her tummy against his. And then, with everything in place, it began.

—Your milk? —Caleb asked.

—Yes.

Caleb reached for the bottle that was always on the nightstand. He held it with one hand, while with the other he wrapped around Mc, holding her, enveloping her. She took the nipple with her lips and began to suckle slowly.

Caleb watched her. He always watched her. He liked to see how her eyes slowly closed, how her breathing became slower, how her body relaxed against his. He liked to see the milk bubble that sometimes formed at the corner of her lips, the white stain left on her cheek when it dribbled.

—I love you, Princess —Caleb whispered.

Mc didn't answer, but her lips kept suckling, and that was answer enough.

Sometimes Caleb talked to her while she drank her milk. Not about important things, not about things she needed to remember. Just sweet words, the kind Mc liked.

—You're the prettiest little girl in the world —he whispered against her hair— You have the biggest, prettiest eyes I've ever seen, your tummy is the best tummy in the universe.

Mc smiled against the bottle, without opening her eyes.

—And your feet —Caleb continued— Your feet are so tiny, so chubby, so perfect. They look like two freshly baked rolls.

—Caleb —Mc interrupted, her voice drowsy— Rolls don't have toes.

—Yours do. That's why they're special.

Mc laughed, a little milk escaping from the corner of her lips, and Caleb wiped it away with the tip of his finger.

Other times, the sweet words were simpler. Deeper.

—I'm here —Caleb said— I'm not letting you go. Ever.

And Mc held the bottle tighter, as if those words were the only thing she needed to feel complete.

When the bottle was empty, Caleb set it aside. But Mc didn't move. She stayed with her head resting on his chest, her eyes closed, her breathing slow.

—Are you falling asleep, Princess? —Caleb asked.

—No —she said, but she was already half asleep.

Caleb smiled. Then began the second part of the ritual: the kisses.

They weren't quick kisses, like the ones during the day. They were slow, soft kisses, falling on her like raindrops. A kiss on the forehead. Long, tender, that lingered a second longer. A kiss on each closed eye. A kiss on the nose. A kiss on each cheek.

—Caleb —Mc protested, her voice sleepy— Too many kisses.

—They're never too many —he replied.

A kiss on the chin. A kiss on each ear. Then, when he had covered her whole face, he went down to her tummy. The bunny pajamas lifted a little, and Caleb left a long, round kiss, right in the center.

—That's where my Princess lives —he whispered.

—No —said Mc, her eyes closed— That's where the tummy lives.

—The tummy belongs to my Princess, so that's where she lives.

Mc smiled, too sleepy to argue.

Sometimes Caleb kissed her hands, on each little finger, one by one. Ten small, quick kisses that tickled. Mc laughed, already almost asleep, and he kept going.

—Why do you give me so many kisses? —she asked, her voice breaking with sleep.

—Because you're my Princess —Caleb replied— And princesses get kisses.

—All of them?

—Only the ones who have a brother like me.

—Oh. Then just me.

—Just you.

Mc fell asleep with that certainty. And Caleb stayed a little longer, holding her, feeling her weight, her warmth, her breathing.

Sometimes, when the night was especially quiet, Caleb told her stories. Not from books, not about dinosaurs. Stories made up on the spot, with her as the main character.

—Once upon a time there was a little princess named Mc —he whispered— And the little princess had a brother who loved her more than anything in the world. And every night, the brother gave her her milk and his kisses and told her sweet things. And the little princess fell asleep happy, knowing that when she woke up, her brother would still be there.

—And what else? —Mc asked, almost asleep.

—And one day the little princess grew up. And she became big. And she married her brother, because they weren't siblings by blood, and they could do whatever they wanted. And they lived happily ever after.

—And Copito?

— Copito too. Copito was the witness at the wedding.

—And Jojo?

—Jojo was the one who married them. Because she's the mom.

—Oh —said Mc— Good ending.

—The best ending.

And Mc fell asleep with a smile, while Caleb kept holding her, not wanting to let go, saving that moment forever.

Josephine, who sometimes watched them from the doorway, felt her heart fill until it was about to burst. Her seven-year-old boy, so serious with the world, so tough with everyone, turned into the most tender person in the universe when it came to his sister.

—Caleb —she told him once— you're going to spoil her.

—Spoil her?

—Yes. You give her everything she asks for. You pamper her too much.

Caleb looked at her with his violet eyes.

—It's not spoiling her —he said— It's loving her.

—There's a difference.

—Not to me.

Josephine didn't know what to say. Because when she saw Mc sleeping in his lap, with kisses on her forehead and sweet words in her ears, she couldn't think that was a bad thing.

One night, Mc was especially restless. She couldn't sleep, she tossed and turned, she fussed. She had had a difficult day, one of those days when the world feels too big and you feel too small.

—Caleb —she called from her bed, her voice filled with distress.

Caleb came in seconds.

—What's wrong, Princess?

—I can't sleep.

—Do you want your milk?

—No.

—A story?

—No.

—Kisses?

—Yes. Lots of kisses.

Caleb sat on the bed, lifted her onto his lap, and began. The kisses fell on her like a gentle rain. On her forehead, on her eyes, on her nose, on her cheeks. And between kiss and kiss, the sweet words.

—You're okay. You're safe. I'm here. I'm not letting you go.

Mc slowly calmed down. Her breathing became slower, her shoulders relaxed.

—Caleb —she whispered— Keep going.

—I love you, Princess. More than dinosaurs. More than books. More than everything.

—More than yogurts?

—Way more than yogurts.

Mc smiled against his chest.

—Then it's okay.

And she fell asleep, finally, with the kisses still warm on her skin and the sweet words echoing in her dreams.

Caleb stayed there all night. He didn't let her go. He didn't move. He just held her, watched her, cared for her.

Because that was who he was. That was Caleb. The serious boy who became the most tender when it came to his Princess. The brother who pampered without measure, who gave without asking, who loved without conditions.

The next morning, Mc woke up in her bed, alone, but knowing Caleb had been there. She knew because her bottle was on the nightstand, because Snowy was tucked in beside her, because on her forehead she could still feel the echo of the kisses.

She went down to the kitchen and found Caleb having breakfast.

—Good morning, Princess —he said.

—Good morning, Caleb —she answered.

And she sat beside him, waiting for him to finish eating so she could climb onto his lap again.

Because that's what they did. Every night. Every day. Every moment.

Caleb pampered, Mc received. And for a moment, the world was perfect.

─────────── ♡ ───────────

again with my little ones... someday I will write about them in a different way! hehehe, Thank you for your support! (๑>ᴗ<๑)

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: four years old.

Caleb: seven years old.

the art of saying yes. ヾ(＾-＾)ノ YES!

The love Caleb had for his sister showed itself in many ways, In the kisses he gave her every night, in the way he protected her from any real or imaginary danger, in the infinite patience with which he explained the world to her, but perhaps the purest form of that love was seen in something simpler: in how he let Mc do whatever she wanted with him.

There were no limits. No conditions. Mc wanted something, Caleb said yes.

It began with the nails. Mc was four years old when she discovered colored nail polishes, Josephine had some saved in a drawer, leftovers from times when she had time to paint them, Mc found them one afternoon and her eyes lit up as if she had found a treasure.

—Jojo, what’s this? —she asked, showing a bottle of pink.

—Nail polish, my love, for painting nails.

—Can I?

—Sure, but carefully.

Josephine sat her at the table, painted her toenails first —because Mc couldn’t stay still with her hands— and then her fingernails, Mc watched the process with absolute fascination, watching how the brush left a shiny trail on her tiny nails.

When they finished, Mc held her hands out in front of her, amazed.

—Caleb —she called— Look!

Caleb came over to see, her nails, small and perfect, shone a bright pink.

—They’re pretty, princess.

—Do you like it?

—Yes.

Mc smiled, then she looked at Caleb’s hands, his nails, short and clean, were completely bare.

—Caleb —she said, a new idea shining in her eyes— Can I paint yours?

Caleb hesitated for a second, boys his age didn’t paint their nails, the boys at school made fun of things like that, but then he saw the hope in Mc’s eyes, the pure excitement, and he knew there was nothing to argue about.

—Okay, princess.

Mc jumped for joy, Josephine handed her the nail polish and Mc began her work.

It was not a clean job, the brush trembled in her small hand, the polish went outside the nails, stained her fingers, left drops on the table, but Mc was completely focused, her tongue sticking out from the corner of her lips, putting all her effort into making it look nice.

Caleb did not complain. He did not say "be careful" or "you’re getting it on me." He just left his hands on the table, still, waiting.

When Mc finished, Caleb’s nails were a mess, the polish was uneven, there were stains on his fingers, some nails had more color than others, but Mc looked at them with pride.

—They look pretty —she declared.

—Very pretty —Caleb confirmed.

And so, with his nails painted pink, Caleb went to his room to read, the next day, when the kids at school made fun of him, he just said "my sister painted them" and added nothing else, he did not take them off until Mc wanted to paint them another color.

That was the first time. Then came the hair.

Mc had seen Josephine brush her hair many times, but she had never tried to do anyone else’s hair, one Saturday morning, while Caleb was reading on the sofa, she came over with a brush in her hand.

—Caleb —she said.

Caleb looked up, he saw the brush, he saw the determination on her face.

—You want to do my hair? —he asked.

—Yes.

Caleb closed the book, he sat on the floor in front of her and waited.

Mc positioned herself behind him because that was how Josephine did it, the brush was big for her hands, but she held it with determination and began to brush.

It was not gentle, the brush tugged, tangled, sometimes got stuck. Mc pulled harder, not understanding why Caleb’s hair would not be tamed like hers.

—It’s not going —she said, frustrated.

—You have to start from the bottom —Caleb explained patiently— First the ends, then go up.

—The ends?

—Yes, that way it doesn’t hurt.

Mc tried it, this time it was better, the brush went through more easily, the tangles came undone little by little, Caleb did not complain, even though some tugs still pulled, he just waited, with his back straight, letting his sister learn.

When she finished brushing, Mc went around Caleb and stood in front of him.

—Now I’m going to put your hair in a bun —she announced.

—Okay.

Mc grabbed locks of hair that were not long enough for anything because Caleb had short hair, she twisted them, tied them with elastics that did nothing, pinned them with bobby pins that held nothing, the result was an impossible structure on Caleb’s head, a mix of standing-up hair, twisted elastics, and bobby pins about to fall out.

—Ready? —Mc asked, proud.

—Ready.

—Do you like it?

—I love it.

Mc smiled and gave him a kiss.

Caleb went to his room with that ridiculous bun on his head, Josephine saw him pass by and laughed.

—You let her do that?

—Yes.

—And you’re going to go out like that?

—If Mc wants me to go out like that, yes.

Josephine shook her head, smiling, and let it go.

They did not go out that day, but if they had, Caleb would have worn that bun with pride.

Next came the makeup.

Josephine had a small box of makeup that she barely used: colored eyeshadows, lipsticks, blush. Mc found it one day rummaging through drawers —because Mc rummaged through drawers, it was her specialty— and came out of Josephine’s room with the box in her hands and an ear-to-ear smile.

—Caleb —she called.

Caleb was in the living room finishing his homework, he looked up and saw the box.

—What’s that, princess?

—Makeup Jojo’s, to make us pretty.

Caleb knew that look, It was the look of "I’m going to do something and you’re going to say yes."

—You want to put makeup on me?

—Yes.

Caleb put his homework aside, he sat on the floor in front of her and waited.

Mc opened the box and studied its contents with the seriousness of a scientist, there were blue, green, pink shadows, red lipstick, pink lipstick, clear gloss, powder blush, eyeliners.

—Close your eyes —she ordered.

Caleb obeyed.

He felt the first touch on his eyelids, something soft, round, that left a damp feeling, It was the eyeshadow, though he did not know what color, then another color on top,then another, Mc mixed without any sense of aesthetics, just putting on colors that she thought were pretty.

—Open.

Caleb opened his eyes, Mc looked at him with satisfaction.

—Now I’m going to put lipstick on you.

She painted his lips bright red, then she put blush on his cheeks, lots of blush, until his cheekbones looked like two red apples, then, because she found a black eyeliner, she drew whiskers on him.

—Done —she announced.

Caleb looked in the mirror she handed him, his face was a collage of colors, his eyelids mixed blue, green, and pink in a combination no professional artist would have approved, his red lips contrasted with his equally red cheeks, the black whiskers completed the look.

—Do I look pretty? —he asked.

—You are the prettiest —Mc said, convinced.

—And you? Aren’t you going to put makeup on yourself?

—Yes, but you first.

Caleb waited while Mc put makeup on herself, she did it with less care than she had put into him, getting it all over her face without worrying, when they finished, the two were unrecognizable.

—Caleb —Mc said, looking at him— We look the same.

—We look the same.

—Can we show Jojo?

—We can.

They went downstairs together to the kitchen, Josephine was preparing snack time, when she saw them, she stood with the spatula in the air.

—What...?

—We made ourselves pretty —Mc explained.

Josephine opened her mouth, she closed it, then, with the same seriousness with which one receives an ambassador, she said:

—You look beautiful.

Mc smiled, radiant, Caleb smiled too, behind his black whiskers.

—Can I take a picture of you? —Josephine asked.

—Yes —the two said at the same time.

Josephine took out her phone and photographed them, Mc with her face full of colors, Caleb with his whiskers and his rainbow eyelids, both smiling as if nothing in the world was more important than that moment.

Afterwards, Josephine helped them clean up, Mc complained a little —she wanted to keep her whiskers— but in the end she accepted.

—Tomorrow I’ll put other ones on you —she promised.

—Okay —said Caleb— Tomorrow you’ll put them on me.

And so the days went by, every time Mc had a new idea, Caleb said yes.

Once, Mc wanted to dress him in her dresses, Caleb put on a pink one with ruffles and walked around the living room as if nothing.

Another time, Mc wanted to braid his short hair, Caleb sat patiently while she tugged at his locks, tied elastics that held nothing, and in the end declared that it was perfect.

Another time, Mc wanted to put stickers on his face, Caleb ended up with stars on his cheeks, hearts on his forehead, and a smile on his lips.

He never complained, he never said no, he never looked uncomfortable, even if the braids pulled, even if the dresses were too small, even if the stickers itched.

—Caleb —Josephine asked him once— Does it never bother you that Mc does whatever she wants with you?

Caleb looked at her with his violet eyes.

—No —he said— It’s her.

—And what does that mean?

—It means that if she’s happy, I’m happy.

Josephine felt her heart swell.

—Even when she paints whiskers on you?

—Especially when she paints whiskers on me.

Josephine laughed and hugged him tight.

—You are a good brother, Caleb.

—I’m her boyfriend —he corrected with a small smile— That’s more important.

One night, before sleeping, Mc was in her bed with Copito (her stuffed bunny), Caleb went to tuck her in like always.

—Caleb —she said.

—Tell me, princess.

—Why do you let me do everything with you?

—What thing?

—Paint your nails, do your hair, put makeup on you, put dresses on you.

Caleb sat on the edge of the bed.

—Because I like it.

—You like me painting your nails?

—I like that it’s you who paints them.

—And doing your hair?

—I like that you do my hair.

—Even when I make mistakes?

—Even when you make mistakes.

Mc looked at him intently.

—Caleb —she said— Do you do these things because you like them or because you love me?

Caleb smiled.

—Both, I like you doing things to me because I love you, and I love you because I like you doing things to me.

Mc processed the information.

—It’s like kisses —she said.

—Like kisses.

—I like kisses because they’re yours, and you are mine.

—Always yours.

Mc smiled and gave him a kiss.

—Good night, Caleb of the whiskers.

—Good night, makeup princess.

Mc fell asleep with a smile, and Caleb stayed for a moment looking at her, his sister, his princess, the only person in the world for whom he would put on a pink dress, paint his nails red, draw whiskers on his face, and walk around the living room with braids in his short hair.

All for her, always for her.

And while she slept, he went downstairs and found Josephine watching television, sat beside her and rested his head on her shoulder.

—Everything okay, my love? —she asked.

—Everything okay —said Caleb— Mc is happy.

—And you too.

—Yes, me too.

Josephine hugged him and they stayed like that, in silence, as the night fell around them.

Somewhere in the house, the nail polishes waited for another day, the brush was ready for another hairstyle, the makeup rested in its box.

And Caleb, the serious boy with violet eyes, was already ready to say yes once more.

୨୧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ୨୧

Thank you so much for your support of my writings... It means a lot to me. (T▽T)ノ

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: four years old.

Caleb: Seven years old.

The first kiss. ⊹.(⸝⸝ ˆ ³(⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)˚.

It was an ordinary afternoon. One of those quiet afternoons when the sun would come through the living room window and fall asleep on the carpet. Caleb was sitting on the sofa, reading his dinosaur book, with that absolute concentration he put into everything he did. Mc was playing on the floor with her blocks, building a tower that, according to her childish calculations, would reach the sky.

Josephine was in the kitchen preparing the snack. The sound of plates and the whistling of the kettle created a homey melody that wrapped the house in perfect calm.

Nothing indicated that this moment would become one of those memories you keep in your heart forever.

Mc's tower collapsed. It wasn't a dramatic collapse, just one of those silent breakdowns that happen when a poorly placed block decides it's had enough. Mc looked at the remains of her construction with a thoughtful expression, as if evaluating whether it was worth crying or not.

She decided it wasn't. She got up, left the blocks where they were, and walked towards the sofa.

—Caleb —she said, standing in front of him.

Caleb looked up from his book. —What's up, little princess?

—The tower fell down.

—Do you want me to help you make another one?

—No.

—Then?

Mc didn't answer with words. Instead, she climbed onto the sofa with difficulty — she hadn't quite mastered the technique of getting up by herself yet — and settled on Caleb's lap. It was her favorite place, the only one where the world became perfectly safe.

Caleb put the book aside without needing to be asked. When Mc sat on his lap, the book took second place. Always.

—Are you sad about the tower? —he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

—A little —she admitted, resting her head on his chest.

—We can make another one. Taller.

—Tomorrow.

—Okay.

They stayed like that for a while, in silence. Caleb felt the small weight of his sister against him, her soft breathing, the warmth of her body. Mc listened to the beats of Caleb's heart, that sound that had accompanied her for as long as she could remember, since before she understood what a heart was.

—Caleb —she said suddenly, lifting her head to look at him.

—Tell me, little princess.

She looked at him. She looked at his violet eyes, so serious but so soft when they looked at her. She looked at his freckles, the same ones she sometimes counted with her finger, inventing numbers. She looked at his lips, which smiled that small way that only she knew.

And then, without warning, without planning it, without fully understanding what she was doing, Mc leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn't a long kiss. It was a childish kiss, innocent, a quick brush of lips against lips, like the ones she gave him on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. But this time the place was different. This time it was on the mouth.

Caleb froze completely.

His seven-year-old brain processed the information at the speed of a lazy dinosaur. What had just happened? Had Mc kissed him on the lips? Was that okay? Was that wrong? What was he supposed to feel?

Mc pulled back and looked at him with her huge black-green eyes, searching for his reaction. She didn't seem to understand she had done anything different. For her, it was just another kiss. Another kiss for Caleb. Because Caleb was hers and she kissed him wherever she wanted.

—Caleb —she said, seeing that he wasn't reacting—. Did you like it?

Caleb opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it. He opened it again.

—I... —he started, and stopped.

Mc frowned, worried. —You didn't like it?

—No, I did —Caleb said quickly—. I did like it. It's just that... —he searched for the words—. It was different.

—Different bad or different good?

Caleb looked at her. He saw her little face full of worry, her little eyes waiting for an answer that would comfort her. He saw his little princess, the one he had cared for since she was a baby, the one he loved more than anything in the world.

—Different good —he said, and it was true—. Really good.

Mc smiled, relieved. —Good. Because I wanted to kiss you there.

—Why there?

—Because —she said, shrugging—. Because you're my Caleb.

And that, for Mc, explained everything.

Caleb felt his heart swell until it almost hurt. He hugged his sister tighter, burying his face in her hair that smelled like baby, like chamomile, like her.

—You're so weird, little princess —he murmured.

—Weird pretty —she corrected.

—Weird pretty —he confirmed.

They stayed like that a while longer, hugged on the sofa, while the afternoon went on its way. Caleb didn't go back to his book. He didn't need to read about dinosaurs when he had his favorite dinosaur on his lap.

Josephine appeared at the kitchen door with two plates of snacks. She was going to call them, but stopped when she saw the scene. Caleb hugging Mc, Mc curled up against him, both in perfect silence.

She smiled and went back to the kitchen. The snack could wait.

That night, when Caleb went to tuck Mc in, she was already in her bed, with Copito in one arm and her eyes wide open looking at the ceiling.

—Caleb —she said as soon as she saw him come in.

—Tell me, little princess.

—Can I give you another kiss?

Caleb stopped. He felt a strange tingle in his stomach.

—On the lips?

—Yes.

—Why?

—Because I want to.

Caleb hesitated. He didn't know if it was right or wrong. He didn't know if he should allow it or not. He only knew that it was Mc, his little princess, and that she looked at him with those eyes that always won any battle with him.

—Okay —he said, and leaned in.

Mc lifted her head from the pillow and gave him another kiss on the lips. Just like the one in the afternoon: quick, soft, innocent. A brush of lips that for her meant "I love you" the same way kisses on the cheek did.

—There —she said, smiling—. Good night.

Caleb smiled too, a small and tender smile.

—Good night, little princess.

He gave her his usual kiss on her forehead, then another on her tummy, and tucked her in with the star blanket.

—Caleb —she called when he reached the door.

—Hmm?

—Tomorrow can I give you another one?

Caleb looked at her from the doorway, in his dinosaur pajamas and his serious expression that always melted with her.

—As many as you want, little princess.

Mc smiled, closed her eyes, and fell asleep with that smile on her lips.

Caleb turned off the light and went to his bed. He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened. About the kisses. About the lips. About what they meant.

He didn't find answers. But he found one certainty: he loved Mc. He loved her with all his seven-year-old heart. And those kisses, wherever they were, were part of that love.

He fell asleep with a smile.

The next day, during breakfast, Mc announced with complete naturalness:

—Jojo, yesterday I kissed Caleb on the lips.

Josephine, who was pouring milk, almost dropped the jug.

—A kiss on the lips? —she repeated, careful not to sound alarmed.

—Yes —said Mc, biting a honey bear cookie—. And today I'm going to give him another one.

Caleb, who was extremely focused on his cereal, felt his ears burn.

Josephine looked at them both. She saw Mc, so innocent, so pure, so unaware of any connotation other than "I love my brother." She saw Caleb, red as a tomato, hiding his face in his bowl.

—Well —she said, choosing her words carefully—. Kisses on the lips are special. They're for people we love very much.

—I love Caleb very much —said Mc—. More than anything.

—I know, my love. And it's okay to give him kisses. But remember there are kisses on cheeks, on the forehead, on the nose... and kisses on the lips. They're all nice.

Mc nodded, as if she had received valuable information. Then she looked at Caleb.

—Caleb, do you want me to give you kisses on the lips?

Caleb looked up. He saw his sister, her serious little face waiting for an answer. He saw Josephine, who gave him a look that said "you decide, I trust you."

—Yes —he said—. But only you. No one else.

—Of course —said Mc—. Only you. Because you're my Caleb.

And she continued eating breakfast, happy, as if she had solved a complex problem.

Josephine smiled to herself and continued with her coffee. She knew this was part of growing up, part of learning boundaries, part of the love between siblings. And she trusted Caleb. She trusted that he would know how to handle this with the same tenderness with which he handled everything about Mc.

The days passed. The kisses on the lips became part of Mc's repertoire, but they were never many. They were special, as Josephine had said. They happened at specific moments: when Mc was very happy, when Caleb came back from school, when they said goodnight.

Always quick. Always innocent. Always full of that pure love that only little children know how to give.

Caleb learned to receive them naturally. Sometimes he even waited for them, though he would never admit it. When Mc approached with that special look, he knew a lip kiss was coming, and he would lean slightly to make it easier.

—I love you, Caleb —she would say afterwards.

—I love you too, little princess.

And that was it.

One night, before sleeping, Mc gave him her goodnight kiss. It was on the lips, as she sometimes did. But this time, after the kiss, she stayed looking at him with a new expression.

—Caleb —she said.

—Hmm?

—When I grow up, will I still be able to give you kisses?

Caleb thought about it. He thought about the future, about them growing up, about everything that would change. But he also thought about what he had always known: that Mc would always be his little princess, no matter the age.

—Always —he said—. You'll always be able to.

—Even when I'm old?

—Even when you're old.

—Even when I have wrinkles?

—Wrinkles deserve kisses too.

Mc smiled, satisfied, and closed her eyes.

—Good night, Caleb.

—Good night, little princess.

Caleb stayed looking at her for a while. His sister. His little princess. The girl who had given him his first kiss on the lips without knowing what it meant, but meaning everything.

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Then another on her tummy. Then, very softly, barely touching her, another on her lips.

—I love you —he whispered.

And he went to sleep.

In the kitchen, Josephine was finishing tidying up. She had heard the conversation from the hallway, unintentionally, and was smiling as she put away the dishes.

Her family. Her complete pack. With their special kisses and their infinite love.

She wouldn't change a thing.

— — — — — — — ୨୧ — — — — — — —

I'm back and with my little ones again!

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: four years old.

Caleb: Seven years old.

The Names My Heart Invents. (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

It all started at school.

MC was sitting on the carpet, legs crossed, listening to the teacher talk about something *very important*.

— The people we love — the teacher was saying — sometimes we give them sweet nicknames, pretty words that say “I love you” without actually saying it.

MC’s eyes widened.

— Like what? — a girl asked.

— Sweetheart, love, darling, honey… — the teacher listed — They’re ways of showing affection.

MC spent **the whole day** thinking about it.

There was only one name in her head.

Caleb.

When Josephine came to pick her up, MC was quiet, strangely quiet.

— Everything okay, love? — Josephine asked.

MC nodded… but she was still thinking.

Sweet nicknames.

People you love.

She loved Caleb.

A lot.

When they got home, Caleb was in the living room, lying on the floor building something with blocks.

— MC! — he greeted — Look what I made.

MC set her backpack down and walked toward him slowly, very slowly.

Caleb looked up.

— What’s wrong?

MC stood in front of him, clasped her little hands together, took a deep breath.

— Caleb…

— Yeah?

MC hesitated.

Her little face turned red.

— At school… — she started — They said something.

Caleb put the blocks down.

— What thing?

MC looked straight at him, very serious, like she was about to do something *huge*.

— That the people you love… you can call them pretty names.

Caleb blinked.

— Oh… yeah?

MC nodded quickly.

— Yeah.

Silence.

MC squeezed her plushie.

— And I… — she swallowed — I love you a lot.

Caleb felt something tighten in his chest.

— I love you too — he answered softly.

MC gathered her courage.

— So… — she said — I’m going to give you one.

Caleb smiled.

— A name?

— A sweet nickname — she corrected proudly.

She cleared her throat.

— Caleb…

— Yeah?

— My Caleb.

He froze completely.

— Your… what?

MC smiled, happy.

— My Caleb — she repeated — Because you’re mine and I’m yours.

From the kitchen, Josephine covered her mouth with her hand.

Caleb felt his face grow warm.

— MC…

— You don’t like it? — she asked immediately, worried.

— No — he said quickly — I mean yes, I do. I like it. A lot.

MC sighed in relief.

— Good.

But she wasn’t done.

— I thought of more — she added.

Caleb swallowed.

— More?

MC started counting on her fingers.

— Pretty Caleb.

— Good Caleb.

— My big boy.

— My heart.

Caleb opened his mouth… and then closed it again.

— MC… — he said, half laughing — That’s a lot.

MC frowned.

— But I love you a lot.

— I can see that…

She stepped closer.

— Can I call you one now?

— Yeah…

MC wrapped her arms around his neck.

— Come here, my pretty Caleb.

Caleb went stiff for a second… then wrapped his arms around her.

— You’re dangerous — he murmured.

— What does dangerous mean?

— Nothing — he said — Come here.

Josephine walked closer.

— MC — she asked with a smile — And why do you call Caleb that?

MC looked up at her, confident.

— Because I love him more than anyone.

Caleb rested his chin on top of her head.

— And me? — Josephine asked jokingly.

MC thought.

— You too — she said — But Caleb is my Caleb.

Caleb closed his eyes.

Later, while they were playing, MC kept using the nicknames nonstop.

— My Caleb, pass me that.

— My heart, look.

— Pretty Caleb, don’t go.

Caleb tried to act normal… but every time she called him that, something tickled inside his chest.

— MC — he told her quietly — You know I can give you nicknames too, right?

MC’s eyes widened.

— Really?

— Yeah.

— Which ones?

Caleb smiled.

— My little one.

— My MC.

— My favorite person.

MC let out a small squeal and threw herself into his arms.

— I like that!

— Then we’re even — he said.

That night, before going to sleep, MC called him one more time.

— Good night, my Caleb.

Caleb leaned down and kissed her forehead.

— Good night, my love.

MC closed her eyes with a smile.

She didn’t know exactly what all those words meant…

but she knew something very clearly:

that loving Caleb

was as natural

as calling him by his name…

or by all the pretty names

her heart could invent.

-------

I'm sorry, I'm obsessed thinking about them being sweet with each other when they are little.

[cherrymikoo]

Mc: Three years old.

Caleb: six years old.

Their shared language. (✿˶•ᵕ•)♡(• ᵕ •˶)

Caleb is already halfway to the store when, back at home, MC starts pacing in little circles on the carpet.

—I forgot somethin’… —she mumbles, squeezing her stuffed toy.

Josephine watches her for a second and understands right away.

—Did you want to ask Caleb for something?

MC nods quickly.

—Yeah… but I dunno how say it… an’ Cabeh already gone.

Josephine smiles and crouches down to her level.

—Do you want to send him a voice message? That way he can hear you even while he’s walking.

MC’s little eyes light up.

—A voice?

—Yes. You talk, he listens.

That sounds like magic to her.

Josephine carefully hands her the phone, and MC holds it with both hands like it’s something very important. She presses the red button and speaks slowly, super focused.

—Cabeh… —she says— I wan’ a thing… it round… an’ it crunches… an’ it goes shhh shhh when you squeeze it… bring it, okay?

Mc sends the message and lets out a relieved sigh, like she’s just finished a very important mission.

—

Caleb, almost at the store, feels his phone buzz. He stops dead on the sidewalk when he sees the voice message.

He plays it.

And his chest melts.

He listens once.

Then again.

Then a third time, smiling to himself like an idiot.

—Round… crunchy… shhh shhh… —he murmurs—. I know.

When he gets back home, MC is sitting on the floor, staring at the door with impatient patience.

—Cabeh!

Caleb pulls a big lollipop out of the bag, wrapped in colorful paper that goes shhh shhh when he moves it.

—This one?

MC goes quiet for a second… then smiles so big she almost tips over.

—YES!!

Mc hugs his leg tightly.

—You listened —she says, very sure of herself.

Caleb kneels down and fixes her hair gently.

—Always.

MC can’t read or write yet…

but she already knows something much more important:

when she talks to Caleb, he always understands. 🤍

[cherrymikoo]

Shared silence. (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

they are not talking. Each one in their own way.

MC reads. Caleb reviews data on his device.

Out of nowhere, he reaches out and intertwines his fingers with hers, without looking at her.

They continue like this.

Speechless.

No distractions.

As if the world could wait as long as they exist together at that moment.

[cherrymikoo]

Caleb's cosplayer has me literally at his feet, I love how he brought Caleb !!! he's literally got his puppy eyes, I'm dead in love. (｡ >\\<)

[sinkuna]

Caleb is clueless to how big his dick is ♡

୨୧ ― Caleb has spent his entire adolescence and young adulthood rejecting every admirer who threw themselves at him- returning their homemade lunches, turning down their confessions, never once letting anyone get close enough to touch him like that.

He was too focused. Too loyal. Too busy dreaming about the girl who'd grown up beside him, the one whose birthday made up half of his passwords.

His girl.

And now, finally, after all this time, he has you exactly where he's dreamed of you for almost a decade- beneath him, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes.

God, she's really here. She's really letting me-

His internal thought cuts off when he hears your sweet voice.

"C-Caleb-," you whine pitifully, fat tears beginning to bead along your lower lashes as you squirm beneath him in his apartment you've slowly been turning into a home... "I- I don't think-"

"What's wrong?" He sounds almost boyish in his confusion, purple eyes soft with concern as he brushes sweaty hair from your forehead, "Did I do something-"

"S'too big."

He blinks, tilting his head like the adorable idiot he is, "I'm... no, I'm sure I'm average? I mean, I haven't really compared, but…" his words trail off…

Caleb can do nothing but stare...

How your poor little cunt is struggling, quivering, lips stretched obscenely trying to swallow the first few inches of him...

His length is ridiculous- he realizes that now with sudden, dawning clarity, watching nearly half of his shaft still jutting out from where your bodies meet.

Despite how wet he's gotten you with his fingers and tongue and desperate grinding- despite the slick mess coating your inner thighs, the way you'd gushed around two of his knuckles, the way you'd soaked his chin when he'd eaten you out… you're still barely able to take him.

He'd always assumed those whispered comments from classmates back in high school were idle gossip. Locker room flattery he was too humble to believe -even now during showers on the fleet-. Girls giggling behind cupped hands, guys clapping his shoulder with that knowing look...

But now-

Fuck.

Now he understands as he watches you try to adjust.

Watching how your belly flutters with each shallow breath, watching your thighs tremble where they're spread wide around his hips. Watching the visible bulge of himself pressing up against the soft give of your lower stomach when he sinks another inch deeper and you let out this broken little whimper that makes his balls tighten.

He's ruining you. Reshaping you. Your tight little hole wasn't built for this, wasn't made for a cock this fat, this long, this mean- and he can't decide if the thought makes him want to pull out and apologize or grab your hips and bury himself to the hilt just to watch you fall apart.

"Shh, shh, hey." His voice has dropped low, rougher than you've ever heard it, and there's something dark flickering in those usually playful eyes. That possessive edge he's hidden for years, now surfacing as he stares down at where his thick cockhead is trying desperately to sink into your fluttering hole, "I've waited so long for this, Pips... For you. We're going to make it fit, okay? I'll take care of you, just like i always have."

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. So gentle. So caring. So him.

And then his other hand pins your hip to the mattress as he snaps forward, burying every fat inch inside you in one brutal thrust.

"AHHH- CALEB!!" Your scream tears through his quiet apartment, back arching clean off the sheets as your cunt is forced to stretch around him, walls clenching and spasming helplessly against the intrusion.

It's too much -he's too much-, splitting you open on a cock that has no business being attached to a man who watches you like that. All soft, starving devotion. A loyal pup at the feet of its goddess, even while he wrecks you.

"Pips- oh, fuck, there we go," Caleb groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, those pretty eyes rolling back slightly as he bottoms out. His pelvis grinds against yours, the root of him stuffed so deep you can feel him in your goddamn stomach. "You're so tight- shit, is it always like this? Is this-"

"Y-you're my f-first too, you idiot," you sob, and something breaks in his expression.

First. I'm her first. She waited for me too.

"Oh, Pipsqueak," he breathes, and now both hands are cradling your face while his hips stay perfectly still to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside you, and you keen. "My sweet girl. I didn't know. I didn't-" He drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, "I thought- I would've been gentler, I would've-"

"N'just-" You gulp for air, body quaking, "just stay still. M'need to -hah- adjust"

He nods, pressing apologetic kisses all over your tear stained face while his massive length pulses inside your stretched out cunt. But even as he soothes you, that darker part of his mind is calculating.

If I keep her on my cock long enough... if I fuck her through it over and over... her body will learn. She'll mold to me. Only me. She won't be able to take anyone else after this...

Good.

And when your walls finally relax enough for him to move, rolling his hips in a slow, devastating grind that makes your eyes roll back... Caleb learns something else about himself that night...

He was never going to be satisfied with gentle.

˚₊‧꒰ა. 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚