you and caleb were deep in the heat of the moment on his bed, bodies moving together in a passionate rhythm, his thick cock slid in and out of your slick, unprotected pussy with long strokes, filling you completely.
you’d convinced him to skip the condom tonight, whispering how desperately you needed to feel him raw, all while secretly planning to baby-trap him hoping his cum would take root and bind him to you forever.
he groaned deeply, hips rolling as he thrust harder, his heavy balls pressing against you with every plunge, the pleasure was building fast, your walls fluttering around his pulsing length.
then you made your move, you slid your legs up and wrapped them firmly around his waist, ankles locking tight behind his back.
the shift pulled him even deeper, angling his cock so the swollen head nudged right against your cervix. your pussy squeezed him rhythmically, holding him in place.
caleb’s rhythm faltered. his breath hitched sharply. “f-fuck..” he whispered, voice strained and desperate, forehead dropping to yours.
you felt his cock throb intensely inside you, swelling as he teetered right on the edge. for a heartbeat, his hips tensed like he might try to pull back.
but it felt too incredible. the tight, wet heat of your pussy gripping him, your legs trapping him deep. he couldn’t stop.
with a low, ragged moan, he kept going, driving into you with urgent, grinding thrusts, your locked ankles kept him buried to the hilt, refusing to let him withdraw even an inch. “god… it’s too good,” he panted, sweat-slicked skin sliding against yours as he fucked you harder, chasing the overwhelming sensation.
you moaned softly, rolling your hips to meet him, nails lightly dragging down his back. “don’t stop, caleb…”
his pace grew more desperate, thrusts deep and the wet, intimate sounds of your bodies filled the room.
finally, he shattered. with a deep groan, caleb buried himself as far as your locked legs allowed and came hard. thick spurts of cum flooded your pussy, pulsing against your cervix as he emptied himself completely inside you. wave after wave of his warm seed filled your womb, exactly as you’d planned.
your own climax crashed over you, pussy clenching tightly around him, milking every drop. even afterward, you kept your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him deep while his cock twitched with the final aftershocks, his release safely trapped inside your unprotected body.
“fuck… i couldn’t pull out,” he breathed shakily, still buried in you, lost in the pleasure.
you smiled softly against his skin, satisfied that the first step of your baby trap had worked perfectly.
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, you’re forced to watch your future selves fuck like they’ve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Caleb—"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photos—" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm —this is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to see—"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to —"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see us—"
"Then they see us—"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Caleb—"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”
“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.
“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
“What the…” future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”
You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
“We should probably go”
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
“I’m gonna go shower.” Rafayel nodded in acknowledgment. He seemed to be focused on his painting.
You turned on the faucet and began undressing, when you hear the door open. Rafayel enters and leans against the sink, innocently looking at you.
“Raf why are you here?”
“I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“No you aren’t you perv.”
“What if you drown!? I can save you.”
“I won’t in the shower!”
ᢉ𐭩 ᩚ Caleb
You and Caleb were cuddling in bed. He had fallen asleep. You slowly got out of bed and quietly walked to the bathroom. Caleb immediately sensed your absence and woke up, following you.
You blocked the bathroom door with your body. “Caleb go back to sleep I’m just going to shower.”
“But we always shower together.” He looked at you with his signature sad puppy eyes. “You like me helping you.”
“You’ve been working so much. I rather you get some sleep. I’m a grown adult I’m perfectly capable of showering on my own.” You close the bathroom door on him but, he forces it open with his evol. Then you feel the familiar sensation of his evol wrap around you. You couldn’t move your body.
“What happened pips? Why aren’t you moving anymore? I guess you do need my help.”
ᢉ𐭩 ᩚ Valko
Valko had come over to your apartment to work. He likes it there since everything smelled like you. It made him feel safe and comfortable. You set down a plate of brownies beside him as he continued to type away on his laptop.
“I’ll be right back I’m gonna take a shower.” He replies with an okay and a smile showing off his fangs.
You had just started showering when you notice a large shadow behind the curtain. You peek your head out to see Valko looking at you.
“Val what are you doing?”
“I’m keeping guard.” He gave you a neutral expression but his tail was wagging.
“Then shouldn’t you be facing the door and not me.”
“My senses are really good. I’ll be able to notice them from behind me.”
You sigh and playfully role your eyes. “You can join me if you want.” Somehow his tail wagged even faster.
caleb just sees you as a sister figure. (he does not)
rating: nsfw/explicit 18+
category: f/m, caleb x reader
tags: childhood friends to lovers, sibling dynamic, reader is the adopted, shared home, multiple scenes, sexual tension, playfights, pseudocest, "big bro" and "sis" are tossed around as teasing, not blood-related, varsity!caleb, annoying!caleb, goofy!caleb, mean!reader, "we aren't siblings though", making each other jealous, size difference, playful manhandling, wrestling, tap out game, "this doesn't count as crossing the line, right?" grinding, dryhumping, slight oral (m!receiving), fingering, caleb is so guilty, p in v, f'ed against a door.
summary: growing up together, the both of you have always used the "sibling" label as a shield against the confusing feelings lingering between you.
PREVIEW : “do you want me to stop playing the sibling part then? do you want me to become something else?” caleb tilted his head, his voice dropping into a soft whisper. “what do you mean... something else?” you ask, and a faint little smile touched the corner of caleb’s lips. “you know, like... a guy. a guy to you.”
wc: 19k
the heat of the mid-noon always makes the wrapper stick to the cheap ice candy you’ve both bought from the corner store since you were kids. it’s a stupidly precise ritual—caleb rips the top off with his teeth, unfazed by the plastic cutting into his lip, and hands the half-melted orange block over to you before taking his own.
the walk back from granny’s nursing home is long enough for the initial heaviness of seeing her frail state to wear off, and it left just the familiar hum of the pavement and caleb’s shoulder occasionally brushing against yours.
“you're still wearing my grey hoodie,” caleb says, dropping his head back to blink up at the sun through the trees. “i almost got late to my class just looking for it.”
“wachu mean? it's mine now,” you take a bite of the ice candy, ignoring the brain freeze. “you left it on my bed months ago. soooo statute of limitations has passed.”
he snorts, shoving his free hand into his pocket. his stride is longer now, with a frame broader than it used to be when you first moved into the house, but the irritating tilt of his head is exactly the same. “that's not how the law works, kiddo. and for the record, it fits you like a fucking tent. it looks ridiculous.”
“it's comfortable.”
“it smells like you now, anyway. probably covered in whatever vanilla lotion you're obsessed with.” caleb stops mid-stride, turning his head to look down at you as a teasing smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “actually, did you shrink it? or did you just borrow it because you ran out of laundry day options again? also, right, i swear to god, if you're wearing my boxers as shorts around the house again, i’m putting a padlock on my dresser.”
you roll your eyes, but your heart does a small trip behind your ribs. “...it was one time. and they were clean! besides, they have a better drawstring than mine.”
“they're men's underwear, you absolute menace,” he laughs, an easy sound that vibrates in the space between you. “what is your future husband even going to say when he finds out you steal your brother's underwear?”
“you aren't my brother.” you make a popping sound on your ice candy.
“hmm, alright, baby sis.”
“and i'll tell my future hubby he has to share his clothes too, if he's half as dramatic as you, i'll just divorce him.”
“nah.” caleb leans in while still walking, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “whoever you marry is going to have to deal with me first. i’m going to be the worst brother-in-law in human history. i’ll show up at your house at two in the morning just to tell him all the embarrassing stories from when you were nine.”
“you wouldn't dare.”
“try me,” he suddenly reaches out and plants his thumb right against the corner of your lip, wiping away a stray drop of melting orange ice. his skin is warm, rougher than it used to be, and his thumb lingers for just a beat too long against your skin before he pulls it back. “you've got sticky stuff on your face, as usual.”
you blink, your throat suddenly feeling dry despite the ice candy. you look away first, focusing hard on the cracked pavement ahead.
as you arrive back at home, the heavy front door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the heat and replacing it with the slightly hollow coolness of the house. without granny there, the air feels different—thicker, somehow, and much too big for just the two of you.
caleb dumps his keys on the entryway bowl with a loud clatter, already peeling off his sneakers with his feet without unlacing them. “god, i'm starving,” he walks straight toward the kitchen island, pulling a cutting board from the rack. “i'm making those wraps from the leftover chicken. you want one?”
”yeah,” you mutter, slumping against the kitchen counter, watching his broad back as he reaches into the fridge. he moves with the effortless familiarity of someone who owns every square inch of the space. he’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms shifting as he grabs a knife and starts chopping lettuce like a husband material.
“hey, you watered the ferns by the window sill today, right? gran said they need a misting every morning or the leaves start turning yellow.” he says casually, not breaking his pace with the knife.
silence...
your eyes darted toward the living room window where the row of clay pots sits under the harsh sunlight. the soil looks bone-dry. fuck, you completely forgot! again!
caleb pauses his chopping, “so you didn't.”
“i-i was going to!” you blurt out, immediately spinning on your heel to head toward the sink to grab the watering can. “i'm doing it right now, see? i just got distracted by the—”
“uh-uh. too late.”
before your fingers can even touch the plastic handle of the watering can, a pair of heavy arms wraps around your waist from behind. caleb instantly lifts you clean off your feet! with a grunt of easy effort, he pivots, hoisting you over his shoulder like a literal sack of rice. the sudden rush of gravity sends your head rushing with your stomach pressing into his shoulder.
“you—?! caleb! put me down, you idiot!”
“how many times do i have to tell you, pips? gran is literally going to haunt us from the nursing home if her pothos dies,” he grumbles, totally unfazed by your squirming as he marches into the living room. “this is the hundredth time this week. you have such a short-term memory.”
“i just forgot, okay?! let go!”
“nope. punishment.”
he dumps you unceremoniously onto the plush cushions of the couch. and before you can even scramble to sit up and escape, caleb instantly drops his weight over you, pinning your thighs down with his knees and digging his fingers straight into your ribs.
“caleb—no! stop! fuck, caleb, i'm sorry!” you shriek, throwing your head back into the pillows while your entire body convulses into a breathless laughter. you twist and writhe beneath him, but he’s too heavy, his hands finding every single ticklish spot along your waist.
“say you're sorry to the plants,”
“i'm sorry! i'm sorry to them! i'll water them with my tears, just stop!” you gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. you try to push his chest, your hands sliding against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. but shit isn't he huge.
caleb just laughs, a breathlessly rough sound, and catches your wrists, pinning them over your head into the cushions. he traps you just to lean down so close you can smell the faint scent of the ice candy on his breath. it turns into a messy grunting wrestling match, your legs flailing against his hips as you try to dislodge him.
“aw, you're so weak,” he taunts, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “how are you gonna—”
but out of pure survival instinct, you wrench one leg free and drive your knee straight upward, landing a blunt kick into his stomach.
hiya!
“umf—!” a sharp intake of air cuts his laugh off, and his face contorts in genuine pain for a second, his grip tightening instinctively.
“oh my god, are you okay—?”
“you little brat,” out of sheer retaliation and to neutralize your defense, caleb reaches down and grabs your ankle in a vicelike grip. with a heavy shove of his forearm, he pushes your leg wide across the back cushion, effectively pinning your knees completely apart to lock you down.
what the fuck, wait.
the position is suddenly so intimate.
you are open beneath him, legs spread wide and hips locked under his, and the sheer weight of his frame is utterly undeniable. it's annoying how your heart thumps violently against your ribs now—no, not from laughter, but it's from a dizzying wave of ...heat.
but caleb is just blinking down at you, his chest still heaving from the exertion. his hand is still wrapped tightly around your ankle, fingers burning hot against your bare skin. he’s looking at your face with a slightly annoyed puff of air escaping his lips while he nurses his stomach with his other hand.
“you seriously fucking kick like a mule,” he mutters, ignoring—or totally oblivious to—the fact that he is holding you in a position that feels too inappropriate for two people who share a last name on an adoption certificate. but he doesn't let go. he just hovers there. “should i leave you like this till lunch is done?”
you force your voice not to tremble, swallowing down the dry lump of panic in your throat. “get the fuck off me, caleb. seriously. you’re being weird.”
caleb raises a brow, his head tilting to the side as he stares down at you. “weird? what's weird about this? the only thing weird here is that you just broke my ribs with your knee and you haven't even apologized.” he lets out a scolding click of his tongue, his hand tightening around your ankle just enough to remind you that you aren't going anywhere. “matter of fact, you need a punishment for that. you gotta learn your place, you little girl.”
“caleb, don't—”
before you can even finish the sentence, caleb leans down. without a hint of hesitation, he sinks his teeth straight into the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts.
your breath hitches sharply, the sudden sting of his teeth sending a jolt straight down your spine. and he bites down even harder! the pressure of his jaw leaving a deep, burning ache against your skin.
“okay! okay, fuck i'm sorry!” you whimper, hands clawing futilely at the couch cushions. “i'm sorry, caleb,”
he finally releases your skin, but the playful retort you're expecting doesn't come.
he's strangely quiet.
and for a second, it feels like there is something complicated inside his head. his eyes are unreadable as they track the red imprint of his teeth on your leg.
“caleb...?”
he leans in even closer, his shadow completely engulfing you. your eyes widen as he buries his face right into the crook of your neck while his nose brush against your collarbone.
what the hell is he doing? what is he pulling right now?
how can he be so comfortable doing this? how can he just occupy your space so ruthlessly while you're paralyzed like this beneath him?
you feel the warm puff of his breath against your bare skin as he takes an inhale. his nose slides lower, brushing past your jaw, trailing a path of goosebumps down to the heat of your chest before he takes another long sniff. you can feel the exact weight of his chest pressing into yours, the hard line of his thighs pinning you open.
but the sudden groan coming from him wakes you up.
“knew it. you used my body wash again,” he finally pulls back, sitting up on his knees but still hovering over you. there's that familiar scowl returning to his face. “i knew i wasn't crazy. ugh you're really annoying, pipsss.”
ah. oh. alright.
that was it.
the suffocating knot in your chest uncoils, a wave of dizzying relief—and a bitter sting of disappointment—washing over you. it was just because of a body wash. not because he was looking at you differently. not because he felt the same pull that you did. it was just caleb being caleb.
“it smells better than mine,” you manage to choke out, forcing your voice back into its usual defensive cadence even as your heart refuses to slow down.
“buy your own.” he finally lets go of your ankle and pulls his weight off you.
that was your life with caleb.
the house, once bursting at the seams with granny’s presence and the sweet smell of her liniment, suddenly feels too big for just the two of you. it's a stage built for a larger cast, yet only you and caleb remain to play house in the quiet.
every saturday morning is the same. you both pack her favorite soft biscuits into a tin container, ride the bumpy bus down to the bright walls of the nursing home, and sit by her bed. and then caleb would play the part of the dutiful grandson—smiling wide, kissing her paper-thin cheek, laughing at jokes she’s told a hundred times before. but then sunday night rolls around, and the silence settles back into the floorboards like dust.
then come the weekdays when college classes split your schedules into mismatched pieces. there are quiet mornings where you wake up to the smell of burnt toast and find a messy note scribbled on a napkin: leftover rice is mine, touch it and die. there are rainy afternoons where you sit alone in the living room, listening to the water hit the glass and wondering if his lecture ran late or if he’s simply loitering somewhere else.
then, your life with caleb became a collection of tiny petty wars fought in the shadows of granny’s absence. you steal his oversized socks because yours are all lost in the dryer. he retaliation-hides your favorite hair clips in the freezer. you scream at him for leaving his damp towel on the bathroom floor; he barks back at you for leaving the milk carton empty inside the fridge. it's the noisy camouflage you both wear so nobody looks too closely at the spaces where your skins accidentally linger, or the way his eyes track your movements when he thinks you aren't paying attention.
until the afternoon it breaks.
it happens on a tuesday, right in the crowded heat of the university's cafeteria hall. you're sitting across a guy from your major block, sharing a plate of fries and talking about a group project. it's entirely innocent, entirely mundane... but then a shadow falls over the plastic table, and you look up to find caleb standing there.
sliding into the seat right next to you, uninvited, he slung a heavy arm over the back of your chair and grinned a bright smile at your terrified classmate.
“so, who's the friend, (name)?” caleb had asked, and for the rest of the day, and all through the walk home, he had relentlessly poked at you.
is he your boyfriend?
does he know you still wet your bed?
should i invite him over for tea so i can interrogate him?
he laughed and nudged your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief, but beneath the playful banter, there was... something else?
which brings you to friday night.
the old grandfather clock in the living room ticks with a rhythmic thud that echoes through the empty house.
11:03 pm.
you're curled up on the edge of the sofa, the screen of your phone casting a blue glow across your face. you’ve already sent seven texts to him. you’ve called three times, each one going straight to voicemail, the robotic operator telling you what you already know: he isn't answering.
where the hell is he?
caleb never stays out this late without a word? he's the dependable one, the good boy who always sends a quick text to let you know if he's grabbing drinks with his friends or staying late at the library. but tonight, there is nothing. just the empty house and the sickeningly dark windows staring back at you. your chest feels tight, a heavy knot of anxiety twisting in your gut. is he with someone? did he finally decide to try his luck with one of the girls who always leave comments on his photos?
screech!
you almost jumped out of your skin when the front gates sounded with a sudden noise, which means... caleb is finally home.
seconds later, the main door unlocks with a clumsy, fumbling click. and when it swings open, caleb is standing in the threshold, the cool night air rolling in behind him. he looks like a complete mess with his varsity jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, uniform shirt half-untucked, wrinkling out from beneath a dark hoodie.
you don’t even give him a chance to step fully inside before you cross the living room, your bare feet slapping angrily against the cold floorboards. “where the hell have you been? why didn't you text me back? i called you several times!”
caleb doesn't shoot back with his usual retort. instead, he just stands there, blinking down at you through slightly unfocused eyes. a slow, crooked smile creeps onto his face, looking incredibly stupid and entirely too relaxed. as he steps closer, the sweet-and-sour sting of alcohol hits your nose.
so he’s drunk.
“hey,” he mumbles, his voice thick and dropping an octave lower than usual. “you're still awake.”
“obviously i'm still awake! i was worried sick, you absolute—”
you couldn't even finish yourself before he suddenly tilts forward, his entire upper body collapsing right against your shoulder. your breath instantly gets knocked out of you as your arms instinctively fly up to catch him, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his hoodie. damn, he is heavy. the broad weight of his chest presses completely into yours, burying his face right into the crook of your neck as he lets out a long, hot sigh against your skin.
“did you drink? caleb, are you fucking serious?” you strain against his weight, your heart doing a panicked dance behind your ribs. “get off me! where did you even go?”
“just... a house party, some guys invited me. didn't check my phone.” he muttered into your shoulder.
a sharp spike of jealousy and irritation then flares up in your gut. the thought of him surrounded by crowded rooms, flashing lights, and girls trying to get his attention makes you lose your temper. with a frustrated grunt, you plant both hands against his chest and shove him away with all the strength you have left, throwing him straight backward onto the couch cushions.
caleb hits the plush sofa with a heavy thud, his limbs sprawling out awkwardly. “fuck—!” he winces, a sharp groan slipping past his lips as he rubs his shoulder, glaring up at you through his messy hair. “what the hell? that actually hurt.”
“good! you deserve it!” you snap, crossing your arms tightly over your chest to stop your hands from shaking. “just because you’re in college and granny isn't here to monitor you doesn't mean you can just run around doing whatever you want! going to parties, drinking until you can barely walk... did you kiss someone? did you do something stupid? are you trying to get yourself kicked out?”
caleb just stares up at you from the cushions, his irritated expression suddenly melting away into an amused chortle. the sound rumbles deep in his throat, dark and dripping with that infuriatingly lazy charm.
“look at you,” he giggles, a breathlessly drunken sound as he throws his head back against the sofa. “you’re acting exactly like a mother. it’s hilarious.”
“i'm trying to look out for you, you idiot.”
“why do you even care so much?” caleb asks, his laughter suddenly cutting off. he rolls his head to the side, eyes locking onto yours. “it’s not like we're actually blood-related, pipsqueak. you don't have to keep tabs on me like i'm your real brother.”
the living room goes dead silent.
the grandfather clock ticks loudly in the background, but the sound feels miles away. you freeze in place, your tongue suddenly turning to lead, your eyes wide as you blink down at him. not blood-related. well, it’s the absolute truth, the reality you both dance around every single day, yet hearing him say it out loud feels like a line has been... crossed.
you swallow down the bitter taste of hurt and confusion, forcing your expression into a blank mask. “fine, do whatever you want. drink yourself to death for all i care.”
without waiting for a response, you spin on your heel and walk away. you march down the hallway, slip into your bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind you, clicking the lock into place before leaning your back against the wood.
back in the living room, caleb stays exactly where you left him, staring up at the shadow-drenched ceiling.
the stupid smile completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a bitter twist of his lips. “ahah...” he runs a frustrated hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair as he lets out a sharp exhale into the quiet house.
god, he hates it. he absolutely loathes the sibling label the two of you have used as a shield for the last ten years. he hates that the only way he can get you to look at him with that much intensity, the only way he can pull those reactions out of you, is by pretending to be the very thing he wishes he wasn't.
—
by the following week, the threads holding your carefully constructed reality together begin to fray and knot in ways you can't control.
the afternoon sun is heavy and suffocating when you finally push the front gate of your house open after a brutal three-hour lecture block. your feet ache and your shoulders are stiff from carrying a backpack loaded with textbooks, and on top of that, your stomach is letting out an aggressive growl. the only thing keeping you moving up the driveway was the thought of caleb’s cooking. for all his agonizing flaws, the boy knew how to handle a kitchen and you were ready to swallow your pride if it meant getting a plate of his garlic rice.
you twist the doorknob, stepping into the familiar coolness of the entryway. “caleb, i'm starving, did you leave any—”
the words die in your throat.
the living room, usually your shared sanctuary of quiet television static and stolen snacks, is suddenly alive with noise. the tv screen flashes with the chaotic colors of a multiplayer racing game with the volume cranked up high. and there, sitting cross-legged right on the carpet across the floor, are two people.
caleb is leaning forward, jaw tight with mock seriousness as his thumbs fly across the controller, and right next to him... is hyeran.
you know exactly who she is. she’s in the same year and department as caleb’s, one of those effortlessly pretty girls who always seem to be at the center of caleb’s university friend group, laughing a little too loudly at his jokes by the campus benches. right now, she’s screaming in frustration, her shoulder bumping solidly into caleb’s as her car spins out on the screen. in response, caleb throws his head back, letting out a boisterous laugh that you rarely hear him share with anyone outside these walls.
the sudden clatter of your keys hitting the entryway bowl cuts through the noise like a knife.
caleb and hyeran pauses mid-game, turning their heads simultaneously to look at you standing there in your wrinkled uniform.
shit. this is fucking awkward.
“oh! hey, pips!” caleb doesn't scramble up or look guilty; he just offers a lazy wave of his controller. “you're home early. lecture got cut short?”
“uh, yeah,” you force out, your throat feeling suddenly tight as you grip the straps of your backpack. you adjust your expression, plastering on a polite smile that feels completely hollow against your cheeks. “hi, hyeran.”
“hi, (name)! oh my gosh, sorry for the noise,” hyeran chimes in, offering a warm smile that makes your stomach do a bitter flip. she looks so perfectly at home sitting on your living room rug, her canvas bag spilled open near granny’s favorite armchair. “your big bro told me i could borrow his notes, and then trapped me into playing this stupid game.”
you blink.
he isn't my fucking big bro.
“don't lie, you wanted the rematch,” caleb jests, nudging her with his elbow.
“i'm just going to... grab a snack.” you mutter, desperately needing a barrier between yourself and the display on the floor.
you walk past them, your eyes locked firmly ahead as you retreat behind the kitchen island counter. the kitchen layout is an open-concept, completely overseeing the living room, meaning there is nowhere to hide. you can see everything. to keep your hands busy and stop them from shaking, you pull a bowl of apples and a small paring knife toward you.
you begin peeling the fruit, the sharp blade slicing through the red skin in one continuous ribbon.
“caleb mentioned you're still a freshman, right?” hyeran asks, twisting her torso around to lean against the edge of the sofa, looking up at you over the counter with curiosity. “how is it? 'cause when i was in your shoes, i can baaaarely handle the workload.”
“it's fine. just a lot of memorization,” you cut a slice of the apple, popping it into your mouth and chewing. “you just have to manage your time. which some people in this house clearly don't know how to do.”
“hey, i heard that. (name) loves to pretend she's the responsible one, hyeran. don't let the uniform fool you. she literally forgot to water granny's plants thrice last week.” caleb interjects, not looking back as he unpauses the game.
“it was only once, you liar.”
“whatever helps you sleep at night, sis.”
hyeran giggles, turning back to the screen as the countdown for the next round starts. “you two really argue like real siblings, it's so cute. my brothers just ignore me.”
siblings. there it is again. that stupid, suffocating word.
you stand behind the counter, a half-peeled apple in one hand and the paring knife in the other, then you look at caleb.
he’s doing this on purpose, is he? you know him too well not to see the edge beneath his playful demeanor. he’s showing you what life looks like when he plays by the rules you both set—the rules that say he is just a brother, and that he is perfectly free to bring other girls into the house you share.
caleb and hyeran continue to play the last few rounds of the game, their voices rising in cheerful bursts of laughter that fill the empty space where granny used to be. and you can only stand there, chewing on your tasteless fruit, staring at the back of caleb’s head with a sarcastic scowl.
this little bitch.
if this is the game, then you're going to be a better player.
if caleb wants to play a game of boundaries, you are going to show him exactly how it feels to have the board flipped. two can play the petty game of bringing people into a space where they don’t belong. if he can bring his shiny giggling friend into the living room, then you are going to give a certain someone else the time of day.
the very next morning, you seek out valko.
valko is the kind of blockmate who has spent the last semester treating your existence like a personal challenge. he’s loud, entirely too confident, and has spent months throwing flirty remarks your way—advances you’ve always shot down with a sharp roll of your eyes or a cold shoulder. so when you walk straight up to his desk before the morning lecture, leaning against the wood and offering a small smile, the confusion on his face was almost comical.
“you're... talking to me? no biting remarks? no telling me to get lost?” valko's eyebrows shot up as he stops shuffling through his tablet.
“maybe i'm just tired of being mean,” you say smoothly, tilting your head in a way you know looks casual, though your pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. “can't a blockmate just be friendly?”
valko isn’t a fool, but he’s certainly not going to complain about a sudden miracle. by the time the final bell rings at four in the afternoon, he’s already dangling his car keys between his fingers, blocking your path out of the lecture hall with a triumphant grin. “hey, since we're being friendly now, (name), let me give you a ride home. the clouds look heavy anyway. don't want you catching a cold.”
you hesitate for a fraction of a second, thinking of the dusty pavement and the walk you usually take, but then you picture caleb’s stupidly smug face from yesterday. “sure!” you say clearly, loud enough for a few surrounding classmates to hear. “thanks, valko.”
the walk to the student parking lot earns you exactly what you wanted: stares. a lot of them. whispers ripple through the department cliques as you slide into the passenger seat of valko’s surprisingly clean sedan. word travels fast on campus, and you know for a fact that caleb’s friends hang around the same smoking area right outside the parking exit.
the drive to your house is filled with the low hum of the air conditioner and valko’s easy chatter. but as the car finally pulls up along the familiar front gates of your house, the atmosphere inside the vehicle turns... awkward.
valko cuts the engine, his hands lingering on the steering wheel as he looks at the closed facade of the house. “so,” valko clears his throat, his eyes darting toward the front door. “your, uh... your big brother. caleb. is he home?”
you blink, “probably. why?”
valko lets out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “nnnothing, it's just... that guy is terrifyingly annoying. i saw that hunk staring at me in the cafeteria last week like he wanted to fuckin' dissect me. i don’t really fancy getting my head bitten off just because i drove his little sister home.”
you let out a breathless chuckle, the word sister grating against your nerves like sandpaper. you reach for the door handle, turning back to look at valko. “you don't have to worry about him, valko. and for the record... caleb and i aren't real siblings. we're not blood-related at all. his granny just took me in.”
valko’s eyebrows twitch upward, a sudden glint of renewed interest lighting up his eyes. “oh. seriously? huh. i didn't know that.”
“yep! well. thanks for the ride,” you say, pushing the car door open and stepping out into the humid afternoon air.
but valko doesn't just let you leave. he rolls down the passenger side window immediately, leaning over the console to keep the thread of the conversation tightly pulled. “hey, (name), wait—so if he's not your actual brother, does that mean i don't need his permission to take you out for real next time?”
valko cheekily smiles.
you idle right outside his side of the window, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag, keeping your expression light and teasing even as your eyes instinctively drift toward the glass of the living room window. “maybe, haha, you'll just have to ask nicely...”
“pipsqueak!”
the familiar shout cuts through the air. you immediately turn your head toward the source, only to see caleb jogging down the sidewalk toward the driveway with a bright smile splitting his face. before you can even process what he's up to, he closes the distance, throws his heavy arms around your waist, and lifts you clean off the asphalt.
he spins you around in a breathlessly joyful circle, his laughter vibrating hard against your chest.
“caleb! what's up? put me down!” you frown in utter confusion, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. inside the sedan, valko’s eyebrows knit together, his frown deepening by the second.
“you know what's up?” caleb sets you back down but doesn't let go. his large hands stay clamped firmly onto your upper arms, his eyes wide and gleaming with pure excitement. “we won, pips! our team won the interschool championship game!”
and because of that, the bitterness from the past week evaporates. your eyes light up, a wide smile breaking across your face. “oh my god, seriously? that’s amazing!”
“i know!” he laughs, pulling you back into an another tightly crushing hug. like he's using you as a lightning rod for all his manic energy, burying his face in your hair and all that.
thwack!
the car door behind caleb suddenly flies open, the heavy edge of the metal panel smacking squarely into his lower back.
“ah—” caleb winces, a sharp groan escaping him as he stumbles forward, forced to break his hold on you. he wheels around, eyes instantly hardening into something cold when valko steps out of the sedan.
“oops, sorry about that, mate,” valko grins, pulling his lips into an awkward one. “i didn't see you standing right in the swing of the door. anyway-uh, i'm valko, (name)'s blockmate.”
caleb straightens up to his full height, his broad shoulders squaring as he looks at the guy. the warm, golden-boy smile he gives valko is entirely rigid. “right, valko. i've heard. what brings you to our driveway?”
“just driving (name) home from campus,” valko replies, matching caleb’s forced courtesy. “and making sure she got back safe. well... you must be the big brother she mentioned.”
“something like that,”
“uhm, valko was just—” you stepped between them to clear up the mounting friction, but valko cuts you off completely.
he looks caleb straight in the eye, tilting his chin up. “actually, since you're here, i think it's only fair to tell you directly. i've decided i'm going to start courting (name).”
“cough, what?”
what?
both you and caleb widen your eyes, the world going dead silent.
“and honestly, man,” valko adds, crossing his arms and offering a smug tilt of his chin before either of you can even draw breath, “you probably shouldn't be hugging her too easily like that anymore. since, you know, i’m going to start dating her.”
you internally facepalm so hard your brain rattles. oh my god. what did you just get yourself into? valko had completely, catastrophically misread the entire situation. he thought he was playing the part of the chivalrous alpha suitor, oblivious to the fact that he was currently standing in a radioactive strike zone.
but then, a part of your brain clicks into gear. you wanted a reaction out of caleb, didn't you? you wanted to wipe that infuriatingly smug, "i-can-bring-girls-to-the-house" look off his face. maybe this trainwreck of a misunderstanding was exactly what you needed.
you let out a sigh, turning away from caleb to face valko with a perfectly practiced look. “it's fine, valko. caleb is just... a guy i grew up with. really. nothing else. just two kids who happened to live under the same roof.”
valko blinks, processing this, his chest puffing out a little more. “so... like childhood friends?”
“yeah!” you nod quickly, your tone a little too casual and a little too dismissive. “yeah, exactly. childhood friends. that's the perfect way to describe us.”
from the corner of your eye, you feel the exact moment caleb’s gaze burns into the side of your face. you glance up at him, and sure enough, he is staring down at you with a sarcastic scowl—the exact, burning, “this-little-bitch” look you had given him behind the kitchen counter yesterday. the silent, petty warfare is screaming between you two.
valko, blind to the silent daggers being thrown over his head, scoffs and shakes his head. “right. childhood friends. uh, honestly, i don't really buy that whole thing. there’s no way a guy and a girl can just be friends without something else going on. it’s usually just an excuse to keep someone within arm's reach.”
your heart does a nervous, jittery little skip. you quickly scramble to patch up the defense before valko digs too deep into the truth. “no, it's not like that at all! caleb is... he's like a brother to me. we're basically siblings.”
“but we... aren't siblings though.”
caleb’s voice cuts through your sentence like a blunt blade.
you freeze, your tongue going dry as you slowly pause and look up at him.
“i'm not your brother, (name).”
what the actual hell is he talking about?
your hands go hot and sweaty against your side. this is the exact same guy who, just a few days ago while dead drunk, threw the “not blood-related” card in your face to push you away and tell you to mind your own business. he was the one reinforcing the stupid label, using it as a shield to bring other girls around—and now, right in front of the guy who just announced he wants to court you, he’s arguing the exact opposite?
you stand there completely wordless, the nervous jittery tension tight enough to snap. valko shifts his weight across caleb, looking suddenly confused by the sudden shift in the air, but caleb doesn't even glance back at him.
he keeps his eyes entirely on you.
valko clicks his tongue.
“right,” he blurted out, deliberately stepping sideways to cut off caleb’s line of sight and forcing his way back into your field of vision. “anyway! you look kind of... tight right now, (name), like your shoulders are up to your ears. there's that street-food stall down the block that sells those pork dumplings. why don't we go grab a plate? my treat. it'll help you unwind.”
your brain, currently fried from caleb, scrambles for a normal human response. “oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could—i mean, sure, that sounds—”
“‘oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could-’” caleb instantly parroted, his voice pitching into a ridiculous falsetto that sounded absolutely nothing like you. he slouched his shoulders, batting his eyelashes in a grotesque mimicry of modesty that made your fist twitch. “‘i guess i could eat a little dumpling, valko!’”
valko raised a brow.
“caleb, shut up!”
“i'm just saying,” caleb hummed at you, casually sliding his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. his thumb swiped across the screen with a smirk. “i should probably just dial up gran's unit real quick. let the nursing staff hold the receiver up to her ear so i can tell her that her precious adopted granddaughter is already out here in the driveway, ignoring her chores, just to eat cheap meat down the street with random guys from the university.”
he tilted his head, giving you a look of fabricated pity.
“man, she’s going to get reeaaally upset, pips. you know how her blood pressure gets when she finds out you're being irresponsible.”
“you wouldn't dare!” you gasped, your lungs seizing up. granny loved you, but she was a traditional woman who would absolutely launch a long-distance lecture about decorum through the phone lines if caleb fed her some twisted version of reality. “give me that!”
you lunged forward, throwing your weight against his side as you reached wildly for the device. but caleb had been anticipating the movement since the moment you took a breath. with a delighted chuckle, he simply straightened his spine, extending his long arm straight up into the air. because he had grown nearly a foot taller than you over the last three years, the phone might as well have been on the roof of the house.
“come on, grab it, pipsqueak,” he was solid as a brick wall! his chest vibrating against your forehead as he laughed down at your frustration. “you’re too short it's embarrassing.”
“caleb, i swear to god, drop your arm right now or i will kick you again!”
“hey, (name).”
you paused, breathless and flushed, looking back over your shoulder. valko had stepped closer, his expression a mix of irritation at being ignored and a tryhard desire to look like the savior of the narrative. before you could scramble away from caleb's side, valko reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around your right wrist.
“don't worry about him,” valko said, giving your wrist a soft, encouraging tug toward the open street. “come on, let's just go get the food. ignore the noise.”
the physical touch sent a strange jolt of awkwardness through you, and you instinctively took a step forward, your shoes clicking against the pavement while valko started walking you down the street.
snap.
a second basket of heat clamped down around your left wrist.
you blinked in utter surprise, your head whipping back around so fast your neck cracked.
caleb had also... wrapped his fingers around your opposite wrist. your right arm was pulled toward valko; your left arm was locked tight by caleb. you were literally being pulled in two different directions like a wishbone.
you stared at caleb, your heart doing a series of unpredictable thuds against your ribs. “what is up with you today, caleb...?”
“what?” he murmured, giving your arm a tiny, playful yank back toward his chest. “i want to eat dumplings too.”
—
and then, there you were.
the plastic stool beneath you wobbles every time someone passes the cramped table, but that's the least of your concerns. the air inside the tiny stall feels thick with the steam of boiling pork broth and the sting of chili oil. meanwhile, you're squeezed into the center of a very narrow wooden bench, a literal buffer zone between two opposite poles.
to your right is valko, leaning his elbow on the table and entirely absorbed in trying to keep your attention locked on him. then, to your left is caleb. he hasn't uttered a single syllable since you all sat down, choosing instead to stare ahead like a brooding gargoyle while a single plate of steaming dumplings sits between the three of you.
“no, seriously, (name),” valko shakes his head with a wide grin while he dips a dumpling into a small saucer of soy sauce. “professor actually looked me dead in the eye during the anatomy practical. i swear the man has a personal vendetta against me.”
you let out a breathless laugh. “maybe if you didn't sketch caricatures of him, he’d give you some grace.”
valko chuckles back, his shoulder nudging yours beneath the cramped table space. “hey, that was art. it showed appreciation for his eyebrows.”
slurrrrrp. smack. clack.
the sudden loud sound of chopsticks scraping against a plastic bowl cuts right through your shared laughter.
you blink, your head snapping toward the left side of the bench. caleb has his face nearly buried in his bowl as he takes a dripping piece of garlic-chili cabbage, shoves it into his mouth, and smacks his lips together with an obnoxious noise.
valko's grin falters slightly, his eyes darting over your head toward caleb. but caleb doesn't even look back. he just reaches across the small table, his long arm deliberately cutting off valko's view of you, and stabs another dumpling with such unnecessary force that the wrapper splits open with a wet pop.
“anyway,” you say quickly, your cheeks turning a frantic shade of pink as you try to steer the conversation back before caleb derails the establishment. “so... did you fail the practical or what?”
“uh, no, i managed a passing grade," valko says, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the absolute menace sitting next to you. “but after that, i had to spend two hours in the library just trying to—”
crunch. crunch. crunch.
caleb has now unearthed a bag of fried pork rinds from his pocket, snapping them between his teeth with a crunch. he leans back against the wooden bench, long legs splayed wide under the tiny table—his knee bumping solidly against yours with an insistence that makes you grind your teeth.
you glare at him, this little bitch is doing this on purpose.
caleb finally rolls his head over to look down at you. he takes another obnoxious bite of a pork rind, chewing it open-mouthed while raising a mocking eyebrow at you, like he was daring you to say something about it in front of your new suitor.
valko clears his throat, determined to plow through caleb's warfare like a true soldier of romance. he leans in a little closer, voice dropping into what he clearly thinks is an intimate tone. “so, anyway... since the weather's supposed to be nice this weekend, i was thinking maybe we could head down to that new cafe by the harbor? the one with the outdoor seating? we could—”
shrrrrrk!
caleb hooks his shoe around the bottom rung of your stool and, with one casual yank of his leg, slides your entire body a whole foot to the left. you instantly collide with his side, your shoulder smacking right against his solid bicep.
“what the...” you gasp, your hands flying out to grip the edge of the greasy table so you don't tip over.
but caleb doesn't even look up from his plate. he casually scoops up the last dumpling, pops it into his mouth, and speaks around it with unbothered calm. “hurry up and finish eating. we have to get back. we still have to feed our pet.“
you blink, your eyebrows nearly disappearing into your hairline. “since when do you care about the turtle?”
“i've always cared about him,” caleb turns his head to look down at you. “he's a vital member of the household.”
“i'm the only one who ever feeds him? you haven't touched his pellet container since 2024.”
“people change, sis. i've formed a bond with him over the last twenty-four hours,” caleb hums, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as his knee bumps against yours under the table again. “and right now, he's starving. we're being bad parents. so eat.”
meanwhile, valko sits on the right side of the table, his mouth slightly open. he looks at your stool, which is now physically closer to caleb than it is to him, and lets out a long defeated breath through his nose. he clearly wants to argue, but trying to debate the nutritional schedule of a reptile with a guy who looks like he could bench-press the entire dumpling stall seems like a losing battle.
so the poor guy chooses to remain quiet.
—
the very second the lock of the house clicked shut, your polite “public” face melted completely away, and you turned into a breathing volcano. “you are an actual child, caleb!” you started prattling instantly, tossing your heavy backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. your words tumbled out in a rush as you kicked off your shoes. “seriously, what was that? pulling my stool? making those obnoxious caveman noises? you were being a weirdo and an annoying prick for absolutely no reason. i feel so bad for...”
you spun around to give him a piece of your mind, but you paused.
there caleb was, leaning lazily against the doorway with his big arms crossed over his chest. he was staring down at you with a massive sarcastic scowl. ugh! he even had the nerve to look at you like youwere the one who had just ruined a perfectly good dumpling date over the turtle!
you mirrored his posture, locking your arms tight and tilting your chin up. “don't look at me like that. what is your actual problem today?”
instead of snapping back, a slow little smirk began to crawl onto caleb's face. oh, he was loving this. this was his absolute favorite game in the world, and you had just walked right into his trap. wordlessly, he unclipped himself from the doorframe and took a deliberate step toward you. and then another.
you instinctively took a step back, but clack—your hips hit the hard edge of the open kitchen counter.
you were cornered.
“my problem?“ now, caleb loomed over you, placing one palm on the counter right next to your waist to trap you in his shadow. “i don’t have a problem, pipsqueak. i was just being a protective big bro to you. isn’t that the label we chose?”
“protective? you looked like a lunatic!” you fired back, your face turning a furious shade of pink. “you were intentionally trying to ruin my conversation! for your information, you don't own me, caleb. if i want to go out and get dumplings with valko, i am allowed to.”
“with him?” caleb let out a chuckle, leaning down an inch closer until you could feel the warmth of his body. he was utterly enjoying how flustered and mad he was making you. “come on, the guy looks like he struggles with basic math. his hair looks like a bird nested in it. you seriously have zero taste.”
“huh, at least he doesn't bring random girls into our living room to scream at video games all afternoon! you had hyeran over here yesterday behaving like she owns the couch. if you can do stuff like that, why can't i?”
caleb’s smirk grew even wider, a quiet triumph gleaming in his eyes. ah, his face seemed to say, so that’s what this is really about.
“oh, so you were watching us from behind the counter,” he nudged his knee playfully against yours, anchoring you against the wood. “were you jealous, pips? is that why you let the car guy drive you home? because if you wanted to play video games with me that badly, all you had to do was ask nicely, you know?”
ah.
you had reached your absolute limit with caleb’s bottomless well of confidence. you were sick and tired of always being the one pressed against the woodwork, left all breathless and flushed while he got to stand there looking like the smartest boy in the whole wide world. you wanted the tables to turn so desperately that you could taste it, even if it meant playing a very dangerous game with your own silly little heart.
so, with a sudden narrowing of your eyes, you did something unpredictable.
yank!
your fingers reached out like little lightning bolts, wrapping tight around the fabric of caleb’s collar and pulling him downward with all your might.
oh, you should have seen his face. the teasing fool was caught off guard. his grand smirk evaporated into thin air, and a ragged little breath hitched right in the back of his throat. for the first time in a while, his polished exterior cracked into a million tiny pieces.
you didn't dare break eye contact. you leaned in just a millimeter closer, your voice dropping into a mocking whisper. “what's the matter, caleb? not so talkative now? where did all that big, brave mouth go?”
poor caleb’s brain had gone into emergency mode. inside his broad chest, his heart was drumming a frantic—thump-thump, thump-thump—so loud and violent that you could practically feel the vibration through his shirt. his large hand, still planted on the kitchen counter beside your waist, gripped the polished wood so tightly that his knuckles turned so white, as if he were holding onto the edge of a cliff to stop himself from falling over—or worse, from reaching out and grabbing you back.
seeing your victory, you decided to push your luck just a little bit further. your hand slowly traveled up from his collar, your fingertips tracing an agonizing path up the side of his warm neck, before your thumb gently tapped the very edge of his earlobe.
“look at that. for someone who acts so cool, your ears are so bright red.”
caleb swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down as he gulped down the dry air.
“you're such a hypocrite,” you mocked him one last time, giving his collar a playful shake. “always talking so much shit, but the second someone plays back, you freeze right up.”
and just as quickly as you had caught him, you planted both of your hands squarely against his hard chest and gave him a mighty shove.
whoosh!
caleb actually stumbled backward a couple of steps, his long legs flailing for a second before his feet caught the floorboards. he quickly cleared his throat—ahem, ahem—and rubbed the back of his neck.
“uh—wow,” he tries to forcefully laugh it off and turn the tension back into a silly joke. “okay, crazy lady. i- you nearly bit my nose off—”
“shut up and go jerk off to your notes, caleb.” you shot back over your shoulder.
caleb instantly went wide-eyed, letting out a dramatic cough—gack!—as he choked on his own saliva at the sheer obscenity of your remark.
you spun on your heel and marched happily down the hallway, slipping into your bedroom and clicking the lock shut with a very satisfied smile on your face, leaving the poor boy all alone in the quiet kitchen to figure out exactly what the hell had just happened to him.
serves him right.
—
and so, the great war officially began.
if you were going to be shameless about using valko as your personal human shield against your own confusing feelings, then caleb was going to be a thousand times more shameless about turning your life into a living cartoon. he became an absolute ghost in the machine, a walking disaster zone that magically appeared whenever valko so much as breathed in your direction.
on wednesday, you and valko were sitting on the low stone wall by the university quad, sharing a bag of salty chips. valko was leaning in close, his voice dropping into that tryhard smooth register again while he reached for a chip. thwack! out of absolutely nowhere, a round and suspiciously aerodynamic pebble shot through the leaves of the old oak tree, striking valko squarely in the middle of his forehead.
“ow! what the—” valko hissed, rubbing his brow as he looked around wildly.
far across the grass, standing by the sports locker rooms, caleb was casually tossing a basketball up and down in the air. he wasn't even looking at you. he was whistling a cheerful little tune, entirely innocent, though his vertical aim had been precise enough to deserve a gold medal.
on thursday, valko tried to walk you to your lab, proudly carrying your heavy medical dictionary like a true knight in shining armor. but as you rounded the corner of the science building, caleb suddenly materialized from the shadow of the vending machines. he didn't say a word to valko though. he just walked straight between the two of you like a giant solid wall, his broad shoulder subtly but violently checking valko to the side.
“oh, sorry, mate,” caleb hummed, reached down, and snagged the heavy book right out of valko’s hands before the guy could even blink. “my (name)'s got a weak spine, you know. family history. i always carry her books. thanks for holding it, though!” and just like that, he marched off, flipping through the pages of your textbook without a single care in the world.
it was a relentlessly ridiculous game of tag, a noisy circus meant to keep the terrifying gravity of that kitchen counter argument from swallowing you both whole. as long as caleb was throwing rocks and stealing books, he didn't have to think about his bright red ears, and you didn't have to think about his racing heartbeat.
until friday afternoon arrived, and the playful music finally... stopped.
the sky was the color of bruised slate when valko’s sedan pulled up along the front gates of your house. the engine let out an idling purr against the quiet pavement. you stepped out of the passenger side, but you didn't immediately walk toward the door. instead, you lingered by the open window, your shoulders slouched and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth in a rare display of genuine defeat.
today, you had failed the major quiz.
you had studied until three in the morning, your eyes burning under the harsh blue light of your phone, only to see an ugly red circle at the top of your paper. the exhaustion and the disappointment were sitting heavy on your chest, and it felt so fucking awful.
“hey,” valko seemed to catch on it, pushing his car door open and stepping out onto the asphalt beside you. he looked at your downcast face, his usual arrogant confidence softening into something genuinely concerned. “come on, (name). don't look like that. it's just one quiz. prof is a sadist anyway, everyone struggled.”
“i didn't just struggle, valko. i choked,” you muttered, staring down at the tips of your dirty shoes. “i'm supposed to be the responsible one. granny’s paying for these blocks, and i can’t even remember the difference between cellular necrosis and apoptosis when the timer's ticking.”
saying that now, it kind of makes you laugh a bit.
but little did you know, behind the glass of the living room window, a pair of eyes was watching.
caleb stood in the shadows of the house, his arms hanging loose at his sides as he looked through the pane. he had been waiting for you. he had already cleared the kitchen counter, ready to cook whatever ridiculous comfort food you wanted to cheer yourself up after a long week. but now, he was frozen. he watched the way your lower lip trembled, the way your fingers nervously twisted the strap of your bag. he knew that exact look on your face. he knew the precise flavor of your sadness because he had been the one to hold your hand through every failed exam and scraped knee since you were seven years old. every protective instinct in his body screamed at him to open the front door, to run down the driveway, to scoop you up and carry you inside where it was safe.
but he didn't move, because he didn't have the right to.
“hey,” valko murmured again, stepping closer. “hey, look at me.”
and you looked up, your eyes wide and vulnerable. before your brain could even process the movement, valko reached out. his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your smaller frame firmly against his chest in a sudden hug meant to chase the cold away.
your body went stiff as a board against his jacket, hands dangling awkwardly at your sides. you hadn't expected it, maybe because... you hadn't wanted him to do it.
inside the house, behind the glass, caleb saw it. of course he did.
the sight of another man's arms holding you—the sight of you standing perfectly still in the driveway while someone else tried to soothe your tears—rubbed bitterly against him.
it was one of those moments again, those moments when caleb couldn't summon a single sarcastic remark. couldn't pull out a smirk. couldn't even pretend to be angry. it was just a thick and suffocating wave of unadulterated possessiveness and grief washing over him.
his jaw tightened, throat bobbing heavily as he gulped down a painful breath. his hand, which had been resting lightly against the edge of the curtain, suddenly convulsed, his fingers tearing into the fabric. he couldn't look at it. he physically and mentally could not bear to see another second of you belonging to someone else, even for a fleeting moment of comfort.
with a jerk of his arm, caleb yanked the heavy curtains shut, sealing out the afternoon light and plunging the living room into darkness.
caleb blinked several times, trying to catch his breath, trying to keep himself calm, trying to stay where he's at and remove the ugly thoughts of doing something to that red-haired guy.
the living room was supposed to be a hiding place, but the walls inside granny's house had grown far too narrow to hold himself. his chest heaved, and his feet simply refused to stay glued to the floorboards. and the rationality he always wore like a freshly ironed uniform eventually disintegrated, leaving nothing but an itch that dragged him back toward the door.
it swung open with a bang that cut right through the hum of valko’s idling engine.
immediately, your head whipped around at the noise, your eyes still wide and startled from the sudden weight of valko's arms around you. but before you could even draw enough breath to call his name, caleb was already down the concrete steps.
with a sudden jerk of his forearm, caleb reached out and grabbed the shoulder of valko’s jacket, yanking the guy backward with enough force to break his hold on you.
“did she say yes to you?” caleb asked, “are the two of you officially dating right now?”
valko blinked, thoroughly bewildered and rattled by this guy's audacity. “no, we aren't, but i'm—”
“then you don't have any right to touch her like that,” caleb cut him off, his voice flat and freezing cold. “you don’t get to wrap your arms around her if she hasn't given you permission to be there. it's rude. it’s completely out of line.”
valko let out an incredulous scoff, the sheer persistence of caleb’s interference finally pushing past him. he took a step forward, tilting his chin up until he was staring directly into caleb’s face. he finally found the courage to say what he’d been thinking for weeks. “are you serious right now? what is your actual problem, caleb? what are you even to her?”
you blinked and looked up at valko.
“you’re always... hovering. you’re always throwing things, always splitting us up, always acting like you own the ground she walks on. you said you aren't her brother. she said you aren't siblings. so what exactly is your deal? what are you to her?”
caleb’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
so valko saw the break in the armor, and he drove the blade right through the crack. “do you like her?”
at that, your heart did a leap behind your ribs, the blood rushing to your ears so loudly it drowned out the noise of everything else. you desperately and subconsciously wanted to hear the syllables leave his lips, to know if the pull you’d been drowning in was something he was drowning in too.
what is he going to say? why isn't he saying anything?
but caleb couldn't answer.
he knew you were staring at him. he could probably feel the exact weight of your eyes tracking the rigid line of his jaw and the frantic rise and fall of his chest. but for the first time in his life, he couldn't meet your gaze back. his eyes darted nervously across valko, his throat bobbing in a gulp as he tried to find a lie big enough to save him.
until finally, slowly, caleb’s head tilted downward. his hair fell forward over his brow, before he hesitantly rolled his gaze down until his eyes locked directly onto yours.
gulp.
that look in his eyes...
it was something you had always disliked since you were kids. everytime the either of you brought up the subject of parents, of having a mother and a father, he did that face. except now it isn't because of that.
now...
“i'm her guardian.”
caleb answered.
“what?” your head tilted to the side, that familiar sarcastic scowl crawling right back onto your face.
“i am her legal guardian,” caleb repeated, nodding with a completely straight face. “since our gran is currently being held back at the nursing home facility for medical observation, the responsibility of maintaining the household and ensuring the safety of it falls entirely on me. i am the primary caretaker of this residence.”
this little bitch.
valko just stood there, his mouth hanging open so wide a family of birds could have moved in. “what?”
before you or valko could even open your mouths to scream at him for being an absolute fool, caleb’s heavy hand snapped down around your wrist.
“anyway, it's getting very close to six o'clock, which is the official cutoff time for driveway visitations,” caleb said, his voice dripping with an agonizingly tryhard politeness as he began walking backward, dragging you along like a sack of potatoes. he offered valko a little wave with his free hand. “thank you so much for the transportation, valko! drive home safely! watch out for the speed bumps on the main avenue, they’re quite treacherous this season!”
“caleb, you fucking—” you lunged backward, but caleb’s grip was absolute. you were forced to do a clumsy little sideways shuffle up the concrete steps, your free arm flailing in the air as you tried to offer valko at least a goodbye. “bye, valko! sorry! i’ll text you about the anatomy slides!”
but valko didn't even wave back. he just stood by his open car door, probably wondering if this whole situation was secretly a psychological experiment.
slam! click-clack!
the wooden door finally shut.
the very second the threshold was secure, caleb dropped your wrist like it was a hot potato. the authoritative guardian persona vanished into thin air, and he turned into a quiet giant. without saying a single word, without even looking at you, he spun on his heel and marched straight toward the safety of the open-concept kitchen.
you stood alone in the center of the living room.
this little brat is seriously getting on my nerves!
one second he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world, and the next second he’s inventing fake household rules just to avoid answering a simple question!
but you were not going to let him see how much he had rattled you. oh, absolutely not. you needed to get the upper hand back, even if you had to fake it.
you let out a dramatic cough to clear your throat, smoothing down the front of your wrinkled shirt before you marched over to the kitchen island. instead of hiding in your room like a coward, you hopped right onto one of the tall barstools, planting your elbows on the counter so you could watch him like a hawk.
“you are insane, you know that? a guardian? seriously? that is the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth.”
caleb didn't answer you. he was currently busy staring down at the kitchen counter with an expression of concentration. for a guy who was usually a wizard with a skillet, he looked lost. he had a carton of heavy cream in one hand, a bottle of soy sauce in the other, and a tub of margarine sitting between them like a puzzle he couldn't solve.
“you were being so aggressive out there! valko was just trying to be nice because i was having a bad day—hey i'm speaking to you!” you huffed, your eyes narrowing as you watched him confusedly pick up a bulb of garlic, stare at it like it was an alien spacecraft, and then drop it back onto the wood. “are you even listening to me, you brat?”
“what am i to you, then?” caleb finally spoke.
oh, now, do you feel that? the air in granny’s kitchen just became so thick you could probably slice it with the very paring knife you used for those apples last week. you thought you were safe sitting on that high barstool, tucked neatly behind the counter like a judge delivering a very righteous verdict.
but you forgot one very important rule when it comes to your big bro: he always knows when you’re hiding behind a loud mouth.
you should have just gone to your room. you should have just locked the door, eaten a stale cracker, and minded your own business instead of sitting out here pretending to be brave.
but it was already too late to run.
caleb finally abandoned his study of the soy sauce bottle and turned around. and then, he took a few strides over to your side of the counter. before your brain could even coordinate a retreat—shrrrrk!—caleb reached down to hook his hands around the metal legs of your stool, and pulled you a whole foot closer to him.
the proximity was so sudden your cheeks erupted into a furiously bright blush, while he just stood towering right over you.
“tell me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before lifting back to your eyes. “what is valko to you?”
“he's my... suitor?”
“and what am i to you?”
“y-you're just—i mean, we've always been—”
with a slow lean, he brought his entire upper body down, planting his palms firmly on the seat of your stool right on either side of your thighs.
“do you want me to stop playing the sibling part then? do you want me to become something else?” caleb tilted his head, his voice dropping into a soft whisper.
“what do you mean... something else?”
a faint little smile touched the corner of caleb’s lips. “you know, like... a guy. a guy to you.”
thump. thump. thump.
your heart was no longer just beating; it was a damn throbbing thing inside your chest. your hands went completely numb against the stool, your eyes wide and your mouth slightly ajar in a look of such ridiculous shock.
caleb tracked every single ounce of your panic. he saw the terror, the blush, the absolute deer-in-the-headlights look paralyzing your face.
and then, just as the tension reached the absolute breaking point... caleb suddenly let out a boisterous laugh.
phew!
he pulled his upper body back, releasing your stool from his cage. before you could even register the sudden rush of cool air between you, caleb reached out and playfully pinched the tip of your bright red nose, shaking your head gently from side to side.
“gotcha,” he chuckled and turned back to the kitchen counter. “man, you should see your face right now, you look like a terrified little bird. i'm obviously just teasing you.”
you couldn't even bring yourself to manufacture a witty comeback. you just sat there on that stool, staring blankly into the empty space between the salt shaker and the soy sauce bottle.
caleb, however, appeared to have moved on, back to being the domestic king of the kitchen, the heavy iron skillet letting out a cheerful sizzle-hiss while he tossed the chopped garlic into the oil.
“we need to head out early tomorrow to visit gran, by the way,” caleb hummed casually over the sound of the spitting grease. “like, seven in the morning early. so don't stay up late scrolling through your phone.”
the mention of your grandmother finally poked a hole through your daze. you blinked, shaking your head slightly to clear the cobwebs as you focused on the back of his neck. “...why so early? the nursing home visiting hours don't even get busy until noon.”
“i have to be back on campus by ten. coach called a basketball practice for the championship preparations, and i can't miss it.”
“ah.” you nodded to the back of his head.
you managed to survive the rest of the evening by acting like a very polite, very quiet ghost, eventually slipping into your bedroom to endure a night of toss-and-turn sleep where caleb's whispering voice kept echoing in your dreams.
until the next morning arrived and caleb decided that the boy from yesterday was officially dead and buried.
bang! bang! bang!
“wake up, monkey! rise and shine!”
your bedroom door then flew back against the wall with a violent clack as caleb marched inside like a fucking drill sergeant. before your sleep-deprived eyes could even adjust to the morning light, caleb reached the edge of your mattress.
whoosh!
with one yank of his hand, he ripped your cozy duvet clean off your body, leaving you curled up in a shivering little ball on your sheets.
“fuck, why are you so damn loud early in the fucking morning?” you shrieked.
“ten minutes, and if you're not in up, i'm leaving you behind and telling gran you love sleeping more than you love her!”
minutes later, you successfully managed to wash the sleep from your eyes and throw on a decent pair of clothes, though the inner grump was still very much awake.
you stood at the kitchen island, furiously snapping the plastic lids onto a neat little tower of tupperware containers. caleb had actually outdone himself this time—the savory aroma of freshly stewed chicken broth and garlic rice was already locked tight inside the plastic, ready to be delivered to granny's bedside.
the downstairs bathroom door swung open, and out stepped the grand tormentor himself.
you instinctively lifted your head, only for your brain to immediately scream abort mission! abort mission! because caleb had a fluffy white towel draped lazily over his damp hair, but that was the only thing he was wearing from the waist up. his broad shoulders, the sharp line of his collarbones, and the ridiculous expanse of his chest were completely on display, glistening faintly with a few stray droplets of water.
you whipped your head back toward the tupperware so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, your cheeks instantly sparking with a familiar warmth.
“hey,” he stopped right on the other side of the counter, smelling faintly of mint and soap. “did we run out of the extra toothpaste? i can’t find the tubes under the sink.”
“cabinet. it's behind the extra bars of soap on the top shelf. go look there.”
“right. thanks,” he mumbled, turning on his heel and thankfully retreating back into the bathroom.
you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. honestly, the nerve of this guy.
not long after, caleb finally emerged looking like a civilized human being again, with his heavy sports duffel bag slung carelessly over one arm.
“you ready to go?”
“yep,” you quickly gathered the paper bag full of food and stepped toward the front door.
but as caleb walked past the living room window sill, his eyes narrowed at the row of small terracotta pots sitting in the morning sun. he stopped, casually extending one long finger and poking it straight into the dark soil.
he paused.
he wiggled his finger, then, he turned his head to look at you, a knowing eyebrow crawling up his forehead. “brat. did you water the ferns today?”
you froze right with your hand on the doorknob, your lips twitching, and you turned around to offer him the most innocent cheeky smile you could possibly muster.
caleb let out a roll of his eyes.
“come here,” he pointed a finger at the floor in front of him.
“no.” you shook your head violently. “we have to leave early, remember? for gran, and your super important basketball practice!”
with a delighted laugh, caleb let his heavy sports duffel bag slide right off his shoulder, letting it hit the floorboards with a loud thud. and before you could even turn the doorknob to escape, he closed the distance between you in two strides.
“caleb, wait—ah!”
you shrieked when his large hands clamped firmly around your waist. with zero effort, he lifted your feet clean off the ground, turning you around while you flailed uselessly in the air. he marched two steps back into the living room and dropped you right against the plush cushions of the sofa.
“punishment time!” caleb laughed, instantly hovering over you and planting his knees on either side of your hips so you couldn't wiggle away.
“no, stop! caleb, i swear—!”
but your threats were instantly drowned out by your own hysterical laughter as his long fingers began mercilessly digging into your ribs. you squirmed and twisted beneath him, hands frantically trying to swat his wrists away, but he was too big, too heavy, and entirely too good at finding your most ticklish spots!
eventually, what started as a simple tickle punishment quickly spiraled into a full-blown war of the cushions.
the moment caleb’s fingers paused to let you catch your breath, your inner competitive spirit woke up. you weren't just going to sit there and take the defeat! with a heave, you planted your socks against the back of the sofa and launched your entire body forward, aiming a messy tackle straight at his broad chest.
“oh, so we're wrestling now?” caleb laughed, his deep voice booming right against your ear before he effortlessly caught you by the waist.
the rules of the house were completely thrown out the window as the two of you flipped, twisted, and rolled across the plush cushions, trying every single fake martial arts move you had ever seen on television. heck, you were pulling out all the stops—trying to hook your arm around his neck, aiming sharp elbows at his ribs, and trying to pull off a dramatic headlock.
you were starting to sweat, and you were putting 110% of your soul into making this giant human being tap out.
caleb, on the other hand? he was putting in absolutely zero effort. he was literally lying back against the pillows, letting out a loud, breathless laugh at every single one of your frantic maneuvers. to him, you probably felt like an angry flailing puppy. every time you thought you had a solid grip on his arm, he would casually just flex his bicep and pop right out of it.
“come on, pipsqueak!” he taunted, easily batting your hands away as you tried to pin his shoulders. “is that all you got? my teammates hit harder than this during warmups!”
“shut up and die, caleb!”
you threw your weight into one final grapple. but alas, pride can be a very dangerous thing when you're fighting a varsity athlete.
caleb decided the game had gone on long enough. and in one quick motion, he caught both of your wrists in a single hand, threw his heavy leg over your torso, and completely flipped you over.
oomph!
suddenly, you were now slammed chest-first against the back cushions of the sofa. caleb slid right up behind you, his body pressing heavily against your back to completely pin you down. he wrapped one massive arm securely around your upper chest like a seatbelt, while his other hand kept your wrists locked together near your chin.
you were utterly trapped in a textbook rear-naked choke hold.
“all right, game over,” he gave you a playful squeeze, anchoring you even tighter against him. “tap out and acknowledge me as your supreme ruler, and i'll let you go.”
“never! i will literally bite you before i tap out!”
“stubborn little girl.” caleb chuckled softly, his chest rumbling right against your back. “you can't move. just tap the couch and save your dignity.”
oh, he thought he had won because he was bigger and stronger? he forgot that you were smaller, faster, and willing to play dirty.
the competitive fog in your brain is a blinding thing, so heavy that your survival instincts completely take the wheel before your common sense can even map out anything else. you don't even know what possessed you. you aren't thinking about the dangerous lines you almost crossed together over the past few days; only thinking about the iron band of his arm across your chest, and the humiliating prospect of defeat.
so, you use the only lever you have left.
with a subtle shift of your weight, you arch your spine slightly and press back, slowly grinding your bum right against the heat of his crotch.
!
behind your back, caleb’s entire frame goes stiff as a stone wall. the boisterous laughter bubbling in his chest dies mid-breath, cutting off into nothing but a ragged hitch. it takes him three agonizing seconds to realize what tactic you’ve just deployed, and when it finally clicks...
“(name),” he groans, his voice no longer the cocky older brother but something rough, uncovered, and deeply rattled. “what... what are you doing?”
but instead of releasing you, his massive arm tightens around your upper torso, locking you so hard against his chest that you can feel the frantic hammering of his heart against your back. he tries to laugh it off, tries to maintain the upper hand, but the words come out strained and frayed at the edges. “nice try, though, pips. dirty tactics don't work on... nh... varsity players.”
the tiny stifled sound that slips from his throat was all the fuel you needed. it’s working. he sounds so tense, his breath coming in shallow puffs against the sensitive nape of your neck.
your own face is a burning mess of a tomato, but the taste of victory is too close. you want to remind him that he doesn't hold a monopoly on audacity in this house. you have it too.
you move again, harder this time, abandoning any pretense of subtlety. you press your ass firmly into his crotch, rolling your hips back against him in such an explicit way.
“hey, stop, seriously—” caleb chokes out, a helpless moan breaking past his lips before he can catch it. his fingers, still holding your wrists, lose their grip, beginning to tremble against your skin.
subconsciously, his own hips begin to tilt forward, meeting your shameless grinding with a press of his own. “this... this isn't working, you should try something else. or just tap out. because i'm still not... ah... letting you go.” he swallows hard, his thumb twitching against your wrist, his long legs tangling with yours on the cushions as he tries to find an exit from the trap you both built. “so just... tap out and stop, yeah?”
“s-shouldn't you... shouldn't you be the one tapping out, huh?” your heart is doing frantic and erratic loops behind your ribs, but you push through the panic. “isn't it... isn't it weird that someone you see as a sister is doing such a thing to you? you're the older one, caleb... you should tap out. be the responsible one.”
to prove that you aren't the one who is going to break first under the weight of this, you roll your hips back against him again harder, dragging your bum across the expanse of his crotch.
caleb doesn't answer you with words. he can't. all that leaves his throat is a series of thick, breathless moans—nh... ah—each one a helpless sound that shatters the last remaining illusion of the “sibling” shield you both spent years constructing.
and then, slowly, you feel a very hard thing pressing solidly through the fabric of his bottoms. it felt heavy and hot enough to burn through your clothes. your movements instantly slow down, your entire body going rigid as a fresh wave of red flushes from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. is that his...? no, no, no. you don't want to point it out. you don't want to say a single word. if you say it out loud, the universe will split wide open and there will be absolutely no going back to the way things were before.
but while you are trapped inside the spinning dizzyness of your own thoughts, you were too slow to realize that caleb's palms had snapped down around your wrists, separating them from your chin. with a surge of his upper body, he pins both of your arms flush against the cushions on either side of your head.
and then, without a single shred of his usual teasing hesitation, caleb pulls his hips back—and drives them forward, dryhumping you roughly from behind.
“ah—!”
“don't move,” caleb humps you again, a rhythmic thrust that slides his heat perfectly between your thighs. “tap out now, (name).”
no, there is no way you're going to easily tap out like this. if you do, that's just going to show him how easily he can just go to his way with you. so without much of a choice, you bite your lip.
“fuck, nh...”
why is he moaning? does this feel good for him?
“just... tap out, pips,” he pants heavily, hips rolling into you in another rough stride that makes your toes curl inside your socks. “tap the couch and tell me to stop... otherwise, i'm just gonna keep going.”
“i-i hate you,” you tighten your fingers against the cushions beneath his palms, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “caleb, ngh—i swear to god, i...”
caleb lets out a chuckle, “yeah? how much?”
he doesn't let you answer and instead slides his hands down from your wrists to grip the very edges of your hip bones. with one forceful heave of his strong arms, he hoists your hips up high off the sofa cushions, tilting your pelvis back and locking you into a perfectly angled incline—before slamming his hips forward again, driving his hard erection deep into the curve of your ass.
“not tapping out yet?”
“i-i'm not tapping—!”
you cut yourself off when caleb's hips against your bum suddenly stutters. he drives into you one last time—hard and entirely too desperate—and then his entire body goes completely rigid.
“(name)—ah, fuck—!”
caleb lets out an unvarnished moan, his voice breaking into a breathless whine as his chest shudders violently against your back. he freezes, fingers digging bruisingly hard into your hip bones before a wave of heat blooms right through his shorts, dampening the fabric of your pants.
your brain, despite having zero knowledge about how men's bodies work or what exactly happens when they hit their limit, registers the sudden wet warmth and his sudden loss of strength.
oh. he messed up.
“a-are you kidding me? did you just—”
“shut up,” caleb wheezes, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “don't... don't say it.”
“oh, i am absolutely saying it!”
being an opportunistic woman, you take advantage of his jelly-like limbs and twist your torso. caleb is usually a solid brick wall, but right now, his body is too sensitive. you wrench your hips out of his slack grip, plant your hands on his broad shoulders, and shove him backward with all your might.
thud!
caleb falls flat onto his back against the sofa cushions, and before he can even think about recovering, you launch yourself over his lap, straddling his thighs and planting your hands squarely on either side of his neck, pinning his arms down.
strangely, he doesn't even fight you. caleb is easily strong enough to bench-press you off him with one hand, but instead of resisting, he just lets out a pathetic grunt and lets his arms go limp beneath your palms.
“look at the so-called supreme ruler now,” you mock him instantly, a breathless smirk breaking across your face. “what happened, caleb? you were talking so much shit about tapping out, and you couldn't even last three minutes? you came too fast that was pathetic!”
“(name), please,” caleb groans, his face turning a shade of pink as he tries to turn his head away from your gaze. “you don't even know what you're saying.”
“well, i know you're a loser.”
“you... you started it!” caleb defends himself weakly, his voice was an embarrassed whisper while his fingers nervously twitch against the couch cushion. he finally rolls his eyes back to meet yours. “what is wrong with your head? you were the one grinding your ass against me like a p-pervert... what did you think was going to happen?”
“i was trying to make you tap out!” you argue back, your face heating up again but your grip on his arms tightening.
“by making me cum...?“ caleb whines, his jaw clenching when he lets out a shaky breath. “that's a pretty lame strategy don't you think?”
“you're just making excuses because you lost,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite the thick layer of bravado you're pouring over it. you look down at the front of his joggers where a distinct darkening patch of wetness is spreading against the fabric. “look at that. the great caleb, taken down by a simple strategy. i should take a picture and send it to your coach.”
“y-you brat, i swear to god, shut up,” caleb groans with a laugh. “you don't know what you're doing. just get off me.”
“no, i think this needs a proper inspection.”
your brain is screaming at you to stop, telling you that you are sprinting across a line you can never cross back over, but the sheer adrenaline of having caleb completely at your mercy prevents you from backing down. if you stop now, if you get off him and let him look at you with that smug smirk again, the awkwardness will literally suffocate you. you have to finish this. you have to prove he's the loser.
with a suddenly decisive movement, you reach down and grab the waistband of his joggers.
“wait—(name), hold on—” caleb gasps, his eyes going wide with panic as you pull the fabric down.
even through the cotton fabric of his dark grey boxers, his dick is thick, massive, and still remarkably heavy and hard despite having just come. it stretches the front of his underwear to its limit, a rigid outline that looks terrifying up close. holy shit. he's... he's huge.
your face is burning so hot you're pretty sure you're going to spontaneously combust. your hands are shaking, your ears ringing, but you force your fingers to move forward. you place your palm flat against the center of his boxers, wrapping your fingers directly around the pulsing length of his dick.
“ah—nh!” caleb's head flies back against the sofa cushions, fingers clawing into your waist so hard it almost hurts. “fuck, stop... i told you i'm too sensitive—”
“what's the matter?” you stammer, your voice cracking as you squeeze him slightly through the cotton, your thumb tracing the hard ridge of his shaft. “thought you said it didn't work? you're twitching so much under my hand, caleb. who's the weak one now?”
“you're... you're a psycho,” caleb pants, a strained chuckle breaking through his ruined voice. he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, jaw clenched and sweat beading at his hairline. “what about you? you're blushing like a tomato and your hands are shaking. you're terrified right now, aren't you?”
“i'm not terrified of a loser,” you lie through your teeth, sliding your hand up and down his length, the friction through his boxers causing another wet drop of pre-cum to seep through the fabric against your palm.
“fuck... ah, please,” he looks so devastatingly undone beneath you it's funny, his chest heaving while he whines against the cushions. “you're... you're cheating. this is a foul. i'm gonna tell gran you're being so...”
“granny would just laugh at you for being so weak,”
the boy who used to help you look for snails in the backyard after a heavy rain—the same boy who once gave you a piggyback ride for three blocks because you scraped your knee on the pavement—was currently pinned beneath you on granny’s floral-print sofa, stripped down to his underwear and trembling like a leaf.
it was a sacrilegious image, because for ten whole years, caleb had been the towering fixture of your childhood, the annoying older-brother figure who stole your food and made fun of your haircuts. but now, the fabric of his boxers was the only thing standing between you and a completely different world.
“you’re still shaking.” your voice was a little breathy, though you kept your eyes locked on his face to hide how fast your own heart was knocking against your ribs.
caleb let out a ragged laugh, his head tilting back against the cushions. “you aren't going to make me tap out if that's what you're planning, you silly.”
“oh, you think you're so smart?”
before he could even muster another cocky comeback, your fingers hooked directly into the elastic waistband of his boxers and dragged the fabric down past his hips.
and just like that, the angry length of caleb's dick sprang free, twitching madly in the warm morning light.
oh my god.
he was fucking huge. the thick, veins-veined shaft was throbbing with a pulse, the heavy weight of it slapping against his lower belly when the fabric set it free.
caleb’s eyes went wide as the cool air hit his bare skin, a genuine spike of panic breaking through his composure. “hey, wait, hold on, what are you planning to do?”
you stared down at the very tip of him, where a shiny drop of clear pre-cum was slowly leaking out, glistening against the skin. the sight of it made a strange spark right in the pit of your stomach.
“i'm finishing the wrestling match,” you whispered, your hand moving forward until your fingers wrapped completely around his thick shaft.
“fuck—nnggh!“ caleb gasped out loud, his entire upper body arching off the sofa as your palm made direct contact with his heat. his knuckles turned white as he grabbed the edge of the armrest. “(name)... seriously, you don't know what you're doing, stop it.”
“shut up and take your punishment.”
“you don't know shit about—oh, fuck—please... i'm gonna come again, i swear to god...”
but you weren't done pushing his limits, you wanted to erase every single ounce of that cocky exterior until there was nothing left but the vulnerable boy beneath you.
leaning down until your chest was nearly brushing his lap, you let your hand slide away from his tip—and replaced it with your tongue.
you swiped your warm and wet tongue directly over the crown of his dick, licking up the excess pre-cum and the sticky remnants of his earlier climax from the sensitive skin.
“ah-!”
at that, caleb lets out an undignified shriek that was instantly swallowed by a deep groan. his hands flew to the sides of your head, fingers tangling frantically into your hair as his dick twitched against your lips, throbbing so hard it felt like a living thing. he was whining openly now, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling with blown-out eyes.
you wrapped your lips around the very top of his shaft, sucking him gently. “(name)... i hate you... i hate you so much...”
“how much, caleb?” you mumbled against his hard skin, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your hand gripping the base of his giant length to keep him locked right where you wanted him.
“i'm not gonna last, (name). seriously, i'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop,”
but you don't stop. your tongue swipes over the sensitive ridge again, determined to drive the final nail into his coffin. truth be told, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing. your teeth graze his skin awkwardly, your suction is uneven, and your movements are incredibly clumsy, lacking any real rhythm. but caleb is just as clueless and inexperienced as you are, and to a boy whose body is already primed and hyper-sensitive from a first climax, the messy, wet warmth of your mouth feels like absolute heaven.
you keep going, your hand stroking his base while you lick the sticky tip. you just want to make him blow his top again. you need to see him completely break, just so you can hold it over his head for the rest of his life.
...or is that really all it is? because your heart is hammering so loud it's practically echoing in your throat, and a strange heat is pooling deep in your stomach as you taste him.
“fuck... i'm coming, i'm literally—ah, nh...” caleb whines out loud, his head thrashing against the cushions, his entire lower body trembling while his hips lift off the sofa, twitching directly into your mouth.
you tighten your grip, getting ready for the final victory—and then, the world violently flips upside down.
whoosh!
caleb’s hands leave your hair and snap down around your armpits. your mouth slips off his dick with a wet pop when he completely sat up before he hoists your entire body into the air like you weigh absolutely nothing.
“ah! what do you think you're—!”
and with one ruthless motion, caleb pivots your torso and bends you straight over the widely padded backrest of the sofa. your chest is pressed flat against the top cushion, your head dangling over the back of the couch toward the floor, while your hips are lifted high and trapped beneath his massive weight as he slides up behind you.
and then, you hear it. a breathless and absolutely insufferable chuckle bouncing right against your ears.
“you are such a gullible girl,” caleb pants heavily, his chest heaving against your shoulder blades as he lets out a triumphant laugh. he isn't coming at all. “did you really think i was gonna let you win that easily? you thought you could just suck me off and make me cry?”
“you literal piece of trash!” you yell, trying to push yourself up off the backrest and kicking your legs blindly behind you. “let me go, caleb, i swear to god—”
caleb's hips slide right back against your ass, his hard length pressing explicitly into your lower back to remind you who has the upper hand. he grips your waist with both hands, locking your pelvis into place so you can't wiggle an inch. “save all the shouting, okay?” he gives your hip a playful, firm squeeze. “we're right back where we started. you're pinned, you're cornered, and you're out of moves. so what's it gonna be, huh? are you finally gonna tap out or do i have to keep you bent over here all morning? 'cause i don't mind being late, you know.”
“shut up,” you choke out, your forehead digging hard into the plush fabric of the backrest. “i'm not... i'm not listening to a liar who fakes a climax just to cheat his way out of his loss.“
“it's called strategy, sweetheart. you should look it up sometime,” he chuckles, an arrogant little sound that rubs directly against your neck. “but you know... since you were so incredibly bold with me just now... since you decided you could just put your hands wherever you wanted... i think it's only fair that it's my turn now, right? that's how the game works.”
for all his cocky bravado, you feel a sudden tremor pass through his palms. his fingers twitch against your skin. he’s hesitating, isn't he? the heavy reality of what you've both done sinks into the quiet spaces of the room, but he doesn't pull back.
slowly, his fingertips hook into the waistband of your shorts. you let out a quiet whimper when he slides the fabric down over your thighs, exposing the bare expanse of your bum to the morning air.
and then, the teasing stops.
the living room goes dead silent, save for the uneven rhythm of caleb's breathing. he stares down at you, his throat bobbing in a gulp. even without turning around, you know exactly what he’s looking at. the thin fabric of your panties is kind of ruined and darkened, clinging, and utterly soaked through with a wetness from your own mounting frustration.
“...you're wet, (name). what am i supposed to do with you like this?” caleb whispers, his voice suddenly stripped of its malice.
“don't look at it, you brat.” you whimper, trying to hide your face in the sofa. “caleb, don't—just let me up, please—”
“no way, you started this. you don't get to run away just because you're embarrassed?” caleb chuckled.
then wordlessly, his fingers hook the side of your underwear, pulling the fabric upward to stretch it tight against your skin, using the soaked material to press firmly up into your sensitive folds.
“ah—”
“look at how you're reacting,” caleb murmurs, leaning his weight harder into you. “but you've been a really bad girl today, breaking all the rules... so i think you need to wait a little.”
he slowly lets go of the fabric, but his hand doesn't leave. instead, his long fingers begin to lightly trace the very edge of your soaked panties, feeling the slick heat of your wetness seeping through the cloth onto his fingertips. he hovers right over your center, brushing against you but not quite, giving you just enough phantom friction to make your toes curl, but entirely denying you the actual release you're starting to crave.
your body was now squirming helplessly beneath his palms as you try to force yourself against his hand to get more pressure, but he ruthlessly keeps his fingers just a millimeter away. “fuck you, either touch me or let me go, don't be a jerk—”
“oh i'm not being a jerk yet, (name).” caleb pants, another rough chuckle breaking through his serious expression while he watches you twist and writhe under his touch. his own erection is throbbing madly against your back, but he keeps his hips still. “will you admit defeat and tap out if i be a jerk to you, then?” he punctuates that sentence with a tentative press of his index finger into your hole through the panty.
your fingers are practically tearing into the fabric of the sofa cushion already, the adrenaline from earlier turning into a suffocating dread that makes your throat dry.
with a quiet tug, caleb’s fingers hook into the edge of your damp underwear, sliding the cotton fabric to the side.
“caleb...” your voice is a tiny squeak against the dark velvet of the couch. your hips instinctively try to lift, a sudden panic flaring in your chest. “what... what are you doing?”
but he doesn't stop. the cool air hits your bare folds for a fraction of a second before the tip of his finger presses directly against your entrance. you let out a ragged hitch of air as he slowly pushes past the tight ring of your muscles and sinking into your slick warmth.
“this... this doesn't count as anything, right?”
caleb’s broad chest is heaving violently against your shoulder blades, his entire frame shuddering as he buries his finger deeper inside you. “it’s just... it’s just a finger, (name). we're just playing the game. all of this... it's just about making each other tap out. it's not... whatever else it could be?”
you can feel the desperate lie he's spinning, his own mind scrambling to build a bridge back to sanity even while he’s stretching you open.
“it doesn't count,” he pants, his thumb pressing hard against your hypersensitive clit, making your toes curl inside your socks. “it doesn't count as long as i'm... as long as i'm not using my cock, right? we're still just us. we haven't crossed anything.”
you gulp, because a part of your brain screams at you to twist around and slap him, to scream what the actual fuck is wrong with you? but the guilt is a leaden weight sitting right on your chest. you were the one who started it. you were the one who put his dick in your mouth just to prove a point. you are just as dirty, just as guilty as he is.
“yeah,” you whisper, your voice thick with a dirty shame as you shut your eyes tight. “yeah... that makes sense. it's just... it's just a game.”
caleb then slides a second finger right alongside the first, the sudden invasion stretching your tight walls as he begins to slowly and deeply thrust inside you.
squelch. squelch.
the wet sounds of his fingers sliding through your excess moisture fills the quiet living room, explicit and loud enough to make your face burn a shade of red.
“(name)...” caleb murmurs, and it's the exact same tone he uses when he's giving you advice on your chores or asking about your classes, but his fingers are currently buried inside your vagina, driving you insane. “have you ever put your own finger in it?”
your lips press together so hard they turn white. you want to lie, you want to bite your tongue, but the mind-numbing pleasure of his thrusts is making your defenses completely crumble. “y-yeah, a... a few times only. when you weren't home.”
caleb picks up the pace slightly, the wet squelching sound getting faster, deeper, his knuckles rubbing against your bare skin.
“did it... did it feel like this?” he asks quietly, his voice shy, almost innocent, like a boy asking for help with his homework, even as his hips heavy-press against your backside. “does it feel better when i do it?”
the duality of this guy is completely ridiculous. it’s terrifying. one second he's caging you like a predator, and the next he’s whispering sweet clumsy questions like he's still the boy from your childhood. you can't even answer him anymore; you're just a flushed panting mess.
pop.
but caleb hooks his fingers out of your heat, making an involuntary whine escape your throat before you can even think to choke it down. your hips instinctively jerk backward, chasing the feeling of his fingers, but your hands only find the empty velvet of the backrest. why the hell did he stop?
behind you, the rustle of heavy fabric is loud. the weight on your lower back vanishes as caleb steps backward onto the wooden floorboards. “no need to tap out anymore, 'cause oh my goodness i'm going to be late,”
by the time you manage to push yourself up on your trembling elbows, your limbs feeling like melted wax, caleb is already completely upright. his joggers are pulled back up, the dark grey waistband of his boxers now neatly hidden away.
he looks down at you, and an infuriatingly soft smile touches his lips—the exact look he gives you when he’s being the responsible one.
“we should really get going, pipsqueak,” caleb says softly, as if his fingers hadn't just been swirling over your pussy. he reaches down, casually picking up his heavy sports duffel bag from the floor and slinging it over his broad shoulder. “i'm going to be horribly late for practice if we don't move right now. go adjust your clothes.”
you just stare up at him from the sofa, your mouth slightly open. you looked dumbfounded, your brain becoming incapable of processing how a guy can go from driving two thick fingers into your soaking womanhood to checking his watch like a middle-aged accountant.
—
the afternoon does not care about your identity crisis.
you had ended up having to visit granny all by yourself in the halls of the nursing home. the very second the two of you had stepped out to the car, caleb’s phone had erupted into a series of vibrations—his coach's caller id flashing like a warning flare. the muffled shouting through the receiver about missing the championship preparations had left caleb looking genuinely stressed, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel. he had dropped you off at the facility with an apologetic squeeze of your shoulder, leaving you to sit by granny’s bedside alone, nodding blankly while the old woman prattled on about the hospital soup and how caleb was such a good, responsible boy for taking care of you.
if only you knew, granny. if only you knew.
by the time you finally drag your feet onto the university campus for your late-day lectures, your mind is a useless swamp of static. you sit in the rows of the amphitheater, the professor's voice about cellular pathology washing right over your head like white noise.
every time the professor speaks, all your brain can register is the memory of caleb's deep and ruined moans echoing against the walls of your shared home. your fingers keep absentmindedly tracing the edge of your desk, your lower body still feeling a ghostly throb from the wet squelch of caleb's fingers stretching you open.
and by the time six o'clock arrives, the heavy tropical heat of the campus grounds is finally beginning to cool down.
usually, this is the hour where caleb’s long shadow appears beside yours at the main gates, his heavy arm slinging over your shoulder to drag you toward the terminal while he complains about how hungry he is. the habit of him is a deeply rooted thing in your bones. instead of turning right toward the exit to head straight home to an empty house, your feet lazily, almost sub-consciously, steer you left toward the concrete structure of the university gymnasium.
as you slip inside, taking a quiet seat on the very edge of the lowest wooden bleacher, the vast space is alive with a scattering of echoing noises. on the far brightly lit side of the court, a bunch of cheerleaders are practicing their stunts, and a few stray students are still lingering on the higher bleachers.
but your eyes immediately drift to the opposite free side of the court.
there, sitting in a circle directly on the polished wood, is the university's basketball team. their coach is standing over them with a clipboard, his sharp whistle tucked between his lips as he gestures aggressively toward a diagram. and right in the center of the huddle, his long legs splayed out in front of him, is caleb. he’s wearing his dark blue practice jersey, broad shoulders glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, a giant water bottle gripped in his large hand as he listens intently to the lecture.
he looks so regular like that, so athletic. so completely like the golden boy the entire school admires. you pull your knees up to your chest, wondering how on earth you're supposed to walk home with him after what he did to you this morning.
caleb is nodding along, his hand idly spinning the basketball between his palms on the floor, looking every bit the disciplined athlete. then, his eyes wander. he’s just scanning the empty spaces of the court, a subconscious habit of checking his surroundings, when his gaze drifts up toward the lower bleachers.
and lands squarely on you.
for a long second, neither of you knew how to react. the teasing grin he usually flashes when he spots you in a crowd doesn't happen. he just takes you in, his fingers freezing against the leather of the basketball. you just stare at each other, the secret weight of the morning—the wet sounds, the moaning, the taste of his dick—crashing into the space between you like a physical wall.
caleb looks away quickly, his throat bobbing as he downs a huge gulp from his water bottle, his broad shoulders tensing up as he tries to focus back on the clipboard.
five minutes later, the coach blows his whistle twice. “all right, pack it up! managers, get the training cones back in the locker. caleb, you're on equipment duty tonight since you were late this morning. secure the loose balls and the extra jerseys from the bench.”
“got it, coach,” caleb grunts, pushing himself up from the floor.
the team starts dispersing, heading toward the showers in an echoing wave of laughter and low chatter. caleb begins gathering the stray basketballs into a mesh sack, and as he nears the bleachers where you're sitting, he just stops a few feet away, slinging the heavy sack over his shoulder.
“hey,” caleb's shadow falls over your sneakers. “(name). stop being lazy and help me carry these jerseys to the storage room. coach wants a head count before the after-party tomorrow, and i'm not doing it alone.”
you blink. “can't your co-captain do it?”
“he's already in the showers,” caleb says, finally cutting his eyes toward you, a subtle, desperate intensity flickering in his gaze that makes your stomach flip. “come on. the quicker we finish, the quicker we go home. go grab the bin.”
you purse your lips, but you slide off the bleacher anyway. you grab the plastic bin filled with damp jerseys, your heart already starting to throb a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you follow his massive back toward the dark hallway at the rear of the gym.
the storage room door is heavy iron, creaking loudly as caleb pushes it open. the inside smells like old rubber, canvas bags, and dust, lit only by the faint orange glow of the twilight filtering through a barred window. you step inside, the plastic bin heavy in your arms.
“where do you want these—”
slam!
the door cuts your voice off completely as caleb shoves it shut behind you. within a snap, his large hands snap around your waist and lifts you off your feet, pinning your back directly against the solid wood of the door.
“caleb, what the—”
and your mouth is instantly smothered.
caleb drives his lips against yours with an aggressive hunger, his head tilting sharply to lock his mouth over yours. it’s a messy, bruising kiss, completely devoid of the hesitation he had this morning. he lets out a desperate whine against your lips—nhhh—his fingers digging like iron claws into your hips, pulling your lower body flush against his jersey.
“fuck,” caleb groans directly into your mouth, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. he tastes like the cool mint from earlier and the salty heat of his sweat, his jaw working against yours as if he's been starving for this for the last seven hours. “i couldn't... i couldn't even think during our practice, you know. coach wouldn't stop screaming at me but all i could see was you bent over the couch.”
“caleb—stop, someone's gonna—mmph—” you try to speak, your hands frantically coming up to push against his broad chest, but the sheer mass of him traps you.
“let them hear,” his hips slam forward instinctively, driving his hard erection—already straining madly through his gym shorts—directly into your thigh. “i don't care. i don't care about it. you can't just... nh... fuck, you were all i could think about today—”
“you were the one who stopped,” you gasp out, your fingers subconsciously tangling into the damp hair at the back of his neck. “you acted like... like nothing happened, and then you left me alone... you idiot.”
“i was scared...” caleb cries out softly, his voice a ruined whisper before he brings his mouth back up to cover yours, thumbs tracing the bare skin of your waist beneath your shirt “i'm supposed to protect you, but all i want to do is rip these clothes off you right now and pound inside you until you can't even stand up.“ a guilty laugh slips past his lips. “shit, am i allowed to say that?...”
your heart is a wild thing, hammering so hard against your ribs it feels like it might burst through your skin. “caleb—”
the rest of your breath is completely stolen when his calloused hands hook into the waistband of your underwear. there is no gentle hesitation this time, no restraint left to save either of you. with one downward tug, the fabric is stripped away, bundling around your sneakers along with your shorts.
he doesn't even take his jersey off. his dark blue varsity uniform is damp with sweat, the rough material scraping against your bare chest as he uses his body weight to pin you flat against the wood. with a trembling hand, caleb reaches down between your laps, his long fingers finding your soaking, swollen entrance. he doesn't need to prep you; you are already dripping, ruined from hours of thinking about his touch.
he aligns the angry head of his cock right against your opening. he is so incredibly huge—a terrifyingly solid length that makes your stomach drop in a mixture of fear and desperate longing.
“(name)... look at me. just look at me,” caleb whimpers, his voice completely cracked and ruined. “i can't... i can't hold back anymore. i'm going to cross this line now.”
before you can even utter a sound, caleb grips your hips like iron vices and drives his hips forward.
“ahhh!”
a high-pitched gasp is ripped from your lungs as the stretching length of his dick forces its way inside you in one thrust. it's a tight, bruising fit, your walls screaming at the sudden fullness of him while he buries himself all the way to his hilt, his lower belly slamming hard against your pelvis.
caleb lets out a shattering groan that sounds like a sob, his head instantly dropping forward into the crook of your neck. his hot breath scalds your skin, and you can feel the wet smudge of tears mixing with the sweat on his face. he is crying into your shoulder, panting like a dying man, his entire broad frame shuddering violently against you.
“ffckk... nhhh... you're so tight, it's so hot,” caleb opens your thighs wider just so he can pound into you much, much faster. “i've... i've thought about this every single night.... every time you smiled at me... every time you fell asleep.... i've wanted to do this so fucking bad...”
caleb grips your thighs, hoisting your leg up until it was wrapped tightly around his broad waist, and begins to fuck you desperately against the iron door.
thud. thud. thud.
the heavy wood rattles on its hinges with every brutal stride of his lower body. caleb drives into you as if he is angry—furious at you for making him wait this long, furious at himself for breaking the rules, and desperate to mark every single inch of your inside. he doesn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just plunges deep, his thick shaft sliding through your tight squelching wetness.
“caleb—ah!—stop, it's too deep—nhhh!” you moan out loud, your head thrashing against the door behind you. your hands leave his shoulders and wrap around his damp hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to find some anchor as his massive cock relentlessly reorganizes your insides. you can't even think straight anymore, his dick is leaving you with nothing but the raw urge to take his size and beg for more.
“not stopping,” caleb grunts against your ear, it makes your thigh squeeze tighter around his waist. he tilts his head upward, jaw clenched so hard the tendons in his neck look like wires under his skin. his eyelashes flutter, his eyes half-closed and ghost-blinking as he loses himself entirely to the pleasure. “fuck, why didn't we d-do this sooner?”
he thrusts into you even deeper, his hips rolling with a newfound precision that hits a sensitive spot deep within your womb.
“hnggh, caleb, deeper, deeper...!”
“what was that, huh?” caleb suddenly pulls out, bringing your legs down.
“what are you... a-are you going to leave me again?”
he smirks, pressing a kiss against your forehead while you felt the wamrth of his hands grabbing your right leg to hoist it up high - up, up, and up - until you're now sideways, leg stretched open and high enough that your ankle was an inch away from caleb's face. “deeper, right?” in a second, he drives his cock back into your hole, this time making sure that every thrust he gave you was a slap on the womb.
“ahngh, caleb!—”
the orange twilight through the barred window slowly deepens into a thick midnight blue, but the desperate rhythm inside the storage room doesn't stop.
for the next few hours, the university gymnasium becomes completely empty, the lights on the court turning off one by one until the only sound left in the entire concrete structure is the repetitive rattle of the iron storage door. caleb completely loses his composure, his body moving on pure instinct while he continues to drive his length into your soaking heat over and over again.
the dynamic between you never truly changes, even as the skin of your hips turns a deep, flushed pink from the iron grip of his palms. every time he tries to pull that annoying tone to tell you to take his size, his voice shatters into a pathetically high-pitched whine the second your tight walls squeeze him. you don't let him have the satisfaction of total victory either; even when your legs are trembling so hard you can barely keep them still, you still find the breath to mock his stuttering moans, driving your fingers into his damp hair to yank him down into bruising, messy kisses.
by the time caleb finally collapses against your chest, his chest heaving as he spills his fourth climax deep inside your womb, the moon is already high over the campus grounds. he stays buried inside you for a long time in the dark, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he whimpers out how much he hates you for completely ruining his brain. you just hold onto his sweaty back, your chin resting on his damp jersey, knowing that the comfortable childhood bubble you both lived in is gone forever—and neither of you has any intention of tapping out.
premise: after a bad encounter with a witch, anyone you date is cursed to become obsessed with you. you don't really believe that kind of thing, so you continue to go on dates like usual. oh, you quickly find out that you were very, very wrong.
(yandere! honkai star rail x reader) (modern au)
nsfw, dark content minors dni
"from now on, any man you date will forever be enamored with your very being."
if anything, those witch's words might've been a jinx.
she wasn't necessarily a witch, but a fortune teller that you had passed by one day on the way to work. it'd been such a passing phrase that the moment was immediately forgotten.
except, you can't help but remember them now.
for the first half an hour, the only thing veritas ratio (or "dr. ratio," he adds snidely) talks about is his job. you don't even know why he wanted to go on this date in the first place. he seems like he'd rather be at his job.
so much for a good first impression.
he doesn't say anything unless it's related to academia, research, anything related to his work. he doesn't say much, but when he does it's filled with so much ego it's honestly draining.
you don't know why, you feel like it's your job to fill the silence by rambling about whatever topic comes to mind. perhaps it's something close to first-date etiquette or your fear of the awkward quiet—attempting it making small talk. but he doesn't even engage.
he just eats his food quietly without giving any kind of reaction. so you just give up. you talk about all sorts of things: your occupation, your hobbies, the tv shows you watch, sometimes even the occasional complaint about someone you know. it doesn't even count as small talk at this point. it feels a lot more like you're ranting.
you're not embarrassed at all, though. you don't even plan on seeing him after this. so why bother?
after what feels like forever, you two finally decide to head out. he offers to walk you home, and since it's late and you don't live very far, you accept. the walk is silent, but at that point, you're too mentally drained to try to fill the quiet. it's not like the walk is long anyway. you just want to say goodbye and never seen him again.
while you're unlocking your door, you turn to thank him for the gesture out of politeness. however, your words are quickly swallowed up by his mouth on yours.
he lets out an uncharacteristic groan upon contact, almost as if he was waiting for this. caught off guard, you let out a gasp, which he takes advantage of. his tongue creeps into your mouth, caressing and flicking against yours sensually.
"i've been looking forward to this all night," he sighs into you.
you don't think on his words too much.
while you hate his personality, you don't hate this. first dates may be a little iffy, but you have nothing against a hookup once in a while, especially with someone so conventionally attractive.
so you hook your arms around his neck and tug his hair softly. he lets out a breathy moan you weren't quite expecting. you can physically feel him shudder under your touch.
with one hand crawling up your shirt, greedy to feel your skin against his, he leads you back into your own house and smoothly closes the door behind him.
sex with him is good, taking you by surprise with how sensual he is. you feel every fingertip of his trace your skin, drawing lines between all your blemishes and beauty marks.
he trails kisses from your throat down to your breasts, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time.
"you're so beautiful," he whispers, "like a brand new discovery. a fresh miracle the universe created just for me."
even though he's been an ass all night, you feel warm.
when he's inside you, he rocks into you in a steady, but quick pace. you arch your back in pleasure, to which he encourages with his hand pressing you closer to him. you grind into him instinctively while he buries his face into your tits and moans against your skin, breathless.
but as good as he was in bed, though, you don't really see yourself pursuing anything exclusive with him. however, it seems as if dr. ratio has other plans.
he keeps texting you, hoping to set up another date. he'll ask you what you're up to, if you're interested in going out again soon, and tell you that he misses you.
the attention feels nice, but he's not want you want. so you block him without regrets and move on with your life.
even after three weeks, dr. ratio still hasn't give up on you, it seems. every time you block him, he just changes his phone number, his social media handle, and you're starting from square one.
maybe he's a little pushy. but you've handled people like this before. they'll get bored soon enough, even if it is a little tiring to go through.
so when you run into dan heng at the local supermarket, it's like a breath of fresh air.
you used to date once, a couple years back. you liked how despite his cold exterior, he was a kind soul. conversations between you two just felt natural. you never felt like you had to read in-between the lines to understand what he meant.
throughout your relationship, he never hounded after you about where you were or who you were with. he never blinked an eye when you had other plans or were having a one-on-one conversation with someone else. although you're exes now, you broke up on good terms. so you don't hesitate to say hi.
he smiles, but he doesn't seem surprised. "it's nice to see you here."
you grin in return. "it is! how have you been?"
the two of you agree to get a cup of coffee (or tea, in dan heng's case) together. you meet up at a cafe that the two of you used to frequent together, the smell of freshly baked goods and coffee beans bringing in old memories.
though you haven't talked to each other in a very long time, it's like you two saw each other yesterday. dan heng's relaxed as always, and for a second it feels like nothing has changed. you two catch each other up on your respective lives like a pair of old friends.
"so, have you been seeing anyone?" dan heng asks nonchalantly, bringing his cup to his lips. the question comes out of the blue.
"hmm," you consider, "no, not really. i haven't gone steady with anyone in over six months. have you?"
you might be seeing things, but dan heng almost looks pleased. he takes a long, slow sip of his tea before saying anything. "no, i tried, but i couldn't."
he brings his cup down, staring at his drink thoughtfully before bringing his eyes up to you.
"but no matter what, i couldn't stop thinking about you."
his words bring warmth to your cheeks. dan heng's never been one to embellish or lie, so he must be telling the absolute truth.
he leans forward, a contemplative look on his face. "i... know i seemed detached when we dated. you were my first girlfriend, my first love. i had a lot to learn about loving someone. but... i'm better now. so, would you ever reconsider falling in love with me again?"
...
"are you...alright?" dan heng's brows furrow, a small, confused frown curling his mouth. "perhaps, i didn't say anything wrong, did i?"
you're quick to recover from your shock. "oh, no, no, not at all. i just wasn't expecting that." it's very much different from the dan heng you knew, who seemed to barely send you a second glance unless you explicitly asked for it.
it feels...nice to hear his words. for some reason, it gives you some closure. a comfort to the old you who was hurt by his indifference. but you're older, and you're two different people. it might feel gratifying to finally feel wanted by the man you once loved, but you broke up for a good reason.
"ah, i see." he looks more contentful now. "i hope you don't take this the wrong way, but i've been... preparing myself for you. i'm a changed person now who can love you the way you deserve. i just can't stop thinking about how you looked like when you were seeing that researcher and... and i—"
the smile he gives you looks innocent, but the intention is unsettling.
"i just... knew i had to see you again."
your blood runs cold.
"really?" you supply, despite your loss for words. "um, i appreciate that, i really do. i wish i could stay and talk with you more, but i just realized that i'm meeting up with my friend soon."
you take out your wallet and grab a handful of money and carelessly slap it onto the table.
dan heng gets up with the most desperation you've ever seen him have. "oh, that's a shame. if that's the case, i can give you a ride and we can talk more on the way there?"
"no! no, it's okay. don't mind me. it was nice seeing you again, dan heng."
you turn away and don't look back.
okay, maybe your "dates" have been a little wonky recently. dr. ratio won't stop texting you or calling you. he's even sent the occasional bouquet of flowers to your house. dan heng's not any better, because you keep seeing him everywhere you go.
you're starting to think that this "jinx" may not only apply to people you're currently dating, but people you've previously dated. but other than dan heng, no other ex has tried to reach out. so, with so little data to work with, you're not really sure what's going on.
so you stay away from dates for the time being. no mixers, no blind dates, no nothing.
but one-night stands are different, right?
the first thing phainon tells you is that he's not looking for a relationship. it's almost too perfect.
when he lets you into his apartment, the first thing he does is kiss you. it's raw and greedy and it sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
every time you part from each other, he takes in a deep breath like he's mentally preparing for when your lips lock again.
"you're so good," he murmurs. "so fucking good—i can't stop."
you're feeling gutsy, so you reach down to palm the heat of him, relishing in how much he's enjoying you.
"then don't," you reply with a laugh.
he pulls away to look at you, his gaze so intense it makes your pussy tingle.
despite the countless signs of the universe to stop, no matter how small, you can't help but chase the feeling of being embraced, being paid attention to, being loved. perhaps there's a pit of loneliness you're trying to fulfill. but tonight, you're not here to uncover all of that.
tonight, he holds onto you like you're his lifeline.
he presses a kiss to your ankle, your legs hauled over his shoulders. you clench the sheets as he pounds into you. every time he pulls out, he slams back into you with impressive stamina like he can't bear to be not be inside of you.
phainon's groans are low and guttural, sweat dripping down from his chest onto your stomach. you've lost track of time of how long you've been entangled with one another. every time you think it's the last round, he surprises you with another hard-on.
and yet no matter how hard he rails you, he won't bring himself to lose eye-contact with you. it feels personal. intimate.
"that's right, keep moaning for me, don't stop—hah."
you can feel him in every inch inside of you. every time you look away from him, he grabs your chin to bring you back to earth—back to him.
if it wasn't stimulating enough, phainon brings a hand down to your clit, rubbing it so adoringly it makes you see stars.
"i need this pussy, nngh! i love this pussy, i love you."
you're so overstimulated you can't process the things he's saying.
"—need this pussy wet and creaming for me. you have one more in you, right? please?"
it feels like phainon's fucking into you with so much emotion. like he's letting out all of the pent up emotions, frustration, anger, sadness, envy, want, love, into fucking you senseless. he's unfurling everything that he's been wanting to express (to the world, you think) in this one moment, wrapped up in your warmth.
"please?"
it becomes all too much, and you can feel your orgasm coming in like a flood.
"yes! yes! i'm cum—ing!"
you can feel him cumming with you, his dick steadily pulsing as your walls twitch around him. he holds you tight against him, kissing you endlessly.
when the two of you finally finish, you let out a desperate gasp of air. the both of you are out of breath and exhausted. yet he doesn't hesitate to crawl down to your pussy and admire the spillage he's caused. his cum leaks out of your in dribbles, the sensation of it dripping causing your pussy to twitch.
"wait, i'm dirty—aaah!"
phainon licks your pussy, drinking up your cum and maintaining eye contact with you all the while. he's eating like he's been starved this entire time. you can't help but moan as he continuously cleans you out with his tongue.
after, once both of your are fully cleaned up and sated, his arms coil around your waist and tugs you into his chest. he buries his face into your neck and sighs, appreciating your warmth.
"to be honest, i thought i wasn't ready for a relationship. i always thought that i had things to sort out first, and that it would be unfair of my partner to unpack it all for me. but... laying with you... like this.. i think it'd be easy to love you," he murmurs sleepily into your skin. "i wouldn't mind seeing you again."
you've been looking at this man all night, but this is the first time you're processing how he's looking at you. you'd mistaken hornyness for genuine attraction. it's as if he's had some sort of revelation literally overnight. maybe he really was letting out all his emotions through sex.
"i don't want to date right now," is all you can muster.
"that's fine, we don't have to date. we can just fuck each other, i'm fine with that." his grip tightens. "as long as you don't see other men. i feel like i would hate that. i think i'd get angry enough to kill someone."
you don't say anything and just lay there in silence, waiting for him to finally give in to the exhaustion.
it scares you so much you're gone before dawn breaks.
at this point, you're starting to thing this whole curse thing might be real. thus, you take it upon yourself to avoid anything remotely romantic or sexual in nature like the plague. you no longer go on blind dates or mixers, have hookups, or even think of pursuing anything with anyone.
you've tried countless times to search or contact the person who supposedly cursed you in the first place, but it's as if they disappeared off the face of the planet.
so instead you opt to stay at home, where it's safe.
but it's lonely, you realize. you used to go out so often and now you've just gone cold-turkey. it's isolating.
so when one of your best friends takes notice and invites you to the club to celebrate her birthday, you agree.
while you're getting ready, you promise yourself to turn down anyone who so much as looks at you. you're not going to get caught up in some passerby, you're not going to pursue anyone who catches your eye. you're just here to celebrate your girl and reconnect with some friends.
right?
it's loud. it's loud and extremely crowded. but at least ruan mei and serval are having fun. as for march 7th, she's at the bar fooling unsuspecting men into drinking contests they can't win.
you're having a good time around when aventurine slides up to you from behind.
"i haven't seen you here before," he almost shouts over the loud music.
you turn to face him, scowling. "yeah, let's keep it that way."
"aw, don't be like that."
"i'm not looking for anything."
he grins. "it doesn't have to be anything. just fun."
you huff and turn away, but aventurine follows. "oh, come on."
"i've heard that plenty of times before."
you let yourself get lost in the crowd to get away from him. you've met plenty of guys like him before. the interaction with aventurine reminds you of the witch's words, eliciting an unsettling feeling in your gut. but today's serval's birthday, and you don't want to be a downer. plus, you haven't even pursued anything with this man. you just met him. so you don't say anything and just set out to avoid him for the rest of the night.
an hour or so later, you're a little bit tipsy. serval twirls you around with a laugh, to which you let out a surprised squeal. the room is spinning a little, and in the midst of regaining your balance you lose sight of the girls.
it's right then that you suddenly feel someone pull you by the waist and grind against you.
"looking for someone?"
you reflexively push aventurine away from you. "i'm...looking for my friends."
he spreads his arms, a teasing smile on his face. "aren't i a friend?"
you don't dignify that with a response, turning away to look for your friend. aventurine grabs your wrist before you can leave.
"don't be like that. don't you want to take a little gamble with me? i promise it'll be worth it."
"no thanks," you scream at the top of your lungs to make sure that he can clearly hear it.
you tug away, but he still doesn't let up. instead he pulls you with enough force for you to fall right into him.
"aw, and here i was hoping you'd change your mind."
you raise your fist to hit him to let you free, but he grabs that too and pulls you closer. you can feel his hardness press into your inner thigh.
"but i always like the risk—"
somewhere in the crowd, you hear someone shout your name. serval pushes through the throng of people with an impressive strength until finally reaching you.
upon serval's arrival, aventurine finally lets go of you, holding up his hands as if he was ever harmless.
without another word, serval takes your hand and leads you away from him. "come on, we're leaving. that guy's bad news."
you're heart warms at the warmth of serval's touch, grateful for her intervening when she did.
you, serval, ruan mei, and march 7th suddenly decide that maybe drinking the night away at serval's house even when gepard was there maybe wasn't such a bad idea at all.
when you wake up later with a hangover (and you definitely will have a hangover), you'll curl into yourself as you recount last night's events.
as serval had dragged you away from that creepy guy, you couldn't help but look back. he'd been smiling so disturbingly, as if he knew something you didn't, with a small wave. hopefully, you never see him again.
ding!
your phone on the table lights up a new notification. with bleary eyes you crawl over to grab it and turn it on. it's a text from a new number.
why are you avoiding me?
you slam your phone on the table with newfound resolution.
that's it. you need to find that witch.
part 2: when all of your dates are addicted to you
18+ mdni | obsessed yandere caleb🤤 i mean obsessed yandere caleb🤤 sorry i meant obsessed yander
TW. kinda stalkerleb, gege/calling him older brother, dubcon i feel like, dryhumping, he cums in his pants, unread and unedited i’m sorry :(
as a child, caleb’s protective and overbearing nature was seen as cute. the way he’d trail after you had always made the older women in your neighborhood coo over what a doting older brother he was. even you kinda liked it—the fact your handsome gege who had so many admirers only had eyes for you.
eventually though, it began to lose its charm. he still acted the same; calling you everyday, asking why you were out late, who you were hanging out with—the only difference was that you guys were adults. you had done everything together as kids, but now you had your own life, one that caleb didn’t have the right to intrude on whenever he felt like it.
you tried to pull away, put distance between the two of you, but somehow he always managed to get even closer than before.
your weekly calls were filled with questions asking how that coworker you liked is doing, something you couldn’t recall telling him about.
the café you stopped by after work was now his favourite place too, conveniently bumping into you every time you were there.
whenever you asked how he knew all this, he’d simply shrug.
“you tell me things.”
you bit your lip, palms clamming up at his intense gaze. “i never told you that.”
he’d smile, “lucky guess.”
it should’ve sounded charismatic with that sweet eye smile of his, but instead it left a strange feeling sitting heavy in your stomach.
you never stayed mad at him for long though. how could you? he really was the perfect, most caring older brother anyone could ask for. like every time a date canceled, one after another dropping like flies, he’d be there with a bag of your favourite takeout in hand.
“since you’re free now,” he’d say, already raising it to show you.
you never even had to text him before he was showing up, swiping away your tears and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he walked you back to your place.
“he was a loser anyway. barely makes enough to spoil my princess, you’re too good for him”
an alarm went off in your head at the comment, curious as to why or how he knew your dates salary when even you didn’t, but you didn’t have the chance to ask as he lead you inside. he placed the bags of food on the counter before turning to your figure, watching you take your shoes and coat off.
“i’m jus’ saying…maybe you don’t have to look that far for a perfect guy.” you quirked a brow at his words, a shiver running down your spine when you realized he was staring down at you. “i’m always gonna be here. i know all your favourite things. no one else is gonna understand your life like i do.”
he punctuated each word with a step towards you, leaning down once he had you crowded against the wall. “i read your diary pips. i know you’ve thought about it.”
warm breath fanned against your face as your cheeks tinted red. “w-what are you talking—“
“i wonder if caleb leaves the uniform on during sex, or if he uses that interrogation stick. id kill to have him order me around like a dog. those are your words, right?”
you slowly nodded with shame as everything began to click, how he knew all the small details about your life without you telling him. before you dwelled on it too much, he spoke again.
“wanna try some of those thoughts out?”
not giving you a chance to respond, caleb pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth, tongue immediately licking the seam of your lips before wrapping around your own. you barely registered what was happening as he picked you up, pressing his bulge into your hot core as he continued his assault on your mouth. “taste so fuckin good…even better than i imagined”
a whine left your throat when he nipped at your bottom lip, pulling away with a growl before kissing down your neck. “c-cay, maybe let’s take it slow?”
he pulled away from your neck, an already fucked our expression in his eyes before he chuckled darkly. “y’know that’s not what you call me…”
he watched you swallow, an audible gulp sounding through the room. “g-gege…” you whined, the endearing term making caleb thrust particularly hard against your clothed cunt.
“good fuckin’ girl…” he growled, going back to marking your neck. “gonna leave these for everyone to see. even if you try n go on another date, they’ll know you belong to me.”
his lips trailed to your pulse point, tongue flicking against it before he began to suck harshly, hips relentlessly grinding against you. your heart raced with every movement, pulling at his brown locks for stability.
“m-my girl…you’re mine, pips” he whined, thrusts turning erratic. you felt a wet spot bleeding onto your jeans as he slowed down, still holding you against the wall as he panted into the crook of your neck. just as you thought he was about to put you down, caleb carried you towards your room, throwing you onto the bed as he shrugged off his coat.
stalkerleb! who already has a list of baby names he came up with sitting in his notes app. he’s already planned out every single second of your future together. it’s not fair that you’re so ungrateful, so unco-operative when he tries to woo you into putting his ring onto your finger and move into the home he built for you, just you, for the rest of your life and just let him be your husband and have his baby.
stalkerleb! who’s clinging onto you for dear life as you try to shut the door to your apartment. he didn’t mean to punch the living daylights out of your date. it’s not your fault you can’t recognise a bad man, caleb’s just trying to help! ‘that man was going to hurt you’, he explains, fingers desperately digging into your thighs as you semi-drag him across the carpet of the corridor, like dragging a tearful puppy on a leash, ‘that man doesn’t know you like I do! and I know everything.’
stalkerleb! who’s seething in jealousy, watching you welcome some cardiologist ‘just-a-friend’ into your home. he knows what’s going to happen. the cameras he installed (in the housewarming gift he got you) and the peephole he drilled (into the empty walls of your bathroom) also help. you’re having dinner with that guy now. and…now you’re in bed with him. caleb punches the screen of his monitor, sending shards of glass everywhere.
stalkerleb! who’s curled up outside your door when you wake up the next morning. he’s been there all night. when zayne tries to leave, the door hit something hard. zayne looks down and sees caleb hunched right outside by the threshold, his eyes bloodshot as he almost immediately starts a brawl with him right then and there. if you hadn’t intervened, there would surely be a few broken parts.
stalkerleb! who begs you for your forgiveness on his knees when you found out about the camera and the peephole and god knows what else. he really didn’t mean to invade your privacy like that (he definitely did) but you’re so hard to pin down! if you just moved out of your cheap little apartment and into his house that he specifically made and decorated just for you, you wouldn’t be having these problems.
stalkerleb! who laughs when you block him on all of your socials. who chuckles when you change your number. he’s delusional enough to believe that any little bit of attention from you is positive for him.
stalkerleb! who replaced the staff at your local police station with his men. when you go running to them to report caleb, they seem rather unbothered. they promise to send the file through though, so don’t worry! except the report only reaches caleb at the top. he promptly tears your fearful report of your ’stalker’ into pieces and keeps watching you through the feed.
stalkerleb! who has a big fat grin on his face as two real, uncorrupted policemen haul him away, the metal shackles of his handcuffs jingling with every step. his nose is bleeding (obviously he hadn’t gone down without a fight). finally, after months of unease, your stalker has been arrested. but something tells you this isn’t the last time you’ll be seeing him…
EXTRA! stalker!perses who, as a politician, influences the election results to ensure that it turns out the opposite for what you wanted. you worry it’s not safe for you to live here anymore. perses’ au is set in a dystopia, after all. and when you’re distraught, he comes over, offering his dearest condolences. ‘daww…don’t be sad, pipsqueak. you’ll be safe, as long as you’re with me.’
your boyfriend has spent weeks trying to convince you to be rough with him. as a birthday gift, you finally slap him ♡
cr: @/rxdchill on X
CW: NSFW. Face slapping, power bottom, shy reader, switch Caleb, birthday sex, rough sex?
-
Caleb had been begging you for weeks to be rough with him. He was practically pleading you to be mean to him, something you had been too shy to do. But his birthday was only minutes away, and tonight you had decided to be brave. You were going to gift him exactly what he had been asking for so fervently.
You were riding him slowly at first, savoring the stretch of his cock deep inside you, already teetering on the edge of your own orgasm. Caleb’s hands gripped your hips, his breath ragged as he looked up at you with dark, needy eyes.
You leaned down and kissed him fiercely, biting his lower lip until he hissed. Then you sat back up, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you began to ride him faster. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, accompanied by his moans. His eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his usual charming smile had been replaced by raw desperation. “Fuck yes, just like—”
You glanced at the clock: 00:00. Your hand moved before you could second-guess yourself. The slap cracked across his face, sharp and stinging, snapping his head to the side. A red mark bloomed on his cheek instantly.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. You panicked. “Was it too much? Caleb, I’m s—”
Then, his cock twitched violently inside you. A broken, guttural sound tore from his throat as his entire body seized. His hips jerked up as he buried himself deeper, coming hard, pulsing thick and hot deep inside you. The orgasm seemed to drag on forever; his abs clenched, his hands strained against your hips and waist, and his mouth fell open in shocked pleasure.
You watched, stunned and aroused, as he trembled through the aftershocks, his eyes glassy.
“Shit…” he finally gasped, a dazed, blissful laugh escaping him. “Did you just—?”
“Happy birthday,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with a newfound confidence. You traced the bright red mark on his cheek with your thumb, your skin still buzzing from the contact. Seeing your own handprint on his skin sent a fresh, sharp jolt of electricity straight to your core. You looked down at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, still feeling shy but emboldened by his reaction. “Did you… did you like it?”
Caleb didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze darkened, shifting to a predatory intensity that made your breath catch. Before you could process the look in his eyes, he flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion and hovered over you.
He captured your lips in a bruising, possessive kiss. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven.
“Like it? I’ve never come faster in my life” he rasped, his voice vibrating through your own chest.
He didn't give you time to recover. He shifted his weight, thrusting into you with a force that made you cry out.
“Do it again,” he whispered against your lips, his voice dropping into a low, commanding growl. “Harder.”
₊꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶₊
happy birthday caleb, I love you. I wish I could slap you ♡
You’re not even really sure what happened. You’re having a good time, you are. It feels good, and you normally like this position.
So why do you feel so…dirty?
He notices your change in demeanour, the way your moans cease and you go quiet. He stops, pulling out slowly and reaching for you. You resist for a moment, not wanting him to see you crying.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds so worried about you. It’s his nature, to worry.
“Nothing I-I’m fine. We can keep going.” You sniffle, and his decision becomes firm. His arms come around you, pulling you into his lap and hugging you.
“We’re done, okay? Does anything hurt?” The tears are rushing out now, and you have to swallow your sobs to answer.
“N-no. I-I’m fine really I don’t-I don’t know what happened.” You don’t need to go into detail. Zayne hums in understanding, cool hand stroking your heated skin as he holds you closer.
“It’s okay. Let it out.” He presses a kiss to your head as you sink into his embrace, sobbing.
When you begin to calm down, he helps you sip some water, wrapping the blanket around you. Zayne doesn’t let you apologize, not for this, but you don’t let him say it either. It’s no one’s fault, the two of you agree.
You had been a brat all day. You couldn't help yourself, really. Zayne was always so composed and you wanted nothing more than to see him snap. You'd started off small, just a couple pictures of your naked body that "accidentally" got sent to him. He'd left you on read. Next was a voice note, detailing just how bad you needed him.
Again, left on read.
By lunch, you were getting frustrated. Surely it couldn't be that hard to make him snap. Even a single, tiny crack would be better than nothing. You'd picked up your phone one last time, typing a filthy paragraph about how you wanted him so deep in your throat that you couldn't talk properly for days after.
He'd sent you a thumbs up.
By the time he was home, you hadn't given up. You'd watched him go right into his office without so much as a glance in your direction, so of course, you'd followed a minute later.
As you walk in, he's sat behind his mahogany desk, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, seemingly absorbed in a surgical report. You, however, are absorbed in him. Dressed in nothing but his crisp, white button-down shirt, you stop right in front of his desk. The fabric was far too big for you, the hem easily hitting your mid-thigh. You'd rolled the sleeves up to your elbows, but that didn't stop the fabric from falling off your shoulder slightly.
"Those files are boring." You whine as you lean across his desk, purposely invading his personal space as your fingers slowly undo the top three buttons of the shirt. You feel pretty damn smug with yourself, assuming Zayne would drop everything just to see you naked before him.
"They are necessary." He replies, not even bothering to look up from his reports, though he can see you. He can see how badly you're trying to get his attention, but he's not in a playing mood today. Your texts had only made it worse.
"Your shirt is unbuttoned. Fix it and go find a book. I'm busy."
You let out a sharp gasp then, mildly irritated that he'd dismissed you so easily. Mildly turned on at his composure. You don't leave. You step right around his desk until you stand right next to him, leaning down to press light, open-mouthed kisses just under his jaw. You're determined to shatter that calm, cool persona of his.
"You're no fun. All work and no play makes Doctor Zayne a very dull man, indeed."
You barely have time to get the words out.
Zayne's hand shoots up, his fingers firm as they grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You try to muffle the small, excited whimper that leaves you, but Zayne catches it. He always does.
"I told you to behave." He warns, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of the strength he could easily use on you.
"Make me."
The shift is instantaneous. You hear the screech of the chair against the floor as he shifts, and before you can blink, your world is tilting. He pulls you across his lap, one hand tangled in your hair while the other hikes the hem of his shirt higher up your body to fully expose your ass to him.
The first strike is heavy, a solid crack that echoes against the quiet of the office. You gasp, your hands grasping onto the fabric of his trousers. Instantly, your skin stings, heat blooming across your ass. But you like it. You like knowing you've pushed him to this point.
"That is for the photo you sent during my morning consultations." He says, his voice low. "I had a patient's chart in one hand and your indiscretion in the other."
Crack.
"Two. For the voice note. I don't recall giving you permission to speak to me that way while I'm at the hospital."
Crack.
The third one is firmer than the last two, making you cry out. You try and squirm to get away, to beg for his forgiveness and his touch all in the same breath. His hand simply tightens in your hair, a silent warning. You're so wet it hurts. If you could just get his hand between your thighs...
"Three. For that obscene paragraph at lunch. A thumbs up was all you deserved for such a blatant attempt to disrupt my focus."
He pauses then, and for a second, you think it might be over, but his hand doesn't move away. Instead, he rubs at the angry pink skin of your ass, his touch deceptively soft all while you twitch underneath his hand. Every slap has only turned you on further, and you almost can't help yourself as you try and arch into his hand.
Zayne raises an eyebrow as he watches you, noting the way you tremble across his lap. Slowly, his fingers dip between your legs, a quick, amused huff leaving him as he finds your dripping pussy. He should have known.
"This wet over a punishment? You really are a brat." He mocks softly, his long fingers finding your aching clit with a surgical precision. He circles once, twice, just enough to make you whimper and rock back against his hand, before he's pulling away again, leaving you cold and wanting.
Crack.
"Four is for not listening when I told you to go find a book."
Crack.
"Five is because we both know you're going to act out again tomorrow just to see if I'll put you back over my knee."
You're shaking now, a few stray tears slipping out and trailing down your cheeks. Your ass is a vibrant, angry red, and the heat radiating from you is intense. You want more. You need more. If all you'll get tonight is a firm punishment, then you'll eagerly accept it.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
"That voice note is still ringing in my ears and I'm still quite irritated by it." He says, though you can feel the way his body is saying otherwise. As your stomach presses against his thighs, you can feel how hard he is just against your side. You shudder against him, a pathetic little moan of pure want leaving your lips.
His hand kneads the supple flesh of your ass, massaging the sting deeper into your skin until all you can focus on is how badly you need his fingers on your clit again. The hand in your hair slowly lets you go, moving to cup your cheek as he wipes your tears.
You think it's over.
Crack.
This last blow is far lighter than the ones before, almost a warning slap. A reminder of how easily he'd flung you over his knee. You need him so badly it hurts.
"What was that for?" You whimper as you tilt your head to lean further into his hand. Your breathing is shaky and ragged, your breath hitching quietly each time he brushes his fingers against the angry, burning skin of your ass.
"I felt like it. Now stand up."
You instantly move to do as he says, shifting off his lap to stand just beside him. You watch as his hands move to his belt, the metal clinking together for a moment before he's undoing his trousers, shoving the fabric down to free his cock. You want nothing more than to drop to your knees, crawl under his desk, and keep him in your mouth until his reports are done.
Instead, he gestures for you to sit on his lap. Your breath hitches. A reward so soon after your punishment? You could cry.
You're quick to climb right into his lap, your arms draped across his shoulders as you hover just over the tip of his cock. His hand sneaks between the both of you, fingers wrapping around himself as he slides the tip right through your slick folds. You clench around nothing, so close and yet so far away, but you don't rush it.
You let him grind up into you, a quiet whimper leaving you every time he rubs against your clit. The anticipation is killing you, but you force yourself to stay still even as you tremble on top of him. Then he slides home. A shattered moan falls from your lips, your hips instinctively rocking into him. He's so deep, you swear you feel him in your belly.
But he doesn't continue. He doesn't fuck you like the world's ending. He doesn't even offer you his thumb against your clit. Instead, he clamps his hands on your hips, waiting until you look up at him with your needy little whine. The corners of his mouth twitch, smug and deeply entertained by your eagerness.
"You sit there, and you feel every inch of me, but you do not move. If I feel you so much as shift to try and get more comfortable, I'll put you back on my knee for another ten. Am I clear?" He commands. You want to argue, to test if he's serious, but the cold edge of his tone has you agreeing.
"Crystal clear."
"Be a good girl and let me finish this page." He says, giving your hips one last squeeze before his attention is back on his reports, his pen scratching at the paper every so often as he leaves small notes for himself to read later. You let out a soft sigh as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
You feel so full, so deliciously stretched, but it's not enough.
"You're so mean." You whine, hands tilting to find his hair. You don't pull, you simply twirl the strands around your fingers, trying to focus on anything other than how good his cock feels when it's buried deep in your cunt.
Zayne hums in acknowledgment, back to ignoring you.
This treatment feels like it goes on for hours, but in reality, it's nothing more than a few minutes. Finally, he's pushing his papers aside, the clatter of his pen against the wood instantly drawing your attention. You tilt your head to look up at him, a silent question in your gaze.
He answers by finding your hips with his hands, standing up, and pressing your back against the wood of his desk. Your legs instantly wrap around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as you look up at him. He moves to take his glasses off, setting them aside near the edge of the mahogany, before both palms are pressed against the wood on either side of your head.
"You've had a lot to say today. Now that you have my undivided attention, why don't you be very specific?" His hazel eyes drift down to your lips, jaw clenching as he rocks into you, slow and steady. Your nails find his shoulders as you arch up into him, the friction earning a quiet moan from you.
"Tell me exactly how you want it."
You swallow hard, your breath coming in shallow hitches. The sting on your ass is still humming, reigniting every time Zayne pushes deeper into you. For a moment, you can't think of how you want him to fuck you. All you know is that you want him. You need him.
"I want to feel... I want to feel how much I irritated you today." You manage to stutter out.
A smirk finally does appear on his lips and in that moment, you know you're going to be sore for days.
"Understood."
He doesn't give you a second to rethink your answer before he's moving. His cock slams deep into you, so deep you can feel it knock against your cervix, the dull ache mixing with the pleasure of his relentless pace. You cry out, your back arching off his desk as you claw at his shoulders, your thighs clamping around his waist.
His hips snap into yours, his balls slapping against your ass, the loud sound of skin on skin mirroring your punishment. The desk rattles underneath you, his abandoned pen rolling around before finally tumbling onto the ground. Zayne doesn't even blink. He simply brings his hand up to your shirt, easily undoing the buttons one by one until it falls open.
Bare underneath. You really had been waiting for him to fuck you.
He groans at the sight, long fingers instantly squeezing your breast while his head dips towards the other one. His teeth grazes your nipple before he draws you into his mouth, nipping and sucking at that hardened peak. You tremble underneath him, your moans tipping into loud sobs of pleasure as your hands finally find his hair.
You tug on the dark strands, a sharp cry echoing in his office as his fingers pinch at your other nipple, rolling it between his long fingers until you're squirming underneath him. He doesn't relent, just shifts his focus as his mouth moves to the swell of your breast, sucking a deep, dark bruise right into your skin.
His hand trails up your body again, long fingers wrapping around your throat and squeezing with just enough pressure to make your head swim. His other hand finds your hip, thumb digging a bruise into your skin as he pulls you onto his cock in time with his thrusts.
You clench around him, a shattered, broken moan leaving your lips as you fall apart around him. Your hips jerk against him as you writhe on top of his desk, but Zayne doesn't let up. He pins you down, his thrusts getting faster, harder, the snap of his hips against you making your ass sting all over again.
His breath hitches, his jaw clenched so hard he feels his teeth grind together as his movements falter. His thrusts grow sloppy, frantic, desperate to reach his own release. He's so close, so agonizingly close, and the moment your cunt clenches around him, he spills in you with a guttural groan.
His forehead presses against your shoulder, hand releasing your throat to cradle your cheek as his eyes squeeze shut. His entire body shudders, his breathing ragged and ruined. You let out a quiet whine before tilting your head into his hand, your own body sore and spent as you cling to him.
You're both quiet for a moment, too focused on breathing, too focused on the way his hips roll into yours like he's trying to force his cum deeper.
"Are you going to behave tomorrow?" He finally asks, his voice a broken rasp against your skin.
"No." You breathe in response.
He lets out an amused huff.
"Right. Then I suspect you are going to be extremely sore tomorrow."
It was a lazy Sunday in which your days off had finally aligned. Zayne wasn’t going to be called in and Jenna had practically begged you to take a break for your own health, so now you had the day all to yourselves. You stayed curled into zaynes side on the couch as you caught up about the little things you had experienced over the past few weeks. While you would text about it and talk a little at home, it was a bit hard with how busy you both were.
Somehow the conversation shifted to TMI things you knew about your coworkers bedroom lives. Things you had heard eavesdropping, or from Tara, who was even more of a gossip than you. Zayne would tsk and tell you it’s not any of your business and to respect their privacy. Despite this, he was still intently listening and asking about details. You knew deep down, he’s just as nosy as you are.
“Fucking 3 strangers in one night is actually crazy though, don’t you think? I mean, more power to him I guess, but that’s so much sweat and…fluids of people you barely know. I couldn’t understand, honestly.”
Zayne let out a quiet huff. “I wish the general populous were more worried about getting tests done before they engage in any sort of intimacy. It’s troubling that STD’s aren’t more of a concern.” You chuckled a little before speaking, “If I remember correctly, you didn’t have me take any sort of tests before the first time we made love…” You bit your lip, nudging him teasingly.
Zayne was unfazed. “I was willing to catch whatever disease you had.”
You gawked at him. “Zayne Li, that’s terrible!”
A small smirk then graced his lips. “I also have access to your medical records and would often request the labs to test you for a multitude of things, just to ensure you were healthy.” You blinked at him. “…is that…ethical?” Zayne only shrugged. “I don’t particularly care what’s ethical when it comes to your health.”
“…”
You only let out an amused hm before continuing your chat.
The sterile quiet of Zayne's office is broken by the soft vibration of his phone in his pocket.
He glances at the screen, the tension in his shoulders fading just a fraction when he sees your name. His lunch break had just started, nearly an hour before his next surgery. He'd planned to spend it reviewing paperwork and preparing for the next operation, but you were always a welcome distraction. He taps the screen before bringing his phone to his ear.
"I didn't expect a call this early." He says, his voice dropping into something softer and deeper. Something he reserved only for you. "Is everything alright?"
"I just wanted to say I love you... and ask about your day." You murmur, though you can't help the way your voice cracks. You were at home, tangled with your sheets, absolutely soaked for no reason. It wasn't fair. You needed him and he just wasn't there.
Zayne freezes, his pen hovering over a patient's chart. He's spent years training his ears to catch the slightest irregularity in a heartbeat or a breath, and right now, yours is a chaotic rhythm. You sound fragile, your lungs working too hard for someone sitting at home.
"My day is manageable." He replies slowly, narrowing his eyes as he leans back in his chair. "But you sound breathy. Have you been busy?"
"No. I've just... been around the house." You whisper.
"You sound like you've run a marathon." He counters, his tone shifting from casual to clinical, though a sliver of concern cuts through. "Your heart rate sounds elevated just from the way you're speaking. Do you have a fever?"
"I'm fine, Zayne. Really." But you aren't. Your tone is desperate, needy, pitched higher than usual. Through the phone, he can hear the rustle of sheets as you squirm around restlessly, the ache between your thighs far too much for you to handle.
Zayne hums in response, completely unconvinced. He glances at the little calendar on his desk, noting the little red star he'd written in. He knows your cycle better than you do. He always tracks the data, the symptoms, the biological shifts. He's so in tune with your body that he can tell where you are in your cycle purely off of how you smell.
"Your period is ten days away. You're ovulating."
That's the breaking point. A frustrated, jagged sob escapes your throat, sounding so raw it makes his hand tighten around his phone. You're so stupidly horny that all you can focus on is him. You need him. You need his fingers, his mouth... his cock stretching you open.
"I tried everything. I took a cold shower, I tried to do chores. I used... I used my own damn fingers, Zayne. Nothing is working. It's not enough. It's not you." You cry out, squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to try and alleviate that deep, needy ache.
Zayne's breath hitches, which only earns a quiet whimper from you. The thought of you at home, flushed and desperate, driven to tears by a biological ache only he is allowed to soothe, drives every professional thought from his mind. He imagines how wet you must be, how your cunt is likely clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.
His cock throbs in his trousers. He stands abruptly, crossing his office to the heavy wooden door. The click of the lock is loud in the silence, loud enough for you to hear on your end.
"Zayne?" You whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. You hear the rustle of his white doctor's coat, the way he lets out a slow, controlled breath.
"If it's me you want, then you're going to listen very closely to what I tell you to do next."
That immediately grabs your attention. You pull your phone away from your ear with a confused whimper, as if double checking that you did indeed call Zayne. It's unlike him to indulge in your needs while he's at work, but you are in no place to argue.
"Are you sure?" You ask him softly, your breath hitching quietly.
"I am entirely sure." Zayne mumurs, the sheer weight of his devotion heavy in his voice. There's no judgement. No annoyance. Only a deep, vibrating promise to give you exactly what you've been crying for. He sits back in his chair, his free hand coming up to remove his glasses. You hear the soft clatter as they hit the edge of his desk, then the soft rustle of fabric as he undoes the buttons of his jacket.
"Put me on speaker, sweetheart. I want your hands free."
You obey instantly, your hands trembling as you set your phone down on your pillow right next to your head. The distance between his Asko Hospital office and your bedroom feels like it's shrinking, and for a split second, you're so delirious with need that you can almost feel his gaze on you.
"Good girl." He praises, the words a warm caress that has you squirming against your sheets. "Now, lie back. Spread your legs for me, just as if I were there kneeling before you." Through the phone, he can hear you shifting around. The mental image of you spread and wanting has a low groan leaving him.
"Close your eyes. Visualize my hands." He continues, his own breath hitching quietly as his free hand moves to his trousers. You can hear the metal click of his belt as he undoes it, the quiet hiss of his zipper. "Two fingers. Touch yourself for me. Slowly. Your clit is aching so much, isn't it?"
You slide a hand down your body, dipping right between your thighs, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat as your fingers find your swollen clit. rubbing slow, light circles into that sensitive peak. Your hips buck against your hand, quiet, needy moans leaving you. It's so good, so much better than when you had been touching yourself without the sound of his voice.
Zayne's focus is fully directed towards you, long fingers of his free hand wrapping around his fat cock. Outside his office, he can hear the rustle of carts, nurses speaking to each other, but he doesn't care. You're his biggest distraction, one that he wouldn't change for the world. He strokes himself in time with your heavy breathing, his eyes momentarily closing as he imagines you obeying his commands.
"S'not enough, Zayne... More... Need more." You beg him, your voice a desperate, breathy whine that has his own breath leaving him in a rush.
"Push your fingers inside. Tell me how wet you are. Tell me how easily you stretch yourself open for me." He commands, his knuckles white as he grips his phone. His thumb brushes along the tip of his cock, smearing precum down the length of him as he strokes himself.
You're quick to do as he commands, sliding your fingers through your slick folds until they're soaked before slowly, you push into your cunt. It's not nearly the same as when he fingers you, not the same initial stretch, but it works just fine for you now that you can hear him on the other end of the phone.
"Fuck, Zayne... M'soaked." You tell him. Your velvety walls clench around your own fingers as you push deeper, grinding against the heel of your hand. It's almost too much for you to handle. Your free hand grasps the sheets, your head tilted towards your phone to ensure he can hear just how good you feel.
In his office, Zayne tilts his head back against his chair, his breath coming in short, heavy pants. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers as you pump them into your needy little cunt, the pathetic, desperate edge your moans have taken on. He knows the signs. You're close.
He wonders if you got yourself close before you decided to dial his number. A shudder runs through his body at the thought.
"When I get home, I'm going to stay so deep inside you that you won't even remember your own name." He says, his voice low, ruined, his own release sneaking up quickly. "I'll fuck you all night if that's what you need, sweetheart. Until you're so full of me that I drip out of you for days. Is that what you want?"
"Zayneee... M'gonnacumsohard, fuck-" His filthy tone has your body tensing, a loud, shattered cry leaving your mouth as you fall apart around your fingers. You squirm, your head thrashing against your pillows. Through your phone, you can hear Zayne let out a muffled groan, his breathing frantic before a ragged gasp leaves him.
You're both quiet for a long moment, breathing heavy, slowly trying to come down from the high your body had demanded. You slowly withdraw your fingers with a quiet, shaky sigh, your entire body limp against the sheets. You can picture him in your mind, the calm Doctor Zayne so undone and messy simply because you'd called.
The thought has a satisfied hum coming from you.
Zayne is the first to move. You hear the rustle of paper towels as he cleans himself up, the soft hitch of his breath as he tucks his cock back into his trousers, then the jingle of his belt being fixed.
"I expect you to be waiting for me just like that when I walk through the door. Don't move too much." He says, his voice impossibly soft and affectionate.
"I will." You whisper in response, rolling over onto your side as if being closer to the phone might help you to feel closer to him.
"I have a consult in ten minutes." He murmurs. "I love you. See you soon, sweetheart."
Then the line clicks dead, leaving you flushed and counting down the seconds until his shift ends.
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