📬Join me while I create love and deep delusion, the off brand version of the very famous and currently unprofessional and problematic Infold game known as Love and Deepspace ✍️ #BRINGBACKVALCO
🔍As you can see, it’s very empty in here. Cob webs everywhere. Hopefully that will change as time passes🕰️
Thank you for reading 📖🫂
Also, please be nice. I’m literally just a loser so I’ll do you a favor and save you the energy of insulting me. You’re welcome!!!
🔗Tumblr’s Significant Lover A03 Link🔗
****LINKS BELOW ARE A03 LINKS BTW***
Xavier 💫
Zayne☃️
Rafayel 🐡
🏫❤️🎨Roommate (ongoing)
Alternate universe in which you and Rafayel are roommates for your last year of college. You two have only known each other since the beginning of the semester, and you mesh well enough to get along and share the same space. By no means do you really consider you and Rafayel 'friends', though. However, as time passes and graduation approaches, you find yourself thinking about him more and more. Little do you know, Rafayel has feelings of his own blossoming.
This contains smut (minors, do not read. Go do your god damn homework and make better choices.)
Sylus🐦⬛
🌹🏡❤️I want you to stay (Ongoing)
She and Sylus are in a precarious relationship. He is the leader of Onychinous, an entire crime operative, and she isn't, which makes for a dysfunctional dynamic. It wasn't always this way, but as the tensions of his world rise, they see one another less and less, which makes saying good bye even harder. Love begins to devour itself the longer it longs. The pain of carrying an unfulfilled heart . . . The pain of not having a place to put love. . . What do you do when you're hurting, when you miss someone, but you don't want to give up? Sometimes, the right thing to do is the hardest.
I want you to stay
I want to keep you safe
I want what I can't have
🐉🐦⬛👑 Abysmal Prologue (ongoing)
The war between humans and dragons has been waged for centuries now. Instigated by the dragons, a god suffered the loss of her worshipers, her land, and her power. In retaliation, she prophesied that the dragons would bring up on the end times if the humans did not bring out their extinction. Sylus, the prince of dragons, must prove stronger than the king in order to assume the throne. The war is proving to be a problem in achieving this goal, so he confronts and makes a deal with the very god that established this very war. Now, he must find the prophesied fiend that will bring about the end times and return the god’s power to her. Sylus, however, has his own plans in mind for this dragon, who is imbued with so much power that would make the most influential kings bend at the knee.
A story of power, violence, war, sacrifice, greed, fate, and perhaps romance in a loveless place.
Caleb🎇
If We Only Have This Summer
• Caleb is your brother’s best friend, and ya know, things get steamy on the couch
Ah shit, here we go again. Here's chapter 2, pookies. Sorry for typos ok. I was doing my best. Minors DNI.
The stuff: cute, sweet, loving Caleb turns feral sex god, cream pie, prone-bone, lowk anilingus, dirty talk, mentions of voyeurism, rules and regulations established; get to know the OC, pining and longing, the kind that comes with compromising your feelings for a crush….
(The way I’m listing the events of this chapter as if it’s a erotic audio on Reddit lmfao)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
The guys were gone by the time I woke up with a headache the next afternoon. Staying up late to sleep with your brother’s best friend will do that to you. I turned over and stared at the ceiling while the memories flooded in.
His lips against mine.
Our hands exploring uncharted lands.
The words exchanged.
The expression of lust.
Guilt sagged in my chest. We’re all adults, but that doesn’t remove the unspoken relationship boundaries we clearly crossed. Neal could not find out, but that didn’t mean it had to stop, against my better judgement. I never thought Caleb would be into me in any way, even if I day dreamed about it every so often or longed for him to stay in a room a little longer. I didn’t want to stop if Caleb was serious about making this a habit. But men say a lot of things they don’t mean, whether it be during sex or when they want it, and maybe this is where it ended, which sucked to think about . . . It reminded me too much of the past year with the noncommittal guys I was into, but they weren’t into me. Not beyond sex or curing their boredom. So if that’s all Caleb wanted from me, it wouldn't be my first rodeo. I could handle it.
I tried to keep Caleb a distant thought in my mind when I settled later at my desk. I put in my ear buds and marked down all my assignment due dates in my calendar. My first day of summer classes started tomorrow, and I am on track to graduate early, but it was at the expense of a school-free summer. It wasn’t all a drag though. My best friend was home too so that meant nights at her house watching reality tv while doing a craft, or heading up to the city for a day. There were fairs to attend, family-friend pool parties to throw, barbeques, the usual summer agenda.
And then there was Caleb.
There was always Caleb and my silly, distant affections that never went anywhere. Until now.
Neal didn’t end up coming home at all on Sunday, but his public stories were mainly of him hung over on a golf cart, then they ended up at a bar. Who knows where he crashed for the night. The only real proof of life I had was when he walked into the kitchen the next morning while I listened to a zoom lecture at the island.
He unpackaged a brown paper bag, revealing an everything bagel slathered in cream cheese. He pulled out another one and slid it across the table.
“Is this a bribe?”
He said nothing, then threw his garbage away before sitting next to me at the island, just munching away and scrolling on his phone. I tuned back into my lecture and ate alongside him. Neal wasn’t particularly vocal about his love, but he showed it in his own ways.
My phone pinged, and I nearly choked. It was a social media dm from Caleb. My stomach dropped. Neal didn’t look over as I opened the message.
Hey, I realized I don’t have your number lol
There was never a reason for him to have it, even if Caleb and Neal were best friends. Even if our families knew each other well and consistently celebrated holidays and had barbeques with each other. There was never ever a reason for me and Caleb to talk to each other privately.
Oh, haha. Here you go, I replied.
I set my phone down a little too hard face down.
“Who’s pissing you off?” Neal asked, then stood up from his chair.
Then it pinged again.
“No one,” I said coolly.
Only when he left the kitchen did I lift my phone back up. An unknown number. It was a picture of the nose of a plane captioned with guess who.
I looked over my shoulder to make sure he was really gone before replying.
Me: I thought you were done for the summer?
Caleb: Doin’ mandatory training hours :p
Me: is it fun at least?
He sent a photo of him covered in oil.
Caleb: send reinforcements
Me: LOL sorry my degree is in pharmacology
Caleb: you’ll have to tell me about it.
“It’s nice to see you smile, Sophie.”
My mom’s voice snapped me back to reality.
“Nothing! Noelle was just telling me a funny story.”
“Okay?” she chuckled.
The texting was sporadic throughout the rest of the day, and I thought about what I could text him about tomorrow. But he initiated the conversations first thing in the morning for the rest of the week. Pictures of him in bed with his dog. His protein shakes and breakfast. More plane content. I was seeing so much of Caleb that I had only heard about through the grapevine or through context clues. I was too nervous to ask to hang out or to see him again . . . it felt too embarrassing, like I was walking on stage and expecting everyone to boo. He also wasn’t asking me, either, so maybe he was hoping I’d make the first move. Neither of us initiated anything other than normal, casual conversation, which was pleasant. Although, I worried about boring him. Or being more into this than him.
Friday night rolled around, and as I brushed my teeth and prepared for bed, I looked at my phone.
Caleb: do you wanna come over
My tooth brush hung out of my mouth. The hook I had been waiting for snagged me by the lip.
I’d been to Caleb’s plenty. Our families have spent countless holidays and parties between our houses. However, I’ve never gone alone. Or been in his room. Neal would shut the door in my face and tell me to go hang out with Mackenzie, Caleb’s sister, and we wouldn’t see them for most of the night.
I wanted to go so badly, but the nerves started to bundle in my stomach.
Me: yes
I lied to my mom and said I was going to Noelle’s, who would approve and encourage this type of behavior. I needed to tell her about Caleb soon. Necessary debrief. I had a white knuckle grip the entire way to his house, and I tried to park inconspicuously on the street. All of the lights are off in his home, save for a warm glow from the windows of his garage.
Me: Here
Caleb: okay so you’re gonna go up the steps on the side of the garage.
I get out of my car and try to shut the door quietly. I listened to his instructions, and he waved to me from the door at the top of the steps. The wood creaked beneath my shoes, and I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hi, come in,” he greeted, then gave me a hug.
I wasn’t prepared for that. We had never hugged before. I smiled and cleared my throat after we separated. The weight and warmth of his body lingered as I glanced around the studio apartment built above the garage. It’s fashioned with a kitchen, a living room, and his full size bed sits wedged in the corner.
“I didn’t know this was up here,” I said while slipping my shoes off.
“Yeah, I was kind of out growing my bedroom in the house, so I worked with the old man to fix all this up.”
“Lucky,” I said while noodling around and observing his pilot-coded decor. “You have your own little private space away from everybody.”
“Yes,” he said, then lounged on the couch. “I’m sure sharing the same space with Neal is suffocating.”
“You have no idea,” I said, then joined him.
A variety of snacks and drinks sat sprawled on the coffee table.
“I realized I don’t really know what you like so I kind of picked things based on what I’ve randomly seen you snack on before,” he said. “If you don’t like these we can always go get something, too.”
My heart fluttered at his effort.
“These are all wonderful guesses,” I reassured. “You’re a good host.”
He looked relieved, like it was a serious thing he wanted to get right. I picked up a bag of niche candy.
“Wow, I haven’t had these since I was a freshman in high school. I ate too many and got so sick.”
“You better not eat those then.”
I pulled open the bag and unraveled a piece. “I think it’s been long enough.” They’re as good as I remembered, but I know better than to eat the whole bag. “Thank you.”
He nudged his knee into mine and smiled. “Thank you for coming over.”
In the time I took to finish chewing, I gathered my thoughts. “I was kind of shocked you asked. I wasn’t really sure if this was going to extend beyond the other night.”
He nodded. “I’m not the one night stand type. I want to get to know you and spend time with you, even if there’s no sex involved. I just . . .” He scratched the back of his neck. “Got so ahead of myself. I hope you can forgive me if all of that made me come off as some kind of piece of shit fuck boy.”
I reached for his arm. “No,” I assured. “You’re fine. I think after being intimate like that there is that concern. . . I don’t want to get hurt, and I just—I want to make all of this as clear as possible. If we’re going to just sleep with each other, then we need to establish boundaries and ground rules.”
He nodded and pursed his lips. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Anything else might risk hurting each other or be too complicated.”
It felt wrong agreeing to do this knowing how I really felt about him, and getting to know him will only make this worse. I saw the almost certain devastating ending unfolding before me. I could handle it.
“Exactly.”
After we closed the heavy conversation and discussed necessary topics involving this, we decided on a scary movie and grew progressively closer on the couch. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and I leaned into his warmth. I glanced up occasionally to find him squinting to brace for the jump scares. I really was paying attention to the movie, but anticipation stirred, waiting for something between us to happen.
He yawned as the credits rolled. “Not even that scary.”
“You were pretty jumpy.”
“Shh. I try to be brave.”
I chuckled and admired his beautiful face from our close proximity.
“You can stay the night,” he said. “I’ll even take the couch.”
It was pretty late, and if I was going to tell a lie, I might as well make it worth it.
“I’m okay on the couch.”
He sighed. “I guess we’re both sleeping on the couch.”
“I’m okay with sharing the bed, Caleb.”
He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. He nuzzled his head into my hair. “I knew I could rely on you to have great ideas. I bet you’re so comfy.”
A calm quiet settled between us as we adjusted into each other on the couch. His hands felt so nice on my waist, his thumb caressing back and forth, and his chest was so warm against my back. It was a comforting contrast to his arctic A/C.
“Would you want to . . . You know,” he said. “We don’t have to.”
“I was wondering when you’d ask.”
He let out a breathy, embarrassed laugh. “Well, I wanted, ya know, for us to spend time together outside of all of that. I-I’ll be sure to interrupt our movie next time.”
I shook my head at his exasperation. I kissed his cheek. He stopped me from getting too far away from him and pressed his lips to mine. He tasted like sour candy and his half finished sweet tea.
“Do you remember what I said?” He asked between kisses.
“About what?” I managed.
“When you wanted to be loud so badly?” He said almost condescendingly.
“Yes,” I breathed, my cheeks growing hot under his hungry gaze.
It’s like a switch goes off in his brain. One moment he’s a sweet, cute, gentleman, then the next he’s a bold, humiliating, dominator who knows all the right words to make me puddy in his hands. Maybe it’s the effort. Maybe it’s the participation.
He smirked. “Make me proud.”
He picked me up from the couch and I yelped as he hauled me over to his bed. He tossed me down and gestured to me to roll on my stomach. My face pressed into his sheets that smelled like his cologne. He straddled my legs and slipped his hands beneath my shirt. His lips found my neck and his kisses sent shivers across my skin. He sat up and slipped my shorts down my legs.
He trailed his fingertips over my ass before squeezing. “I’ve only ever seen your ass in bikinis,” he said, his voice low and compelled. “You made it really hard to focus on water polo when it was time to flip your tan.” He kissed and licked my cheeks, which made my skin tickle and tingle. “I always wondered if you’d let me eat it from behind if I just asked politely.”
I gripped the sheets. “Caleb,” I said, somewhere between embarrassed and dazed.
He chuckled, then swiped his tongue over my panties. “Does this hole like attention, too?”
I moaned as his tongue traced over my ass. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
His tongue continued, darting into my hole through my panties. I couldn’t tell him to stop. It felt good in a way I was too nervous to ask anyone to do. But he’s just doing it. Encouraging it.
He slipped my panties aside then. “Fuck,” he groaned. He positioned himself over me, his hand next to my head, and his other sinking his fingers into my pussy. “So wet and tight, huh?”
His hot breath brushed over my hair, and I whimpered as his fingers thrusted deep inside me. “Yeah, that’s right,” he whispered in my ear, “buck back onto my fingers, love. Get me nice and deep.”
Sloppy wet squelching filled the room. My hips dug into the mattress to create friction on my clit. “Wanna cum now? I’ll let you. Help me remember how pretty you look cumming on my fingers.”
I nodded profusely, and he slipped his hand to my aching bud. His mouth sucked and kissed on my neck again. The feeling built, and I grinded harder against his fingers.
“Good girl. Yes, let me hear you.”
Euphoria hit me like a wave and it slammed against me over and over again. My pussy gripped around his fingers. Pleasant exhaustion washed over me.
He kissed my cheek and coaxed me down the hill of my high. I heard the rustling of his clothes from behind me, then his knees dipping back onto the mattress. He nudged my hips up with his hands, my body rising to just my knees.
His tip pressed against my sensitive slit. “May I, pretty?”
I nodded with my face buried into his bedding.
He massaged my hips and drew them back onto his cock. The bedding absorbed my shameless sounds, and he took a sharp breath. He stretched me open and filled every inch of me, eventually bottoming out. My nerves buzzed. My body carried hints of my high and he brushed against them as he found his pace. His hands wandered over my back as he bucked his hips into me, deeply, hitting the right spot repeatedly.
He pulled me up to his chest carefully by my hair without missing a beat. “I can’t hear you with your face buried in the mattress, sweetheart.”
When I met his gaze, it was soft, hazy, in a trance, as pleasure soothed and undid him. He kissed me hard, and the new angle made me grind back into him harder. Our tongues met once again. This was nothing short of consumption.
“C-Can I cum in you?” He begged, his lips kissing up and down my neck. His nose nuzzled against my ear. “Please. I just wanna see what my cum looks like dripping out of your pussy.”
I nodded lazily. His hips sped up, and I squeaked at the sudden pace. His hand slid up my throat and tilted my head back. His hand rested at my jaw.
“I bet you’ve never let anyone fill you up before, huh? But I’m not just anyone, right? I’m your Caleb. Only I’m allowed.”
“Caleb,” I repeated, pleaded, but I’m not sure for what. My cheeks filled with burning heat.
He chuckled. “You know, this reminds me of a memory I have of you.”
“W-What memory?”
“When I caught you touching yourself in the pool shed last summer.”
I tensed up immediately. “You saw that?”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was so hot watching you grind one out against a pool float. Tits out. Moaning like a slut. It was my first memory of you that I had all to myself, a secret, something I didn’t have to share. All mine.”
He slid my clit between his fingers, and I clenched around him as he pulled another orgasm from me. He followed moments after. Body stuttering. Breath ragged. Groans bordering on whimpers emitted from his throat. His arms held me flush to him as he remained deep inside of me. I stroked his arms and caressed him through it.
He kissed my shoulder, then slowly slipped out of me. He repeated ‘towel’ a number of times while searching for one while I stood on my knees trying not to make any sudden movements. I sat down on the towel once he brought it over.
“I can’t believe you saw me do that.”
I wanted to feel humiliated about it, but it wouldn’t do any good. He saw me. I’m in his bed now. There wasn’t any room for it.
“Truth be told, it was an accident, but it felt like a waste not to watch.”
“I was probably thinking of you,” I admitted, just to see what he’d say. Post-coitus boldness. “You probably said a few sweet words in passing, and I just had to rub one out.”
The corner of his lip curled. “Oh, so you think about me when you touch yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“I think I’m entitled to see those sessions going forward if I’m the main character in your sex fantasies.”
“Well, the same rules apply then.”
He slid on top of me then, his semi-hard cock pressing against my clit. I involuntarily rolled into him.
“I’d rather just have you,” he whispered against my lips before kissing me sweetly. “Yeah. Just you.”
I woke up the next morning unraveled from the cuddling position we fell asleep in. He was on his back, his head turned away from me. His bare chest rose and fell, and he looked so at peace. I had never slept so well next to a guy. I always had a hard time getting comfortable and always felt alert. Here though, I felt disarmed, unhurried, like this was a safe place to breathe. When I walked out the door though, this feeling would only be allowed to exist here.
He shifted then, his arms pulling me back into him. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered into my hair.
“How did you know I was awake?”
“Your breathing changed.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“School broke my internal clock so I’m always up earlier than I want to be.”
He kissed my head, and I blushed.
“I’ll make you breakfast in a little bit.”
- - - — —- — — -
“So, do you and the guys have plans tonight?” I asked after taking a swig of my coffee.
“I think we’re just swimming and chilling at your house,” he said while scrambling the eggs with a spatula in one hand, and shaking his protein shake in the other. “It gets so cramped sleeping in Neal’s room.”
He looked over at me then with expectant eyes.
“What if we get caught?”
“What if we don’t,” he said. “Besides, I wake up at the crack of dawn so I’d slip back into the room before they even noticed I was gone.”
I rolled it around in my mind. It was risky, but not as risky as us having sex on the living room couch. “All right, fine.”
He looked pleased, then plated the eggs before setting them before me. He chugged his shake before offering it to me.
“What flavor is it today?”
“Peanut butter.”
It was grainy and not cold enough.
“I’ll stick to my coffee.”
I arrived home and my brows furrowed upon seeing my best friend's car in my driveway. I kicked myself immediately for not keeping her in the loop about last night considering I was supposed to be with her. Showing up to my house unannounced wasn’t uncommon for Noelle, but what inconvenient timing. I hoped and prayed she didn't run into anyone because my mom would have a lot of questions. . . . . .
----
I felt real diabolical and unapologetic writing this lmfao oh well. Hope you enjoyed!
For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
goddess, the notes on this are actually insane. thank you? genuinely? i don’t know what to say, except that i am now terrified of ever writing again because what if the next one is shit and this was my one divine accident loooool
I posted this on AO3 but decided to post it here too lmfao. I might turn this into a series lol I’m lowkey curious.
POV: your brother’s best friend is home for the summer and he plows you into the couch
The stuff: cute sweet. flirting. crush. making out. couch sex. hold the moan. cunnilingus. Caleb lowkey mean for 2 seconds but it’s not like bad mean it’s hot mean lmfao. Minors DNI.
🍎🍎🍎
Mom:
Can you tell your brother to keep it down?
to Neal:
Can you shut up already?
A boisterous rejoice, louder than the others, echoed throughout the house. Through my ear buds even. He wasn’t reading that text any time soon.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I grumbled, heaving off my warm blankets.
To think my first weekend back home for summer break would be quiet. How stupid of me.
I flung open his door, the knob hitting against the growing hole in the wall. My nose scrunched at the smell of cold Mexican food and sweat. He and his friends are shirtless, save for one, as they cream their drawers over some football video game.
“Hey,” I shouted, and I approach the locked in bozos with crossed arms. “If you wanna be loud as fuck, why don’t you go outside and play actual football? It might justify how nasty you all are.”
“Bro, get out,” my brother said without looking at me, his thumbs noodling the character around the screen with the joysticks.
“Mom said to be quiet. Aren’t you a bit old to be acting like a teenager?”
He ignored me. Typical. Mom really needed to let go of the hope of him ever listening to me.
Caleb, the only one clothed and not drenched, looked up from his phone, our eyes meeting for just a moment. “Our ride is here.”
“What?!” My brother said, pausing the game and fumbling for a shirt. The others followed his lead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I did.” Caleb raised his hands in defense. “You said one more round.”
Neal glared at me. “Dude, get out already.”
“Gladly,” I grumbled.
I nestled back into bed with my fanfiction, but I couldn’t focus. I haven’t seen much of Caleb since school started. Now that the year was over, he’d be here almost every day with Neal and the boys. And that subtle glance from his radiant violet eyes was just the beginning of my crush that revives every summer without fail. He’s always Caleb, but bigger, smarter, cuter in some way. He’s out there developing his character and I just can’t help myself. Whenever he messed with me or talked to me, it satisfied some greedy part of me that wanted his attention. Maybe I’d stand just a little too close on purpose, all the while acting natural. Like I’m just one of the guys. I rolled my eyes. Look who’s being the teenager now.
They stomped a short time later down the hall, and a knock drew me begrudgingly away from my story.
“Yes?”
Caleb’s brown haired head and million dollar smile peaked through the crack. “Should be quieter now.”
“Stay safe,” I said.
I woke from my phone ringing from some distant place. The floor. Neal’s number appeared as a small tab over the fanfic I was reading.
“Hello?” I yawned.
“Hey, it’s Caleb,” the voice on the other end said. I sat straight up in bed, suddenly very awake. “I hate to ask . . . But could ya get the front door?”
I hustled down the stairs, opened the door, and found Caleb hauling Neal. His other friends stood behind them, dazed, half-lidded, trying to remain upright.
“Hi,” Caleb whispered, then thanked me profusely.
I gaped at how delirious Neal was and threw his arm around my shoulder.
“What the fuck, Neal?” I scolded under my breath.
“I’m gonna puke if you keep talking,” he gagged.
“Mom is going to kill you if you throw up on her rug.”
Caleb and I managed to get them all upstairs and into bed. Thankfully, our mom didn’t come busting out of her room with an unforgiving dialogue.
Caleb closed the door behind him and only then did we relax our shoulders.
“They should really compensate you for how much you put up with," I joke. "Are you heading home?"
“We have golf in like 6 hours, so I’ll just crash on the couch. Are the pillows and blankets still in the armoire?”
I went downstairs with him to be sure, and I pulled out a fluffy blanket and a pillow. I tossed them on the sofa. “Gulf with three hung over guys? Sounds more like babysitting.”
He shrugged as he assembled his bed for the evening “Worth it. Last year your brother tipped over the golf cart cause he took a turn too sharp.”
I gasped. “Neal never told me that.”
I could picture him sun burnt to a crisp, drunk as hell, doing donuts in the grass before wiping out.
“Are you sure you’re okay sleeping on the couch?”
“Yeah,” he said as he slipped out of his shoes. “It beats sleeping in a bunk for 9 months.”
I nodded and walked into the kitchen to get the boys water. Passing back through, I found Caleb pulling off his t-shirt, every muscle in his back flexing against his skin. All of his military training was engraved into his muscles. He grew a lot, especially in the past year. I believed it when I heard Neal tell mom he was going to start as a higher ranked pilot in the fleet.
I set the bottle on the side table. “Night,” I said, acting cool and nonchalant.
“Wait,” he said unexpectedly.
I glanced back, his bare chest and abs on display. I’ve seen him half-clothed plenty of times from the years of Neal’s pool parties, so it wasn’t particularly weird but. . .
“I-I’ll bring those up,” he said, circling around the couch and snagging them from me. “Stay put for a second.”
Before I can say anything, he’s already gone with the water. I leaned against the back of the couch, a sudden anchor weighing in my stomach. Stay put. Why would he ask me to stay put? And why am I listening? Well, I’m interested, as Caleb’s never really asked me to hang around. . .Maybe there’s drama between him and the guys, or him and Neal.
He returned shortly after. Still shirtless and clad in his denim jeans with a leather belt stationed around his hips. His hair looked run through like he’d been fiddling with it all night.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is there something going on with Neal?”
He scratched the back of his neck, his bicep arching . “No. I-uhm-“
A flush appeared under his cheeks, a rarity. Caleb was the definition of cool and collected even when he’s being goofy and playful. He’s always in control.
I furrowed my brows. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head, as he seemingly reached some conclusion in his mind. “Never mind. Sorry.”
The anticipation tied itself in knots inside my chest, and it was itching to unravel. “Well, you’ve come this far, so I’m sure you can tell me.”
“It’s so pathetic,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “And desperate.”
I offered him an encouraging smile.“What is?”
He bit his lip, his eyes looking everywhere but me. “It’s been a long year, and I uhm-“ he shrugged. “I-well-oh my god. . . I’ve known you for so long, and I think you’re so fuckin’ pretty . . . And I don’t even know if you’re attracted to me so I shouldn’t even be saying anything. . .”
My eyes widened. That was definitely not what I was expecting him to say. What was happening. . . Caleb just called me pretty, while shirtless and flushing like a nervous wreck.
“Oh gosh,” I muttered.
He looked up then, his face still so red with embarrassment.
“This can’t be the first time you’ve admitted this type of stuff to a girl before.”
“Well, no. I’m just bad at it. . .”
I can’t help but laugh. “This is adorable.” I gestured to him while looking away. “And how couldn’t I be attracted to you?”
“Really?”
I rolled my eyes at his density. “You own a mirror.”
“Not that scrawny dweeb anymore, huh.”
“I liked him, too.”
“So, uhm,” he started again, then gulped. “Neal would kill me if he knew I admitted all this.
“Probably.”
He moved a bit closer, then drew his eyes away again like I was some kind of sin, and he was ashamed. “Would it be, I don’t know, totally asinine if I said I wanted to kiss you?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Caleb, Neal’s best friend and most attractive and sweet and gentle one at that, wanted to kiss me.
“Y-Yeah,” I mumbled. “It would be.”
“I’m a coward, and I’m stupid.” He slid his hands through mine. “Is this okay?”
His warm breath fell over my face. He had never been so close before. I could see details I never had. I nodded.
I closed my eyes as he leaned in, each breath a second away from fusing completely. Instead of landing on my lips, he kissed my cheek. Then my jaw bone, then my chin, to the corner of my mouth. His lips captured mine with sweet sincerity. He sighed, nothing short of a stifled moan.
There was no way this was happening, but it was. In any of the times I imagined kissing Caleb, the reality was exponentially greater. He pulled away but lingered close, his gaze holding mine. It was so intimidating being looked at by someone so beautiful.
I gulped then. “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
“I don’t need liquid courage.”
“I mean, you looked like you were struggling a little to get the words out.”
“Oh, you shush,” he whispered against my cheek, then left a soft nibble on the skin there. “The academy made me rusty with all that discipline.”
He kissed me again, which then led to making out on the couch. Somehow, I ended up in his lap. . . Our hands couldn’t stop exploring, and our hips found themselves grinding against each other. His cock grew hard beneath his jeans and rubbed against the thin fabric of my shorts.
I got brave and slid my hand down his waist to fiddle with his belt. He watched me undo the buckle, then the button and the zipper, until he’s left in nothing but his briefs. His fingers traced the hem of my shorts and slid them off before I sat back onto his lap. He squeezed my ass between his massive palms and ground me harder into him. Our lips devoured one another. Cheeks red. Mouths panting and stifling moans.
He looked at me while he moved his hand between my legs. He slipped his fingers beneath my panties and traced my wet, aching pussy with teasing fingers.
“Caleb,” I breathe.
He nodded. “Mm-hm. You want it?”
“Yes.”
He flipped us over, my back flush to the couch as he hovered over me.
“W-We could go to my room.”
“That’s even closer to everyone else.”
He lifted up my shirt, revealing my breasts. He trailed his fingers over my stomach and up to my chest before circling my nipples and squeezing my breasts. He pulled his boxers down, finally, revealing his heavy, thick dick.
My hands slid up his waist, over his hard abs and pecs, and I pulled him closer to me. He kissed up my neck and tangled one of his hands in my hair. His cock nudged against my panties.
“Caleb, hurry,” I breathed. “I don’t wanna have to stop if we get caught.”
“Okay, okay. Just trying to savor the moment.”
He pushed my panties to the side and gently pressed his cock into me. He took a sharp breath as he pressed his tip in and out of me, coaxing out wet sounds.
“Fuck, you are so ready for me. Can’t rush this part, baby.”
He slid himself the rest of the way in once he worked me open, and I struggled to bite back the moan from him filling me up. His lips found mine again as he finds his pace somewhere between hard, fast, and just fucking right. My mouth fell open, completely forgetting (or just forgetting to care) that this is risky, and moans tumbled out.
He placed his hand over my mouth. “As much as I wanna hear you moan for me, you need to shut the fuck up,” he whispered, the mean words making me tingle. He squeezed his eyes shut and a low growl rumbled from the pit of his chest. “God damn.”
He angled his hips and he thrusted diligently into a sweet spot. Hand hand absorbed my moans, but not the whimpers slipping through my throat.
“Do you let those pathetic college fuck boys touch you like this?” He cooed in my ear, his voice rising with condescension. “Huh?”
He looked at me with a devious expression. “I’ll tell ya what. I’ve decided you’re mine all fucking summer. I’m gonna pound your pretty pussy whenever, wherever, however you want, and I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard that you won’t want anyone touching you but me. I’ll send you back to school properly fucked and owned, right?”
Delirious and fuzzy brained, I nodded.
“Good girl.”
His hand lifted from my mouth, the air cool greeting my hot face.
“Where do you want me, princess?” He moaned against my lips. “I’m so close. It’s all yours, baby. You earned it.”
“S-Stomach,” I breathed.
His thrusts quickened as his cock grew harder, his thrusts deeper. He caught my lips with his and buried his moans in my mouth as his hips stuttered. He slipped out and stroked his cock, his cum spurting onto my stomach. I watched as pleasure writhed through him. His jaw went slack, and his brows knitted together. His abs flexed tightly as he trembled.
He caught his breath. “Fuck.”
He looked at the pools of cum roped across my stomach, almost proud. He smiled, then stifled a series of chuckles as cloud 9 floated over him.
He snaked his way down my body. Cold lips sent shivers across my hot skin.
I grab for his hair. “Oh, you don’t have to-“
He stops immediately and looks up at me as if I’m insane. “I will and I’m going to.”
“I mean, it just usually takes me a minute to get there from oral.”
“Good thing I love to eat it.”
His lips landed gently on my clit, and I held in a moan. His fingers slipped inside of me with ease.
“I usually do this in the reverse order,” he said. His tongue licked and circled my clit. “But now you’re extra ready to cum.”
The hum of his words sent tingles down my spine and between my legs.
“Caleb,” I moaned lightly as that familiar feeling built.
He groaned, and his tongue worked faster. My hands reached for his hair and I ground my hips into his tongue.
“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on my face.”
He sucked on my clit and pulled it between his lips. The feeling peaked and snapped hard as pleasure washed over me. Heavy pants left my lips as I tried to keep quiet. He held me in place, coaxing me through it. It took everything in me not to moan his name over and over again.
His hands caressed my body as if to settle the landscape of excited nerves. He kissed back up my body and met my lips. Deep, sincere, slow, the eagerness faded.
“Next time,” he said, hovering above me. “We’re going to my place. I wanna hear you moan my name some more. And not quietly.”
Next time.
Birds started to chirp outside the living room window. It was still dark, but the sun was coming, and this would dissolve with it. Sleepiness pressed against my eyes.
“Do you really want to . . . You know. . . Make this a habit all summer?”
“Now that I’ve had you, it’s gonna be real hard to keep my hands to myself.”
“Neal will kill you.”
“Fuck Neal.”
“I mean, you could sleep with someone less problematic . . . You were out last night.”
His sweet smile returns as if we hadn’t just crossed so many lines. “But I wanted you.”
Omggg I just had to come on and say the love this fic is getting is so wonderful. I’m glad you’re enjoying it and i promise there’s more to come! I’m officially going to turn this into a series 🥰🫣🥹🍎
I posted this on AO3 but decided to post it here too lmfao. I might turn this into a series lol I’m lowkey curious.
POV: your brother’s best friend is home for the summer and he plows you into the couch
The stuff: cute sweet. flirting. crush. making out. couch sex. hold the moan. cunnilingus. Caleb lowkey mean for 2 seconds but it’s not like bad mean it’s hot mean lmfao. Minors DNI.
🍎🍎🍎
Mom:
Can you tell your brother to keep it down?
to Neal:
Can you shut up already?
A boisterous rejoice, louder than the others, echoed throughout the house. Through my ear buds even. He wasn’t reading that text any time soon.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I grumbled, heaving off my warm blankets.
To think my first weekend back home for summer break would be quiet. How stupid of me.
I flung open his door, the knob hitting against the growing hole in the wall. My nose scrunched at the smell of cold Mexican food and sweat. He and his friends are shirtless, save for one, as they cream their drawers over some football video game.
“Hey,” I shouted, and I approach the locked in bozos with crossed arms. “If you wanna be loud as fuck, why don’t you go outside and play actual football? It might justify how nasty you all are.”
“Bro, get out,” my brother said without looking at me, his thumbs noodling the character around the screen with the joysticks.
“Mom said to be quiet. Aren’t you a bit old to be acting like a teenager?”
He ignored me. Typical. Mom really needed to let go of the hope of him ever listening to me.
Caleb, the only one clothed and not drenched, looked up from his phone, our eyes meeting for just a moment. “Our ride is here.”
“What?!” My brother said, pausing the game and fumbling for a shirt. The others followed his lead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I did.” Caleb raised his hands in defense. “You said one more round.”
Neal glared at me. “Dude, get out already.”
“Gladly,” I grumbled.
I nestled back into bed with my fanfiction, but I couldn’t focus. I haven’t seen much of Caleb since school started. Now that the year was over, he’d be here almost every day with Neal and the boys. And that subtle glance from his radiant violet eyes was just the beginning of my crush that revives every summer without fail. He’s always Caleb, but bigger, smarter, cuter in some way. He’s out there developing his character and I just can’t help myself. Whenever he messed with me or talked to me, it satisfied some greedy part of me that wanted his attention. Maybe I’d stand just a little too close on purpose, all the while acting natural. Like I’m just one of the guys. I rolled my eyes. Look who’s being the teenager now.
They stomped a short time later down the hall, and a knock drew me begrudgingly away from my story.
“Yes?”
Caleb’s brown haired head and million dollar smile peaked through the crack. “Should be quieter now.”
“Stay safe,” I said.
I woke from my phone ringing from some distant place. The floor. Neal’s number appeared as a small tab over the fanfic I was reading.
“Hello?” I yawned.
“Hey, it’s Caleb,” the voice on the other end said. I sat straight up in bed, suddenly very awake. “I hate to ask . . . But could ya get the front door?”
I hustled down the stairs, opened the door, and found Caleb hauling Neal. His other friends stood behind them, dazed, half-lidded, trying to remain upright.
“Hi,” Caleb whispered, then thanked me profusely.
I gaped at how delirious Neal was and threw his arm around my shoulder.
“What the fuck, Neal?” I scolded under my breath.
“I’m gonna puke if you keep talking,” he gagged.
“Mom is going to kill you if you throw up on her rug.”
Caleb and I managed to get them all upstairs and into bed. Thankfully, our mom didn’t come busting out of her room with an unforgiving dialogue.
Caleb closed the door behind him and only then did we relax our shoulders.
“They should really compensate you for how much you put up with," I joke. "Are you heading home?"
“We have golf in like 6 hours, so I’ll just crash on the couch. Are the pillows and blankets still in the armoire?”
I went downstairs with him to be sure, and I pulled out a fluffy blanket and a pillow. I tossed them on the sofa. “Gulf with three hung over guys? Sounds more like babysitting.”
He shrugged as he assembled his bed for the evening “Worth it. Last year your brother tipped over the golf cart cause he took a turn too sharp.”
I gasped. “Neal never told me that.”
I could picture him sun burnt to a crisp, drunk as hell, doing donuts in the grass before wiping out.
“Are you sure you’re okay sleeping on the couch?”
“Yeah,” he said as he slipped out of his shoes. “It beats sleeping in a bunk for 9 months.”
I nodded and walked into the kitchen to get the boys water. Passing back through, I found Caleb pulling off his t-shirt, every muscle in his back flexing against his skin. All of his military training was engraved into his muscles. He grew a lot, especially in the past year. I believed it when I heard Neal tell mom he was going to start as a higher ranked pilot in the fleet.
I set the bottle on the side table. “Night,” I said, acting cool and nonchalant.
“Wait,” he said unexpectedly.
I glanced back, his bare chest and abs on display. I’ve seen him half-clothed plenty of times from the years of Neal’s pool parties, so it wasn’t particularly weird but. . .
“I-I’ll bring those up,” he said, circling around the couch and snagging them from me. “Stay put for a second.”
Before I can say anything, he’s already gone with the water. I leaned against the back of the couch, a sudden anchor weighing in my stomach. Stay put. Why would he ask me to stay put? And why am I listening? Well, I’m interested, as Caleb’s never really asked me to hang around. . .Maybe there’s drama between him and the guys, or him and Neal.
He returned shortly after. Still shirtless and clad in his denim jeans with a leather belt stationed around his hips. His hair looked run through like he’d been fiddling with it all night.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is there something going on with Neal?”
He scratched the back of his neck, his bicep arching . “No. I-uhm-“
A flush appeared under his cheeks, a rarity. Caleb was the definition of cool and collected even when he’s being goofy and playful. He’s always in control.
I furrowed my brows. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head, as he seemingly reached some conclusion in his mind. “Never mind. Sorry.”
The anticipation tied itself in knots inside my chest, and it was itching to unravel. “Well, you’ve come this far, so I’m sure you can tell me.”
“It’s so pathetic,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “And desperate.”
I offered him an encouraging smile.“What is?”
He bit his lip, his eyes looking everywhere but me. “It’s been a long year, and I uhm-“ he shrugged. “I-well-oh my god. . . I’ve known you for so long, and I think you’re so fuckin’ pretty . . . And I don’t even know if you’re attracted to me so I shouldn’t even be saying anything. . .”
My eyes widened. That was definitely not what I was expecting him to say. What was happening. . . Caleb just called me pretty, while shirtless and flushing like a nervous wreck.
“Oh gosh,” I muttered.
He looked up then, his face still so red with embarrassment.
“This can’t be the first time you’ve admitted this type of stuff to a girl before.”
“Well, no. I’m just bad at it. . .”
I can’t help but laugh. “This is adorable.” I gestured to him while looking away. “And how couldn’t I be attracted to you?”
“Really?”
I rolled my eyes at his density. “You own a mirror.”
“Not that scrawny dweeb anymore, huh.”
“I liked him, too.”
“So, uhm,” he started again, then gulped. “Neal would kill me if he knew I admitted all this.
“Probably.”
He moved a bit closer, then drew his eyes away again like I was some kind of sin, and he was ashamed. “Would it be, I don’t know, totally asinine if I said I wanted to kiss you?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Caleb, Neal’s best friend and most attractive and sweet and gentle one at that, wanted to kiss me.
“Y-Yeah,” I mumbled. “It would be.”
“I’m a coward, and I’m stupid.” He slid his hands through mine. “Is this okay?”
His warm breath fell over my face. He had never been so close before. I could see details I never had. I nodded.
I closed my eyes as he leaned in, each breath a second away from fusing completely. Instead of landing on my lips, he kissed my cheek. Then my jaw bone, then my chin, to the corner of my mouth. His lips captured mine with sweet sincerity. He sighed, nothing short of a stifled moan.
There was no way this was happening, but it was. In any of the times I imagined kissing Caleb, the reality was exponentially greater. He pulled away but lingered close, his gaze holding mine. It was so intimidating being looked at by someone so beautiful.
I gulped then. “Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
“I don’t need liquid courage.”
“I mean, you looked like you were struggling a little to get the words out.”
“Oh, you shush,” he whispered against my cheek, then left a soft nibble on the skin there. “The academy made me rusty with all that discipline.”
He kissed me again, which then led to making out on the couch. Somehow, I ended up in his lap. . . Our hands couldn’t stop exploring, and our hips found themselves grinding against each other. His cock grew hard beneath his jeans and rubbed against the thin fabric of my shorts.
I got brave and slid my hand down his waist to fiddle with his belt. He watched me undo the buckle, then the button and the zipper, until he’s left in nothing but his briefs. His fingers traced the hem of my shorts and slid them off before I sat back onto his lap. He squeezed my ass between his massive palms and ground me harder into him. Our lips devoured one another. Cheeks red. Mouths panting and stifling moans.
He looked at me while he moved his hand between my legs. He slipped his fingers beneath my panties and traced my wet, aching pussy with teasing fingers.
“Caleb,” I breathe.
He nodded. “Mm-hm. You want it?”
“Yes.”
He flipped us over, my back flush to the couch as he hovered over me.
“W-We could go to my room.”
“That’s even closer to everyone else.”
He lifted up my shirt, revealing my breasts. He trailed his fingers over my stomach and up to my chest before circling my nipples and squeezing my breasts. He pulled his boxers down, finally, revealing his heavy, thick dick.
My hands slid up his waist, over his hard abs and pecs, and I pulled him closer to me. He kissed up my neck and tangled one of his hands in my hair. His cock nudged against my panties.
“Caleb, hurry,” I breathed. “I don’t wanna have to stop if we get caught.”
“Okay, okay. Just trying to savor the moment.”
He pushed my panties to the side and gently pressed his cock into me. He took a sharp breath as he pressed his tip in and out of me, coaxing out wet sounds.
“Fuck, you are so ready for me. Can’t rush this part, baby.”
He slid himself the rest of the way in once he worked me open, and I struggled to bite back the moan from him filling me up. His lips found mine again as he finds his pace somewhere between hard, fast, and just fucking right. My mouth fell open, completely forgetting (or just forgetting to care) that this is risky, and moans tumbled out.
He placed his hand over my mouth. “As much as I wanna hear you moan for me, you need to shut the fuck up,” he whispered, the mean words making me tingle. He squeezed his eyes shut and a low growl rumbled from the pit of his chest. “God damn.”
He angled his hips and he thrusted diligently into a sweet spot. His hand absorbed my moans, but not the whimpers slipping through my throat.
“Do you let those pathetic college fuck boys touch you like this?” He cooed in my ear, his voice rising with condescension. “Huh?”
He looked at me with a devious expression. “I’ll tell ya what. I’ve decided you’re mine all fucking summer. I’m gonna pound your pretty pussy whenever, wherever, however you want, and I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard that you won’t want anyone touching you but me. I’ll send you back to school properly fucked and owned, right?”
Delirious and fuzzy brained, I nodded.
“Good girl.”
His hand lifted from my mouth, the air cool greeting my hot face.
“Where do you want me, princess?” He moaned against my lips. “I’m so close. It’s all yours, baby. You earned it.”
“S-Stomach,” I breathed.
His thrusts quickened as his cock grew harder, his thrusts deeper. He caught my lips with his and buried his moans in my mouth as his hips stuttered. He slipped out and stroked his cock, his cum spurting onto my stomach. I watched as pleasure writhed through him. His jaw went slack, and his brows knitted together. His abs flexed tightly as he trembled.
He caught his breath. “Fuck.”
He looked at the pools of cum roped across my stomach, almost proud. He smiled, then stifled a series of chuckles as cloud 9 floated over him.
He snaked his way down my body. Cold lips sent shivers across my hot skin.
I grabbed for his hair. “Oh, you don’t have to-“
He stopped immediately and looked up at me as if I was insane. “I will and I’m going to.”
“I mean, it just usually takes me a minute to get there from oral.”
“Good thing I love to eat it.”
His lips landed gently on my clit, and I held in a moan. His fingers slipped inside of me with ease.
“I usually do this in the reverse order,” he said. His tongue licked and circled my clit. “But now you’re extra ready to cum.”
The hum of his words sent tingles down my spine and between my legs.
“Caleb,” I moaned lightly as that familiar feeling built.
He groaned, and his tongue worked faster. My hands reached for his hair and I ground my hips into his tongue.
“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on my face.”
He sucked on my clit and pulled it between his lips. The feeling peaked and snapped hard as pleasure washed over me. Heavy pants left my lips as I tried to keep quiet. He held me in place, coaxing me through it. It took everything in me not to moan his name over and over again.
His hands caressed my body as if to settle the landscape of excited nerves. He kissed back up my body and met my lips. Deep, sincere, slow, the eagerness faded.
“Next time,” he said, hovering above me. “We’re going to my place. I wanna hear you moan my name some more. And not quietly.”
Next time.
Birds started to chirp outside the living room window. It was still dark, but the sun was coming, and this would dissolve with it. Sleepiness pressed against my eyes.
“Do you really want to . . . You know. . . Make this a habit all summer?”
“Now that I’ve had you, it’s gonna be real hard to keep my hands to myself.”
“Neal will kill you.”
“Fuck Neal.”
“I mean, you could sleep with someone less problematic . . . You were out last night.”
His sweet smile returns as if we hadn’t just crossed so many lines. “But I wanted you.”
