everybody do the mitski shuffle!!

TEASER

Your friends often called you a snob for this, but you didn’t care.

You can tell immediately how much someone paid for their bedsheets by how soft they feel. When the thread count is high there is no itchiness. No weird lint balls. No flimsy fabric.

Just smooth, plush cotton that made it nearly impossible to get out of bed.

So when your alarm pulls you out of your slumber, and the sheets beneath you don’t melt around your body the way they usually do, you instantly know something is off.

Blindly, you reach toward your nightstand, head heavy from too many glasses of wine you’d had the night before.

But somehow your hand keeps coming up empty, swatting at nothing but air.

Huh?

Popping one eye open, you suck in a breath as your head spins, the insistent alarm doing absolutely nothing to soothe the headache splitting your skull in two.

“Fuck,” you groan, pressing the heel of your palm into your temple , forcing yourself upright.

That’s when you notice it.

The room.

Minimalist furniture. Dark wood floors. A massive window casting morning light across the bed.

None of it belongs to you.

Great.

Slowly, you lift the blanket, revealing the one thing you hoped not to.

Your nudity.

“Oh, this is not happening right now,” you mutter in disbelief, irritation steadily seeping into your bones.

Never in your life have you slept over at a man’s place. Not once.

You are a grown woman with your own apartment, your own routine, and a firm belief that post-hookup sleepovers were a fast track to unnecessary emotional attachments.

The dick couldn’t have been that good.

A loud snore cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

Slowly, you turn your head towards the other side of the bed, revealing a man beside you. He’s sprawled across the mattress like he owns the place, which, judging by the apartment, he probably does.

His bare, pale chest rises and falls steadily, hands tucked behind his head while dark strands of hair fall messily across his forehead. His lips are parted slightly as he snores, the sound surprisingly loud for someone so… attractive.

Annoyingly so.

Sharp nose. Full lips. Broad shoulders. Long legs disappearing beneath the sheets.

You squint at him for a moment, trying to jog your memory through the hangover-induced fog.

Nothing.

Not the bar. Not his name. Not how you got here.

All you have is the dull ache between your legs and the faint scent of cologne lingering on the sheets.

Well.

That answers one question.

With a quiet sigh, you carefully slide out of bed, wincing when your feet touch the cold floor.

Your dress is crumpled near the foot of the bed. One heel tipped over beside it, the other halfway under the nightstand.

As you bend down to gather everything, something gold catches your eye.

An empty condom wrapper. XL.

You stare at it for a long moment, breathing heavily through your nose.

Quietly, you start getting dressed, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure the stranger is still asleep.

He hasn’t moved. Still completely unaware that the woman he spent the night with is currently conducting a silent evacuation.

So invested in getting the fuck asap, you don’t watch your step, foot tripping over his belt.

Before you can react, you go flying forward, your ankle rolling beneath you as you hit the floor.

THUNK.

Pain explodes through your foot and you clap a hand over your mouth scrambling backward, clutching your ankle.

“Shit—shit—shit—”

Your eyes dart toward the bed.

The man shifts slightly, letting out a deep snore before rolling onto his side.

This cannot be your life right now.

You glare at his lump of a frame, hobbling up as you flee the scene, successfully this time.

The cool breeze of the morning air blows against your back as you wait for your uber.

If anyone you know sees you right now, you’ll be mortified.

Luckily, your Uber doesn’t keep you waiting long. Minutes later you’re in the back of the Cadillac, resting your forehead against the cool glass and desperately trying to erase this morning from your memory.

—

A few hours later, you step through the firm’s glass doors with oversized sunglasses shielding half your face.

Normally the sharp clack of your heels announces your arrival long before you reach reception.

But because your ankle is still throbbing and most definitely swollen, your entrance is muffled by your Tory Burch Flats.

“Whoa—” the receptionist startles, glancing up. “You scared me.”

You pause at the desk, clocking in.

“I didn’t even hear your heels,” she says, scanning you suspiciously. “You usually sound like a firing squad coming down the hall.”

Lowering your sunglasses just enough, you give her an unamused look.

“Good morning, Claire.”

“Good morning!” she chirps back, completely unaffected by your mood. “The new hires started orientation today. I’m pretty sure your paralegal is in meeting room B right now. He’s pretty handsome.”

“Great,” you deadpan. “Another thing to distract you from your work.”

Claire gasps, and you can’t help the small smirk that blooms across your face as you walk off. Teasing her is always so easy.

Inside your office, you flick on the lights and round the table to your desk, booting up your Mac.

It’s the first day after the weekend, which means you already have a mountain of emails and phone calls waiting for you.

From the window in your office, you can see the small group of new hires gathered in the hallway, their bright, eager faces turned toward Andrew, the head of the firm, as he leads them through their tour.

His eyes find yours through the glass and he waves you over, but you politely decline closing your blinds.

Unless he wants to start the interview process all over again, Andrew knows better than to volunteer you to give the new hires a lay of the land.

Besides, given the morning you just had, you desperately need to regroup.

And rest this ankle.

Propping your foot up beneath the desk, you get to work, checking off tasks from your to-do list as you slowly find your groove.

Work, at least, is something you’re good at.

Painfully good, according to most.

At just twenty-nine, you’ve already built a reputation in the industry as an attorney clients request when they want results instead of excuses. You were meticulous, relentless, and borderline impossible to impress.

Which is exactly why you keep getting assigned new paralegals. And exactly why you keep burning through them.

You’re not trying to be picky, but you have a reputation to uphold. You worked hard to get to where you are at such a young age. Especially as a woman of color in a male dominated field.

Most people saw the title of senior associate attorney as nothing more than a pay raise, a private office, and a pretty nameplate on the door.

But to you, it meant more than that.

It meant long nights. Sacrifices. Proving yourself in rooms where people were already waiting for you to fail.

So yes, your paralegal had to be on point.

Because they were the pipeline between you and your clients.

Two hours pass in uninterrupted productivity, which you’re grateful for.

The most demanding task on your list was talking one of your clients, a high-profile corporate account, off the ledge.

So a good portion of your morning is spent carefully walking their CEO through why breaching a multimillion-dollar contract in retaliation would not only tank the case, but very likely destroy their public standing in the process.

It takes patience. Precision. And repeating yourself more times than you’d like. But it beats having to clean up a catastrophe later down the road.

By the time you finally hang up the phone, stress lines have formed at your temple, and the heartbeat in your ankle is still persistent.

Glancing down, you notice the swelling isn’t getting any better. You definitely need to put some ice on it.

Deciding to put a pin in your work, you limp toward the break room to concoct a makeshift ice pack.

You try to move as quickly, and quietly, as possible, hoping to avoid any questions about how exactly you managed to fuck up your ankle before noon on a Monday.

But unfortunately, luck isn’t on your side. Andrew stops you on your walk back.

“Woah, slow down Speedy Gonzalez, I got someone I want you to meet,” He teases from his office.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before turning toward him with a practiced smile.

“Sure thing.”

Only as you get closer to his office, the person seated across from his desk swivels in their chair.

Everything in the room seems to fall just slightly out of focus.

The murmur of conversation in the hallway fades out. Andrew’s voice dulling into background noise.

Because the face turning toward you is one you recognize instantly.

A face you were never supposed to see again.

Mr. XL.

He rises, smooth and unbothered, all groomed up. It seems impossible to believe he was the man snoring like a chainsaw three hours ago.

Smiling politely, he extends a hand, cufflink catching the light as he moves.

“Hello, Attorney [+],” he says, his voice a rich, professional baritone. “I’m Seokjin.”

A daunting pause.

“Your new paralegal.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out your skull as you choke on your words. “My what?”

“Don’t be like,” Andrew jokes playfully, though you know there’s a warning behind his light tone. “You’re drowning in all that paperwork by yourself [+], you need a paralegal.”

You eye your boss, his ebony skin smooth despite his years of practice, thick brows raised in promise. “Seokjin here was top of his class. I’m sure he’ll be of great service to you.”

“You gave me a new grad?” You ask, voice strained.

“Well, Technically I’m not a new grad,” Seokjin pipes in, extending his hand further as if you don’t already see it. “I graduated three years ago. But the job market, well, we all know how that goes.”

He lets out a squawking laugh that makes your ears ring, migraine tingling from the assault to your ears.

Life cannot be real right now. Is this guy serious.

Seokjin’s staring at you as if he doesn’t have a clue the two of you shared a bed, amongst other things, last night. Is all this kissing up an act?

You plaster on a tight lipped smile, to appease Andrew. Desperately trying to keep your poker face intact as you internally lose your shit.

Reluctantly, you meet Seokjin’s grip, shaking his firm, yet surprisingly soft hand.

“Welcome to the team, Seokjin.” You grit out.

Andrew laughs from behind his desk. “Take that as a warning, Jin. Attorney [+] doesn’t exactly have the best track record with paralegals. Fingers crossed you can break the streak.”

Your back straightens and you pull your hand away as if it has caught on fire.

Seokjin only smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to Andrew.

“Don’t worry, I don’t scare off easily” Seokjin reassures, “I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

If only he’d been on his best behavior eight hours ago, this meeting wouldn’t be such a raging HR violation.

Seokjin couldn’t be your paralegal. You had to get out of this somehow.

“Anyways, I have to jump on a call, so I’ll be pretty busy for the rest of the day,” Andrew says, already dismissing the two of you. “[+], why don’t you show Seokjin to his desk and get him set up with IT?”

“Andrew, I’m pretty busy myself. I’m sure Claire can—”

Andrew waves you off. “Oh, it’ll only take a few minutes. Seokjin’s dying to get to know you. Isn’t that right, Seokjin?”

Like the world’s most eager ass-kisser, Seokjin nods, flashing all thirty-two.

“Absolutely ,” Seokjin says eagerly . “Show me the lay of the land”, he muses.

You watch him pensively as he smoothes a hand down the front of his suit jacket.

This was odd.

Usually your lawyer senses would be spiking in high alert when someone is deceiving you. But instead of indignation, your stomach pools with dread. Which means there’s a growing possibility that Seokjin has no recollection of the last twenty-four hours.

Meaning this happy go lucky personality isn’t just a front to keep up appearances.

Yeah, the two of you were bound to clash.

Without another word, you turn on your heels. Pace brisk enough your throbbing ankle sends sharp stabs of protest up your leg. But you refuse to let your discomfort show.

Seokjin falls into step beside you effortlessly, his long strides matching your hurried ones as you begin to rattle off your expectations. A desperate attempt to establish a clear boundary between you too.

“My schedule is structured,” you begin, staring straight ahead. “I like everything organized at least two weeks in advance whenever possible. If a client calls, you log it immediately, flag anything urgent, and forward it to me before responding.”

Seokjin hums in understanding beside you, so you continue without slowing.

“I don’t tolerate missed deadlines. I don’t tolerate sloppy filings. If you’re unsure about something, you ask before submitting it, not after. I review everything before it goes out to opposing counsel.”

You round the corner toward the cubicles.

“Court filings get priority. Client correspondence comes second. Internal documentation third. I prefer email summaries over verbal updates, and I expect you to keep my calendar airtight.”

Glancing at him, you notice he’s smiling. Not the usual response to your drilling.

“Do you find something amusing, Seokjin?” you snap.

“Nothing at all,” he says lightly. “Just trying to keep up.”

You stop beside an empty cubicle and gesture toward the desk.

“This is yours. I would say decorate it, but I have feeling it’ll all be in vain.”

Seokjin steps inside the cubicle, looking around with interest as he flops down in his chair, testing the wheels.

“It’s cozy. I have a Jade plant at home that would fit perfectly in that nook,” he says, nodding in approval, completely unbothered by your intimidation.

A blurry memory flashes of the row of plants you passed lining his window sill in your haste to flee this morning. You blink it away rapidly.

You needed to get a grip.

Footsteps approach and you straighten immediately, avoiding his gaze completely.

“Hey, Claire,” you call out to the receptionist passing by. “Do you mind helping Seokjin get set up with IT? I need to get back to work.”

Spinning around, you don’t even wait for a reply as you walk off, forcing yourself not to limp as you retreat down the hallway.

A pit of dread is beginning to form in your stomach, the salad you had for lunch suddenly weighing heavy. Which can only mean one thing.

Seokjin is going to be a problem.

—

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has big puppy-dog eyes you struggle to resist. you don’t always want him to tag along to places with you, or sit in your room while you change, but how can you say no to a face like that?

you have a hard time being mad at him even as he blatantly crosses your boundaries. whenever he’s invasive in his actions or words, you redirect him, whereas you would’ve literally ripped into anyone else.

he’s definitely cried a few times as you’ve scolded him for disrespecting you. yet deep down, his little pout makes you want to apologize for having autonomy.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta stole your favorite perfume from your dorm and sprays it onto his pillow. your addictive scent lulls him to sleep when he’s having trouble dozing off. it also makes it easier to pretend you’re to him closer than you really are.

on late nights, he buries his face into the pillow, inhaling your scent and muffling the sounds he makes to the thought of you. he imagines your hands touching him instead of his own, since he can’t have the real thing yet.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta starts to resent rika for existing. he tries everything in his power to convince you he isn’t still hung up over the dead first love he carries with him. it doesn’t help that she’s so possessive and aggressive toward you. how can he be with you if a curse won’t let him?

he speaks to her differently after the day she attacks you out of jealousy. his tone turns stone cold, and his previously kind requests of her become demands. he’ll sharply order her around, then turn to you and speak sweetly with a soft smile on his face.

rika’s apologized many times since then, but he’s made up his mind.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta’s cursed energy literally wraps itself around you if you’re nearby, especially when the two of you are around other people. it’s awkward when you’re in public around non-sorcerers, who can’t tell that you’re being engulfed by such pressure. sometimes, you swear you can feel it even when you’re supposed to be alone.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has to pretend he doesn’t already know about all of your interests and routines. he used to slip up at first, but he’s gotten a lot better at sounding clueless. he’s sure to ask about your day and listen intently because he loves the way your eyes light up as he shows interest in you.

plus, if you’ve already told him about your day, you have no reason to talk to anyone else about it!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta takes on some of your missions behind your back. he can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, especially at the hands of some foul, disgusting, creature. when you find out he’s been interfering with things, he apologizes profusely and continues to do it anyway.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta makes everyone around you feel on edge. they’re worried about you. they see the way he stares at you while you’re unaware. they feel the atmosphere shift whenever you’re affectionate toward others. they’re hesitant to even say your name in front of him because of how much his demeanor changes.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta had a meeting arranged behind his back by the group while he was visiting the sister school. your friends sat you down and asked if he’s done anything to harm you. you told them you were a bit weary, but “he just has a big heart, that’s it.” they looked unimpressed. as they left, you could’ve sworn you heard panda mutter “stockholm syndrome” under his breath.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ your friends trust yuuta not to hurt them… they think. but they don’t miss the way his face drops or his grip on something tightens when he thinks they’ve said something wrong to you. they love you dearly, but do start to avoid you a bit. if you do talk, they’re paranoid and constantly checking for him over their shoulders. just in case.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ the kyoto students, however, think yuuta’s a fucking freak. his performance in the goodwill event was outstanding because of his skill, of course, and you. he caught kamo and miwa planning to ambush you and immediately stepped in. they barely escaped with their lives, but thankfully, you managed to calm him down before he could go too far (well. further.)

gakuganji and utahime were both horrified and appalled, while gojo simply chalked it up to yuuta's “amazing fighting spirit!”

when todo asked what his type was, yuuta described your body with a dazed expression. mai was disturbed by this interaction.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta was distraught once he noticed you pulling away from him. he hadn’t meant to scare you, but seeing them so close to harming you made him snap. and god, did your absence make him feel sick. he was physically repulsed by himself for upsetting you.

“i made her mad, i hope i die.”

“stfu yuta it’s your turn”

“oh, draw four”

“damn it!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta dropped onto his knees in front of you and groveled for forgiveness, swearing not to do anything like it again. he probably didn’t mean it, but it felt like the truth at the time. when you forgave yuuta while cupping his cheek, he felt as though he was being touched by an angel. he didn’t think he deserved you, or your forgiveness, but since you gave it to him he took it gratefully.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ whenever your classmates bring up yuuta’s behavior to gojo, he waves them off and tells them they’re only being dramatic. gojo is, of course, lying off his ass. he thinks the kid’s a little weirdo who probably shouldn’t be left alone with you. however, he’s banking on you to awaken his potential. it’s definitely a risky plan, but gojo’s known for throwing his students to the wolves.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ maki once caught yuuta licking the blood you left on his hand after he patched up your wound. when she told gojo about it, he simply smiled and said “kids these days are so passionate!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo’s hunch did end up being correct despite his questionable methods. after seeing you and the rest of the first years injured during the night parade of a hundred demons, yuuta’s growth was triggered over his emotional state. he surpassed his limits over his pure rage from seeing you hurt.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo doesn’t say it outloud, but one of the reasons yuuta was sent off to africa was to have some space away from you. he thought the distance will be healthy and better for… everyone, really. he also got tired of being nagged because apparently his student raised concerns about “safety” and “endangerment”, which he rolled his eyes over

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta is sure to call you at least once a day while he’s gone. he doesn’t think he could survive without hearing the sound of your sweet voice. he sends you good morning/goodnight texts around the time he remembers your schedule being while he was with you.

he values every single picture you send of yourself, so much so that he replies to them while typing with one hand!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta doesn’t go to sleep until hours after he’s supposed to be just in case you call him. what if there’s an emergency? what if you’re in need comfort? what if you accidentally buttdial him and he misses out on an interaction with you because he was asleep? he can’t just abandon you!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta appreciates you just the same, if not more, once he returns. except this time, he’s stronger and unafraid of the curses that plague the world. he’s open about his feelings and has learned to control his copious amounts of cursed energy. he’s trained so hard and dedicated himself to protecting you (and the rest of humanity, he supposes).

he’s come to trust that your classmates won’t cross any lines with you. they’re his friends, so he knows they’ll respect his feelings. the same can’t be said about the other sorcerers or random guys on the street who ogle at you.

yuuta doesn’t trust that itadori guy, either. while he was away, toge reported that he was “making eyes” at you every time you two trained together. yuuta reveled in chasing and killing yuuji for the higher ups before unfortunately having to revive him. he may have brought him back, but now yuuji knows he’s someone to be feared.

“Since you want so much attention right?”

Yuta couldn’t believe you. All that talk, all that confidence just for him to have you in a headlock faster than you could even blink.

“My girl wants me to stop playing nice, huh?”  Yuta shoved his fingers in your mouth, pushing past your lips with minimal effort. “That’s what you want, right?”

You can feel one of his cold hands rub down your front, the one that wasn’t still actively keeping you in that headlock, stretching your bottoms away from your skin. His fingers invaded your underwear, completely ignoring the fabric that kept him between himself and your pussy.

The movements were rushed, buried, and completely all over the place. Fingers roughly rubbed in circles over the mound of skin, the heat already radiating off your pussy.

His middle digit dipped down, swiping along your hole. Of course you were already wet.

Yuta pressed a digit in, satisfied with the way you immediately clenched down on him. He was generous enough to give you the opportunity to bask in that pleasure for just a moment, before he retracted the hand altogether.

An annoyed side came from your end, rolling your eyes in the mirror glaring at him. “That’s not fair.” Your boyfriend didn’t entertain your opposition at all, simply ignoring you while he was busy shoving your bottoms down your legs.

Once everything was off, he made it a point to direct your gaze to the mirror. He wanted you to watch. To see how he was about to ruin you. Maybe then you would think twice about pulling something like that stunt a minute ago again.

Yuta gave a warning flex of his forearm, a silent reminder to stay still.

His hand traced down the front of your stomach, trailing his hand down to your nub. He gave a few, infuriatingly slow circular rubs to your clit. Flicking it a bit before moving down to your slit.

You shifted around a bit, frustrated sighs coming from you before he finally put himself where you needed him most.

He sank his middle finger into the moist area of your walls, giving you a few slow strokes on the roof just to get you prepared.

The grin you had on your face was so smug. Even after your actions, Yuta still managed to be as patient and gentle as ever with the way he handled you.

Yuta could only chuckle himself as his eyes stayed glued to yours in the mirror. He’d been prepared to wipe that victory smirk off your cheeks.

The pace switched almost instantly. Yuta’s finger was moving so fast, the squelching sound that came from your hole was so loud.

You fucked up.

Not long after, once you were close enough he pushed a second finger in, then a third. You could barely even sit still, let alone control all the moans you were letting out. “Wait, wait–”

Yuta knew just how to drive you crazy, and you knew it.

Your eyes had squeezed shut, hugging Yuta’s bicep like a lifeline, begging him to slow his movements.

“Look.” The soft, sweet, soothing tone of voice Yuta usually had was long gone. It had been replaced by a deep hum that pulled from the back of his throat.

You were babbling all types of nonsense as you pleaded for him to be more gentle, slow down, anything. “P-please Yuta, just wait a minute..” Anything you could pull out to fight against the overwhelming sensation that had your legs quivering and heels denting the bed below.

The expression you wore could only be described as fucked out.

“No, I said look.” It was his turn to grab your jaw, making sure you watched all his actions in the mirror. If you thought you were so big and bad, Yuta was going to show you how different you two were.

Yuta was so disappointed. He let you get off easy all this time. That was his mistake.

Why do you think he would purposefully let you get the upper hand all the time? He was being so gracious as to let you think you were the one holding the cards, but it must’ve gotten to your head.

Yuta’s legs held yours open from behind with his own. He made sure to keep them all nice and steady so you had no choice but to watch yourself get stretched open on his fingers.

He curled the digits upwards, emphasizing the push up as if he was trying to grip on your insides. “‘Cause you wanted me to ‘take you seriously.’ Those were your words, weren’t they?”

Your breath was ragged and uneven, trying your best to move away but the positions of his arms made it impossible to do so. They kept you caged up in one spot, with little to no room to maneuver around. “Wanted me to stop going so easy on you--”

Yuta's eyes were basically popping out of his skull. Blinking would be a crime with how desperate you seemed at the moment. You weren’t even talking right now. Just whatever mumbles managed to leave your lips is what was said.

He let you dig your nails into his forearms. It was to make sure you knew that there were such things as privileges. There were certain things he could or couldn’t do, could or couldn’t take away. That was one of them, so you should be grateful that he gave you that at least.

The motions of his fingers halted, pulling out of your soaking hole and leaving a slap on your cunt.

You didn’t deserve to have that sweet release just yet, the way you were acting, he really shouldn’t even give it to you at all.

The only reason he was even going to give you dick after the fact was because he wanted to be selfish. Yuta Okkotsu wanted to think about himself for a change.

He wasted no time pulling off his clothes and shoving you forward onto your hands and knees. Giving a few pumps of his cock he pushed into you from behind, a relieved sigh coming from him as he basked in this moment. Your warm walls sucking him in and holding him there, as if they never wanted him to leave.

Much to his dismay, you tried to rotate your head, eyelashes soaked with tears, begging him to kiss you. “Yuu– give me..”

The attempt you made to turn your head to kiss him was just plain embarrassing. Yuta moved his head away, clicking his tongue. “You think you get to make demands like that?”

Every snap of his hips were rhythmic, his breathing uneven as he spoke between every thrust. “After you–” The grip on your throat got tighter as he felt his irritation rising at the thought. “--barged into my room, thinking you could just boss me around?”

One particular press of his cock into your walls had you falling forward with a strained cry. Only being held up by the rough holds of Yuta’s hands on your hip and neck.

Shameless you were.

Were you even trying to be quiet? Being so loud with your friends only a mere few doors down. You must’ve wanted them to hear you. That had to be it.

He wasn’t even being fair. How could he expect you to remain quiet when he was quite literally bullying his way into your cunt. You barely had time to even catch your breath between the time where he pulled out before pushing back in.

You didn’t want anyone to hear you, but it was so hard.

In a desperate attempt to silence the noises that were escaping your lips, the shaky hand that had made its home deep in the covers of his bed came up to close around your mouth.

The way Yuta hand abruptly halted every stroke of his hips just to give a firm shake of his head, reprimanding you. “Move it.” He’d made sure to pronounce every syllable, to make it clear to you, he wasn’t messing around.

With a shake of your head, you mumbled out a very brief, “no”, under the gasps that escaped your throat.

It was hilarious. You really were delusional. Of course you weren’t going to listen even though Yuta had already made it clear he wasn’t listening to any of that. He supposes that with you, actions do speak louder than words.

With a rather deep roll of his hips into that mushy spot of your walls, his movements halted, performing a thrust-and-hold motion on your cervix.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn you stopped breathing. Your eyes moved to the back of your head, silence taking over the room after a brief gasp on your end.

Yuta observed the way your face twisted in the mirror. The way sweat dripped down the side of your neck, with your scalp sweaty, and hair sticking to the back of your neck.

After a few seconds of an intense hold, you both breathed in sync.

As tough as Yuta had tried to seem, he couldn’t and didn’t run away from the fact that he was breathing like he had just ran a marathon. Your walls clenched around him as he released a particularly loud whimper, pulling out of you almost completely before slamming back in and holding once again.

The hand that had been holding yours behind your back released, moving to your hip instead to hold his balance.

Each shove of your hand against his abdomen had Yuta biting the skin off his lip, dragging you back on to him every time, so that there was no way you were running away from it. After all, words were meaningless.

Your walls tensed around him as he leaned onto your back, skin to skin, feeling the cool metal of his ring chain dangle over you.

At this point, you could care less about whoever heard you. The way Yuta’s cock filled your walls had you borderline hypnotised.

A few more slow drags of his cock in your walls had you falling over the edge, him not very far behind. “please, oh my–fuck.”

Yuta buried his hips to the hilt inside of you, a drug out “give it to me, please.”, coming from his mouth the second you came, pushing him into his orgasm.

You both were panting, soft whimpers from both of your ends as he slipped out, the sensitivity causing you two to twitch.

The smell sex and sweat was heavy in the air, your nose briefly catching the apple scent of the air freshener that sat atop Yuta’s desk.

The exhaustion took over you, leaving you to fall onto the mattress. You were so done. It was becoming difficult to even keep your eyes open. He’d fucked the energy out of you. 

“On your back.”

What did he just say? 

Your eyes lazily glanced up to meet him in the mirror, though Yuta had already beaten you to the punch.

The next thing you knew, he did indeed have you on your back, legs in the air as his tip pushed its way back into you. By the way his pupils were blown out, hair messily falling in front of his face, soaked in sweat, it wouldn’t take a genius to know this was far from over.

So much for being done.

@texas-bitch-yee, @hioriiii, @megssleepygirl

AN: comments are appreciated ♡

So, when it came to protecting Mikey, hesitation wasn't in Haruchiyo's vocabulary. It wasn't an option. Even as the vice president of the Kanto Manji Gang, commanding men who would have spilled blood for him without question, he had walked into an enemy trap alone.

Fourteen men against one.

It wasn’t a fight; it was a calculated sacrifice. A massacre.

Haruchiyo had fought like a demon unleashed, his katana moving with a precision and ferocity that turned the narrow alley into a butcher's den. Flesh tore, blood sprayed, and screams rose like a choir of agony in the night. For every cut he delivered, though, another fist found its mark. A bat slammed into his ribs. A knife grazed his body. Yet he didn't stop. Every movement, every ounce of pain, was fuel for the fire that burned him.

By the time the last man fell, Haruchiyo was barely standing.

Now, sprawled on the street, his breath came in wet, ragged gasps, each one an effort that felt like swallowing glass. The katana he'd fought so fiercely with had slipped from his grasp, its one-sharp edge dulled and stained crimson. A knife wound in his side pulsed with pain, the searing ache radiating outword with each shallow rise and fall of his chest. His blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the filthly street like a grosteque offering.

The world around him began to twist and blur, a kaleidoscope of dim streetlights and distant, faceless silhouettes. People were there—he could hear the hurried shuffle of their feet the murmurs of unease carried on in the wind. But none of them came closer. Their figures remained hazy and indistinct, heads turned away as if acknowledging his existence was an act too heavy to bear.

And maybe it was. He didn't deserve their pity. He didn't want it. What use did a knight have for mercy?

His hand slipped slightly, the strength draining from him faster than he could summon the will to move. The relentless ache in his body intensified, his limbs growing heavier with each passing second. A part of him recognised the truth: he was losing too much blood. The edges of his vision darkened, shadows creeping inward, threatening to consume him.

It was fine. This was how it was supposed to end, wasn't it?

Haruchiyo had always been a piece on the board, a knight thrown into battle again and again without hesitation. He was meant to break, to shatter, to be discarded when his usefulness ran out. As long as the king stood tall, untouchable, his sacrifice was nothing more than a necessary loss. And so, as the void began to reach for him, he let his mind drift, accepting its cold embrace with the faintest hint of a smile.

Until your voice jolted him awake.

“Are you alright?”

It was soft, hesitant, and impossibly gentle—so out of place in the brutal, blood-soaked reality he lived in that it made his eyes flutter open, despite the overwhelming exhaustion.

At first, he could only make out the shape of you—standing in front of him, your figure illuminated by the dim orange glow of a nearby streetlight. His gaze shifted, struggling to steady, until he caught sight of your school uniform—a pristine, ordinary thing that looked so absurdly out of place amidst the blood-soaked chaos. And then there was your face: wide-eyed and paled with worry, as you stared at him like you couldn't quite believe what you were seeing.

You shouldn't have been there.

Someone like you—a stranger, so normal, so untainted—had no business stopping for him. You should have turned away, just like everyone else. You should have kept walking, left him there to bleed out and vanish, just another nameless casualty swallowed by the night.

And yet, you hadn't.

You were holding out something to him—a handkerchief embroidered with flowers. It looked laughably small in your hands, the kind of thing that belonged neatly folded in a school bag. How could that delicate thing possibly fix the mess he was in?

When he didn’t move, didn’t say anything, uncertainty flickered across your face, and your hand lowered slowly.

“I just called the ambulance,” you said, your voice was steady, but he didn’t miss the way your fingers trembled. “They should be here any minute.”

Your gaze darted to his wound, and he saw the way your lips pressed into a tight line as if you were debating whether you should be doing more.

“I… I can’t stay long,” you added, almost apologetically. “I’ve got an important test to get to. But I didn’t want to just…”

You trailed off, biting your lip as though the words felt inadequate, as though you were ashamed of even thinking of leaving him.

His chest ached at your concern.

It wasn’t pity, though—your voice didn’t carry that patronizing weight. It was genuine. The kind of thing he hadn’t encountered in what felt like a lifetime.

He wanted to tell you to leave.

That your kindness was wasted on him. That people like him didn't deserve help, didn't deserve saving. That the world would be better off if he bled out here, just another piece sacrificed for the king's game.

But the words wouldn't come.

All he could do was lie there, his breathing ragged, his body a leaden weight against the cold asphalt. His eyes, hazy yet piercing, locked onto yours, as if searching for an answer he didn't know how to ask.

Then you knelt in front of him, holding out the handkerchief once more.

The mechanical mistrust ingrained in him since childhood roared to life. His instinct flared violently, screaming at him to shove you away, to guard himself. His hand shot out before he could stop it, knocking yours aside with more force than intended.

You froze mid-motion, your hand lingering in the air, your eyes widening slightly. A moment of silence passed, and he anticipated the usual response—fear, disgust, even hatred.

But your gaze softened instead.

"I'm not going to hurt you," you said gently as though you were speaking to a frightened animal. "I just want to help."

Help.

He stared at you, his chest tight with disbelief. The concept felt alien, as if you'd spoken a language he'd never learned. People didn’t help without wanting something in return. Not in his world. Not in the life he’d been swallowed by since the day Mikey pulled him out of the gutter and gave him a purpose.

Still, your hand came forward again, slower this time, the handkerchief trembling between your fingers.

The soft fabric brushed against his cheek, and he froze. Every muscle in his body locked, the instinct to recoil roaring in his mind, but his body betrayed him, rooted in place. Your touch was gentle, so impossibly careful, it felt like you were afraid of breaking him.

Breaking me? The thought almost made him laugh—if he weren't already choking on exhaustion. But I'm already broken.

His life had been a series of fractures, cracks spreading deeper with every betrayal, every fight, every sacrifice made in Mikey's name.

And yet, this—your touch, your gaze, your voice—scraped at a forgotten part inside him, a hollow space he'd long since buried beneath rage and violence. A part of him he didn't recognise anymore.

For that fleeting moment, Haruchiyo let you clean the blood off his face. The warmth of your touch soothed the sting of his wounds, both seen and unseen, you presence anchoring him a way he didn't understand and didn't want to question.

Then the panic set in.

"Don’t," he snapped, the word tearing from his throat, as he jerked your hand away again.

Letting someone in, even this much, felt like a crack in his armor, and the vulnerability clawed at him like a living thing.

You sighed in response, your frustration flickering across your face, but there was no anger. “Fine, I’ll stop.”

You tucked the handkerchief away.

Haruchiyo watched silently as you pulled out a notepad from your bag, scribbling something quickly before tearing the page free. You folded it neatly in your hands and held it out to him.

"I really need to get going now," you said, straightening to your full height. Your schoolbag shifted on your shoulder, a reminder of the normal life you'd be returning to—a world so far removed from his.

"But if you need anything, call me. Please. I mean it."

Haruchiyo stared at the paper, but he didn’t take it.

You hesitated for only a second before bending down and slipping it into his hand yourself. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, but the contact was enough to send a jolt through him—one he didn’t know how to process.

He stared down at the paper now crumpled in his hand, the faint imprint of your touch still linegering on his skin. His mind raced, torn between the instinct to throw it away and the inexplicable urge to hold onto it like a lifeline.

You.

Someone who had stepped into his world—this brutal, twisted hell he lived in—and hadn't turned away. Someone who didn't treat him like he was nothing more than a lunatic, a dog loyal to its master.

Someone who looked at him and saw a man worth saving.

He didn't understand it. He didn't trust it. But he couldn't bring himself to reject it.

You turned to leave, but paused a few steps away, glancing back over your shoulder with a small, uncertain smile.

"Don’t forget," you said softly, "you can call me, okay?"

And then you were gone, your figure swallowed by the chaos of the city.

Still, he didn’t move. The sounds of the world around him—the distant hum of traffic, the wail of approaching sirens—blurred into static. His heart pounded, erratic and uneven, a thundering rhythm he couldn't control. He couldn't explain it—why his chest felt tight, why his throat burned, why this small, stupid piece of paper felt heavier than the katana he'd wielded mere hours ago.

For the first time in his life, Haruchiyo Sanzu didn't know what he was supposed to do.

And it terrified him.

Haruchiyo Sanzu couldn’t get you out of his mind.

It was infuriating.

Days had passed since you left him on that bloodstained street with your naive kindness and a flimsy promise tucked into his hand. Days spent staring at white ceilings, surrounded by the antiseptic stench of the hospital Mikey had sponsored—quiet, pristine, and isolating. Mikey hadn’t even bothered to visit, and part of Haruchiyo expected that. The boss was angry.

Not that Mikey’s silence stung—it did.

But the truth was, Mikey had done enough. He’d kept the whole ordeal from reaching the police, hidden the mess Haruchiyo had made in his reckless attempt to protect the king. That was Mikey’s way: decisive and clean. Still, the absence of his leader left Haruchiyo restless, trapped in a limbo of recovery and idleness.

And then there was you.

Your voice, your face, the warmth of your touch—they haunted him. Haruchiyo scowled as he pulled the crumpled note from his pocket, smoothing the creases with his thumb. Your number, still smudged with his blood, stared back at him like a challenge.

“Don’t forget, you can call me, okay?”

He hadn’t called you.

Not even once.

He told himself it was for the best. You were a normal girl—innocent, untouched by the filth of his world. It would be irresponsible, dangerous, to drag you into the dark. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the selfish, traitorous part of him wanted to see you again.

The knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts, and Haruchiyo shoved the paper back into his pocket just as it creaked open.

Ran Haitani sauntered in like he owned the place, a shit-eating grin on his face, dark Kanto Manji Gang uniform hanging perfectly off his tall frame. His signature braid dangled over his shoulder, swaying with every step.

“You look like shit, man,” Ran quipped as he stopped at the foot of Haruchiyo’s bed.

Haruchiyo shot him a glare, his lips curling in irritation. “If you’re here to waste my time, get lost.”

Ran didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, as if he owned the place. “Relax. I’m only here as a messenger. Boss sent me.”

At that, Haruchiyo’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening despite the ache it caused. “What does he want?”

“He’s pulling you out of the gang for a while. Says you’re supposed to rest.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Haruchiyo pushed himself upright, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced through his side. “Bullshit. Mikey wouldn’t say that.”

Ran shrugged, feigning indifference. “Believe what you want, but those were his exact words.”

Haruchiyo’s jaw clenched, his fists balling in the sheets. “There’s no one who can protect Mikey like I can. He knows that.”

At that, Ran’s smirk faltered, his violet eyes narrowing just slightly. “That’s the problem, Haru-chan. You think you’re the only one who can do shit? Like the rest of us are just for show?”

“Because you are,” Haruchiyo snapped. “None of you understand what Mikey needs. What it takes to keep him safe. You’re all just playing at loyalty.”

The room grew tense, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Ran straightened, his easygoing demeanor shifting into a chilling coldness.

“And you think kissin’ his ass makes you better than us? Newsflash, Mad Dog. Just because we don’t worship him the way you do doesn’t mean we’d hesitate to kill for him.”

Haruchiyo opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could get a word out, Ran’s fist connected with his face.

The punch wasn't hard enough to cause any real damage, but the impact jerked Haruchiyo’s head to the side. The sting was enough to leave him momentarily stunned, his fingers flying to his cheek as his eyes snapped back to Ran, blazing with fury.

“-The fuck?!”

Ran shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face as if he hadn't just signed his death warrant. "I’ve always wanted to do that. Figured now's my best shot since you're, y'know, bedridden."

Haruchiyo’s hands clenched into fists, his entire body vibrating with restrained rage. "You want to die, Haitani?"

"Not today," Ran replied smoothly, raising his hands in mock surrender. But there was no fear in his eyes, only that infuriating glimmer of amusement.

“Anyway, Boss got another job for you.”

Haruchiyo scoffed, his anger momentarily eclipsed by disbelief. "What job?"

"You're going to guard someone."

Haruchiyo frowned. Guard duty? That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t some babysitter.

“Who?”

Ran’s grin widened, and his next words came as casually as a bomb dropping.

“Mikey’s girlfriend.”

Haruchiyo’s body stilled, his mind whirring as the air seemed to shift around him. “What? Mikey’s girlfriend?”

“Surprise, surprise.” Ran chuckled. “Turns out Boss is a ladies’ man. Figures, huh?”

Haruchiyo said nothing. His expression was carefully blank, but his chest tightened with a foreign, unpleasant feeling. Mikey—his king, his leader—had a girlfriend? He’d never heard anything about her before.

The thought churned in his gut like acid, his loyalty and jealousy clashing violently. Who the hell was she? What kind of girl could hold a place in Mikey’s heart that wasn’t reserved for the gang—wasn’t reserved for him?

Whoever she was, Haruchiyo doubted she deserved him.

“She’s important,” Ran said, turning to leave. “So don’t screw this up, Haru-chan. If you do… well, I’ll have another reason to smash your face in.”

Haruchiyo didn’t respond, his mind already spinning as the door clicked shut behind Ran. He leaned back against the pillows, his head swimming with questions.

His fingers brushed against the paper in his pocket, its edges worn and stained. The burning question lingered like a curse: Who the hell was she?

And why did he already feel like he was losing something he never even had the chance to claim?

Haruchiyo Sanzu leaned casually against his superbike, its black frame gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. His presence alone drew a crowd, as it always did. Dressed in a loose black turtleneck and fitted jeans, with his pink hair pulled back into a ponytail, he cut a figure both intimidating and impossibly attractive. The all-girls school gate was abuzz with murmurs and giggles as students streamed out, whispering and glancing in his direction.

But Haruchiyo ignored them.

He wasn’t here for them.

Today, he had a job to do—a job he wanted no part of. Guard Mikey’s girlfriend. The words alone made his blood boil. He knew this wasn’t about trust; this was a punishment. Mikey was pulling him away from the gang, away from what Haruchiyo lived for, because he’d disobeyed. Charging headfirst into enemy territory was reckless, and Mikey knew it wasn’t just about protecting him. Haruchiyo enjoyed the fight. The blood. The chaos.

And this? This assignment was meant to tear that from him, to leash him like a misbehaved dog. Worse still, Mikey was entrusting him with someone weak. Someone unworthy of a king.

His phone buzzed in his hand, breaking him from his brooding thoughts. He glanced at the screen before answering lazily, holding the phone to his ear.

“Is that you with the bike? I’m right in front of you!”

The feminine voice rang through the line—soft, sweet, familiar. Haruchiyo frowned, his gaze lifting instinctively to search the dispersing crowd.

And then he saw you.

You were waving a hand above your head, your phone still pressed to your ear as you caught his eye. Your face lit up when you spotted him, a bright, cheerful smile gracing your lips as you walked toward him.

His breath caught in his throat.

You.

The girl who had stopped for him. The girl who’d knelt beside him on that blood-soaked street, her voice soft and kind, her hands unshaking as she wiped his face. The girl who had called an ambulance and disappeared, leaving him with nothing but a crumpled note and a memory that had been haunting him ever since.

What the hell is going on?

Haruchiyo stiffened, his hand tightening around his phone as he stared at you approaching. He felt the ground shift beneath him, felt a sharp and painful twist in his chest. The warmth he’d felt in that moment you saved him—the unspoken gratitude he refused to admit—curdled into a dark and bitter emotion.

“Hey,” you said as you stopped in front of him, lowering your phone. “You’re Sanzu, right? Mikey’s friend?”

He stared at you, his teal eyes wide in disbelief. “You…” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “Who the hell are you?”

You blinked, clearly confused by the question.

“I’m Mikey’s girlfriend,” you replied, the words light and cheerful—so matter-of-fact that you might as well have driven a knife through his chest.

Haruchiyo’s stomach dropped. The blood drained from his face, leaving him cold.

His girlfriend.

The truth hit him with all the subtlety of a freight train. His mind reeled, a thousand thoughts crashing into one another. You’re Mikey’s? The girl who had stopped for him, the girl who had shown him kindness he didn’t deserve—you were Mikey’s.

A hot, suffocating mix of anger and jealousy roared to life in his chest. It confused him, rattled him to his core. Jealous of Mikey? Jealous of you? He couldn’t tell anymore, but the fury was there, blinding and undeniable.

“Y-you’re Sanzu, right?” you asked again, your voice hesitant now as you took in his silence.

He ignored your question entirely. Turning away sharply, Haruchiyo pulled a helmet off his bike and tossed it at you without warning. You barely caught it, stumbling back as it hit your hands clumsily.

“Get on,” he ordered coldly, already swinging his leg over the bike and settling onto the seat.

“Oh… alright,” you said softly, your tone unsure, as if you’d finally realized he wasn’t the friendly face you’d expected.

Haruchiyo felt your weight shift behind him as you climbed on, the awkward shuffle of your movements pressing against his back. He didn’t give you a moment to settle; he twisted the throttle, and the bike roared to life, lurching forward so suddenly you were forced to cling to him.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. He could feel your body against his, your warmth seeping into him, and it only made the ache inside him worse.

The ride was silent.

Haruchiyo’s mind was anything but.

The wind whipped past him, cold and sharp, but he barely felt it. All he could think about was you. The girl who’d saved him. The girl who’d smiled at him, looked at him like he wasn’t just a weapon, wasn’t just Mikey’s loyal dog. That brief moment of kindness had lingered inside him, burning like a flame he couldn’t snuff out.

And now you belonged to Mikey.

Of course you did. Mikey got everything—every ounce of respect, every shred of loyalty, every good thing this world had to offer. And Haruchiyo? He was just the knight on the board, meant to protect the king. Nothing more.

But the worst part—the part that clawed at him like a splinter lodged deep in his chest—was the fact that you didn’t remember him.

To you, he was just Sanzu Haruchiyo. Mikey’s friend. A stranger on a bike.

Not the broken, bleeding boy you’d knelt beside.

Not the one you’d saved.

As the city blurred past him, Haruchiyo tightened his grip on the throttle, pushing the bike faster, as if speed could drown out the storm raging in his head.

But no matter how hard he tried, the bitterness wouldn’t go away.

You were Mikey’s.

And Haruchiyo Sanzu hated it.

Haruchiyo Sanzu leaned against the wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression blank. Or at least, he hoped it was blank. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to catch the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Can’t believe Mikey’s letting some chick walk all over him like that,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You froze mid-step, your head tilting slightly as his words registered.

“She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, sucking all the fucking edge out of him. Pathetic.”

The words were sharp, venomous, and entirely uncalled for, but Haruchiyo couldn’t stop them from spilling out. He told himself it was necessary—a reminder to himself, to you, that you were unworthy of Mikey.

And for a moment, he thought he’d feel better for saying it.

But then he saw the look on your face.

It was fleeting—so fleeting that anyone else might have missed it—but Haruchiyo caught it. The flicker of hurt in your eyes was like a dagger straight to his chest.

His heart clenched, his stomach twisting painfully. Guilt began creeping in slowly, wrapping around his throat like a noose. He wanted to say something, to take the words back, to apologize—but his pride slammed the door shut before he could.

Instead, he turned away, ignoring your gaze as he stalked off, every step heavier than the last. His heart thudded against his ribs as he tried to ignore the pang of regret gnawing at him. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was better than standing there, looking at the pain he’d caused.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Haruchiyo didn’t know how to deal with this—how to deal with you. You weren’t supposed to matter. You weren’t supposed to be anything more than an assignment Mikey had handed him, one he’d reluctantly accepted out of duty.

You’d been targeted lately by outsiders—bullies, opportunists, people who thought messing with Mikey’s girl was a shortcut to provoking him. Mikey had ordered Haruchiyo to guard you, along with a few other trusted gang members, and Haruchiyo had obeyed without question.

But obedience didn’t mean he had to like it.

Your presence made him feel unsteady, like the ground beneath his feet was shifting constantly. He’d tried to shake it off, to focus on the task at hand, but being alone with you was unbearable.

So instead, he dragged you around the others, tossing his so-called responsibility to them under the guise of laziness. Kakucho, Ran, Mochizuki—hell, anyone else could do it. As long as he didn’t have to be alone with you.

But no matter where you were, his eyes always found their way back to you.

Ran’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?” Haruchiyo replied flatly, not bothering to look at Ran. His eyes were glued to you, watching as you chatted awkwardly with Kakucho.

“That face,” Ran drawled, a teasing lilt in his tone. “You look like you’re about to stab her. Or Kakucho. Maybe both.”

Haruchiyo didn’t respond. His grip tightened in his pockets as he watched you giggle at something Kakucho said.

That sound—your laugh—it was like a dagger twisting in his chest.

You were Mikey’s girl. You should only be laughing like that around Mikey. Or… him.

Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, the distant, throaty growl of Mikey’s Street Hawk sliced through the air like a warning bell. The familiar sound carried weight—authority—that silenced the room in an instant. Every head turned toward the door.

Haruchiyo’s spine straightened instinctively, his eyes flicking toward the door as the door swung open to reveal Mikey, calm and collected as always.

And then you moved.

Haruchiyo watched, his chest tightening as your face lit up the second you saw Mikey. That radiant smile—blinding, unfiltered, genuine—was a sight he hadn’t seen you give to anyone else all day.

“Mikey!” Your voice was filled with warmth, the kind Haruchiyo hadn’t realized he craved until it wasn’t directed at him.

Before anyone could process it, you were already rushing toward Mikey, throwing your arms around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Haruchiyo’s stomach churned, the knot of emotions in his chest tightening until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Mikey’s hand rested lightly on your back in return, his expression unreadable. But Haruchiyo knew Mikey—knew how rare it was for him to show affection so openly.

The casual intimacy between you and Mikey clawed at him, a sensation so raw and uncomfortable that he had to bite the inside of his cheek just to keep himself in check.

He didn’t even realize how hard he was staring until Ran’s voice slid into his ear again.

“Careful. You’re staring holes into them. People might start thinking you’ve got a thing for her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Haruchiyo snapped.

Ran smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Relax, Haru-chan. She’s just doing what girlfriends do. It’s not like you’ve got a shot anyway.”

The words hit their mark, and Haruchiyo snapped his glare toward Ran, his sharp eyes practically daring him to say more. But Ran, ever the provocateur, just chuckled and walked off, leaving Haruchiyo stewing in his own fury.

He tore his gaze away from you, but it was too late. The image of your arms wrapped around Mikey was already burned into his mind.

The jealousy bubbling in his chest was scorching, suffocating. And the worst part was, he couldn’t tell who he was jealous of.

Was it Mikey? Mikey, who had everything Haruchiyo had ever wanted—respect, loyalty, and now, you?

Or was it you? You, with your radiant smile, your soft laugh, your ability to draw out a side of Mikey that Haruchiyo hadn’t seen in years.

The lines blurred until all Haruchiyo could feel was a searing hatred for the way you made him feel.

Hatred, because he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Hatred, because he couldn’t stop looking at you.

And hatred, because no matter how much he told himself you didn’t belong in their world, a selfish part of him wanted you to stay.

Haruchiyo Sanzu knew exactly what he wanted.

He was a man of sharp edges, carved by desire and driven by instinct. When he reached for something, he never hesitated. Women were no exception—most of them fell for his dangerous charm, entranced by his striking pink hair and the unshakable confidence he exuded. But you? You were different.

Because you weren't just unreachable.

You were Mikey's.

That fact alone made every lingering thought about you unbearable. Every smile you gave to Mikey, every laugh that lit up your face—each one was a taunt, a reminder of the invisible line Haruchiyo couldn't cross.

And yet, you haunted him.

Haruchiyo had tried to convince himself that his infatuation with you would fade, that the strange ache in his chest every time he saw you with Mikey would eventually dull. He sought distractions, found fleeting thrills, and buried himself in the chaos of the gang’s world. For a while, he believed he had it under control.

The ache didn’t lessen, but he’d learned to hide it. He’d trained himself to stop flinching when you smiled at Mikey, to ignore the way his stomach twisted when you laughed, to dismiss the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him when he saw the way you looked at Mikey.

Then, one day, it all unraveled.

You came to him, tears streaming down your face, your voice trembling as you pleaded for his help.

“Mikey—he’s surrounded! There are too many of them. Please, you have to save him!”

Your words hit him like a knife to the chest, but it wasn’t just the message that cut him. It was the sight of you—your tear-streaked cheeks, your swollen red eyes, the desperation in your voice.

“The fuck are you doing here?! You tryna get yourself killed?!” His voice cracked like a whip, sharp enough to make you flinch.

His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his katana, the metal trembling with the force of his grip. Rage rolled off him in waves, but beneath it bled a deeper emotion—fear—desperate to be disguised.

He hissed through his teeth, voice dropping low. “Just… get the fuck out of here before you end up a corpse at my feet.”

Your tearful gaze wavered, lips parting as if to speak, but Haruchiyo had already turned away, jaw locked tight as though he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer.

You don’t belong here, he thought bitterly, his jaw clenching as he strode forward. Why the hell are you even involved in this mess?

He knew the answer: because of Mikey.

It was always Mikey.

The realization only stoked the fire inside him, the bitter lump in his throat making it harder to breathe.

By the time he found the enemies, Haruchiyo was already seeing red. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to consider his actions. The first swing of his katana was precise and brutal, and the rest followed in a blur of blood and chaos.

His mind was blank, his body moving on instinct. He didn’t even register Mikey’s presence amidst the fight—didn’t notice his boss standing off to the side, silent and watchful.

All Haruchiyo cared about was eliminating every single threat.

When the last body hit the ground, Haruchiyo Sanzu stood amidst the carnage, chest heaving, blood dripping from his katana. He didn’t know whose blood it was anymore—his or theirs—but it didn’t matter. The red painted across his skin and clothes told the same story: violence and rage.

He turned to you.

You were still standing there, frozen, your hands trembling at your sides. Your wide eyes met his, but they weren’t filled with relief or gratitude.

They were filled with fear.

Haruchiyo’s stomach twisted painfully, but it wasn’t the trembling in your figure that drew him closer. It was the smear of blood on your cheek, stark against your pale skin, that compelled him forward.

Without thinking, he stepped toward you, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked pavement. His hand rose, unsteady, to wipe the blood from your face.

You flinched.

The sharpness of your movement cut hit him like a freight train, forcing him to stop mid-reach. His breath hitched, the sting of rejection settling deep in his chest.

What the hell was he doing? Trying to wipe your cheek like he was someone who could comfort you? Like he was someone who deserved to touch you?

His hand didn’t retreat. Instead, it lowered, wrapping gently around your throat.

There was no pressure, no intent to hurt—just his palm resting against your skin, feeling the rapid pulse beneath it. The warmth of your neck spread through him, grounding him in a way he didn’t understand.

For a moment, he let himself believe a lie.

That your quickened heartbeat wasn’t from fear but from something else. That it matched his own racing pulse, fueled by the same feelings coursing through him.

“Sanzu… Have we met before?”

The question jolted him.

He blinked, his grip loosening slightly as he stared at you.

“You were that boy,” you continued, realization dawning in your wide eyes. “The one I saw bleeding on the street.”

A bitter sneer twisted his lips, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What about it?”

Your words faltered, dying in your throat as his fingers flexed against your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his presence. His gaze bore into yours, searching, desperate to find something other than fear in your eyes.

But it wasn’t there.

The crunch of footsteps behind him made Haruchiyo freeze.

Your eyes snapped past him, locking onto the source of the sound. Relief washed over your features, softening the fear that had been etched there moments ago.

Mikey.

Haruchiyo didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. He could feel Mikey’s presence, calm and commanding, like a weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Your gaze darted back to him, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether to plead for him to release you or to run.

Haruchiyo almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Run,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And you did.

You swatted his hand away, stepping back before turning on your heel and running straight to Mikey.

“Mikey!” Your voice cracked with emotion as you clung to his arm. “Are you okay?”

Haruchiyo didn’t move. His hand hung limply at his side as he stared at the empty space where you’d stood just seconds ago. The warmth of your skin lingered against his palm, but it did nothing to quell the cold sinking into his chest.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he took a moment to recompose himself.

When he finally turned, his gaze met Mikey’s.

You were holding onto Mikey’s arm, your tear-streaked face pressed against his shoulder. Your sobs were quieter now, but the sight of you leaning on someone else—even if it was Mikey—stung in a way Haruchiyo didn’t have the words to describe.

The weight of his guilt, his jealousy, his unspoken feelings pressed down on him, and for a moment, Haruchiyo couldn’t breathe.

He dropped to his knees in front of Mikey, bowing his head low.

“Boss,” he murmured.

Mikey’s dark eyes flicked to Haruchiyo, unreadable as always.

“Akashi.”

Haruchiyo Sanzu had spent years pretending he didn’t feel anything for you.

But he wasn’t stupid.

He knew what it was—this thing clawing at his chest every time you smiled at Mikey. He knew it when you clung to Mikey’s sleeve back in school, when you cried into his arms, when you looked at him—Haruchiyo—as though he was just a shadow standing in Mikey’s light. That hollow weight in his chest wasn’t hate. It was hunger.

Obsession.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it would pass. That you’d go away or Mikey would grow tired of you. That he would grow tired of you.

But you didn’t. Mikey didn’t. And Haruchiyo never did.

He tried to drown it out. He tried. Even now, years later, with Bonten inked into his skin and blood on his hands, he was still haunted. Haunted by the shape of your mouth, by the way your voice rose when you were angry, by the way you existed without even trying—and drove him fucking insane while doing it.

The nightclub owned by the Haitani brothers became his escape.

Most nights, he’d end up in that dim, smoke-filled private room on the third floor, neon lights flashing like a heartbeat through the glass. Music pounding against the walls. Lines of white spread out neatly across the glass table, a lighter flicking on and off between his fingers. There were always women around—girls who giggled too loud and touched him too much—but they were nothing.

They weren’t you.

They didn’t sneer the way you did when you were pissed. They didn’t challenge him, didn’t call him a lunatic like it was a curse and a promise all at once.

They didn’t burn.

And so, Haruchiyo stopped pretending. He sent the girls away. He drowned himself in pills, crushed and bitter on his tongue, chased with whiskey that burned like guilt. The drugs numbed the rage but not the ache. Not the way your name still hovered in the back of his throat like smoke he couldn’t cough up.

Most nights, the Bonten executives left him alone. Too many bad nights. Too many broken bottles. Too many holes in the walls and bruises blooming across people’s faces when they touched him wrong.

He was too much when he was high, they said.

But alone—that’s when the worst came.

The drugs hit fast, coating his mind in a blissful, detached haze. Everything slowed down. Everything softened.

Except you.

You were always there. In the corner of his eye. In the phantom weight on his lap. In the echo of your voice curled around his name like a noose.

And fuck—it wasn’t fair.

Why did it have to be you?

Why was it only you?

He sank deeper into the couch, one hand running down his face, the other sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. He didn’t even hesitate anymore. Didn’t bother closing his eyes—he didn’t need to. Your face was already there, so vivid it made his chest hurt.

His breath stuttered as his fingers wrapped around his length. He was already half-hard just thinking about your voice—sharp and angry, soft and breathless. He imagined you straddling him, fists in his shirt, cursing him through gritted teeth while your body told a different story. He imagined the way you’d glare at him when he made you beg.

Haruchiyo’s hips bucked into his palm.

A sharp breath. A curse. His grip tightened.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Mikey would fucking kill him if he knew. If he ever knew what Haruchiyo thought when he looked at you—what he did when he thought about you.

But he couldn’t stop.

He wanted you too much.

He stroked faster, chased the edge like a man starved, his mind spinning, your name the only coherent thing in the chaos. You, sneering. You, crying. You, moaning. You, screaming his name like it meant something.

The orgasm hit hard—like a wave crashing over him, dragging him under. His breath hitched. He groaned, low and ragged, slumped further into the couch as the aftershocks rolled through his trembling frame.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Just his heartbeat, pounding like a war drum in his ears.

And then—

Disgust.

It crept up slowly. Sour and shameful. He stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth like it could somehow take the moment back.

He felt sick.

Not because of the drugs. Not because of the high.

But because you didn’t deserve this.

Because he didn’t deserve you.

And maybe that was the worst part. That even now—after everything—he still wanted you. Still craved you. Still wanted to be close, even if it meant seeing you in someone else’s arms.

Haruchiyo Sanzu didn’t believe in love.

But if he did… it would look like this.

Like obsession. Like hunger. Like madness in his veins.

And your name in his mouth.

Haruchiyo Sanzu rubbed a hand down his face, dragging the heel of his palm across his mouth like it could erase the memory of what he’d just done. His other hand trembled faintly, twitching with the remnants of the high—though whether it was the drugs or you, he couldn’t tell anymore.

Suddenly, a shrill, high-pitched ringtone shattered the silence, stabbing through the haze in his skull.

His head snapped toward the phone vibrating violently on the table.

That phone. Only one reason it ever rang.

Work.

And when it was that ringtone?

It meant Mikey.

He scrambled, wiping his hand on the nearest towel and snatching the phone up with a speed that nearly sent the table crashing.

The screen flashed: “King.”

He took one shaky breath and answered.

“Yo, Mikey.”

His voice was too casual. Too light. He forced it through his teeth anyway, trying to slap the familiar crooked grin into his tone. Trying to sound like he hadn’t just been stroking himself raw to the image of his boss’s girl.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, finally, that cold, detached voice: “Come to my office.”

Manjiro’s voice was never loud. He didn’t need to be. The silence after his words was always enough to fill the room.

It wasn’t a request. It never was.

Haruchiyo’s mouth curved into something halfway between a smirk and a grimace.

“‘Course I’m comin’, Mikey.”

He hung up before his voice could crack.

/

The ride to Bonten was a blur of neon lights and roaring engines. His superbike carved through Tokyo’s streets like a blade, wind tearing through his open jacket, smoke still clinging to his clothes. The night air helped—cleared the static from his head, sobered the crawl of chemicals in his bloodstream. But it didn’t stop your name from echoing in the corners of his mind.

By the time he pulled into the underground lot, his hands were steady again.

Mostly.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime as he stepped into the heart of the beast.

Bonten headquarters was silent. Too silent. At this hour, only ghosts and executives moved through its marble halls. But tonight, the usual stillness had a different weight.

Haruchiyo’s boots clicked down the marble corridor until something caught his eye—Mikey’s office door, left ajar.

That never happened.

A muscle in Haruchiyo’s jaw ticked as he pushed it open.

Mikey sat slouched behind his desk, paperwork scattered around him. His silver hair was mussed, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves shoved up. He looked… frayed. Not weak, never weak, but not the untouchable king Haruchiyo bled for either.

Haruchiyo smirked faintly, out of habit more than anything. “Boss?”

Mikey didn’t look up right away. When he did, his voice came flat, detached—like he was announcing the weather.

“I’m getting married.”

The words cut clean through the air.

And Haruchiyo knew instantly.

Married. To someone else.

Not you.

It wasn’t even a thought—it was instinct. He could tell from Mikey’s voice—the absence of warmth, the absence of weight. Mikey wouldn’t sound like that if it were you. If it were you, the words would’ve carried something. Anything.

Haruchiyo’s chest caved in around the realization, bitter heat flooding his veins.

His brain—trained on bloodshed, chaos, and silence—refused to accept what it had just heard. He should’ve felt triumphant. Hell, maybe even smug. Mikey letting go of you meant you were free now. No longer wrapped around the king’s neck like a noose. No longer the soft spot that Haruchiyo resented you for.

But the image that bloomed in his mind wasn’t one of relief.

It was you—shattered. Eyes glassy. Lips trembling. Voice cracking around a scream you wouldn’t know how to let out.

Because you loved Mikey. You loved him in that all-consuming, sacrificial way. Haruchiyo had always thought it was stupid. Weak. But now the image of your heartbreak wouldn’t stop clawing at the inside of his skull.

His jaw clenched until it ached.

“The fuck you sayin’, Mikey?” Haruchiyo’s voice came out low, hoarse—barely restrained.

Mikey didn’t even flinch. “I’m getting married next week.”

Same flat tone. Same dead-eyed delivery. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t detonating every part of Haruchiyo that still felt.

Haruchiyo’s hands trembled. He wasn’t even high anymore, and still—his control was slipping.

He took a step forward.

“What about her?” he hissed. “You just gonna toss her aside like trash?”

Mikey didn’t answer. He stared—empty and unreadable.

And the silence sliced through Haruchiyo like a wire pulled taut.

He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t be this angry. Mikey was his king. His god. If Mikey decided to marry some no-name woman to fulfill some ancient wish, it wasn’t Haruchiyo’s place to say a goddamn thing.

But you—

You would be ruined.

And Haruchiyo couldn’t stop seeing it.

“It’s what Shin wanted,” Mikey said at last, gaze drifting away. “It’s the least I could do to honor him.”

The words sounded noble. But they felt like betrayal.

Haruchiyo’s eyes flared wide, fury swallowing any logic left in him. He slammed his hand against the desk hard enough to make the papers scatter.

“And what about her, Mikey?” he growled again, louder now. “What the fuck about her?!”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to his, a flicker of irritation flashing in that black void of a stare.

“You don’t question me, Akashi. I’m the boss here,” he said coldly.

Haruchiyo froze, just for a beat. The weight of his boss’s tone pressed down on him, suffocating. But it wasn’t enough. Not when his gut was on fire, not when the image of your broken face was clawing at him.

“Then maybe you should fuckin’ act like one,” he spat, venom dripping from every word. “Not some coward hiding behind his dead brother’s ghost!”

That did it. Mikey moved. Fast.

A blur of movement—fist crashing into Haruchiyo’s face with a sickening crunch. His head snapped sideways, blood exploding from his nose as he staggered back, nearly knocking over a chair. The taste hit instantly—metallic, warm, humiliating.

But he didn’t fight back. Instead, he looked up—lip split, pulse racing—and saw something that made his breath hitch.

Mikey’s expression had finally cracked.

There was no rage. No fury. Just… pain.

Real, raw heartbreak bleeding through his carefully built mask. The edges of his mouth trembled. His brows pinched. And in his eyes—those empty, abyssal eyes—was the unmistakable glint of pain.

Haruchiyo faltered.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Mikey wasn’t letting you go because he wanted to. He was burying you.

Just like he buried Shin. Draken. Emma. Baji.

And every piece of himself he couldn’t carry anymore.

The weight in the room was unbearable. Grief hung in the air like smog.

Slowly—deliberately—Haruchiyo stood straight.

He looked at Mikey. At the man he worshipped. The man who had ripped him from the jaws of death and made him a monster.

Then, in one fluid motion, Haruchiyo dropped to his knees.

“Please… don’t do this to her.” His voice was low. Strained. Like it had been ripped straight from his lungs.

“You can fucking kill me. You can burn the world if you want. But don’t hurt her, Mikey.”

The room was silent. Not even the lights buzzed now.

Only the soft rustle of scattered papers. The heavy sound of two broken men breathing in a room that had no god left.

Mikey didn’t speak.

And for the first time since he was a boy—Haruchiyo Sanzu didn’t know if the man he knelt before was still a king…

…or just another corpse waiting to rot.

Haruchiyo Sanzu’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The pills rattled against his palm before he shoved them into his mouth, swallowing dry. His throat burned, his chest ached, and the familiar static began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

The Haitani nightclub pulsed like a living beast—heat, sweat, perfume, alcohol, the roar of bass so heavy it felt like it was cracking his skull in half. Girls draped themselves over men like ornaments, and one had slithered her way beside him now, giggling, her nails grazing his thigh in a way that should’ve distracted him.

But nothing could tear his gaze away from you.

Not when you were in the back room.

Not when Mikey was there with you.

Not when he watched the moment your face shattered.

The scene carved itself into him like glass. Mikey’s voice, calm, empty, saying he was getting married to someone else.

He saw the disbelief in your eyes dissolve into something worse—betrayal. The way your body folded in on itself as though trying to contain the pain, the way your tears spilled before you could catch them. Mikey gathered you against him, wrapping you in those arms you once believed could hold up the whole world. He kissed the crown of your head like it was mercy.

Haruchiyo felt his stomach heave.

But it wasn’t jealousy. Not this time.

It was hollow. It was ruin.

He’d begged Mikey earlier. Like a fool, he’d begged.

Don’t leave her behind. Don’t abandon her. Even if you’re marrying someone else, don’t you dare let her stand alone in this fucked up world.

The words still burned his throat. He hated himself for it. It was pathetic. Weak. It wasn’t loyalty to Mikey anymore—it was weakness for you. All these years he’d told himself he was protecting you from this world, keeping you alive, keeping you safe. But now? Now he couldn’t bear the thought of you gone. Of you not here, within reach—even if it meant watching you cry in another man’s arms.

The girl beside him shifted, pressing closer, her perfume suffocating. She murmured something sweet and meaningless, her hand on his leg, tugging for his attention. And for once, Haruchiyo let her. His arm came around her shoulder, pulling her flush against his side. The gesture was intimate—too intimate for him, who never touched women like this unless it was transactional. Her breath caught in surprise, flustered.

But his eyes never left you.

Not when he tilted her chin and pressed his mouth against hers.

The kiss was hollow, mechanical—his lips moving against hers, his tongue tasting nothing but the bitterness of his own obsession. He kissed her like a weapon, not an act of passion. And when his gaze slid past her face and found yours—

That was when it hit.

You were staring. Through the tears clouding your vision, through the brokenness twisting your features, you were staring at him. The corner of your mouth trembled. Then your glare cut sharp and cold, searing through him like fire before you turned away, burying your face into Mikey’s shoulder.

Haruchiyo almost smiled against the woman’s mouth.

It was pathetic. Twisted. Ugly. But it was something.

If all he could take from you was your hate, your disgust, your rage—he’d take it. He’d hoard it. He’d carve it into his chest like scripture. Because even when it hurt like hell, it meant he still existed in your world.

Even if it was only as a shadow.

He pulled away from the woman, his pupils blown wide, the pills buzzing in his bloodstream, and he whispered into her hair like it was meant for you:

“I love you.”

And he did. In his own ruinous way, he loved you. Loved you even when every gift you’d ever placed in his hands was pain. Loved you enough to bleed himself dry just to watch you smile at another man.

That was the curse. That was the obsession.

That was Haruchiyo Sanzu.

< special part ends >

author’s note. finally dropping Sanzu’s POV, hot and messy just like him *ahem* it honestly took me almost a year to get this out–writer’s block had me in a chokehold, and this chapter was way harder than i expected. but i’m glad i pushed through because i really love how it turned out. hope you guys enjoy diving into his twisted little head as much as i (painfully) did while writing it. and thank you all so much for your patience, love +++ especially the sweet messages you guys left in my inbox while I was struggling with this part. you guys are the reason I keep writing 🖤

also, i maxed out the tag limit—so sorry if i missed anyone, promise it wasn’t intentional :(

taglist. @sleeplessreader12 @thisismarisaaa @fallensuguru @unfortunately-a-dazai-kinnie @celestica-1988 @taebaozi @tribbisweetdear @aizawap @aquamarixx @sadlyradley @gh0stgirl333 @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @ajumma @ariilovesmoney @ravyaryn @aquaberrydolphin @sakuraflower01 @nightstarbutterfly @theethy @sanzu-02 @hemmofox13 @bontensbabygirl @childesdog69 @marigoldye @lu-na-tic @hotdumplingsss @madiexuberant @nctseventeensworld @farmboisucktoes-blog @kikiuma @babxteaars

“Your two year anniversary!” You thought, hugging your knees on the large couch. It was six-thirty and you were eagerly awaiting your husband to come home and be surprised how decked out the place was. You bought red, pink and white balloons that stood on each side of the living room, your penthouse scented the apple pie aroma that was an inside tradition between you two to have with vanilla ice cream and cinnamon.

You wore Caleb’s favourite dress. The one he picked out for you. A dark red dress with gentle, bubbly, puffed sleeves with the bodice detailed in fine lace and a pink satin bow in the middle with the skirt airing out. Caleb promised he’d be home around seven-ish. You couldn’t wait to see his surprised reaction as he walked into the living room, admiring how beautiful you looked right now. You envisioned his starstruck eyes as he’d passionately kiss you. You could feel his lips on your right this second.

As you subconsciously lick your lips, a chime from your phone rang. It was a simple melody that only Caleb had on your phone. You excitedly picked up the phone to see his message, but your face fell a little.

Caleb:“Hey baby, I’m so so sorry, the fleet needs me to commence an emergency meeting. I might be a little late.”

He seemed really sorry, especially with the excessive amount of heart emojis he spammed. I sigh and glance at the clock but then I smile again. It was your anniversary night, and nothing would ruin this day. It makes the surprise more worth it.

You: “aw, it’s ok baby! Come as soon as you can safely.”

Caleb sent one more sorry emoji to show how bad he felt. You put the apple pie and the melting ice cream that you eagerly put out way too early, back in the fridge. When Caleb was close, you’d put it back on the coffee table again, along with the other snacks that you both loved sharing.

You try distracting yourself by scrolling on your phone, but all your feed presented was aesthetic surprises that you searched up in hopes of inspiration. Each reaction was cuter than the last. You found yourself smiling sadly as you glanced at the clock each ticking minute. It was now seven thirty. And Life360 didn’t seem to have notified that Caleb left.

He was an hour late. You grumbled before refreshing the life360’s screen over and over again, in hopes to see a bit of movement. You text him again.

“When are you comingg :c?” You ask. You couldn’t help it. You wanted him to be here so badly. To see how you decorated the place with yours and his favourite colours. You paced around a bit, waiting for his response. Because of the amount of biting and licking your lips you’ve done, you rush back into the bathroom to put on your lipstick and lipgloss again. You wanted to look perfect.

Fifteen minutes pass and you start to worry. You repeatedly call him, fighting unnecessary tears welling up, blurring your vision. He doesn’t answer a single call. Your bottom lip quivered as you ran your fingers down your hair again. Was Caleb coming? He wasn’t picking up any phone calls, his location seems to still be stuck in his office and you were all dolled up, waiting for him anxiously. The decorations seemed to be anticipating, with you too, as some balloons fell to the floor and others popped, scaring you so suddenly. The apple pie scent was more faint than before and your dress became more uncomfortable to sit in.

Another ten minutes go by, and the tears you were suppressing start staining and smudging the makeup you spent hours on perfecting. As you desperately called and called him, over and over, you tried calming yourself down. There was nothing to get worked up about. Until finally, Caleb’s voice comes through. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in work, I’m coming home right now.” You didn’t say anything. Just hung up.

You weren’t frantic anymore. No. You were furious. After all this time of internally panicking, Caleb was just “caught up in work.” No phone call answers, standing you up. On your anniversary night of all days. But still. You had to keep it in. What happened to nothing ruining this day? You heated up the pie. It wasn’t as fresh as you bought it, but it’d do. The ice cream was completely frozen, so you left it out in the stuffy living room.

You march back into the bathroom to try and save your face from looking ugly for him. It was now eleven o clock. Caleb was four hours late. He swore he was coming home, but where was he? You couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even bother trying to dial him. Just quietly wept to yourself, as the ice cream was now melting, again, and the apple pie just sat on the coffee table. Untouched.

You could hear the door click open and the rustling of leathered boots and heavy breathing from the front. “Pipsqueak?” Came your very late husband’s calls. You didn’t respond. Just kept sobbing. Your face that you tried your hardest to fix up was now ruined again as you buried your face into your hands, curled up on the sofa.

Caleb follows your cries, already feeling like the worst husband in the world. He trails your heartbroken voice to the living room, where all the decorations filled up the place with love. And his wife was just sniffling on the couch,“Oh my god Y/N.. was this for me?” You didn’t answer, too upset to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck.fuck.fuck.” Caleb kept repeating as he rushed towards you, hoping to cradle you in his arms. Your favourite flowers all tied in a cute bouquet, along with all the other presents he juggled carrying, fell to the floor. But you inched away. “I’m so sorry honey, I really didn’t mean to come this late. Oh fuck.” He whispered. But you just stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. Where all the food you ordered a long time ago just laid there.

Caleb could feel the immense guilt crashing down on him as he marveled around at the decorations you hung up, most definitely while smiling, envisioning that him and you would be feeding each other food. But now he ruined everything. You waited so long for him and now you couldn’t stop crying. Caleb stepped in closer, hoping to be able to pull you by the waist and embrace you, but you dodge him.

“I was waiting for so long..” you half-whispered. Leaving Caleb even more mortified. “Baby, I really didn’t mean to.. you look so beautiful tonight. It’s not midnight yet. We can still celebrate.” He said it with such hope and desperation to not end what was supposed to be the perfect night, like this. You, who was just about to retreat to your room, and wash off your makeup with tears just exhale through your nose as you bring the apple pie and ice cream that was accompanying you in your anticipation.

“There’s a good girl, please don’t cry. We can still celebrate like this. I can still fix it.” He encouraged, but you ignored him, you even ignored how he called you your favourite nick name. That’s when he knew, he really fucked things up. Badly.

The once romantic atmosphere dissipated along with the scent of apple pie. You didn’t feel like this day was special anymore. You stabbed the pie, with its contents oozing out, not much to your care. Caleb sat beside you, really trying to talk to you about your day, rubbing your knuckles softly with his hand,you were too tired to pull away. You knew you were being unreasonable. It wasn’t like Caleb chose to be late. But it still stung. How after a full day of work, on your anniversary, he still had the audacity to come home late.

Caleb exhaled. “You can be mad at me. Yell at me, hit me, but seeing you ignore me breaks my heart.” You give a wobbly smile. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Work happens. You’re a busy man.” You try to reassure, so he didn’t press on like this. “But you don’t seem to think it’s alright.” Caleb’s voice drops to a whisper. You grab his plate and yours, none of you finishing even a slice of the pie, before covering the remaining pieces in a dish cover. “I’ll clean all of this up tomorrow. I’m going to take a shower.” And you just quietly left, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Fuck..” Caleb thought over and over again as he dishevelled his hair again. He could feel his heart shatter as you just gave him a soft smile. Like everything was fine. Like you weren’t just crying. Caleb really did try making it up to her. But his fucking job, always inconvenient at possibly the worst times. All these soldiers and they couldn’t even do their fucking job right? Need the colonel to guide and help them step by step? Did they not know that his wife was much more important?

But it wasn’t just the fleet’s fault. It was the colonel’s as well. And he knew that. Why did he even go to work today? While you were at your own job, he could’ve surprised you instead. Maybe he still could fix this. In his own way. Not by relighting the candles or anything, you deserved something much more.

Meanwhile as you tossed your folded clothes from the closet onto the bathroom tiles, and slowly started to undress yourself, a sharp exhale you let out makes your body shiver. You step into the shower, letting the scalding heat be your only focus right now. You shouldn’t have reacted like that. Just making Caleb look like the bad guy.

Tears, mixing along with the water falling all over your body. Your makeup that was smudged, washed out, leaving you bare faced.

You close your eyes, hot tears squeezing down, mingling with the water raining down on you. You can feel the door creak a little and you get the odd shiver someone was behind you, the clumsy fumbling of a belt and trousers being kicked off with a coat being carelessly shrugged off. Before you could turn around, A large arm wraps around your waist before gently guiding you to a rock-hard chest.

You strain your neck, trying to turn around to see who it is, although, who else would it be? Caleb’s arm, unyielding, pressed your back into his bare, toned chest. Bodies stuck to each other. Your stubbornness wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and rubbing his nose against it. “I’m so sorry my pretty baby. How about we celebrate like this, yeah? It’s not much, but at least we can be together?” You turn towards him with the lodged lump in your throat. Tears that you swore you ran out of, start puffing your eyes again as he embraces you.

Your arms are folded and your hands are placed on his pecs with your head and wet hair placed on his shoulder. He rubs the small of your back up and down. Suddenly his hand moves a little lower, creeping to your ass cheeks before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you’re upset pips, how about you let Caleb make you forget, hm?” You sniff in response to bring his head that was perched on your shoulder blade, to your cheek, gently peppering kisses all over your face. He didn’t mean to be late. Now he was apologizing profusely. You loved him, how he could calm you down and fix his mistakes.

You look up at his eyes, the ridiculous height difference making you tilt your entire head up, to see his widened eyes gleaming in the dim bathroom light. He pouted his lips and puffed his pink cheeks out a little. Damn it Caleb. He knew you couldn’t resist his “puppy face” as you’ve called it countless times.

His hands that’ve killed and been ruthless to many, were gentle and careful as they cradled your face. He plants kisses to where the tears left faint trails on your skin. “So..beautiful..my..pretty..girl..” each word was quickly panted as he pulled back and went back down for each kiss. He admired you.

When he pulls away for a brief second to move on to the next unkissed skin, you pull him down to you by his chain he never takes off and smashes your lips to him. Rough, full with anger at him, with his soft lips taking over yours as it mixed with your salty tears and the running shower droplets. He presses his chest into your breasts as he guides you to the shower wall.

Then, the chaste kisses turn deeper as your tongue forcefully parts his lips, meeting his tongue as well. They dance around as the very little distance between us, turns into no distance. The taste of each other makes you moan into each others mouth as his tongue caresses yours gently, filled with love.

Your arms that were just softly pressed against his pecs now envelope him by the neck and his greedy caresses the side of your torso, top from bottom, up and down. It’s clear he stops himself before moving even lower.

How he still manages to make your entire body tingle from his touch, to this day is so endearing. He claims your mouth, winning the little play combat your tongues did as they danced around his mouth. The warm bulge coming from between your legs makes you clench your legs together as the arousal spreads throughout your body, losing yourself in him.

You can feel Caleb’s hard cock grinding against the lower part of your stomach, his desperation in your mouth was like he was kissing you one last time, like you were oxygen to him. His hands that were gentle as they felt your hips, now were clenching your ass cheeks so tightly it was a little painful. His body was vibrating hard with excitement arousing inside him.

“Happy anniversary my love.” Caleb moans in your mouth before pulling back as he peppers open mouth kisses down your jaw. But you needed him closer. As he starts sliding down your body, leaving mark after mark, you lift and wrap your legs around his waist with your hand tangled in his damp, chocolate brown hair.

Caleb’s hand supports you by sliding his hand painfully to slow down your thigh before hoisting you up with a slight grunt. Caleb grinds his cock into your core, multiple times, teasing you as you toss your head back and sigh in pleasure.

“Look at you, you can’t be mad at me for this long no?” Caleb rasps out with his free hand circling and then flicking your hard nipple. “Fuck Caleb..” you gasp out. Caleb gives a mischievous smirk as his erection was dripping wet, mixed with your juice that was also spilling out. “That’s it baby.” He growls, trying to keep a steady tone.

His shaft strokes the folds of your moist hole, the pressure being sweet and in a way, soothing against your throbbing clit. This feeling alone could end you. The way he did it with such teasing, soft but then painfully hard all at once. You couldn’t be mad at him. He loves you so fucking much it hurt. And this? This was one of his presents, and consonance gifts for you.

When Caleb reaches his hand between your now open thighs, he groans as his fingers are covered in wet, sticky juice that was only for him. It was like a gushing waterfall that would slowly thrash down harder.

With his index and middle finger, he scoops the arousal that was dripping down at your core before he brings his fingers to hips lips and sucks on them like it was a lollipop. You revel at him, his eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back as he moans.

“Fuck, you’re always so damn sweet.” he rasps out. “Let me fuck you, please, I’m making it up to you.” His desperation and begging makes you can’t help but nervously giggle and tease him.

“Is this better for me or you?” You pant out, a little unsteady. But you’re also desperate for this. How he needs you so badly makes your thighs and folds clench together tightly. You both wanted this. Even though today was supposed to be all fluff and heartwarming, the day changed and morphed into something else.

“Please, do it.” You groan out as he playfully squeezed your boobs. Your fingernails dig into the crook of his neck and he rubs his cock against your lower stomach even more. He’s so unbelievably hard it’s a thrill. Was he in pain? Maybe you just had to give him consolation that you couldn’t be mad at the colonel who tried his hardest to be here. And here he was.

You stroke his length gently, your palm twisted over the top before descending down. Moans escape his lips as you rub up and down. He then firmly grabs your wrist to stop the motion before he kneels down, like he did when he proposed to you two years ago today. His hand ghosts your leg all the way down wraps around your ankle. He then lifts up your leg and puts it over his shoulder, your Center fully exposed to him at this angle.

You stumble a bit at the little balance before he leads you to the shower bench that was beside you and pressed a kiss on both your inner thighs. Caleb’s nose comes closer, his knees still placed on the ground. He can clearly smell and salivate his feast as he comes closer and his breath dances into your swollen clit.

Your husband’s hands travel up your thighs, gently squeezing them as both thumbs from each side spread open your folds. His mischievous amethyst eyes gleam and dance around as he looks up to you. It was ironic how he was apparently “sorry” by that look.

How he licks up like a dog at your inner core is more desperate, like he was scared his meal was going to be taken away at any moment. With the curl of his skilled tongue, he coaxes even more wetness to drip into his mouth and swallow it satisfyingly. You writhe as he fucks you so beautifully with his tongue.

He pulses strokes with his flat, top part of his tongue against the aching heat and then captivating it in his filled mouth, sucking and swirling circular patterns that make your head also, swirl around. His fingers that still held the doors to your entrance tease and drum at you as he laps you up.

Until he pulls away and your whine slowly is replaced by a moan as his ridiculously long fingers slip into your heat like the right key to open the right door. Your head falls back and you cry out at the tight fit. You clench around his fingers, forbidding them, him, not to leave. But he then draws his fingers out of you, his knuckles dragging across your gummy inner walls, just how you like it, you let them slip out before they jab right back in, adding more pressure from each pump of his fingers.

Your arousal drips down his hand, gushing like a waterfall that was barricaded for far too long. The squishy, wet noises it makes makes you feel a little disgusted, but you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to care. The two fingers that skilfully went in and out were already wrapped around tight hole, but then your folds have to accommodate more company as he adds another finger.

You’re overstimulated with the pleasure that gushed through you to the point where you numb the rest of your body except the gaping tension between your legs. Caleb puts on an innocent face as his free hand keeps squeezing your leg, like that’ll pump out even more juice.

You couldn’t take it anymore and you entangled your fingers in his damp hair and dragged his head into and between your legs, your hips latched onto his mouth. He lets out a moan as he lets you take the wheel and ride his face.

He’s spent countless nights exploring and discovering your weak spots, you could say he was qualified in them. Against him, you’re a helpless pipsqueak at his mercy. A colonel’s fingers are skilled enough to know how to get you to mewl, cry out and moan.

You then feel a heat building slowly inside you. And you stifle a moan when you realize that it’s not just your orgasm. You were going to cum all over his fingers, and face. Your legs start twitching before shaking uncontrollably. You can’t hold anything any longer, you were going to release.

“Ah~Caleb!” You try moaning out before your knee buckles. But then you feel yourself being caught by his Gravity evol. The Gravity holds you up, allowing him to continue his desperate feast in your glistening core as his power cradled you, letting it all out. Pleasure erupts inside your body as you grind yourself against his face and fingers. But he continues to work through, pulling pumps and waves after one another out of you.

As you come back from your whited out vision, you tilt your head down at Caleb, with his fingers still sliding up and down inside you, trying to squeeze everything from your inside and walls out. He’s a mess from you. With your white fluid all over his mouth, dripping against his jaw and splattered across his beautiful, toned abs.

But instead of being disgusted, like he was never, you can tell just how turned on he is, probably painful from his last bulge you tried calming down. He looks at you like he wants to finish you, devour you whole.

You whine his name again, overstimulated before he finally removes himself from your legs after licking up all the fluid remains from his mouth and finger. He releases his evol all of a sudden and you collapse into him. Your legs feel like jelly as you sink into his warm embrace, your head resting on the crook of his shoulders as you use every little strength you had to hold onto him weakly.

He pulls you in, sitting down on the shower bench you were just on and lifting you effortlessly astride his throbbing red cock. “Good girl, I’ve got you.” He murmurs before capturing your mouth into a sweet kiss as reward and caresses his hand that just was inside you, up and down on the small of your back.

You both could tell this wasn’t overcast but you needed some time to recuperate. So he presses kisses to your lips, taking the lead that you didn’t have the strength to claim. His arms wrap you closer to him and your closed thighs sit on top of his man spreading position. This was the man you married.

Not the one who purposely tries to come late, but the one who knows how to be forgiven and doesn’t push you too far. He cares so deeply about your feelings that he bought a beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers all in a bouquet, with boxes of designers and cute trinkets he knows you’d like all stacked up on top of each other. He really didn’t want to end the night on a low note.

He can sense the second your arousal is awakened again, wanting to suffer with joy again at how his skilled hands can make your body controlled like a puppet. Your legs start kneeling on top of his thighs and they roll again, the blazing desire burning up again for each other.

Caleb wants to make sure you’re safe and ready, despite your body’s yearning. “Alright take this slow.” He murmurs softly as his hand find your hips again and lifts you up higher. He lines you up with his cock and your entrance. It sends electric shocks through your body as another whine escapes your lips.

Like he’s prepping you, he plants a kiss on your belly button and guides you down on him, slowly.

He was forgiven, all was forgiven. What mattered is that he was here with you. Cherishing you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Which, you were. He loves you. So damn much it hurts to see you cry, cry for him. How you lovingly did everything to surprise him, and he ruined it.

With every sigh you let out, he feels better that you’re better. His three fingers and his face wasn’t enough to prepare you for the blazing stretch you felt as his thick cock splits you open.

He’s thicker than those three fingers, you feel every ridge and wall touching him as he enters, wantonly panting as he takes claim of your tingling body, until there’s no space, all taken up inside you as you practically are punching the air out of you as you struggle to breath. He’s so thick, long, hard. He always has been, but it still pleasantly surprises you.

But he always has more to give, keeping your head guessing and spinning with each touch sliding in and in. “I never want to see you cry. Because of me.” He heavily pants but so sincerely it makes you want to cry at his sweet words. His red cheeks are absolutely flushed, and his sweat pours down with the water that seemingly feels cold compared to this feeling.

His gaze lowers to where he’s latched onto you, connecting the both of you. Caleb has wonder and admiration written all over his face. He lets out a low groan as he watches your hole swallow him with ease. “It didn’t take much to turn him on.” You think to yourself. “It’s a perfect fit, you were made for me.” He coos. “Look how beautifully you’re taking this.” He moans out, accompanying him as he praises you.

He could sweet talk you up, no matter how mad you were at him. This would and couldn’t ever get old, how he fills you up. You could just die from this feeling. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” He chokes out and his dick throbs inside you. He growled his fingers flexing and tightening the hold he had on your hips and then pulling you down all the way, the last few inches in.

Your hips buck out at the intrusion and you both yell out at the pleasure, the pain, the intensity of all of it. The shower echos it and it feels like the water spraying out falls still. Time moves slowly. And finally, impaled to shock of it all, you writhe, squirming against him, your walls spark around his cock, welcoming him back in, you were alright again. Things happen, shit doesn’t go as planned, but he’s all you had in this world, and he’ll love you endlessly.

“I only thought of you, the whole damn meeting I was called upon on, when quickly scrambling to buy you gifts, the car ride home, it was too long of a time.” Caleb pants. “You’re all I can think about, even all these years later, you fill my brain. The thought of me being deep into you like this, my dick just bulges hard.” Caleb explains, his cock lifting you up just as slowly as the damn descent.

“I’m sorry, so damn sorry that you were crying because of me. That’s the last thing I need to see. Next time, hit me, scream, be a fucking brat. Don’t you ever pretend everything is okay. It breaks my heart.” Your husband growls, effortlessly lifting you up and down, maintaining the slow, painful pace.

In any other circumstance, you would likely be voicing your frustration about how much he’s teasing you. But at this moment, the sensation of his strong heartbeats beneath your hand is more than enough. The very tangible feeling of him being inside you is sufficient as well.

The realization that he might never increase his pace begins to settle in. Perhaps he truly intends to keep you here indefinitely, stretched over his cock, him gliding along your walls and creating a delightful chaos within you for all time. The thought makes your walls flutter around him.

Even with the agonizingly slow rhythm, your urgent moans quickly fill the space. Caleb remains silent, observing as you lose all sense of control. He notices every ‘oh’ that escapes your lips, every tremor of your thighs, the way your nails dig into his back. You are utterly consumed by the exquisite sensation of him.

“I’m not even thrusting into you yet, and you’re already losing your mind on my cock,” he teases. A part of me feels embarrassed by how much he affects me. But that feeling fades when he feels this good.Caleb appears pleased with your response and begins to thrust upward to meet you. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce from the impact. He strikes a spot that makes your head tilt back in pleasure.

Finally, you think to yourself as you widen your legs, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.The once intimate silence is now filled with the lewd sounds of passion. The noise of your wet hair slapping against your back, your desperate moans, Caleb’s grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound of your bodies colliding, the wet noises from where you’re impaled on him.

The unmistakable tightening deep within you signals that you’re on the brink of breaking apart.“That’s it,” he murmurs as he feels your walls constricting around him. “Show me how much you were mad at me.” His lips find the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, sucking gently with an open-mouthed kiss. On his next thrust, he bites down on your flesh, hard.

Your whole body jolts - the combination of pleasure and pain overwhelms your senses. And then you’re falling. He allows you to lose yourself completely.Your whole body convulses - the blend of pleasure and pain overwhelms your mind. Then, you find yourself falling. He emits a loud, pained groan as he feels your walls pulling him in, spasming uncontrollably.

Spurred on by the rhythm of Caleb’s hips, your waves of ecstasy continue as he stirs your insides. Your cries escape you, powerless against the mind-altering pleasure that shows no mercy. Wave after wave - it feels endless.Caleb growls as his gaze begins to blur. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his neck straining from the effort to keep his composure. It takes all his strength to refrain from releasing himself inside you at this moment.

Caleb grips your chin, holding your cheeks firmly as he moves your face left and right, assessing your blissed-out expression. He demands your full attention even as you ride the waves of your orgasm. You wonder if he’s being rough on purpose or if he’s losing the careful control he usually maintains.

Feeling you break around him must be overwhelming. Perhaps his desire for you is taking over his mind.

Finally, round after round of this blissful torture, you croak out something incoherent and then collapse onto his chest. He stumbles back a little and embraces you lovingly. You can’t manage to say anything, just humming with contentment and tiredness washed over you. Caleb sighed, planting sweet kisses on your wet, disheveled hair before swooping you up, your thighs rested on the lower part of his arm, and your back on his upper hand.

He turned off the shower and placed you into the separated bathtub, delicately placing you down like you’d break any minute. The water from the shower was nothing compared to the damp towel Caleb wrung out and gently pressed onto your thighs and around your clit, washing off the mess. Then, after pressing the same towel onto his chest, all over his mouth, and his satisfied cock, your husband lifted you back up again and walked towards your bed.

“My pretty girl. You did so amazing.” He whispered inside your ear. Instead of just lying down, he quickly, and lazily, pulled on some boxers while he very carefully pulled one of his oversized shirts on your head, covering your torso and all the way until your thigh.

“You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair, you know.” He playfully scolds before you groan out. “And who did that to me?” But he props himself up, getting a better look at you. “Hungry? Should we finish that pie?” You slowly nod as he briefly leaves you alone and comes back with the ice cream, pie, and a candle.

You sit up as he cuts a slice. He looks at his phone that was tossed aside long ago. “Huh, look at that. It’s two in the morning.” He grins before leaning in. “But, we can still celebrate. It’s only Friday-now Saturday.” You shove a piece of the pie that was dipped in ice cream into his mouth.

“Happy anniversary Y/N.” he softly whispers. “Happy anniversary, Caleb.” You reply back.

“Your two year anniversary!” You thought, hugging your knees on the large couch. It was six-thirty and you were eagerly awaiting your husband to come home and be surprised how decked out the place was. You bought red, pink and white balloons that stood on each side of the living room, your penthouse scented the apple pie aroma that was an inside tradition between you two to have with vanilla ice cream and cinnamon.

You wore Caleb’s favourite dress. The one he picked out for you. A dark red dress with gentle, bubbly, puffed sleeves with the bodice detailed in fine lace and a pink satin bow in the middle with the skirt airing out. Caleb promised he’d be home around seven-ish. You couldn’t wait to see his surprised reaction as he walked into the living room, admiring how beautiful you looked right now. You envisioned his starstruck eyes as he’d passionately kiss you. You could feel his lips on your right this second.

As you subconsciously lick your lips, a chime from your phone rang. It was a simple melody that only Caleb had on your phone. You excitedly picked up the phone to see his message, but your face fell a little.

Caleb:“Hey baby, I’m so so sorry, the fleet needs me to commence an emergency meeting. I might be a little late.”

He seemed really sorry, especially with the excessive amount of heart emojis he spammed. I sigh and glance at the clock but then I smile again. It was your anniversary night, and nothing would ruin this day. It makes the surprise more worth it.

You: “aw, it’s ok baby! Come as soon as you can safely.”

Caleb sent one more sorry emoji to show how bad he felt. You put the apple pie and the melting ice cream that you eagerly put out way too early, back in the fridge. When Caleb was close, you’d put it back on the coffee table again, along with the other snacks that you both loved sharing.

You try distracting yourself by scrolling on your phone, but all your feed presented was aesthetic surprises that you searched up in hopes of inspiration. Each reaction was cuter than the last. You found yourself smiling sadly as you glanced at the clock each ticking minute. It was now seven thirty. And Life360 didn’t seem to have notified that Caleb left.

He was an hour late. You grumbled before refreshing the life360’s screen over and over again, in hopes to see a bit of movement. You text him again.

“When are you comingg :c?” You ask. You couldn’t help it. You wanted him to be here so badly. To see how you decorated the place with yours and his favourite colours. You paced around a bit, waiting for his response. Because of the amount of biting and licking your lips you’ve done, you rush back into the bathroom to put on your lipstick and lipgloss again. You wanted to look perfect.

Fifteen minutes pass and you start to worry. You repeatedly call him, fighting unnecessary tears welling up, blurring your vision. He doesn’t answer a single call. Your bottom lip quivered as you ran your fingers down your hair again. Was Caleb coming? He wasn’t picking up any phone calls, his location seems to still be stuck in his office and you were all dolled up, waiting for him anxiously. The decorations seemed to be anticipating, with you too, as some balloons fell to the floor and others popped, scaring you so suddenly. The apple pie scent was more faint than before and your dress became more uncomfortable to sit in.

Another ten minutes go by, and the tears you were suppressing start staining and smudging the makeup you spent hours on perfecting. As you desperately called and called him, over and over, you tried calming yourself down. There was nothing to get worked up about. Until finally, Caleb’s voice comes through. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in work, I’m coming home right now.” You didn’t say anything. Just hung up.

You weren’t frantic anymore. No. You were furious. After all this time of internally panicking, Caleb was just “caught up in work.” No phone call answers, standing you up. On your anniversary night of all days. But still. You had to keep it in. What happened to nothing ruining this day? You heated up the pie. It wasn’t as fresh as you bought it, but it’d do. The ice cream was completely frozen, so you left it out in the stuffy living room.

You march back into the bathroom to try and save your face from looking ugly for him. It was now eleven o clock. Caleb was four hours late. He swore he was coming home, but where was he? You couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even bother trying to dial him. Just quietly wept to yourself, as the ice cream was now melting, again, and the apple pie just sat on the coffee table. Untouched.

You could hear the door click open and the rustling of leathered boots and heavy breathing from the front. “Pipsqueak?” Came your very late husband’s calls. You didn’t respond. Just kept sobbing. Your face that you tried your hardest to fix up was now ruined again as you buried your face into your hands, curled up on the sofa.

Caleb follows your cries, already feeling like the worst husband in the world. He trails your heartbroken voice to the living room, where all the decorations filled up the place with love. And his wife was just sniffling on the couch,“Oh my god Y/N.. was this for me?” You didn’t answer, too upset to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck.fuck.fuck.” Caleb kept repeating as he rushed towards you, hoping to cradle you in his arms. Your favourite flowers all tied in a cute bouquet, along with all the other presents he juggled carrying, fell to the floor. But you inched away. “I’m so sorry honey, I really didn’t mean to come this late. Oh fuck.” He whispered. But you just stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. Where all the food you ordered a long time ago just laid there.

Caleb could feel the immense guilt crashing down on him as he marveled around at the decorations you hung up, most definitely while smiling, envisioning that him and you would be feeding each other food. But now he ruined everything. You waited so long for him and now you couldn’t stop crying. Caleb stepped in closer, hoping to be able to pull you by the waist and embrace you, but you dodge him.

“I was waiting for so long..” you half-whispered. Leaving Caleb even more mortified. “Baby, I really didn’t mean to.. you look so beautiful tonight. It’s not midnight yet. We can still celebrate.” He said it with such hope and desperation to not end what was supposed to be the perfect night, like this. You, who was just about to retreat to your room, and wash off your makeup with tears just exhale through your nose as you bring the apple pie and ice cream that was accompanying you in your anticipation.

“There’s a good girl, please don’t cry. We can still celebrate like this. I can still fix it.” He encouraged, but you ignored him, you even ignored how he called you your favourite nick name. That’s when he knew, he really fucked things up. Badly.

The once romantic atmosphere dissipated along with the scent of apple pie. You didn’t feel like this day was special anymore. You stabbed the pie, with its contents oozing out, not much to your care. Caleb sat beside you, really trying to talk to you about your day, rubbing your knuckles softly with his hand,you were too tired to pull away. You knew you were being unreasonable. It wasn’t like Caleb chose to be late. But it still stung. How after a full day of work, on your anniversary, he still had the audacity to come home late.

Caleb exhaled. “You can be mad at me. Yell at me, hit me, but seeing you ignore me breaks my heart.” You give a wobbly smile. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Work happens. You’re a busy man.” You try to reassure, so he didn’t press on like this. “But you don’t seem to think it’s alright.” Caleb’s voice drops to a whisper. You grab his plate and yours, none of you finishing even a slice of the pie, before covering the remaining pieces in a dish cover. “I’ll clean all of this up tomorrow. I’m going to take a shower.” And you just quietly left, closing the bedroom door behind you.

“Fuck..” Caleb thought over and over again as he dishevelled his hair again. He could feel his heart shatter as you just gave him a soft smile. Like everything was fine. Like you weren’t just crying. Caleb really did try making it up to her. But his fucking job, always inconvenient at possibly the worst times. All these soldiers and they couldn’t even do their fucking job right? Need the colonel to guide and help them step by step? Did they not know that his wife was much more important?

But it wasn’t just the fleet’s fault. It was the colonel’s as well. And he knew that. Why did he even go to work today? While you were at your own job, he could’ve surprised you instead. Maybe he still could fix this. In his own way. Not by relighting the candles or anything, you deserved something much more.

Meanwhile as you tossed your folded clothes from the closet onto the bathroom tiles, and slowly started to undress yourself, a sharp exhale you let out makes your body shiver. You step into the shower, letting the scalding heat be your only focus right now. You shouldn’t have reacted like that. Just making Caleb look like the bad guy.

Tears, mixing along with the water falling all over your body. Your makeup that was smudged, washed out, leaving you bare faced.

You close your eyes, hot tears squeezing down, mingling with the water raining down on you. You can feel the door creak a little and you get the odd shiver someone was behind you, the clumsy fumbling of a belt and trousers being kicked off with a coat being carelessly shrugged off. Before you could turn around, A large arm wraps around your waist before gently guiding you to a rock-hard chest.

You strain your neck, trying to turn around to see who it is, although, who else would it be? Caleb’s arm, unyielding, pressed your back into his bare, toned chest. Bodies stuck to each other. Your stubbornness wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you.

Caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and rubbing his nose against it. “I’m so sorry my pretty baby. How about we celebrate like this, yeah? It’s not much, but at least we can be together?” You turn towards him with the lodged lump in your throat. Tears that you swore you ran out of, start puffing your eyes again as he embraces you.

Your arms are folded and your hands are placed on his pecs with your head and wet hair placed on his shoulder. He rubs the small of your back up and down. Suddenly his hand moves a little lower, creeping to your ass cheeks before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know you’re upset pips, how about you let Caleb make you forget, hm?” You sniff in response to bring his head that was perched on your shoulder blade, to your cheek, gently peppering kisses all over your face. He didn’t mean to be late. Now he was apologizing profusely. You loved him, how he could calm you down and fix his mistakes.

You look up at his eyes, the ridiculous height difference making you tilt your entire head up, to see his widened eyes gleaming in the dim bathroom light. He pouted his lips and puffed his pink cheeks out a little. Damn it Caleb. He knew you couldn’t resist his “puppy face” as you’ve called it countless times.

His hands that’ve killed and been ruthless to many, were gentle and careful as they cradled your face. He plants kisses to where the tears left faint trails on your skin. “So..beautiful..my..pretty..girl..” each word was quickly panted as he pulled back and went back down for each kiss. He admired you.

When he pulls away for a brief second to move on to the next unkissed skin, you pull him down to you by his chain he never takes off and smashes your lips to him. Rough, full with anger at him, with his soft lips taking over yours as it mixed with your salty tears and the running shower droplets. He presses his chest into your breasts as he guides you to the shower wall.

Then, the chaste kisses turn deeper as your tongue forcefully parts his lips, meeting his tongue as well. They dance around as the very little distance between us, turns into no distance. The taste of each other makes you moan into each others mouth as his tongue caresses yours gently, filled with love.

Your arms that were just softly pressed against his pecs now envelope him by the neck and his greedy caresses the side of your torso, top from bottom, up and down. It’s clear he stops himself before moving even lower.

How he still manages to make your entire body tingle from his touch, to this day is so endearing. He claims your mouth, winning the little play combat your tongues did as they danced around his mouth. The warm bulge coming from between your legs makes you clench your legs together as the arousal spreads throughout your body, losing yourself in him.

You can feel Caleb’s hard cock grinding against the lower part of your stomach, his desperation in your mouth was like he was kissing you one last time, like you were oxygen to him. His hands that were gentle as they felt your hips, now were clenching your ass cheeks so tightly it was a little painful. His body was vibrating hard with excitement arousing inside him.

“Happy anniversary my love.” Caleb moans in your mouth before pulling back as he peppers open mouth kisses down your jaw. But you needed him closer. As he starts sliding down your body, leaving mark after mark, you lift and wrap your legs around his waist with your hand tangled in his damp, chocolate brown hair.

Caleb’s hand supports you by sliding his hand painfully to slow down your thigh before hoisting you up with a slight grunt. Caleb grinds his cock into your core, multiple times, teasing you as you toss your head back and sigh in pleasure.

“Look at you, you can’t be mad at me for this long no?” Caleb rasps out with his free hand circling and then flicking your hard nipple. “Fuck Caleb..” you gasp out. Caleb gives a mischievous smirk as his erection was dripping wet, mixed with your juice that was also spilling out. “That’s it baby.” He growls, trying to keep a steady tone.

His shaft strokes the folds of your moist hole, the pressure being sweet and in a way, soothing against your throbbing clit. This feeling alone could end you. The way he did it with such teasing, soft but then painfully hard all at once. You couldn’t be mad at him. He loves you so fucking much it hurt. And this? This was one of his presents, and consonance gifts for you.

When Caleb reaches his hand between your now open thighs, he groans as his fingers are covered in wet, sticky juice that was only for him. It was like a gushing waterfall that would slowly thrash down harder.

With his index and middle finger, he scoops the arousal that was dripping down at your core before he brings his fingers to hips lips and sucks on them like it was a lollipop. You revel at him, his eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back as he moans.

“Fuck, you’re always so damn sweet.” he rasps out. “Let me fuck you, please, I’m making it up to you.” His desperation and begging makes you can’t help but nervously giggle and tease him.

“Is this better for me or you?” You pant out, a little unsteady. But you’re also desperate for this. How he needs you so badly makes your thighs and folds clench together tightly. You both wanted this. Even though today was supposed to be all fluff and heartwarming, the day changed and morphed into something else.

“Please, do it.” You groan out as he playfully squeezed your boobs. Your fingernails dig into the crook of his neck and he rubs his cock against your lower stomach even more. He’s so unbelievably hard it’s a thrill. Was he in pain? Maybe you just had to give him consolation that you couldn’t be mad at the colonel who tried his hardest to be here. And here he was.

You stroke his length gently, your palm twisted over the top before descending down. Moans escape his lips as you rub up and down. He then firmly grabs your wrist to stop the motion before he kneels down, like he did when he proposed to you two years ago today. His hand ghosts your leg all the way down wraps around your ankle. He then lifts up your leg and puts it over his shoulder, your Center fully exposed to him at this angle.

You stumble a bit at the little balance before he leads you to the shower bench that was beside you and pressed a kiss on both your inner thighs. Caleb’s nose comes closer, his knees still placed on the ground. He can clearly smell and salivate his feast as he comes closer and his breath dances into your swollen clit.

Your husband’s hands travel up your thighs, gently squeezing them as both thumbs from each side spread open your folds. His mischievous amethyst eyes gleam and dance around as he looks up to you. It was ironic how he was apparently “sorry” by that look.

How he licks up like a dog at your inner core is more desperate, like he was scared his meal was going to be taken away at any moment. With the curl of his skilled tongue, he coaxes even more wetness to drip into his mouth and swallow it satisfyingly. You writhe as he fucks you so beautifully with his tongue.

He pulses strokes with his flat, top part of his tongue against the aching heat and then captivating it in his filled mouth, sucking and swirling circular patterns that make your head also, swirl around. His fingers that still held the doors to your entrance tease and drum at you as he laps you up.

Until he pulls away and your whine slowly is replaced by a moan as his ridiculously long fingers slip into your heat like the right key to open the right door. Your head falls back and you cry out at the tight fit. You clench around his fingers, forbidding them, him, not to leave. But he then draws his fingers out of you, his knuckles dragging across your gummy inner walls, just how you like it, you let them slip out before they jab right back in, adding more pressure from each pump of his fingers.

Your arousal drips down his hand, gushing like a waterfall that was barricaded for far too long. The squishy, wet noises it makes makes you feel a little disgusted, but you were too overwhelmed with pleasure to care. The two fingers that skilfully went in and out were already wrapped around tight hole, but then your folds have to accommodate more company as he adds another finger.

You’re overstimulated with the pleasure that gushed through you to the point where you numb the rest of your body except the gaping tension between your legs. Caleb puts on an innocent face as his free hand keeps squeezing your leg, like that’ll pump out even more juice.

You couldn’t take it anymore and you entangled your fingers in his damp hair and dragged his head into and between your legs, your hips latched onto his mouth. He lets out a moan as he lets you take the wheel and ride his face.

He’s spent countless nights exploring and discovering your weak spots, you could say he was qualified in them. Against him, you’re a helpless pipsqueak at his mercy. A colonel’s fingers are skilled enough to know how to get you to mewl, cry out and moan.

You then feel a heat building slowly inside you. And you stifle a moan when you realize that it’s not just your orgasm. You were going to cum all over his fingers, and face. Your legs start twitching before shaking uncontrollably. You can’t hold anything any longer, you were going to release.

“Ah~Caleb!” You try moaning out before your knee buckles. But then you feel yourself being caught by his Gravity evol. The Gravity holds you up, allowing him to continue his desperate feast in your glistening core as his power cradled you, letting it all out. Pleasure erupts inside your body as you grind yourself against his face and fingers. But he continues to work through, pulling pumps and waves after one another out of you.

As you come back from your whited out vision, you tilt your head down at Caleb, with his fingers still sliding up and down inside you, trying to squeeze everything from your inside and walls out. He’s a mess from you. With your white fluid all over his mouth, dripping against his jaw and splattered across his beautiful, toned abs.

But instead of being disgusted, like he was never, you can tell just how turned on he is, probably painful from his last bulge you tried calming down. He looks at you like he wants to finish you, devour you whole.

You whine his name again, overstimulated before he finally removes himself from your legs after licking up all the fluid remains from his mouth and finger. He releases his evol all of a sudden and you collapse into him. Your legs feel like jelly as you sink into his warm embrace, your head resting on the crook of his shoulders as you use every little strength you had to hold onto him weakly.

He pulls you in, sitting down on the shower bench you were just on and lifting you effortlessly astride his throbbing red cock. “Good girl, I’ve got you.” He murmurs before capturing your mouth into a sweet kiss as reward and caresses his hand that just was inside you, up and down on the small of your back.

You both could tell this wasn’t overcast but you needed some time to recuperate. So he presses kisses to your lips, taking the lead that you didn’t have the strength to claim. His arms wrap you closer to him and your closed thighs sit on top of his man spreading position. This was the man you married.

Not the one who purposely tries to come late, but the one who knows how to be forgiven and doesn’t push you too far. He cares so deeply about your feelings that he bought a beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers all in a bouquet, with boxes of designers and cute trinkets he knows you’d like all stacked up on top of each other. He really didn’t want to end the night on a low note.

He can sense the second your arousal is awakened again, wanting to suffer with joy again at how his skilled hands can make your body controlled like a puppet. Your legs start kneeling on top of his thighs and they roll again, the blazing desire burning up again for each other.

Caleb wants to make sure you’re safe and ready, despite your body’s yearning. “Alright take this slow.” He murmurs softly as his hand find your hips again and lifts you up higher. He lines you up with his cock and your entrance. It sends electric shocks through your body as another whine escapes your lips.

Like he’s prepping you, he plants a kiss on your belly button and guides you down on him, slowly.

He was forgiven, all was forgiven. What mattered is that he was here with you. Cherishing you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. Which, you were. He loves you. So damn much it hurts to see you cry, cry for him. How you lovingly did everything to surprise him, and he ruined it.

With every sigh you let out, he feels better that you’re better. His three fingers and his face wasn’t enough to prepare you for the blazing stretch you felt as his thick cock splits you open.

He’s thicker than those three fingers, you feel every ridge and wall touching him as he enters, wantonly panting as he takes claim of your tingling body, until there’s no space, all taken up inside you as you practically are punching the air out of you as you struggle to breath. He’s so thick, long, hard. He always has been, but it still pleasantly surprises you.

But he always has more to give, keeping your head guessing and spinning with each touch sliding in and in. “I never want to see you cry. Because of me.” He heavily pants but so sincerely it makes you want to cry at his sweet words. His red cheeks are absolutely flushed, and his sweat pours down with the water that seemingly feels cold compared to this feeling.

His gaze lowers to where he’s latched onto you, connecting the both of you. Caleb has wonder and admiration written all over his face. He lets out a low groan as he watches your hole swallow him with ease. “It didn’t take much to turn him on.” You think to yourself. “It’s a perfect fit, you were made for me.” He coos. “Look how beautifully you’re taking this.” He moans out, accompanying him as he praises you.

He could sweet talk you up, no matter how mad you were at him. This would and couldn’t ever get old, how he fills you up. You could just die from this feeling. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” He chokes out and his dick throbs inside you. He growled his fingers flexing and tightening the hold he had on your hips and then pulling you down all the way, the last few inches in.

Your hips buck out at the intrusion and you both yell out at the pleasure, the pain, the intensity of all of it. The shower echos it and it feels like the water spraying out falls still. Time moves slowly. And finally, impaled to shock of it all, you writhe, squirming against him, your walls spark around his cock, welcoming him back in, you were alright again. Things happen, shit doesn’t go as planned, but he’s all you had in this world, and he’ll love you endlessly.

“I only thought of you, the whole damn meeting I was called upon on, when quickly scrambling to buy you gifts, the car ride home, it was too long of a time.” Caleb pants. “You’re all I can think about, even all these years later, you fill my brain. The thought of me being deep into you like this, my dick just bulges hard.” Caleb explains, his cock lifting you up just as slowly as the damn descent.

“I’m sorry, so damn sorry that you were crying because of me. That’s the last thing I need to see. Next time, hit me, scream, be a fucking brat. Don’t you ever pretend everything is okay. It breaks my heart.” Your husband growls, effortlessly lifting you up and down, maintaining the slow, painful pace.

In any other circumstance, you would likely be voicing your frustration about how much he’s teasing you. But at this moment, the sensation of his strong heartbeats beneath your hand is more than enough. The very tangible feeling of him being inside you is sufficient as well.

The realization that he might never increase his pace begins to settle in. Perhaps he truly intends to keep you here indefinitely, stretched over his cock, him gliding along your walls and creating a delightful chaos within you for all time. The thought makes your walls flutter around him.

Even with the agonizingly slow rhythm, your urgent moans quickly fill the space. Caleb remains silent, observing as you lose all sense of control. He notices every ‘oh’ that escapes your lips, every tremor of your thighs, the way your nails dig into his back. You are utterly consumed by the exquisite sensation of him.

“I’m not even thrusting into you yet, and you’re already losing your mind on my cock,” he teases. A part of me feels embarrassed by how much he affects me. But that feeling fades when he feels this good.Caleb appears pleased with your response and begins to thrust upward to meet you. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce from the impact. He strikes a spot that makes your head tilt back in pleasure.

Finally, you think to yourself as you widen your legs, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.The once intimate silence is now filled with the lewd sounds of passion. The noise of your wet hair slapping against your back, your desperate moans, Caleb’s grunts as he thrusts into you, the sound of your bodies colliding, the wet noises from where you’re impaled on him.

The unmistakable tightening deep within you signals that you’re on the brink of breaking apart.“That’s it,” he murmurs as he feels your walls constricting around him. “Show me how much you were mad at me.” His lips find the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, sucking gently with an open-mouthed kiss. On his next thrust, he bites down on your flesh, hard.

Your whole body jolts - the combination of pleasure and pain overwhelms your senses. And then you’re falling. He allows you to lose yourself completely.Your whole body convulses - the blend of pleasure and pain overwhelms your mind. Then, you find yourself falling. He emits a loud, pained groan as he feels your walls pulling him in, spasming uncontrollably.

Spurred on by the rhythm of Caleb’s hips, your waves of ecstasy continue as he stirs your insides. Your cries escape you, powerless against the mind-altering pleasure that shows no mercy. Wave after wave - it feels endless.Caleb growls as his gaze begins to blur. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his neck straining from the effort to keep his composure. It takes all his strength to refrain from releasing himself inside you at this moment.

Caleb grips your chin, holding your cheeks firmly as he moves your face left and right, assessing your blissed-out expression. He demands your full attention even as you ride the waves of your orgasm. You wonder if he’s being rough on purpose or if he’s losing the careful control he usually maintains.

Feeling you break around him must be overwhelming. Perhaps his desire for you is taking over his mind.

Finally, round after round of this blissful torture, you croak out something incoherent and then collapse onto his chest. He stumbles back a little and embraces you lovingly. You can’t manage to say anything, just humming with contentment and tiredness washed over you. Caleb sighed, planting sweet kisses on your wet, disheveled hair before swooping you up, your thighs rested on the lower part of his arm, and your back on his upper hand.

He turned off the shower and placed you into the separated bathtub, delicately placing you down like you’d break any minute. The water from the shower was nothing compared to the damp towel Caleb wrung out and gently pressed onto your thighs and around your clit, washing off the mess. Then, after pressing the same towel onto his chest, all over his mouth, and his satisfied cock, your husband lifted you back up again and walked towards your bed.

“My pretty girl. You did so amazing.” He whispered inside your ear. Instead of just lying down, he quickly, and lazily, pulled on some boxers while he very carefully pulled one of his oversized shirts on your head, covering your torso and all the way until your thigh.

“You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair, you know.” He playfully scolds before you groan out. “And who did that to me?” But he props himself up, getting a better look at you. “Hungry? Should we finish that pie?” You slowly nod as he briefly leaves you alone and comes back with the ice cream, pie, and a candle.

You sit up as he cuts a slice. He looks at his phone that was tossed aside long ago. “Huh, look at that. It’s two in the morning.” He grins before leaning in. “But, we can still celebrate. It’s only Friday-now Saturday.” You shove a piece of the pie that was dipped in ice cream into his mouth.

“Happy anniversary Y/N.” he softly whispers. “Happy anniversary, Caleb.” You reply back.

Fin

The water was still running when you felt him.

One moment your hands were sunk in warm suds, stacking dishes in the rack like any other evening, and the next Caleb’s chest was pressed flush against your back—hard, broad, still sheathed in his uniform. The sharp smell of leather and rain hit first, then the low groan in his chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back until his clothed cock was nestled right against your ass.

“Fuck, pips…” his voice cracked, lips grazing your neck as he breathed you in. His nose buried at your pulse, dragging slow, greedy inhales that made your skin burn. “Missed that, fuck I missed you.”

The dish slipped from your fingers, clattering softly into the sink. “C-caleb! You're back mm..early. H-how was your day?”

A rough, almost broken laugh vibrated through his chest against your back. “Day was fine,” he rasped, voice strained and low, “just 'missed you.” His mouth dragged lower, hot and open against your skin, sucking at the spot that always made you shiver, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips. “thought about feelin’ you, smellin’ you all day—always smell so sweet.” Caleb’s arm cinched tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest like he couldn’t stand even a breath of space between you.

You tilted your head, baring your throat for him, eyes fluttering as more wave of nerves coursed down your spine. “Mmm—ah, m-missed you too, ’leb,” you breathed out in a sigh, the words tumbling soft and unguarded, melting straight into the heat of his chest. His lips grazed the side of your neck again, and you swore you felt him shudder at your confession, like the sound of it had undone him completely.

The scent of his cologne, dampened by the rain clinging to his uniform, wrapped around you, dizzying and thick. Caleb groaned low in his chest—nearly a moan at your words—his breath hitching ragged against your skin as his hips rolled forward, rougher now, obscene, allowing you to feel every inch of him straining through the dark fabric of his slacks.

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost pleading. His gloved hand slid up, curling around your jaw, coaxing your head to turn until your eyes met purple ones. His face hovered close, eyes dark and starving—but he didn’t close the distance. You could feel the tension in him, the way his chest rose sharp against your back, like he was barely holding himself back.

Your lips parted, lashes flicking from his to his lips before you breathed sweetly, “Missed you too—” A strangled whimper fell past Caleb's lips before he could swallow it down, his restraint shattering as he surged forward to capture your mouth in a desperate kiss, practically moaning the second yours graced his.

Caleb's lips claimed yours like he meant to consume you, groaning into the kiss as his hips ground harder against your ass, the thick line of him straining through his slacks. Each needy roll pressed deeper into the swell of you, sparks shooting straight to your clit. The vibration of his moan melted into your mouth, swallowing every gasp and whimper you gave him like they were the only thing keeping him alive.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, "Need you so bad pips..wanna feel you," his forehead pressing to yours as his hand finally slipped past the elastic waistband of your shorts. The action drew a gasp from you as leather dragged hot over your skin, a delicious contrast from his fingers pushing under the thin fabric of your panties.

“C-Caleb wait! Don’t you wanna ngh…go to the bedroom first..?” you asked breathlessly, your hand grabbing onto his forearm, despite your back arching helplessly into his touch.

He groaned at your plea, the sound wrecked, almost broken. “Mhm, mhm—don’t wanna wait. Need you now.” His voice was strained, bordering on a whine, each word spilling hot against your lips before his mouth dragged lower to your throat. His tongue traced a wet, messy line along your neck before he latched on and sucked hard enough to make you whimper.

“C-Caleb!”

A moan—half ragged, half feral—tore from Caleb’s lips at the sound of his name spilling off your tongue. His gloved fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, hunger guiding him like instinct. The leather dragged hot over your skin before dipping into your panties, grazing your soaked folds with practiced precision. Your slick made it easy for him to slide, and when one thick digit pushed past your entrance, stretching your gummy walls, you broke.

“Ahh—’leb—!”

The way you cried his name made him moan back, desperate and unhinged, rutting his hips against the swell of your ass like he was already about to fall apart. His fingers sank deeper, knuckles nudging inside as his thumb pressed down on your clit, messy and relentless. The wet squelch of your pussy filled the kitchen, loud and obscene, pulling a guttural groan straight from his chest.

“Y-yeah, just like that—fuck, that’s it. Say my name again,” he begged, voice wrecked and trembling. His forehead pressed to the side of your head like he needed the contact to keep from breaking. His hips stuttered against you, the thick length straining through his uniform as if he was using your body to grind out his own desperation.

Your back arched into his chest, breath stolen in sharp gasps as his fingers pumped deeper, harder. Every thrust was sloppy, wet, obscene, slick coating the leather until each push made a nasty squelch that echoed off the kitchen tiles.

“Love hearin’ it from you, pretty—fuck—turns me on so much. Say it again, pips—please.” His plea was choked, needy, dripping out of him like he was seconds from begging on his knees.

Meanwhile your vision went starry, white heat coiling tight in your belly as the pleasure built fast and sharp, your thighs trembling against his iron grip. A shaky exhale fell past your lips, eyes practically rolling back into your skull as a soft plea reached Caleb's ear.

"D-don't stop 'leb, wanna-ngh-cum for you."

Caleb let out a strangled whimper, the sound raw, torn from his chest. His fingers instantly drove deeper, fucking into you deeper, faster, while his thumb rubbed messy circles over your clit, frantic and uncoordinated in his desperation. You could practically taste your orgasm at this point.

“Gonna make me cum in my fuckin’ pants sayin’ that, pips,” he babbled against your throat, voice wrecked, every word a needy plea tangled in a promise. His mouth was hot and unrelenting, kissing, biting, sucking at your skin like he couldn’t get enough, groaning between every lap of his tongue. “Always so good f’me—shit—always so sweet. Let go, pretty girl. Give it to me—c’mon, let me have it.”

Your knees buckled, nails biting into his forearm as your head fell back against his shoulder, body quaking under his touch. His pace only grew more reckless, the lewd squelch of your soaked pussy filling the kitchen, mixing with the desperate little whines breaking from his throat.

“G-gonna—!” you gasped, grinding down against his hand, chasing the edge as your whole body locked tight.

“That’s it, that’s it—fuck yes,” Caleb groaned, almost sobbing, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as his hips rutted into your ass like he couldn’t stop himself. “Give it to me, pips—let me feel you—need it, need it so bad—”

And then you broke. A cry tore out of you as the wave hit, thighs clamping around his hand while your cunt spasmed around his fingers. Pleasure flooded you in sharp, dizzying bursts, your hips bucking helplessly against the relentless drag of his gloves.

“Good girl—fuck, that’s my girl—” Caleb’s voice cracked as he praised you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t breathe, grinding into you harder as if your orgasm was dragging him under with you. “So fuckin’ perfect—so perfect for me.”

Your release soaked his fingers, slick coating the leather, and Caleb’s breath hitched raggedly at the sight of it. His hips jerked once—twice—before a strangled groan tore from him. “Ahh—pips—I can’t—” His voice pitched high, breaking as his body locked up against yours. You felt the sharp, needy rut of his cock grind into your ass once more before the damp heat spread in his uniform slacks, his release spilling thick as he came undone right there against you.

His whole body shuddered, forehead pressed to your neck, teeth sinking into your skin to muffle the broken whimper that escaped him. His gloved fingers never stopped, still pumping you through every aftershock, like he needed to feel you fall apart while he did.

When your whimpers softened, he pulled back just enough to look at his hand glistening under the kitchen light. His pupils were blown wide, his breath harsh, chest straining against his uniform.

“I need a taste—"

He brought his soaked fingers to his lips without hesitation, sucking them past his mouth with a guttural groan. His eyes fluttered shut as his tongue swirled along the leather, dragging every drop of your slick into his mouth like it was the first drink after a drought. He moaned around them, pulling off with a wet pop, saliva glistening on his chin. His gaze snapped back to you, dark and hazy, lips swollen as he licked across them, chasing the taste. “Can’t get enough of you, pips—never fuckin’ can.”

Then he was spinning you around, hunger blazing in every movement. His mouth crashed against yours in a wet, desperate kiss, sharing the taste of yourself with you as his hands made quick work of shoving your shorts and panties down your thighs.

Your half lidded eyes fluttered open in a haze, already knowing where this is going to lead- to you two fucking in the kitchen and Caleb having to carry you back to the bed due to him blacking out once he slides in your pussy.

You swallowed hard, still trying to catch your breath, fumbling for words. “Leb—w-wait! Don’t you wanna…mfh- get more comfortable?” Your thighs twitched together on instinct, trying to close as you fought to speak against his hungry lips. Barely getting the chance to pull away far enough so that you'd have a second to speak.

The whine that left Caleb's lips as he chased your lips once more made your heart squeeze. Your will to resist his pleas was growing alarmingly small.

“You’re still in your uniform, ’leb—mfhh.”

The protest broke uselessly against his mouth. Caleb wasn’t hearing it, wasn’t capable of hearing anything past the thunder of his pulse and the taste of you. His lips crashed back onto yours, swallowing your words in a kiss so hot and messy it had your knees trembling. The sheer intensity of it alone sent arousal slipping down your thighs, your body betraying you under the weight of his hunger.

And when his tongue pushed past your lips, eager and greedy, sweeping into your mouth like he meant to devour every sound you made—you knew it was over. Your hands found his neck and hair, clutching desperately, dragging him closer until there was nothing left of the space between you. His growl vibrated straight into your chest as your nails dug into him.

But Caleb wasn’t satisfied. He never was when it came to you. His gloved hand slid down, sneaky and deliberate, parting your thighs once more with a subtle press that had your breath hitching. He kissed you like a man unhinged, but his body was already moving lower, inch by inch, until you felt the heat of his breath ghost your belly.

“Leb—” Your voice cracked, but he didn’t give you the chance to finish.

His mouth tore from yours with a wet gasp, forehead pressing hard to yours, breath hot and ragged. “Already had one taste, pips,” Caleb rasped, voice low and trembling with lust. His pupils were blown wide, gaze burning into you as his gloved hand slid down, gripping your thigh and spreading you open just enough to make you suck in a sharp breath.

His lips ghosted over yours again, softer this time, a teasing brush. “But now—” his tongue flicked against your bottom lip before he drew back just enough for you to feel the loss—“I want a different kind of taste.”

Before the words could even settle, Caleb was dropping to his knees. The sight alone made heat punch through your belly—your colonel, still in his uniform, hair falling into his wild purple eyes, sinking down in front of you like he was about to pray to an altar. His big hands shoved your thighs apart, unyielding, claiming, until you were spread open for him against the counter.

Then he buried his face between your legs, no hesitation, no patience. A guttural moan ripped straight from his chest as his tongue dragged a fat, sloppy stripe up your folds, savoring you with messy, obscene hunger. The vibration of the sound against your cunt made your knees buckle instantly, your head falling back as white-hot pleasure tore through you.

"H-holy shit 'leb-wait s-slow down!"

Caleb ate you like a man starved—sloppy, messy, desperate. His nose nudged your clit as his tongue circled, lapped, then dipped deep into your cunt, fucking you with wet, obscene thrusts of his mouth. The bottom half of his face was drenched, but he couldn't seem to care less, didn’t even look like he was breathing in between groans of your name. Like his need to taste you outweighed everything else.

His gloved hands gripped your thighs, holding you open and still as he ravaged you, lips and tongue working you over with frantic precision. Each sloppy lap and press of his nose against your clit sent shivers through your spine, making your knees wobble and your hips jerk involuntarily.

Your thighs quivered around his face, your nails digging into the backs of his shoulders as your body pressed down, helpless to the relentless pull of pleasure. Every flick of his tongue, every sloppy swirl, dragged another broken moan from your lips, leaving you trembling and on the edge of losing control again.

You came once, thighs trembling, voice breaking in a scream of his name—but he didn’t stop. Caleb groaned through it, tightening his grip as your hips bucked, sucking and licking at you harder like he needed to wring every ounce of release from your body.

“Fuck—so sweet,” he panted into your slick, voice wrecked and needy. “Gimme more baby, give it to me-mffh”

The second orgasm ripped through you quicker, sharper, your thighs clamping around his head as your body convulsed against the counter. Caleb whimpered at the way you pulsed around his tongue, sucking harder, drawing it out until your voice was nothing but broken moans.

When he finally tore himself away, his mouth was shining, chin slick, lips swollen. His chest heaved under the stiff press of his uniform as he looked up at you, purple eyes wild and still hazy with lust.

Yeah...you weren't leaving this kitchen anytime soon.

♡

The wet smack of your bodies echoed through the kitchen, louder than the rain hammering against the windows. Your slick was everywhere, dripping down his cock, running down your thighs, making every slap filthier, wetter.

“S’good—fuck, you’re so good, baby,” Caleb babbled, almost whining as he buried his face against your neck, his hips slamming up into you again and again. His breath came in hot, broken bursts, teeth scraping your skin as if he couldn’t keep his mouth off you. “So tight—so fuckin’ wet for me."

Meanwhile, you were practically melting under him, mouth parted, saliva pooling as your nails raked down his back through the damp, clinging fabric of his uniform. You clawed at him like you were trying to hold onto something—or maybe like you might tear him apart entirely. “S’good, ‘leb—don’t stop, don’t stop, please!” you whimpered, voice shaking, body bouncing helplessly in his grip.

His cock plunged deep with every powerful thrust, each drive hitting that perfect spot inside you, ripping little cries from your throat as your cunt clenched desperately around him. Arms gripped your waist and thighs, keeping you flush to his chest as your hips jerked helplessly with each relentless pound.

You had long lost count of how many times you’d come. Four? Five? Truthfully you had lost count, each time Caleb pulled another earth shattering orgasm out of you another part of your brain turned to mush.

“F-fuck—‘leb, too much—ahh, I can’t—!” your voice cracked, but your cunt betrayed you, squeezing down on him so tight he groaned, a feral sound torn straight from his chest.

“Yes, you can, pips,” Caleb rasped, breath hitching, voice wrecked and almost begging. His forehead pressed hard to yours, sweat beading at his temple, hair sticking damp to his face as his hips pistoned into you. “Take it for me—lemme hear you.”

You gasped, choking on your own moans as your body jolted against the cabinets, his cock hitting deep, dragging against every swollen, sensitive spot inside you. Stars burst across your vision, your thighs trembling helplessly in his grip.

“That’s it—oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his gloved hand slipped down between your bodies, pressing against your clit, rubbing in messy circles to match the slam of his thrusts. “Make a mess for me, baby. Wanna feel you gush on my cock again—give it to me.”

Your body lurched, pleasure winding so sharp it bordered on pain. “C-Caleb, I—ahh, I’m gonna—!”

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he nearly sobbed into your neck, rutting harder, faster, grinding into you like he wanted to break you apart on his cock. “Cum for me, pips—make a fuckin’ mess for me, let me feel it—” The words alone undid you. Your cunt squeezed tight around him, and then you broke with a cry, back arching, nails digging his shoulders as your orgasm ripped through you, wetter and harder than before. Slick gushed down his cock, dripping to the floor, and Caleb moaned at the feel, hips stuttering but never stopping.

“God—fuck yes—so sweet, so fuckin’ perfect,” he gasped, kissing you sloppy and hungry, swallowing your cries as his thrusts grew erratic. “That’s it, baby, give me all of it—fuck, I can feel you milkin’ me shiiit—”

His cock slammed deep one last time, the wet heat of your release coating him, and then Caleb broke with you. A pornographic moan tore from his chest as his hips ground flush against yours, cock pulsing as he spilled inside. The warmth spread through you in thick waves, his seed filling you so deep it made your toes curl.

“F-fuck—oh god, 'leb,” you whimpered, squirming in his hold as your sensitive walls fluttered around him. Your head fell against his shoulder, body weak, twitching from aftershocks. Every tiny movement had you whimpering, the fullness almost unbearable.

Caleb’s chest heaved against yours, his forehead pressed to the curve of your neck, hair damp and clinging as he exhaled raggedly. Even as his body came down from the edge, his hips rolled with slow, deliberate pressure, pushing every inch of himself deeper into you. The warmth of his cum coated your walls, slick and heavy, while his low, guttural groans vibrated through your body, matching the tremor of your quivering thighs. Every soft gasp, every helpless whimper of yours seemed to drive him further, his fingers tightening on your hips as if he could anchor both of you to this overwhelming sensation.

You whimpered, tugging weakly at his uniform, but he only kissed your temple, feverish, still trembling from the high. Then he pulled back, purple eyes wild and desperate, his voice dropping into something rough, hungry.

“One more time, pips,” he begged, almost whined, as his cock twitched inside you. His gloved hands gripped your thighs tighter, spreading you open against the cabinet. “Let me fuck you one more time, 'promise I'll make you feel so good."

“C-Caleb, I—” your protest died in a gasp as his hips drove sharply into you again, cock still hard, still needy, still stuffing you deliciously full. Your body jolted at the sensation, oversensitive and twitching, every nerve on fire. “H-honey I can't s'too much—ahh—”

His forehead pressed to yours, damp brown strands sticking to his temple, sweat glinting along his skin as he rutted slow, deliberate, grinding you down against the cabinet with each powerful thrust. “C’mon, pretty… just one more. Wanna fill you up again—wanna stuff you full,” he murmured.

Christ.

If you had been in any proper state of mind, you might have kissed him softly and whispered that you were going to pass out at this rate—not that it hadn’t happened before—and that maybe he should rest too. But you were too far gone, utterly cockdrunk, and resistance was damn near futile.

So, as your teary, flushed eyes blinked up at Caleb, slick dripping down his hips, you could only shiver and arch into him, mentally preparing yourself for the fact walking would become a foreign concept to you after this was all over.

And that was all he needed. Caleb groaned, a sound low and feral, and started to move again—thrusts deep and sharp, determined to wring another release out of your already spent body. Your whimpers filled the kitchen, nails dragging helplessly down his back as the cabinet rattled with every slam.

And deep down, you knew his “one more” meant until you couldn’t stand, it meant: until Caleb wrung every last orgasm you could muster out of you in his kitchen.

“He's a Colonel, right? Doesn't he have the money to afford a hotel?”

“Just because he can, doesn't mean he should waste the money when I have a perfectly comfortable couch available.”

“I sleep on the couch too,” he grumbles into your neck. His huff tickles your skin, and you wiggle in his arms.

You laugh, “when was the last time you actually slept on the couch?”

Maybe before the two of you got together, Xavier would crash on your couch when he was too tired to go up to his place. Now, he has a home in your bed and hasn't looked back since. And you doubt he's going to give up the chance to cuddle up to you at night just because he doesn't want Caleb on your couch.

His arms tighten around you and he says nothing.

You drop the pillow to move to the kitchen, where your phone is resting on the island, but Xavier doesn't let go. You try prying his arms off, but he's like a clingy baby koala.

“Xavier, let go!” You groan, squirming in his grasp. “I wanna see if he’s close.”

“He’s probably stuck in traffic.”

You can't really argue there. Most 9-5s are ending now, and everyone's probably racing home, clogging up the streets. But Caleb will still let you know when he's set to arrive.

Xavier’s hand wanders up your chest, groping the soft mound of your breasts through your—actually his—t-shirt. “And there's plenty of time before he gets here.”

“We shouldn't…” you sigh, but despite your best efforts, your body betrays you as it arches into his palm, leaning into the tender touches. You melt into him, letting your head lean back onto his shoulder.

You've been tense the past few days, prepping for Caleb's arrival by fixing up your apartment and keeping Xavier’s growing, green monster at bay. Letting off a little steam with him won't be so bad…

“Okay,” you relent, turning yourself to face him. He doesn't take his arms off of you, resting them on your ass instead and massaging the soft flesh. “But we have to be quick.”

Xavier responds by kissing you, dipping to grab your thighs and hoisting you up around his waist. Your legs wrap around him as you cling to his neck, leaning deeper into the kiss. He wastes no time bringing you to the bedroom, leaving behind your cellphone.

—

“F-Fuck!” You cry, chest heaving as Xavier’s tongue works a third orgasm from you. Your weak attempts to squirm away only force him to pull you against his tongue so he can continue toying with your swollen bud. Your hands curl into your pillow as more unabashed moans fall from your lips.

He switches his tongue with his fingers and moves to lap at your dripping pussy. “Mm, you taste so good, baby,” he sighs, leaving a kiss on your pussy before diving his tongue back into your fluttering hole. He eats you out like he's starved. Your previous orgasms are smeared across his lips and chin.

“Xavier,” you moan, “I'm gonna come.”

He hums into you, rubbing your clit faster. You fall over the edge again, squealing his name as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

Your body sinks into the mattress in the aftermath, embracing the soft glow of the setting sun enveloping your body and the slight glow coming from Xavier.

When he comes up, settling between your thighs, he slips two fingers into you without warning.

“Ah!” You tense as he glides his fingers between your sensitive walls with a wet shlick! You grab his wrist and push his hand away. “You're insatiable, seriously!”

“So are you.”

You don't deny it, responding only by sticking your tongue out and laying back to try and catch your breath.

But, a faint ringing catches your attention. Your cellphone. You sit up, startling Xavier whose hands had already started wandering back between your thighs.

“Oh no! What time is it?”

You look out the window, catching the sun fading beneath the horizon in an orange and red hue. It's been at least an hour since you got into bed with Xavier from what you can tell.

You rush off the bed only for your legs to buckle. Xavier catches you in time to sit you back on the edge.

“Caleb will probably be here any second!”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he says, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb.

You breathe in slowly and work your way up to stand like a newborn fawn, Xavier’s hand hovering at your back the entire time. Glance around the room for your scattered clothes, you successfully spot your t-shirt at the base of the bed but not your underwear. You slip your shirt on, foregoing your underwear for now, and rush to the kitchen for your phone that has gone dark again.

There's four missed calls, all from Caleb with the earliest being from ten minutes ago. You frown when you spot the texts he sent between each call.

7:16 PM: why aren't you answering? busy?

7:20 PM: you ignoring me??? :’((

7:23 PM: call me back. i'm here

The last message sends a chill down your spine. It's the most recent message and judging by the timestamp, you hadn't… finished.

Mortification turns to panic when your phone lights up with his smiling photo and rings. You mouth a curse to yourself before swiping to answer his call.

“Hello?” You cringe at the rasp in your voice and clear your throat.

“Where’ve you been? I was gettin’ a little worried.” His response is immediate and almost stern despite his attempts to keep his tone light.

“Sorry, I was, um… busy.” You cringe at your own pathetic excuse and pray he doesn't question it further. It’s even more pathetic when you feel something begin to drip down your thighs.

“Uh huh.”

You wince at his unamused tone and turn the conversation, “So, you're outside my place right now?”

“I'm outside your door.”

You swear your heart stops.

“Oh, okay! One sec then. I have to get dressed.”

Caleb mutters something about you making a guest wait, but you're too busy rushing to the bedroom to hear and hanging up the phone.

Xavier is sitting on the bed with those sad eyes again, leaning against his palms with his sweats hung low on his hips. You can still see the outline of his cock against them.

“Maybe we can continue later,” you offer, leaving him with a chaste kiss before fleeing to the bathroom. His hand moves for yours, but comes just out of reach.

Grabbing your concealer, you get to work covering up the marks Xavier left behind on the column of your throat. Rushing through the process doesn't cover them completely, but you convince yourself it's not too noticeable by the time you get to the third hickey.

He comes into the room behind you, wrapping himself around you again and resting his chin on your shoulder. His frown doesn't leave as you dab away his marks. He preoccupies himself by raising your shirt, revealing your bare center and essence still smeared over your thighs.

“Can you get me a towel?”

“Why?” He swipes at your thigh, collecting your cum, and licks his fingers as you stare at his tongue gliding up each digit. His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror. “I can clean you up without it.”

You tear your gaze away, trying to tamp down the heat rising in your body, and put on the finishing touches of powder. “C-Come on, I can't keep Caleb waiting forever.”

You pull out of his grasp, reaching for a bottle of perfume and spritzing it over your neck before heading toward your drawers for a pair of underwear and shorts with Xavier hovering close behind. Once they're on, you finally get to the front door and open it.

Caleb is there, backpack and duffle bag in hand, with a pink flush across his cheeks and dusting the tips of his ears. His eyes run over your figure, lingering on your bare legs and barely visible hickeys before glancing at a shirtless Xavier, who's still licking you off his fingers.

You can't deny the spark in your chest when seeing his flustered expression. Could he have been at your door while you and Xavier…

He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey. Thought you changed your mind or somethin’.”

“No way!” You reassure, waving him inside, “this will be just like those sleepovers we used to have. I’m not passing that up!”

“Sleepovers?” Xavier mutters under his breath as you guide Caleb to the couch.

“Hey, Xavi,” Caleb chirps as he passes.

“Hi,” Xavier deadpans.

The two of them are reluctant acquaintances at best, brought together only by your close relation to the other. While Caleb enjoys teasing, Xavier only gives him the cold shoulder. They're a nightmare together. One is always trying to draw your attention away from the other, unable to fathom the idea of sharing you or your time.

You huff, grabbing both their jaws to shake their heads. “Behave.”

The last thing you want is for them to start bickering over nothing.

“Sorry, pips,” Caleb laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, baby,” Xavier says, grabbing your wrist to tug you to his chest.

This will definitely be a long week…

—

The three of you agreed to go out for hot pot since Xavier had a coupon, and dinner is pleasant, neither one making any teasing jabs or obviously pretending the other doesn't exist. It's mainly you and Caleb talking about what you've been up to at work while Xavier quietly eats, occasionally making comments.

So by the time you're back at your apartment, Caleb is the first to yawn and get ready for bed, stating he has a longer commute to work now that he's in Linkon.

You wish him a goodnight, reminding him there are extra blankets and pillows in the closet and he can call you if he needs anything, before clicking your bedroom door shut.

Xavier is laying on your bed, in fresh pjs with his eyes shut. His chest rises and falls in a slow, familiar pattern.

You carefully tiptoe through your bedroom to shower and change. When you slip into bed with Xavier, fully intent on cozying up to him and drifting off, he's propping his head up on one arm and looking down at you with lowered lids.

“Is it ‘later’ yet?”

“Huh?”

“You said we’d continue later.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, furrowing your brows, “but Caleb’s here now.”

He positions himself over you, trapping you between his arms. His head falls into your shoulder, nuzzling against the soft skin of your neck. “I’ll be quiet.”

You bite your lip as his stiffening cock brushes against your thigh. When your pussy begins to ache, you want to curse. This is so, so wrong to want while Caleb sleeps behind your door, but that throbbing ache is growing and spreading through your body almost painfully.

“You,” you swallow thickly, “You promise?”

You feel him smile against your skin. “Promise.”

“Okay…”

By the time three of Xavier’s fingers are stuffed inside of your dripping pussy, you have your hands clamped over your mouth. You are still keenly aware that Caleb is just outside your bedroom door, and you pray to whatever benevolent God that is out there that he can't hear the slick sounds of your pussy as Xavier fucks an orgasm out of you with his fingers.

You're hardly recovered when Xavier lines his cock at your entrance, asking, “Can I put it in?”

You nod, still dazed from your orgasm, “mhm.”

“Hm, what was that?” He rocks back and forth at your soaked entrance, teasing your aching pussy. He can slip in anytime he wants, stretch you open so good, but he just has to torture you a little first.

“Yes,” you whisper frantically, blindly reaching behind and scratching his hip to push him in.

“Louder.”

Your eyes flicker towards the door, before you try again. “Please- ahh!”

Xavier fills you without warning, grabbing your jaw before you can bury your face in the pillows. Your moan is loud, uninhibited, practically bouncing off the walls.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp, clamping both hands over your mouth.

When he starts rocking his hips into you, your breathing becomes labored, desperate for mouthfuls of air instead, but you don't trust yourself to remove your hands.

True to his word, Xavier hardly makes any noise, but you on the other hand are struggling to contain your muffled whimpers, “mmph, mhm, mm!”

“I love when you moan my name,” he murmurs. “Can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes when he stops moving entirely. You desperately clench around him, urging him to keep moving.

“C’mon,” he pleads, “just once.”

As an internal battle rages in your mind, he plays with your breast while he waits, pinching and rubbing your hardened bud.

“Mmm,” you moan, losing the war in your head and slowly lowering your hands to grip the sheets, “please keep going, Xavier.”

You cry his name again, arching against him as he thrusts into you. When he rolls you into your stomach to fuck you prone, your hands stay balled in the sheets with you lips still parted, moaning with each thrust.

The pleasure flooding your system fogs your mind until all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bullying your sloppy pussy. Your orgasm is quick and pulls another whine from your throat.

“S-So good,” Xavier pants, nosing the shell of your ear. “You make the prettiest sounds.”

You hum at his praise and in the back of your mind hope Caleb is a deep sleeper.

—

In the morning not much is different, except for the pink blush creeping up Caleb’s neck as he stares at the wall when saying good morning.

You promise yourself you won't give in again. Last night was just a moment of weakness and you were only continuing what you had started earlier.

But then night falls and Xavier seems just as insatiable, grabbing you as you shut the door after saying goodnight to Caleb. He has you pressed against the wall, kissing your neck down to your chest. You tear your clothes off soon after and he takes you against the wall this time. Your teeth dig into his shoulder to cover up your whimpers and it only makes him drive his cock into you harder.

And the week goes on, every night Xavier finds new ways to split you open while you try your hardest not to make another sound.

You wish you could say you were doing good at burying your face in the pillows, biting his shoulders, or muffling yourself with your hands. But really, you aren't.

By the end of the week, Caleb is packing his bags and getting ready to move back into his place. You're completely sore all over and littered in hickeys from Xavier’s insatiable need to fuck you every night.

“Bye, Caleb!” You pull him into a hug which he returns fully, even lifting you a bit off your feet. Your body protests with aches jolting through your limbs, but you force down the groan.

He sets you down, steadying you when your legs seem to want to give out. “See ya. Thanks again for hosting me. Maybe we can all go out for hot pot again soon. My treat.”

You laugh with an eager nod, already salivating over all the free food. “Sure, it's a date!”

As soon as you wave off Caleb, Xavier is already grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch.

“Finally,” he mumbles under his breath, pushing you onto the cushions. You sit back as he spreads your legs open and kneels.

“Again?” You squeak.

“The couch smells like him,” he grumbles, pressing down on your clit through your panties. Your legs attempt to shut, but he holds them back.

“I think I owe him a lifetime of therapy bills,” you sigh, resting your head to look up at the ceiling.

Xavier hums as he peels off your panties, tossing them over his shoulder. “But you liked it, didn't you?”

“What?” You tense as his hands slide up your thighs.

“You liked knowing he could hear you.”

“I-”

Did you like it? You don't want your relationship with Caleb to be awkward or tense, but at the same time you've always loved to tease him, testing the limits of how far you could go to make him blush. Knowing that he could hear every filthy moan and creak of the bed, turned you on as twisted as it seemed. Maybe that's why you always gave into Xavier.

He rests both hands on your thighs. “It's okay, you don't need to lie.”

“Are you mad?” You brush back his silvery hair that hides his eyes from you. He's not looking at you, keeping his hardened gaze at your navel.

“No,” he says quietly.

You lean down, cupping his jaw with both your hands to raise his face to look you in the eyes. “I love you. And I choose you—I do. Always.”

For so long your relationship with Caleb had sat on a precarious edge, teetering the line between friends and something more. But, you chose Xavier and whatever line you could've crossed with Caleb was gone.

“I trust you.” His lips curve in a soft smile as he cradles one of your hands. He kisses your palm. “I’m a little jealous, maybe, but never mad.”

The relief is a weight off your shoulder, bringing a smile to your face. You pull him into a kiss that leads to him climbing on top of you, tugging your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra.

“I love you too,” he hums, peppering kisses down your collarbone and dipping into the valley of your breasts.

You giggle, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You know, it's kinda hot when you're jealous.”

He moves down your stomach, kissing the spots where his previous marks begin to fade. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you're always so calm and in control.”

Xavier rarely lets his emotions slip, so much so he comes off as aloof to most people he meets. You know he's anything but though—he’s loyal, gentle, and attentive. Still, it's rare for you to see him display any negative emotions.

“It’s nice to see this side of you once in a while.” Bonus for you, he fucks your brains out with twice the stamina.

“Really? You couldn't wait another couple of hours or somethin’? I swear, you two fuck like rabbits,” Caleb scoffs, dropping his bags to the floor and shutting the door.

You jolt up, grabbing for the blankets to cover up.

“Why are you back?” Xavier grumbles, shifting the blanket higher over your chest.

Caleb bends down to pull a plug from the wall outlet. He responds plainly, “I forgot my charger.”

Instead of leaving with another goodbye, Caleb lingers, eyes grazing over the outline of your figure beneath the sheets. He swallows, Adams apple bobbing before tearing his gaze away.

“You know, I really tried ignorin’ it, but after the second night I knew you were doin’ it on purpose,” he says pointedly at Xavier.

“Doing what?” Xavier cocks his head, wide blue eyes looking at Caleb.

Caleb scoffs, “don't play stupid.”

“Play? I'm not playing at anything.” The sickly sweet, oblivious tone in Xavier’s voice drips with derision.

You groan, “stop it, both of you.”

Anymore of this and you'll have to shove them both out of your apartment.

You're about to apologize when Caleb turns his attention to you. “You're not innocent either.”

You huff, looking away, “You're just fun to tease.”

“Tease!? You call that teasin’? You had me rock hard every night,” he groans.

Xavier speaks next, “why don't you help him with that then?”

You turn to Xavier, jaw dropped. That is the last thing you ever expected him to say, especially when he was so pouty about having Caleb around.

“I trust you,” he says simply as if he's reading your incredulous mind. “If this is what you want to do.”

You glance over at Caleb whose red flush has a devious smile crossing your lips. Like you said, so fun to tease. His jaw ticks, sweeping over the marks laid across your skin by Xavier.

You nod, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I do.”

“You’re both okay with this?” Caleb gawks. “Are you sure?”

“Why so shocked? You think you can steal her from me?”

Maybe it's the challenging stare from Xavier or you dropping the blanket from your chest that makes Caleb finally step forward.

“Dunno, let's see.”

—

How did I end up here, you think to yourself when Xavier’s bare chest molds against your back. His warm hands slide up the curve of your stomach to your breasts, fondling each of them.

I don't ever want to leave, you decide when Caleb slips into view in front of you. His eyes flit over your exposed body, committing every curve to memory. There are hickeys left by Xavier on your neck and chest, some fresh others fading, placed throughout the week. Your nipples are pebbled thanks to Xavier’s teasing fingers, pinching and rubbing, and even lower, your drooling cunt is weeping down your thigh.

Caleb smears your slick up your thigh, tracing your folds and fluttering hole. He teases the tip of his finger into the heat of your cunt that attempts to clench around nothing.

You shudder and groan, trying to hide your face in Xavier's neck, but he takes your chin to guide you back. His grip is firm, but he isn't rough as he turns your attention back onto Caleb.

“Why are you running away already?” Xavier coos into your ear, soft lips brushing down the sensitive skin of your neck. He presses light kisses against faded hickeys. “We’re just getting started.”

“More,” you moan, leaning into Xavier's lips and shifting your hips against Caleb’s curious fingers.

“Sit then,” Xavier instructs.

You comply, pulling yourself out of their grasp to settle on the couch with your dripping cunt on display. Your hands trail down your body, playing with your tits before sinking lower to press your swollen bud, soaking in the rapt attention of the two men.

Caleb can't take his eyes off your pretty pussy, barely holding himself back from ripping your hand away to replace it with his tongue.

Xavier watches your mouth part, sighs and gasps spilling out of it. He nudges Caleb, pulling him out of his trance. “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

He doesn't need to speak twice. Caleb gets down between your thighs like it's his home, taking your fingers and replacing them with his. He dips one finger into the entrance of your slick heat that eagerly welcomes him in.

“Mm, I can take more,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “Please, Caleb.”

He curses under his breath and moves forward, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you as if he’s still hesitant.

Your fingers curl through his hair, nudging him closer, as you nod your silent permission.

Once his lips meet your clit, he dives into a frenzy like he's been completely starved. He licks and sucks, simultaneously fingering you, curling his digits against your spongey walls.

You writhe against his attention. Your thighs threaten to squeeze around his head as your hand tugs his hair, but Xavier slips beside you, keeping you spread.

“My pretty girl,” Xavier hums, kissing your neck, “you're doing so good for us.”

Caleb spreads your folds, replacing his finger with his tongue, dipping into your center to taste you.

With Xavier whispering praise in your ear and Caleb devouring your pussy, it's no surprise when you come on his tongue, gushing and crying out his name.

“You taste so good,” Caleb gasps, pulling your thighs over his shoulder.

You whimper, trying to squirm away when Caleb’s nose nudges against your clit as his tongue spreads you open to clean up every drop of cum. Your thighs tremble around his head as he laps at you with a flat tongue. “Ngh, I-I can't,” you pant, clawing at the couch when the sensitivity grows too much.

Caleb lets out a choked noise as he's abruptly ripped from your pussy. With the stimulation gone, you look down to see Xavier has a tight grip on Caleb's necklace, holding him back like he’s nothing but a dog on a leash.

His dog tag and charm sway against the column of his neck as a red flush creeps up the base. Caleb pants, your cum still smeared down his chin and lips, leaving behind a glossy sheen.

“That’s enough,” Xavier commands, authority dripping from his voice. Cold blue eyes glare down on him. A rare look on Xavier, you hardly even see him fight Wanderers with such intensity.

“F-Fine,” Caleb chokes out, gritting his teeth when Xavier tugs once more before releasing him. He climbs to his feet. Caleb towers over you, limp on the couch, with a predatory gaze. Arousal pools in your stomach again as you look at the bulge straining against his pants.

“Need help with that?” You lay your hand flat against him, feeling the thickness of his cock against your palm.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, grabbing your wrist to guide your hand to rub him through his pants.

Xavier taps your thigh and gestures for you to move up. He slips in behind you and sits you back down on his lap where you feel his own stiff cock press against your ass.

“Go on.” Xavier nudges your hand, guiding it against Caleb’s bulge. “Put your lips on his cock, baby.”

You unzip Caleb's pants with trembling fingers because Xavier takes his own cock out to tease against your entrance, smearing your juices over himself, before he slips in. You paw at Caleb’s abdomen as the stretch pulls a moan from you.

Xavier grinds you down on his cock, holding your hips to rock you back and forth. He takes his time with your body, moving slowly to let you feel him fully inside you.

You’re clenching around him—desperate to have his finger on your clit, bounce you on his cock, kiss your neck. But he falls against the cushions, watching you writhe and tense, with a lowered gaze, no intention of going any faster than the languid pace he set.

You try to sneak your hand between your legs, but Caleb catches your wrist.

“Don't-” he gasps, gripping your wrist to guide you back to his cock, “don't forget about me.”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the fabric over his cock. “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping your hand into his pants to pull him free.

Caleb bucks into your hand when you wrap around his thick girth, swiping your thumb over his pearly, leaking tip. The whining moan that escapes him encourages you to give kitten licks at the salty precum smeared around his head.

“Shit,” he hisses, gripping the back of your neck to push your pliant lips further around his cock.

You take him in, moaning as he stretches your lips and bullies his way into your warm mouth. In turn, your pussy clenches around Xavier, making him groan and buck into you, pushing you further along Caleb’s cock until your nose meets his coarse pubic hair and his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Mmph!” You choke around his cock, eyes beginning to water as you try adjusting to his size stretching out your throat. You begin to bob your head, sucking and flattening your tongue against him.

His head falls back as he groans, thrusting into your wanting mouth and digs his fingers into your neck, guiding your rhythm.

Xavier, getting bored of being a watchful participant, takes your hips and drops you down on his cock, earning a choked moan from you. He uses your body like his own personal flashlight, moving you up and down at his own intense pace.

“Doing so well for us, baby,” Xavier grunts, his breathing growing staggered.

“God, your—ngh—mouth feels so fuckin’ good,” Caleb groans.

Being fucked by Xavier and Caleb is frenzied, pulling you in opposite directions to be met only with overwhelming pleasure on both sides. They use you, take you, giving until it becomes all you can think about. The tight grip of Caleb's hand against your neck as he thrusts himself down your throat to Xavier's cock splitting you open, fucking you so deep each time.

All it takes is Xavier bringing his hand around to rub your clit to make you gush all over him, moaning around Caleb and digging your nails into his hips. With your cunt squeezing and sucking Xavier in, he can't hold back his own orgasm, spilling deep inside you with one final thrust.

Your orgasm leaves you trembling, but it doesn't stop you from helping Caleb finish.

“She's so pretty, isn't she? Taking you like a good girl,” Xavier rasps.

Caleb moans out an indecipherable mumble.

“Is this what you imagined when you heard her moaning my name for the past week?”

“F-Fuck you,” Caleb growls.

You run your tongue along the base of his cock, kissing the tip, before taking him in your mouth again.

Caleb’s moans grow along with the wet, squelching sounds of you sucking him off.

“Are you going to come in her mouth?” Xavier asks, continuing to tease. “Wishing you could come inside her?”

“Mm, yes,” Caleb admits, brows furrowing as his thrusts grow sloppy. He comes down your throat after a few more thrusts, seed and spit spilling from your lips as he keeps you on his cock.

You swallow the salty cum when he pulls you off, making a show to lick the corners of your lips as he watches.

“Damn, you're killing me,” he groans, running a hand through his slick hair.

“You did so good.” Xavier pulls you back into his arms with his cock still in you, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. Warm hands glide over your stomach as you melt into him, not caring that your bodies are much too hot and sticky to be so close right now.

Caleb fidgets, like he's not sure of his place anymore, turning away to your kitchen. “I'll go get you some water.”

You watch as he walks away, the muscles of his back glistening with sweat and his pants hanging low off his waist.

You're sure there is more the two of you have to discuss later, but for now you settle against Xavier with one thought—you should let Caleb stay over more often…

☆ 𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 knew that this was a bad idea, but he didn’t care — he couldn’t. It had been too long since he had seen you, too many months spent apart with nothing but his fist wrapped around his cock and the fleeting sound of your sweet voice.

His mind grows hazy as he loses himself in your cunt, panting against it as he reunites with your addicting taste. His dexterous fingers work you open in the back of the Batmobile as he humps against the seats, growing more impatient with every thrust.

The crushing weight of time pushes down on his back, forcing his digits deeper as you wail out, thrashing from yet another climax that overstimulates you to no end.

“Come on, baby.” He begs, pretty blue eyes trained on your heaving chest and fucked out expression. He adjusts his suit, the tip of his cock pushing against your soft, slippery entrance. The tip barely goes in and your back arches, already teetering on release. “Just let me fuck you real quick, okay? I’ll take care of you. Promise.”

☆ 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 was pissed. The night had gone completely south, the bitter taste of failure and disappointment crawls down his throat as Batman storms off. He’d deal with that later. First, he needed to simmer down the only way he knew how to — you.

Folding you into the backseat of the Batmobile, Jason was relentless when it came to eating you out. He’s not afraid to be messy, in fact, he welcomed it. The more of your essence seeps into the black leather seats, the better.

It turns him into something primal, sloppily running his practiced tongue over your clit again and again until your thighs tremble around his head and you’re left breathlessly gasping his name, tugging at his messy strands to keep you tethered to this plane.

“That’s it, take it.” Jason growls, the vibrations run along your bundled nerves and heighten your senses. He slips in two fingers, mercilessly fucking you with them until you’re coating his face and the seats with everything you have. “Fuck. One more time, need my pretty girl to make a mess.”

You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.

“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”

Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”

Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”

Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”

The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”

He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.

He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”

“Ah, ah, Caleb!”

You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”

He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”

“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”

Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”

“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”

Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”

“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”

You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”

The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.

“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”

He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.

“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”

“Haa... haa...”

Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.

“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”

He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.

“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”

Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.

“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”

He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.

He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”

Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”

He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.

“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.

You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”

He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”

“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”

He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”

You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.

“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”

He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”

“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”

You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”

His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”

“I love you, Caleb.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”

He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.

“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”

“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”

His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.

“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”

“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!” 

“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”

His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”

He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”

“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.

Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.

“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state. 

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.”  Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it. 

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration. 

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.” 

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter. 

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about. 

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones. 

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you. 

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits. 

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical. 

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here. 

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour. 

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand. 

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh. 

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered. 

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?” 

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it. 

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article. 

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently. 

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips. 

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood. 

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there. 

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it. 

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault. 

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like. 

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.” 

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion. 

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear. 

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled. 

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened. 

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten. 

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork. 

It had everything to do with him, though. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.” 

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet. 

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch. 

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly. 

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him. 

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs. 

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then. 

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team. 

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk.  And yes, this was his fault. 

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose. 

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t. 

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now. 

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed. 

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted. 

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have. 

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke. 

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide. 

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity. 

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.” 

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?” 

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did. 

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into? 

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch. 

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly,  barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left. 

Right and wrong. 

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore. 

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress. 

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower. 

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag. 

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long. 

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence. 

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands. 

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did. 

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life. 

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!” 

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure. 

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours. 

“I would do it if you asked.” 

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm. 

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you. 

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around. 

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself. 

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship. 

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his. 

And then there was the teasing. 

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head. 

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it. 

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now. 

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” 

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind. 

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself. 

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him? 

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin. 

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight. 

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips. 

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down. 

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried. 

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped. 

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?” 

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again. 

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.” 

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite. 

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.” 

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily. 

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back. 

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish. 

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire. 

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you. 

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other. 

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction. 

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed. 

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core. 

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit. 

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm. 

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?” 

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion. 

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him. 

When he introduced a second figure to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex. 

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence. 

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him. 

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it. 

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach. 

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor. 

One look at you and he was a goner. 

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow. 

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted? 

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust. 

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock. 

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs. 

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once. 

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile. 

“It’ll fit.” 

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly. 

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment. 

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred. 

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?” 

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.” 

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there. 

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. 

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.” 

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.  

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.  

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you. 

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating. 

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it. 

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.” 

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once. 

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened. 

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes. 

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was. 

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self. 

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed. 

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him. 

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good. 

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself. 

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge. 

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear. 

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning. 

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed. 

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?” 

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.  

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less. 

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events. 

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend. 

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances. 

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing. 

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you. 

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead. 

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.” 

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him. 

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp. 

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills. 

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know?  He shrugged noncommittally. 

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours. 

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking. 

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student. 

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA. 

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one. 

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” 

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes. 

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you. 

Did he think it was an obligation now? 

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I think you’re ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you. 

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to. 

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it. 

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him. 

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you. 

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not. 

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far. 

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out. 

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.” 

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly. 

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.” 

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made. 

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return. 

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought. 

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaning out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him. 

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now. 

And then he froze. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.” 

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head. 

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously. 

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you. 

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly. 

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt. 

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through. 

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you. 

It wasn’t just sex. 

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head. 

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing. 

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago. 

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them. 

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him? 

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in. 

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry. 

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?” 

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly. 

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you. 

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him. 

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage. 

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away. 

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him. 

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you. 

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against. 

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous. 

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone. 

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. 

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable. 

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours. 

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way. 

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out. 

“I see.” 

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.” 

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you. 

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment. 

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you. 

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you. 

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away. 

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much. 

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter. 

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for. 

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you. 

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom. 

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance. 

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end. 

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it. 

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you. 

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now. 

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book. 

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you. 

Kind of. 

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you. 

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you. 

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.” 

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare. 

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger. 

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him. 

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him. 

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant. 

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you. 

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.” 

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent. 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.” 

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for. 

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again. 

Caleb had followed you into the gardens. 

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted. 

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.” 

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore. 

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him. 

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you. 

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore. 

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing. 

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this. 

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard. 

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you. 

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness? 

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.” 

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled. 

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked. 

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.” 

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now. 

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach. 

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer. 

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.” 

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more. 

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now. 

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again. 

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour. 

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully. 

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?” 

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn. 

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content. 

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it. 

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life. 

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take. 

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

nerd!caleb, who insists that the both of you MUST study together or he’ll be sad without you :((( you’re his comfort person and emotional support. he needs you around him at all times! unfortunately whenever you both try to study together he gets distracted and ends up telling you ‘did you know?’ fun facts about physics that makes you sigh the moment he starts.

nerd!caleb who’s a guy that 100% has EVERYTHING written down about you in his phone and when it gets mentioned months after you told him, you’d be confused on why he knows because you forgotten that you’ve told him!

nerd!caleb who’s the type of guy to sneak up on you when you at home or appear unexpectedly on campus behind you just to quickly spin you around by the waist to kiss you. and it’s so sudden!! you always need to grasp on his sweater to ground yourself from not falling over.

nerd!caleb who lets you be independent to deal with your own problems but alwyas watches from a distance, ready to step in the moment he sees that you need him.

nerd!caleb who flexes his muscles in your face just because he knows how flustered you get and how he sees your eyes dart over his body before you turn away with a flushed face. it makes his lips curl into a boyish grin. so cute.

nerd!caleb who would buy jewelry with his initials or with some cute space trinkets just because he thinks you’d look pretty (totally not because he wants others to know you’re his.)

nerd!caleb who showers you with compliments everyday and takes care of you. making sure you eat and drink enough and that you KNOW that he is utterly helplessly in love with you and only you.

nerd!caleb who’s stupidly smart, always topping all his classes and is the professors assistant that also helps to grade students work. how ironic that his girlfriend is barely passing the course. “no pipsqueak, i can’t raise your gradeee. it’s against the rules,” he pouts. “buuuut, if you’re willing to do me a special favour…maybe i won’t mind.” he smiles cheekily. you scoff at his words.

nerd!caleb who overworks himself during finals and takes it out on you :(( he would be the MEANEST. he’d call you over for a study session but it’ll always end up with him bending you over the table to fuck you stupid until you both turn into a babbling overstimulated mess. he just can’t control himself either!

nerd!caleb who would reward you when you do well on your exams by making you cum over and over again on his tongue that it has you trying your very hardest to squirm away or push his head away. it never works though. he would simply just grab your wrists in one large hand and use the other to hold you down while he swipes his tongue over your clit even faster making you let out a pathetic sob.

nerd!caleb who would fuck you in missionary so that he could analyse every expression and twitch on your face, memorising every single movement with his piercing eyes as if he was trying to solve a difficult quantum mechanical equation. dont even try to turn your face away when you’re embarrassed!! he would simply just wrap his hand around your neck and force you to look at him. no, he doesn’t care if your face is all flushed red or that you can’t take it. he needs to study the way you look when you feel good.

nerd!caleb who starts spewing praises over and over when he’s about to orgasm. he will lean down and kiss you all over your neck and face as he thrusts harder and faster into you, ready to spill his hot, thick cum deep into your cunt. “n-ngh! what a good- ah! girl you are” “yes yes yes princess—hnngh! cum with me please i need you.”

nerd!caleb who needs your scratch marks all over his back and practically wears it like cool battle scars but it only makes you embarrassed every time you see the red lines over his muscular biceps and back 😵‍💫😵‍💫

黎深 ꩜ .ᐟ ZAYNE

nerd!zayne who is a little (just a little 🤏 ) smug and egotistical about his academic intelligence because he truly is prodigious. everyone knows him for his achievements and also for having an insanely LETHALL facecard.

nerd!zayne who has fangirls who take the same course as him and try to come up to him to ask for help with their work. he doesn’t even bat an eye in their direction before blatantly ignoring them before walking off to find his girl!!

nerd!zayne who surprisingly also spends a good portion of his time in the campus gym. as a future cardiologist, he has to stay fit right? unfortunately, that also means forcing YOU to work out with him. “noo zayne, leave me alone and do your nerdy stuff by yourself” oh, he knows you hate it but he would throw you over his shoulder playfully and force you to come anyway. however, that’s just because he wants to watch you all doe eyed, borderline drooling by the weight he’s manhandling so easily around the gym. (he just wants you to watch him but would never admit it)

nerd!zayne who would read every night before bed, having you curled up into his side. one hand on the book as the other holds you close to him as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

nerd!zayne who would always help you with your homework if you were overwhelmed. no, it doesn’t matter if you weren’t in a medical course or not, he would always somehow know the answers or how to help you with your assignments. he’s practically your personal chat gpt..

nerd!zayne who would never admit that he’s jealous when he sees you acting friendly with other guys. and it’s obvious by the way he glares at them wordlessly that he IS possessive over his girl.

nerd!zayne who always has his arm around you in public but would never act overly PDA simply because he knows he can’t control himself.

nerd!zayne who always backs you up in public even if he knows you were wont because he would NEVER talk down on his girl or scold you in front of others but oh so help him god if you were to act bratty or very unreasonable, let’s just say it makes him tick. the moment he’s got you alone, say goodbye to sitting comfortably for the next few days. he would bend you over his lap and spank you until you were crying with your arousal dripping down your thighs onto his lap. he would simply ‘tch’ before fucking his fingers into your cunt and rip them away before you cum and leave you like that as a punishment. my man is 100% a brat tamer.

nerd!zayne who obviously knows more about your body more than you. yes he may be training to be a cardiologist but do you really think he didn’t learn about gynaecology? oh and he would not hesitate to use that against you in bed to turn you dumb and pliant for him. his fingers just know exactly where to press and prod, massaging those yummy spots inside your warm walls that leave you gasping and thighs trembling. you can’t help but try to run away from the stimulation :(( “aww too much hon? it’s okay you can take it. you will.”

nerd!zayne who makes you hold eye contact with him while in the MEANESTT MATING PRESS…and if you look away, he would give you a firm spank on your clit that makes it even harder for your eyes not to roll to the back of your head as you cry out. he would also definitely have you on the edge and begging for it with tears in your eyes from his teasing. it just turns him on so bad that it makes him feral for you.

nerd!zayne who is the type of guy to 100% leave his glasses on as he fucks you dumb knowing that you gets so turned on by him in his framed glasses. the way they fog up as he eats you out or when fucking you and he lets out breathier pants. he would also leave his watch on while fingering you just to see your sticky juices drip down onto his forearm and turn the glass glossier. “nuh uh baby, don’t hold back. you better cum all over my fingers or you won’t get my cock.”

nerd!zayne who would mark you up in places that only he can see and no one else. leaving love bites all over your inner thighs and chest. he’s a proud and firm believer that whatever happens between the both of you stays between you two. unless of course, you manage to piss him off and there might be a little hickey peeping out from the collar of your shirt.

nerd!zayne who would literally get the most enjoyment over you trying to dominate him. unfortunately, it always end up with you getting all whiny and whimpering about how you’re tired that of course he’ll help his princess out by fucking her dumb :( hes more than happy to help!!

nerd!zayne who would definitely have a sensory deprivation kink. he would be into blindfolding you and using his evol on you as a type of ‘temperature play’ knowing that you’re even more sensitive just to make you cum even harder by his cool touch. it brings him joy to hear your little sniffles and the slight jerks of your body.

BONUS!! something i think both of them would go insane over: 🤫

he would die to have you under his desk giving him the best head of his life whilst he tries to focus on completing his assignments but it’s just so hard when he can feel your soft sloppy tongue all over the tip of his needy cockhead while your hands pump up and down his dick.

“n-nngh!— hah! stop, angel-hnn! i can’t focus” he’d stutter with his eyes going nearly crosseyed when he looked down at the lewd state of his hot girlfriend sucking the life out of his dick while doing an assignment so important - worth 40% of his final grade!

eventually he would get tired of your teasing and grab you by the hair, dragging you up and away from his cock before pulling down your panties and stuffing you full that your tummy bulges with the outline of him side you. oh, he would fuck you so hard that you forget your own name and what you were even doing in the first place!

“Pipsqueak, open the fucking door before I break it open myself.” You could hear Caleb’s teeth grinding behind the door to your apartment, along with the bangs of his fists. Immediately you rush towards the door, swinging it open. He was there standing tall in all his fury, his eyes? No longer the sweet purple and kind irises, no definitely not. Now? Pure solid anger looking right back at you. Caleb quickly charged at you, slamming the door behind him while his other hand gripped onto your right wrist, tugging you towards him.

“Zayne? Really?” He panted against your face. 

“Yeah and what is to you, not the one fucking multiple whores on campus. How the fuck do you even know?” A grunt leaves your lips as his grip tightens around your wrist, his hand completely covering it as he kept you flush against him in place.

“Didn’t you fucking hear me? I told you I see everything, pipsqueak.” His hand let go of your wrist, bringing it up to cradle the side of your face. Brushing a couple of loose strands of your hair away. “Dumb little girl, you think that cute bracelet I made you wouldn’t come in handy? I see and hear, everything.” His tone low and cold, barely in a whisper. Now sneaking his arm around the small of your waist. You broke out of his gaze, glancing down at the sleek black bracelet he had gotten you for your birthday. You didn’t think much of it then, it was for sure more up Caleb’s alley than yours, but you still accepted it because it was something from him, and it reminded you of him whenever you looked at it. 

“So you spy on me now?” You snort back, giving him a slight push at his chest but he doesn’t budge, not even a blink. “Shut the fuck up, not here to talk about me. Is this how you’re lowering yourself now? Fucking Zayne out of spite to me? Or is it that you’re that desperate to jump on another dick besides mine?” Caleb spits through his teeth, utterly stabbing you through the heart, more so cutting deep into your long years of your friendship.

SMACK!

Your hand came down across his left cheek without any hesitation, you could hardly recognize who the hell was in front of you, it was past the point of any reconciliation or for him to beg for forgiveness. You watched how his head tilted at the smack of your hand, his eyes glaring up at yours, his own hand coming up to soothe the sting but it’s no use, shocked at your reaction but he knew he had it coming after what slipped out his tongue. Caleb’s hands quickly come at your waist, crashing his lips against yours in a rough and desperate kiss, groaning into his mouth as your hands firmly press down onto his chest, trying to push him away but he remains, quickly winning you over as his tongue slips into your mouth, like putty melting into his touch. The kiss rough and sloppy as strings of saliva connect both of your lips every time he pulls back for air.

“I’ll make you eat your damn words…regret every second you spent moaning for him, you know damn well he could never come close to me, to this.” Caleb groans into your mouth in a promise, sliding his hand down from your waist to the back of your thighs, tightly gripping them before lifting you up into his arms with such ease. Tossing you onto the couch before he fits himself between your legs, his hands pushing your skirt and panties down in one firm tug. His eyes zeroing at your core, still slightly damp from your previous fuck with Zayne. A growl leaves him, and he doesn’t know if that turns him on or angers him more. Caleb could give two fucks about giving you foreplay, spend time teasing you. No, he was going to fuck you. Determined to ruin you all completely. You hear the sound of his zipper come down and without a warning, he plunges his cock into your wet aching hole, and of course he slips in so easily. A smirk forms at his lip as he watches your eyes roll back white, he knew at the end of the day his dick is the one you wanted. Caleb’s pace relentless from the start, deep and quick, pounding you into the couch.

“You--you fucking asshole.” You grit through your teeth, trying to hold back a moan as his cock deliciously drives in and out of your cunt. “God…I hate you.” 

“Oh I’m sure you hate me…i’m sure you fucking do, that’s why you’re getting my dick all fucking wet huh?” He teases you as his grin grows at his lips, his hands reaching down to pull your legs up, letting them hang at his shoulders before letting his weight down on you leaving you breathless. There was no way you could suppress your moans any longer, feeling Caleb much deeper in the position he had you in. 

“No--not as wet as I got him.” You spit back.

“You still won’t shut that mouth huh? Always bitching about something but never moaning enough for my cock.” He grunts, Caleb’s hips keeping their momentum, fast and hard as he reaches your panties from the floor. With his index finger and thumb he forces your mouth open, shoving your cotton panties into your mouth, letting your moans get muffled. Watching through your heavy lidded eyes, you make up the smirk that forms at his lips. Completely satisfied at the sight that he could salivate, a mental picture for later. 

“Cmon baby, say how much you hate me now…say it.” Caleb mumbles through his groans, pushing his cock deeper into you, wanting to bury himself in you, wanting to leave his mark in you, to make you know no one…absolutely no one could fill you the way he does. Letting out a teasing and a mocking chuckle as he only hears your muffled whimpers and moans, loving every second of it. “Mm..so pretty for me, filled with my cock…stuffed with your panties. Fuck--None of those girls could take me the way you do baby, none.” 

Caleb absolutely had you in a trance, moaning his name repeatedly like it was the only thing you knew. The sounds of your slick cunt welcoming him in filling the silence of your living room along with the creaks of your couch beneath the both of you. Tiny stars surrounding your gaze every time you’d look up at him through your lashes, and god did he love that look on you. Wrecked and all dick drunk for him, he could almost fill you to the brim right then and there, but not yet. His fingers pull the panties out your mouth, tossing them somewhere across the room, the aching need to feel and consume your noises winning Caleb over.

His lips captured yours in a deep and needy kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, savoring the taste of your mouth as if it were the last time, which in a way he knew it was and he hated it. The realization hitting him like a ton of bricks, wanting to slow down time but he also felt himself close. The way your warm velvety walls tightened around him, your pussy fitting his dick perfectly as he continued his thrusts. “Please…please i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” Caleb begged into your ear, sneaking his arms beneath your back as he clings onto you. The sounds of your needy cries and whimpers pushing him closer to his own release. “I don’t deserve you--shit… i’m close.” The tone of his voice filled with need and desperation, desperate to keep you in his arms, just his alone. 

Hearing his pleads, your eyes began to well up. Your vision blurry while tears rolled down your cheeks, the direction of your emotions going everywhere. Feeling so good with the man that drove you to insanity, pushing all the right buttons yet this is the same man who could rip your heart out into a million pieces. All you could do was cling to him, digging your nails into the flesh of his back, dragging them down as you leave your last mark on him as your orgasm hits you. Moaning out his name like the countless times you have done before, your body arching towards his. Feeling the way his hands travel down to your waist holding you pressed down against the bed. 

“That’s my girl…let go, let me feel everything.”  He murmurs against your cheek.

Asshole, I was never yours…not even once.

Not even five thrusts after you came, Caleb spills himself into you. Painting your walls white with his seed. He came so much that you felt how it began to leak out of you, making a mess on the fabric of the cushions of the couch. The both of you panting heavily, savoring the aftershocks of your orgasms, Caleb’s breath tickling the skin of your neck while your breath hit the shell of his ear. As he pulls his head out the crook of your neck, Caleb’s eyes take your tears into notice but  he remain silent, gently stroking the wet skin from your cheek dry with his thumb. He could hear this own heart thudding against his chest, seein you like this completely broke him, he fucked up.

He fucked you over, and for what? His own selfishness? Ten minute quickies? A friendship of almost 20 years down the drain. And now? The possibility of being together vanished before his eyes. 

“Hey…I love--” 

“Don’t. Don’t say you love me, Caleb. We’re done…whatever this was…it’s done.” You say quietly, holding back the knot that forms at your throat. Your hands graze at his chest as you push him off you, quickly slipping your panties and skirt on, not bothering to look at him one last time you force yourself down the hall of your apartment. 

Caleb could hear the sobs of your cries behind your bedroom, it pained him and all he could do was stare straight down at his hands, broken. He had no one but himself to blame. He quickly dressed himself up, his eyes glancing around as he takes your place in one last time, everything had your touch. The slightly wilted flowers by your kitchen, the throw blanket by the couch in your favorite color, and all the plushies you kept that he’d win you at the fair. Savoring your unique scent one last time, trying to engrave it in his body and keep a piece of you. Reluctantly his feet lead him to your door, slipping the dogtag you once gifted him off his neck, gently placing it down against the dresser by your door