#calebreader

— 18+ caleb xia (夏以昼) | masturbation, obsession, pseudocest implications, corruption kink

when lust intertwines with desire, it’s devotion, but if it’s with greed is it just pure rot translated to devotion?

college changes people. caleb had seen it with others, his friends, and the people he surrounds himself with. its a bittersweet motion of life, the concept of changing. he too, changed of course. whether its for the better or for worse, sometimes he doesn’t know.

the dust motes swirled as the golden, sunken rays of the sun bled past his blinds. cache of your memorabilia decorated his table: messy, unyielding, and a reflection of his state: him, a heavy mass of a needing flesh and void.

dusk awaits beneath as his backlogs pile up on his table.

next to his manual and borrowed books was a spilled milk, now dried and yellowing. physics equations all discarded, papers crumpled and ripped stacked near his laptop that was nearing its looming battery drainage, the same fate his scientific calculator suffered. his most treasured cache, ransacked by his very own hands shaking from both the withdrawal and the primal need of you.

your purple beaded bracelet, part of his treasured stash, the one you made for him on a random wednesday afternoon, gleamed on his pale wrist, with a thin sheen of sweat extending to his arms.

the instax photo the two of you took on your birthday, cheeks pressed against his, both smiling, laid on top of his open notebook.

each languid stroke of his calloused hands on his aching cock is a deterioration of his promised restraint in the absence of your warmth. when his thumb swipes over his leaking pre on the head, your name rolls off of his tongue—both the salvation of his need and now a sin to confess.

there are still so many more inside his cherished altar he made for you—your scrunchie, your “lost” toothbrush, your favorite laced panties (now missing) with that little ribbon made his skin crawl whenever he imagines you wearing that—inhaling it wholly, nose buried on the fabric as he picks up the pace, grip tightening just a fraction. the thought of folding your knees to your chest as he rams himself deep in your cunt was intoxicatingly damning.

it makes his skin crawl. the hair at the back of his neck standing up every time the rapture overrides his brain—whether its from pleasure or guilt, he cannot distinguish it anymore.

the necklace you gifted him on his birthday laid heavy on his chest, next to his beating heart, clinking faintly as his hips buck to the movement of his own hands, thinking it was yours instead.

he wanted nothing more than to ruin you. to see you pliant beneath him—unsure whether to beg for more or for him to stop as he slowly pushes inside, feeling your warm and velvety walls clamp on him, desperate to fill the space with his name etched in forever.

his shirt clings uncomfortably on his skin, the heat and desperation finally catching up as sweat beaded on his temple, trickling down to his jaw, his bangs sticking to his forehead as the sun sets. the darkness of dusk hanging low and gradually swallowing his room and ultimately soonest— him.

caleb knew it was… well. wrong.

‘wrong’ to desire you. to ache for your warmth when you’re around and during your absence. ‘wrong’ to wish to give you everything you’d desire and ask for. to hope he’d be the one you’d call when things went to shit, like your partner suddenly broke up with you (totally not his doing), or when life happens for you in general. he often wished it would be him at your side at the end of every day. for you to depend on him in all ways possible. him. him. him.

him.

“ah—fuck,” he grunted. his body, now spent and trembling, stomach knotting as euphoria washes all over him and beneath his skin— dusk finally settling down and somehow, he’s still buzzing for more.

the stream of the streetlights flicking on outside illuminates past his blinds and on the mess he’d made of himself, for you and in the memory of you. tyndall particles hung suspended in the air he now suffocates with.

his heart thrummed against his throat as his stomach sinks deeper to the grave he dug himself as he stared on his desk full of you.

still so afraid to admit that his actual fear is losing you. of himself—consumed by his sickly sweet devotion of whatever you’d ask of him to be.

he’s afraid of his own greed too, his actions rooted in care and restraint and how he shows up for you. that eventually the two of you would have to part ways, worse than what college already did. he’s afraid of his resolve crumbling from the two possibilities: the more he gets from you or the less you give to him.

his own greed and love overflowing past what he’s supposed to just be. a brother. maybe.

college changes people—through various factors. distance. relationships. responsibilities and many more. he had seen it with others, his friends, and the people he surrounds himself with.

its nauseating, the concept of changing.

but he too, changed of course. whether its for the better or for worse, he doesn't know, or better yet, doesn't wanna face which is which, really.

“the dark,” is what he’d answer when you when you ask him what his biggest fear is. you’d roll your eyes at him and comment how silly it was, how natural his hands would find your hair and ruffle it as you lean on him. he could easily say your name, but how can he simply explain it to you that you’re both his undoing and salvation? he’d devour you if you want. one breath, one look, he’d willingly fuck himself up to appease you and the appetite to consume you.

his phone chimes and lights up— the thickness of charged silence and his rumination in the middle of his grim and dark room shatters.

rdr_whyn: r u going home this weekend? i saw a new cafe on my way home earlier. if you’re free we can go check it out. my treattt :p

he grabs a towel and wipes himself clean before standing up to stretch. the retch of his nausea and bliss settled beneath like a second skin.

xia_clb: yes

xia_clb: consider the date marked, see you soonest. :)

he turned off his phone with a click after staring at your conversation thread for a moment before slumping back in his chair again, running his hands on his hair and absentmindedly reaching for his necklace. the dusk has long settled beneath.

and it was only a matter of time until it settles beneath yours too.

yna’s note 𓍼ོ i was supposed to upload this with the zuko and sylus fic i’m working on rn lols but wtv anw congrats to those who got caleb last banner ): AAAA