#almost decided not to post this one either

[leah-lover]

Sketches. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Summary: what happens when Ingrid and mapi discover the sketches r drew of them.

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Doom scrolling on your phone after practice was your favorite activity of the day. You would come home exhausted, throw your kitbag in the hallway, and cocoon in your coach for about an hour.

Today was no different. You got home and did the same thing. You opened TikTok, and scrolled half mindedly. One video though grabbed your attention. It was a tik tok from the official page of Barcelona where your teammates were asked to describe you in a few words.

Cata was the first to answer and she did so by describing you as quiet. It was fair you didn't talk much if at all. It's not that you weren't comfortable enough with the team, you were just a quiet person. Irene was next and she called you kind which put a smile on your face. All your teammates called you different versions of sweet, kind, funny, quiet, and shy. You found their words endearing and it almost brought you to tears. This reaction quickly went away after you heard what mapi described you. “ Talented artist.” your face turned white and your heartbeat was accelerating. Her answer was followed by Ingrid who described you as an “ impressive painter.”

You dropped your phone quickly. “ No it can't be. No no no no. Fuck!!” You got up from the couch and tried to keep yourself busy. You put away your kit bag, did laundry , cleaned the house surprisingly thoroughly. You even meal prepped. all of this so that you wouldn't think about that video, their response, and what most likely saw.

Your alarm found you awake for the first time since the champion’s league final which spoke greatly to the anxiety you were experiencing. The thought of being face to face with them knowing that they know your secret terrified you but had to go to training so you did, and your mission was to get through the day without making contact with them because if you did you would either cry or throw up and that wasn't an option.

“ Nena what's wrong?” Asked Alexia at the meeting room.

“ Nothing capi everything is good.” You say trying to contain your tears. That's when she held your hand and redirected her focus to the coach. She rubbed her thumb across your knuckles once in a while. Once the meeting was over she pulled you gently out of the room and to a different room.

“ We are not getting out of this room until you tell me what is wrong.” Alexia looked so gentle, caring and a little bit worried. But you couldn't tell her what was wrong.

“ Nena I love you and I care about you deeply. Your anxiety is clearly through the roof. Just let me help you. We decided that you would let me help, remember.” She put her hand on your shoulder and desperately waited for an answer.

Alexia was like a big sister to you. She helped you survive your time in Barca but your issue right now was within the team not the pressure or the limelight and you know there was nothing to fix it.

“ I want a transfer. I want to leave Barcelona. I want to leave. “ You close your eyes so that you won't cry.

“ It's okay pequena everything is gonna be okay. I can fix this, whatever this is I can fix it. Trust me.” She pulled you in for a hug. Your anxiety was through the roof and the voices in your head were screaming vile and scary things at you.

“ I want to leave ale. I am serious.” You try to say sturnely.

“ You are one of your best strikers. We need you now more than ever if we want to quadruple again. And we do so you are staying.” She just held you as you cried some more.

Once you calmed down you apologized to Alexia. “ I guess you aren't gonna tell me right?” she asked again.

“ It's just about a stupid video.” You tried to stop the words as they were coming out of your mouth but it was too late.

“What video?” She asked suspiciously.

“ A video posted by the Barca page. It's nothing to worry about. Sorry capi, I didn't mean to freak out.”

“ It's fine Nena if you don't feel like training you can go home. “ She proposed after realizing you won't say anything.

“ Yeah I think that is a good idea.” You went to the locker room, grabbed your bag and left. Alexia then pulled out her phone and searched for the video you were talking about. She watched it 3 times and her teamates’s answers seemed fine, but she got suspicious of mapi and Ingrid's answers so she went to talk to them.

“ Maria, Ingrid, I need to talk to you.” Demanded the captain. They complied and waited for her at the side of the pitch.

“ Where is Nena?” Asked mapi.

“ That's what I am here to talk to you about. She went home now. I just managed to calm her down but she isn't okay. She was crying and she said she wanted a transfer from this team. She also said something about a video the social media team posted. I didn't understand anything.” Mapi and Ingrid gave one another a look they both understood. They knew what troubled you and they felt bad for it.

“ Don't worry about it ale. We will make things right, I promise you.” Said Ingrid.

“So you did something wrong. You hurt her somehow” Alexia started to frown with anger.

“ Ale calm down, I will tell you everything just not now. Everything will be alright tomorrow.”

“Well it better fucking be or you will answer to me.” added the captain before leaving.

When you arrived home your head was pounding because of the crying so you headed straight to your bedroom, got under the covers and slept almost immediately, too tired to do anything else. You only woke up when your phone was buzzing under your pillow.

“ Hola” you answered without checking who is calling.

“ Hola Nena, I need you to open the door. We are standing outside.” Said a familiar voice.

You put your phone to the side and went straight to your door not realizing what you were doing.

Once you opened the door, your eyes opened wide, surprised at who was at your door. You stood there like a statue trying desperately to calm the voices in your head.

“Nena , please let us in, we need to talk to you.” said ingrid in the gentlest voice you ever heard.

You couldn't kick them out so you stepped aside and let them get in. By the time you got to the living room your heart was beating very fast, each breath was harder and harder and the walls around you started to close in on you. Mapi was the first one to notice so she came running towards you. She took your hand, guided you to the couch and started to construct you to take deep breaths.

“ I am gonna leave. Transfer window is in 2 weeks so the coach has enough time to secure a deal with a new team. Even if they dont we can fake an injury for the media and I can just stay home until the summer where we can look again for another deal. You don't have to worry about anything. I won't cause any problems i swear. . ” you say once you get your breath back.

“ nena why do you think anybody wants you to leave?” askes ingrid.

“ I know you think I am a creep, I understand that. I don't want to cause any problems within the team so I am leaving.” you try to say as calmly as you can.

“ nena we don't think you are creepy.” replied mapi. You look at them with confusion. What if you understood everything all wrong? what if you had jumped to false confusion? What if this was all a misunderstanding from you part?

“ You said in that video that I draw really well. I never showed you any of my drawings so that means that you saw them.” you try to piece everything together.

They both look at eachother hesitantly before ingrid starts talking.

“ The other day in the locker room you wanted to talk to the physio and left your ipad open, that's when I saw a drawing of myself and I zoomed out to see the full picture. I then accidentally swiped and saw that you drew a few portraits of me and mapi separately and together.” you knew that they saw the portraits, but hearing the words come out of ingrid’s mouth made the situation much worse for you. Those drawings were something sacred and intimate to you. You expressed your every thought through them. They were your safe space and they gave solace. But now they have changed into a nightmare that would force you to leave your favorite place in the world.

“ Did you see all of them?” your voice seemed to have shrunk and as you ask the question staring at the floor.

“ yes but we don't think it's creepy. We think it's beautiful that you drew us.” mapi didn't know what to say. She was afraid that she said the wrong thing and made the situation worse.

“ mapi you saw 79 portraits of you and your girlfriend on my ipad. Very detailed portraits of the two of you that I drew when I was near you in the meeting room or training or the dinner hall or even my own bedroom and you don't think that that’s a little bit sick.” you ask the question sarcastically.

“ No we don't. look we didn't come here to fight with you or reprimand you we….” you didn't let ingrid finish her sentence, you instead got up, grabbed your ipad and displayed the portraits for them.

“ You seriously don't think this portrait is creepy.” you show them a portrait you drew of them kissing. You weren't thinking of how embarrassing this moment was, you were trying to convince yourself that they hate you because it was better than the alternative. “ Look, I hate myself for this more than you could ever hate me. That's why I want to leave. I am not going to make you feel uncomfortable anymore. “

“ can you please just shut up for a moment. We don't hate you, we don't find you creepy, we liked what we saw, and we think you are very talented. Please don't turn this into something it's not. And please don't ask for a transfer.” mapi didn't mean for her words to come out like that but she couldn't stand seeing the hurt on your face.

“ Look what Maria means to say is that it's all good with us. You don't have to worry about anything and that we are sorry we brought it up in the first place.” ingrid then extended her arms and offered you a hug which you took. You hugged her and mapi again as they left your apartment. Once you found yourself alone in your house again you grabbed your ipad and smashed it to the ground cracking the screen. You left it there on the ground and went straight to bed.

While you slept soundly the couple were the ones that would stay awake late at night.

' you shouldn't have said it like that maria.’ reprimanded ingrid.

“ What did you want me to do? I couldn't just sit there and let her insult herself.” defended mapi.

“ I don't think we handled it right. We should have talked to her more.”

“ you have seen her when she closes herself off. You can't break through when she does that. Once she convinced herself with something you can't undo it. And now she convinced herself that we hate her which isn't true.”

“ We have to find a way to convince her otherwise. She can't leave.”

“ she won't, amor.”

The next day was travel day and you were the first on that bus. You sat in the front, put on your head phones and closed your eyes. The team knew from alexia not to bother you and alexia was informed by ingrid and mapi to let them handle your situation.

You didn't hear anybody get on the bus, you only realized what was happening when the bus started moving. You weren't bothered for the first 20 minutes of the ride but that didn't last long because somebody snatched an airpod from your ear.

“ No iPad today?” asked a smiling mapi who sat next to you . Ingrid sat in front of you.

“ No, I gave that up.”

“ It's a shame you were very good at it.” she responded.

“ Since when did you start drawing?” asked ingrid.

“ since I was a kid. My therapist used to encourage me to do it because I wasn't so good at expressing what i am feeling.”

“ and these drawings help you express your feelings?” you knew what ingrid was getting to and you didn't want to go there so you went for your phone to try and increase the volume of the airpod left in your ear but ingrid’s hand got to it first.

“ Yesterday we were scared that we would say the wrong thing. But today I would rather say the wrong thing than lose you nena.” what ingrid said shocked you.

“ So you were saying that drawing helps you express things right?” continues mapi.

“ yeah. I am not very good at words. I never was so I drew all the words I couldn't say. “

“ Do you have your ipad with you?” asked ingrid.

“ No, I don't have an ipad anymore i smashed it yesterday.”

“ why?”

“ because….” you were quickly interrupted by mapi “ don't you dare say it's creepy.”

A staff member interrupts your conversation by putting an envelope on the table.

“ room 1209, 3 beds like you asked.” she said looking at mapi.

“ What did you do?” you ask confused.

“ I am making sure you are not leaving.”

The bus stopped so you couldn't continue the conversation. You weren't left any room to protest the decision that was made for you as the couple were more stubborn than you are.

Once you got in the room you were hit with the reality that you were going to have to sleep in the same room as them.

“ mapi i can't stay here.”

“ why not?”

“ You know the reason why.”

“ No we dont.” said ingrid.

“ Please don't make me go through this. I promise I won't leave, just please don't make me.”

“ I don't understand why you are so upset right now. We are just going to share a room.

The couple knew that playing dumb would anger you enough that you would start talking. The melancholic look on their faces hit the nail on the head.

“ i cant be here because of the same reason i drew those fucking drawing.. I tried to get you out of my head by drawing you and fantasizing about you but i can't stay stop whatever i am feeling from coming out when i'm sleeping and you are cuddling next to me.”

“ Why would that bother you?” they continued to play on your built up anger.

“ It bothers me because I want to be in the middle of you. I want to be with you. That's why I drew you, that's why I fantasize about it and that's why I can't sleep here.” you weren't realizing what you were saying not until you said it and it hit you like a truck.

Suddenly , you see the couple moving two beds together, taking off their shoes, and laying on the bed. Ingrid then taps on the space between them calling you over.

“ you gotta be fucking kidding me?” you say.

“ We knew what you felt the day we saw you drawing but we thought we were just reaching or projecting our feelings towards you. Since yesterday we were trying to get you to admit your feelings so that we would do too but you kept on insulting yourself which was nice by the way so we resulted in playing dumb which clearly worked. “ said mapi.

“ We care about you, we don't want to lose you. We don't have to figure out everything right now so just come and lay with us please. “ added ingrid.

You were moving on autopilot when you took off your shoes and layed in the middle of the bed between them . you stared at ingrid’s eyes for long time before you moved or spoke.

“ Your eyes are so beautiful I could never capture them in a drawing.” you then look over at mapi “ and you smile i don't think i have never seen it up close. This is too much.” you try to get up but they stop you.

“ We don't have to do anything right now.” mapi handed you a notebook and a pen.

“ Why don't you draw this moment now.” you take the pen and the biggest smile spreads on your face as you get up, look at them, and start drawing as they admired you.

[commandertartarsmoocher]

This is not an AC/DC reference

Two versions because I think both are neat!

[ellecdc]

hello!! its me again😜, I've had this hyperfixation on poly!maraudersx reader x lily trope . I was wondering you can make an ff of like the reader is in another house and is a quidditch player, and theres a match between gryffindor and her perspective house and she feels really anxious because if her house won she would let them down and if gryffindor won she would feel guilty ro celebrate with them. 🩷🩷

this was a very cute idea!! thank you for the prompt <3

poly!marauders + Lily x fem!reader who plays for Hufflepuff [1.2k words]

CW: reader is in Hufflepuff, no house rivalry between our lovers

This game had been causing you more anxiety than you cared to admit.

Somehow, this far into your relationship with the Gryffindor’s, you haven’t had to play against the Gryffindor house since the season started, which seemed very odd considering they were one of only three teams that you could play.

But alas, you had managed to avoid the awkwardness of not only cheering against your partners’ team, but actually playing against two of them for a blissful stretch of time. 

Your luck had run out, however, and you could avoid it no longer as the Hufflepuff keeper. 

You found yourself in a tough position; if Hufflepuff lost, you’d feel horribly traitorous to be celebrating the Gryffindor team, but you couldn’t not celebrate when two of your boyfriend’s played for the team. However, if Hufflepuff won, you’d feel terribly guilty celebrating, feeling as though you were rubbing your victory in their faces. 

Either way, you were bound to lose.

So when Hufflepuff won, your feet had barely touched the ground before you were leaping from your broom and racing off the pitch, bypassing the showers at the quidditch pitch and fleeing to your dormitory, quickly showering and changing and making it to the kitchens before the no doubt raucous after-party could begin in the Hufflepuff common room.

This was better, you decided. This way you wouldn’t be rubbing your win in your partners’ faces; Remus and Lily wouldn’t have to worry about hurting Sirius and James’ feelings, and Sirius and James wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy for your sake. 

“Should Miss not be in her dormitory to celebrate?” Feenky asked as you watched her prepare a batch of pumpkin juice. 

“It’s just a party of one tonight, Feenky.” You reassured her. If she seemed unconvinced, she didn’t mention it.

“Well, Feenky thinks that Feenky has something for an athlete such as yourself around here somewhere.” She mumbled mostly to herself as she abandoned her task to search for something in some sort of storage closet. 

“There you are, angel!” You heard James shout, startling you so badly that you flinched almost violently and sent a mug of pumpkin juice toppling off of the kitchen island that you were leaning against.

With a lazy flick of her wand (and a haughty smirk), Lily quickly righted your cup and set it gently back down on the island before it could make contact with the ground. 

You grimaced as you turned to face your four partners, ready to be scolded for running off the pitch without saying hello to anyone, for winning the game, or for hiding, you weren’t sure. But you found your mouth falling open in shock as you turned to see your four Gryffindor’s completely decked out in Hufflepuff colours. 

“Wha-” You started, but quickly had the air knocked out of you when Sirius pulled you into him and spun you around.

“You were fucking fantastic!” He exclaimed as he put you back down onto your feet, hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling you in for a searing kiss.

It was only when you finally pulled away from Sirius (only to be pulled backwards into James’ front) did you notice that his hair was still wet from his own post-game shower.

“What are you guys doing down here?” You managed finally.

“We rushed after the game to come down for your after-party!” James responded for you, pressing a kiss to your jaw before relinquishing his hold on you when Lily came in for her own. 

“You really did look phenomenal out there, darling.” She murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I wasn’t surprised, though. If anyone can give these two a well earned run for their money, it’s you.” 

“Thank Merlin.” Remus muttered with a fond eye roll, ignoring one indignant ��oi!’ from James and one ‘we duel at dawn, Moony’ from Sirius as he leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so proud of you.” He continued earnestly.

“You guys aren’t upset?” You asked, hating how small you sounded. Hating even more the way the four of them nearly recoiled in surprise before sharing confused glances with one another.

“Upset?” Sirius repeated bemusedly. “Why on earth would we be upset?” 

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant as your face heated up nearly painfully in embarrassment. “Well…I-”

“Angel,” James cooed as he placed a hand on each of your upper arms and forced you to look at him, “did you think we were going to be upset that you beat us?”

“Well-” You attempted to explain, but Lily interjected.

“Can you blame the poor girl? You two are not gracious losers in the slightest.” She taunted, squealing when Sirius jabbed his fingers into her sides and tickled her in punishment for ‘the absolute slander you ridiculous, beautiful witch’.

“Nah.” James offered casually. “I’m happy to lose to our girl any day. Everyone else better watch their backs, though.”

“You guys are insane.” You sighed not unhappily, leaning back into James’ embrace as he nestled his face into the juncture of your neck.

“Is that why you’re hiding in here, dove? You weren’t going to celebrate at all?” Remus asked you softly, and Lily and Sirius both paused in their banter in order to tune back into the conversation. 

“It felt sort of…rude…” You admitted shyly, and Remus’ fond ‘awe’ and Lily’s saccharine ‘our sweet girl’ did nothing to tame the fire now roaring beneath your cheeks as James tightened his embrace around your middle and spun you around.

“Well now we’re just going to celebrate you that much harder! Our sweet little puffle.” He nearly sang as he placed you back onto your feet, Sirius arching his brow and gesturing to himself. 

“You haven't commented on how good we look, dollface.”

You weren’t even sure where they all got Hufflepuff jumpers, cardigans, and scarves from, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask when they looked so sodding cute.

“I think I look smashing in yellow.” Sirius continued simply, nodding at his own decree as he looked to the rest of you for agreement. 

“Honestly? I think it might be Rem’s new colour.” Lily stated earnestly, and the four of you got to watch Remus blush furiously as you all fussed over how well he wore the colour yellow. 

“Alright, alright. Enough chit chat.” Remus demanded; both an attempt to redirect the conversation from himself and an attempt to leave the kitchens. “We have a party to attend and a Hufflepuff to celebrate.” 

You accepted his extended hand and he pulled it up to his lips for a kiss before the five of you made your way out of the kitchens and followed the sounds of the thrumming bass pulsing from your common room.

[qsycomplainsalot]

So as a good NB bisexual trad wife married to a Jewish trans person I was in church this morning trying my hardest not to fall asleep on the good lord's shittiest seating arrangement, as is custom. Cutting right to it, the sermon was weird. What I listened to was a French translation of a text by one Gary Heinz, whom I've been told is a Canadian pastor but the only one I could find online is from the Carolinas, with a degree from Charleston, so for the purpose of this post I'll just say he's American in the same vague way as his tomato-based namesake.

The sermon was talking about the tale of the good Samaritan, which most people know about, and was composed thuszthly. First it goes over the tale again, then it helps define the elements of it and how they're relevant to the point made by our boy Jesus. The priest sees a naked beat-up man on the side of the rode, presumably from a mount, and decides not to get involved even though if he had any way to know the man had been Jewish he would have been bound to help him. The second man is a Levite, traditionally someone who helps priests and knows the law just as well, but decides not to get involved either. The third guy of course is a Samaritan. The Samaritans are a distinct but very closely related ethnoreligious group to the Hebrews/Jews, who we are often told hate them. The Samaritan helps the person, provides first aid, props him up on his horse and walks him to an inn where he houses him by giving the innkeeper two pieces of silver and promising to pay any extra cost on his next trip back. This according to the preacher is a symbol of limitless charity, we'll get back to that. The context of the tale was a smartass asking Jesus what to do to be saved and when being told to do unto thy neighbor as you would doeth unto thineselfe (in Middle English, which was very confusing at the time), follows up by asking who his neighbor was, aka who he should apply the law to. The point being made is that although the law could be read and almost bent into only applying to people you care about, only people you're explicitly meant to treat well and even then only once you're absolutely sure they're marked as such, it's more important to follow the spirit of the law which is to be kind to everyone. Which is a good message.

So why am I kvetching ? That was only the first part of the sermon, and if you thought the second part would be about linking that message to current event you'd unfortunately be wrong. It's instead focused on finding, or making up really, symbolism in the story that foretells the passion of Jesus. You see the Samaritan was really a stand-in for anyone you might hate, including, and I quote, "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", because even they can be saved and be your neighbor for the purpose of doing unto them like unto thyself. And the two silver coins well you see they would pay for two nights and on the third one Jesus comes back from the dead. Now I'm not an expert on the cost of living in Ancient Judea. But Gary Heinz isn't either so I'm gonna say it, he pulled that number out of his ass. Also a little confused about the same storytelling element being earlier compared to limitless charity, only now to be quantified as worth two nights at a B&B. But that's just nitpicking, what I'm really tired of is every reading of the holy texts [cut to meme] by Christian preachers devolving into improv rapping about Jesus and how he died for us. The lessons in the Bible stop being broadly applicable to daily life and are instead contrived into fifty different ways to say "he is risen" like it's isn't the sole fucking reason we're in church to begin with. That's usually bad enough, but when a pastor says that the Samaritan in the tale of the good Samaritan was here for shock value and could be "a Nazi or a member of ISIS", this changes the meaning of the tale to "be kind to everyone regardless of who they are, including Nazis apparently", from the original condemnation of prejudices. The Samaritan didn't chose to be a Samaritan, he's not doing any harm being a Samaritan, and the tale shows that his religion being slightly removed from orthodox Judaism isn't as important as his doing good and helping his fellow man. I don't think someone who joined a political party predicated on the extermination of minorities would fit that message, and I think changing said message to a more broad declaration of love from Jesus is ignoring what people need to hear these days where prejudice against minorities makes up 90% of the news.

And you might say it's not really a preacher's job to raise awareness for current events, but I'll ask you this: is hearing about how Jesus totally died for you every week supposed to make me a better Christian ? Or is learning that he told us pretty much in clear text not to hate minorities based on prejudice gonna do that. Cause I think most Christians need to hear the later more.

[ch-4-eri]

Hi, I hope you had a good day

Can you write DI Jill x reader smut (age gap plz) that would contain SCISSORING (I'm tired of strapons I love pussies)

(Death island Jill is my favorite if she wont be in my bed on 14th February im gonna quit it)

Love your work!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!

Jill X fem! Reader.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, slight angst, sad Jill, post death island Jill, scissoring, cursing. Smut, porn with plot, vanilla sex lowkey, Jill is much much older and reader is of legal age.

Word count: 1.7k

Guys I can fix her, I swear.

Your mom’s best friend had an almost near death experience at her job, which is almost every mission.

Jill Valentine has been your mom’s best friend for at least a good decade now, they both met at a support group and the friendship took off, surely a trauma bond lasts a lifetime.

As you both picked up the woman from the airport as she decided to unwind and forget about the horrible island she was talking about, in so little detail— knowing Jill for that long, she’s a woman of mystery, doesn’t say much but does say enough for you to grasp the full picture that lacks detail.

You were in the backseat as your mom drove— Jill staring outside the window with her beat up clothes, you’ve no idea if she liked ripped clothes or she’s just too busy to buy new clothes— either way, she was perfect, she smells nice and takes good care of herself, her almost greying hair perfectly trimmed and tucked behind her ear, she cuts her hair like a mother— not that she has kids, or even wants any.. which is fair.

Your eyes were taking in every detail about her, the way she was sitting, her hands calloused and placed atop her thighs as your mother was making conversation, dragging words out of her… barely so.

She turned to look at your mother which caused you to catch a glimpse at her nose, her blue eyes shining as the aging lines around her eyes were more prominent than last time you’ve seen, and before her visit to that island.

Jill felt eyes on her as she caught you staring, turning those to the backseat, giving you a half assed smile adults give to children and looking away, surely you’re no kid— but to Jill? It kind of doesn’t matter.

Deep down you’d take any kind of attention from her.

You always kicked yourself for thinking of that woman that way, Jill seems like the untouchable kind of woman— anyone’s lucky to even talk to her. you’ve no idea why she gives off that sort of energy… maybe because your mother is her only persistent friend outside of her job ones, and even so she barely talks, you’re curious, you wanna know more, and it grows to an attraction or even an obsession on your behalf.

Each time your mother brings her up, you’re tense, the hair on the back of your neck stands and your heart races, not even in fear, Jill was never threatening around you or your mother despite the training and whatever she’s capable of, and you know exactly what she can get away with.

But she’s a good person, and a good friend, and your mother loves her… so do you, except it’s a different kind of love, or maybe lust, a mere curiosity about the woman with decent intentions and morals, seeing it in her eyes as your mother insults a bad driver on the road and Jill just shushes her, she’s perfect, looks innocent even.

And you know she’s not, not even close.

You tossed and turned next to your mother in bed that night as you gave your room to Jill so she can rest on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor or the couch like she usually argues to do so.

And the thought of her sleeping on your bed is driving you crazy, your bed will smell like her, have her fucking perfect face on your pillows.

The overwhelming feeling made you sit up, not even in the mood to sleep at this point as your mind circled around the same thing, you wanted her.

To talk? Let her open up to you? Oh god she’s asleep on your bed.

And it’s like your legs had a mind of their own, you slowly got out of your mom’s bedroom, and closed the door— letting out a breath so heavy you felt your lungs shake.

Your room was right there, the door closed as Jill was right behind it, on your damned bed.

Your shaky hand was placed on the doorknob as you twisted the handle, allowing yourself to be creepy just this once as the desperation was eating you alive, making you feel smaller.

What if she gets mad? You never saw Jill angry, she’s incapable of being disrespectful like that, she’s too perfect, no matter how much she argues she isn’t.

You saw her awake and staring up at the ceiling, her gaze falling on you, and again; Jill would never be angry with you.

“Hi, sorry.. I just wanted something.” You lied, closing the door behind you.

“No worries.” Jill spoke up, the sound of her voice sending chills down your spine, you needed a fucking grip. “You alright?” You ask, not caring about the act of needing something from your bedroom at this point, what you wanted was her, to talk— to fuck— god anything.

“Just thinking.” Jill responds after a moment of silence, knowing she’s trying not to open up like usual, maintaining her secrets but still keeping a firm honesty— no matter how much it lacked, but you were so done with that, you wanted her to talk, say more, cry it out, anything.

You sat on the edge of the bed and faced her and she looked even more beautiful like this, wearing a gray tank top that barely covers anything, your eyes trying their hardest not to slip up, keeping them on hers instead.

“You can talk to me, you know?” You start, maybe just maybe this would get her to talk, it’s late and Jill looked vulnerable, worn out even. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Goddamn it, it was too close.

“Why not?” You found yourself arguing, were you that desperate? Perhaps, you absolutely were. Jill raised an eyebrow at your persistence, straightening back as she tilted her head. “Because, I don’t want to.” Jill replied, her tone firm like she needs you to stop arguing back if that’s what you were trying to do.

You gulped, you wanted to argue, wanted to tell her off, wanted to let her know she’s got you, that you were right here; anything.

“You should go to bed.” Jill ordered, her tone as firm as a moment ago, making you narrow your eyes in challenge.

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I know you wanna talk and I’m not leaving until you do.” You said, not sure what the hell’s gotten into you, and now Jill was starting to look pissed, a sight you haven’t seen before, maybe part of you was relieved you provoked her, maybe she’d say something, do anything.

She doesn’t say anything for now, you know she’s thinking something over in that head of hers, wishing you had a clue what the fuck it was. “Come here.” Jill gestured at you to come closer. Her fingers pointing at the bed, opening the blanket, her long legs exposed to your hungry eyes as you gulped.

“I said come here.” Jill repeats, her voice louder now, like she’s holding back yelling at you in the middle of the night. You obliged, unsure how you did so— all you could think about were her legs.

You came closer to her, crawling on the bed in front of her, watching the way her eyes studied you, her lips parted with anticipation as she grabbed your waist and brought you closer forcefully, feeling how strong her grip was, making you bite on your lip.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about it?” Jill asked, her fingers splaying themselves on your hip, keeping you close in such a strong grip and that’s just one hand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Jill whispered, her other hand coming up to part your knees for her, gripping your thigh as she picked you up and brought you into her lap, like you weigh nothing. “That I’m so fucking tired; I’m so fucking sick of everything?” She whispered into your ear, her tone strained like she’s holding back the tears and the despair she’s felt for so so long.

“What do you want to hear?” Jill asked, her voice choked with tears. She wanted to cry but she refused to, her leg moving around your hip. Bringing you closer, her mouth placed near your neck. “I want you talk to me about it, maybe I could help—“

“You can’t help me doll.” Jill whispered, her breathing fanning your neck, her hands placed on your waist. “Nobody could.” She adds, positioning your middle on top of hers. Her hips slowly moving against yours, desperate for any kind of friction. “Jill—“ you gasped, catching a hold of her shoulders as you were both bumping against each other.

“Please doll just let me do this.” Jill begged, her hands gripping your hips hard as her clothed pussy was sliding up into yours, the fabric so wet as it bumped against her clit and made her bite into her lip, trying not to scream at the pent up feelings and frustrations, your eyes were glued to pussy, you wanted a taste, to feel her throb in your mouth, your pussy cumming at the friction as Jill moaned, her hands moving your hips with her full strength with both your panties soaked, Jill’s fingers moved in between you two and rubbed at both your clits, her breathing strained as she lifts her fingers up and shoves them into your mouth.

Seeking pleasure from the way you suck on her fingers, her other hand bringing your lower back closer as she chased her high, you had no idea your legs could do that, it was not a common position but it felt fucking amazing with your mouth full of Jill’s fingers and her pretty pussy fucking into your own, “come on— cum inside of me baby.” She urged, bringing your hip closer, pushing your pussy into hers. “Need you to cum inside of me.” Jill pants, too focused on her pretty eyes, mesmerised by her entire being, your noises were soft whimpers and whines as she got wetter at the sound of them.

“Jill—“ you called her name, your muscles spasming as you let out a choked gasp, your cum mixing with Jill’s as you both orgasmed at the same time, your foreheads pressed together and you both panted at the feeling, holding Jill’s shoulders while hers held your hips.

“I better not hear you ask anything else about me,” Jill requests, lifting your hips to get you off of her.

“You know enough doll, now trust me and get some sleep.” She says, slipping out of bed to get you cleaned up before you’d sleep. Leaving you dumbfounded and flustered.

[starry-fame]

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

[gideonisms]

THE number one most irritating thing about life is deciding when you're meant to speak or make eye contact and when you're not, and for how long and how many phrases you're meant to say at a time

[pagesofkenna]

Ratfish pt 2 spoilers

we've truly come full circle

[kathybluecaller]

Finally got around drawing Aioros :D

[buttercupshands]

I just managed to get off mha hyperfixation

And now it's happening again... Oh no

Helps with upcoming MHUI LoV event tho, it was a long time since last one happened I wonder what would happen in a new filler story part

Basically this and couple of pages of mid-final arc chapters + recent episode and next one being The Dabi episode was just too much not to get excited again

But! Important thing - I need to reread the last arc before I make anything new, if possible without finishing it to the 419 chapter and everything after, it took 2 months to really recover from the damage that chapter did

Anyway am I ready for the new event? Kinda! Do I have enough gems to get new Tomura? No! I'm not sure he'll even show up this time, because other ones were and still are really stubborn

Also Steampunk recruit took like 120 pulls in a step-up recruit and in the usual one combined

Not the best time to get LoV involved, it's cruel even

Also that one part of the page I added at the beginning was so interesting to look at and them I joked about 236 being similar. The only good thing with final arc being over is that I can say that Izuku didn't draw the parallel of seeing everyone hurt and seeing Tenko react on Mon's death

Understandable why, but it's funny to just look at them and be like, "wow Horikoshi traumatized them both"

[todayisafridaynight]

Tune In Next Time For The Kirby Opinions Tier List

I GOT YOU COVERED

[doverstar]

so far taylor swift’s new album is…not…good?

[girlbob-boypants]

It's actually interesting the number of people who have essays of posts on this website discussing ableism both in the games and by gamers towards in game characters, who also have downright awful takes about accessibility features as mundane as a pause button

[pillowprinx]

i know well that you’re bad for me your eyes and the way you move. I try to get away from you but being brainwashed, all I can do is nod

references used

[bearenjoyers]

whennnnn did victor actually start killing people i have got to know. was it before or after gus found him. hello.

[be-good-to-bugs]

having ocs is great until you have to organize them