#owlettie's works

[0wlettie]

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: you've been avoiding caleb recently because you've just realized how you truly feel about him, but when life hits you hard one day, you realize that you might need him more than you thought you would...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 16.9k, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, clingy, crybaby!reader, pet names (princess, good girl), light D/s dynamics, crying (but in sexy way), dirty talk, slight degradation/dumbification, possessive behavior, (because it wouldn't be a caleb fic if he wasn't at least a little bit possessive) fingerfucking, pussy eating, unprotected sex, subspace but it isn't really talked about, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, under-negotiated kink

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you want to read there ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: this is my first ever lads piece and i worked very hard on this absolute monster of a fic, so i hope whoever happens to come across this enjoys it; beta'd by me so any mistakes are my own; title comes from IKUK by ONEUS because i played the fuck outta that song writing this and it slaps ! as this is nsfw Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked)

Burying yourself further into the depths of your hoodie, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. The elevator is currently out of commission; some sort of mechanical error, the bright orange note taped to the cautioned off doors stated, so you’re forced to make the grueling journey to the seventh floor by stairs alone.

After an eight-hour long shift working at a department store nearly an hour away by bus, you’re maybe a little more than upset at the prospect of being on your feet longer than you really have to be. Unfortunately, you’re left with little other options at this point. It wasn’t like you could magically teleport to the seventh floor. Sighing long and loud, you rub your eyes.

“Fucking whatever, man.” You grumble to yourself, readjusting your bookbag before turning around and heading to the stairs. The sight of all those floors is intimidating, but you force your feet to move regardless. Even if the soles of your aching feet are screaming at you to stop, you continue on. Once or twice you lean against the wall for a bit of a breather, only moving again when you’re startled by the notifications of your socials on your phone.

You are so fucking tired.

But still, you take one more painful step. Then another. Then another. One by one by one until—

‘Home sweet home.’ You think a little hysterically, barely glancing at the shiny gold 713 before pushing your way through the door. After, of course, fumbling through your various pockets looking for your keys. Your fingers are shaking slightly, but that’s easily ignored once you finally make it inside. You inhale sharply, blindly feeling for the door behind you as you toss your bag to the floor. You take in your apartment as you close your door with your back, absently kicking off your shoes.

To your right is your bathroom, to your left is your ‘bedroom’ and straight ahead is the kitchenette. It's a cozy little thing, your place; a studio you found for cheap a few months after graduating highschool three years ago. It’s not the greatest place—there's water damage on various parts of the ceiling, a few moldy spots in the bathroom that refuse to leave, the a/c unit does shit all during the summer, there’s basically no insulation so it’s freezing during the winter and you can hear everything going on with your neighbors upstairs and downstairs. Oh, and the indoor washer-dryer unit never works so you have to haul your dirty laundry down the elevator once a week to the nearest laundromat if you don’t want to smell like ass.

This place is a dump, but it's your beloved dump—all the plushies, figures and books lining the shelves prove that fact. Even if it’s a little chillier now that the sun’s gone down, the familiarity would usually be enough to slow your heart rate and lower your defenses.

It’s not enough, though. That thrum of anxiety still runs through your veins, and you’re about three seconds away from hyperventilating. You’ve gone past the tired phase of your day, and are now verging onto the ‘mental breakdown’ part. Groaning and pretending like you don’t feel the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes, you turn towards your little kitchen area and shuffle in. It's pure muscle memory that has you reaching for the cabinet above the stove, pulling out the hot cocoa mix and your favorite mug in seconds. Your routine has been the same for months now—hot chocolate, some cookies, your favorite plush throw and a show you’ve already seen before to help numb the panic. It was the most effective method you’ve come up with, the only one to work long enough for you to get some sleep.

Well. It was the second most effective. The first was currently a two-hour drive away at college, studying for a career in the aerospace field.

You bite down on your lip hard when tears pool in your eyes, and unconsciously, your gaze is drawn to the cluster of polaroids pinned to the front of your refrigerator. Photos of various things cover the pale surface—the sky at dusk, a stray cat that occasionally shows up by the park down the street, fireworks from a festival you went to last year, a silly picture of you in the mirror that’s mostly the flash of a camera—but the one that stands out to you the most is underneath a cartoonish magnet of an airplane.

You’re pressed together cheek to cheek with a boy a few years older than you at the time. A huge grin splits your face, your eyes squinting closed from the glare of the camera. His smile is a little smaller, controlled. But there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds two fingers up behind your head, his other arm holding onto the camera off screen.

It’s you and Caleb Xia. Your best friend in the entire world. 

The man you’re deeply in love with.

Seeing his face after months of barely any contact is enough for the ache in your chest to fully affect you. Your hands shake so badly that you accidentally end up dropping your mug. You’re too slow to catch it, and you watch in numb detachment as it falls and shatters against your wooden floors, shards bouncing off the floor to land on the soft purple cotton of your kitty socks.

You promptly burst into tears, squatting down to cup your knees as you cry loudly into the space you’ve made.

Thick, salty tears run warm tracks down your cheeks as you sob into the open air. You try to blink them away as fast as you can, and when that doesn’t work, you roughly scrub your face. You haven’t cried like this in a while, but it was a long time coming. You were on the verge of a meltdown—you could feel it as days passed you by. That doesn’t make you feel any better, though. Not when you’re kneeling on the ground trying to pick up shards of ceramic while blind from your tears. It’s a recipe for disaster, but nothing can really ruin your day more than this. You certainly don’t care if you accidentally cut yourself, not when it feels like your very world is ending.

“Shit!” You lose your grip on one of the shards you grab. You quickly yank your hand back to avoid getting cut as it falls back to the ground. It breaks even further upon impact, and a hysterical scream threatens to erupt from your mouth, but you hastily swallow it back down. The walls are thin and you don’t need a nosy neighbor to see you like this.

‘Can’t blame anyone but yourself, dumbass.’ The voice in your head berates you. No one told you to push away the one person who could make it all better—you were the one who decided that all on your own. It’s painful to admit, even to yourself, but it’s true. You’re trying your damnedest to avoid Caleb, and you’ve been doing so for a couple months by now.

It’s easy to blame conflicting schedules and the hours separating your homes for the distance. Easy to pin the blame on your exhaustion after long days, his work as a part-time mechanic, the fact that you’re an adult and you can’t keep going to him when you just feel like it. Waking him up at three in the morning because you suddenly feel lonely. Calling him during work or class because you have to tell him about this funny post you saw on one of your socials. Cuddling and hanging all over him because touching him makes you happy and warm and safe.

Kimberly—a coworker of yours—was right to low-key call you out on your seemingly unhealthy dependence on Caleb. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it was her offhand comment that got you to fully realize how you feel about him.

Wow, with how much you cling to the guy I was sure he was your boyfriend or something.

Except Caleb isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your best friend—the only friend you can confidently say you have.

But the thought of him becoming more than that was surprisingly…tempting. An idea you never dared to contemplate was suddenly brought to the forefront of your mind and now you couldn’t escape how right it would feel. But those thoughts were scary, and there were times where you almost slipped up and said something more than strictly platonic. You could only imagine the look on Caleb’s face as he’d let you down gently—because there was no way he’d ever consider you as a girlfriend, not when he still views you as nothing more than his childhood best friend, a little kid sister. It hurts, that realization; cuts deeply in a way you’ve never felt before and that’s when it truly clicks in your head.

Unconsciously, you think you always knew how you really felt about Caleb. It’s hard to pinpoint an exact time when you didn’t care deeply for him. A thousand little moments along the course of your lives together just eventually added up into something stronger than platonic affection; something that consumed your mind, body and soul until nothing was left for him to take. Not that you were trying to blame him for your own emotions, it’s just…hard to keep yourself out of his orbit. Harder still to try and live with these feelings of yours. So you took the coward’s way out and just…pushed them away.

You stopped calling so randomly. Stopped bothering him at work. Stopped sending him random links to nearby cafes where you could go together. Stopped inviting him over for sleepovers and movie nights. Started to decline his invitations out, his subtle questions of spending time together, his concerned texts until…

Until here you are; crying on the floor of your dumpy apartment, alone and cleaning up the broken shards of your favorite mug. A mug Caleb gave to you as a housewarming gift. It was one of the cutest little things you'd ever seen; stubby, round and in the shape of a panda bear, it fits your aesthetic to a T. It was large enough to carry at least two cups worth of tea or hot chocolate, and even though it was a bit bulky for your own smaller hands, it made your day whenever you did use it. And now it’s in a bunch of tiny pieces scattered along your wooden floors.

A fresh wave of tears fills your eyes as you stare down at one of the panda’s broken eyeballs. The furious churning in your gut makes you feel sick and more than anything you wish you weren’t here anymore. In this cold, lonely and broken apartment of yours. You wish you were with Caleb.

You miss him.

You miss his stupidly tall self. How safe and protected he makes you feel. How much he makes you laugh when you're sad. How comforting his hands are whenever you accidentally hurt yourself. You miss the gentle, teasing cadence of his voice; the depth of his pretty colored eyes; the security and warmth of his hugs. You miss him so fucking much.

“I’m such a mess.” You whisper roughly, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall, hoping they’ll stop soon. But they don’t, slowly but surely continuing to wet your flushed and puffy face. You groan and cover your eyes with your balled up fists, blindly sitting back on your ass and scooting along the floor until your back hits the nearest surface. You bring your knees up until they rest underneath your chin, wrapping your arms around them and squeezing.

There’s a brewing ache settling in your chest; a gaping hole where Caleb still sits despite everything. You were the one who viciously dug him out, but you still can’t help but feel sorry for yourself anyway. It’s not like he doesn’t still reach out, but you feel like there’s this wide canyon between the two of you now. You don’t know if you can even force yourself to reach out first, not when you feel so guilty for ignoring him in the first place. 

Unmoored and lost in waves of pain and loneliness, you sit there for what feels like an eternity, drowning over and over and over again. As time passes, though, that raging sea calms into something manageable. Your tears eventually dry up and your breathing evens out a bit, but you still feel like you’re on that precipice. Like one wrong move will have you slipping into a free fall, back into the angry, churning sea of your heartache.

RING! RING-RINNG!

An obnoxiously loud tone rings out from your stomach, and you just about jump ten feet into the air.

“Fuck!” You scream, accidentally hitting your head on the countertop above you. You yelp, squeezing your eyes shut as you fumble through your hoodie pocket for your phone with one hand, the other going to gingerly feel around the throbbing area of your skull. You recognize the familiar tone and it sends your slightly calmed heart back into overdrive; beating so fiercely that you’re afraid it’s going to burst through your ribcage. The pain immediately turns into something unimportant as you dig your phone out of your pocket.

Your eyes are locked onto a smiling photo of Caleb. It’s him in his mechanic’s uniform, unbuttoned halfway through and showing the white tank top underneath, grease smeared all over him and his clothes with his sleeves half rolled up. He’s unfairly and stupidly handsome and you hate that it’s the photo you have saved for him. You hesitate as the ringing continues. Should you pick it up? You’re still so hurt and lonely, but do you really have the courage to answer after you’ve been treating him so unfairly this entire time?

One more look at his smiling face has you immediately folding like a wet paper napkin, however, and you answer the call moments later.

Except that it’s a facetime rather than a phone call, a fact you realize once your face greets you after you pick up. Luckily, his eyes are drawn off to the side, so you quickly turn the camera around to face your socked feet. You frantically curse inside of your head, but there’s nothing to be done now. You don’t have the heart to hang up on him, not when you can see every little detail of his pretty face. The sight already has you feeling better, even when he hasn't even acknowledged you yet.

You’re a weak, weak person.

“You know, when someone facetimes you it's because they want to see your face.” The clear, teasing tone of his voice causes your cheeks to darken, his eyes flicking up and then down to lock onto your feet pointedly. The last time you two were speaking by voice was…maybe two and a half weeks ago? A far cry from how you used to call him at least twice a day. Despite the snark, you can’t help but savor the warmth in his words. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t reply somehow.

“Fuck off, you know I don’t like facetimes, Caleb.” You grumble, attempting to be normal but you fail within seconds. Your voice cracks halfway through your sentence and there’s an audible stuffiness to your nose that carries over to your speech. It’s so painfully obvious that you’ve been crying.

That amiable cheer of his dissolves immediately, his eyes snapping to stare directly into the camera as his smile morphs into a noticeable frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His eyes dart over the screen frantically, like he can figure out the answer based on your socked feet and kitchen floor alone. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he somehow did—Caleb’s strangely good with small details and can tell your mood just by looking for your subtle microexpressions. While you know some others around him have found it a bit strange, you just think it's sweet how deeply he cares about things like that. It’s…cute, to you. You like that he pays so close attention.

You see some of that perceptiveness when Caleb zeroes in on something small near your feet. His eyes narrow slightly, but before you can even look to see what exactly he’s staring intently at, his eyes are raising up to stare back into the camera. Like he can see you even when it isn’t facing you directly.

“Turn your camera around.” 

You bite your bottom lip at the seriousness of his tone. The statement sounds more like an order and while normally you’d at least tease him for it, maybe even sass him back for the firmness of his words, you just can’t bring yourself to ignore him. Not when it feels like you can finally breathe after what feels like ages.

Still, you hesitate.

Rubbing your cheek, you look down at the ‘switch camera’ button. It would be so easy to just let Caleb in right now, to let him see just what a fucking mess you are so he can make everything be okay again. But your coworkers' words float through your mind—how strange it is to be so reliant on someone when you yourself are a grown ass adult. Nervously, you rub your feet together, taking a bit of comfort in the soft fabric rubbing against your skin. You don’t know what to do…both sides are warring within you and the more you try and decide, the harder it is to come to a decision.

That’s when Caleb speaks up, almost as if he can sense your indecision.

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. You know I can make it feel better.” You breath hitches, your heart thumping so fast that all the blood rushes to your ears in an instant. Caleb’s voice is so soothing—so soft and sweet and comforting that tears prick the corners of your eyes. You want to be with him so badly that it makes your chest ache with longing. 

“Caleb..!” You sniffle out, hiding behind your hand when his gaze becomes too much for you. Your face feels so hot that you’re afraid of spontaneously combusting. God, he knows how to make you weak and you would be angry at him if it didn’t make you feel so small and safe.

“You don’t have to worry with me around—you know that I’ll take care of you, don’t you? C’mon, lemme help you out like you need me to.” You peek above your hand, shivering at the intensity of his stare. It’s in stark contrast with his softly murmured words, and your brain goes a little fuzzy the longer you meet his gaze.

Caleb has always taken care of you, even when you were nothing but the lonely, annoying little girl who lived next door. Three years his junior and acting like a crybaby at even the slightest of inconveniences, he should’ve naturally found you insufferable. But he never once turned you away, no matter how many times he had to dry your tears, play with you, help you study and so, so much more. He always made sure you were looked after when your parents were too busy to even care, bringing you over to dinner with his parents or even sharing some of his lunch with you when he knew you hadn’t eaten. Caleb has always been there to make it better, to take care of you and make all of your worries fade away. Why wouldn’t he do the same now? He’s completely right—you need him.

“You promise?’ You whisper, the tears pooling in your eyes overflowing as you hiccup.

“I promise.” He says solemnly. Silently, you reach out and press the reverse camera button.

His eyes track rapidly over your face once the camera switches, no doubt cataloging the very obvious evidence of your crying fest. The thickness of his brows furrow into slants as he takes in your face, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down as concern lights up his dusk-purple irises. You stare at each other for a few quiet beats, the only noise coming from Caleb’s end as he moves to somewhere a little quieter. The slight sounds of murmuring and laughter gradually fade away as he goes somewhere private, the lights casting a warm glow over his complexion as he sits down. 

‘Maybe he was at a party? Or a friend’s house?’

“...Bad day?” Clearly, he’s waiting for you to open up before he does anything else. You shy away from his knowing gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your tears. You’re an adult who pays rent and taxes—you should be more than capable of handling these emotions on your own but…but you also can’t help but like that Caleb wants to help you too.

He’s obviously waiting patiently for you to reply, but you stall just a little longer. Tugging at a strand of your hair that fell out of your bun, chewing on your bottom lip as you count the handles on your cabinets, tugging at the loose thread of your hoodie pocket…the excuses continue until you have nothing else to do but stare at Caleb. It’s only then that you begin to tell him about your day, underneath the gentle patience of his warm gaze.

From your alarm going off a half hour late so you had to rush through your normal routine in order to catch the bus on time. To the older woman who yelled at you for not having the right dress size for her daughter’s baby shower and complaining to your manager. To the weird, creepy homeless man who harassed you at the bus stop and even followed you on until the bus driver noticed and kicked him off a few stops before yours. To then have to walk up seven flights of stairs because the elevator all of a sudden wanted to have a problem today of all days. And now, with your feet carefully tucked away from the mess you made earlier when you clumsily dropped your favorite mug ever and broke it into a million little pieces. It was all just too fucking much and you felt like you were going crazy because you should be able to handle these events but you just can’t—

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Caleb’s voice is like a beacon in the night; a guiding light for you to follow to safety lost amongst the roaring, crashing waves of your turbulent emotions. Shakily, you inhale deep and slow breaths, following Caleb’s instructions as he continues to stare at you. You feel ridiculous crying again, and something on your face must show that because Caleb shoots you a look.

“Stop that already. There’s nothing wrong with feelin’ this deeply, princess. Especially since you've already had such a long day.” You toss him a pout, trying and failing to not let his kind words affect you. He sees through your attempt easily, a helplessly fond expression taking over the worry as he watches you wipe the remaining tear off your cheeks. A comfortable silence follows his words, and you take the time to compose yourself a little. As much as you hate to admit, talking to Caleb did wonders for your current mood. You feel a whole lot better than you did before.

“How we doin’? Better, now?”

You nod, rubbing away the last of your stray tears. He smiles softly, eyes taking in your calmed expression.

“Good, good.” He mumbles, and you finally notice a peculiar jangling sound emanate from his side of the phone. Tilting your head slightly, you focus your attention back on Caleb. Before, when he called, he was dressed in a casual graphic-muscle tee and the shining silver chain you had gifted him when he first went away to college. Now, there was a leather jacket tossed over the shirt, and judging from the echo and the faint ringing sound, it looked like he was in a…car?!

‘He wasn’t–!’

“Caleb…please tell me you aren’t coming over to my place now!?” He shoots you a cheeky smile in response—something that makes panic and delight swell within your lower belly so fast that you have no idea what you’re feeling more. Logic wins out, however, and you try to dissuade him as quickly as possible.

“Caleb, it’s 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night! With traffic it’ll be at least a three hour trip!”

“Mah, it’s no big deal at all. I only have one class tomorrow and even if I do miss it, it won’t be too much of a hit. No biggie.” He says flippantly, shrugging his shoulders with a half-smile. You suddenly want to reach through the camera to smack him on the back of his head. This is not a ‘no biggie’ matter! A five to six hour round trip is just ridiculous, even for your best friend.

“Caleb!”

“Princess!” He tosses back mockingly, and you fight back the urge to melt. He knows that little nickname of his is unfair—it’s why he’s abusing it so thoroughly now. But this just feels like way too much, especially since you’re feeling a lot better than before.

“I-I’m fine now, there’s no need for you to go out of your way like this…”

He pauses, and you can see in his hands are the keys to his car. He shoots you a look as he lowers his hand, one that sends a bolt of heat through your veins.

“Then tell me not to come.”

“Wh-what?”

“Tell me, then. If you really don’t want me to come over, then say it.” You open your mouth, ready to do just that but you falter at his expectant face. As much as you were protesting before, the thought of seeing him in person—of feeling his big, warm hands around you makes your chest squeeze painfully. You easily acquiesce after a few moments of staring into his eyes, groaning into the palm of your hand to avoid his smug expression. Though, when you glance back at him, that little curl to his lips is still there—prominent when combined with the bright and satisfied look in his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I’ll see you soon, then.”

You murmur out something vaguely coherent, but Caleb doesn’t let you go without one last goodbye.

“Bye, princess.’’

“...goodbye, Caleb.’’

Freshly showered and an apartment as tidy as you can make it with thirty minutes left—glass cleaned up and everything—you anxiously wait on the futon that serves as your bed. Your skin is still a little dewy from the water, and your hair is a bit wet, but it’s safely twisted and pinned up into two buns on top of your head. Dressed in a soft and worn pair of grey sweats and an oversized maroon hoodie that you’re ninety percent sure is Caleb’s, you’re as comfortable you can possibly get at the moment. With a nest of plush and colorful throws as well as a few plushies to keep you company, you recline back on the futon, currently in its couch mode. You try to make yourself look as natural as possible, but an anxious tingle still remains low in your belly.

This will be the first time seeing Caleb in months and it’s nerve wracking.

You have no idea how to even act around him. Will he bring up the distance between you both? Will he avoid it? Or will he just wait for you to eventually tell him what’s wrong—something that you’ve done in the past on numerous occasions. Hiding things from Caleb never really is a thing you do; he’s just too good at figuring you out, and you have this compulsion to spill your guts whenever you stare at him too long.

But how would you even go about explaining it all? 

“Ugh, I hate this.” You groan, covering your face with one of your plushies as you curl up on the futon. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel now. So much for trying to be self-sufficient. You ended up having to depend on Caleb yet again to help you. And he was driving all the way to Linkon! Three hours was a long time, and you know he’s had a full day of classes and work, so he was no doubt exhausted. Not to mention the stairs! Fuck, you really are the worst, aren’t you?

You curl up even tighter as the embarrassment blooms into bright and ugly shame. Tears push at the corners of your eyes again and you wish you could stop crying already, but you just can’t. Sniffling, you rub your cheek against the silky-smooth fur of your seal plush. Another gift from Caleb—a birthday one, actually. You both had spent the day at the mall where you two went around for hours. He won the little guy in a crane game that was outside of one of the cutesy stores you like to peek your head in occasionally. It had taken a few more tries than he would have liked—his words verbatim—but you eventually left the mall with one more plush heavier.

‘More evidence that I need to grow up.’ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a loud breath. Yeah, you were never going to give up your collection of plushies. Childish or not, you deserve to have sweet, cute little guys you can cuddle up to when you need a bit of happiness. With one last cheek rub to your seal, you slowly sit up and pat your cheeks. Glancing at the clock, you realize that Caleb’s got about fifteen more minutes or so. 

“Maybe I can order something for us to eat? That fried chicken place that he likes so much should still be open now...” Opening up your phone, you’re about to tap the food delivery service app, but a knock at your door stops you. You blink, confused, before Caleb’s muffled voice comes from behind the heavy, brown wood.

“You mind gettin’ the door?” 

You scramble up from your seat, flailing a little when your feet get tangled up in your blankets. The struggle you go through is loud and obvious, so by the time you get the door open, Caleb’s smile is wide and amused.

“Doin’ alright there, princess?” You opt to ignore his rhetorical question, glancing down at the bulging white bag dangling from his left hand. Double bagged you can’t really tell what’s in it—just that it’s full and heavy looking, a logo of a nearby convenience store on the front. You glance back up at his smiling face. Normally, you’d have already jumped him, and your usual song and dance involves you hanging off of his neck like a monkey while he ushers his way inside; lightly bickering all the while. However…you’re trying to be considerate here. He’s likely tired from all the work he’s had today, so pouncing on him like some overexcited puppy wouldn’t be welcome, you’re sure. Instead, you opt for something a lot more toned down.

“Did you really buy snacks? I was gonna just order something for us. To, y’know, make up for all that gas you used.” You pout a little, pulling Caleb in by his wrist and kicking the door shut behind him. The warmth from his skin seeps into your hand, and you fight the urge to wrap yourself around him like a koala. Face feeling hot, you pretend like your thoughts aren’t totally embarrassing and pull him towards the futon. You carefully keep your eyes trained on the chains dangling from his jeans instead of meeting the stare you can feel boring through your forehead. 

Before you can get very far, though, he gently stops you by tugging his wrist back a little, mindful not to dislodge your own hold. He herdes you to your kitchenette with a little snort, depositing the bag in his hand onto the countertop with a muted ‘thump’.

“Why order out when I can just make you somethin’ instead?” He raises a brow, and you let go of his wrist so he can shrug out of his leather jacket. The thought of a home cooked meal sounds more than appealing at the moment, especially coming from Caleb. You swear that if he wasn’t so set on that aerospace engineering stuff that he’d be an amazing private chef. You tell him as much while he drapes his jacket over a metal hook drilled into the wall near the counter, belly growing warm at the sound of his laughter and the visual of his bare, muscled arms.

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I don’t think I’m that good.” His smile is a little lopsided once he turns back to you, but it’s the way he opens his arms that truly turns that warmth into something scorching.

“Before the food, though, I think there’s somethin’ you’re forgetting to give me, hm?”

You inhale sharply, your lower lip trembling as you look at his face. His expression is a mask of calm, but there’s an anticipatory sort of fire in his eyes, and you realize that he wants you to jump him like you would normally. Resolve cracking once again into pieces, you immediately jump into his spread arms. Your own limbs fly up to wrap around his neck, and you stand on your tippy toes for only a second before his arms surround you, lifting until your legs wrap around his waist. He squeezes you tightly, resting his chin on your shoulder while you hide away in the crook of his neck, your trembling hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

The cologne he wears floods your nose—something deep and masculine that makes you think of late night drives, clear lakes and winter nights. That familiar scent instantly has you sagging in his hold, trusting that he’s strong enough to carry your body weight as you press even closer to him. His warmth, his scent, the strength in his arms and the low, soothing hum he starts when you inevitably let loose a few tears and sob a little; all of it causes you to feel human—something you haven’t been feeling in a long, long while. You vow to yourself to never avoid him ever again—you think you would actually just keel over and die if you have to live without his hugs.

“I missed you.” Your teary voice is muffled by his throat, but he understands you perfectly regardless.

“Missed you too, princess.” One of the hands supporting your waist slides up your spine, stopping when it reaches the nape of your neck. He rests his hand there, fingers absently playing with the baby hairs at the base as you rub your nose against his neck. Your face feels like it’s pure magma with the way it burns, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re positive Caleb can feel it, with how close you two are pressed together. As flustered as this is making you feel, however, there is a part of you that’s just melting into the easy affection between you two. A part that’s growing the longer you’re touching him.

It feels so good to be in his arms again, to feel him enveloping you, keeping you safe and protected. The slow rise and fall of his chest soothes you, and your slight sniffles calm down. Sleepily, you rub your nose against his throat again, the action surprising a low chuckle out of him that makes your brain go blank with contentment. Eventually, though, you have to part. So, with one last squeeze, Caleb pats your back and gently lowers you to the ground. You only realize you’re pouting when one of his large hands comes up to squish your cheeks together. You squawk in protest, using one of your own hands to swat at his hand before he lets you go. 

“Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t look like that. Makes me wanna bully you when you’re acting cute.” The smile on his face is teasing, but there’s something contemplative in his gaze as he regards you. 

Your face flushes a blazing red, that sleepy soft feeling evaporating in an instant. His voice echoes loudly in your head as your eyes widen. Did he just…call you cute? No, he said you were acting cute. But, doesn’t that mean the same thing? Doesn’t it? You feel like you’re about to go insane from his flippant words, and you bring your hands up to cover your hot face in embarrassment. This kind of banter is normal for you two—it’s supposed to be normal, but now it’s all too much. You can’t…you can’t deal with him talking like that, not when you’ve just noticed how you really feel about him!

A strange expression flits across his face after he takes stock of you, but before you can even think to ask, the look is gone and he slings an arm over your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest, the smile audible in his voice as he leads you into the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got a few options we can choose from…”

You end up choosing something simple but delicious—ramen! 

Your kitchen area is small, but composed of two separate counters; one connected to the wall in an L-shape with the sink, microwave and stove, the other splitting the area in half. Caleb is working near the sink and the stove, all of the ingredients spread out in an organized fashion. The water is set on the stove getting hot, the packs of noodles placed on the counter by it. Various toppings litter the surface of the counter—eggs, some seaweed, what looks like bok choy and pork belly. He knows it’s your absolute favorite and the thought of him specifically going out of his way to buy you something makes your heart thump inside of your chest painfully.

You’re sitting on top of the second counter, lighty swinging your feet back and forth as you watch him work. A heavy, almost burning feeling settles in your lower stomach as you do. He looks…at home, here, like he belongs in your kitchen. Moving about with an easy finesse that speaks of his intimate knowledge of your apartment.

How he only uses the first two burners because the back flames don’t get hot enough; how he knows exactly where you keep your pots and pans and other kitchen tools; how he knows that the cool water doesn’t flow from the faucet so he grabs one of the water bottles from out of the fridge; how he expertly maneuvers in your kind of cramped kitchenette despite his height, dodging around sharp corners and the hanging overhead lights like it’s instinct. It’s all too fucking much for you to take in. Like some sort of rom-com, domestic fantasy brought to life. The soft lofi station playing in the background of your apartment from your speaker only cements that fact. 

It should be nothing new to you—it is nothing new to you. Caleb and you have ended up in the kitchen together countless times before in the past. But you were ignorant back then. Now, you’re completely aware of how strongly you love Caleb, how deeply and wholly it consumes you, so all of the normal things you did together seem to carry a deeper meaning. But it has to be your imagination—it’s just all in your head. You can't believe that Caleb sees this any different than normal. Caleb is your best friend so he obviously loves you, just…not like how you love him.

It stings like a bitch to admit, but you have to come to terms with it. You won’t be avoiding him anymore, you’ve already decided that, so you need to be able to handle it when Caleb does something platonically affectionate. ‘You’re his best friend—like a little kid sister to him.’ You chant like a mantra inside of your head, trying to control the blush on your face when you watch his arms flex as he uses a knife. You can’t help but trace over his profile, lingering on the length of his eyelashes, the sharp jut of his jawline, the soft furrow of his brow as he concentrates, the softened line of his pink lips. It’s kind of creepy how hard you stare, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Not when everything about him draws you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s goin’ on in that big ole brain of yours?” Caleb keeps his eyes trained on the pork belly he’s cutting, but you still feel his attention zero in on you regardless. You fidget a little, expecting the question yet not at the same time. What should you even say?

What you can only say, you think. The truth.

“I guess I’m just…sorry?” Your quiet voice comes out more like a question, and you drop your eyes to your socked feet as they sway. You can’t bear to look at Caleb anymore, not when the shame and guilt from before start to come back.

“Sorry?” 

You shrink back at the sound of his confusion, and as much as you loathe to bring it up first, the instinct to spill your guts wins. You’ve always been an open book to him, and after years of that habit, you don’t have the strength to change that now. 

“I…I’ve been avoiding you–,” A lump forms in your throat halfway through your words, and the rhythmic cutting of the knife abruptly stops. You keep your gaze down, but Caleb’s focus goes from being present in the background to suddenly being there. You can literally feel his eyes bore into your forehead. You hunch further into the hoodie on you—Caleb’s hoodie—as if it can physically hide you away from your problems. Still, you continue to speak, absently noticing Caleb start to move in the background.

“And I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault at all, I promise you. I just…I just figured that maybe I was, um, bothering you too much? I mean, I know I can be pretty annoying and you’ve been sweet to actually try and tolerate it, but I’ve got to grow up sometime, right? I shouldn’t be constantly texting or calling you over silly, nonsensical things about my day. I’m an adult, so I can’t be so selfish with you all the time, not when we both have our own separate lives to live—” You hiccup, and it's only then that you realize you’re crying again. Your fingers are bunching up the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing, your knuckles turning white from the strain. You sniffle, opening your mouth to continue, but another hiccup interrupts you as more tears blur your vision.

The abrupt sound of the sink turning on momentarily quiets your crying fit, and you snap your head up towards the sound. Caleb is furiously washing his hands, and you can only watch bewildered as he does so for the next thirty seconds. He whips back around after, absently drying his hands with a nearby towel before throwing it across the counter. His face is slightly pained as he stalkes towards you, and you’re suddenly aware of how big he is once he gets close.

His shoulders block out most of the overhead lights as he crowds into your personal space, his hands coming up to cup your flushed cheeks as he slides himself in between your legs. The stare he gives you is complicated; emotions flitting too fast for you to decipher with your obscured vision. Gently, he uses his thumbs to clean away the tears falling down your face, wiping away the ones in your eyes just a moment later. You sniffle a little, staring up at him with wide eyes as he slowly lowers his head to bump yours. 

“Where in the world did you get the idea that I wouldn’t always want you around?” There’s a genuine note of distress in voice, though it’s clear he tries his best to hide it.

You only cry harder, shaking your head as your hands go from clinging onto the hoodie you're wearing to his shirt. It feels so stupid to admit that someone else influenced you—to say out loud that you were being so cruel to someone so important and close to you because you were afraid. Afraid that your feelings would get the better of you. Afraid that you would drive Caleb away with your clinginess. Afraid that you’d crumble to pieces if he ever rejected you. Because you need him in your life like you need air to breathe.

The grip on your face tightens.

“You don’t have to be so quick to grow up without me, y’know? Who said you needed to do that?” He switches tactics a bit, injecting a lighter tone in his voice as he wipes away more of your tears. Your lower lip wobbles, but you do take his words to heart. A little bit, at least. You open and close your mouth, and it takes more than one try to speak past the lump in your throat, but you do after a few moments of patience.

“...You don’t think it’s immature? You don’t…you aren’t annoyed by me being so-so clingy?”

He shakes his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly when he gives you a soft smile. You sniffle again, leaning into the warm palms holding your face. Your fingers loosen the death grip you have on his shirt. He moves a little closer in response, and you can feel the heat from his body seep through the fabric of your pants. Goosebumps rise across your skin when you realize how close Caleb is to your inner thighs. ‘Focus.’ You demand yourself, breath hitching when Caleb swipes his thumb underneath your eye.

“Of course not. I like it when you call me up the way you…used to.” Pain briefly flashes across his face before that gentle smile comes back. Your lip wobbles at the sight, but he quickly shushes you, lightly squeezing your face. You understand the silent message and swallow down a fresh wave of tears.

“You…you seriously don’t mind that I want to,” live underneath your skin 24/7 “be near you anyway I can? Even if it means that I’m bothering you when you’re busy?” Your inner thoughts mortify you, but the idea of being around Caleb all day, every day is so appealing to you that you feel insane with the way your entire being yearns for that to be the case.

“You never bother me. You have to know that, right, princess?” You bite your lip, one part of you disbelieving while the other half sings with delight at hearing those words come from Caleb. Kimberly meant no harm when she planted the idea, but you’ve had months to turn it over repeatedly in your head, and your insecurities have been louder than ever in your isolation.

“I’ll start trying to…at least.” 

Caleb sighs a little, eyes flickering down for a moment before they meet yours squarely.

“Baby steps then.” He knocks your heads together gently before easing up his hunched shoulders. The palms cupping your cheeks leave after a few more seconds and he gives you one of his usual warm smiles.

“No more ignorin’ me, alright?”

You tellingly don’t say anything right away. You know you’re not going to avoid him anymore, it’s just, making your voice work after all of that feels like a herculean endeavor. Sniffling, you slowly blink up at him. Your silence makes his smile grow wide enough for his eyes to close, but there’s a rigidness to his expression that makes your stomach swoop. He leans back down, one of his hands tucking underneath your chin to raise it, the other falls to rest next to one of your legs on the counter. The back of his knuckles brush against your skin and you feel your eyes widen at the sharp look he shoots your way when his eyes open, smile fixed in place.

“You won’t ignore me anymore, right.” The soft murmur sounds more like a threat than a question, and that swooping sensation returns. You realize that you’re getting excited by the look in his eyes, your flush only growing more prominent when you feel yourself get embarrassingly wet from the intensity. You instinctively move to cross your legs, but since he’s still in between them they only tighten around his waist. His eyes drop to look down before they raise back up, one of his eyebrows arched as searches your face. After he looks his fill, a slight smirk curls the side of his lips up, and his head tilts to the side in an almost sarcastic fashion.

“R-right, I promise!” You stammer out, breath hitching when that downright mean look lasts for a beat longer before his smile becomes real. He pulls back the hand underneath your chin while the other gently rests on the outside of your thigh, lightly patting it before he removes himself from your personal space. Your breath whooshes out of you loudly, your heartbeat going a mile per minute as your red face gets even redder. His smile somehow gets brighter in response.

“Perfect. Now, just sit there and relax. Dinner should be ready in just a little bit.”

You stop pulling away from Caleb after that night.

You never did fully explain to him why exactly you started distancing yourself, no matter how subtle and unsubtly he tried to pry. You guess you feel embarrassed by the reason. Embarrassed that you allowed your fears to get in the way of your friendship—that you allowed these stupidly intense feelings of yours to negatively affect one of the few good things in your life. So you keep the real catalyst to yourself, instead focusing on catching up with Caleb. You haven't really spoken-spoken in…four and a half months, so there was a lot to catch up on. Which was easy enough to do once you started regularly calling and texting him. 

However, some things were still different, no matter how much you tried for it not to be.

Since you had your little revelation, everything and anything Caleb did that was even the slightest bit affectionate had you blushing like crazy. Constantly, you were flustered by the very obvious care he showed you, which had been amplified ever since you started talking again. It was like he was compensating for your insecurities by being extra sweet to you, and it was driving you insane to try and keep your head on straight.

He made a point to see you in person at least once a week, alternating between taking you out to eat or to walk around the mall, or cooking you something at home and watching movies. Without fail, Caleb would show up at your door knocking like clockwork. It worried you, at first. You didn’t want him to overexert himself in an effort to make you feel better, but you realized something about three weeks into this new routine.

Caleb needed it as much as you seemed to.

He was subtle about it, but you knew the man as well as he did you. So you noticed how relaxed he would get when you would ask him for things. How genuinely thrilled he seemed when you spoke openly about your feelings. How quickly he would respond to your texts even when he was busy, or how he picked up every single time without fail whenever you called. How he would jump at the chance to spend even a little bit of time with you.

How easily he would touch you.

You guys were physically affectionate before, but now…it was happening way more often. A hand on your waist, your lower back, resting behind your back or draped over your shoulder when you sat down; ruffling your loose hair or snagging your wrist when you playfully pulled away for him; pinching your cheeks to tease you, cupping underneath your jaw to emphasize a point he was making; or, god forbid, the few times he stopped you from rushing ahead by resting his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezing. He loomed over you in public, bodily putting himself between you and random strangers, using his height to his advantage when he wanted to herd you in another direction, coaxing you to lay or lean on him whenever you were sleepy either at home or outside.

After realizing that your relationship wasn’t so one-sided, well…it was easier to accept your new routine. Easier to allow yourself to indulge, easier to not feel guilty when Caleb was getting exactly what he seemed to want by looking after you so well.

Which led you to your predicament now.

“...You want me to come with you to a party?” You hold your phone up to your ear with your shoulder, chewing on a fruity twizzler as you circle a word in your book of word searches. It was sanrio themed and Caleb had snagged it for you on one of your little outings two weeks ago. The page you were working on was thirty-three out of sixty and was filled with various little chibis of cinnamoroll. 

“It won’t be that bad. Gideon’s cousin is throwing a bit of a housewarming thing, and he invited me to come. Last week you picked what we did, so technically it is my turn…” He trails off playfully, and you pout because he’s right. You had forced him to stay inside and ordered pizza—you refused to let him go back to his apartment until you had finished all five of the twilight movies. Payback, really, when he forced you to watch all of those boring ass war movies he liked so much.

You roughly blow out a sigh, sliding your pen into the book.

“Is it a party or a…party party?”

“A party party, so as much as I wouldn’t mind you wearing one of my hoodies again,” You flush at the pointedness to his tone, “You should make an effort to wear something a little nicer.”

“Caleb~!” You whine, throwing yourself back across your splayed out futon. The only thing he does is laugh at your expense, and as much as you want to be truly annoyed, you can’t. His voice is too warm and soothing in your ear for you to feel any true irritation.

“C’mon, it won’t be so bad. We’ll stay for an hour or so, and then we can head back to my apartment. You wanted to see it anyway since I moved.”

“I guess so…”

“Just a little bit of human interaction, and then I’m all yours. Doesn’t that sound like a good deal?” His voice is softer now, coaxing almost. Like you’re some little kid that needs to be convinced to eat their veggies. It shouldn’t make you flush so intensely. Nor should it make your mind go fuzzy and cotton-filled, but here you are. Zoning out a bit because of his tone.

“...Yes, it does.” You mumble, blinking to try and erase that sudden fog.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” A fainter voice echoes from his side of the phone and he leans away for a moment to answer. You glance at the clock. 3:47 p.m on a Wednesday. He’s in the middle of his part time shift at the auto shop near his college. ‘He must’ve just been invited if he’s calling me during work hours.’ You finish nibbling on the twizzler in your mouth while you wait, a bit of dread filling your gut as you think about meeting Caleb’s other friends.

You weren’t scared of them, per se. You were just a little—okay, you were a lot introverted. Going outside only seemed like a good time if you were either with Caleb or going on a simple walk. Talking with people has never been something you liked or needed in your life. Too many bad experiences with others—both their fault and yours, depending on the situation—so you mostly keep to yourself. And Caleb’s friends are from college or from the mechanic shop. Places where certain kinds of men reside, and while you won’t just baselessly accuse his friends of being people you won’t get along with, you shied away from interacting regardless. But now…now you didn’t have a choice in the matter. So that meant you had to make at least a decent impression on them, if only to save Caleb some peace of mind.

“Sorry about that, one of the guys had a question about the truck we’re working on.” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your pensive thoughts.

“No worries, you know I don’t mind.” He hums absent-mindedly, before shuffling noises can be heard through your phone speaker.

“What time’s the party?”

“This Thursday night. It officially starts at eight, but people’ll probably start showin’ up at seven-thirty.”

“Oh, alright. I get out at six, if you wanted I could meet you halfway?”

He scoffs. 

“I can just pick you up, it’s no big deal. I’ll just make sure to leave a few hours earlier.” You bite your lip, but you accept his decision. You’ve gotten better at that, you think. Following his lead more without questioning him so much.

“Your vacation starts this weekend, right?” You blink. What does that have to do with anything?

“Mhm?”

“Stay the week with me.”

Your eyes widen and you stare blankly out your window, just barely catching your phone as it slips from underneath your chin. You…you stay in his new apartment with him…for a whole week…? You don’t know whether or not you want to scream in delight or pass out in flustered embarrassment. Just thinking about being alone with him in his space for a whole uninterrupted week sends those familiar tingles down your belly to your cunt. You suck in a breath, cheeks feeling hot as your fingers tremble around your phone. Denial sits on the tip of your tongue because if you’re in close proximity for that long you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from doing something incredibly idiotic—

“Please? I miss you, and we already don’t see each other enough.” He doesn’t really beg, but that soft, cajoling tone comes back and it has you caving immediately. Because you’re still one clingy bitch and you do actually miss him like crazy whenever you aren’t near him.

You just hope that you can somehow find the strength to keep yourself together the entire week.

“The whole week, huh. Sure, why not?” You say softly, smiling when that gets you a slightly startled intake of breath. Did he really think you weren’t going to say yes?

“You’re carrying all my bags, by the way. All of them.” You state without hesitation, smile curling into a devious grin.

“...How many bags are you planning to bring?” He asks cautiously, and you only giggle in response.

“You little brat.” He sighs out, but there’s nothing reproachful in his tone. You giggle again before you stop, hearing another voice pipe up from Caleb’s side. You’re a little sad to see him go, but he is technically on work time.

“Sorry, I gotta—”

“No, no it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow night, then.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, princess.” He murmurs, and you hastily answer him back before the line cuts off. You sigh, bringing the back of your palm to your cheek. You get flustered so easily around him, but you’ve grown to handle it. Somewhat. Kind of. More importantly…

“Do I even have something appropriate enough for a party party?” You wonder to yourself, getting up to shuffle over to your closet. You never needed fancy or ‘nice’ clothes since you were in school, so you highly doubt you have anything on hand that was nice enough. You know Caleb won’t be super picky on the definition of ‘nice’ but…you want to make a good impression.

Ten minutes later you run through your whole closet and you have nothing to really show for it. You found a few hoodies that you’re definitely packing, as well as a couple pairs of fuzzy sweatpants you thought you lost. But nothing in the realm of ‘nice’ that this party required. You sighed a little to yourself, but picked out a week’s worth of clothes and shoved them into a duffel you had stored in the back of your closet. You’d pack the rest of your toiletries and other accessories you needed later. For now, though, you had to make a quick trip down the street. You’re lucky that there’s a relatively nice clothing shop within walking distance.

‘The fucking things I do for that man.’ You smile as you shrug on your jacket and slip on your crocs.

The soft ‘thump’ of your boots hits the ground rhythmically. You’re pacing a little, trying to get used to the added height the boots give you. While not your first time wearing boots like these, it is your first time wearing them with a skirt. It’s a strangely nice feeling, the gentle tickle of the soft fabric against your thighs, and you can admit you’re kind of obsessed with it. You make one last turn in your boots, almost tripping over a stray snag in your rug before you hastily right yourself.

Stopping in front of the floor length mirror propped against your bathroom door, you give yourself one last once over.

Your long hair flows down your back and chest, the thin braids you did topped off with shimmery white bows, lines of silver chains scattered throughout. Your makeup is simple—black puppy liner, highlighter brushed along your cheekbones and nose, and a thin layer of gloss that makes your lips twinkle a subtle black underneath your lights. Around your neck lies a thick, black choker with a layer of silver chains hooked to it. The real star of the show is your outfit, however. The one that you spent a decent chunk of money getting but one that you’re infinitely proud of.

The black bralette top you’re wearing is thin and stretchy; lined with lace and with a cute skull and bones decal. The top is the slightest bit on the small side, and combined with the sown in padded cups you not only don’t have to wear a bra, but your tits look fucking fantastic. The black skirt you’re wearing has ribbons lining the top like a corset, and cinches your waist in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re suffocating while giving you a nice shape. You paired it with wide-holed fishnet stockings and a pair of calf high, chunky black boots. You adjust the stockings a little, pulling them over the skirt up until they reach high unto your waist. You turn this way and that, cocking your head to the side to review your fit just one more time before Caleb appears. You’re mostly satisfied with it. 

The only thing that you would say kind of ruins it for you, though, would have to be…

‘Maybe I should’ve done the oversized look instead.’ Your mood plummets a little when you notice the layer of pudge slightly poke out from the sides of your skirt, as well as your slightly sagging arms. You cross your arms with an aggravated sigh, looking away from the mirror to ignore the imperfections you can see. You were so satisfied before…where did all that confidence go? ‘Wherever the hell my common sense went, that’s for sure.’ You think to yourself with a snarky tone, before you blow out a deep breath. You still have some time, maybe you could go and grab one of the graphic tees you have?

A knock at your door stops you, and you realize you’ve got no more time left. You sigh, lightly patting your cheeks before making your way to the door. You’re more than a little nervous—you feel a little sick, actually, but you’re trying not to think about that. With no time left, all you can do is grin and bear it.

One last breath and you swing the door open.

Your face gets hot when you realize how handsome Caleb looks—black jeans with rips in them and a grey button up hidden beneath an open dark blazer, a few buttons undone to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbones and the silver chain hanging loose—but what really has you flustered is the look on his face when he realizes what you’re wearing. It’s quiet between you two for a long beat as his gaze slowly travels your body from head to toe, something dark and hot swirling in his eyes. You lightly bite the inside of your lip, fingers gripping onto the edge of your door as you watch the rigid line of his body. It didn’t even look like he was breathing, and feeling the tension grow stronger the longer the quiet persists, you hastily try and break the ice.

“C-come in already, silly. Don’t just stand outside, I told you that you’d be helping me with my bags!” You swiftly turn away from Caleb at the door, blush spreading so fast that you’re dizzy from the rush. The look on his face…you shiver just thinking about it. That wasn’t the kind of look you give your best friend—not even close. You try not to let that stop you from gathering your purse and keys, though, heading towards your futon to pick them up. You bend over slightly, stretching out your arm to snag them from the other half of your bedding.

Except you’re a bit too far from the straps of your bag—a cute little thing in the shape of ghostface that you found in that store yesterday that just spoke to you. You huff, pretending like you don’t feel the intense stare burning holes into your back. You do in fact realize the position you’re in; you in your short and flowy skirt, half bent over your layed out futon, the entirety of your lower half nearly exposed. You feel a slight brush of cool air against the backs of your thighs, and feeling a little bold, you slide a knee up onto the futon. The fabric of the skirt slips higher and you snatch the straps of your bag quickly, blushing even hotter when you realize that you just most likely flashed Caleb behind you.

You aren’t that embarrassed about it, oddly enough. The look in his eyes when he saw you…it wasn’t one you’ve ever seen directed towards yourself before. But you can’t say that you’re upset by it, honestly it was a bit of a confidence booster. You…you don’t know the deeper meanings behind the heat in his gaze; you don’t know if it’s just surface level lust or if he thinks of you the way you think of him…but you are going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

Swallowing thickly, you slip the bag over your shoulder to rest across your chest, turning around with a bright smile.

“Ready!”

~~~~~

Caleb might have…miscalculated a bit.

The party was originally a way for him to segue into asking you to come over. He figured you’d give in easily enough and they’d spend a little time chatting in the corner before he’d whisk you back to his place. While he wasn’t certain what you’d be wearing, he also didn’t think it’d be too wild. That broken heart sweater and a pair of your black ripped jeans maybe. Or those new black cargos and the cropped graphic t-shirt of godzilla you adore so much. Something easy, something comfortable. You were being forced into a social situation you weren’t familiar with, so it’d only make sense.

Except you love proving him wrong when he least expects it.

He watches as your skirt swishes around the backs of your thighs, eyes trailing up the slope of your spine as you two walk towards his car. Thankfully, despite your earlier teasing threat, you only had a duffle bag and a book bag filled with your toiletries and other smaller items you wanted to bring—not that he was really worried about anything being too heavy for him to carry. Even if it was, he’d be way too distracted looking at you to feel any real annoyance.

Your hips sway in an unconscious, but sensual rhythm as you walk in front of him, your wild, dark curls bouncing softly, the thin chains in your hair tinkling ever so softly as they clink against one another. His fingers twitch with the sudden urge to tug at a stray braid swaying from the force of your movements, but he dutifully keeps ahold of your bags. He’s determined to keep his distance. If he really gets his hands on you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go long enough for them to leave. It’s difficult, however, when you keep shooting him these nervous little glances from underneath your eyelashes; almost as if you’re expecting him to do something. As if you want him to do something.

‘Not that I can exactly blame her for that. I wasn’t very subtle.’ He muses to himself. When he first saw how you looked, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. He’d never seen you dressed so…boldly before. So much of your skin was on display, so much of your figure bared to his eyes. It took everything in him to not jump on you, but now wasn’t the time. He could have a little patience. It’d make when he finally takes you apart that much sweeter.

“You cold?” He asks after you rub your arms for the nth time coming down from your apartment. You purse your lips, the light from a nearby streetlight catching the enticing shine of your gloss. He pointedly looks into your eyes, as if that will stop him from imagining what your lips would look like wrapped around his fingers.

“I thought it’d be a little warmer out ‘cuz it’s still summer…” Caleb chuckles, fishing inside of his pocket for the keys to his car. You frown at him, lightly smacking his arm when he laughs again.

“Relax, princess. I’ve got a jacket in my car you can use.” He carefully gauges your expression, smirking a little when a glassy sheen covers your eyes. He expects it to quickly disappear—like it always does whenever he throws that pet name out—but it stays. The frown at your lips slacken into something close to a pout, your cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that spreads to the tips of your ears peeking out from the fall of your hair. You go quiet again, but he leaves you to your thoughts, something forming in his head as he pops open the trunk.

He tosses your bags inside, slamming the back closed a moment later. When he looks up again, you’re poised by the passenger door, shivering slightly as you stare at your reflection in the window. That soft look still lingers in your eyes, and the idea forming inside of his mind solidifies. Caleb calls out to you, and you take a moment to blink before turning your head to face him. He rounds the trunk to the back door of the car, yanking it open and grabbing the jacket left on the back seat. 

“Here.” He holds the black bomber jacket open, watching closely as you shuffle over and turn around. He slides it around you, using the hands on your shoulders to flip you back around once you slip your arms through the sleeves. The thing practically drowns your figure, stopping just below where the skirt ends. You look good in his clothes, good enough that he's sorely tempted to just take you home instead of to the party. He has a slightly different plan—one that he thinks will work out just fine.

Looking into your eyes again, and seeing that hazy almost dreamy look, he gently tucks his fist underneath your chin. Using his other hand he guides you to lean against his car. Slowly, he tilts your chin up, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb underneath the swell of your bottom lip, resting his fist above your head.

It has the effect he assumes it would.

Your breath hitches, that cooling blush of yours returning rapidly, coloring your cheeks and nose a splotchy pink. You…melt into the touch on your chin, wide eyes somehow growing bigger as you look up at him. Your hands reach for the edges of his blazer, fingers curling around the thicker fabric. He smiles, stepping in closer so that he can really tower over you, flattening his palm against the cool metal of his car. You stop breathing when he does and he lightly shakes your chin.

“Where are your manners at, princess? What do you say when someone gives you something?” He lowers the pitch of his voice a bit, softening his tone into something sweet yet chiding. You shiver, pupils expanding until a thin ring of your iris is left. Caleb allows the smile he wears to turn the slightest bit mean, relishing when that gets him a high pitched whine. 

“C’mon, you know the words.” He raises a brow and gives your jaw another shake. You inhale a trembling breath, blinking slowly before you open your mouth.

“...Thank you, Caleb.” He smiles at the sound of your lovely voice whispering out his name. He would bottle that noise, if he could. Drink it down for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

“Good girl. You’re welcome to keep that jacket, too. Don’t even have to steal it from me like you do my other stuff.” You only stare at him, lips parted and breaths coming in fast pants. He laughs, slightly mocking as he drags his knuckles up your cheek and down the side of your throat. He allows the contact to last for a few beats, taking in the obvious pleasure on your face, the way your legs shake, how you have to lean against the car to even stay upright. He hasn’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already like this. With one last gentle tap to your cheek, he finally leans back.

“Let’s go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic.”

You’re floating.

Not literally, but you feel as if you’re walking on air. Not even your natural social anxiety is affecting you now, thick into the crowd of Gideon’s family and friends. Caleb had mentioned a housewarming party, but that’s as far as you know. As far as you care to know, sitting primly on Caleb’s lap as he talks with one of his mechanic buddies—a man whose name you immediately forget once you hear it. The conversation doesn’t last long, maybe ten minutes or so, before the other man is drawn off deeper into the crowd in search of something else to drink.

Once the other leaves, Caleb leans his head against yours and looks down at your phone. You're playing a puzzle app, and he quietly watches you play a game of sudoku, occasionally jumping in when you get a little stumped. His hand curls around your waist, absently rubbing one of your skirt’s ribbons in between his fingertips. The other holds onto a red solo cup—the contents you aren’t a hundred percent certain on. He was nice enough to let you take a sip, but you weren’t a fan of the artificially fruity flavor, nor did you like the kind of alcohol hidden underneath it. Wine is more your speed, and after making a face once, Caleb merely laughed and kept the cup to himself.

You aren’t entirely sure how you ended up sitting on him like this, but you can’t say you mind. It’s nice being cradled close; your back resting in the curve of Caleb’s arm, your legs thrown over his thighs and your head resting on his shoulder. You’re warm—courtesy of Caleb’s jacket hanging off your shoulders—and comfortable. Aside from a few friendly ‘hellos’ by the various friends and acquaintances that stop by your little corner of the living room, no one’s really bothered you and Caleb.

As nice as it is, though, there’s still a worry that’s niggling at the back of your mind. A question of…why. Why did Caleb pull you onto his lap as soon as you two walked in? Why did he touch you like that earlier? Why has he been so intense lately? All of the questions you have float through your mind and it slowly begins to push back that pleasant fog you’ve had since you first walked out of your apartment.

You aren’t stupid. You know that there’s a tension between you two. The kind of tension that leads down a road that you both won’t be able to turn back from, but it’s the why of that tension that’s eating you up inside. Before a few hours ago, you wouldn’t have thought that Caleb was interested in you. But that look combined with his behavior…it’s clear that at the very least he’s attracted to you. But does he want you the way you want him—does he love you the way you love him? You don’t know, and that, you think, is what scares you most.

The fingers on your waist lightly tug at the ribbons in your skirt and you look up at him in question.

“How we feelin’?” 

“M’fine. Comfy.” You pause, biting the inside of your lip to avoid getting gloss on your teeth. Caleb immediately catches your hesitation.

“What else?” 

“...I’m a little…confused, too.” He doesn’t seem shocked at all, merely waiting with a warm expectant look on his face for you to continue. You open and close your mouth, stopping and starting until you gather the courage to finally ask what’s been on your mind.

“What am I to you?” Your question takes him off guard a bit, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks away for a moment, the shock turning into something deeply thoughtful. His gaze swings back to yours after a few long seconds of silence, a burning intensity lightning up the dusky-purple hues of his iris.

“What am I, to you.”

“Caleb, I’m serious.” You frown, feeling a little hurt that he seems to be making fun, but he just shakes his head.

“So am I. What, or more like, who do you see me as, [✦].” The sound of your name startles you, and you begin to understand that he’s deadly serious. 

“Who..?” You trail off, breath hitching when Caleb’s hand cups your cheek. He says nothing more, brushing the pad of his thumb underneath your eye as he waits. Your hand grips your phone tightly, a nervous tremble wobbling your bottom lip. Is he asking…does he want you to speak your feelings? You blink rapidly, feeling the familiar itch at the corner of your eyes.

You’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, and if Caleb wasn’t holding you like this, you think you’d run away immediately. ‘But I’ve already chosen to stop hiding from him. I promised myself that.’ You inhale, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, meeting Caleb’s stare resolutely. You can do this—you can explain to him how you really feel.

He’s asking you to, and how could you bear to deny him like this?

“You’re my best friend,” You reach out and lay your hand on the one holding your face. “You’re the most important person in my life. You drive me fucking crazy all the time with your relentess care. I’m basically spoiled because of you, y’know? Can’t even do anything by myself anymore, I need you around me all the time if I want to have any fun. You…you’ve got to know that you’re my entire world at this point, right? You’ve got to know that I—” You choke on the words, tears pooling in your eyes as your force the phrase your heart has been screaming for so long.

“I love you. I love you so much that it literally makes me fucking stupid.” You throw out with a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to try and salvage your makeup.

With every word spilling from your lips, Caleb’s eyes grow brighter and brighter; the smile playing at his mouth wide and baring the straight whites of his teeth. He’s absolutely gorgeous under the dim lighting of the living room you’re in, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s positively beaming with how brightly he shines, and it takes everything in you not to shake apart when he knocks his forehead against yours and that utter joy gets even closer.

“Then you know exactly how I feel about you.” He whispers, his warm breath puffing against your lips. You can barely believe your ears—it feels like a dream come true. For you to be held in his lap, close enough to see the little indigo flecks in his eyes, to count each individual lash on his eyelids, to see the wonder and love and lust in his eyes as he stares at you deeply.

“You–you do?” You know you sound disbelieving, but this moment truly doesn’t feel real to you. 

“That’s so hard to believe, to you? That I’d return your feelings?” 

You struggle to answer, struggle to do anything when the hand on your waist tightens, the one cupping your cheek sliding around to thread through the hairs at the nape of your neck. Caleb doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer, though, his eyes dropping to focus on your parted lips. You flush at the heat in his gaze, swallowing back a groan when his fingers slip higher up your waist, catching on the fishnets and meeting your bare skin.

“I could show you, you know. If you give me a chance.” He murmurs, lightly dragging his nails against your skin. Goosebumps raise along your arms at the thought of him proving his love for you. You…you want that. You want that so much. Something must show on your face because Caleb chuckles, dragging his nose up to your temple to meet your hairline. You feel the soft warmth of his lips against your forehead, an action that makes you shiver.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak as the anticipation rushes through your veins, the spreading warmth of your belly down to the throbbing heat of your cunt.

You barely make it through his apartment door before he pounces on you.

His hands grip your face as he crowds you against the door, lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You moan into his mouth, your arms lacing around his neck. You scratch your nails lightly through his hair and he groans deeply into your mouth. The sound causes your cunt to pulse and you feel yourself leak against the cotton of your panties.

His palms slide down your neck and then down your sides before they travel around to grip your ass. Within the next moment, you're lifted into his arms, and you scramble to throw your legs around his waist as he blindly moves you toward his bed. You trail kisses down his chin to his throat, lightly sucking on the thin skin there. God, it feels like a fantasy to be here in his arms, getting the privilege to mark him up like this.

“Fuck.” He grunts when your teeth dig sharply into the side of his neck, the hands on your ass squeezing roughly before tossing you onto his bed. You’re panting harshly as your eyes travel up his own heaving chest. The lights in his bedroom are dim, and they cast exaggerated shadows against his tall form. As dark as the room is, though, it does nothing to hide the raw desire in his eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Every inch of bare skin revealed makes you even wetter, and you squeeze your thighs together when he lets the shirt drape open. You shiver, biting your lip as Caleb drops to his knees on the bed, the buckle of his belt jingling as he unloops it from his jeans.

You swiftly follow when you realize you’ve just been staring, tossing off your top to reveal your bare tits to the cool room. Hands shaky from adrenaline and the slight chill, you reach for your skirt next, but stop when you’re suddenly yanked forward by your ankle. Gasping, you fall to your back and are pulled closer to Caleb. He easily positions you partly over his lap, legs spread and half folded over. Your entire body feels hot from that easy display of strength, and you whimper when he leans down to mouth against the side of your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

His first sentence ever since you left the party startles you, but you don’t have time to speak when his teeth dig into your skin. All you can do is gasp out, fingers latching onto his shoulders as he licks over the mark before doing the same to another patch of skin.

“How long I’ve wanted to have you under me, spread out and fucking shaking apart.” Your back arches when one of his hands cup your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers while the other hand slides down to unzip the back of your skirt.

“You looked so pretty tonight, you know that? Almost didn’t let you leave ‘cuz you were just too tempting lookin’ like that.” Those words send a bolt of heat through you, and you want to move against him, but you can’t, bent in half and held down by the bulk of his body.

“S’because of me, yeah? Got all dolled up cause you were going out with me?” You nod, helpless to do anything else when he slowly grinds his clothed cock against you. You can feel the hard ridge even through the layer of his jeans and your skirt, and you moan when you realize how fucking big he is.

“Wanted…wanted you to think I was pretty.” You gasp when the hand on your tit pinches your nipple, shaking when his other hand finishes unzipping your skirt.

“I always think you’re gorgeous, princess. But I don’t mind you dressing up for me. Can get you all the pretty little skirts and tops you want if you model ‘em for me. Only for me.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before separating himself slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up when you chase him. But he easily pushes you back down, closing your legs and yanking off the skirt like it personally offended him. He doesn’t even bother taking off your fishnets or your lacy panties after he spreads your legs around his waist, merely pushing them aside enough so he can stick two fingers inside of your cunt.

“F-fuck…Caleb!” You cry out, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you toss your head back. His words combined with the stretch of his fingers makes you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You’ve never had sex before—the only experience you’ve had were the different toys and dildos you have stashed away in your apartment. Other boys never caught your attention, and you were always able to satisfy yourself just fine on your own so you didn’t think you needed the touch of another. But having Caleb’s fingers inside of you now, pistoning in and out was electrifying and you know that it was going to ruin you when you finally feel him inside of you.

The thought has you suddenly desperate for it, and you weakly paw at the bulge in his jeans. He bucks into your hand with a low groan, the pace he sets with his fingers faltering once you get a semi-decent hold on his cock. He returns to his pace soon after stopping though, using his left thumb to rub against your clit as he slides the fingers of his right hand in all the way and curls them. You jolt at the intense feeling, desperation getting stronger as that coil in your belly tightens further and further.

“Give it to me, please, want it so bad, gimmie it now—” You whine, your other hand tugging at the loose end of his shirt while the hand on his bulge clumsily rubs up and down his dick. You blink the half-formed tears out of your eyes, pleading with your face as you desperately try and get him to listen to you. He spits out something too low for you to hear above the squelching noises of your sopping wet cunt, but you soon forget about that when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you just right.

You jolt hard, legs wildly jerking as a white-hot bolt of heat sizzles its way up your spine. The cry that falls from your lips sounds more like a wounded animal, but Caleb’s eyes are dark with satisfaction. He presses that spot inside of you again, rubbing insistently while he does the same to your clit. You can literally feel your brain melt out of your ears from the dual sensations, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his fingers. You’re on the precipice, riding the edge of that peak but you still aren’t quite there yet and it makes even more tears fall from your half lidded eyes out of frustration.

“You close?” But Caleb’s voice was more statement than question, eyes piercing as he watches you start to break apart underneath his hands. You nod anyway, crying out in protest when he slips his finger out. Only to squeal when he lifts you so that you're balancing on your shoulders, your thighs resting around his neck while he buries his face into your cunt.

You can’t even form words when his tongue traces over your clit, his hands placed on the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping tight enough to bruise. He eats you out without any foreplay, going from sucking on your clit to dipping his tongue inside of your hole, trailing nipping kisses to your inner thighs before he’s right back to licking into your cunt while nosing at your clit. It’s so much stimulation—too much stimulation for you as tears drip down your flushed cheeks. You can feel it coming, your orgasm. It’s in the way you clench on his tongue, thighs wrapped so tightly around his neck that you have to be suffocating him. But, if anything, the fervor he eats you out seems to grow, trialing one of his hands from your thigh to lightly trace over your hole. He slips two fingers back inside again, and using his tongue, fucks your dripping slick back into you. Your orgasm crashes into you when he hits that spot again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as white sparks flash across your vision. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, legs spasming around his neck as you finally come around his fingers.

“Mhm, fuck, that’s it. C’mon, let me have it all, princess.” Caleb’s words ride out on a slight laugh, the vibration of his hoarse voice making your cunt clench around his still moving fingers. The intensity of your orgasm flees, but he’s still thrusting in and out of you. Your voice is shrill when he rubs your clit hard, purposely aiming for that little spot inside of you as oversensitivity wracks through your frame.

“C-C-Caleb—!” You can barely get anything past your crying mouth, hands reaching out to tangle in his hair as he continues to overstimulate you. You somehow get even wetter, the sounds he’s causing between your spread legs are absolutely filthy as they echo out into the dark room.

“You’ve got another for me, don’t you. You wanna be my good girl, yeah? Give me another and I’ll give you what you want.” He licks another stripe from your hole to your clit, fingers rubbing that spot inside of you, pulling back to widen, before thrusting back inside and repeating. Through the haze filling your mind, you can hear the order he gives you. And of course, because you are a good girl for him—his good girl who listens to everything he says—you give him exactly what he wants.

You come for the second time, squeezing so tightly around his fingers that he can’t even move them inside of you anymore when you do. Your back arches off the bed at an insane curve, ragged moans and cries erupting from your hoarse throat before you fall limply back to the bed, hands falling to rest at your sides. ‘Did I…just come on command..?’ You feel tired and wrung out, but that burn of arousal doesn’t fade. Even when the feeling on your clit and in your cunt make you squeal from oversensitivity, you’re still soaking wet.

“Did so well for me, princess. So fucking beautiful when you come. You’ll look even prettier when you’re spread out on my cock–mh, fuck.” Caleb groans, slowly retracting his fingers, watching raptly as your cunt gushes out more slick. You whine out something unintelligible, your entire body shivering from the aftershocks of two orgasms in a row. But still, you dutifully let yourself be manhandled, half lidded eyes lazily tracking Caleb as he bends you in half again. Your eyes lock onto the smears of your cum and slick across his mouth and cheeks, something inside of you strangely warm at the sight of him marked by you.

Caleb’s muttering all sorts of filth about you under his breath as your eyes trail down his chin to his jaw, that satisfaction burning brighter when you notice the hickeys you gave him darken. Your attention is captivated by him as he slips his jeans and briefs down just low enough to pull out his cock. You can see the tip of it from how you’re angled, and the sight causes your cunt to clench and unclench at the thought of finally taking it.

“Fuck, look at you. Prettiest fuckin’ pussy and for my eyes only, yeah? No one else has seen you like this, and no one else will, cuz your little cunt is mine, right? Say it.” 

“M-my pussy, s’yours, Caleb. It’s all yours.” You whimper out. Caleb slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, doing it again when you wheeze out a moan. You wiggle your hips as much as you can in your position, wordlessly begging for him to finally fuck into you. He smiles at your desperation, but it’s a far cry from those sweet, gentle smiles he usually gives you. The slant of his smile is mean, his eyebrows rounded out into a condescending expression that makes you gush.

“Need this dick, yeah? Need me to empty that little head of yours—to make that itch go away.” He slaps the tip of his cock against your clit again before trailing it lower, lightly pushing into your hole before slipping it out. He does that a few more times, all with that mean little smile on his face as he watches your desperation turn into more frustrated tears.

“Caleb!” You cry out, tears slipping down the sides of your cheeks. He tsks, leaning over you until the tip of his nose brushes your temple.

“What did I tell you earlier about using your manners?” 

You shiver at the warning in his tone, mouth falling open when he trails gentle kisses down the side of your face until he reaches your lips. This close, you can taste yourself covering the lower half of his face, see the sweat that’s beading on his forehead and wetting his hairline, the wideness of his pupils as they eclipse the natural purple of his iris, the flush to his cheeks as he poises himself over you. You do what you always do in front of Caleb when he asks you for something.

You cave in.

“Please, please, please Caleb fuck me. Need you so bad, need you to make me stupid, please, want you—” You choke as he pushes in, eyes rolling back as the stretch of his overwhelms all of your senses. He’s so big that it feels like an eternity before he bottoms out. And when he does, you can feel the tip bump into something smooth and hard deep inside you. You jerk when he brushes that place, hiccuping when he shifts and hits that point again. Something…different is building up inside you, something that doesn’t quite feel like a regular orgasm. But you don’t have the breath to voice that weirdness out loud, not when you’re stuck staring up at Caleb’s slack, wet mouth as he looms above you.

“Thaaat’s fucking it, fuck—” He cuts himself off with a low moan, large hands pressing down on your thighs as he pulls out a little, then pushes back in. You realize that you’re drooling when Caleb leans down to lick it away from the corner of your mouth, the silver chain bumping against your skin and causing goosebumps to raise along your skin. You chase after his mouth with a little whine—you can taste yourself on him and it makes you clench down on his cock. He shivers, groaning before meeting you for a proper kiss, all the while keeping up his slow and deep thrusts. He puts more weight on your thighs as he kisses you deeper, tongue tangling with yours as you shakily reach up to throw your arms over his shoulders.

His cock hits even deeper than before, and you fall back with a drawn out moan, eyes unseeing as he does it again. It’s hard for you to register anything else when all you can focus on is the feel of his dick hitting that wall over and over and over again. Your mouth stays wide open as he slowly but harshly pounds into you, hiccupping breaths exiting you every time he bottoms out. You feel like you’re dying—the heat damn near suffocating you as it spreads like wildfire from your lower belly throughout the rest of your body. It’s too much too soon but you can’t help but love it—love how Caleb feels inside you, love how wild he looks above you, eyes half lidded and mouth parted from the slew of filth he’s spitting at you.

“So fucking tight, princess. Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans out, turning his head to lay biting kisses against one of your calves. Your mouth only drops open wider, hiccupping again when he slides his other hand over to play with your clit. It takes one, two, three rubs before you’re clenching down again. White noise fills the space between your ears as you come for the third time on his cock, except you feel something else come out of you.

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting all over him, the wetness slipping down your thighs and his dick to wet the sheets below. You don’t realize much of anything past that point. Not the fact that Caleb jerks his hips forward as he finally came. Not the fact that he bit down hard on your calf as he did so. Not the fact that his other hand kept rubbing your clit, causing even more liquid to squirt out of you. 

Nothing else mattered in your mind at that moment. You were floating, weightless and thoughtless in a fog so dense that you couldn’t see a thing. It was freeing. It was so, so fucking peaceful that you almost didn’t want to leave. But there was someone coaxing you back with sweet kisses and large, warm hands. So you slowly but surely woke from that fog, blinking your puffy eyes open to see Caleb staring down at you in slight concern.

“Back with me, princess.” You nod, but it feels like your head weighs about a hundred pounds when you do. 

“Mhm.” You hum when it’s clear that he’s waiting for a verbal answer. The smile you get is worth the slight discomfort of using your voice, though.

“Here, drink some of this water and we can go to sleep.” You blink again as he helps you sit up, holding onto a glass of lukewarm water with a purple bendy straw. You drink as much water as you can, and are slightly surprised when you end up finishing the whole glass. Caleb laughs a little at your bewilderment, but soon he’s bundling you up in his arms.

You two lay back down and get comfortable on clean sheets—something you don’t think too much of at the moment. You lean into Caleb’s heat as he spoons you from behind, sighing when he slides one arm underneath your head. That arm locks around your neck in a chokehold, while his other limb securely wraps around your waist, hand resting low on your stomach.

“Goodnight, princess.”

“G’night.” You whisper, pressing one last sleepy kiss against the bicep against your cheek before you allow darkness to encroach on your vision.

[0wlettie]

sfw, jealousy & light angst, gege usage, dogboy!caleb thoughts cont. pt.II (pt. I), wc 3.4k

dogboy!caleb who you grow closer with as the weeks pass. he becomes the closest, most important person to you besides your grandma. closer than a friend but not really a brother, you decide that he’ll be your gege from now on; something that lights him up from the inside out when he hears you call him that, tail wagging so hard that you’re scared it’ll fall off. you do everything together like watch movies—both scary and not—and play games, go out for walks and to play at the park. you’re both attached at the hip, living in each other’s shadow. where one goes the other is sure to follow, and while it does kind of worry your grandma, she also realizes that this is better than you being lonely. you smile more; are quicker to laugh and joke rather than retreat into yourself. so despite her initial trepidation, she lets things play out how they will.

dogboy!caleb who greets you after you get home from school with snacks ready and a movie already paused on the t.v. some mishap with his paperwork forces him to wait some time until he’s ready to attend classes, so you’ve got plenty of time to spend together all on your lonesome; your grandma taking more shifts at a local pharmacy since caleb can watch over you now instead of your next door neighbors. sometimes he surprises you with something you’ve never seen before, and no matter how much you pester him on how he found the obscure movie, show or anime, he never says a word. it’s an exciting time for you, and you find that no matter what you do, he never seems to mind taking care of you. whether that means he has to coddle you because you wake up in a mood or if he has to deal with your clinginess, always wanting to pet his ears and tail, as well as playfully wrestle with him whenever he teases you too much. he’s just as eager to be around you as you are him, and it makes you feel special.

dogboy!caleb who transfers to your school a month and a half after coming home. your town is a bit on the small side, so they often combine some of the younger kids with some of the older ones, and your school happens to double up as both an elementary and a middle school. you’re ecstatic! he’s a little older than you so you don’t have the same classes, but you two get to walk home together. and, when he’s got free periods, he walks over to your class and your teacher allows you two to hang out! for once, you find school to be exciting to attend rather than something to be afraid of. for once, you don’t eat lunch alone and miserable.

dogboy!caleb who is unsurprisingly popular at school. it takes a little while for other kids to warm up to him—hybrids are rare in your town, and they’ve never been around a hybrid kid before—but in no time at all, they’re practically tripping over themselves to get close to him. something that initially doesn’t bother you as much, because you’re proud that your gege is so well liked! you get to show him off, and you soak up the jealous glares and awed looks you get when he walks you home, swinging your held hands together while you babble on about your day.

dogboy!caleb who quickly rises to the top of the social food chain; joining the basketball team, being nominated to be on the student council, having some of the top scores, etc, etc. He’s got loads of people and obligations vying for his attention, from his buddies from the team to the student council planning for school events to being asked to tutor in study groups. as weeks turn into months, you end up seeing him less and less as he gets busier and busier with his extracurriculars. you often have to wait for him in the library so you can walk home together, and it slowly begins to bother you when you're stuck there for hours and hours at a time. watching his classmates fawn all over him, laughing and joking, smiling without a care in the world. as pretty girls older than you giggle and twirl their hair, leaning in close to his face to layer compliment after compliment on him. while you’re left to sit in the corner, alone and brooding as he shoots you the occasional apologetic grimace.

dogboy!caleb who begins to notice that you’ve grown quiet on your walks back from school. you’re fine by the time you two get back home, and maybe you cling to him a little harder, but it’s nothing too out of the usual. but he can just feel something is off whenever the day starts again and the cycle back home repeats. And repeats. And repeats until even going to sleep doesn’t dissuade your pensive, almost angry mood. and he tries everything to make you smile, to make you happy but nothing really seems to work anymore. you give him the cold shoulder, reply to his questions with silences or curt words. you two don’t even watch movies anymore, and he gets progressively panicked the more and more you seem to drift away no matter how hard he tries to keep you in his hold. your grandma notices, because of course she does, but the you refuse to answer her questions, and caleb has none to give. she knows that you are a bit of a handful in terms of temperament; snappy and standoffish when you fall into one of your moods. she figures that this must be ones of those times, and she opts to wait just a little bit before she really puts her foot down.

dogboy!caleb who once again leads you to the library. it’s another study group this time. its supposed to be him and a few of his teammates, but when you two walk through the doors, it’s a lot…bigger than he expects. it's a few of his team milling about the large table where their usual study sessions happen, as well as a whole bunch of girls from his class. he notices how your already sour mood worsens, and a low whine is building up in his throat before he forcibly swallows it back down. glancing at you, he offers a smile that screams out an apology. you hardly react, flicking over him with dark, unreadable eyes before you sigh and begin to shuffle away. your hair is down today, and he can smell the remnants of your vanilla shampoo once you sharply duck his outstretched hand. it stings something fierce when you shoot him a mean glare, but before he can possibly ask what’s wrong--what he did to make you look at him like that--you’ve already turned your back to him. you angrily stalk over to your designated corner, roughly tossing your bag down onto the floor; snagging a book from the inside before you bury your nose in the pages.

dogboy!caleb who ignores the call of his name, following after you without hesitation. your hide your face within the paperback held in between your small hands, and it causes a something heavy and painful to weigh down on his chest when you ignore his presence. his shadow casts over your form, and even though every hair is prickling along your skin at finally having his devoted attention on you, the spiteful part of yourself wants him to suffer a little more. it’s mean. petty and unfair, you know. but you hate the fact that you have to share him now. he was yours first. he was the first kid to accept you for who you are, flaws and all. you know him better than those annoying classmates of his, those insufferable girls who look at him with hearts in their eyes, those dumb boys who hog him on the weekends with their stupid sport. but he still gives them more attention than you. getting home from school is less like you two spending time together, and more like he’s busy studying or chatting on his phone with his friends. and you know he doesn't mean to exclude you, because when he does have any excess time, he spends it with you--as rare as that is nowadays. he even invites you out when he hangs outside with his friends. you always go because you just can’t help yourself, but the pit in leaves in your stomach when you sit on the sidelines and watch him have fun with others only gets worse and worse. caleb is yours; your best friend, your gege. but, it doesn’t seem like anyone ever picks up on it, least of all him.

dogboy!caleb who doesn't stop his hand from snatching the book away from your face. you make an angry noise, curling your fingers into fists as you place them in your lap--keeping your eyes locked onto your knuckles to avoid his burning stare. he rests his hands on the table, leaning down to try and catch your eye. but you stubbornly refuse, closing your eyes and turning your head no matter what angle he looks at you, staying silent in the face of his questions and concern. you hate to admit it, but it does warm you inside to see him try so hard to get your attention. but it also makes you feel icky and gross, hearing the barely bitten back whines, the growing desperation as he tries his best to stay calm. you waver, in the face of him trying so hard to figure out what’s wrong, so with one long sigh, you finally open your eyes and look at him. his entire body is tense, ears flattened to his head as he looks at you with furrowed brows and wide, almost hurt eyes. the sight immediately has you softening the frown on your face. you reach out to curl your pinkie around his, softly apologizing for being so mean.

dogboy!caleb who immediately relaxes at your touch, the tense line of his shoulders drooping into a semi-comfortable looking slouch while his ears perk up. his entire hand wraps around yours as he quietly asks you what’s wrong, peering at you with his shiny, dusk-purple irises. you pout, avoiding his gaze as guilt weighs heavy in your belly. he squeezes your hand and asks again, but the shame of your actions begins to catch up with you and you find you don’t have the words to explain yourself. you don’t know the nitty, gritty details of his early childhood, but you know enough to gather that he hasn’t really experienced a “normal” school life. if he gets a little caught up in the excitement of it all, then you shouldn’t be punishing him for it. that’s…that’s just cruel, and your gege is the last person you want to be cruel to. even if it makes you angry that he’s now others’ too, it’s something you’re gonna have to accept. if only to keep from hurting him further.

dogboy!caleb who relents when he sees the frustrated wobble of your lower lip. he knows that face, and he knows that it’s better to give you time to sort out your thoughts rather than push further. so he sighs and lets go of your hand, reaching over to lightly tweak your nose. you whine a little, swatting his hand away while trying your best to look annoyed. but how can you be when caleb is giving you the attention you’re so desperately craving. when he looks so relieved at having you speak to him.

dogboy!caleb who smiles at the sparkle of humor in your eyes, quietly promising to you that he’ll make you whatever you want once they get back home. but, only after you tell him what’s been going on lately. you bite your lip, but slowly nod at his imploring stare. you don’t like being mad at caleb. you hate it, in fact. it feels wrong to associate negative things with him when all he’s ever made you feel is accepted and happy. until now, at least. so you quietly agree, giggling when you can see the tip of his wagging tail peak over the edge of the table. that lovely sound finally puts him at ease, and feeling overwhelmed with relief and excitement, he leans over and nuzzles the tip of his nose into the top of your head. you giggle again, titling forward to brush your cheek against the front of his shoulder you can reach. he promises you that he’ll be done after an hour, which is a lot shorter than he normally stays. he pulls back, gently booping your nose with his finger. he asks if you can be patient with him, and feeling so much better now that he’s giving you the chance to explain, you eagerly agree with a real smile. seeing it makes that frantic energy inside of him calm. he doesn’t know what exactly he did, but it’s clear that it’s him that’s been making you so upset. or at least, what he’s been doing. it has been a long time since it’s just been the two of you outside of school work or meal times, and he feels like an idiot for just noticing it. if what really made you so upset was his busy schedule, then he can tweak it and spend less time out with others. anything to bring you back to him.

dogboy!caleb who jogs over to the study group, waving off their concerns with a practiced smile. he warns them that he’s on a time limit, and laughs off their disappointed but friendly ‘boos’. quickly, though, he gets into study mode and the group begins discussing their recent math quiz and what they did wrong on it. caleb sets a timer on his phone—one grandma had gotten him since you were still a little too young to have one in her opinion—and settles into his seat. he’s really only here to offer support, as he’s had no trouble at all when it comes to his classes. so when one of the girls from his homeroom asks for his input, he doesn’t hesitate to offer his help.

dogboy!caleb who casually leans over to peer at her paper, and you watch as the girl he’s helping flushes at his easy going smile and bright eyes. her own gaze flickers from his ears to his face and back again while he talks her through whatever her problem is, and your good mood vanishes. that familiar uncomfortable burn settles within your chest, and you dig your nails into your dress. you don’t like the way she’s looking at him, you don’t like it at all. it doesn’t help that another girl slowly inches her way over, and after he’s clearly done helping the first, the second seizes her opportunity and she immediately pounces. her voice is loud and whiny enough to carry over to your corner, and your eye twitches when caleb laughs and calms down her dramatic complaints, easily switching over to pay attention to her instead. on and on this goes as the hour ticks down slowly for you. you want to look away, you want to ignore all those girls who are so much prettier than you are. who are thinner and sweet and cute in a way you’ll never be. who get to spend time with caleb when you can’t; who get to steal his attention away when you barely have it despite living together. but it’s like your eyes are glued to the scene, like you’re frozen in place. that itching burn grows hotter and hotter the longer you look, until you suddenly just can’t take it anymore and you have to leave.

dogboy!caleb who, after forty-five minutes, gets some time to breath. he checks the time on his phone, idly planning on what you could possible want for dinner. he’s thinking up a few different options when he turns his head to peek at what you’re doing, only—you aren’t there. your seat is empty, your bag gone and there’s not a trace to be found of you. his heart drops to his stomach as his eyes frantically dart around the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. he’s trying to keep his head cool, but he can feel the panic in his chest grow stronger the longer he realizes that he didn’t even notice you leave. he quickly rises to his feet, ignoring the questions thrown his way as he tosses his bag over his shoulder. he doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find you. nothing else matters but you. nothing.

dogboy!caleb who hones in on your scent immediately. he'd memorized it, early on, and he's gotten plenty of time to adjust to the overwhelming smells staining the halls. it's no trouble at all to follow his nose out the library doors, not even bothering to acknowledge the concerned calls of his study group. his mind is focused on nothing but finding you. everything around him simultaneously goes sharp and blurry, eyes flicking around as your scent trails down the halls and out the front gates of the school. the energy building up beneath his skin sets him on edge, an unfamiliar kind of restlessness sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. how did he not realize you were gone? how could he have been so wrapped up in that stupid study group to not notice you leaving? he’s attuned to everything about you, at least, he thought he was. he clenches his jaw when, instead of going down their usual path, the vanilla-lavender-sea salt scent of yours trails down another. it’s a route you haven’t taken with him before; a route that leads you further into town rather than down the backstreets to their home.

dogboy!caleb who can’t stop his feet from moving faster, the rhythmic thud of his bag bouncing against his spine. the further he jogs, the stronger your scent gets. his heart pounds even faster inside of his chest, eyes focused and dark as he glances around the street he’s turned onto. it’s not like it’s a bad part of the neighborhood to be in, there’s even a park further up the street. but, there are a lot of older kids milling about the sidewalk. teenagers from the neighboring high school, judging by their uniforms, and it makes him nervous to imagine you wandering about by yourself. he sniffs deeply, head instinctively following the line of your scent as it leads towards the playground. he frowns as he approaches the edges of the park, noticing a small groups of high school boys hanging around a nearby bench. their eyes are drawn towards the park, but he’s a little too far from it to see what they’re looking at clearly. he sniffs again, his ears flicking as he instinctively listens in on their conversation.

‘who’s the kid?’

‘i don’t know man, when i walked up kai was just talkin’ to her.’

‘isn’t it kinda weird that an elementary schooler is hanging around at this hour?’

‘maybe he’s tryna figure that out? if he can, he’ll probably walk her home if she’s lost.’

‘yea, that’s true. you gotta admit though, she’s kinda creepy the more you look at her. i mean, cmon, she’s so gloomy, it’s making me sad just lookin’ at her. she looks like she could stare right through my soul, it’s freaky, bro.’

‘don’t be rude, man, she’s just a kid. what’s if she’s got something going on at home?’

‘maybe, i guess. but what kinda normal kid carries around a fuckin’ ghostface bookbag anyway? isn’t that like, a rated r movie?’

dogboy!caleb who pauses halfway through his step. there’s only one elementary school kid he knows who carries that kinda bag around. the blood in his veins turns to ice when he realizes the girl they’re talking about is you. in the presence of some unknown high school boy. his teeth itch inside of his mouth and he rushes forward without hesitation. he doesn’t care who the hell that other boy is, he’s not gonna leave you with him no matter how ‘nice’ he may appear to you.

previous episode: pt. I

next episode: pt. III

*jazz hands* tada !! part two ! again, had to cut it off here cuz this shit was getting suuuuuper long like jeez i fucking yap too much i swear;;;; good news is, though, i won't leave you hanging for long ! i plan to put something out by tomorrow (and i promise i won't get distracted;;;;) so be on the lookout for part three if you're interested !

edit: if you want to keep up with this story, i have no issues tagging ! but if you do follow me and you don’t have an age in your bio i will block you, i’m sorry but im an 18+ blog despite the fluff and i don’t want minors following me; adding this because i’ve seen an influx of people and i guess they didn’t realize i’ve got rules ;;; so please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

[0wlettie]

⏾⋆.˚─── rafayel x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: rafayel just sees you as a good friend, and even though you want more than that, you're perfectly content staying by his side in whatever way he wants you. but when you go out drinking with a few friends and he decides to crash the party, you discover that your original assumption might be a little off…

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 20.9k, light angst, pining, pining, PINING, pet names (cutie, beautiful, pretty girl), possessiveness, really leaning into the eldritch/monster merman vibe w/rafayel here, light alcohol consumption (reader gets a little tipsy but it's nothing crazy), frottage, coming in pants, fingerfucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk (but in a needy sorta way), under-negotiated kink, unprotected sex, mating press, biting

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you prefer ^^

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: hello ~ hello ~ i'm back again with ANOTHER monster length fic. i'd just recently unlocked the bond lvl 55 with him, and inspiration just smacked me in the face and i immediately started working on this baby. beta'd by me so any mistakes are mine entirely; title comes from Bambi by BAEKHYUN because not only is the song good, but idk baekhyun just gives off raf vibes to me and it kinda fit so why not? this is nsfw so Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked)

You’re in the middle of shopping on your day off when you get a phone call.

You work as an assistant. It’s mostly a freelance job, as you often take on multiple clients a year rather than just stick to one. It also helps that you have as many connections as you do, so you’re in a fortunate position where you have a choice in who you decide to take up on offers. Months earlier a friend of yours from college, Estella, offered you a position to work with Rafayel Qi—a notoriously reclusive and aloof painter. Her fiancé worked closely with him, and seeing as how they were scheduled to go on a trip together soon, someone needed to be there to fill in for Thomas.

Curious, and always willing to help out a friend, you agreed.

It was a relatively normal time for you, all things considered. Rafayel was surprisingly easy to work with, something you weren’t exactly expecting based on all of the rumors surrounding his personality. You were also well versed in working with eccentric kinds of people, so maybe you were unconsciously gearing up for more of that. Instead, you got a pleasantly easy experience. Sure, it was a bit awkward and a little stilted because woah, you weren’t exactly ready for the inhuman beauty awaiting you in that bright and clear studio room. And yeah, you were having a bit of a hard time focusing on Thomas’s introductions when Rafayel kept staring at you like that—something strangely intense in those pretty sunset-hues of his. 

Like he was trying to peel back all of your layers with his eyes alone.

All that intensity vanished, however, as soon as you started working for him. You thought you saw glimpses of that emotion when you caught Rafayel staring at you a little too long, but it always flickered away before you could really be sure. Thankfully, there really wasn’t much you had to do besides answer a few emails on Thomas’s behalf and cater to whatever little whim Rafayel felt like indulging on that day—whether that meant visiting a faraway town for ‘inspiration’ or spending a day inside, helping him sort out the various boxes of junk he bought online in a shopping frenzy. It was nice, you can admit, getting to know your client.

Bratty and with a smart mouth that often makes you bust a gut laughing at the sheer audacity of his retorts. Needy for your time and attention—childishly so, calling you over no matter the hour for help in solving the easiest of problems. But there was a sweetness to him. A gentle sort of kindness that he showed when he noticed things about you. When he bought you cute little trinkets or went out of his way to send you good morning or goodnight texts; things that he knows cheers you up working as hard as you do.

Even as the original three weeks you planned to be employed morphed into five, due to the young couple encountering a freak storm that left their pleasure cruise stranded on an island while the cruise line company sent another to rescue them and the others on the trip. Even as Thomas and Estella made it safely back and you were free to take on other clients. Rafayel stayed in contact, and clearly you two had built up a bond, evident by the various phone calls and texts filling up your previous empty and dry inbox. But meeting up in person was difficult compared to before. Conflicting schedules kept you both missing each other by a hair—either you were too booked by the multiple clients you had, or Rafayel too busy with deadlines and art galleries demanding his presence. 

It was draining, to think about. Silly, really. You were an adult with an adult life—of course you would sometimes go long stretches of time without being able to see others, even those you consider good friends. But once you absently checked the date and noticed it’d been over nine months since you’ve seen his pretty smile without the barrier of a phone screen, a deep seated weariness weighed heavily on your chest. Dramatic of you to feel so unsettled by someone you’ve only just met, but you feel as if you’ve known Rafayel for a lifetime. Like some part of you recognized him from a past life of yours, and it’s now missing, held within the palms of his elegantly beautiful hands. It’s not something you’ve ever felt for a friend before, and no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you do only see him as a friend, nothing seems to stick.

It makes you scoff thinking about it. Whether or not you considered yourself friends wasn’t important—all that mattered was Rafayel’s view, and clearly he sees you as friends. You sure as hell chatted like them, and while you slightly resented the platonic undertones to your conversations, you still cherished the fact that you both talk everyday if either of you could help it. 

Just a few hours ago you both were on the phone and you listened while he ranted about the piece he was making for an upcoming client of his. All the art speak flew over your head a bit, but from what you could gather, it had something to do with who the commission was for rather than the commission itself. An older gentleman who royally pissed Rafayel off with his attitude and demands. Just remembering the angry rapid-fire insults has you cracking a smile—he was positively ruthless when talking about his client.

The thought momentarily lifts your spirits, but no matter how hard you try to deny how you feel, it doesn’t make the ache go away. Phone calls and texts aren’t enough for you; you feel almost…greedy, with how desperately you want to see him in person. How you crave to hear the teasing lilt to his voice, to see the embers of something he refuses to name flicker in his eyes, in his expression when he thinks you don’t see. How you want to feel the lingering heat in his fingers when they brush against yours by accident, or when he playfully tugs at your bangs, or any part of your clothes to get your attention. But you can’t. The universe seems hellbent on making sure of that.

So here you are, trying to drown out this lingering sadness by filling your freezer with all sorts of sweet treats. Eating always helps you feel better, even if it doesn’t necessarily help your waistline. And it’s here, while you decide between getting either a pint of brownie batter or a pint chocolate chip cookie dough that you get a phone call. You jolt, nearly dropping both pints in your hands as the familiar ringtone of Estella blares out from your pocket.

‘Fuck it.’ Your cheeks redden when you catch a few bewildered stares thrown your way, and you chuck both pints into your basket before hurriedly fumbling for your phone.

“You couldn’t have texted me, Stella.” You whisper-yell, ducking your head and hurrying into another aisle. You still had to snag a few bags of chips before leaving—that and maybe something fizzy to drink. She laughs, and you realize that she’s gotta at least be a little tipsy to sound that chipper on a dreary Wednesday night. Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear her hiccup a giggle, the sound of another voice faintly echoing through the line before she turns her attention back to you.

“[✦]! Are you free say....this Saturday?” You blink, mentally tracking your week. For once in a long time, you’re free from any of your clients, at least until the end of the month. You were intending to surprise Rafayel with a visit, but he told you that he had some kind of exhibit to attend, so you were just going to spend the night by yourself. Pitifully watching another drama you had lined up while you gorged on ice cream and take-out.

“I should be…why’re you asking?” You reach out and grab a few bags of chips, eyeing the stack of cookies next to them before shaking your head and heading off to the front to checkout. You already had plenty of sweets in your basket, and it was already bad enough that you were getting two pints instead of one. ‘At least I got the water in my basket.’ You soothe yourself, ignoring the other unhealthy snacks sitting next to the giant bottle of water nestled at the bottom as you toss the chips on top. 

“It’s been forever since I saw you! Me and Thomas were thinkin’ about going out. I was thinking of inviting a few friends from college since it's been forever since we last saw each other. You should totally come!” You wince at her volume, giving a polite smile to the lady checking you out before dumping all of your items onto the conveyor belt.

“Ah, I don’t know…I’m not really the ‘going out’ type, you know…” You nervously chew on your bottom lip, paying for your food and quickly escaping the slightly judgmental look on your cashier’s face as you balance your phone in one hand and the heavy bags in your other. You didn’t care at all for the way she was eyeing your bags, but that feeling soon vanishes when Estella whines in your ear—effectively distracting you from the embarrassment.

“Don’t be like that, I promise it’s just to get a few drinks, that’s all! Nothin’ super clubby or anything like that!” You feel yourself begin to waver. You’ve never been one to really say no to your friends, or really anyone coming to you for help like this. It’s why you’ve kept people out, and it’s also why you think you attract the people you do. Whiny, pushy and all around bossy folks who have no trouble bullying you into doing what they want or think is best for you. Not that you’re complaining necessarily, you’ve been given the gift of having such a caring friend like Estella and now Rafayel too. Bratty as they are, they’re also extremely loyal and will go to bat for you without question.

So really, what’s going out for a few hours of drinks in exchange?

As if sensing your hesitation, she pushes just a little harder.

“C’mon, I swear on my dead granny that you’ll have an amazing time! It’ll just be me ‘n’ Thomas and prolly a few of us from the old study group—Jessica and Randy, maybe even Lyrica if she’s got the time too. Ooh, and Jazzy will totally wanna come, it’s been ages since he’s met us!” 

You make a face at the name ‘Randy’, and it almost convinces you to bail out right then and there. However, you can already see the stupidly effective puppy dog eyes Estella is giving you through the phone, and the long suffering groan you let out underneath your breath is more telling than you’d like to admit. Something that Estella hears through the phone because she squeals and smacks her hand into a…table maybe? Whatever it is, it hurts her enough for her to hiss out a few swears so fierce that it makes you snort.

“Fuck, stupid fucking table…attacking me like that…”

“More like you attacked the table, sweetheart.” You hear Thomas’s voice get closer to the phone, and Estella’s voice goes all gooey and soft. 

“But babycakes, it was the table’s fault that my hand hurts now. Who cares if I gave it a little love tap, make it apologize to me for being mean!” Thomas laughs and you smile when you hear him, momentarily choosing to ignore the slight discomfort of her inviting…Randy. Your chest warms from their obvious love as they mutter sweet nonsense to each other too low for you to understand, but jealousy follows quicker than you expect, turning the whole interaction into something sour in your mouth. You want what she has desperately; a little too desperately, if you’re feeling like this over barely there PDA. ‘Get a grip, girl. Jeez.’ You huff, exasperated with yourself, and do your best to swallow back all of the ugly, nasty feelings threatening to spill from your mouth.

“Just text me the details and I’ll see if I can work something out, yeah? I’ll leave you two alone for now.” You plaster a smile onto your face, thankful when your voice comes out steady and normal. Estella cheers, but it's faint sounding and Thomas answers before you can ask.

“Sorry about this—you know how she gets when she gets her hands on a bottle of Rosé. I’ll make sure that she gives you the time and place before then.” 

“Ah, that makes sense. She could never resist a glass of that when she’s off work.” You chuckle as a thought pops into your mind. You ask before you can chicken out.

“Rafayel’s not coming, is he?” 

“Ah, I thought he would’ve told you about that art exhibit? I’m not even blackmailing him to go to this one, surprisingly—he chose to go himself!” 

You deflate, cursing yourself in your mind. Of fucking course he wouldn’t go, you knew he wasn’t going to he already told you about it! ‘Stupid.’ Your cheeks flush from the embarrassment and you quickly breeze past your utter failure with as much nonchalance you can muster. 

“Y-yeah. It slipped my mind, sorry.” Thomas hums, a little unconvincingly, but his attention is clearly drawn away by the loud call of his name just barely out of range from the phone.

“I’ve gotta go, but we’ll see you Saturday?”

“Yeah, have a goodnight you two!” The call disconnects moments after, and you’re left with an oily sort of feeling squirming in your gut. You hate being so sour over your friend and her beautiful relationship, but you can’t help it. Not when you want so badly to have that kind of love yourself. When it feels like your whole life you’ve craved that kind of love. Distant from the world around you, you never connect to people easily—even now, when all you do is interact with people on a daily basis. Your parents feel a bit alienated too, evident by the sparse calls you share all these years later. Estella was the first person in a long time that you formed a strong relationship with, and you were content with that. At least, you were before you met Rafayel.

Now all you can think about is him. 

His voice and the musical cadence of it, gentle and sweet and everything that makes your brain go fuzzy and warm, willing to do whatever he asks if he just keeps talking to you like that. His gorgeous eyes and how they sparkle underneath the sun’s rays like a kaleidoscope of blue and pink, mixing together in an almost hypnotizing way, leaving you breathless and flushed whenever you meet them. The constellation of moles you can spot when he’s close to you on his nose, underneath his eye, on his cheek—even the one you noticed on his chest one afternoon after he decided to let his white button up dangle open scandalously. The thin, long delicate shape of his fingers when he holds a paint brush; the prominent and strong lines of the tendons you can see when he handles his phone, his sketchbook, a glass or anything round or big enough to make them flex. Everything about him drives you crazy, and it takes all of your self control not to throw yourself at him whenever he gives you his full attention. You think you’d feel even worse if you could, but he’s like an addiction to you. As much as it hurts to be on the receiving end of his focus in a purely platonic way, you’ll also take any scrap he gives—happily.

You blow out a sigh.

Pathetic you may be, you still would rather have Rafayel in your life than out of it. Which means that you need to get a handle on that little green monster rolling around in your belly—and quickly since the little get-together is only a handful of days away. You’re a grown ass woman, you can totally handle your emotions and keep them to yourself. Even if you’ll be surrounded by couples, as you know for a fact that Jessica and Lyrica have partners. Randy and Jasper, aka Jazzy, you have no clue about though. Which, if they don’t then you won’t be the only one feeling like an outcast in a sea of couples.

“Yeah, this totally won’t blow up in my face at all.” You mutter to yourself, hurrying up the stairs to your apartment complex. You can only hope that, for once, the universe works in your favor here.

It’s Saturday, and you find yourself stuck between two options laying flat out on your bed.

On the one hand, you could go with this dress you’ve had for forever—your go to dress when going out somewhere nice. It’s a midi halter dress with a low v-neck that shows off a decent amount of your cleavage. Colored a warm coffee brown and with the edges flared out, it’s cute and it works well on your figure. Even with the extra weight you’ve put on, you know it’ll compliment you still. 

However…

Your eyes slide over to the left. The dress sitting there is a new purchase of yours, one you got a while back when you and Estella were out shopping one day. You’ve never worn it before and feeling a little bold, you want to try it out now. It’s a gorgeous shade of deep burgundy and strapless. Midi in length and made out of a comfortable stretchy fabric, it would hug you closely; and with two daring slits up the side, ruffles lining the open edges, it carries a different vibe than your other dress. You have no idea what to choose! With your hair—tied up in twintails and braided—and makeup—a layered glittery plum-red toned eyeshadow look combined with thick eyeliner and a matching plum-red lip—done, all you have to do now is just pick one but you can’t. 

“Ugh, this shouldn’t be this difficult, I mean, it’s only gonna be a few friends—”

A loud ‘ping’ interrupts your rant and a lightbulb goes off over your head. Of course! Why not just get Rafayel to choose for you? He’s an artist—he’s got an eye for these kinds of things. You hurry over to snatch your phone from your vanity. You and Rafayel were just playing phone games at the moment, so you know that he can’t be doing something super important. There’s still a few hours before he has to make it to the exhibit, anyway. And, since you were currently losing this round of pool, you weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to get back to it.

fishie princess ♓

hey you mind helping me real quick ?

how suspicious that you need my help now that you’re losing terribly to me

how very suspicious…(¬‿¬ )

raaaaaaaaf 

stop it im serious

(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)

fine fine

what’s up?

image sent

image sent

what do you think is better on me ?

if i’m say, going out for drinks ?

oooh both are pretty

going out for drinks? hmmm

the first one is fine, but the second one is the prettiest between the two

the burgundy will emphasize the color of your skin, as well as bring out the darkness of your eyes more

depending on how you do your makeup, it’ll do great with attracting all sorts of attention

Your cheeks flush and your tummy goes warm at the thought of his voice saying all of that. Second dress it is, then. Happy and floating high off the indirect praise just given to you, you’re about to type back a quick ‘thank you’ when dots appear on your screen. You pause, and watch as they disappear and reappear again for a few moments before a text comes through.

fishie princess ♓

what’s the occasion though?

i dun remember you mentioning a party or anything

oh thomas didn’t tell you ?

tell me what

uhh

about how he and stella are gonna go out for drinks tonight ?

with some of our old college buddies

she invited me a few days ago

i guess since you were busy tonight they didn’t bother…

and you’re going out in that dress?

yea ?

hm

okay

one sec （＾ｖ＾）

You blink at the screen. That little smile feels…ominous, somehow. But you cannot for the life of you figure out why. Is he upset that he wasn’t invited? Maybe, but, if he was busy, then why would Thomas even bother mentioning it to him? Or maybe he’s mad at you for not telling him until now? Well…honestly, you didn’t forget about it, it just kind of fell to the wayside a bit when the end of the week rush happened and you had to get the last of your clerical work in before going on break.

Before you can wonder more, however, your phone jumps with another sharp ‘ping’.

fishie princess ♓

hey so what’s the address for that place you’re goin to?

and what time

umm okay the address is

[link sent]

and we’re supposed to be meeting there at eight

why ???

well when someone asks you the address and time of an event

one would think they’d be going to that event, right? 

The text sends your gut swooping in a mix of delight and trepidation. What—but the exhibit? Did he just cancel on something he’s been talking about for the past couple days at the drop of a hat?! Even Thomas was surprised by how enthusiastic Rafayel was, so why…?

fishie princess ♓

but your exhibit ???

don’t tell me you just CANCELLED

rafayel you’ve been so excited for it

so why did you just call it off ??

there will be other exhibits like that one trust

that particular lady does all sorts of pop ups around the country

but i haven’t seen you in months, [✦]

you think i won’t show up for that?

i miss you

you have to know that i do

you miss me too, right?

His surprising candor stops your breath for a moment. You…you know that. You know he misses you just as much as you miss him, but to see it so plain to see in black and white, well. What else could you do in the face of that? Sighing, defeated but still so very excited at the prospect of seeing him again in person—of being able to hug him and hear the bright, sharp bark of his laughter in your ears, you find that you’re incapable of being too upset. If you even were to begin with, when it became clear to you that he was planning on joining your group for drinks.

fishie princess ♓

yea of course i miss you

and even tho its hella RUDE of you to cancel so close to the time

im still glad i get to see you tonight

but that means you have to show me what you’re wearing !!

nuh uh

since you wanted to sneak behind my back with thomas and stella

im afraid you’ll have to wait until eight tonight before you see

it wasn’t on purpose

no wait don’t be mean lemme seeeeeee

(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)

nope.

gasp

not the period

noooo it’s not fair

rafaaayeeel !!!

life is never fair

now suffer

≧◠◡◠≦✌

You groan as you toss your phone back onto your vanity, but the wide smile pulling at the corners of your mouth gives away how thrilled you are. Your heart races as you scoop up the dress from your bed, and you give your makeup and hair one last lookover in the mirror before wiggling your way into the dress. You know that, despite being secretly jealous over the various couples surrounding you, Rafayel will make a perfect distraction. He makes you laugh, and even though you’re stupidly and deeply in love with him and it drives you just a little more insane as each day passes, he makes the world just a bit brighter for you regardless.

Even if he is an utter brat.

Nervously, you check yourself out again in the wide glass window in front of you. You decided to go with a darker lip color to better match your dress, as well as apply a liberal amount of dress tape to keep the damn thing from falling off. You’ve got a…bigger bust than some girls, so the tape was necessary since you really couldn’t wear a bra and be cute with a strapless dress. You’re just thankful that the area surrounding the top of the dress was thick enough to hide your nipples and the piercings you’ve got.

‘Never lose a bet with Stella when you’re drunk.’ You think a little wryly, taking in a deep breath before glancing at the time on your phone. 8:05. While it was a few minutes past the agreed upon time, you knew that not everyone showed up yet. Estella and Thomas are already inside, as well as Lyrica and her boyfriend. Jessica and her girlfriend were stuck in traffic, and Randy was on his way too. Jazzy couldn't make it because of a family emergency, so the only person you’re missing is…

Rafayel.

Your entire body lights up; your heart thumping harshly and your face getting so hot that you feel as if you’re about to pass out. Your cold hands come up to cup your cheeks, and you duck your wide-eyed face away from the glass window to stare down at your strappy black heels, the purse dangling from the crook of your arm gently swaying in the corner of your vision. The night air is cool against your burning skin, but even that doesn’t feel like enough to calm you down as Rafayel floods to the front of your mind again.

It was easy, on your way to the cozy but warm atmosphere of the little bar Estella picked out, to focus on touching up your make up and double checking with Thomas on the correct address for the cab you called. Easy to train your attention on climbing up the long stone staircase leading into the city plaza, amazed by the various lights and flashing signs of DownTown Linkon City nightlife you’ve never really experienced before. Easy to take your time in strolling down the clean and bright marble lining the sidewalk, shyly ignoring the few catcalls you got and pulling your cropped black bomber jacket closer to shield your body and purse.

But now, all your mind can think about is what the hell Rafayel plans to wear?!

Look, you’ve seen that man’s wardrobe. It was a bit of a necessity working as his assistant to cart him off to galleries and his exhibits. You had to make him look presentable to his fans and potential clientele! And, once you became closer, he would often show off the new pieces he added to his ever-growing collection of clothes; whether they be designer so expensive that the amount of zeroes made you want to vomit, or a thrift so cheap that it was basically given away for free. No matter the price though, whatever he got was absolutely stunning on him. 

You’re basically royally fucked because whatever the hell he shows up in, you just know that you’re gonna lose it. Especially being that close after all this time away from him. Just imagining him now sends a little thrill up your spine, even as your gut rolls with a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. You blow out a harsh breath, lightly slapping your cheeks before straightening up. Well, best to confront him before you go inside. Then, at least, you can try and get your bearings before you get around other people. That’s if you manage to catch him before the others.

You grimace.

‘Especially before Randy shows up…’ Mean of you to think when he was a close friend of yours during college, but that’s just the problem. He was a super close friend; one you’d been trying your damndest to avoid like the fucking plague. You weren’t mad at Estella for inviting him, it was your fault that she never knew things got physical between you two the last year and a half of college. In fact, you made it a point to hide it from her because you knew she would just give you that look if she found out. Not because Randy was a bad guy, per se. More like…he was a bad match for you.

It was supposed to be a purely casual, no strings attached kinda deal. But Randy was always a little too emotional for that. A little too clingy, but not in an endearing way at all. Clingy in a way that crossed your boundaries in massively inappropriate ways—and coming from a guy who you made abundantly clear to that you were never going to want him in a serious manner. Suffice to say, the whole silent ordeal left a bad taste in your mouth, and you quickly cut contact after graduating. Hopefully, you’re able to slip inside and set yourself up between Estella and Rafayel to block him from ever interacting with you more than he has too.

But it seems the universe doesn’t care to listen to your feeble wish, as not even a full minute later, a voice calls out to you with way too much enthusiasm.

“[✦]!”

Thankfully, your back is facing Randy, so he doesn’t get to see the utter disgust and defeat on your face as you stare off into the distance. You idly wonder just what the fuck you did to piss the universe off so much as you readjust your sagging purse. Signing deeply and finding that inner sense of calm that’s almost nonexistent with all of the anxiety and anticipation rolling away at your nerves, you spin around with your practiced and utterly fake ‘I’m-bullshitting’ smile.

“Randy! It’s been a while.” Your voice is level as you greet him, trying hard not to allow your displeasure to show when the taller man shoots you a smile and opens his arms wide for a hug. Gritting your teeth you politely return his hug. His arms snap around you and he gives you a hearty squeeze that makes you want to instantly recoil out of his embrace.

“It sure has! And you look beautiful dressed up like that, by the way.” You gently pat his arm, but when he still doesn’t break away, you take a step back and get as far as you politely can.

“Thanks, you look great too.” And while Randy isn’t an unattractive guy—six feet even with a large build and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, bright eyes and an even brighter smile—he’s just not your type. He never has been and he never will be. If only he could understand that fact, because even now after all these years later, his gaze still rakes over you with a kindling heat brewing in his cobalt blue irises. Your smile threatens to fall when he bridges that gap between you two, and it takes all of your willpower not to move back when his hand comes up to lightly rest on the small of your back.

“ I’m assuming Stella and her man are already starting without us. Jessica and Cindy should be here soon enough, too. Why don’t we head inside, then, instead of standing out in the cold?” 

‘There’s barely a breeze right now.’ You can’t help but think snarkily. With the summer heat at an all time high, the cooler nights are a refreshing taste to your palette. That, and you want to wait for Rafayel to show before you head inside. Honestly, you kind of want to see the look on Thomas’s face when he realizes Rafayel ditched another gallery date to attend one of his gatherings. 

“Actually—”

“Before you do that—,” You breath hitches, and you eagerly turn towards that wonderfully familiar voice, “She’s gotta give me something first. Isn’t that right, cutie?” 

“Rafayel!” The visible excitement in your voice surprises Randy, and he recoils away from you when the man—Rafayel—glances at him with so much venom that it feels as if he’s been burned from the barely there contact. You, of course, couldn't care less what Randy’s up to, as a bright smile stretches your lips wide enough to reveal your teeth.

Rafayel stands there, just a few paces away, with that smug grin of his that never fails to send your heart racing. The little nickname he tacks on just makes the organ inside of your chest beat even faster. You take in his outfit as your body moves instinctively towards him in a totally silly looking half-shuffle, half-run in your heels, gripping onto your purse for dear life in order not to drop it.

A faded crimson colors the shiny and smooth silk shirt draped over his chest, intricate designs in the shape of what looks to be branches spreading across in wide patterns. Delicate and faintly glimmering jewelry in the shape of ruby red leaves dangle over the wings of his shoulder, strings of delicate gold, pearl and onyx hanging down the sway gently in the breeze. The shirt is tucked into a pair of brown-tan ombre slacks, a wide sash and a belt buckle held snugly against the sinfully tight shape of his waist. Paired with the long strip of black fabric tied around his neck like a choker, the indecent gape of his top and the artfully tousled spikes of his mullet, he looks like he’d be more suited going out to a nightclub rather than a simple bar.

He’s absolutely gorgeous.

You can admit that you do fully stumble in the face of his beauty, and you see that smug grin grow wider when you just barely catch yourself. Embarrassment churns a hearty rhythm within your belly once you finally get within range of him, and though you kind of want to bury yourself in a hole for the rest of your life, you also don’t hesitate to give him an enthusiastic hug. Your chin lightly rests on his chest as your arms wrap around his lower back, and you both stagger a bit from the force of your unexpectedly weak knees.

You have actually worn heels before—it’s just hard to find your footing when Rafayel looks criminally and unfairly pretty in that little outfit of his.

“Wo-ah, take it easy. You know I’m fragile goods. Gotta be gentle there, cutie.” His words ride out on a murmured laugh, the long, wide palms of his hands curling around your shoulders to steady you. The golden lights of the streetlamps scattered about cast a warm glow over his broad shoulders and the planes of his handsome face. The color of his eyes are slightly darker than normal, the length of his lashes long and soft looking as he ducks his head a little to meet your stare directly with a teasing quirk to his brow. You watch mutely as his eyes flick over your face, lingering on the soft line of your mouth before making eye contact again. 

“Sorry–I just…” You bite the inside of your lip, feeling the familiar burn in the corners of your eyes as it finally sets in that he’s here in front of you. The playful tilt to his expression softens, the smile on his face easing into a gentle, fond line.

“You missed me that much, hm?” You nod, blinking rapidly to try and save your makeup. It’s difficult, though, when the tears you push back try even harder to fall. Rafayel chuckles softly seeing your struggle, but with one pleading look, he agrees to help.

“Alright, lemme get it.” From seemingly out of nowhere, Rafayel deftly pulls out a faintly tinted pink handkerchief. You snort at his dramatics, but dutifully allow him to cup your chin and hold you still while he delicately dabs at the corners of your eyes. You’re trying not to stare too hard at him, but it’s useless to deny that you aren’t doing just that. Being this close, everything about him that captivates you is now overwhelming all of your senses. 

The scent of his cologne that surrounds you in an invisible shroud, reminding you of warm sand, the salty brine of the sea and cool moonlit nights. The delicate hold of his fingers as they gently grip your chin, their blazing heat sinking beneath your skin and leaving what feels like an invisible mark. The beautiful sight of him as he’s haloed by the twinkling lights behind him, eyes focused on the sensitive area of your eyes as he wipes the last of your emotional tears. The sound of that warm, musical cadence that’s grown a tad bit lower in your close proximity, softly poking fun at your silly tears. You let him get away with teasing you, however. If only because it makes the little twinkle within his eyes shine brighter than the lights of the city combined. 

“Aaaand there we go. All better now.” He shoots you a wink and does another complicated trick with his fingers, the handkerchief disappearing faster than you can track. His other hand still lingers on your shoulder, even after he straightens up to his full height and ushers you towards the bar doors.

“Show off.” You giggle and lightly push his face away, sniffling a little before looking down and adjusting your coat. He pouts, conveniently placing himself in your direct line of sight once you turn your face up again.

“Is this the thanks I get for saving your makeup from getting all runny? How cruel.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away the humor you feel. You give in, though, not even a moment later, and you play along.

“My apologies, my wonderful, amazing and generous knight in shining armor. Thank you so much for saving me from a fate worse than death; runny makeup.” The sarcasm within your words is heavy enough for an idiot to catch, but Rafayel ignores the bite and beams at you. 

“You’re welcome, my fair lady. But my services aren’t cheap.” He leans closer to you, and your breath halts to a complete stop when you feel the warmth of his breath puff against your cheek.

“So much for being a knight, charging an innocent maiden like this.” You retort weakly, face growing hotter when Rafayel smirks.

“Lunch, tomorrow afternoon. At whatever place I pick. Your treat, of course, cutie.” You barely even hear the words as they echo in your ears, too entranced by the raspy, intimate tone of his voice as he tilts his head slightly. His eyes carry that same intensity you see from time to time, too many fragments of different emotions buried within for you to parse through. You nod, of course. Anything he asks of you, you’ll give without question—no matter what it is.

“Great.” He suddenly perks up, eyes catching on the side of your head. The hand on your shoulder slides up to lightly tug at one of your braids, trailing the edge of his knuckle down the middle with a thoughtful hum. His fingers brush against the side of your neck by accident, and despite trying, you can’t stop the full body shiver that runs up your spine from the feeling of his fingers against your skin. Again, it’s like some sort of invisible mark stains the skin he touched; the spot somehow growing more sensitive as a gentle breeze blows across it.

“S’cute, by the way. You should do more braided styles like this.”

You blush furiously, averting your eyes as you nod your head once again. It’s like your ability to speak suddenly shriveled up and died, and you’re struck dumb in the face of his overt skinship. Rafayel had been a little closer to you then most. Tugging at your clothes or even snatching things out of your hands wasn’t out of the ordinary. But nicknames? Being this close to your face? Touching you purposefully careless? It’s all so fucking confusing to your poor little overloaded brain.

So in you two go; Rafayel humming quietly to himself, arm now slung over your shoulder as he leads you deeper into the bar while you absently lean into his side, a dazed and flushed look on your face as one of your hands grips the fabric of his shirt.

You don’t notice, in your frazzled state, the chilling glare he shoots over his shoulder at the man rooted to the ground outside. 

You also don’t realize the kind of picture you two made in front of poor Randy, who’s suddenly regretting his life choices when faced with that dark, almost inhumanly possessive gleam in that terrifying man’s eyes.

Rafayel grips the glass in his hand tightly, fighting the urge to lean down and inhale that intoxicatingly sweet scent emanating from you. The week before the tides switch directions is always a test of self-restraint; flashes of hunger tainting his thoughts, urging him to indulge in his deepest desires. His body burns with a fever that can only be soothed by the touch of his person…and he’s finally found you, after all these lifetimes, you’re here in front of him. It’s an exquisite kind of torture, being so close yet so far. Everything about you naturally draws him in.

The smell of you beneath the artificial perfumes and soaps you use—rose hips, spring water and sunlight. The soft give of your stomach, hips and thighs that show beneath the skin tight dress you’re wearing. Those wide, dark eyes that twinkle with humor and a tender affection you think he doesn’t see when you stare at him. The slim coolness of your finger; the bright sound of your laughter; the way your gummy smile curves your eyes into crescents—all of you drives him to near madness every time you interact, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Would suffer throughout it all if only he can have you that much closer to him, how you are now.

Leaning against him and pressed shoulder to shoulder, your head rests on his bicep as you scroll through your phone. You two were debating on lunch options for tomorrow, but he’d gotten lost in the soft cadence of your voice, eyes glued to your lips as one of your hands idly played with the long strip of his choker. You weren’t even doing it consciously, but every so often you’d lightly tug at it to get his attention. As if he wasn’t already hanging onto every word that fell past your painted lips. It was slowly chipping away at the little strength he had left, and he was so close to just finally pulling you away to a dark corner when someone from the group—Isaiah, he thinks—pulled him into the wider conversation. Rafayel eagerly threw himself into it, doing anything he could possibly do to avoid the thoughts flying through his mind, each of them more depraved than the last.

But you still play with his choker and occasionally tug it, so despite his best efforts, his thoughts always stray back to you. His fault alone, he knows, but it doesn’t make any of it easy to control when you look like that.

When he saw the kind of dress you were planning to wear, he knew that he couldn’t just leave you to go out like that alone. Nevermind that you were going out with Estella and Thomas. It didn’t matter that the people you were hanging out with were old college buddies. You were still going outside to a bar. You were going to be drinking, dressed up all fancy and pretty. Guys would be approaching you nonstop, no matter if you were surrounded by your friends or not. And like hell he was gonna let some random, unworthy man see you like that when he hasn’t even gotten the chance yet.

‘Though, one managed to slip through the cracks anyway.’ Rafayel glances at the tall man sitting on the other side of the booth. Randy’s too busy arguing with Lyrica to notice his stare at first, but maybe the idiot has some kinda sixth sense, because he casually flicks his eyes around the table. When they land on Rafayel, he does a slight double take and he flinches a bit, before directing his gaze back to Lyrica. Albeit, a little paler than he was before.

He snickers to himself at the flash of fear on the man’s face. Good, he should know better than to touch someone when they clearly don’t want it. Should know better than to lay hands on who doesn’t belong to him.

It had been a rather infuriating sight, coming across you two the way he did. Randy, towering over you with clear lust in his eyes, hand audaciously pressed to your back as he tried to guide you into the bar. You with that uncomfortable smile on your face, your eyes just barely hiding the exasperation and disgust at him touching you. It was only the familiarity between you two that saved Randy from losing that hand. But only just barely. Clearly, the man got the message, because even now he doesn’t so much as look in your direction anymore.

The smirk that curls his lips forms instinctively, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What devious plans are you coming up with to look like that, huh?”

Your cheek squishes against his forearm, lips forming a slight pout as you lower your phone and stare at him, half-amused and half-suspicious. It’s a dangerously cute expression on your pretty face, and he has the sudden urge to lean over and kiss that tempting pout away. He’s halfway to doing it before he even realizes, the shadow of his torso falling over you startling him out of his daze. 

You only blink up at him with dark, wide glossy eyes, puzzled. Entirely too trusting and too open; so different than how he’s used to seeing you in person. Cold and professional with a perfect smile that conveys nothing but an empty politeness, it had been a challenge to get to you to crack that infallible expression of yours. It took a week of him burdening you with all sorts of pointless tasks, hoping that annoying you would be the way to go, before you did. And not because you were angry—no, it happened because he made some snide comment about the old lady at the supermarket who cut him in line sometime prior to you two meeting. He doesn’t even remember exactly what he said, but whatever he did say was mean and rude and it made you laugh.

A real laugh too; a deep, guttural hiccup that sounded like absolute perfection to his ears. Mouth opened in a wide smile, eyes scrunched into crescents as the sunlight from his windows streamed in. You looked like something holy, in that light. The sheer white curtains billowing around your figure casting you in dappled shadows, the scent of the sea breeze rich in the air. He had known you were special when he saw you—but this? This was something far, far beyond that.

And now here he is; helplessly drawn to your side, eagerly craving whatever scrap of attention you can afford to give him. Begging, demanding more that you so easily give to him. Even when it meant badgering you constantly with messages, surprising you with phone calls, crashing intimate parties with your friends. Whatever he asks you willingly let him have. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. A game with the vast eldritch beast that lurks in the abyss of his soul. Old as the seas and the moon and stars; always searching, always moving, always hungry. 

Always.

Rafayel forces out a normal sounding laugh, setting down his drink and turning his body to give you his full attention. He makes sure to keep you exactly where you are though, sliding his arm around until it cushions the delicate curve of your neck, leaving his hand to grip the back of the booth. The dimmed lights do a good job of blurring out the more finite details of your expressions, but his eyes are sharp, and they notice the flush darkening your cheeks. The rapid stutter of your chest and the nervous way you flick your eyes back down to your phone. The pout morphs into a shy little smile as you peek up at him from underneath your eyelashes, the ends of your nails clicking against the case of your phone.

You’re so fucking beautiful.

His fingers twitch with the need for a pencil. He wants to sketch that look on your face, and he thinks pencil is one of the better mediums to fully grasp the finer details of your expressions. The little dimples that form above your lips when you purse them. The faint freckles he can see scattered across the bridge of your nose. He wants to sit in his studio for hours just sketching you; could probably do it from memory alone if given the chance. Honestly, though, he would prefer to have you there in front of him. You’d do it, too. He knows you would. Even if he asked in the brattiest, most roundabout way, you would agree without hesitation. The thought sends a pulse of heat through his body, and he has to swallow back the hiss that threatens to fall past his lips.

Those damn flashes.

“So, you gonna answer me or not?”

Rafayel quirks a brow, pretending to think on the question as he glances away from you. Just—he needs a moment to calm down. To get a handle on the want quickly filling him with indecent thoughts. Thoughts of you spread out in his studio on his couch, in the bath, on his bed. Bare and open. Trusting him to handle you, take care of you the way he knows he can. Satisfy that empty feeling in your chest that throbs within his own. It’d be so easy too. To just, ask you to come over. To pull you into his arms and rest his hands against your cheeks. To tilt your head back and finally sink his teeth into your neck—

“I think I’m gonna pass on that. Did you find where you’re taking me tomorrow?” He swings his eyes back to focus on you, smiling like he isn’t thinking of devouring you, in every sense of the word.

You huff out a tiny breath, but you open your darkened phone screen and show him a few places you think are good. Your voice goes a little quiet when you realize how intensely he’s staring at you, that blush getting brighter when he casually leans down to look at your phone. It would’ve been easy for him to just snatch the phone from your hand, but he’s weak. Any excuse to get closer to you is a valid one.

He stares hard at your phone screen, biting back a groan when he gets another whiff of your scent. Your little hot puffs of breath at his cheek and the slight tremble of your hands as you take in his proximity almost do him in, but he refrains. Barely.

“So?” The wine riding on the scent of your breath is sweet and slightly tangy; a Moscato Sangria, if he’s remembering correctly.

“Hmm, okay tell you what, cutie.” Rafayel grins when he audibly hears the little stutter of your heartbeat. This close, he’s sure that he could see your pulse through the thin skin of your throat, but if he continues down that trail of thought, he’ll really snap. So, once again, he calls on what little self-restraint he has.

“I’ll be gracious enough and let you choose where we go. But, if the food sucks then I’m gonna tease you about it forever, deal?” He tilts his head and glances at you from the corner of his eye. You sigh, an exasperated yet fond look in your eyes as you poke his cheek with your finger.

“Fine, fine. Gosh, you’re such a menace, I swear.” He carefully doesn’t breathe as you continue to jokingly poke at his face. He wants to lean into your touch, and he begins to when his senses snap back to him. Slowly but still as natural as anything, he straightens up, using his other hand to playfully swat yours away. He waits until your attention shifts away from him, and even though his knee-jerk reaction is to force it back, instead he uses this time to try and relax. The warmth of your touch still lingers against his skin like a brand, and it makes the already pounding bass of his heart beat that much faster.

Thankfully, since the room is dark, no one can really see the blush rushing across his nose and ears. And if they do, well, then it’s because of his drink rather than his pretty little assistant pressed close to him.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were worried about it being too much for you…” Estella asks for the third time, looking at you through the bathroom mirror. She completely ignores the girl half-passed out in the sink, as well as the other two girls making out against the bathroom stall behind you. There’s another in a closed stall, vomiting her guts out by the sound of it. Even with the faint thump from the powerful base outside, it still echoes out wetly and you grimace. Estella doesn’t even blink, watching for your response with worried eyes. You shoot her a reassuring smile, fighting back an incredulous snort as Estella absently makes sure the faucet is off for the girl in the sink. 

The evening at the bar you were at passed by within the blink of an eye, and before you realized, your three long hour reservation ended. By that time, you were pleasantly tipsy and not quite ready to go back home. Randy, Lyrica and her boyfriend Isaiah had all called it quits, but the rest of you still wanted to be outside and enjoy the summer night. Even Rafayel seemed game, despite the man being as much of a recluse as you, so you all agreed to go to a nearby nightclub to keep the party going a bit. ‘I do wonder why Randy didn’t join though. It’s usually his kind of scene.’ You brush it off once Estella gives you a look and you rush to answer it.

“I think I can handle just a little bit of club action. It’s been years since everyone’s been together, why not, right?”

She raises a skeptical brow.

“And it totally has nothing to do with the six foot tall hottie of a painter currently bothering Thomas outside, hm?” 

You ignore her shit-eating grin and fiddle with your bangs, shying away from her fingers when they reach out to lightly poke your side.

“Oooh, you’ve got it bad, dontcha girl?”

“You’ve got no fucking idea.” You mumble underneath your breath, flushing when she lets out an excited squeal that shocks the girl in the sink awake and splits apart the couple behind you. Quickly, before a fight can break out because one half of the couple looks drunk enough to try your friend, you usher Estella out of the bathroom and back into the club.

It’s packed, of course. A Saturday night in DownTown Linkon means that any and all nightclubs are full. It’s a little suffocating, for you, as Estella grips your wrist and yanks you through the throng of girls waiting outside the bathroom doors in various states of drunkenness. You two have to cut through the side of the main dance floor to get back to the others, and while it definitely is less busy than being directly in the middle, it still is a lot for you to handle regardless.

Strobes of green, pink and white flare out from the cluster of rotating lights scattered along the rafters above you, dancing across the crowd in hypnotizing patterns that make you dizzy. Smoke curls in the air, drifting like clouds across the night sky as they cover some of the overhead bundles of lights. Beams refract at even stranger angles as the smoke passes, the lights filling your eyes with after images of color as the bass to the current song drops. The fast-paced ‘thump-thump-thump’ switches over into something slower. A deeper, sensual rhythm that has the bodies surrounding you packing even tighter together. 

Stray hands and fingers glide over you as she pulls you forward, and you have to close your eyes to keep your mind from getting lost in the kaleidoscope of colors filling your vision. The smell of cigarettes and vape smoke becomes even stronger once you do, and your eyes pop open against your will when a hand boldly grabs your ass before Estella hauls you even further. Being tipsy yourself—drinking about two cups of wine and having a sip or two of Rafayel’s fruity margarita—you feel a little sick being thrown around like a fucking pizza. Just as you’re about to tell Estella to slow the hell down, you’re momentarily blinded by a stray strobe light to your eyes. Because of that, you don’t see the person in front of you when Estella suddenly lets go of your hand.

“Baby! C’mon, Jessica and her girl are already on the floor and we’ve gotta show ‘em how it's done.”

“Must we.” You barely hear the dry edge to Thomas’s words before you fall face first into someone’s chest. You swear, one day, you’re gonna toss Estella around like that in a sea of gross bodies and see how she fucking likes it. Running into random people at a club is not something you find entertaining in the slightest.

“Oh–shit, I’m sorry.” You blink away the spots from your vision, looking up to apologize to the stranger, except it’s someone a lot more familiar and a lot more welcome.

“You’ve got a bad habit of running into me, cutie.” Rafayel leans down real close in order for you to hear him properly, his lips just barely touching the shell of your ear as his hands fall on your body to steady you; one on your bare shoulder, the other falling to your waist. Jessica was whining about being cold earlier, so you had offered your jacket out of concern. Now…now you don’t know if you regret it or not. Not when the heat seeping into your skin is making your already fuzzy mind all the more hazy. You shiver, blinking as a line of neon green flares over Rafayel, momentarily lighting your way in the dark, crowded room.

Your face is level with his neck, and here, that sea-breeze-hot-sand-moonlight blend of his scent is stronger. You can physically feel the way your body automatically relaxes as you breathe him in deeply, your own hands coming up to rest on the criminally smooth silk of his shirt.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be in my way all the time.” You mumble out, swallowing back a groan when you can feel the muscles beneath his shirt twitch as the sudden heat of your breath hits his ear. Another flash of light slants over him, and you notice that his ears are turning a dark shade of pink. Your stomach swoops at the realization, and you have the sudden urge to look at his face; to see if that blush goes any further. You go to pull back, to try and get a glimpse of his expression, but you’re stopped by his hands pulling you in closer; until your bodies are flush against each other.

 “And where do you think you’re going, hm?” The low rasp of his voice strikes you like a lightning bolt, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to swallow back the sound you almost let out because of it. It takes you a few tries of opening and closing your mouth, but eventually you get out the words.

“T-to maybe sit down..? Or…” You pause, your whole head dizzy from the mixture of alcohol and desperate want lighting you up inside like a firecracker. 

“Or..?” He drawls out, and maybe it's the alcohol talking, but you swear you feel his teeth graze your ear slightly. You shake within the hold he’s got on you, and you feel the low rumble of his laugh through the vibrations racing through your hands before it barks out close to your ear.

“Oh, c’mon, beautiful. You can tell me what you want, right?” Your hands curl up where they rest on his chest, and you press your forehead into his neck to try and muffle the loud moan that nickname causes you to let out, thighs unconsciously squeezing to try and offer yourself a bit of friction to your suddenly achy clit. God, you feel as if you’re gonna shake out of your skin if he keeps talking to you like that. The hand on your shoulder slides down to join its twin on your waist, and you literally can’t keep the sounds from exiting your mouth even if you tried. A trail of fire follows the path of his hand, and it slowly sinks past the stretchy fabric of your dress to meet the sensitive, twitching center of your cunt. Rafayel trembles underneath your hold slightly, the grip around your waist getting tighter.

“Tell me.” It’s a surprise to hear his words, half-demand, half-plea as he breathes hotly into your ear. You blink away the stray amount of tears forming at the corners of your eyes. It honestly has been years since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, so maybe that’s why you feel this sensitive? Who knows, because you can certainly say that you don’t—not when your entire body feels like its housing magma within your veins.

But Rafayel needs something from you, yeah?

“...Do you? Wanna go dance with me?” You gasp out, your loud sound of surprise being drowned out by the heavy beat as Rafayel bodily picks you up. His hands rest on the soft pudge of your waist, the tip of his nose finding the crook of your neck as he blindly pushes his way through the crowd. You cling onto his back with your nails, and you feel the vibrations of his groan as they cut a little deeper than you intended in your shock.

You open your mouth to apologize maybe? But your entire focus falls onto the way Rafayel changes his grip from your waist to your thighs, sliding in between the slits on either side of your body. Your eyes roll slightly when that searing heat gets even closer to where you really want it, mouth falling open when he presses light, barely there kisses along the side of your neck. You dig your nails into his back again, making these whiny, soft little noises into the side of his throat near his ear. You can’t help it—it’s all just too much for you. Every time he touches you like this, skin on skin, it feels like he’s igniting all of these little embers inside of you. Like he’s trying to fan them into a full blown blaze. Your mind is in a haze of sensation, the lights around you pulling you deeper into that floaty, barely there feeling.

You’re suddenly being let down, and you make an upset noise, keeping your arms wrapped around Rafayel’s neck as he sets your feet back on the ground. Your hold forces his forehead to knock against yours, and through your slightly blurry vision, you can spot the darker tint to his cheeks, the slack part to his mouth, the long length of his lashes as his lids fall to half mast. His hands travel back up to the low dip of your waist, gripping so tightly to the fabric of your dress that it slightly bunches. He exhales in and out, and your breaths mingle as you stare helplessly into his eyes.

Fuck, those eyes of his.

Normally, they’re so bright they almost blind you; reminding you of sunsets on the beach or the polychromatic colors found in bubbles of seafoam. Underneath the darkness of the club, though, they’re a deep and unfathomable black. Flat and without an eyeshine to them, it’s like looking into the ocean in the dead of night. Still waters hiding the dangers underneath an empty void. A shark smelling blood in the water. A hungry predator lying in wait.

Those predator eyes of his combined with the calmness of his expression is a terrifying mix. You know you should be afraid. It’s the normal reaction—the correct reaction in the face of the all consuming hunger you can see reflected in his eyes. But all that look makes you feel excitement so potent and vast that it makes you gush heavily into the cotton of your panties.

God, there’s something fucking wrong with you.

His parted lips suddenly split into a wide, off kilter smile. You think you see a flash of serrated teeth before he ducks his head and presses his lips against your jugular. Your breath stops in your chest as your body easily bends to his whims, your back arching to accommodate the new position he fixes himself in. You’re utterly frozen as he drags his mouth over the sensitive, delicate skin of your throat; breath hot and raising goosebumps across your skin.

“You said you wanted to dance.” The dark murmur makes your thighs twitch, and you start to breathe again when he readjusts your dress. He spins you around without another word, plastering himself against your back. His hands fall to your hips, the curve of your ass settling in the cradle of his pelvis as he leans his head against yours. His mouth levels with your ear again.

“So let’s dance, yeah, cutie?”

An order more than a plea; clearly, he wasn’t asking you. 

That deep, sensual rhythm still plays around you. Slow and reverberating through your entire body, you can do nothing but obey. So you move; hesitantly, nervously, until the beat settles within your bones. Side to side, back and forth, rotate your hips and repeat until it becomes second nature to you. Until the hypnotic sound becomes as easy as breathing. Time slows to a crawl as you sway to the steady ‘boom-boom-boom’, breath hitching when you feel Rafayel join in on the motion.

Pressed so close together, you can feel everything. The heaving of his muscled chest, the sweat from his hair dripping down the slope of your neck, the strong grip of his hands holding onto your hips, the bulge in his slacks insistently poking at the round flesh of your ass. You’re trembling, you discover, when he starts to move against you. Shaking with so much pent up need that it feels like you’re going to explode from the pressure of it all.

Your hands lay against his, and though his moves don’t falter, his breath does catch. You can’t see him from the angle you’re facing—all you can see is an ocean of shadows, all flickering eerily in and out of focus with the strobe lights and smoke. Breathing heavily, you slowly inch his hands down to the wide slits of your dress. That hitching becomes a loud groan, desperate and frenzied all at once. It makes your legs quake, but you don’t slow your hands until you can feel every inch of his palms on your bare flesh. His fingers immediately sink into the plush fat, his hips roughly rolling forward. Your cunt clenches at the feeling, a pathetic mewl that’s eaten up by the pounding bass falling from your panting mouth.

Somehow, he hears it anyway.

He hisses something in a deep and foreign language you’ve never heard before in your ear. It sends a jolt through you listening to that guttural, inhuman sound. Despite that, however, the pace from before continues. Deliberate and unhurried. It makes you want to scream; you want more. Want to feel him against you without the layers. Want to feel that steady grind so deep inside of you that you’ll feel it for days after. 

You whine again at the thought, hands coming up to cover your mouth. For lack of anything better to do with them, really. Any of the noises you make are swallowed up by the surging crowd and music. You choke out another moan when his fingers slightly knead the supple flesh of your thighs, his harsh pants breathed out against you. Over and over and over again. Dragging his thick, clothed cock against your ass. Gripping your bare skin with his strong, nimble fingers. Breathing heavily into the shell of your ear, little murmurs of compliments and that strange language echoing deep within your mind.

Fog and lights draw you deeper into that haze clouding up your brain, your eyes glazing over as you get lost in the darkness of the club. You hardly even notice when you reach your peak, the only indicator being the way you fall limp in his grasp; eyes rolling to the back of your head, lips parting in a silent scream.

You quickly sink into unconsciousness after that. The last thing you feel is Rafayel shuddering against you, the echo of his low groan following you into your dreams.

fishie princess ♓

hey so about those lunch plans…

it looks like i can’t go

sorry

You immediately call him moments later, not even hesitating when you see that string of texts after you wake up. Fear and shame clog your throat, and you’re about two seconds away from breaking down if what happened last night just ruined your friendship with Rafayel.

It felt almost like a dream, remembering the end to your night out. And you would have thought it was, if you hadn’t woken up back in your apartment still dressed from the night before. A blanket had been tucked around you, and your makeup was wiped off. Barefoot but clothed in your exact same outfit—hair included. You were still reeling from that revelation of truth, because you were tipsy at most and not drunk, so you basically remembered everything before you came so hard that you passed the fuck out. Which makes the dread swirling around your belly all the more potent as you anxiously wait for Rafayel to pick up.

The call rings three times before it connects.

You open your mouth, but your mind completely blanks on what you can possibly say. You blink, and a few tears drip down your cheeks, and you have to bite down on your lip hard to stop the sob from coming out. 

“...[✦]?”

You pause when you hear his voice. Low and raspy. Did he just wake up? Is that why he took so long to answer? It hadn’t been very long at all since he sent the texts, so maybe. You grip your phone tightly, fingers aching from the strain. You know you’ve got to say something, but it’s just so hard when it feels like your entire world is crashing down around your ears. Does he regret it? Is that why he doesn’t want to see you?

Just the thought jabs into your heart like a blade, and it's the threat of not knowing that drives you to finally speak.

“Are…are we okay? Are—did you cancel on me because of last night…?” Barely louder than a whisper, your voice rings out in the silence of your apartment like a gunshot. Saying it out loud makes it real to you, and more tears fall from your eyes as you squeeze them shut. There’s a shaky note to your voice that you’re sure gives you away, and you wish you had a semblance of a poker face when it comes to Rafayel. It’s embarrassing how easily you break at the thought of him distancing himself from you after last night. But there was something there, between you two yesterday. A palpable tension lurking behind every look given. Every word spoken. Every touch you two shared.

You thought so, at least. But if he really thinks that moment at the club was a mistake…you think it would shatter you. No, you know for a fact it would. The longer he doesn’t speak, the more the pain in your chest spreads until you're folded over, forehead touching your knees as you try and keep your tears quiet. Fuck, did you just destroy this? Did you really just throw away the chance at having him in your life because you were too weak to deny that greedy little thing buried deep inside of you?

“Rafayel…?” You croak out, needing him to say something already.

“Are you…crying?” 

“No.” Your lie isn’t even convincing enough to fool a baby. It’s so fucking obvious that you’re crying, you feel ashamed for even lying about it. What hurts you more is the pained sound Rafayel lets out after.

“Why–?” But you can’t let him finish. You refuse to think about anything else until he answers you.

“Do you regret it? What happened between us last night.”

“...” You can hear the sound of him breathing heavily on the other end, and despite the pain you feel, you also can’t help but get a bit worried. He doesn't sound okay, panting that hard.

“..of course I don’t. I could never. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to–urk!” His ragged voice cuts out with a grunt, and you jump when something crashes to the ground in the background. 

“Rafayel?! Are you alright?”

“Yeah…just fell out of my bed.” He wheezes and you sigh with relief. Then, the weight of his words hits you, and your face burns hot. Does that mean he wanted last night too? That…that it wasn’t a mistake? Silence falls again and neither of you seem willing to break the awkward stalemate. You chew on your lip, tugging on one of your messy braids as you wait for Rafayel to speak up first. He was the last one talking after all…

“I’m not cancelling on you because of last night. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

You flop onto your back with a low sigh, using one of your hands to wipe away your tears. Relief replaces the pain, and you nod your head even though he can’t see it.

“No, no you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, just—you gotta know how scary it is to wake up with that sorta text after…” You trail off with a strangled whine, and the last of your anxiety is wiped away by the tired, yet bright laugh that rumbles in your ear.

“You’re right. I’m sorry about that, beautiful. Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“D-don’t worry about it, it’s fine! But, why are you quitting on me? Did something come up?” You hear the sounds of shuffling come from the other end of the phone, and you frown when you hear a distant groan. Did he hurt himself falling?

“...I’m a little…under the weather. I woke up and didn’t feel so good, and I didn’t want to go eat when I felt like this, sooo…”

Well. Now you feel like a moron. He’s fucking sick, why the hell would he want to go outside when he’s feeling like shit? And it wasn’t like he said he didn’t want to see you—just that he couldn’t go. ‘Wow, that’s gotta be a new low.’ You press your palm to your face hard. You want to scream with how embarrassed you feel. But your emotional freakout can wait for a later time. Rafayel is sick, maybe he caught something from last night, or maybe it was from days prior. Whatever he’s got, it’s keeping him locked inside of his home.

Only one thing to do, then.

“Hmm, yeah that makes sense. Have you taken anything for it? Or have you just been rolling around in your bed whining at the pain?” 

“How mean!” 

“So that’s a yes then. Alright, well give me a few hours and let me put together a bag. If you’re sick, I can take care of you until you’re better. I’m off work for the next two weeks, so I should be able to—”

“No you don’t! I’m not risking you getting the ick too. I’ll have some stuff delivered, so you don’t need to come all the way over.”

You pause. Rafayel…doesn’t want you to take care of him like this? When every other time he’s damn near demanded you baby him until he heals up?

“You…don’t want to see me…?” Doubt begins to creep back in, but before its roots can fully take hold, Rafayel stops them.

“I always wanna see you, cutie. Never doubt me on that.” Your tense shoulders relax when you hear the sincerity and conviction in his voice. Then why…?

“Is it that bad?”

He sighs.

“It definitely feels a lot different than just a common cold. I don’t wanna accidentally give it to you, so I’ll heal up on my own this time.” The exhaustion in his tone makes your heart ache.

“Are you sure? You know I wouldn’t mind helping out if you need me to, Rafayel.” He groans through the phone, and the worry in your chest ratchets up in its intensity. You’re already standing and about to put on your shoes before his voice stops your movements.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll just have to go out when I get better, that’s all. I’ll be good as new in a few days, trust me, alright?” The strained, heavy breathing dictates otherwise, but you allow him his privacy. He’s asking you to give him some time to heal, so that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“...Fine. But I’m going to at least call you to check up on you! If you don’t answer, I’m marching right over and helping you out. And I mean it, Rafayel. You’ve got me worried, sounding that pitiful.” You try to inject a bit of humor to lighten up the mood, but you think the concern in your voice just cancels it out. Rafayel gives you a weak little chuckle.

“I’m sick right now and you attack me like this? Striking a man while he’s down is a low blow, you know.”

“Well then get better so it’ll be a more even match.”

He laughs again, this time with a little more energy.

“Yes ma’am. Now shoo and lemme rest up some more.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just, let me know if you need anything, okay, Rafayel?

“You got it, cutie.” 

“You promise?” Maybe you’re being too pushy, but you can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he’s hiding something else from you. He’s still sick, and you believe him when he says that he wasn’t regretting last night. But still…something about his tone doesn’t feel like the whole truth of the matter. It bugs you that he isn’t telling you. Itches at your skin that you aren’t able to make him feel better—that he’s not allowing you to make him feel better. So you need to hear him say that he’ll come to you when he’s ready. If you don’t, you might just hop on a train to Mo Art Studio and give your help to him whether he wants it or not.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll let you know when I need you.” You shiver at the strange tone you hear at the end of his words, but before you can even begin to ask about it, his voice chimes in with a much lighter tone.

“Bye, bye, cutie. We’ll talk later, m’kay?”

“...Bye Rafayel.”

One click and the call disconnects.

Days pass slowly for you.

True to your word, you call Rafayel everyday for a checkup. Even if you two still text when he’s not resting, even if you’re texting before the appointed time for the call. You never fail to hit that little phone button. And he never fails to pick up; that low rasp of his meeting your ears and soothing the worry somewhat.

You breathe a lot easier whenever you get to hear him speak. It feels as if you’re actively doing something instead of just sitting around and waiting for him to get better. However, you do feel a little bad at making him talk with a sore throat. At least, you think he has a sore throat. That’s really the only explanation for the lower register he now uses. It would even explain the strange sounds that interrupt him when he speaks sometimes. Noises akin to a bastardized mix of a dog’s growl and a dolphin’s clicking. It’s usually cleared away when he coughs, and even though it worries the absolute fuck out of you, he always waves them away with a laugh that’s beginning to sound a lot more forced as time flies by.

Because those strange noises never go away. If anything, they get more frequent, and as much as he tries to downplay it, you know for a fact that sounding like some kind of fucking scary sea monster isn’t normal.

It doesn’t help that you also just plain miss him.

Yes, you two talk on the phone and text and even share a few video calls if he feels up to it. But it isn’t enough for you anymore. You want to physically be around him now. That one night out has spoiled you rotten and you can’t stand that you aren’t within his personal bubble anymore. He was so close to you that entire night, whether it was a hand on your arm, tossed over your shoulder or gripping your waist. It’s driving you crazy reliving those sensations in your mind, but that’s all you can do now. Replay that night over and over again inside your head; reliving the things you remembered feeling. 

How it felt to be pressed against him, his muscled chest to your back, his body heat seeping into your skin as his hips rocked against you. You now know what his hands feel like against your face, tugging at your hair, gripping onto your thighs and waist—lifting you like you weighed nothing to him. You know what hunger looks like painted on the pretty angles of his face; pink lips parted, eyelids lowered over those dark, dark voids that threatened to suck you in like a whirlpool, eagerly waiting to drown you in their unknowable depths. You know what he sounds like when he’s desperate and panting in your ear, when he’s giving you an order in that dark tone of his, when he’s hissing out praises too garbled and low for you to truly hear. 

And, every time you go to sleep, deep inside of your dreams, you think you hear the noise he made just before you passed out. That hitching groan that tapered off into a pretty little whimper as his hips jerked against you in uneven patterns, so different from the slow and methodical rhythm seen before. You don’t know if it really happened or if you made up that last part, but it still haunts you regardless. Makes your heart race in your chest, makes your cunt clench and your mouth water at the thought of causing him to sound like that again.

You want it more than anything. You want him more than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life.  And you’re only human. A weak, weak human whose patience finally runs out after a week of not seeing him. You manage to last until the late afternoon after your usual call with Rafayel before you finally snap, and you should at least be commended for that, you think.

You don’t tell him you’re coming over—you already know what he’ll say—and he told you he’d be taking a nap after your call, so it really is the perfect time to sneak over there. If you get there late enough, you’ll also have a decent excuse of staying over, even if it’d be only for the night. Just one night to watch over him would be enough for you.

He’s sick, so you cover yourself up in comfortable clothes you don’t mind messing up, tying your hair up in a quick ponytail. A baggy pair of black sweatpants and a normal white tee that’s thin enough to keep you from overheating underneath the hoodie you zip over it. You take your keys and phone, only the essentials because your hands need to be free when you stop at the pharmacy to pick up the appropriate supplies. After double checking that you’ve locked your door, you head to the train station and make the trip.

One hour later and arms filled with bags from the pharmacy as well as some extra easy to digest snacks and drinks from the convenience store, you’re looking at the outside gate of Mo Art Studio. Swallowing, nerves bubble and pop in your belly, your heavy breaths warming up the space covered by the light blue surgical mask pulled to the bridge of your nose. The sun is going down now, and while a part of you is a bit worried about that, an even bigger part is stuck on the thought of you being in his home at night after everything.

Shaking your head, you push your way through the open gates, slowly walking up the path into the building. 

Rafayel gave you a key back when you were working for him, so when you get to his studio door, you fumble your way through your pockets. Your hand is shaking, and it takes you a few tries before you get the door to open. You exhale sharply when it swings past you, and you peek your head in to view the room inside.

“Rafayel, are you awake? I brought you some things I think will help…” Your voice is tentatively low as you inch your way into the dark studio. The curtains are open, so while there’s no lights turned on, the rays of the setting sun light your path enough for you to see. It’s then that you notice the body sprawled out on the ground in front of the sofa, back facing the cushions and arms stretched out in front of him. The only thing stopping you from rushing over is the rise and fall of his chest, as labored as his breathing is. Sweat glints underneath the sun's rays as it beads on his cheeks and neck, so you stop dawdling and quickly enter his home.

You close the door quietly behind you, setting down the bags and rummaging through them for a towel and the large bottle of water you bought. A cold compress should help with the very clear fever he’s got, and the extra water can be used to hydrate him. Rafayel tends to dry easily, so you know he couldn’t complain too much if you woke him up for something to drink.

It takes you no time at all to find the things you need, and soon enough, you’re sitting on your knees beside the awkwardly laying Rafayel, positioned directly in front of him. The ends of his hair are damp and stick to his forehead and the base of his neck, an alarming shade of pink covering his cheeks and the top of his chest you can see beneath his partly open button up. What you mistook as sweat from afar actually turns out to be little blue scales. They dot along the tops of his cheekbones, leading a sparse trail down to the side of his throat. His already pale skin looks even paler mingling with the shining blue, and the pained grimace furrowing his brow makes your chest ache. You have no idea what those scales can possibly mean, even though something tickles at the back of your mind with a vague sense of knowing. You ignore it, focusing on what you came here to do and not the odd new additions to Rafayel’s handsome face.

After folding and wetting the towel, you gently press it to his forehead, smiling when he sleepily groans and turns his face towards your hands. His eyes squint, and he grumbles nonsense before settling again. You almost don’t want to wake him, but with how much he’s sweating, you want to get some fluids in him as quickly as you can. With another intake of breath, you do your best to wake him.

“Hey…hey, wake up, Rafayel.” You shake his shoulder, trying again and again until he finally squirms and starts to wake. The last of the sun’s rays lay a thick stripe over his eyes, and when he opens them, they look like blazing flames. Your breath hitches when those unfocused flames land on your face and you get a strange image layered over his prone form. It’s gone between one blink and the next, but it leaves you shaken regardless—that niggling of knowing getting the slightest bit louder in your head. He blinks and the last of the sun’s light dies out, leaving you both in the cool tones of the evening sky.

“You up now?” You ask, watching as confusion fills Rafayel’s face. His eyes track up to his forehead where the compress is and then back to your face. He stays silent for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words; maybe for the first time in his life. You give him a smile and carefully help him sit up against the bottom of the couch.

“...Cutie?” You wince at the scratchy sound of his voice and hurriedly bring the bottle of water to his lips. Sluggishly, he drinks the water, eyes never leaving you as the confusion clears and something else takes its place. You ignore the burning of your cheeks and keep helping him drink, avoiding the growing heat in Rafayel’s lidded eyes as they stare deeply at you.

“Better?” You ask after he finishes the whole bottle. He hums out something non-committal, the hazy darkness of his eyes highlighted by the sudden moonlight bleeding in from the windows. You reach up to adjust the compress on his forehead when he doesn’t say anything. Your fingers accidentally graze the side of his nose, and you go to apologize, but it dies on your lips when Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut and he eagerly leans towards your palm.

You can only watch, mute, as one of his hands grabs onto your wrist, sliding underneath the loose sleeve of your hoodie. His skin is hot to the touch, maybe even a little too hot as the drag of his fingers leaves a scorching path across your skin. It hurts, the burning left behind by his dexterous fingers, but if anything you lean into that pain; eyes glued to the expression on his face as he nuzzles into your captured palm.

Blissful is the only word to come to your mind as he presses his mouth to your hand, layering gentle nips to the fleshy part of your palm before rubbing his cheek over your knuckles. You clench your other hand in the fabric of your sweatpants, biting down on your lip to keep in the noises threatening to escape. The heat from his hands and mouth is dizzying, leaving your head a complete mess while you watch him press close to your open hand. He seems to…worship your hand, dragging his nose along the slender curve of your digits, cupping his cheek with your palm, inhaling the thin skin of your wrist like he’s some kind of hunting dog.

It all makes your belly tingle with excitement, but when his hazy eyes open to meet yours, it’s like a cold bucket of water is thrown on you. Unfocused and completely incoherent—Rafayel doesn’t really know what he’s doing right now. The arousal quickly dies out after that, replaced with concern and disgust aimed at yourself.

He’s sick and feverish, you can’t take anything that he’s doing now seriously whatsoever. The last thing you want to do is take advantage of the man you love in such a despicable way. Gently, you begin to pull away your hand, the ache in your heart growing when he makes a low, forlorn sound. He sounds like a little puppy when he whines like that, and he does try to keep your hand in his grip, but it just isn’t right of you to allow this to continue.

“Rafayel, you’ve gotta let me go, okay? You’re still sick, so I want you to try and lay down on the couch.” You have to use your other hand to properly disentangle the first, but you do free yourself. Rafayel looks sad for about six seconds before a startling sense of clarity enters his eyes. He jerks back, an irritated frown forming on his face as he glares at you.

‘There he goes.’ You smile as best you can, hoping that it’s conveyed despite the mask.

“Hey, Rafayel.” It’s lame and awkward as hell, but that doesn’t stop you from trying regardless.

“What are you doing here—I told you to stay away from me until I get better.” It hurts you to be on the receiving end of that pissed off look, but at least you can finally see him in person, hear him without the tinny filer of a phone and the limited specs of a camera. The hurt in your chest spreads when his anger doesn’t abate, and the emotions you’ve been grappling at for the past week suddenly come to the forefront of your mind. The worry, the fear, the longing—all of it.

“And when exactly was that going to happen, huh? It’s been a week and you haven’t gotten any better. You didn’t sound like you did during our phone calls either, if anything your fever got worse! A week may not seem like a long time to you, but it is to me and I fucking missed you, you ass—,” You hate that your voice cracks on the word. You hate even more when Rafayel’s eyes widen and then grow concerned at the sight of your teary eyes. This isn’t supposed to be about you at all, it’s supposed to be about him. But you also can’t deny that you had a selfish ulterior motive. You angrily sigh, more upset at yourself than him.

You reach up to wipe the tears in your eyes, but feverishly warm fingers beat you to it. Between one blink and the next, Rafayel is all up in your face, gazing down at you with a visibly conflicted expression as he gently clears the tears away from your waterline. You sniffle a little and blink at him, eyes going from the dark pool swirling within the sunset-hues if his irises to the gleaming blue scales sitting pretty on his cheeks.

“...You’re crying again.” He states quietly, and you honestly don’t know how to respond to that, so you keep silent, your gaze moving down to look at the scales on his neck. 

Rafayel clearly has more secrets than you ever realized. Carries more than he ever wanted to share with you. Is he really sick? Or…or was he trying to keep the scales a secret from you. Maybe he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you? Or maybe he’s been betrayed before and he can’t trust you no matter how much he wants to? Is this a new thing or has he always been this way? Is this why he’s so reclusive? The various questions cross your mind so fast you almost grow dizzy. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

“Do you want me to leave?” You whisper, eyes resolutely locked onto the side of his throat. You can feel the weight of his stare as it bores into you, but you just can’t look at his face. If he rejects you outright and you see it, you’ll definitely cry and you really don’t want to do that. You were being selfish, if he’s upset and wants to send you away then that’s completely his right. Rafayel sighs heavily, and you wilt underneath the weight of that pressure. You’re just about to move away when one of his hands anchors to your waist, freezing you in your tracks.

“Silly girl, don’t you remember what I told you before?” His fingers softly land underneath your chin, tipping your head up so that you’re meeting his eyes. His brows are furrowed slightly, but it's more frustration than real anger anymore. And it seems to be aimed more at himself than you. He gently taps your chin with the pads of his forefinger, giving you an expectant look when you keep quiet.

You flush.

“Th…that you’ll always wanna see me. N-never doubt that.”

“Exactly. So you already know the answer to that question you asked, hm?” You nod, a bit shy in the face of his candid words. But they do help you feel better, and the tense line to your shoulders relaxes. His lips faintly quirk into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks down at you, softly rubbing the edge of his fingers against the slight pudge of your chin. When they catch on the end of the mask, he scoffs a bit then removes it. You want to offer a protest because you really don’t want to get sick too, but they don’t pass your lips when you see that unfathomable look in his eyes.

“As much as I want you here, though, you shouldn’t be here. S’dangerous for you, cutie.” The low tone sends chills down your spine. Dangerous? Your gaze flicks to the scales, and you think back to his behavior at the nightclub. The empty blackness of his eyes, the predatory edge to his face, the flash of serrated teeth you thought you imagined. A picture is beginning to paint itself in your mind, but you won’t make any assumptions until he confirms it for you himself.

“You can’t hurt me.” You state plainly, and you can see the argument start on his face, but you interrupt before he can say a thing.

“I’m serious, Rafayel. You cannot hurt me. I won’t let you think that you will.” Swallowing down your nerves, you lean closer to him. His eyes widen and he instinctively leans back, knocking the cold compress off his forehead in his rush. You ignore the wet ‘splat’ as it falls to the ground next to you, following him until he’s back in his original spot against the couch. But this time, you’re poised over his lap, resting high up on your knees above him. The furious blush to his cheeks grows even darker as he looks up at you, and you slowly bring your hands up to cradle his face. He sharply inhales, eyelids fluttering closed even as his hands wrap around your wrists as if to pull you off. But they merely rest there, as if looking for something to hold. As if looking for an anchor.

“You don’t understand, [✦]—!”

“Then help me, Rafayel. Because from where I’m at, there’s nothing you can do that could ever hurt me.” You gently brush your thumbs along the edges of his scales; lips quirking when Rafayel’s eyes slip nearly closed. They’re wickedly sharp and cold to the touch, like stainless steel. But prettier, in your opinion. Granted, everything about Rafayel is pretty in a deadly way, so it's easy for you to accept the scales as yet another part of him. A part that you want to know about desperately. The hands around your wrist tighten and you see Rafayel’s teeth grit so hard that a vein nearly pops in his jaw. 

His eyes snap open, the normal color of his eyes now resembling that flat black from the nightclub. He bares his teeth in a snarl, an angry hiss falling vibrating up his throat. It’s unlike any expression you’ve seen on his face before, yet it does very little to frighten you. Even when you feel the prick of too-sharp nails bite into the sensitive flesh of your wrist. Even when the ends of his teeth grow the slightest bit sharper, the color of his scales glowing even brighter underneath the moonlight.

He’s stunning. And as all the puzzle pieces click in your mind, you finally understand what he is.

“I’m a Lemurian, [✦]. I’m a vicious, angry monster that snaps up humans and whatever else I can sink my claws into. I’m fucking dangerous and you need to leave if you want to stay safe.” He says, as if he isn’t gripping your wrists tight enough to bruise. As if every cell in his body doesn’t want you even closer. You don’t say anything to that, just stare down at him with the sweetest and softest smile you have and keep the hold on his face easy and gentle.

You can see him fighting against your touch, but it's clearly a losing battle when he so eagerly leans into your hands, mouth parted as heavy breaths wet the skin of your wrist. You bite your lip at the expression on his face, watching as his eyelashes fan over the tops of his cheeks when he nuzzles into your hands, all that faux aggression from before melting off him. Rafayel is hungry for your touch—starved for it, really. It makes your chest burn when you finally realize that he aches for you the way you do him. It’s in the way his entire body can’t help but open up to you, the way he held your hand earlier, the nicknames and the intensity—all of it begins to make sense now.

You duck your head to touch his forehead with yours, smiling slightly when he lets out a breathy little sigh that blows across your face. Eyes open and already watching, you witness the change in his irises when his eyelids lift. The final shift from his human guise to a glimpse of his real one. A blue so clear and bright that it rivals the sky itself glows from within the ring of his irises, the black vertical slits for his pupils growing fat and wide when they lock onto you. It’s surprisingly cute, and it reminds you of how a cat’s pupils expand when it locks onto something they really like.

“Oh Rafayel…you’re so beautiful.” You coo, brushing your nose against his. He visibly looks startled and the comical expression makes you burst into a fit of giggles. You don’t surprise him often, so when you do, it always fills you with a childish kind of delight.

“You think I’m gonna be afraid of you because…what, you’ll hurt me with your claws? Bite me with those teeth of yours? Cut me on the edges of your scales? Rafayel–,” You lean back a bit, biting back a grin when he follows you. Gently, you push him back with the grip you have on his cheeks, lowering your head down to his ears, which have gained a slightly pointed edge. He goes ramrod still when he feels your breath on his ear.

“What you don’t seem to realize,” You murmur against the cartilage, lightly squeezing his face in your hands, “is that I’m not scared of you. How could I be when I can see that you aren’t dangerous to me? There have been plenty of times before where it would’ve been so easy for you to do something. But you haven’t, and that’s why I trust you. That’s why I’ll do anything for you, anything you need me to do.”

“You don’t—you can’t mean that.” He spits, like you can’t feel the restraint in his tense body. Like you don’t see just how much he’s holding himself back. You pull away to stare into his eyes, dragging your thumbs down the flushed skin of his cheeks. God, the look he’s giving you—a fine haze swirling through that brilliant shade of blue; an angry little furrow between his brow as his lips slightly purse into a pout. Sexy and cute all at once, the sight alone makes you want to give him anything and everything he wants ever.

“I mean every single word. Whatever it is that you’re going through, you clearly need my help. Just let me, please? I just wanna make you feel better. Hate seeing you like this.” Slowly, you lower yourself to sit in his lap. He watches you back, and you can see the fight start to leave him, the grip on your wrists loosening their tight hold.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong with me. How can you be so sure that you’ll even help?” He sneers, but he doesn’t stop you when you settle on his lap. You ignore the bulge you can feel pressing against you, sliding one of your hands down to rest on his chest. The grip on your wrist breaks easily, the other falling from your hand soon after.

“Then tell me.” You push yourself even closer, dragging across his lap to settle against him, chest to chest. His hips jerk when you do, his hands falling to your waist as if to stop you. But they just rest there instead, kneading the soft skin held in his slim fingers. 

“Help me understand you, Rafayel. I promise you, all I want to do is help.” There’s a desperate edge in your voice that you can’t hide, the grip you have on his cheek growing tighter as you slightly shake his face. As if you can physically get him to understand that you’re serious—that you’d love nothing more than to serve him. To make that pained grimace disappear.

He stares at you, and you can feel the rapid pounding of his heartbeat through his warm and sweaty chest. Which means that he can feel how fast your heart is racing despite how calm you’re trying to be. And you can see when he finally gives up; the tenseness to his expression going lax in defeat. While you don’t grin in victory, you also don’t bother hiding your happiness.

“You don’t get to run away from me after this. I won’t let you go, even if you beg me to.” He warns, low and serious.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?” You retort back, and a quicksilver flash of amusement flickers through his eyes before he ducks his head down. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, and you end up tossing both of your arms over his shoulders in order to sit more comfortably. You run your fingers through the strands of his hair, shivering when you feel his lips gently brush against your pulse point. The coolness of his scales press into your skin, but surprisingly, they don’t cut you.

“...Once a year, the ocean’s tide lowers and pulls in the opposite direction.” His hands slip underneath your hoodie and your t-shirt to touch your bare skin. Your eyelids flutter shut when he rests one of his hands on your stomach, sliding the other around to rub along the small of your back.

“Lemurians grow weak during that time. Vulnerability equals death when you live the way we do. As our body physically weakens…our instincts get stronger in response. Grow so intense that they help us stay alive. Stay safe against those that would use us—those who we don’t consider ours.” You gasp when you feel his teeth nibble on your skin, kicking your hips forward when the hand on your stomach dips lower.

“Around those we feel safest by, those who we can trust, our instincts latch onto that. They fuel our desires and cause them to become almost uncontrollable.” Your heart thumps painfully in your chest. ‘He trusts you. He trusts you so much that he..’ But you have to be sure. You can’t—you need to hear him say it out loud.

“Wh-what do you desire, then? What do you need?” You squirm when his hand stops at the waistband of your sweatpants, his other slowly trailing up your spine; dragging the tips of his nails up each individual knob. 

“...You. I need you so bad that it’s driving me wild. Fuck, but you already feel what you do to me, right?” The laugh he lets out is derisive, but it does nothing to hide the utter desperation coloring his words. The pound of his heart ticks up where his chest is pressed against yours, and the breathing against your throat gets even heavier. You cunt clenches when he admits it. You almost wouldn’t believe it, if not for the fervent kisses he’s placing against your neck. As if a damn breaks, the hands on your skin feel you up with an urgency that causes your veins to flow with an uncontrollable heat.

“Need you so bad right now, cutie, you’ve got no idea. Wanna rip these stupid clothes off and see all of you. I’ve thought about it, you know? What I'd do to you if I had the chance. How pretty you’d scream; how tight and perfect you’d feel wrapped around me.” You shake in his hold, biting your lip when you feel him jerk his hips against you, nails leaving the barest of scratches against your skin as he licks a strip up the side of your throat.

“I’d fill you up so nicely, too. Whatever you wanted—my fingers, my mouth, my cock.  Do anything to make you feel good. Have you come so many times that you’d be thinking of nothing but me the same way I think of nothing but you. Need you, need you, please, need you so bad—”

“You have me, Rafayel. Whatever you need from me it’s yours. I’m yours.” Your voice breaks when he groans into your neck, the sound sending a bolt of heat down your spine as he bucks up even faster against you. You grip his hair in one hand, anchoring the other on his shoulder to get more leverage as you try and match the rhythm of his hips; rutting against his clothed cock. Even through your clothes, you can feel it, and it’s hard to stay focused with the noises his voice is whining at you in your ear.

“Again. Say that—say it again. Please.” 

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I-I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“Rafayel, I’m yours.”

You two gravitate towards each other, foreheads knocked together, breaths mingling as you gaze at one another. The frenzied light in his eyes makes your whole body run hot, and it takes all of your strength to keep that eye contact as you go around and around in circles. Mumbling into each other’s mouths, but never quite kissing, you rock against each other. 

The friction shouldn’t be enough for you; but you’ve wanted him for so long that it feels like you get to that precipice in no time at all. Your eyelids flutter, your mouth drops open and your brows furrow. You’re so close to it, you just need that extra push and you’ll be there, but you can’t seem to find it. The hand in his hair tightens into a fist in your frustration, and you accidentally yank on those fluffy strands when you jerk forward too hard. Rafayel’s eyes squeeze tight as his hips stutter up, a low, broken moan falling from his lips as he leans forward.

“Fuck, fuck, shit—” His whole body shudders, and you can only watch as he comes undone beneath you; satisfaction drowning out your previous frustration. You just made him come. You did that, and you haven’t even gotten your hands on him really. He pants against your mouth, sweat dripping down the side of his face and hands gently rubbing over your skin. You hum at the feeling, nuzzling your nose against his as you pet through his hair, rubbing his shoulder with your other hand.

You watch as his eyes slit open, not at all surprised to see the heat in his eyes burning just as strongly as before. They drop to your mouth, and you don’t even have to think before you move. It hardly takes a lot, but it still feels like something momentous as your lips finally meet.

His lips are soft when you kiss; scorching you to the bone when he molds them to yours. You both moan in each other's mouths, his hands reaching up to cup your face while you pull him in closer by his hair. There’s nothing slow about the way you two kiss. A frenzied passion settles in the air between you, the noises from your lips loud as it echoes out into the quiet air.

Rafayel licks over your bottom lip, and you don’t hesitate to slide it open wider. You meet his tongue with yours, and maybe you should find it gross that it quickly dissolves into a messy and wet affair; spit from both of your mouths sliding down your chin. But you actually like how slutty it makes you feel, the spit drying on your skin only fanning the embers burning low in your gut. 

Soon, though, his lips trail down; teeth scraping against your skin as his fingers fumble with the zipper of your hoodie. You quickly help him unzip it, shrugging it off while he licks and sucks marks into your neck. You instinctively bare more of your throat to him, shivering when his hands waste no time in cupping the heavy sag of your breasts. He’s open-mouth panting into the side of your neck, gently squeezing the soft flesh in his hands before he rubs his thumbs over your nipples. They run over the barbells pierced through them, and you moan when they harden underneath his touch.

He freezes.

He rolls your nipples between his thumbs again, and you can feel his skin get even hotter somehow.

“Off. Your clothes—fuck, I need to see you.” He rasps, letting go of your chest to grab your waist. You nod, and he watches you with lust-blown eyes as you reach down and pull off your shirt. He taps your waist, and without thinking, you leverage yourself up onto your knees. 

“Perfect.” The low inhuman trill he lets out after sighing those words startles you and you jump a bit, but the sound soon leaves your mind when you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples. His fingers pinch and roll the other one, his second hand slipping beneath your sweatpants. His long, dexterous fingers glide over your mound before delving into the tight, wet heat of your cunt.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging crescents into his shoulder as you rock down on his fingers. The noise you let out is high-pitched and loud, but you don’t have the mind to be shy about how you sound when all you can think about are the things he’s doing to you. The warmth of his mouth as it toys with your nipple; the heat of his hand as it squeezes your breast; the stretch of his fingers as they glide in and out of you, easy and slick from how embarrassingly wet you are. 

“So good, so fucking good, Rafayel–ah!” You tremble when his fingers tug at the little golden barbel piercing glinting in the moonlight, the vibrations from his low moan causing you to squeeze down tightly on his fingers. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you continue to bounce on his hand, crying out and squeezing your eyes shut when he presses down on the one spot that makes you see stars. The coil forming in your belly is tightening tighter and tighter the faster her fucks his fingers into you, purposefully aiming at the spongey nerve inside of you. That peak you were aiming for earlier is fast approaching, and you’re helpless to stop it from careening into you like a truck.

“You close, pretty girl?” 

“Yeah. M’so close, Rafayel. Please, please—” Your body sways forward and your eyes fall to his mouth. Glossy with spit and red, you have the sudden urge to kiss him. Using the grip you have on his hair, you gently tug him away from your chest. You tilt his head up and lean down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you close your eyes and press your lips together. He kisses back without hesitation, his free hand sliding around to support your back as he drills his fingers in and out of you. You can feel how close you’re getting, how your muscles twitch and spasm, how the heat from your bodies burns you from the inside out. 

“Come on my fingers. C’mon, wanna feel you squeeze around me. Lemme feel it, cutie, I know you’re already there, just need a little more—” You have no idea how he manages it with the awkward angle of his fingers, but you feel a sudden stimulation to your clit and suddenly, you’re gone. Your eyes roll behind your closed lids as tears drip down your cheeks, your body jerking violently in his hold as you cream all over his fingers. Rafayel growls low and deep in his chest, keeping the momentum of his fingers even after it's clear that you’re getting overstimulated.

“Rafa–s’too much, wait…” You shake when his fingers don’t stop, his mouth kissing away the moisture on your face.

“I need to feel you. Please, need to be inside you; need to be in so deep that you never get rid of me.” He begs, and even though your body is still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm; even though every touch to your throbbing cunt aches; even though you feel like you’re about to float away with all the endorphins rushing through your mind, you easily fold.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a ‘squelch’, quickly maneuvering you until you’re spread out on the floor in front of him, sweatpants tossed off and leaving you completely bare beneath the moonlight streaming in through the open windows. You watch as he quickly undresses himself, eyes trailing down the lean but strong lines of his muscular frame. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the space in between his legs when he drops back to his knees and shuffles towards you. Long and flushed a deep pink, he’s easily the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. Decently thick with a slight left lean, you know that he’s going to fill you so well—your cunt aches at the thought.

“So pretty…” He mumbles, long fingers sliding underneath your thighs. He lifts them until they rest on his shoulders, spreading your pussy out with one hand while he grips the base of his cock with the other. He leans forward, dragging the length of his cock through the messy wet folds of your cunt. You shake uncontrollably while he coats his dick in your fluids, biting your lip when you feel the soft drag of his balls touch where your ass meets your thigh.

“I’m gonna paint you like this, one day. Capture how perfect you look; spread out and waiting for me to fuck you. To fill you with me.  You’re mine for life and forever beyond that. Gonna make it so that you’re never whole without me; so that you’re never full if I’m not next to you. M’never gonna let you go now, cutie. But, I think you already know that, yea?” The way he’s staring at you has you reaching out for him; something he easily gives you when he bends down and lets you hook your hands around his neck, your legs falling to either side of his hips.

“You gonna keep me? Split me open and fill me with you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your eyes half-lidded and your body aching. But you love the feeling it leaves you with; love the hungry, desperate look in Rafayel’s eyes as he ruts his cock against your cunt. Your breaths mix as he brushes his nose against yours, placing a gentle peck to the corner of your eye.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna give you whatever you want. Everything that you want.” He promises, before raising himself slightly. Chest heaving, you train your eyes back down and watch as he uses your slick to coat himself with the hand on his cock, groaning low in his chest when he squeezes the sensitive skin of his head on the upstroke. He angles the tip down, and you feel the insane amount of heat emanating from his dick right before it pierces you. Your entire body trembles in shock as you take him in. Despite being loose from your orgasm, you still find it to be a bit of stretch to fit his girth inside of you. Your mouth drops open in a silent wheeze as that empty feeling inside of you is slowly filled by every inch you take.

Rafayel isn't faring much better above you, sweat dripping down the sculpted planes of his chest as he pants for air, the red flush traveling down his shoulders to his pecs. His eyes are wide opened and locked onto the space where you two are connected, one hand still guiding his shaft, the other digging into the meat of your thigh.

Before long, you feel him bottom out. A hurt little sound punches out of your chest when you feel the tip bump into your cervix. Your hands are scratching at Rafayel’s back, whimpering cries leaving your mouth as he leans back over you. His mouth is slack, eyes hazy and cloudy as his hands fold you over until your feet dangle by your ears. You can barely breath in that position, but the deeper his cock goes more than makes up for it.

The time for words is long gone, evident by the way Rafayel just begins thrusting into you without waiting any longer. Folded in half as you are, all you can do is lie there and take the brutal and sharp jerks of his hips; the sound of your wet skin slapping against his as it echoes out into the otherwise silent room. The only thing you hear is his voice—continuously mumbling out desperate little pleas and praises that you can just barely hear above the blood rushing to your ears. Your own voice comes out as no more than a breathy wheeze from the angle you're positioned at.

You can barely think past the rhythmic clap of his thighs against your ass, eyes blank and glossy. Nothing else matters at that moment; nothing but the stretch of his cock bullying your cunt open; the sharp hit against your cervix that make your cunt clench even tighter; the whimpering, guttural moans of his echoing in your ears; the bruising grip he has on your thighs, nails drawing bloody crescents into your skin; the overwhelming pleasure as becoming one with Rafayel, getting as physically close as two people can possibly get. You barely even notice when Rafayel suddenly sinks his teeth into your neck; you do notice the searing pain that begins to form where he bit, however, and you cry out. The pain and pleasure of it all mixes into an intoxicating blend. It becomes your favorite taste when Rafayel’s scales litter your shoulders and chest with cuts, the nails on his fingers doing much the same to the backs of your thighs.

Rafayel moans into the skin of your neck where his teeth are still buried, the pace of his thrusts speeding up so quickly that you realize what’s about to happen. The thought of him coming inside of you brings you back to your senses, and your hands weakly begin to pull him in even closer. You need to feel him release inside of you; need it so badly you could cry. 

You don’t have the breath to plead any longer, but Rafayel seems to just know anyway, because he easily scoops you up, settling in between your legs and pressing you flat to the floor. Your shaking thighs wrap around his waist, and he comes exactly like that; smothering you with the bulk of his body as he marks you on the outside and the inside. Your own orgasm follows, and you come with a hoarse whimper.

Your cunt pulses around his spent cock, and though you can hear the tiny little whines he lets out around the teeth buried in your neck, he refuses to pull out. If anything, he gently rocks his hips against you, as if encouraging your pussy in her plight to milk him dry. Sweat cools sticky against your skin, and you feel the edges of unconsciousness tickle your mind. Before you can fight against it, you find that it already has you under and you lose yourself to the warm, dark embrace of sleep as Rafayel cradles you close; a low, rhythmic humming vibrating his chest.

[0wlettie]

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: lonely and feeling ridiculously horny because of your period, you decide to pass the time as you wait for caleb to come back. you're expecting your cycle to be finished when he does, so you have no issue with taking care of yourself. in his bed. but, he unexpectedly comes back early and catches you in the act...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 13.4k, gege usage, heavy talk of periods/sexual activity while on a period, like seriously i go into heavy detail so if you're uncomfy w/that kinda stuff i'd definitely skip this one, down bad reader, like super down bad reader, light angst, porn-without-plot, frottage, masturbation (reader), multiple orgasms, blood, like, i'm so serious there's a lot of blood in this fic, you've been warned, D/s dynamics, under-negotiated kink, light degradation, pet names (baby, pipsqueak), soft!caleb, but he's still wild af so there are some choice lines here, tbh reader is wild af too, they're both incredibly weird about one another, inappropriate evol usage, kissing, just so many kisses in this, crying (but make it sexy), this has a lot of feelings in it and i'm not at all sorry for it, fingerfucking, overstimulation, dirty talk, period sex, unprotected sex

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you prefer ;)

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: i'm so serious ya'll this is just absolutely disgusting filth that came to me during my own cycle, high as shit and way too horny for my own good. that combined with the one sc of this recent period sex fic with sylus…the thought in my head grew even LOUDER so yea, here this is. if it's not your cup of tea then please, by all means skip because i'm so serious, this is like, so fucking nasty and unhinged it's embarrassing. i'm warning you please heed the tags this is a lot ;;; title derived from Nasty by Tinashe because duh lol Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked without hesitation)

Being mindful of your period dates never came easy to you. Your particular cycle is pretty regular, but you have so many things going on in your head that those dates are pushed to the far, far back of your thoughts. Until you wake up one morning and you find yourself recreating a horrific murder scene underneath your sheets. Except in this instance, you were wide awake when you felt the inside of your underwear begin to stick to your skin. You’re just lucky you were able to get up before you inevitably stained the sheets. 

Your stomach spasms, and you hiss as you curl up on your side, burying yourself into the dark brown comforter you're currently wrapped in. Your hands rub and squeeze the pudge of your belly, trying in vain to soothe the cramps currently attacking you. But they don’t do a thing to help, and you’re forced to curl up even tighter, digging your knees into your chest. This is the absolute worst and you wish you could just make it stop with your thoughts alone.

‘Maybe I should get a tracker? Or have it in my calendar?’  You let out a shaky sigh, fingers digging into the red and black pajama pants covering your legs. ‘Or maybe I should tell gege to remind me.’ The thought makes you wheeze out a laugh, groaning in pain when your uterus internally fists your guts—and not in the fun way. ‘Well, at least he’s out on a sudden mission. I should be done by the time he comes back.’ You think wryly, wincing when another sharp pain stabs through your abdomen. You were supposed to spend your vacation with Caleb, but right when you made it to Skyhaven, something urgent came up. He had just enough time to take you to his home before he set off for whatever Farspace Fleet mission he had to complete. 

You’ve come to learn that answering your texts or returning your calls was always fifty-fifty when he was out on a job, so you’ve had very minimal contact with him since. Three days have passed without much of anything from him, and in the cold and empty apartment left behind, your only solace is his bedroom. With a king sized mattress and state of the art window dimmers, it resembles more of a cave after you make yourself comfortable. Presumptuous of you and certainly rude, but you honestly don’t care. You missed your gege, and now that he was back in your life, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away; even if it meant crossing some boundaries.

You glance down at the hoodie and sweats you’re wearing. Even the boxers you have on now are his—lined with a thick pad in case you leaked around your tampon before you could get to the toilet. It’d be fine for the hoodie. But wearing his underwear and pants, while on your cycle? Risking staining his clothes with your blood? That was a level of strange you never thought you’d fall to, but here you are now; wearing his clothes while you wait for him to return from his top secret Colonel mission that he's not allowed to tell you about. You’re thankful you’ve got plenty of time to spare this visit—especially since this will technically be the first time you’ve stayed over since you reunited.

Your boss had actually forced you to take a couple of weeks off. You’re a bit of a workaholic, and with your job as a pencil pusher for the Hunter Association, that means that you’re constantly busy. There’s a ridiculous amount of paperwork involved with Hunters—property damage, travel costs, medical insurance files, new weapons costs, uniform costs, and the list goes on and on. It doesn’t help that you have no life outside of work, either. The few friends you have from college are now married and have whole families and careers to worry about. You can’t even remember the last time you saw them.

Your only focus was work—even more so in the months after losing Caleb. No family and no friends, you spiraled into the one constant in your life. You never went home, falling asleep at your desk far more times than you can remember. You used the free access to the Hunter training gym to shower, and used the cafeteria and vending machines to eat and drink. Toughed out the worst of your periods with nothing but work driving you. And because your department was so understaffed, no one batted an eyelash and allowed you to continue your unhealthy working habits.

And you probably would have done so for the rest of your miserable life too, if not for Caleb's sudden reappearance. Adorned with a new uniform, a new title, and a somewhat colder personality than you were used to, it shocked you so bad that you had no choice but to take some time off to figure out what the hell was going on. He still hasn’t fully explained to you what happened either, despite your many questions. Has just given you bare bones explanations to your blatant prodding; unsubtly changing the subject when he couldn’t say more. You wanted to be angry, and at first you were so fucking furious that you honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. But that morphed into a desperate sort of joy after thinking it over for a couple of days. You could stay mad at him; avoiding his calls and texts, not answering your door, etc. Or, you could accept that you might never find out the truth and allow Caleb back into your life again. Allow your gege to come back like how you’ve wished him to in the countless sleepless nights you’ve had since the accident.

It was an easy choice after that.

Gradually, your life became less and less about work, and more about reconnecting with Caleb. And gradually, you began to revert back to the person you used to be. Your department also hired more people to help lighten the workloads, which led to an investigation into the crazy amount of overtime your department had accrued, which leads you here now a month after Caleb’s reappearance; four weeks of paid vacation with orders to use it all, because you still had at least three more to take before the end of the year.

And what better way to spend that vacation with the one you loved most?

‘It would've been nice if I remembered my period dates, though. I only have a few stray tampons in my bag, and this is the last backup pad in the pack I bought. I would order stuff, but I don’t even know if I can make it to the bathroom, let alone all the way to the front door. Can OTTO pick it up for me, maybe? Or maybe the lil robot will give me another one of those excuses not too.’ You groan into the pillow your face is buried in; squeezing your eyes shut when that tight fist in your belly tightens and twists. You want to scream, but frankly, you’re so tired that you can’t muster up the energy. It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with this level of pain, and it was only the beginning of day two. Sure, you had the occasional bad cramp or your pussy ached every time you got up and moved, but that was usually between the third and fourth day. Maybe the stress had affected you somehow? Or maybe it was your diet? Whatever the case, it leaves you damn near immobile as you lay in Caleb’s bed.

You’ve got something random playing on your laptop behind you, and you let your thoughts drift as the pain in your abdomen ebbs and flows. Wrapped in your gege’s clothes, lying on his bed, drowning in his familiar and comforting scent, and knowing that he’s coming back to you lulls you into a light doze. The pain turns into a background sensation to you, blurring your perception of time until it becomes unrecognizable. You don’t know how long you spend in that state, only that you’re suddenly jolted up by the familiar pulse of heat that flares up in your cunt.

You fly up and out of the bed, windmilling to try and save you from tripping over the covers when you nearly faceplant. You hop around until you’re free, racing off to the bathroom once your bare feet hit the floor. You continuously chant inside of your mind to ‘please don’t leak, please don’t leak, please—’ all the way until you pull your pants down and sit on the toilet.

Five minutes later, you’re rewrapping yourself in the covers, with a fresh tampon and only the smallest of dots of blood on your pad. Your laptop is playing still, but this time you face it, taking in the time. 9:41 p.m. Later than you expected, but that also isn’t very surprising either. You readjust the laptop and settle into the covers.

You pull up the hood around your ears, taking in a big breath of the remnants of Caleb’s cologne and laundry detergent found in the soft cotton. Your body instantly relaxes, a sense of warmth and comfort overtaking you. Eyes glazing over, you snuggle deeper into the covers, rubbing your feet against the smooth fabric. The leg on the pants you’re wearing shifts after your leg moves, pulling down awkwardly and rubbing the seam on the crotch directly against your clit. Your hips jerk forward instinctively, causing the seam to brush against you again.

The warmth and comfort from before grows sweeter, almost. Slow and syrupy, a different sort of heat builds up beneath your skin. The breath you let out is weak, turning into a ragged moan when you move your hips again. A hazy fog settles over your mind as you grind your pussy into the coarse fabric of your gege’s sleep pants. Even if the pad and feeling of your tampon reminds you of the awful mess going on in between your legs, you find that the continuous gush of your slick and blood turns you on more. It mixes with the pain, making everything all the more intense for your mind to take in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” You mumble out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you desperately swivel your hips. One hard grind has the tampon in you shifting, and you bite into the fabric of the hoodie pressed against your face when a sharp burst of pleasure tightens that coil forming in your lower gut. You move to try and hit that angle again, but you can’t seem to find that exact spot. You whine, furrowing your brows as a piercing ache travels up from your cunt, shivering when you rub against your clit so hard it sends sparks traveling down your spine. 

But it’s not enough. None of it is enough for you.

You try to move faster, rubbing harder against the cloth but nothing seems to work. You’re teetering along that thin ledge, so close yet so far from reaching the peak you crave. It’s enough to make the tears blurring your vision fall, a helpless sort of feeling welling up beneath your ribcage. You can’t bring yourself to reach down and slip your fingers beneath the layers covering your lower half. The thought of it embarrasses you too much. So you’re forced to grind against the cloth covering you, like some desperate and feral thing, fuzzy-brained and moving on the pure instinct to feel good. It’s as humiliating as it is arousing, so despite the flush coloring your face, you continue your movements. You breathe in when more wetness gushes from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of your head when more of your gege’s scent filters in through your nose. The mental blur suddenly sharpens, and you have a crystal clear image of your gege in your mind.

‘Caleb.’

You can picture the look he’d give you if he realized what you were going through; the slant of his brows concerned, a sympathetic light in his eyes as his mouth curls into a little frown. He’s helped you before, during the worst of your cycles. Holding you within the warm cradle of his arms, playing with the strands of your hair and talking you through the worst of your pain, rubbing a soothing hand over your soft tummy when the cramps made you tear up and cry out for his help. Another part of you wonders how he’d look at you now, with you frantically humping the fabric of his pants; desperate and needy for the sudden urges flooding your mind. It excites you even more, trying to picture his reaction, what he could possibly do to you when you’re so vulnerable.

“Gege…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken, memories of Caleb blurring your shaky vision. Like how big he felt wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your back while his palms slowly rubbed your stomach. The rough pound of his heartbeat as you felt it through the thinness of his shirt, his breaths quiet and warm as they puffed against the skin of your neck. New images branch off from the memories rolling through your head—little ‘what if’ moments that feed off the darker parts of your thoughts. They flick through your thoughts like a slideshow, showing you what you’ve been craving ever since you realized the true scope of your feelings towards your gege.

The heat burning you from the inside out grows hotter, the noises from your throat loud and pathetic even to your own ears as you helplessly grind back and forth, flashes of Caleb spurring you on. Fantasies of yours that haunt you no matter the time of day. Of his hands and the way they’d easily sink into the flesh of your hips. Of his lips and how they would plant messy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. Of the deep cadence of his voice, whispering all kinds of dirty things in your ear as he toyed with the sensitive bud of your clit. Of his strong arms and how easily they’d hold you down to the bed, the heavy press of his body keeping you trapped underneath him as he bucked against you. The snap of his hips as they’d meet the backs of your thighs, the loud and obscene sounds mingling with the wet gush of your cunt; the tip of his cock railing you so deep that you’d be screaming—

“Fuck, gege, please—!” You choke when your orgasm sneaks up on you, legs snapping closed and spine arching so deeply that you feel a muscle in your back jump. Your entire body trembles from the aftershocks, mind whiting out completely as your brain fries from the intensity. A long string of drool slides down your chin as your eyes stare blankly ahead, chest heaving from the rough breaths you intake. Phantom touches to your hips and thighs make your hips jerk as another gush of fluid seeps through the tampon, and you let loose a loud groan.

You’re expecting the fire in your veins to calm, but if anything, the frenzy gets even hotter. You don’t feel satisfied in the slightest, and a sob builds in your throat when you realize that fact. The way your cunt aches with the need to be filled; the raw desire to have your gege buried inside of you, shaft covered in a mix of your cum and blood. You feel dirty just thinking about it, but that feeling doesn’t stop you from jerkily reaching out to snag a nearby pillow. You quickly drag it within the tight cocoon wrapped around you, stuffing it in between your thighs. The first grind against it has you sobbing, the tears returning to blur your vision as you flip yourself to rest on your stomach.

You squeeze your legs together when you feel a particularly wet rush of something slide onto your pad. You push your face harder into the pillow, moaning loudly when you buck your hips forward. You can feel a definitive wetness stick to your cunt after moving, the dizzying mix of shame and arousal spreading through your veins like liquid magma. Your knees sink into the soft bedding as you spread them, one of your hands cupping your tit as the other slightly holds you up. 

The pain of your cramps is long gone, replaced with the itch of arousal that refuses to go away. No matter how many times you try to work yourself over, you can’t pass that peak again. It leaves you crying desperately into the pillow, its surface soaked from your tears and drool. Your thighs are completely sticky and gross, the fabric of his boxers sticking to the half-dry fluids staining your skin. Sensitive and shaky, you’re no closer to finishing than you were what feels like ages ago at this point. You need more than just fantasies, now. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. You need him to help you, to drive away that burning itch that drives you insane with need and want. You need Caleb—you need your gege.

“Caleb, gege, need you so bad. Please, please need you…!” You whine, your words garbled from behind the pillow in your face. Your hand plays with the heavy sag of your tit, rolling the hard bud of your nipple as you rut against the pillow wedged between your thighs. You can’t stop your fantasies from returning, the images of Caleb touching you, of him kissing you, of him finding his way home in the tight clutch of your cunt. You can feel yourself leak through the layers of Caleb’s bottoms as you breathe in his scent again, a sick sense of pleasure lighting you up from the inside. You feel like such a creep, using his clothes, his underwear, his bed as a tool to help you jerk off. But it also gets you so hot and bothered that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. The thought of marking up his stuff with the scent of you, with your blood, your cum and spit and tears; all of it tips you closer and closer to the edge. No matter how guilty and dirty it makes you feel, you begin to rush towards that end faster and faster.

So lost in yourself, you don’t hear the distant ‘click’ of a door opening. Nor do you hear the sharp clap of shoes against tile, the sound growing louder and closer as you continue your frantic movements. It’s only when you’re reaching the end of your desperate chase, your pussy tightening around the tampon inside of you and the buildup of your orgasm cresting, do you realize that the door to Caleb’s room is open and the lights are being clicked on. You have no time to react, your eyes rolling into the back of your head when you finally reach the end.

“Gege!” You moan into the pillow underneath you, thighs twitching erratically around the pillow in between them. Your arm gives out on you then, and your entire body slumps forward to fall flat on the bed. A cracked whimper falls from your lips, hips kicking forward when the movement draws a weak spurt of something to slip down one of your thighs. It’s deathly silent for what feels like an eternity as your body shakes and your mind returns to you. You could say that you were finally done—that being caught in the act of jerking off in your gege’s bed has sufficiently killed off any traces of arousal, but you’d be a fat fucking liar if you did. You can feel the barest of traces of those nagging embers, smouldering quietly within the aching pit of your stomach. 

“...Welcome back, gege.” You croak out after turning your head to the side, seeing Caleb still dressed in his fleet uniform. You think it’s the exhaustion that’s making this a lot easier for you to handle. That and the rush of endorphins in the aftermath of your second orgasm. Otherwise, you don’t think you could’ve looked Caleb’s way at all, wrapped in his comforter and looking like a debauched mess on his bed. Your chest heaves for breath as you watch his painfully still form, the angle of his uniform cap hiding his eyes from you. All you can see is the tight pink line of his mouth, teeth clenching so hard that you can spot a vein throbbing at the edge of his jaw. Your breath catches and you hate yourself a little more when you realize that this side of Caleb is getting you hot all over again.

“Welcome…back.” He echoes your words back, an incredulous kind of deadpan to them that would be funny in any other context. The coldness of his tone combined with the rigidness of his body spells nothing but trouble for you, your cunt fluttering around the tampon inside of you. Ignoring the sudden need to grind into the pillow still held by your trembling thighs, you sit up using your arms. Shakily, you attempt to get into a sitting position, but when moving causes a thin trickle of the mess in your bottoms to seep into the blanket, you freeze. You’re left in an awkward position, half-balancing on your spread knees; hair askew and face sticky with tears and drool.

“...welcome back, huh.” He laughs underneath his breath, darkly unamused. You open your mouth to try and explain yourself, though you don’t even know how you would, when you pause. Caleb reaches up to take off his hat, carelessly tossing it aside with one hand while the other begins undoing his uniform coat. Your mouth goes dry when he stalks forward, both hands now joining in on undressing him. Each article of clothing is thrown to the ground, leaving a trail from his bedroom door all the way to his bed, until he’s clad in nothing but his uniform pants and a plain white tank.

Your eyes dart across the broadness of his shoulders, tracing along the defined lines of his biceps and veiny forearms; the sharpness of his collarbones and the chain that glimmers against them. You’re so distracted by staring at him that you nearly miss his words.

“Alright, time to get up!” His smile is wide, voice oddly chipper; a complete one-eighty from his previous mood. But you aren’t fooled by his faux cheer in the slightest. You can see the lingering heat swirling within his eyes, the barely there threat lurking around the curve of his smile. 

“Huh?” You stare up at him, visibly confused and a little uncertain—the high quickly losing its potency and your mind coming back to you fully. He doesn’t blink as he meets your stare, that smile on his face getting the slightest bit wider.

“You’re lookin’ a little sweaty there, so I figured maybe you’re a little hot underneath the covers. Unwrapping yourself seems like a good first step, right? So c’mon, up you get.” 

You swallow when you get what he’s telling you, but your legs refuse to cooperate. They feel like they’re made out of jelly, the way they shake beneath the mean look in your gege’s eyes. Your gege who’s usually so kind and sweet to you seems anything but right now, clearly teasing you in your obvious flustered state. Not to mention, the blanket is hiding the disgusting mess you’ve made of his things. You know he’s going to find out anyway, but a part of you just can’t be the one to reveal how much of a pervert you are. Your shame, your desire, your pain—all of it whirs through your head, warring with one another and causing your hesitation. Your shaky and stiff limbs. The quiet rings out for a few moments as you helplessly look at him, the words stuck behind your teeth. Caleb thoughtfully hums, cocking his head to the side—like he’s thinking really hard on your silence. You both know why you can’t speak, it’s clear he can read it in your expression, but he still waits until you're squirming before he gives you an out. An out that’s accompanied by a truly patronizing look on his face.  

“Ah, I see. I think I understand, you must need gege’s help getting up, right?” He sounds as if he’s talking to a small child; that lilting coo of his voice oozing condescension. Your mind goes blank when he leans forward, his eyes staring down at you, soft and cruel all at once. You feel small all of sudden. Too small to carry all of the different thoughts muddying up your mind. Too small to focus on difficult to explain emotions and urges. Too small to do anything but listen to your gege Caleb. You slowly nod as a subtle haze takes over your mind, and he takes that as blanket permission to reach out.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gege’s here to make everything okay again.” Slowly and watching you carefully, he untangles the blanket from around your body. You’re looking back at him as the fabric slides off and away from your shoulder, so you get a front row seat to the exact moment he catches sight of your lower half. His face goes through rapid-fire changes, too quick for you to catch. But the one he settles on makes your belly go warm, your heartbeat stuttering harshly. Helplessly fond, his lips drop into a more comfortable looking half-smile. A genuinely sweet affection lights up his eyes, momentarily encapsulating the dark look from before.

You flush so hard that you get dizzy from the rush of blood. Why is he looking at you like that? You can’t take it, not when you’re absolutely covered in dried blood, cum, spit and tears. 

“That’s why you’re so upset then, hm? You had an accident while playing in gege’s bed?”

“Caleb!” You get a reprimand in the sound of his teeth kissing the back of his tongue. You whine out a soft ‘gege’ and you're comforted by his warm hand cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the hottest part of your soft skin.

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, you know. Accidents happen sometimes, and you’ve always been a messy girl, even when you try not to be.” He smiles when you shake your head furiously. You open your mouth to show him just how much you disagree with that statement, but you’re stopped when he lightly pats your cheek.

“How about we get you all cleaned up first. You can’t be very comfy covered in all that blood.” Before you can agree or disagree, though, he easily picks you up. You stare, wide eyed, as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom; uncaring about the blood rubbing off onto his shirt and bare skin from touching the inside of the blanket. Like he has no issue with your period blood staining the color of his skin, like you just haven’t seen him be grossed out by less egregious things like wasabi-flavored marshmallows. You think you black out for a moment from the whirlwind of emotions flooding your brain, because the next thing you know, you’re standing on your feet while Caleb starts the shower for you. You blankly stare at his back before you notice something in the corner of your eyes. A second pair of clothes and the last of your tampons sits on the sink, and notably, they’re his clothes rather than yours. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel, and your eyes dart up and away because of it. You meet your own gaze in the mirror above the porcelain bowl in your haste.

There really is no hiding what you were up to, not when your face still reads like you’ve been railed within an inch of your life, eyes glossy and lips bitten red. You watch as your cheeks grow a deeper pink in real time, and you quickly focus on something else when it grows to be too much. You glance at your lower half, flicking between the heavy black swath trailing up the middle of the crotch to the wet droplets pooling underneath your feet. ‘You had an accident while laying in gege’s bed?’ ‘You’ve always been a messy girl.’ Oh you’re going fucking crazy replaying those lines in your head. It feels as if your face is on fire from how hot his voice gets you; how dirty you felt when he called you messy. 

Your attention shifts to Caleb when the abrupt sound of water bouncing off tile startles you. Eyes drawn to the hunch of his shoulders, you follow the bunch and flex of his traps and deltoids as he adjusts the water temp. Your pussy throbs as your eyes trail down the curve of his spine, tracing over every dip and bulge you can see underneath his tank and pants. His feet are bare, and you idly wonder when he got rid of his socks before the sharp echo of his voice snaps you out of your daze.

“Water’s ready. I’m gonna bring in some fresh towels after you hop in, forgot to replace ‘em before I left.” He’s fully facing you now, so you’re able to see the direct aftermath of him carrying you. You feel as if you’re about to combust from the heat boiling beneath your skin, your mouth suddenly filled with so much saliva that you have to swallow. Knowing and seeing are two different things, that’s clear to you when you feel absolutely unhinged at the wild picture Caleb makes.

His hands are streaked with blood all the way up to his forearm, some of the lines rubbing off a watery pink from the shower. The entire lower half of his tank is wet, a few parts darker than the others as your blood starts to dry. You can see how the thin, wet material molds to the outline of his abdomen, able to perfectly trace those deeply cut grooves as he shifts. His pants seem relatively safe, save for the long drips you can see at the bottom of the leg. Then your eyes naturally drop to his feet, and there too are drops and streaks of your blood, and most definitely your cum, splattered across the tops. He shifts his footing slightly, and the vein that briefly pops out disturbs a droplet, which then breaks and curves down to drip onto the floor. 

He doesn’t even seem to care or notice the blood. Actually, he doesn’t seem to care about any of it at all.

“Take as long as you need to, alright? I’m just gonna grab a trash bag and fix up my room before cleaning myself up. Also, I’m not sure when you last ate, but I’m pretty hungry. It’s late for delivery, so I’ll whip us up something to eat after. Maybe we can watch a movie or something if you aren’t too tired?”

Why isn’t he bringing up the obvious? Why is he just looking at you like normal, speaking to you as if he doesn’t know what happened—what you did in his bed. Why is he not grossed out when he’s covered in your fucking period blood; something that is even disgusting to you, and it comes from your body! 

“Just leave all your bloody stuff in the corner right there, I’ll come pick ‘em up when I drop off the towels. I left you some of your tampons, but I noticed you didn’t have anymore? I can make a quick stop at the convenience store, I’m pretty sure they’ve got something to tide you over until the morning.”

You can’t help but look at him like he’s gone insane.

“Why are you being so normal about this?!” You don’t mean to get loud, but you do anyway. Caleb hardly flinches, staring at you with a raised eyebrow. Like you’re the crazy one here for being upset that he isn’t. You can feel the familiar burn of tears and it makes you want to scream. God, you fucking hate being on your period—you usually aren’t this emotional. Nor are you this impulsive when it comes to your urges, yet here you are. Trying to face the consequences of your actions, waiting for him to call you out, but he doesn’t. He’s acting like nothing ever happened at all. But the bloody proof is right here in front of you both and it just confuses you even more. His face instantly changes, and he steps a bit closer with his hands raised; like he’s reaching out to comfort you.

“I know it was an accident, pipsqueak. You didn’t mean it.” The soft tone of his voice paired with his gentle smile nearly has you smack him, and seeing that, he changes his hands in a placating gesture instead. But you shake your head a moment later, the anger bleeding into a deep seated guilt. Because you like the way he looks now. With your blood and cum staining his body and clothes. You enjoy the fact that you’ve bled on him, that you’ve marked him in a way that no other woman will. You’re a complete and utter creep and you need him to see that. Need him to understand, because you don’t deserve to be looked at with so much affection…with so much love. You blow out a shaky breath. You know what you’ve got to do; even if it’ll make you feel so much worse, you just have to get him to realize that you’re weird. Hastily, before you can lose your nerve, you step forward and crowd against Caleb until you’re pressed close together. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t move away from you. You grip the necklace dangling in between his pecs, tugging until he’s forced to bend down to your level. 

“How do you know I didn’t mean it?” You ask quietly, the tips of your noses barely touching as his hair gently brushes against your forehead. The expression on his face falters and you feel how he tenses against you. You swallow, but continue despite how sick you are with nerves.

“How…how are you so sure that it was an accident, that I’m embarrassed because I feel sorry about what I did?” 

“Pips—”

“Because I don’t. Feel sorry, that is. I’m not at all, in fact, I like the fact that you caught me. I like the fact that you’ve got my…my fluids smeared all over you. Like you’ve been marked by me, as if I have any right to claim you as mine.” You choke on the rush of words spilling from your mouth, raising your palm to cover Caleb’s mouth when it looks like he’ll speak again. His eyes bore into you, his pupils blown wide enough to leave only a thin ring of purple surrounding it. 

“S’really gross, gege. I’m really gross! I’m a disgusting, perverted freak and you shouldn’t be so nice to me when I completely ruined your clothes and your blanket! Do you know that I’m wearing a pair of your underwear? That I made such a mess because I couldn’t stop myself from jerking off in your bed? That I lost control because I’ve missed you so much and being surrounded by your things drove me insane? If I had just been normal, or if I’d have ran to the bathroom, then none of this would’ve happened. I’m the literal worst, you know I am.” You ignore the fact that he’s now walking you backwards, hands guiding you by your shoulders as you babble, lost in a haze of self-pity. You run out of steam when he presses your back against the wall, and you jolt when the chill seeps through the back of his hoodie. You peer up at him with watery eyes when he wraps one of his hands firmly around your wrist. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pulls your hand away from his mouth. 

You watch him silently, not even trying to put up a fight. What’s the point in fighting now that your shame is out in the open?

“You are not the worst, so stop saying that.” His voice is rough; quiet and ragged in a way that means he’s trying his best to stay in control. Your heart throbs hearing the strain, and you freeze when he raises his other hand to gently touch the bottom of your face. The look in his eyes is intense; something so tenderly affectionate, yet deeply consuming. It’s a look you’ve seen in glimpses, but never fully directed at you when you’re like this—vulnerable and oh so small beneath his large hands and looming figure. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to turn away from that unbearably complex look in his eyes, but he keeps you in place with his fingers at the edge of your chin. You can feel the intense stare he’s giving you, and as much as you want to avoid it, you just inherently know that you can’t. Nothing you ever do escapes Caleb, and this is no different. So, reluctantly, you open your eyes and meet his stare.

He gives you a lopsided smile.

“No one gets to be mean to you, including yourself.” You sigh and roll your eyes a bit, acting as if your entire face isn’t on fire. As if you don’t feel warm butterflies fluttering within the space in your belly hearing him say that.

“Besides,” he trails off, your attention snapping back to him when you hear the heavy tone to his voice. His eyes are half-lidded, the fingers on your chin gently trailing down the side of your neck. He’s watching the path the calloused pads of his fingers trace, eyes growing darker when his nails cause goosebumps to arise along your skin.

“I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I were to judge you.” The idea clicks in your mind faster than you can truly comprehend, and automatically, your eyes drop to his waist. He was careful to keep a distance between your bottom halves, and now you know the reason why. The bulge that greets you is prominent and big; big enough for your cunt to clench around your tampon when you try and imagine taking it inside of you.

“...” You open and close your mouth, your face heating up so quickly that you feel lightheaded. You can hardly believe what you’re seeing, but it’s as clear as day in front of you. Your eyes flick up to Caleb’s, teeth snagging on the fat of your lower lip when you see the rising flush spreading across his cheeks and nose. It’s oddly cute and it’s not an expression you’re used to seeing on him. 

“So just relax, okay? There’s nothin’ to get worked up over. S’just you and me here. And you know I’ll always take care of you, no matter what you need me to do.” The unspoken implication within his words makes your already thumping heart race all the faster. He can’t…is he..? A part of you wants to deny what he’s saying; deny what he’s trying to tell you. But that part is small compared to the needy ache welling up behind the space of your ribcage. 

“...you mean you want this, you want me—”

“Always.” The subtle tinge of desperation you can detect momentarily blindsides you, and you don’t bother stopping your words anymore when it fully registers in your mind.

“Even when I’m..I’m on my—?” You jerk your head to gesture at your lower half. Caleb hums softly, leaning forward while bringing your hand to rest on his chest. You can feel the rapid pound of his heartbeat as he cages you against the wall, pressing his free arm to rest above your head.

“You think a lil mess like that is gonna scare me away, pipsqueak?” 

You shake at the cajoling tone of his voice, brain going a little empty at the look he gives you. The fingers gently grazing your flushed skin shifts to the heavy drag of his palm as he cups the underside of your neck. You can feel the rapid flutter of your pulse as it beats a harsh rhythm through your jugular, eyes glued to his face as he brings himself closer.

“I’ve always cleaned up after you before, haven’t I? What makes this time any different?”

“Gege, I’m too old to–!”

“You’re never too old for gege to take care of.” He dismisses easily, and you have no rebuttal to the utter surety to his voice. 

“...you seriously want to…?” You have to ask again, have to make sure that you aren’t losing your marbles. As repetitive and annoying it has to be to say the same things over and over again. Caleb reassures you with ease, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. You lean into the pressure, eyes closing when you feel the warm puffs of his breath as they brush against your skin.

“Just wanna take care of you, baby. In whatever way you need me to.”

It clicks for you, then. That Caleb is serious about what he says—is serious about taking care of you in that way. You groan low in your throat at the realization, wordlessly wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling yourself further into his chest. You feel his breath stutter when you press close, his already hot temperature rising as you rest your cheek against his. Neither of you speak as he slips his hands down to rest on your waist, the only signal for his sudden movement the slight shift of his feet before he picks you up. You gasp, fingers grasping the rounded out muscles of his biceps as he curls his hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs and slotting his waist in between them. He presses close, and your hips instinctively buck against the pressure rubbing against your cunt, legs wrapping around his waist to lock at the small of his back.

Could you really have this?

Is he really going to give this to you?

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, crossing your arms behind his shoulders and squeezing tight.

“...help me.” You whisper, curling your hands into fists. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you aren't sure if you’re terrified or excited; maybe a bit of both, if you’re being completely honest. 

“Help you with what?” He asks, and you want to scream at how calm he sounds, at how he’s forcing you to verbalize what you want.

“Gege—!” You whine, pointedly rocking your hips forward to convey what exactly you want. But it’s clear he’s having none of it, stilling your movements with the use of his Evol. The pressure is gentle but firm as he holds you back, a casual kind of dominance that has you stifle a moan within the sweaty and warm skin of his throat.

“You’re a big girl, right? So be good for me and use your words. Tell me what you need.”

You shake in his arms, your entire body going hot at the sound of his voice. The tone of voice he uses when he’s scolding you, like you’re some unruly little kid in need of a stern talking to. You feel so small, then. Too big for the shame keeping your desires lodged in your throat. Too big to worry about right and wrong when your gege is here now, willing to give you what you want if you just open your mouth and ask. So what’s holding you back, then, if you let all of your worries fade? If you follow your gege’s lead, everything will be alright because he’s never steered you wrong before.

“Need…need you to touch me, gege.” You almost sob, nails digging into your palms as you spill your guts. “Need you to make it stop hurting; need you to fuck me.” 

“Yeah?” The hands on your thighs tighten, his voice growing rougher as he pulls you against him; bugle rubbing against your through your layers. You whimper, biting your lip as you desperately try to move. But his Evol has you stuck, clamping down and keeping your body in place.

“Please, gege, please fill me up—” You gasp when he groans and hefts you higher into his arms. This dislodges you from his neck. so you’re forced to stare at him as he swiftly pivots and heads towards the still running shower. The tops of his cheeks are flushed a warm pink, and his eyes look dark underneath the overhead lights as he clears the short distance in mere seconds. You can’t seem to stop the flow of your whimpering pleas as you tilt forward, whining into his ear and rubbing up against him as he moves. It’s driving you crazy how much you want him inside you. More fluid—a mix of blood and slick—gushes out to wet your pants, and you can feel it leak onto Caleb as he slides the shower door open.

His dick twitches against you in the confines of his pants as he steps into the shower, fingers digging into your thighs tight enough for you to feel it. You shiver when the heat envelops you, your already warm body getting hotter as the warm spray pelts your skin and clothes. Within moments the clothes you’re wearing stick to your body, but that becomes unimportant to you when Caleb presses you against the wall again. He keeps you there with the use of his Evol, your legs bent at the knee and spread out. You whine when he shifts back to look at you, freezing to stare unblinkingly at your position. The line of his jaw goes tight, and you see his shoulders move as he inhales deeply. You try to beg him to come closer to you, of course, not wanting to be apart for a second, but your complaints die on your lips when he grabs his tank from the back. He slips it up and off his head, rivulets of pink-tinted water smearing through the blood covering him and tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Absently, you hear the distant wet ‘smack’ as it lands on the ground, but you’re too focused on the way that glinting silver chain sways against the sharp dip of his collarbones  as he steps closer to you.

“You sure about this, [✦]?” The sound of your name is jarring, and you snap your eyes up to meet his. He’s serious as he regards you, his hands hovering over you as if waiting for your permission to undress you. You swallow at the weight in his gaze. It’d be intimidating, you think, if you weren’t so keyed up and ready for him to touch you. If you couldn’t see how excited he is for you, as much as you’re excited for him. 

“Mhm, want you so bad, gege. Please, please touch me.” You feel tears bead at the corners of your eyes, the need coursing through you itching at your skin painfully. His expression softens at your words and he wastes no time in crowding closer, cupping the side of your face with one of his large hands. He gently brushes them away with his thumb, bending down so close that you feel his breath puff against your parted lips. The look in his eyes is intense; so many emotions flitting through his eyes too fast for you to catch. All you know is that your heart is quaking within your chest, a dizziness flooding your mind as his eyes drop to your lips. 

“Okay.” His voice is almost lost within the steady pitter-patter of the water beating along the shower tiles, and for a moment, all you two do is stare at each other. The tension is thick between you two, growing thicker as one beat passes, then two, then three, until he finally moves.

Your eyes close when his lips meet yours, and it feels like fireworks are going off behind your eyelids. His lips are chapped, but still soft and warm as they move against you; the hand cupping your cheek titling your head for a better angle. You eagerly try and reciprocate as much as you can stuck in place by his Evol, cunt tightening when you hear him groan into your mouth. The kiss gets messier as he plasters himself to you, his other hand landing on your leg as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You instinctively open your mouth wide, keening when his tongue slips in. He explores your mouth, almost cautiously at first. As if he’s trying to be gentle and ease you into more intense kisses. Soon, though, that restraint seems to waver the longer you’re pressed against each other. Your own mind is barely hanging on by a thread, hips uselessly jerking forward, trying so hard to rub your achy clit against him and scratch that itch inside of you. But he isn’t close enough for you to, hips resting just barely out of reach. Uncontrollable whines fall from your mouth, muffled but constant as you two meet again and again, need lighting you up from the inside and turning your brain to mush.

By the time he pulls away from you long enough to breathe, your pants are soaked with more than just water. This entire time blood and slick have been leaking out of you, staining the already ruined sleep pants and sticking them uncomfortably to your skin. You try and wiggle, wanting to take your clothes off but mind too lost to really come up with a coherent thought. Caleb’s chest heaves as he looks at you, the hand on your cheek trailing down to rest at the base of your throat; the other slides further inward, stopping just shy of where the bloody crotch of your pants begins.

“Want these off?” One look at your face and he seems to know what you want without hesitation. You can only nod in confirmation, shakily breathing out when he repositions himself. Eyes flicking from your face to your body, slowly, he begins undressing you. He strips off the hoodie first, and you only realize that you’re not wearing anything underneath a split second before he gets it off you. He tosses the drenched fabric to the side, landing in a nearby corner with a pathetic ‘squelch’ you could hear even above the harsh spray of the water. It makes you wince a little, embarrassment flooding your belly with butterflies when your eyes flick to the hoodie and back to Caleb. Your heart thumps almost painfully in your chest when you see where his eyes are at; glued to your chest and the sway of your tits as you breathe. The look on his face sends a pulse of heat racing through your body down to your throbbing cunt, arms twitching to come up and cover yourself, but staying in place underneath the weight of his Evol.

“Gege!” You whine at him, needing to say something to get him to actually move. Needing something to distract you from the burning of your cheeks. Your voice comes out louder than you intended, though, echoing off the tiled walls and leaving a faint ring in your ears. He blinks, as if snapping out of a trance. Inhaling another deep breath, he brings his eyes up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth curling into a small smile. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of the sweats clinging to your legs, leaning down to buss a kiss to the side of your temple. His Evol releases your legs and they fall limply to hang, though your feet still don’t touch the ground as he keeps your upper half glued to the white tile.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just too pretty for me to ignore, baby. Can’t help but get distracted.” You shiver when he ducks further down to speak into your ear, your eyes locked onto his hands as his knuckles press into the wet skin of your tummy. With your lower half now free, you squirm and buck your hips. The feeling of the clothes sticking to your skin is starting to make you upset, and you need them off of you right now.

“Hurry up and take ‘em off, gege. I don’t like how they stick to me—s’gross.” You wiggle around some more, but stop when he chuckles and pushes his knuckles against your belly.

“Alright, alright. Settle down and be just a little more patient for me, okay?” 

You groan, but do as he says, stilling your jerking hips with a slight pout. He places a kiss on the tip of your ear, leaning his head against yours for a moment before he moves. You watch as he slowly peels the wet fabric down your hips, fingers snagged into the waistband of his boxers as he goes. The weight of his stare is heavy and present as more and more of your lower half is revealed, and your eyes widen when he starts to crouch down and follow the path of his hands. It ends with him resting his knees on the tile, pants and underwear pooling at your ankles while he stares up at you. 

You want to look away from him—don’t want to maintain eye contact when you’re entirely bare before him, with him so close to you and the disgusting mess in between your legs. But you also can’t look away from the expression on his face. The naked hunger as he slides your ankle from the pile on the ground, bending your leg until it rests on his shoulder. He does the same for your other, and before you know it, you’re completely spread open for him to view; his face level with your cunt. There’s still some space between you two, but it’s clear that he intends to close it as he leans forward. It makes you clench down again on the tampon inside of you, and you panic when you realize you have to remove it still. You’re speaking before you can stop yourself.

“W-wait!” 

He immediately freezes in place, eyes creasing in concern as he glances up at you.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to stop?”

You bite your lip, legs twitching with the need to close and hide yourself. Stupid of you to get so carried away that you didn’t think about how exactly you were going to do this. You need to take your tampon out, as well as wash away the dried mess sticking to your inner thighs. Most of it was wiped away from the water, but a few stubborn spots still faintly tint your skin. You can’t just jump into everything right away without taking care of that…right?

“C’mon, talk to me, pipsqueak. If you need a break, or if you need me to stop we can. I won’t be upset.”

He’s so earnest and reassuring that your nerves immediately lessen. You breathe out slowly and shake your head.

“N-no, no. That’s not…no I want this. It’s just…” You groan when the words get stuck in your throat. Your hands twitch with the need to to touch him, to try and ground yourself so you can explain. Something must show on your face because the worried lines of his face ease and you suddenly have the use of your upper torso again. Your entire weight now rests on his shoulders, and your reach out to lace your fingers through his wet hair. You use one hand to slick it back and away from his face, your other dropping to cup his cheek. He doesn’t move any closer to you, but he does lean into the grip you have on his face. You watch him for a few beats longer before quietly getting out your thoughts.

“...gotta take it out, b-before we do anything. Y’know, my…” His eyes widen a bit, and they flick to the place in between your legs for a moment before they return to your face.

“That’s all?” He asks and you nod. “You still wanna do this, then?” You nod again, vigorously enough to make you slightly dizzy. His laugh is so quiet that you almost miss it, but you do see the endeared amusement on his face that has your face feeling unbearably hot. 

“Alright.” He looks contemplative for a moment as he stares at you, something forming behind his eyes as his hands come up to rest on the outside of your thighs. Your breath stutters past your lips when he inches forward. He doesn’t break his gaze away from yours as one of his hands slide along the plush fat of your thigh, following along until he ends up gripping the curve of your asscheek. Your hand slips from his cheek and you anchor both of them to the strands of his wet hair, eyes wide. He hums, eyes going half lidded as he shifts so that he’s closer to your cunt, cheek brushing against one of your thighs.

“You want me to help you?” You make a startled noise, jerking when his fingers lightly squeeze your cheek, fingers dragging down until they meet the crease between your thigh and ass. You shiver at the look he gives you, genuine with an underlying darkness that excites you in a way you think should scare you. Like he’s almost…enjoying the idea of taking it out of you. You somehow get even more flustered at the thought, your voice coming out weak as you protest.

“I can do it myself, gege. You don’t need to…” It's hard for the words to pass through your lips, voice growing faint as his eyes grow wide and puppyish—as if he’s trying to plead with you.

“Mhm, I know that you can, but do you want to? Don’t you want gege to take care of it for you?” He trails his fingers up higher, closer to your cunt as he watches you, waiting for your answer. You want to say no, but how can you when confronted with that face? Your hesitancy crumbles within seconds, and you give him a nod as you avert your eyes from his. He doesn’t push for a verbal answer, and even though you refuse to watch him actually do it, that doesn’t mean that you can completely ignore what’s going on. 

You can feel his fingers as they gently graze the outside of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for, and you jolt with a whimper when you feel him tug it out of you. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel blood rush out as the tampon leaves you. You have no idea what he actually does with it, but you refuse to even look in his direction or ask. Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to describe the tumultuous feelings bubbling within your gut. So many conflicting emotions are spinning around in your mind, and it blinds you a little to your surroundings. So it takes you completely by surprise when you feel his fingers return to your cunt, rubbing along the slick skin of your folds until they meet the edge of your hole.

Your eyes pop open with a startled gasp, fingers tugging at his hair in your shock. Snapping your head down to look at Caleb, you notice he’s already looking back at you and when your eyes lock. He traces around your hole, teasing you with the idea of entering but never fully committing to it. You rut your hips forward, trying to catch the tip of his fingers, but he easily evades it, a small smile curling at his lips. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, but he’s far enough away from your cunt you can’t feel his breath. You don’t know if you want him closer or not, or so you tell yourself.

“Eyes on me, okay? If you look away, I'll stop.” And before you can even react to that, he slips his finger inside of you. Your nails dig into his scalp when you feel the thickness of his finger glide against your walls, a whimper falling past your parted lips as your cunt clenches down tightly. He groans low in his throat, teeth digging into his lower lip as he pulls his finger out. You don’t have to wait long at all until he slides back in, slow and searching as he turns his head to plant messy kisses along your thigh. He eyes you still, nipping at your skin with his teeth when he brushes against a spot that has your legs twitching where they hang on his shoulders, back arching from the pleasure skirting down your spine. 

“There we go.” He murmurs, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when one finger turns into two, the coil forming in your belly getting tighter. You're leaking so much that you begin to hear it over the loud spray of the water, a consistent ‘squelch, squelch, squelch’ as water, blood and slick wet his fingers. Your mind is completely filled with the stretch of his fingers, the rush of pleasure as it drowns out your shame and embarrassment. You buck into his hand with a loud moan, tears pooling along your waterline as you try to keep your eyes on him. It’s hard to meet that stare directly, but you force yourself to. You don’t think you could take it if he stopped now, not when you’ve been thinking about this for so long.

But you want more. Want more than the steady pace he keeps with his two fingers. You need something bigger, something to really give you the stretch you so desperately crave.

“Gege, please, want—” You choke on a whimper when he scissors his fingers on the pull out before slipping back in, brushing against that spot once again.

“Mhm, what do you want? Talk to me.” 

Except when you go to open your mouth, all that comes out is another loud groan when he scissors his fingers, inserting a third digit that has you tugging at his hair again. You can barely speak as he fucks you with his fingers, teeth and lips leaving marks all over your thigh. You tug at his hair, trying to get him to stop so you can breathe, but that seems to only egg him on. He hisses into your skin, teeth digging in hard as his fingers thrust in and out of you faster. It’s driving you insane to feel this way, the heat boiling beneath your skin turning your thoughts to mush. Water droplets fall into your eyes, and you blink them away quickly, lips parting with a loud whine when you feel the barest hints of his fourth finger lightly stretch your hole. You nearly scream when your back arches sharply, the tight coil suddenly snapping as your orgasm rushes through you like a wave. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your thighs clamping down around his neck as you shake uncontrollably.

“Thaaat’s it, baby. There we go, lemme have it.” Caleb groans into the skin of your thighs, fingers stilling in their thrusts, instead focusing on rubbing at the fleshy spot inside of you that milks your orgasm for longer. The pleasure lighting you up from the inside seems to go on for an eternity, slick and hot fluid gushing out of your cunt and wetting his fingers and your skin as he continues to work you over. You quickly grow sensitive, but if anything, your hips jerk into his fingers, body and mind still craving more even when you start to squeal from overstimulation. You don’t even realize you’re chanting the words ‘more more more gege please gimme more’, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as you clench around the thickness of his fingers. 

You jolt back into awareness when your legs are roughly spread open and are pressed into the water-warmed tile behind you. It’s an awkward position for you, your entire lower half exposed from the depth of the stretch, a muscle in your leg twitching as your thighs make contact with the wall. The blood and cum coating your skin and the hair on your pussy gets cleaned off by the warm shower spray, the water making you shiver as it glides across your sensitive body. You blink the mix of water and tears out of your eyes, watching as Caleb stands up to his full height, face a deep-seated mask of hunger and need. 

There are traces of new blood flecked along his skin, most of it centering on the fingers of his right hand of course. You even notice a few splotches along the dips of his chest, at the corner of his jaw and dripping down his happy trail to stain the band of his pants. It should make you feel disgusted, but your arousal only grows as you see some of your blood streak with water from the shower. 

“...one more.” You barely can make out his mumbled words before he’s advancing towards you, one hand cupping the underside of your jaw and tilting your face up, the other immediately falling between your spread legs to land on your throbbing clit. The first touch of his fingers has your entire body flinching, an almost inhumanly guttural moan exiting from your open mouth when he mercilessly begins to rub. You quickly find that your arms are free when they reach up to wrap around his shoulders, your nails digging into the corded muscle. 

“Give me one more and I’ll fuck you, okay? Need to, fuck, need to see you come like that again.” He pants into your mouth, nose to nose as he touches your clit, eyes feverishly desperate as he damn near begs you. You can only sob out in answer, tears blurring your vision when the pressure starts to build up within you again. Faster, this time, and all the more intense as you’re forced to just take what he’s giving you, your lower half held so tightly that you have no chance of running away from the wave rolling through you. And it bulldozes right into you, your voice pitching into a scream and cracking halfway through, bloody red welts left on his shoulder blades by your nails as more tears stream down your face.

You hiccup when his fingers gentle their movements, shivers traveling up your spine when he slides his fingers down the seam of your cunt. He litters your face with kisses; trailing them across your lips and cheeks, to the corners of your eyes and your forehead, even placing one on the tip of your nose. Breathless and wanting, he murmurs little encouragements into the kisses he gives you. ‘Good job, baby’ and ‘You did so well for me’ and ‘Good girl’. All of them serve to turn your mind into slush, a perfect way to distract you as he slowly inserts two of his fingers back into the tight clutch of your pussy. You weakly jolt when you feel it, brain melting out of your ears as he stretches you as wide as he can on his fingers.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Gave gege exactly what he asked for. So beautiful when you break apart under me. ” He plants a tender kiss near the corner of your lips, staring down at you with a crazed, love-drunk expression that makes your heart thump inside of your chest, a feeling so profound and deep that it makes you ache.

“Gege…” Your voice barely carries through the noise of the water, but the shape of your mouth says it all. He offers you a lopsided smile, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours.

“Still want me?”

You don’t even have to think before you’re nodding your head up and down, garbled pleas falling from your lips as you try to push yourself closer.

“Yes, yes, please, gege, please—” He shushes you with a fond huff, thrusting his finger in one last time before pulling them out.

“Relax, alright? Gege’s gonna take care of you, just be patient. Can you be a good girl and wait?”

“Mhm, I can, I can.”

He hums and gives you a quick peck before backing away slightly. The hand on your jaw falls down to touch the waistband of his pants, and between one blink and the next, he’s completely tossed his bottoms off and you finally get to see what’s underneath. Your pussy clenches when you realize just how fucking huge he is; thick enough that your hand would just barely wrap around him fully and long. There’s a definite weight to the flushed shaft of his cock, hanging low even when he’s fully hard. A gush of slick leaks out of you, sliding down your cunt and the curve of your ass before the shower washes it away. 

You want him so bad you think you’d actually die if he doesn’t get inside of you soon. You try your best to stay still and listen to your gege, but it’s hard when all you want to do is sink down on his cock; fuck yourself on it so hard that your mind fucking breaks from the pleasure of it.

“That’s a nice expression you’ve got there, pipsqueak.” 

The grin in his voice is dark and smug, but you can’t even be mad at him for it because he’s earned it, in your opinion. Still, though. That doesn’t make handling the embarrassment any easier.

“Please…please don’t tease me. I’ve been good, right? I’ve been so good for you, gege, please fuck me.” You reach out your arms to him, a pleading look on your face as your lips tremble with the strain of not whining and crying out like a baby. You’re so close to doing just that it’s not even funny anymore. It’s all worth it, though, when Caleb easily caves and moves back toward you, his dick meeting the side of his thigh with a loud ‘smack’. A broken moan falls from your lips at the sound, and you think you have a bit of an out of body experience because the next thing you’re aware of Caleb’s face is close to yours. One of his hands is gripping your inner thigh, the other on the base of his cock. 

“You ready?”

You truly don’t have the breath capacity to voice your agreement, not when you can feel the blazing heat of his bare skin seep through your own. You make some kind of squeak-grunt, because he slowly starts to rub himself against your cunt. Your eyes are glued to the way your blood covers his shaft, clumps and long strings of your cum spreading along the multiple veins you can see. It’s gross, it’s so fucking distgusting but you can’t help that it gets you even wetter, more fluids leaking out and smearing on his skin.

“Eyes on me.” He says, but he doesn’t wait for you to follow, simply using the force of his Evol to tip your head up.

“Deep breath, okay?” You nod and do as he tells you, bracing yourself for the stretch when you feel the tip of his meaty cock slide down to your hole. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again, chest heaving as you both watch him move.With your blood and cum slicking the way, he slowly eases his dick past the tight ring of your hole. Nothing, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer girth of his cock as he slides deeper, stretching you so wide that you think you’re being split open. Your breath knocks out of you with a wheeze, lips falling open; overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feeling igniting your nerve endings. Your fingers drag down his shoulders to his chest, your back arching as far as it can go. Your entire head would have bumped against the wall if not for Caleb’s Evol. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes inside you, bullying his way through your clenching walls as you sit there and take it. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters, voice choked as the grip he has on your thigh turns bruising. Like he can’t help but lose control. You pussy grips him harder at those words, causing him to let out a bitten off curse as he fully seats himself in you. The tip brushes against something in you that has a ragged moan tumbling from your lips, going cross-eyed as your fingers scrambling at his chest when Caleb shifts minutely. 

You come.

It’s unexpected, how strongly your orgasm barrels into you. A surprise because you didn’t even realize you were close again, but here you are; a shrill scream leaving your mouth as your cunt clamps down so tight on his cock that you feel as if you’re sucking him in deeper; so deep that he has no choice but to stay within the wet warmth of your pussy for forever. You have no idea how long the wave lasts that time, everything around you becoming utterly meaningless in the face of such an overwhelming emotion. Coming back to yourself later, you blink the spots out of your vision, tears falling down your cheeks as you fight to breathe. He’s so…big; big enough that you’re positive you can feel him in your throat and you whimper when you can feel the scorching heat of him twitch inside of you.

Blearily blinking the last of the colors out of your eyes, you turn your attention to Caleb. He’s standing stock still, the hand that was guiding him now resting on your other thigh. His eyes are squeezed shut, lip stuck underneath his teeth as his entire frame subtly shakes. Veins bulging as a flush coloring his cheeks, it’s clear that he’s trying his best to give you time to adjust, to recover from your fifth orgasm of the night. But you don’t want that—you want him to fuck you, regardless of your current sensitivity.

“Gege…gege it's okay. Just—fuck, please move I’m ready, I promise—” You gasp when he suddenly looms over you, his eyes dark as the grip on your thighs turn harsh.

“You’ve gotta be sure, baby. I don’t know if I can hold back once I’ve started, so please,” He groans out when you clench down on him, “wait if you need to. I don’t mind.”

You whine and shake your head. You physically can’t wait any longer. Not when you can feel him like this.

“No, no, I promise I’m ready. It’s all I ever wanted, please don’t make me wait any longer, gege, please.”

You can physically see the moment he snaps. 

“Don’t cry about it later then.”

And then he’s lifting your thighs in his wide and warm palms, pulling them up so that they rest on his chest. Your knees hook over his shoulders as he folds you in half, squishing you against the tile. It’s a tight squeeze and unbearably hot as your breaths mingle together, your arms bent at the elbows and stuck in the valley of your tits. But you don’t mind the position, not when you can feel all of him press into you, wet skin against wet skin. How can you care that you can barely breathe when you can feel how much deeper his cock gets in you? He shifts his feet, and the movement has you keening out loudly when the tip stabs into your cervix. He grunts out something too low for you to understand, but that all falls to the wayside when he plants his hands on the wall next to your head and really begins to move.

‘Plap plap plap plap’

Over and over and over again, the tip of his cock pounds against your cervix, the sound of his thighs meeting your ass loud and lewd combined with the moans you emit, but the noises he makes are even worse than that. He doesn’t stop talking to you as he fucks you against the wall, mouth pressed to your ear saying things so dirty and unlike the kind gege you know that it makes your head spin.

“Feel so good wrapped around me, baby. So warm and wet and fuckin’ tight.”

“She’s even better than I, ngh, imagined–fuck. You like that, pipsqueak? Like hearing how much I’ve thought about bending you over and wrecking this cute little pussy of yours?”

“Messy little girl, you’re leakin’ all over me. Hear that, baby?” ‘Squelch.’ “Y’hear how much she likes the way gege fills her up?”

It’s all too much for your brain to handle, embarrassment and arousal tangling up the wires in your mind. All you can do is take whatever your gege gives you, crying and moaning and whining as he repeatedly plunges the tip of his cock into the one spot that sends sparks lighting across your vision. You can tell he’s getting close when the filth spewing from his lips grows a lot more sweet, the pound of his hips growing faster and off-rhythm.

“You feel like a dream, baby. Sucking me in so fuckin’ good and moanin’ so pretty for me.”

“Never gonna let you go ever, ngh. Not when this is all I ever wanted—when this is all I ever needed.”

“You’re all gege’s, right? All for gege to look after, to make you feel good. All for gege to love.”

You feel as if your heart is about to burst out of your chest, your ears ringing with his words as tears fill your vision. He…he loves you? Like, like—

“Gege–!” You cry out, needing to see his face. You have to—you can’t say anything back until you do.

Without skipping a beat, Caleb raises himself up and meets your stare, bare and open in front of you. There’s no fake cheer or mean glint. All you see is Caleb to his barest and most pure form, stripped down to nothing but the deep love and affection in his eyes.

“I love you too, gege. Love you so much.” Your voice cracks over the words, tears dripping down your cheeks as you demand him with your eyes to come closer. And he does, easily engulfing you in his entirety. He drags his lips across your cheeks and lips, sharing breaths as he stares at you like you’re some cosmic wonder. Like you’re everything he’s ever dreamed of. He mumbles ‘I love you’ over and over again like a mantra, eyes going glassy and unfocused as his thrusts become more and more erratic. It takes one, two, three more pumps and it’s over for him. You feel it as his hips stutter and his face slackens, eyes fluttering shut as he leans his forehead against yours. Warm and thick cum fills you to the brim, mixing with the blood and slick. The sounds are absolutely filthy, but you feel anything but when his lips press against yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve shared all night. Your cunt squeezes even tighter around him once that thought settles, something that forces him to let out a high-pitched whimper that you’ve never heard him make before. It makes you proud, then. That you could wring such a vulnerable noise out of your gege. Groaning, he drops his head to your shoulder and allows your legs to fall and wrap around his waist. Using his Evol, he sets the both of you down gently on the shower floor, turning off the water and allowing you two to breathe in a calm quiet.

“...You mean it, baby?”

You don’t hesitate to answer, despite your throat feeling dry and achy.

“I mean it. Love you so much, gege. So, so much.” 

He laughs, light and wondrous as he squeezes you in his arms, peppering more kisses along your sweaty hairline. You giggle with him, so, so tired yet so happy as you snake your arms around his torso and lean against him. As crazy as these circumstances are…you are glad that you were able to finally bridge that gap between the two of you.

Even if you had to expose a side of yourself you’d never expect to show.

abrupt ending is abrupt :D no but seriously this is sooooo crazy like, i'm still in shock that i've written this much for this idea; but i actually really ended up putting some of my personal feelings/experiences in this and it was kinda cathartic i'm ngl; now, if you'll excuse me, i think i'm just gonna go hide under a rock while i deal with all the emotions this made me feel ^^

[0wlettie]

sfw, fluffy, dogboy!caleb thoughts pt.I (link to series), wc 1.7k

dogboy!caleb who’s grown up in the adoption system; who’s prone to moodiness and isolation because of the things he’s endured and seen. who’s a few years older than the other hybrid kids at the agency, and knows the difference between a good family and a bad one. he doesn’t want to get hurt again, has been in too many households that treat him like garbage. so he watches and he waits, and waits, and waits until he can find the perfect household for him.

dogboy!caleb who you meet at the hybrid adoption agency on your ninth birthday. because of your macabre interest in horror (your grandma can’t tell the difference between kid friendly cartoons and adult themed anime, and you quickly grew to love the different dvds and tapes she would rent for you on the weekends) the kids at your school have deemed you too ‘weird and scary’ to get close too. you’re lonely because of it, and growing moody, you isolate yourself in your room, delving deeper into the genre behind your grandma’s back. worried about that heavy fog hanging around you, she thinks that getting you a friend in a hybrid is the best way to help.

dogboy!caleb who takes a good look at the people requesting to interview him that day. an older lady and what looks to be her grandkid meet him in the playroom, and it's obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re nervous; hiding your entire body behind the wide drape of your grandma’s skirt. he can only see the barest hints of dark curls pinned into pigtails, and only because they're so big that they peek out from behind your hunched over grandmother.

dogboy!caleb who is willing to give this family a shot, layers on the friendly cheer, greeting the both of you with a wide smile and a soft tone. it instantly puts everyone at ease, even you. hesitant but visibly curious, you peek around your grandma's legs. he catches wide eyes behind even wider lenses before your get spooked and hide again. he and the adults laugh, and it doesn't feel forced to him like usual. he finds your shyness cute, a bit refreshing from the rowdy crowd that usually bothers him at the adoption center.

dogboy!caleb who watches as your grandma nudges you a little, and your tiny voice mumbles a half-hearted introduction. it's quiet even to his enhanced hearing, so it's unsurprising when your grandma huffs and lightly scolds you. he tries to keep his expression open and inviting after your grandma gives you another pointed nudge and gently pulls you from behind her.

dogboy!caleb who notices your height at first. you’re so small compared to him, just barely coming up to the middle of his chest if he were to measure it out. your hair is pulled into two large pigtails, held by two cute panda scrunchies and you've still got your school uniform on. you nervously stare up at him through thick black glasses, and he swears he feels his heart stop the moment his gaze locks with yours.

dogboy!caleb can't stop his tail from wagging even if he tried. your eyes are dark and glossy, and combined with the droopyness of your eyeshape and the faint shadows creasing at the skin beneath, it's a downright lethal combination. you're too cute--way too cute for him to handle. it ignites a protective instinct in him so fierce that it burns him from the inside out, fingers itching with the sudden urge to make the sad gleam in your eyes melt away. 'this is it.' he thinks. he’s found where he wants to be, and he’s gonna make sure that he goes home with you no matter what.

dogboy!caleb who, after being left to chat by the adoption agency chaperone and your grandma, carefully coaxes out your words. it takes a lot of gentle prodding on his part—you’re painfully shy and it’s clear to him that you don’t really know what to say—but he eventually gets you going. small things, like your favorite colors (purple and black), your favorite foods (the fried chicken your grandma makes, as well as the strawberry cake she buys from the bakery down the street), your favorite subject in school (reading because you like to read and it’s the subject you’re really, really good at), until he asks about your favorite movies and shows. he sees how that seems to make you retreat, but before you can fully box him out, he blurts out his own favorite movie to try and make you comfortable; an obscure nothing burger of slasher film that he doesn’t expect you to know about.

dogboy!caleb who can only watch in awe as your moody expression blooms into something incandescently happy. a sparkle twinkles in your eyes, the smile at your lips showing off your slightly sharp lateral incisors. your soft voice gains life as you scoot closer to him, excitedly throwing him rapid-fire questions about the movie. he can only dumbly answer back, eyes unblinking as they stare at your now sunny disposition. on and on and on you talk about your favorite movies and shows—most of them some kind of gore-fest of an anime. you occasionally throw in a few cult classic films, getting even happier when he can tell you his own opinions about them.

dogboy!caleb who gets completely and utterly infatuated with you--more than he was initially. he does everything in his power to win over your grandma when she comes back for her own time to speak with him privately. you’re pouting, upset as you sit by the chaperone a little ways away, picking at your slices of orange as you shoot glances at your grandma and him. he does his best to stay focused, but it’s hard when he meets your eye and you give him an excited little wave and smile, every time, without fail. and maybe something shows on his face when you do, because your grandma chortles. she gets his attention back by telling him that all she’s ever wanted for you was a friend, and she can see that’s what you’ll get if she brings him home with them.

dogboy!caleb who’s nerves are twisting his stomach in knots when you shyly ask for a hug before you two leave. he doesn’t hesitate to agree, barely opening his arms before your careening into his hold. it’ll take at least a few days for all the paperwork to go through, and then after there needs to be all kinds of background checks and safety inquiries before he’s permitted to leave. maybe another month before he’s able to see you again, something that bums you out as you cling to him. a soft rumble vibrates through his chest as he holds you close, lightly nuzzling the top of your head. he takes in your scent then, lightly rubbing his fingers down your shoulders and arms as he does so. he does the same to your grandma when she offers herself for a hug, the nerves in his gut lessening somewhat now that they’re marked by his scent; that you smell like him.

dogboy!caleb who is counting down the days to his adoption, bag already packed and waiting for him to grab. he easily ignores the playful and not-so-playful teasing of the other kids in the bunks. their opinions are worthless to him, and absolutely nothing can kill the excitement he feels at being able to live with you. to be around you and listen to your cute rambles. to see up close how the bright spark of happiness changes the gloomy swoop of your eyes.

dogboy!caleb whose tail wags up a storm when he sees you over a month later, lips pulled into a wide smile when you run up to him and jump into his arms. he barely flinches, wrapping you up and squeezing you until he hears you let out a breathless giggle, fingers playfully tweaking his ears as you rub your cheek against his. he goes to put you down, but you whine and beg him to carry you back to the car. he’s helpless to obey, laughing quietly as he does just that. the embarrassment on your grandma’s face and the amusement on the agency staff greets you both when you do, and he’s happy to note that you don’t seem to care about them as you whisper to him about your secret movie collection.

dogboy!caleb who settles into his room later that night after an amazing home cooked meal, warm and full. his thoughts swirl rapidly around his new home, but most of them are focused on you. how he’ll get to spend the next two days with you since your grandma has to work, and he’s old enough to watch over both of them for a few hours. how you promised to show him all the secret movies and anime you’ve got stashed underneath your bed while you eat breakfast.

dogboy!caleb who blinks when he hears his door open, ears picking up the small shuffle of feet and the soft drag of a blanket. your voice echoes out in a soft whisper after the door creaks open, his tail and ears standing stock still in shock. quickly, though, he affirms that he’s awake and sits up, eyes tracking you easily as you pick your way through the dark. you shyly ask if you can sit in his room with him. you have trouble sleeping, and usually you would go to your grandma, but you figure caleb would be better since she has to work early in the morning and you don’t want to bother her…but he’s totally fine to say no! if it’s too much, you wouldn’t mind at all—

dogboy!caleb who immediately scoots over in his bed, patting his blanket as he invites you in. you make a little happy noise, diving for the open side to his bed. you bump and jostle into him, but he easily rights your fall and pushes you to lay down near the wall. he boxes you in like that, wrapping you in your blanket like a burrito. you try your best to muffle your laughs, but it’s hard for you to when you can tell there’s a smile on his face as he shushes you.

dogboy!caleb who falls asleep listening to your excited whispers, deeply breathing in your comforting scent as you snuggle up closer to him. your grandma later finds the two of you in the morning, you nothing but a dark purple lump in your burrito hold, and caleb with his front facing the door, protective over you even in his sleep.

next episode: pt. II

i had to cut it off here cuz it was getting a little too long for this format i swear i never mean to write this much but there's just something about puppydog caleb that gets me GOING. the brainworms refuse to quit so a part two is coming soon !

edit: if you want to keep up with this story, i have no issues tagging ! but if you do follow me and you don’t have an age in your bio i will block you, i’m sorry but im an 18+ blog despite the fluff and i don’t want minors following me; adding this because i’ve seen an influx of people and i guess they didn’t realize i’ve got rules ;;; so please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

[0wlettie]

sfw, dogboy!caleb thoughts cont. pt.III (pt. I, II), reader pov, gege usage, wc 1.4k

you were dumb to just leave like that. you knew that it was a bad idea to not say anything to caleb, but you just couldn’t take it anymore! the rolling pit of jealousy and anger in your gut forced you to act in the only way you knew how. by retreating into yourself; finding a quiet, calm spot for you to just be. there was a park nearby the school that you would occasionally sneak off to in the past, so you figured that spot was as good as any. and, when caleb inevitably noticed your absence, it would be easy for him to find you there. if you didn’t run into him on the way back home.

except, you didn’t expect there to be someone already there when you hopped over the short rail separating the park from the street. you freeze in your tracks when you notice someone hunched over at the bottom of the slide.

it’s a boy. wearing a high school uniform that’s slightly messy looking, tie missing and the first buttons of his shirt undone. he’s holding a cigarette in his hands, and his eyes flick over to you as he takes a drag of it. nerves settle heavy in your belly and you look at the ground rather than meet his gaze. you…this wasn’t apart of your plan. should you just, leave? it’s the smarter idea, considering the fact that you don’t know this person and you’re just a tiny little girl. but your feet are frozen to the ground, and you can feel the boy’s stare on you as the ambient noises filter in from the street.

‘what’s a little kid like you doing out here alone?’

you flinch when the boy speaks to you, and you struggle to say anything. when it’s clear that you won’t, you hear the boy let out a breathy laugh. you can’t help but compare it to caleb’s, in your mind. how the boy’s nasally chuckle doesn’t sound as nice to listen to as your gege’s.

‘cat got your tongue? aw, don’t be so scared. i don’t bite.’

you glance at the boy, blinking when you see the smile on his face. it’s not a forced expression, judging by the laugh lines you can just barely notice around the curve of his mouth and eyes. but still. there’s something ringing in your head, warning you against getting any closer. so you keep your eyes on him, tensing your body in case you need to make a break for it.

‘…you could. i don’t really know you.’ is all you end up saying, and despite how clipped your words come out, it seems to amuse the other boy. his smile grows wider, and the gleam in his eyes turn a bit more contemplative as he flicks ash to the ground. you flinch when he suddenly stands up, and that warning in your head gets louder when you realize how tall he is.

‘but you could get to know me, right? maybe we can be friends? i’m kai, by the way.’ you watch as the boy—kai—drops his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it absently as he keeps up that same smile. again. there’s nothing outwardly wrong with him. his eyes aren’t mean, the smile on his face is natural and even though he is smoking on a playground, there’s nothing menacing about him that should set you off. but, you still feel uneasy.

you’ve never really been around older boys before. after moving in with your grandma and being essentially shut out by other kids your age, you usually spent your time alone in your room. the only people you interacted with were adults—your grandma, the nice man who owns the bakery down the street, your teachers and the occasional cashier or passer by who nods hello to you and your grandma. so maybe being in the presence of someone other than that was making you nervous?

‘friends…?’ you ask, dubiously.

‘yea, i even introduced myself to you! we’re not complete strangers now, right?’

you nod slowly. well, he did have a point. you quietly tell him your own name, biting your lip when he repeats it back to you. grandma always calls you something sweet like ‘honey’ or ‘dearie’. caleb’s gotten it in his head to call you ‘pipsqueak’, as well as a whole bunch of other silly little nicknames when he’s trying to be playful. you’re not entirely sure if you like hearing kai use your full name like that, it’s honestly kind of weird.

‘okay then, since we’ve got our introductions outta the way, will you mind telling me what you’re doing here by yourself. you aren’t lost, are you?’

you purse your lips. it’s not like kai is trying to intimidate information out of you. neither is he being overtly strange or creepy. maybe you can tell him a little of the truth?

‘no, i’m not lost. just wanted to be alone, s’all.’ you mumble, eyes darting to the swing set you were initially going to hop on. it’s fun, being that high in the air. and the sky is always nice to look at when you just want to forget about things for a little while.

‘hm, i see. don’t you think it’s dangerous for you to be alone here, though?’

you shrug, looking back at the slightly worried set to kai’s face. you relax your tense shoulders after you look. it seems like a genuine expression, and maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to trust others when both caleb and grandma have done their best to warn you about strangers, but kai doesn’t seem like a bad person at all. you’re just, nervous, you guess. about being alone with someone other than your grandma or caleb. it’s only natural that you’re nerves would come off as suspicion. you think so, at least.

‘it’s not that big a deal, i don’t live very far so i’ll head back before it gets too dark.’ ‘or when gege inevitably finds me.’ you think.

‘well, how about i just sit here until you’re ready to leave. it’s not dangerous at this time of day, but i wouldn’t feel like a good guy just leaving a little girl by herself here.’ you blush at the smile he sends you, shyly returning it with a nod. you think the smile sits nicely on his face, but again, you can’t help but compare it to caleb’s. kai is clearly a few years older than caleb, but you still prefer his bright smile rather than the subdued one pointed towards you now. they’re both very nice to look at, though.

‘you can do whatever you want.’ you shrug, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks and keep your cool. you don’t think you come off as nonchalant as you think when kai laughs, but you pretend you don’t hear it as you get ready to head over to the swings. your eyes widen, however, when you catch sight of a familiar face rushing towards you. before you can say anything—maybe shout something to assure caleb that you’re fine and that he doesn’t need to look like that—he’s suddenly there. stepping in between you and kai, you get a quick glimpse of the tight almost painful looking smile on his face before he deliberately blocks the entirety of your body with his own. all you can see is his back, tail stiff and raised, his ears sharp and trained on kai ahead of him.

‘and who might you be, mister?’ caleb asks, though he sounds…off. like he’s trying to be friendly, but the notes fall flat. you swallow, but you shuffle forward to press against his back anyway. caleb is upset, you can see that, but he’d never turn you away…right? if you just explain, then maybe he can relax? maybe he can remove that awful expression on his face if you just tell him that kai isn’t a bad person or anything like that.

‘gege, it’s fine, he’s not trying to—‘ you attempt to peek around his arm, but he moves along with you; reaching a hand back to gently keep you behind him.

‘just let me handle this, okay?’ you press your lips together, wilting a little at the firmness to his voice. you mumble out your agreement, leaning against his back to hide your hot face. you feel stupid. you shouldn’t have left the library like you did. or maybe, you should’ve stayed somewhere closer to the school. caleb is clearly upset, and you hate that you caused him to be that way.

you just hope that he’s not too mad at you. you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if he was.

previous episode: pt. II

next episode: pt. IV

alright, that's the end of part three ! a bit of a different style to this, adding the reader's pov, but i think it's flows decently despite being a lil short. i won't put a time frame on part four, as unfortunately i'm gonna be juggling some other stuff along with this series, so until next time !!

as for those who wanted to be pinged! @thigh-o-saur, @asrasmysoulmate

feel free to lemme know if you also want to be tagged for this series i don't mind making it easier to keep up with updates !

edit: if you want to keep up with this story, i have no issues tagging ! but if you do follow me and you don’t have an age in your bio i will block you, i’m sorry but im an 18+ blog despite the fluff and i don’t want minors following me; adding this because i’ve seen an influx of people and i guess they didn’t realize i’ve got rules ;;; so please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

[0wlettie]

sfw, light angst, gege usage, dogboy!caleb thoughts cont. pt.IV (pt I, II, III), wc 2.6k

dogboy!caleb who sees red when he catches sight of you and the older boy; cheeks red and a small smile on your face as you stare up at him with wide eyes, delicate fingers gripping the straps of your bag as he looks down at you with a half smile, eyes warm with affection. it makes his stomach turn, looking at the picture you two make. an acidic kind of feeling wells up from his chest, and he easily recognizes it as a sick mix envy and possessiveness. he’s jealous, plain and simple. you shouldn’t be looking up at him like that, not when you don’t even know who the boy is. no, those kind of expressions are reserved for caleb and caleb alone.

dogboy!caleb who has to use every bit of self control he has to keep from lashing out at the surprised teenager staring at him, plastering a smile on his face that lets a hint of his teeth show through. it helps when you lean against him, when he can feel the heat of your body seep into the tense muscles of his back. his teeth itch again with the need to bite, and he only barely swallows back a low rumble when the boy recovers and shoots him a smile. like everything is okay and normal when he was just looming over you with that expression on his face.

dogboy!caleb who patiently listens to the boy—kai’s explanation. his nose lets him know that the boy isn’t lying, and you easily confirm when he swivels his head to shoot you a questioning look. he notices the embarrassed flush to your cheeks, the slight tremble to your lips and sheen to your eyes that precedes your crying fits. it sets him on edge again, to have you vulnerable and open in front of a stranger—strangers when kai’s friends meander on over. quickly, before he can growl and bare his teeth at the approaching group, he offers kai a grin full of teeth and thanks him for his help. but, that it’s unnecessary since he’ll be taking you home now. and without waiting for a response, caleb swiftly entangles your fingers together and leads you away from the park. you easily follow him, glancing back at kai one last time before using your shorter legs to try and keep up with caleb’s fast pace.

dogboy!caleb who’s still very much on edge despite having your little hand in his. who wants to hurry home so that he can comfort you, scold you, squeeze you tight and keep you in his arms forever. he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the feeling of seeing you suddenly gone like that. the table empty, like you were never there to begin with. his instincts are screaming at him to find a secure place; to wrap you in blankets and hold you close. to never take his eyes off you again so that you’ll be safe. safe from pretty boy strangers who are too old to be talking to you, never mind the fact that he was trying to help. that’s caleb’s job, not some random boy’s.

dogboy!caleb who immediately stops when he picks up on your heavy breathing. he turns around, watching as you pant, clearly out of breath. you notice his stare, and give him a shaky smile, promising that you can keep up. but he sees the exhausted droop of your eyes, can hear the rapid beat of your heart and the wheezes you let out despite trying to pretend otherwise. that more than anything helps him calm down further, and he lets out a laugh-sigh that has you flushing for other reasons besides his fast walking. you blink when he lets go of your hand, dropping down into a crouch and cupping his hands behind his back. he cranes his head to look your way, smile looking normal again as he tells you to hop on his back. you can see that there’s still a restless kind of energy to him, with the way his ears and tail twitch every few seconds, so you easily comply. it’s not like it’s a hardship for you anyway—you love gege’s piggyback rides!

dogboy!caleb who counts the beat of your heart as he carries you down the street, using the slowed down rhythm as a way to control his instincts. it’s hard to ignore them when he feels how small you are on his back, and it grows more difficult when you seem to realize the potential trouble you’re in and your scent dampens with anxiety. he’s mentally kicking himself. how did he not notice how upset you were in the library?! if he’d just been paying closer attention to you…if he’d just been the slightest bit more vigilant, he could’ve helped you out before you got it in your head to just up and ditch him. which, still stings, but, he’s already forgiven you. whatever caused you to act out like that, it’s his fault. has to be, with the way you’ve been acting the past month.

dogboy!caleb who doesn’t set you down even after getting through the front door. he kicks it closed and carries you all the way to his room before he deposits you on his bed. he tells you to stay before slipping back out again, eyes sharp and dark as they flick over you before he goes. nervously, you fiddle with the long strands of your hair, unsure of what he has planned. he told you to stay still, but you still have your shoes on, so you at least kick those off onto his floor before pulling your knees up. a minute or two passes before he returns, arms carrying two of your blankets, your favorite fuzzy polar bear plushie and a black onesie with a hood and bat wings on the back.

dogboy!caleb who tosses all of the things in his arms onto his bed next to you. he eyes your shoes on the ground with an unreadable expression on his face, but ends up saying nothing as he roughly rummages through his drawers. it’s quiet between you two as he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a plain tshirt, and you startle when his voice tells you to change and pick a movie from his cabinet after. he leaves without another word, and you don’t really know now to feel as he does. he’s mad at you, right? then why is he still…caring for you like this? your head hurts from thinking about too deeply, so you just ignore it for now. you change out of your school clothes, neatly setting them by his pillow after. he hasn’t told you you can move besides going to grab a movie, and you really don’t want to upset him further by ignoring his rules. so you carefully hop off his bed and pad over to his shelf, running your fingers along his dvd collection until you randomly come to a stop. it’s supposedly a movie about a kid and his dog on a farm, but when you crack it open, the dvd’s title is that of a b-movie horror that you’ve seen multiple times before.

dogboy!caleb who comes back changed, carrying his clothes, a plate of sliced apples in the shape of bunnies and two cans of juice. he blinks when he sees you on the bed still, idly playing with the dvd case as you sit cross-legged against the wall. you pulled the hood over your head, two little horns sticking out from the top. it makes his lips twitch into a smile, and he wants to squish your little face. you look adorable dressed like that, and he’s glad that he ended up snagging that onesie instead of your rabbit one. you perk up when you hear him come back, a nervous smile on your face as you meekly raise the dvd. he hums, placing the food on his side table before tossing his clothes into the hamper by the door.

dogboy!caleb who doesn’t hesitate to bundle you up in your blankets, not quite burrito-rolling you, but coming close to it as he leans you against his pillows. there’s already a small tv in his room—courtesy of grandma, who was able to get one from a friend of hers who didn’t need it anymore, along with a dvd player that doubles up as a tape player—so he pops in the movie before hopping up onto the bed. after, of course, he removes your school stuff and hangs it up in his closet.

dogboy!caleb who pulls you into his lap once he sits down, settling you sideways so he can get a good look at your face. you stare at him with wide eyes behind your black frames, fingers twirling a piece of your hair. you open your mouth to speak, but you stop when it feels like something’s caught in it. you press your lips together, frustrated with yourself, but caleb smiles. he murmurs to you to take your time, gently leaning over to run his nose through the hair poking out from your hood. there’s no rush, he breathes against your forehead, and you curl further into his embrace, rubbing your cheek against him. he easily accommodates your silent wish, pulling you close to rest your cheek on his collarbone, his chin settling on your head as he rubs your back soothingly.

dogboy!caleb who finally feels settled again with you in his arms. warm and safe. you’re here where he can see you, protect you; comfort you when it’s clear to him you’ve been suffering in silence for so long. it irritates him, that he’s been lacking in his role of gege. that he’s let you grow to be this upset, this hurt that you have to lash out and retreat into yourself again. but, as much as his own failings bite at him, he vows from then on to never let it happen again. he doesn’t care if you get annoyed with his clinging, he’s not letting you out of his sight at all. ‘i’m lucky it’s friday. at least we can spend the whole weekend together. oh, gotta let lucas know i’m not coming out this week.’ he fishes his phone out is his pocket, eyes noticing how you quickly stiffen. he smiles, reassuring you that all he’s doing is making sure his friends know that he’s busy this weekend and that he won’t be able to meet up with them. that causes you to pull yourself up and off his chest a little. he keeps his hand on your back, but allows you the space to look at him.

dogboy!caleb who can see the little smile you try to hide from him as you ask why he’s gonna be busy. he huffs out a laugh, and pretends to think in a loud and exaggerated way. you pout and lightly smack his chest, but the hopeful smile you try to hold back stubbornly peeks through. the familiar glossy sheen returns to your eyes, and you question in a voice that cracks halfway through if he’s really going to spend all weekend with you. if…if he’s finally going to spend time again with you. you start to cry at the thought, and caleb feels his heart break a little at how happy you look despite the tears running down your cheeks. he whines, ears pressing flat against his head as he wipes away your tears with his fingers. you lean into his warmth with a sniffle, feeling at ease after months of being so upset it made you sick.

dogboy!caleb who runs his thumb against your cheek. he’s pretty sure that’s all that was making you upset—the fact that he’s been neglecting you. he got a little lost in the minutia of school, things going by and happening so quickly that it overloaded him a little. but he’s got a handle on a routine, and it wouldn’t take much for him to fit more time in for you. however long you want that time to be, he’ll find a way to make it work. as long as you talk to him and not shut him out. if you just ask, he’ll do anything you want him to—no matter how seemingly difficult or impossible the demand. he tells you as much, and you can’t help but feel undeserving of his selflessness despite how much you crave what he’s asking you to do.

‘you can’t mean that, gege.’

‘and why not? why wouldn’t i want to give you everything you ask for?’ he questions, half playful and half serious. like he’s not completely offering such a one-sided deal.

‘because i’m greedy and i’ll always want too much. i’ll always ask too much of you…’ you try and dissuade him, but if anything it makes the lopsided smile on his face grow.

‘yeah, so? there’s nothin’ wrong with being greedy, pipsqueak.’

‘that’s not true and you know it! grandma scolds me all the time when i take too much food or use up too much of the soap when i shower.’ you pout, glaring at him when he squishes your face with his hand. his hands are small, but his fingers are long enough to squeeze both of your puffed out cheeks.

‘she’s not me, though. i’m giving you full permission to be as greedy as you wanna be.’ he gives your face a little shake, laughing when you jerk forward and play bite at him. nothing connects, of course, but it’s something you’ve started to do because you like the way it makes his eyes grow brighter.

‘you really don’t wanna do that, gege. i’ll be like, super annoying and—‘

‘it doesn’t matter where i am, what i’m doin’ or who i’m with. my time, my attention, my things or my snacks—whatever you want, you’ve got it. all you’ve gotta do is ask, pipsqueak.’ his voice goes a little soft at the end, full of affection so sweet and sincere that it makes your face go red.

dogboy!caleb who watches as you fully take in his words. any of your rebuttals die on your lips as you stare at his face, absorbing the entirely of his expression. he’s serious. deadly serious. a part of you is telling you that he can’t really mean it, that he doesn’t really know how bad of an idea it is to allow you to be more demanding, but it gets quieter and quieter the longer you take in his face. your gege isn’t stupid. he knows you just as well as you know him, so he understands exactly what he’s asking of you. he…he knows what kind of beast he’s unleashing when he’s giving you permission.

‘…even if you’re busy studying?’

‘yeah.’

‘ or if you’re hanging out with your friends?’

‘mhm.’

‘or if you’re stuck in class?’

‘it’s not that hard makin’ up an excuse to leave.’

‘or if—‘

‘whatever scenario you’ve got up in that big brain of yours, pipsqueak, i promise none of them will change my answer.’

your lips tremble and more tears fall, but the smile you give him is so wide and radiant that it steals his breath away.

‘you’re gonna regret giving me permission, gege. i’m gonna be so annoying that you’ll take it back within a week tops.’

he snorts, gently brushing a strand of your hair out of your face.

‘i can promise you that i won’t. there’s nothing you can do to make me take my words back, pipsqueak.’

tag list: @thigh-o-saur, @asrasmysoulmate, @zucadia, @hinanamiya

previous episode: pt. III

next episode: pt.V

wow i feel like it's been ages since i last posted whoops ;;;; time just kinda flew by fast what can i say? anyway, i don't have too much to say for now, so until next time ^///^

if you want to keep up with this story i can totally tag you no problem, but if you follow me and your blog is ageless or i think you’re a minor you will unfortunately be blocked. i’m 18+ despite the fluff, so if you want to keep up with this series, just drop your @ and i’ll tag ! again, if you do choose to follow please, have an age in bio or you will be blocked !!

[0wlettie]

alright random ass thought but hear me out a sec; warning, this is messy asl and might not fully make sense, but this idea just kinda gripped me tight and refused to let me breath ;;;;;;

idol!caleb x obssessedfan!reader

something something you're a fan of the idol group 'deepspace', and have been for years. you've been following them since their conception, being one of the few fans to witness their rise to success. you love and appreciate all of the members of course--and sometimes rafayel tries to sway you--but the one that is your number one bias is caleb; the leader and main rapper of 'deepspace'.

you adore him, and you have ever since you saw their debut stage. you can't help it--caleb is everything to you.

tall and boyishly handsome with wide, almost puppyish eyes and ruffled dark hair. he's cute, unbearably cute, and combined with the muscular and big figure he cuts, it turns your brain to mush. playful and mischievous, playing pranks and making lighthearted jokes with his fellow members. but when he needs to be the leader, breaking up fights, speaking for them at award shows, and even defending his fellow members when he feels as if the interviewer has gone too far, he excels at it with flying colors. the gap moe of his personality and actions routinely drives you insane.

you've witnessed the interactions between him and his group--the playful bickering with him and rafayel, the bright cheer to counteract zayne's dry wit, the more passive role he took when sylus and him and were alone, the firm and supportive role he took with xavier, their youngest. he fulfilled something inside of you, as embarrassed as you were to admit. he feels like an older brother figure to you, a figure you've sorely lacked in your twenty something life.

you've collected all of his photo cards and have them in a sparkly purple binder that you keep close to your bed at night. different posters line your walls top to bottom, a mixture of official comebacks, photo shoots and fanshoots. you've got every album from their debut to the repackages, and you've got each single version. you've been to every single one of their concerts, even the ones abroad, and you're always in the closest row to the front of the stage. you honestly don't know how much money you've spent, but the amount of zeroes would definitely overwhelm you if you were to guess.

as the years passed, the depth of your love for caleb followed. but, it grew to be something that overtook your very thoughts. and you started to fantasize about seeing him in person, outside of the fanmeets and concerts. where he was just caleb, and not caleb of 'deepspace'. to the point where you're stalking his movements through what little social media the boys are allowed to have. following fansite accounts that get pictures of the boys on their off time, going so far as to try and stake out those spots, waiting for caleb to appear.

it's strange, how far you'll go to see him. how much you want to feel those pretty and warm eyes on you and only you, taking care of you the way you just know he can. stalking his dance and singing studios, delving deeper into what he does and where he goes when he's off work. through your desperate searching, you've found out what complex he stays in. a discreet yet expensive looking area that you know you stick out like a sore thumb in, with your baggy hoodies and unruly curly hair.

you don't know what floor or what apartment he's staying in, so you take a week of vacation off to find out. loitering around the area, waiting to see if you recognize their managers car. after a few more days of that, you discover both the floor and the number of the apartment. with only a couple days left, you waist no time in walking up to his apartment. you just...just want to drop off a letter to him, is all. you've written it out in the prettiest handwriting you've got, with your love and hopes colored in sparkly purple ink. clear instructions to meet at a nearby cafe are jotted down as well, and you hope in your heart of hearts that he accepts and shows up.

you get to his door then, and are about to slide the note under when you realize the door is slightly ajar. caleb had previously looked in a hurry while being ushered away by their manager, so maybe he left the door unlocked? well, if it's been unlocked this whole time, did that mean someone could've gotten inside? if so, maybe you should check it out before you close the door, make sure that no one nasty is waiting for him to return, yeah?

it makes total sense to you.

so you tuck the letter away and slowly inch past the cracked door. tension and excitement war within your gut as you shuffle deeper within caleb's home. you're here, somewhere you've only dreamed of entering. it's exactly how his personality reflects, mostly clean save for a few messily half-done model planes, and the mini workout corner filled with barbells and pull up bars. warm and cozy, with wide windows and a modern and sleek kitchen. you know that, between the others in the group, he's the best cook. you also know that it's something he enjoys as a bit of a side hobby, based off the occasional posts on his socials about the food he makes. inch by inch you scour the entirety of his home, the thinly veiled excuse of yours melting away when you reach his bedroom.

you're entire mind goes blank at the thought of seeing inside, and by the time you return to yourself, you find that you're rolling around his sheets and covers. shoes kicked off and hoodie tossed on the carpet, you're completely trying to immerse yourself in caleb's scent. you don't know how much time passes like that, but you come back to yourself when you hear the distant voices of people. it immediately snags your attention, and with a dawning dread, you realize that caleb's manager must be dropping him back off. panicking, you grab your hoodie and kick your shoes underneath his bed.

hearing footsteps get closer, you look around the room for a place to hide. your wildly darting eyes lock onto the random side door, and you don't hesitate to quickly wrench it open. heart pounding fiercely within your chest and adrenaline pumping so loud you hear nothing but white noise, you close the door and go still. you try to swallow back your panting breaths as you hear the footsteps walk closer.

when the door opens and someone enters, you instinctively back further into the room you're in, flinching when you bump into something. you mange to right yourself as well and bend down to catch whatever you ran into, but you're heart freezes when the footsteps abruptly go silent. sweat drips down your neck as the strain in your arms and legs threaten to give out on you, but eventually, the footsteps move. another door opens before the footsteps recede. you still wait a few more moments despite the pain in your limbs, but eventually, you untwist yourself and turn around. you fumble for your phone as you balance the chair you nearly bowled over with one hand. you manage to turn on your flashlight, eyes swinging around the room.

your jaw drops, eyes widening as you take in the sight.

they're...pictures covering the small walls of this side room; pictures of you. they go back years, back to the days you first got into the idol scene. the baby days of 'deepspace'. you can only stare in shock as your head robotically turns, eyes jumping from candid photo to candid photo. you walking down the street. you enjoying a small snack at the park. you walking into your job. you walking into your apartment complex. you taking out the trash. you petting a stray cat that loiters outside of your job. you going grocery shopping. you, you, you.

you don't even blink when you hear the door behind you creak open. you hardly even breath when you feel someone approach you from behind. the flashlight from your phone wobbles slightly when you hear a laugh you're used to hearing with distortion from the microphones, the cameras, the music. you feel the intimate brush of hands against your shoulders, a quiet huff of air displacing one of your curls as someone leans down until their level with your forehead.

"Took you long enough, pipsqueak. I've been waitin' forever for you to find me."

as usual, this is way longer than i expected it to be ;;;; this is just something that popped into my head when playing through the game today, and this is all my fingers could come up with. not the most coherent, but it's a cute little thought bunny that refused to leave me alone, so here this is <3 may or may not get a continuation we'll see ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

i am an 18+ blog, so if you follow and are ageless/a minor you will be blocked

[0wlettie]

based off this tweet that kind of just hijacked my brain and now i’ve gotta jot something down for it, with my own added spin ofc; warning, messy asl and incredibly self indulgent idk man i just love reader being down bad and unhinged for the boys ;;;;

professor!rafayel x obsessed stalker!reader

you love art. though your own skills are mediocre at best, you still find joy through creating and observing.

your love for art leads you here now, in your final year of high school and on a field trip to a nearby pop up exhibit filled with rookie artists looking to showcase their works. and, as one of the few kids actually engaged in the different mediums shown and being the only senior in the class, your teacher allows you a bit more freedom to wander on your own. so you casually meander down the different exhibits, fascinated by the sculptures and different paintings you come across. there are even a few of the artists loitering about, and you have a conversation here and there with them about their pieces and other things like that. eventually, you find yourself in a small corner of the pop up, drawn in by the red velvet ropes blocking off people from getting closer, as well as the few envious and awed whispers you can pick up from nearby gossiping rookies.

curious, your eyes sway over to the area. your breath hitches and your mouth drops a little in shock at what you see.

stretched to fit the wall from top to bottom, it’s the largest painting at the pop up. half the painting is cut by dark, rolling waves, the other half covered by a jagged cliffside. moonlight reflects off the top of the ocean, the stars dotting across the sky in abstract patterns. you even think you can make out a few constellations nestled among the sparkling white dots.

you can almost hear the gentle ‘whoosh’ of the waves as they crash against the bottom of the cliff. can almost feel the sea breeze as it brushes against your cheeks, cool and akin to a lover’s caress. can almost smell the sea salt rising on the cold dark of the night. there’s a profound feeling emitting from the painting, one that surprises you in its intensity.

‘loneliness.’

the beauty you see is absolutely breathtaking, but the loneliness stands out to you the most. there’s a sorrow buried within the dark shade of the ocean, empty despite reflecting the brilliant light of the moon. a yearning found within the jagged strokes of the cliff, like it’s sitting there and waiting for someone they know won’t return. the differing shades of blue that make up the piece echo out strong notes of melancholy, and your eyes burn the longer that feeling lingers around you. tears prick the corners of your eyes and a lump forms within your throat. its visceral, the ache you feel looking at this painting. you understand intimately how crushing and all consuming that feeling of loneliness can bring.

you instantly fall in love with the painting.

your eyes flick to the plaque sitting in front. there’s no name for the painting you can see, but the artist name is printed in flowing cursive script that you easily read. ‘rafayel’ sprawls across the starch white of the card, and you have the sudden need to meet this person. to see them and figure out just what made them create such a painting like this. a painting that seems to speak directly to you.

it doesn’t take you long to search up the artist online.

rafayel qi is a few years older than you are and hails from verona. he’s a newbie in the art scene, a nobody really, but his natural talent and skills quickly make him somebody. you understand why, seeing one of his paintings first hand. what you don’t understand, however, is the lack of information about him besides his name, age and his birth city. there’s basically nothing about him on the web; no pictures, social media, no interviews or q&a’s, not even a website for him to showcase his art. nothing! it drives you insane that you can’t seem to find out anything about him, and for a week straight you try your damndest too. even begging/bribing your nerdy techie of a classmate to try and dig up something, but even she can’t find much more. which leaves you out of two hundred dollars and with no answers.

so you desperately keep your ear out while weeks turn into months and you graduate from high school. when you get the barest of news that rafayel signed with an agent and is now doing more galleries, you nearly cry from joy. you try your best to get tickets to his future galleries, but they’re all so stupidly expensive and high class that your poor wallet can’t afford to spare the money—not when you’ve got to pay for the university expenses that your scholarship can’t cover.

(and yes, you did manage to skirt by just well enough to snag the art scholarship you have. you don’t personally think you have what it takes in terms of talent, but your hard work pays off when you really set your mind to it and buckle down. your medium of choice is a bit old fashioned and tricky to maneuver, but you like the feeling of charcoal and how pretty you can make those dark smudges look. you even experiment a little when it comes to adding color to your sketches, though your various attempts are abysmal and you vow to never show anyone how bad they look.)

so you try and wait for another opportunity, stalking forums and art news websites for any other information you can possibly get your hands on. it’s here, one random wednesday afternoon while scrolling through your social feed in the university library, that you come across an article. they’re talking about up and coming artists, and your fingers are already clicking on the link before you can even think about it. it takes a moment for the page to load, but when it does, you choke your spit.

there’s a picture there to greet you, one that sets your face ablaze and makes your chest throb with how fast your heart is beating. in the lower right hand corner, you can see in tiny text words that frazzle your mind. ‘rafayel qi (left) posing with interviewer lea smith (right) in front of his newest piece.’

your eyes bounce back and forth from the painting you see to the ethereally beautiful man shooting the camera a slight smirk. his arms are crossed, one hand buried within the crook of his elbow, the other almost playfully clutching a paintbrush. his hair looks artfully tousled, colored a pretty purple that compliments the strange color of his eyes that you can just barely make out from behind the screen of your phone. you still aren’t sure what color they are, and no matter how many times you crop and zoom in, you can’t be certain if they’re purple or blue. fitted in an unbuttoned white shirt and tight black slacks that emphasize the length of his legs and the tight shape of his waist, with flawless pale skin and an unfairly pretty face, you know that you’re immediately gone.

the need coursing through you to finally meet this man is intense. you feel as if you’re about to shake out of your skin the longer you look at the photo, and you don’t hesitate to download it and crop out the lady, until it’s just rafayel staring back at you. you immediately switch back to the article and read through it, taking your time to admire the newest piece to his collection before rereading the article a few times—just to really cement the information in your mind. as lame and bland as the questions are, you feel as if you’re accomplishing something anyway. the little information you get paints a picture of the artist that’s captured your attention so thoroughly. of rafayel, who is hands down the most gorgeous person you’ve ever come across.

it becomes sort of a…compulsion, after that. you use that picture you’ve gotten as your home and lockscreen. and your idle time outside of school work and your part time job is spent endlessly searching for more crumbs. as the months morph into a year, then two, your collection of rafayel pictures grows exponentially. the artist chooses to somewhat engage with the outside world more, and you honestly can’t be more grateful. you don’t get many interviews after that, unfortunately, so your information is still limited even now. but still! any piece you gather feels like a win, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.

you know he’s a pisces and that his birthday is march 6th. you know that he never officially went to any art school, and that he’s got a natural gift for picking apart color swatches and shades. you know that he’s charismatic enough to carry conversations, and while you can see someone playful peak through his aloof demeanor every now and again, he more often than not stays distant when being interviewed. you know that he truly has a passion for art of any kind, and that his own speaks deeply for him. he continuously paints about lemuria, the recently discovered ancient ruins of a civilization long thought to be a myth. you know he holds that place close to him, based off the haunting and sorrowful energy radiating from his works, but the why of it still escapes you.

you think you know him as well as a certified stranger can, and it gnaws at you that you don’t know more. you feel like a beast, really, with how much you hunger for more of him. with how strong the desire to meet with him, to speak to him is. it frightens you, these intense feelings you have. but that fear easily gets pushed to the wayside whenever you catch a glimpse of rafayel’s picture in your phone, or when you happen to catch sight of a lake or ocean wide enough for the reflection to glimmer underneath the sun. there’s just something about him that captivates you entirely, and you have no choice but to give in to that desire to be near him. but he rarely makes physical appearances outside of private galas and exhibits. so you’re stuck watching him through your screen, constantly checking for updates or idly staring at his pretty face captured in various subtle expressions.

you glance at your phone screen as you stick close to the walls of the university hallway. it’s a picture of him, caught in a side profile and wearing an expensive dark blue suit. a candid caught by a fansite you’ve been following—a fansite that takes commissions for a hefty price. a price you were more than willing to pay two weeks ago. as bad a financial decision that was, it still makes you happy regardless. you’ve got two brand new pictures of rafayel, two pictures that only you have access too. it’s like you were the one to take those pictures, if you really think about it.

because you feel like it, you flick open your phone and look at the second picture you paid for. rafayel’s face is turned to the side and some of his hair is obscuring his eyes, so you still can’t determine the damn color, but the visual of his defined and exposed collarbone more than make up for it. you sigh a little, a smile curling up the corner of your lip as you click your phone closed. you shake it a little and wait for it to briefly light up, sighing again when you get another glimpse of the first photo.

looking at rafayel so early in the morning is like a shot of espresso for you. this particular course—art theory & critical studies—is one that’s criminally early, and you’re dead fucking tired from being up the night prior reading the latest article about rafayel. nothing new for you was found, but it’s hard for you to ignore things like that, not when there’s a chance you could find out something new. you notice the time and grimace a bit, picking up your slow walk to more of a power walk/light jog mix.

you’re on your way to class now, and while you aren’t exactly late, you will be if you don’t hurry. it’s the beginning of your third year at university and while you feel like your artistic sense has grown, you still don’t feel super confident in your work. not enough to want to deal with professor kim and his harsh critiques and boring lectures. but, unfortunately, if you want to continue being in school at such a steep discount, you have to follow the rules and guidelines to your scholarship. so here you are, power walking into class with a grim look on your face more suitable for a soldier rather than a uni student.

you walk so fast in your haste that you actually end up tripping over the lip of the door to class. your phone slips out of your hand like it was especially greased for you to drop, and it clatters to the floor with a loud noise. the sound immediately draws stares to you, and you can feel your face burn from embarrassment. and because your day can’t get any worse, you watch as your phone slides across the ground until they land at an unfamiliar pair of loafers. you frown, eyes trailing up mile long legs clad in brown slacks. up, up, up your eyes go until you land on a face you never imagined you’d see in person.

you swear that everyone in the room can hear how your heartbeat stutter and stops, like the dying engine of a motor as you stare into the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. you understand why you’ve never been able to place the color now, the bright blue of rafayel’s iris mingles with a soft pink, producing a hypnotizing effect as he blinks. you’re suddenly reminded of sunsets; of those moments right before the sun fully peeks over the horizon, the sky blazing in various hues of purple, pink and blue.

embarrassingly, you find that your throat is completely dry as you watch him glance down. with a raised eyebrow and a decidedly unamused quirk of his lip, he bends down and picks up your phone. your jerk forward, but it’s already too late because as soon as your phone jostles, your screen lights up and rafayel is faced with your lock screen.

he freezes in place, the look in his eyes going unreadable as he stares down at his own photo.

your entire body tenses, and you feel like the entire class is staring at you two, which only serves to make you even more nervous. you didn’t think this day would come. never in your life would you have imagined seeing him here if all places, in your uni class. and dressed like that? a smart brown suit that molds to his lean figure, black leather gloves, sparkling silver glasses and small black gauges to top off the look. you think you might actually just keel over and die—either from the fear, embarrassment or the sudden wash of horny thoughts flooding your mind. you honestly don’t know which one you’d prefer.

he finally moves what feels like years later, but was in actuality only a few moments of awkward silence. you’re expecting him to be grossed out, maybe even a little scared and uncomfortable. it can’t feel good to come across a complete stranger and see that they have you saved as their lockscreen, like some creepy fan. what you aren’t expecting, however, is the smug curl of his lips. his eyes flick to meet yours, and your rapidly pounding heart stops at the look he gives you. full of something dark and hot enough to make you twitch.

‘you dropped this, miss…?’ he easily hands over the phone, bending down slightly like…like he wants to get a better look at you. the musical lilt of his voice turns the slightest bit playful as he lightly cocks his head to the side. it’s a cheeky gesture, and you awkwardly fumble for your phone, keeping his stare the entire time. your fingers brush against his skin and you can’t fight off the shiver that travels down your spine and up your arms, goosebumps raising long your skin. you go to take your hand back, but you freeze when you can feel the slightest hint of resistance. he raises an eyebrow, and you nearly short circuit at the sight of his pretty eyes staring at you over the slouch of the silver frames hanging low on his nose.

right, your name. he’s asking…oh my god fucking rafayel qi is asking for your name—

‘[✦].’ you shakily tell him, and your phone easily goes with you next time you pull. he hums, eyes giving you a full once over before standing to his full height. he gives you a smile, the expression polite and distant as he nods. his entire body language screams professionally cold, but the stare he gives you is the complete opposite.

‘alright then, have a seat miss [✦]. class is about to start.’

your brain turns to complete mush, and you move on autopilot as your name in his voice echoes in your mind. before you realize it, your seated in the front row of the lecture hall. it’s only after rafayel introduces himself to the class, after he begins a powerpoint on art theory and what it means, after you’ve been dazedly staring at him for nearly half the class, do you finally understand what this means.

rafayel is here, teaching your uni course on art theory.

rafayel is going to be your professor.

yah so, uh, this is a thing i hope ya’ll like it >_< i really like how this turned out and am v proud of it so maybe this will get a part two ??? we’ll see, but for now enjoy this lil bit !!

i am a 18+ blog so if you follow and are a minor/ ageless you will be blocked

[0wlettie]

okay so i think i actually will end up writing about this

honestly i’ve been thinking about it nonstop in the back of my mind and it’s kind of haunting me now 😭

i’ll be doing a lil sum sum later on today, which may or may not be a full fledged fic idky

whatever it ends up being ill finish and post it soon lol

would it be wild if i…..wrote something for caleb about period sex ????

idk i came across this screenshot on twt about this sylus fic and like, idk if it’s just cuz im goin thru my own period rn and ive been craaaaaaazy down bad but it’s really making me go a little nuts thinking about caleb fucking you during your cycle ?????

idk i’ve got thoughts and i can’t help but wanna write em down…