#every step i take is a step in the direction i want to be in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starry-fame · 2 days

Text

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

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

Word Count: 11,734

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

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

It burns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caleb…”

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

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

“What was that for?”

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

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… know that. It’s just….”

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

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Demands?”

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

“I missed you.”

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

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

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

“You tell other people about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Finish what you started.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a list?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #gender neutral reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader

55 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 3 days

Text

In the kitchen, I make coffee. Two cups, though Evie has not yet stirred. It is twenty past four, and the clouds are tinged red.

I make my way out to the garden and tip the dew from a patio chair. I leave one cup on the table and sip from the other as I sit back and watch the sky change.

She’ll get up soon.

Behind me, silence permeates the house.

At half past four, my mug is empty. It’s cold out, and the steam no longer rises from Evie’s cup. I leave it for her anyway as I go to make myself a bowl of cereal.

I eat and finish it.

She doesn’t come.

It is a quarter to five.

But at last, something stirs. The floorboards creak on the stairs, and I spin around, only to be met with the sight of my mother, her hair undone, and no makeup on her face. She comes to the patio door with a thin jumper thrown over her bony shoulders.

“Are you ready to go?” She says.

“Yeah. I was just waiting a minute.”

“For what?”

“One of my friends was supposed to get up.”

She checks her watch. “There could be traffic on the M50.”

“It’s not even five.”

“Port traffic, Jude. You don’t know how it’s going to be. I don’t want you to miss your flight, and you still have to pack the car.”

“Fine,” I push past her and carry my cereal bowl to the sink. “I’ll pack. You can warm up the car if you’re in such a hurry.”

Upstairs, I stand over my bags and listen. She doesn’t stir in the guest room, and my stomach sinks like lead. Should I go in? What if she isn’t wearing clothes?

I carry my bags to the car.

It is five.

Mom hurries me on as I insist upon once more trip into the house.

“Jeez! I forgot something,” I tell her, and rush to the kitchen. Outside in the driveway, the engine roars to life.

I find a black marker in a drawer, and tear the corner from the lip of the cereal box. I don’t know what to write.

Sweet dreams, Evie. See you later, alligator.

Oh, wonderful. How stupid. There is no time to change it.

I hurry upstairs, and I slide it under the door. Again, I wait, with the last shred of hope for the sound of her, and again, there’s nothing.

So I go.

“Come on, Jude!” Mom says. “You need time to check in.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be fine.”

“Do you have your boarding pass?”

“Yes.”

“Passport?”

“Of course.”

“Phone? Wallet? Charger?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

I fling the passenger door of the Audi open and throw my backpack inside.

Then, from the bushes, there is a rustling, and I pause.

On the gravel, I stand and I watch as a cat emerges from the laurel. He is small, with grey, slinky fur and a collar with a bell that tinkles with each step. His eyes are funny, like looking two directions at once. A strange, otherworldly face, like he is oblivious to his own existence.

He saunters over and rubs his furry cheek against my ankle, his body vibrating with a contented purr. I frown.

“Goose?”

He doesn’t know he is Goose.

He remembers me.

“Oh, Jude, for God’s sake!” Mom hisses. “Get in the car!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Leave that cat alone. Don’t encourage it. It’ll come by looking for food from me, tormenting me every time I leave the house.”

“Alright, fine.”

As though he understands, Goose skips away and disappears back into the bushes like he was never even there. Like something I conjured from my imagination. I just scratch my head.

“There’s hand sanitizer in the glove compartment,” Mom says as I duck inside the vehicle. “Don’t touch anything until you’ve used it.”

“Can’t open the glove compartment if I can’t touch it.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” She snaps it open for me as we pull out of the driveway, and I take one more look back at the house, and the guest room, the white curtains still drawn and still.

And I keep looking back until it’s all the way out of sight.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

#lucky boy 2010

58 notes · View notes

jungkit · 15 hours

Text

yang jungwon- ache for you

jw x f!reader ☯︎ fluff, angst ☯︎ cursing, suggestive ☯︎ wc 842 ☯︎ not proofread

You considered Jungwon one of your close friends, having grown up next to each other and your families being close.

Where you were, he was.

And you hate to admit it, but over time, you grew to have a crush on him.

You can’t help it! He’s grown to be such a good person, not to mention handsome.

You’re certainly not the only one either.

It’s almost everyday you hear one girl or another talking about Jungwon.

You know they envy you for being close to him, but even so, you think he only sees you as a friend.

So, you’ve kept your feelings secret.

There have been numerous times where you’ve wanted to confess, but chickened out every time.

You can’t help but swoon whenever Jungwon talks about you to others, which is why when you hear him mention your name, you can’t help but listen around the corner of the hallway.

“She’s so fucking annoying. I get we’ve been friends since we were kids but it’s like I can never escape her. She’s always there, always clinging to me somehow, I wish she’d just back off.”

You feel your heart crack as you take in his words.

Is this how he’s felt about you all along? Or was this a recent feeling?

Either way, tears prick your eyes as you take a step back.

Without warning, someone turns the corner, coming into direct contact with you.

You look up and see Jungwon, a confused look on his face.

He sees the tears in your eyes and knows.

“Y/N…I-”

You put a hand up, telling him to stop.

Turning around, you begin walking away.

“Y/N, wait!”

His hand makes contact with your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

Making your way into the girls bathroom, somewhere he can’t follow you, you sit on the sink and let the tears flow, trying not to make any noise.

Jungwon stands outside the bathroom, trying to coax you to come out and talk to him.

Only when the bell rings do you hear footsteps leaving the area.

You freshen yourself up, splashing some cold water on your face before heading to class.

You spend the next few days completely avoiding Jungwon who is still attempting to talk to you.

Why? You’re giving him what he wanted.

He even came to your house, asking to see you but you told your parents you didn’t want to see him, to their surprise.

They begged you to tell them what happened but you refused.

Despite everything, you don’t want Jungwon getting into trouble.

Jungwon feels like his world is crashing down.

He knows that what he said was true, he did feel suffocated by you, but he didn’t go about it the right way.

He only started feeling this way recently, wanting space from you for a while.

No, he doesn’t hate you, he just wanted to spend some time apart.

Now he feels terrible for what he’s done.

He didn’t miss the side eye your parents gave him, wanting to know why their daughter refused to see him. He wanted to confess, tell the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As he lays in bed after another unsuccessful day of trying to talk to you, he thinks about the past 18 years of his life.

You’ve always been there, by his side through everything.

And now, he’s possibly ruined everything.

Jungwon reevaluates everything.

Why did he say what he said?

Because he felt suffocated by your presence.

But why?

He’d never had a problem until recently.

As he scrolls through your instagram, he looks at your most recent post.

You’re beautiful, you always have been.

Even at a young age, Jungwon thought you were pretty.

You’ve grown into an amazing, beautiful young woman.

He feels an ache in his heart at the thought of losing you.

He thinks about you, about your smile, your laugh.

Without realizing, he’s begun to ache somewhere other than his heart.

Looking down, he groans.

Now he has to go take a cold shower.

The next morning, you make your way to school, headphones in not hearing the footsteps behind you.

Jungwon throws himself in front of you, grabbing your shoulders so you stop.

Looking up at him, you try not to lean into his touch that you’ve missed so much.

“What,” you say, giving him a cold stare.

“I realized why I said what I said. It’s because I’m so infatuated with you, that I thought pushing you away would push my feelings away. I love you and I’m sorry.”

You freeze up under Jungwon’s hold, processing his confession.

“What?”

“I. Love. You.”

You feel tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, yet this time they’re not sad tears.

“Jungwon, you idiot.”

“I know,” he pulls you into a hug.

Wrapping your arms around him, you squeeze him tightly.

He pulls away, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

You kiss back, sighing in content.

When you walk into school, hands intertwined, you feel revived.

sorry for not posting for so long, hehe

tagging @pshbites cause she wanted me to ☺️

50 notes · View notes

movingmusically · 2 days

Text

Caught Feeling - part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. I’m more the type to stay in, read a book, maybe watch a show on TV if I’m feeling adventurous. I keep to myself, blend into the background. It’s comfortable there. Quiet. Predictable.

But tonight felt different.

I couldn’t take another quiet evening alone, another routine night where nothing happened. Work had drained me, like it always did, and my mind felt clogged with the same old thoughts, the same old worries. So instead of heading home like I usually would, I found myself walking in the opposite direction, pulled by something I couldn’t quite explain.

And that’s how I ended up here, in this smoky, dimly lit bar I’d passed a hundred times but never stepped foot into. Paul’s wasn’t exactly my kind of place—it was gritty, loud, filled with regulars who all seemed to know each other. The kind of place where I would normally feel out of place. But tonight, I didn’t care. Tonight, I wanted to be someone else, someone who didn’t fade into the background.

The second I walked in, I felt the weight of the room shift. It wasn’t so much that people noticed me—most were too engrossed in their drinks or conversations—but I felt different. Out of my element. My nerves buzzed under my skin, that familiar urge to turn around and retreat bubbling up inside me. But I stayed.

Then I saw him.

He was behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. His blonde hair was slightly messy, curling at the base of his neck, with a worn baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. But it was his eyes that caught me—blue, sharp, and piercing, like they could see straight through me.

For a moment, I thought about looking away, but I didn’t. Our eyes met, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, the kind that made my stomach flip. He didn’t say anything, just held my gaze for a beat too long before turning back to his task.

Something inside me stirred—a mix of nerves, curiosity, and something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wasn’t the type to flirt with bartenders or sit alone in a place like this, but tonight, I wanted to see where this could go.

I made my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool and feeling oddly aware of every step, every movement. The bottles gleamed behind him, and the air was thick with smoke, wood, and something musky that I couldn’t place. As I sat down, he glanced up again, and that smile returned, like he was waiting for me to speak.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice low, rough around the edges.

Normally, I’d have some rehearsed response ready, a safe drink order to keep me grounded, but tonight I didn’t want safe. I met his gaze, a small flicker of boldness lighting inside me. “Whatever you recommend.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, feeling a little more confident now. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief, and reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

As he poured, I couldn’t help but watch him. He moved with a kind of effortless confidence that made it hard to look away. When he slid the drink across the bar, his fingers brushed mine for just a second, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm.

“Here you go,” he said, leaning against the bar with that same easy grin. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a sip, the alcohol smooth and a little sharp as it hit my tongue. Warmth spread through me, easing the edge of my nerves without clouding my thoughts. I wasn’t drunk—not even close—but I felt braver, more at ease than I had when I first walked in.

“Not bad,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own.

His eyes flicked over me, curious. “Good to know.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything, but the air between us felt charged. I could feel the pull, the chemistry building, and my heart raced in a way I hadn’t expected. Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different. Maybe I didn’t have to be the quiet, shy girl tonight.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too cliché.

He chuckled, running a hand through his blonde curls as he glanced around the bar. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way.”

Hank. It suited him. Strong, simple, with just the right amount of edge.

“I’m—” I started to introduce myself, but a regular at the end of the bar called out, interrupting us. Hank shot me a quick smile, a promise that our conversation wasn’t over, and turned to grab the man’s drink.

I watched him move, noticing the ease with which he handled the bar. There was something magnetic about him, something that made my pulse quicken. As the night wore on, the bar slowly emptied, but Hank kept returning to me, each time with a little more focus, a little more intensity in his gaze. It felt like we were picking up a conversation that never really paused. It wasn’t about the words—it was about the attention. The way he leaned in slightly, as if nothing else in the room mattered.

Hank returned after serving another customer, resting his hands on the counter. He gave me a crooked smile, a look that made it feel like we’d known each other for longer than just tonight.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s? You don’t exactly blend in with the regulars,” he said, his tone easy, like he was genuinely curious.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery. This isn’t my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen where the end credits of a Giants game were rolling. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere quieter.”

“Somewhere quieter like… where?”

He thought for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “A café, maybe? Somewhere peaceful. You seem like someone who likes calm.”

I smiled at that. “You’re not wrong. I’m more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

“Let me guess,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, “you’ve got a favourite corner, always reading, probably scribbling in a notebook. And you drink your coffee black. No sugar.”

I laughed, the sound surprising me with how relaxed I felt. “Close. But I do take a little sugar.”

His smile widened. “Good to know.”

There was a pause, and I could feel the shift between us. A deeper pull, something heavier lingering in the air, making my heart race again. The bar had emptied out now, the noise of earlier replaced by a quiet hum. Hank wiped down the counter, his movements slower, more deliberate.

“You’re doing a good job of stepping out of your usual tonight,” he said after a moment. “Coming to a place like this on your own? That’s not nothing.”

I smiled softly, realising that I did feel different—bolder, freer. “Thanks. It does feel… different. In a good way.”

Hank’s smile deepened, his eyes locking with mine. “Sometimes different is exactly what you need.”

I nodded, feeling a warmth growing in my chest—not just from the alcohol, but from something else, something more. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bar had thinned out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. The soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses filled the space, but it all felt distant now. It was just me and Hank. The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.

Hank leaned against the bar, his blue eyes still focused on me, and I could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “You seem like someone who’s got it all together. But tonight, you’re here. Why?”

The question caught me off guard, and I paused, glancing down at my nearly empty glass. “I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s expression softened, his gaze growing more thoughtful. “More than you’d think. It’s why I work here, I guess. This place… it’s real. People come here to escape, to let go. I get it.”

I met his eyes again, feeling a strange sense of connection, like he understood exactly what I was feeling. “Yeah, that’s what I needed tonight. Something real. Something different.”

Hank pushed off from the bar, moving a little closer, his voice dropping just enough that it felt like a secret between us. “Well, you picked the right place.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt loaded with possibility. I could feel my heart pounding, my pulse quickening, and I knew I was standing on the edge of something. Something new. Something unexpected.

Hank’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he even said it.

“You wanna get out of here?”

It wasn’t just an invitation—it was a challenge, a leap into the unknown. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I do.”

The cool night air hit my skin the moment we stepped outside, but it did little to cool the fire that had been building between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips moved to my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

#austin butler #caught stealing #hank thompson #fiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #fanfic #fan fiction #imagine #Hank Thompson x you #Hank Thompson x reader #Hank Thompson x y/n #caught stealing fic

34 notes · View notes

theelizamanelli · 3 days

Text

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, one bed, implied/referenced suicide attempt, blood and violence, grinding link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Ten

——————————————————————————————————

“With all that cuddling we did, I didn’t think you would mind,” Gojo leaned against the wall, gesturing towards the bed.

Heat spread through Reina’s neck, kissing the edge of her cheeks. Standing abruptly, she stomped towards her luggage attempting to snatch it from Gojo.

He yanked it out of reach, sliding it behind his body.

“It was a joke, Iyashi. It was the only room they had.” He placed a key into her outstretched hand with a chuckle before rolling their suitcases towards the opposite wall.

Reina scrunched her face and let out a deep sigh, “You’re lucky. Next time there better be two beds.”

“Are you scared you won’t be able to resist my late night charm?” Gojo fell onto the edge of the bed, turning to prop himself up on an elbow.

“You’ll see all of this and just have to touch it?” He gestured with his free hand down the length of his body.

“In your dreams, pretty boy.” Reina scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Every night, Iyashi.” Gojo replied sweetly before standing up from the mattress.

Reina began unpacking her suitcase, placing her clothes in the dresser systematically. Gojo leaned over her shoulder, watching her process with care.

“Looks a lot better than mine,” He took a few steps backwards to where his luggage lay on its side, the contents spilling out.

She winced at the sight, turning her attention back to the drawer. Reina began to tap her foot, glancing at Gojo as he rifled through his things - furthering the mess. Throwing her shirt down with a huff, she took a step towards him.

“Just give it to me,” she said with exasperation, nudging Gojo out of the way.

He sat cross legged on the bed, watching Reina fold his clothes and place them alongside hers. Hanging his button up shirts in the closet and lining his shoes along the wall. She slid their suitcases into the closet, his blue a dark contrast to her pink.

With a satisfied smile, Reina spun in his direction, “Are you ready?”

Gojo clasped his hands together and swung himself off the bed, “Here we go!”

——————————————————————————————————

The path outside of the inn ran parallel to the river, a sliver of the sunset remaining on the water line.

“So, there’s going to be a next time?” Gojo asked, referencing her earlier comment. He turned his body to face hers, walking sideways in order to meet her gaze.

Attempting to avoid eye contact, she dodged his line of sight by moving her head in different directions.

“If you’re good,” she replied, spotting an elderly woman standing a few buildings down sweeping the front stoop.

“Satoru Gojo is always good,” he stated in a serious tone, straightening up with exaggerated pride.

Reina snorted at the notion, quickly averting her face as Gojo laughed.

“What a beautiful couple!” remarked the older lady.

He paused, tossing a devilish grin at Reina before he twirled around.

“Isn’t she?” Placing a hand on Reina’s shoulder, Gojo gazed at her lovingly. “You should have seen her on our wedding day.”

He wiped a fake tear from his cheek, Reina struck him with a sideways glare.

The elder clutched the front of her shirt, “That is so sweet! Oh, to be loved like that. You are a lucky woman.” She faced Reina with a soft smile, glancing between the two of them.

Gojo squeezed her shoulder tightly, an indication to play along.

“The luckiest,” she grit out, a tight smile splaying across her lips.

“Are you two here celebrating something?” she asked, propping her broom against the door frame.

“Yes, our anniversary.” Gojo reached for Reina’s hand, she kept it tight to her body - her face hardening. Gojo pulled, forcing her to release the tension in her arm.

“It’s a pretty town, you should visit the bakery up the road,” she gestured down the path.

“Are there any places we should avoid? It’s my duty to keep my wife safe.” Gojo nodded solemnly, placing his free hand over his heart.

The woman appeared to melt at the words, throwing a scathing look at Reina’s indifference before responding. “Well, be careful to avoid the eastern side of the woodline at night.”

She paused, gazing towards the trees with a somber look, “There have been a few missing cats and dogs as of late. My little Pochi has been gone for three days.”

Pulling a photo out of her pocket, she pressed it forward into Gojo’s line of sight - avoiding Reina’s attempts to look. A smiling woman sat in a chair with a small white dog in her lap.

“If we see him, we will let you know,” Gojo replied sincerely. “Thank you for the advice!”

“Come along, sweetheart!” Still holding onto Reina’s hand, he yanked her towards him and continued down the path.

“Our anniversary, huh?” seethed Reina, “Is this how you always act on your jobs? Lying to get what you want?”

Gojo casually inspected the surroundings, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Walking in the direction of the woodline, Gojo intermittently stopped to converse with the locals. Spewing a similar story - the women gasped with glee at his retelling, casting judgemental glances in Reina’s direction as she sat awkwardly on the sideline.

There was a consistent resounding concern for the eastern border of the trees. A few had noted the disappearance of tourists - abandoned cars in the clearings nearby. That was all the confirmation the pair needed before they entered the forest.

——————————————————————————————————

The night had settled in between the trees, forcing Reina to focus her energy on avoiding rogue roots rather than locating the curse.

Gojo walked ahead, confidently, moving branches out of her way.

Stumbling over a rock that Reina failed to note, distracted by Gojo’s frame in the moonlight, she steadied herself on a tree.

Gojo turned towards her, one hand in his pocket as he commented, “You’re not the most graceful, are you?”

“Sorry, we can’t all have sixteen eyes or whatever,” She grumbled, pushing off the bark.

Gojo chuckled and stepped forward, surveying the area. “People have always been unsettled by them.”

Sliding in next to him, Reina watched as he used his index finger to pull the blindfold out - letting it spring back into place.

She furrowed her brows at the prospect, “I prefer to look at them,” she replied without thinking. Straightening up, she hurried forward so as to not catch his eye.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” he murmured, the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s easier to have the blindfold or sunglasses, it can be an information overload.”

A crack echoed through the woods causing Reina to take a step backwards - bouncing off of Gojo’s stomach.

He leaned forward - whispering in her ear, “What? Are you scared?”

Goosebumps pimpled along the back of her neck.

A fox sprung out from behind the bushes, its claws digging into the ground. The entrance of a den hiding behind its body, four beady eyes shining from the hole.

“We found your youkai,” Reina said with a sigh.

“Poor Pochi.” whimpered Gojo.

——————————————————————————————————

The heat spread across the counter and slithered underneath the door from the shower. Reina used a towel to lazily dry her hair before pulling on shorts and a tee.

She opened the door slowly, Gojo sat on the floor scrolling his phone. His pallet of blankets spread underneath him, he slid his gaze upwards.

“It’s a cold night and all they have is that fireplace,” He pointed to the corner of the room where he had kindled the flame.

She looked down at her clothes, “It’s all I brought for pajamas.”

He shrugged, leaning back onto his pillows. She carefully skirted around his space before climbing into the bed. Reina quickly covered herself with the comforter, the cold beginning to seep into her bones as the warmth of the shower disappeared.

Silence stretched in the air as Reina gazed out the window, admiring the stars.

“Thank you for coming, Iyashi,” Gojo said quietly. Reina felt the heat in her cheeks, she leaned forward to peer down at the pallet.

Gojo’s eyes were closed, his arm resting on his forehead.

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.

Reina thought of their earlier conversation, wondering how lonely little Gojo was. She reasoned that they had more in common than she realized.

The fireplace crackled in the corner, supplying minimal heat to the bed. She looked over at Gojo, seemingly unaffected by the brisk air. His proximity to the flames proved advantageous to not freezing to death.

Her teeth chattered loudly, her body shivering uncontrollably. Reina pulled her knees upwards to meet her chest and tightened her grip on the comforter.

“You’re shaking the bed,” muttered Gojo from the ground.

“Sh-sh-shut up,” her mouth fighting against the clattering.

“You know, I could think of a few ways to warm you up,” he teased.

“I hope you catch fire in your sleep,” Reina replied with an annoyed tone.

“Suit yourself,” the blankets rustled as he re-adjusted.

Reina stared into the darkness, observing how the light of the fire danced along the wall. Desperate to distract herself from the bitter frost threatening to swallow her. She glanced down at Gojo who was resting comfortably in the opposite direction, facing the window.

She turned her attention to the ceiling - reasoning with her conscience. Huffing, she gathered the comforter in her arms and slid softly to the ground. Tossing it lightly over his body, Reina pulled the edge of the blankets up and slipped underneath.

The immediate warmth spread into her toes and worked slowly up.

The heat radiating from Gojo coaxed her closer, she fought momentarily before succumbing to its allure. Reina pressed lightly against his body, careful to not wake him.

She felt her lids begin to drift shut, the smell of his cologne caressing her nose. Reina nuzzled her head into the back of his shirt, she froze - her eyes widening. Wincing, she inwardly chastised herself - he would never let her live this down if he woke up.

A few moments passed, Reina let out a sigh of relief when Gojo didn’t stir. Relaxing against his body, she allowed herself to close her eyes.

Lifting a leg to maneuver herself, Reina settles into Gojo’s lap. Sliding a hand up his torso and around his neck - softly playing with his hair in the back.

He lets out a groan, leaning his head into her hands.

Reina shifts her hips against Gojo’s growing hardness. A moan slipping from her lips as her fingernails dig into his shoulder.

She grinds, Gojo grabs her hips desperately - begging for friction.

He drags himself up and down, a blush spreading across Reina’s cheeks.

Gojo leans forward and kisses her neck, whispering into her ear “Are you warm enough?”

She tilts her head to the side, trying to understand his words.

“Are you warm enough, Iyashi?”

One leg strewn across his body, Reina’s shorts were riding his boxers. Her head lay softly on his chest with an arm around his neck, her fingers holding onto a piece of hair.

Horrified, Reina bolted upright - pressing herself into his groin. A low groan stuck in his throat as he reached for her hips.

“Please, no more movement,” Gojo stared up at Reina, a pained look in his eyes. “Haven’t I endured enough torture this morning?”

——————————————————————————————————

Sulking behind him, Reina dragged her feet along the sidewalk as Gojo wandered forward.

“Lighten up, Iyashi. It was only a dream - at least you weren’t cold,” He said playfully, a sideways glance in her direction.

With a huff, she smacked his shoulder. “Don’t,” she warned.

He laughed, returning his gaze to the path, a group of teenagers stood outside of a cafe - gossiping loudly.

“Yeah, he went to that old well again. God, who’s going to tell him that thing’s an old wive’s tale?” remarked one of the boys with a cruel chuckle.

“I mean, how stupid could he be? Does he think that’s going to make her like him? How embarrassing.” a girl giggled, leaning her head back.

Gojo paused, listening intently. Reina nearly ran into his back, stopping herself with a quick dig of her heels.

“What?” she asked, attempting to peer around him.

The kids continued on towards the river, a man walked forward to clear the table they had been sitting at.

“Sir? We are trying to do some sightseeing.” He looked back at Reina, pulling her forward. “It’s our honeymoon.” He patted her arm, she smiled at the man in an attempt to play along.

“We heard of an old well?” He inquired, watching the man’s reaction carefully.

He dropped a glass, clattering to the table. “The Yamamoto Well?”

“That’s it!” Gojo said excitedly, Reina knew he didn’t know the name but was attempting to drag maximum information from the man.

“Oh, well, that’s more of an old legend. A long time ago, there was a young girl named Mai Yamamoto who fell in love with a nobleman. He left her for a woman of better standing. She went to that well and prayed for him to love her. Using a spell a local majo had given her,” The man shivered slightly. “When it didn’t work she killed herself, throwing her body down it.”

“Now teenagers mostly use it as a way to scare each other. I have heard of some trying love spells at it again.” He shrugged, pointing in the direction of the well, “Not really romantic if you ask me.”

Gojo thanked him for the information before hurrying them along. As they neared the area he had referred them to, the air began to thicken. Reina watched her breath swirl around her mouth, she tightened her coat around her waist.

“There’s a lot of cursed energy here,” Gojo stated. The street gave way to a small clearing, surrounded by trees. A stone well sat at the edge, covered by a wooden awning splintered by age.

“Spooky,” muttered Reina as they neared the well.

“Very,” Gojo concurred, peering around it.

A young boy crouched behind the stone, his long dark hair wrapping around his face - his fingers clutching the edge. He was notably shaken, mumbling to himself, “Why? Why? Why?” his volume slowly increased.

Gojo bent down, hands resting on his knees as he confronted him, “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

He continued to mutter under his breath, rocking slightly. A slow whistle rose from the bottom of the well. Reina stiffened at the sound, taking a protective step towards Gojo.

She glanced down, the edge of a knife jutted out from the boy’s palm - his hand trembling.

The whistling grew louder, the sound reminding Reina of a bottle rocket.

“Gojo,” she whispered, a soft warning as he neared the boy and the well.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” Gojo said softly, reaching for him.

His eyes widened in response, stumbling backwards to avoid the touch.

At that exact moment, a gray figure exploded from the top of the well - Reina reached for Gojo.

It landed on the edge in a crouch. The curse resembled a young woman in a tattered kimono. Her dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Three eyes glanced from Gojo to Reina.

Reina reached for the kaikens strapped to the outside of her pants, stepping into a defensive position.

Gojo straightened up, his eyes still on the young boy. He rolled his neck before turning towards the curse.

“You’re it?” He asked, lazily trailing his gaze over its body.

The monster cocked its head to the side before springing towards Gojo, hitting his limitless effect and sprawling backwards with a thud.

“How embarrassing,” He said, pity drenching his tone.

He stepped towards the curse, “How about you pick on someone your own size?”

It raced towards him again, its speed difficult for Reina to track with her eyes.

The boy was crawling around the well, in the opposite direction of the curse. She took a step towards him, the curse nearly reached Gojo when it stopped abruptly. Turning towards the boy.

Reina’s face hardened as she ran towards him, sliding across the grass to throw her body in front of his. The curse collided with her, she grunted at the impact - Reina slammed the kaikens into each shoulder. It roared before digging its claws into her side.

She managed to get a knee in between their bodies, she used the space to position her foot on its stomach.

Reina thrusted her leg forward, throwing it into the air. She groaned at the growing pain in her ribs, pushing her body backwards - forcing the boy to scoot along the ground retreating to the woodline.

“Help me up,” she gritted out, the boy faltering before shoving her upwards. She stumbled forward, straightening as the curse scurried in her direction.

Gojo knocked into it from the side, causing it to slip on the ground - it dug its claws into the grass to stop its momentum.

In the collision, he had reached forward to pull out one of the pink kaikens from its shoulder.

“You’re always losing these in fights, Iyashi.” He flipped it into the air, catching it with ease. “You should take better care of your toys.”

Reina scowled at him as he threw it in her direction, “At least I’m doing something, unlike some people.”

“Oh? I’m not doing anything?” Gojo turned to Reina, his hands in his pockets. The curse ran towards him, he maintained eye contact with her. Without moving he sliced through one of its arms, it lay mangled on the ground - desperately attempting to reach for him.

She rolled her eyes, “What a show off.”

The curse reeled, shaking its head before running towards him - he suspended it in the air momentarily.

“Bye bye,” Gojo said with a smile and a small wave of his hand.

Reina slammed her kaiken into the back of its skull. It shuddered before falling to the ground.

Gojo stepped over the corpse, walking towards the boy who sat trembling near the trees. He crouched down next to him, watching as he gripped the knife - his knuckles turning white.

“It’ll get better, kid,” Gojo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, slowly removing the weapon from his grip with the other. “Don’t be in such a rush to end your youth. It’s a gift not everyone gets to enjoy.”

He stood bowing before running towards the street. Reina observed Gojo, his eyes followed as the boy rounded the corner - a strange look on his face. As if he reminded him of someone.

A crack sounded from the edge of the wood, she braced herself for the appearance of a second curse.

“You have got to be kidding me,” muttered Reina as a small white dog bounded towards Gojo from the trees, pouncing into his arms.

He twirled him in the air - shouting gleefully, “Pochi!”

Walking back to the town, the elderly woman stood conversing with the kid and his mother - he was crying as the woman hugged him. She ran towards Gojo, the dog barking happily at the reunion as it jumped towards her.

The mother of the young boy thanked Gojo profusely, bowing repeatedly as she held his hand tightly. Locals began to gather, taking turns shaking his hand. He accepted all of the praise with humility, desperately attempting to point them in Reina’s direction. Insistent that she had helped equally - a few had looked to her in response, thanking her.

The elderly woman looked to Reina with a nod of approval, Pochi wagging his tail in her arms.

She nudged Gojo, “Aren’t you going to thank your beautiful wife for all of her help?”

Excited murmurs spread through the crowd, the young women giggling - looking between Gojo and Reina.

He straightened, his eyes softened as he admired her - her appearance lighty tousled in the wake of the fight. He searched her face for permission as the older lady pushed him forward.

“Well, husband?” Reina cocked her head to the side, a smile playing on her lips. She had been instructed to play along.

A grin spread across his face as he reached for her, one hand rested on her cheek and the other on the side of her neck.

Reina held her breath in anticipation, her heart racing.

He leaned down, his cologne hugged her senses as his warm breath spread along her face.

Gojo’s lips pressed softly to hers, she let out a small gasp at the contact. He smiled against her mouth, moving his lips on hers. He leaned her head back, deepening the kiss - his tongue sliding against the inside of her bottom lip. Her moan slid into his mouth, Gojo groaned as he rubbed his thumb against her jaw.

“Oh, to be young again.” sighed the elderly woman.

Gojo pulled away slowly, his hands still connected. Reina could see a tinge of pink on his neck as she fought her own growing heat.

“Better than my dreams,” He mumbled low enough for her to hear.

——————————————————————————————————

“I’ll miss that dog,” Gojo swiped an imaginary tear over his blindfold. “Iyashi, can we get a-”

“Absolutely not.” Reina replied sternly, rolling their suitcases in the direction of the train.

Slumping into the window seat, Gojo leaned his head against the glass with a yawn.

Reina slipped in next to him, settling in comfortably. She leaned back against the headrest with a sigh.

Reaching a hand towards her face, she ran a finger along her bottom lip before swiping her tongue across the inside - it still tasted like him.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter eleven

23 notes · View notes

libbytwq · 2 days

Text

"Recieving Answers" part 1

next part: N/A

~♤◇♡♧~

SMGL:E walks slowly out of SMG1 and SMG2’s house, being careful to shut the door without making much noise. They let out a sigh in relief as the door shuts almost silently.

They look around and gaze up at the night sky. The stars were gorgeous. But now was not the time.

SMGL:E pulls out a small scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. Karen had found it this morning and handed it to her when SMGL:E stepped into McDonald’s. Neither knew where it came from.

It read:

Dearest SMGL:E,

Meet me by your USB. I may have the answers you’re looking for.

♡ An old friend

It was awfully sketchy, and awfully vague. But the idea of having closure to the gaps in his memories was worth every second, so SMGL:E speed walked in the direction of their USB.

The cool night air brushed their face and ruffled the fluff on their tanuki tail and blew through their fluffy ears. SMGL:E wore a serious and determined look on her face.

Closure... knowing about what happened before arriving in the Mushroom Kingdom... this is exactly everything SMGL:E could ever want!

Several little twinkles appear in the corner of SMGL:E’s line of vision. A pink one, a teal one, and a blue one. She sighs. They are used to these sparkles appearing at random points throughout the day and don’t want them to bother her now, not when she’s so close to having answers.

From the corner of his eye, she sees the teal spark whizz in front of her in some sort of shape, and for a moment, he thinks he saw the teal sparkle write a word, before it disappears as fast as it appeared.

Stop.

SMGL:E frowns and continues speed walking in the direction of his USB. They will ignore it.

The blue spark whizzes in front of him, just like the teal one, and forms another word.

Don’t.

SMGL:E groans and picks up the pace. They maneuver their way into the forest their USB is located.

Whatever these stupid sparkles are, they are trying to stop her from finding answers.

She will ignore them. They keep going.

The pink spark doesn’t form any words, but whizzes around her in speedy circles, and feels what feels like a hand grab their shoulder, but there’s nothing there, just pink sparkles, and it’s not enough to pull SMGL:E back. But it’s enough to startle him and yank her shoulder away.

They groan loudly, stop running, and yell out into the night, to wherever these sparkling entities are around them.

“Whatever you... things are, I want you to leave me alone for just this moment!!” SMGL:E shouts, frustrated. “This is my one chance at finding out a hint on who I actually am, I need answers, and you won’t take this away from me!”

They stop yelling, and wait for any type of response.

Nothing. No sparkles.

SMGL:E sighs in mild relief and wanders into the clearing of the forest, and spots the USB.

But there’s a person standing in front of it, their back facing her. Someone who looks familiar, but still someone she’s never met in their life.

They wore a dark gray vest and a white collared shirt, and long, sleek, black gloves that reached their elbows. They wore dark pants and knee high, sleek boots. Their hair was black and sleek, and in the silhouette of the night, they looked like they had fluffy gray ears, similar to the fluffy ears SMGL:E has, except her ears are purple.

SMGL:E swallows nervously and hesitantly steps closer. They clear their throat. Here goes nothing.

“...You wanted to see me?” Her voice wavered as she spoke.

The figure turned around and SMGL:E sees their face for the first time.

A familiar face, yet so unfamiliar. They had a singular curved, dark gray horn just above their forehead in the direct middle, and three eyes, two in normal spots and one on their forehead, with black in the spots the whites should be. Their pupils were a glowing white color, and they stared at SMGL:E, and a smile curves from their lips.

“I was hoping for the day I’d get to see you again,” they said. “I’ve missed you.”

They walk towards SMGL:E and grins. They were shorter in stature compared to SMGL:E.

SMGL:E tilts their head, a little nervous.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. When I crash-landed here, my memories were all out of whack-”

“That’s perfectly okay!” They say, the smile not leaving their face. It was comforting, but also... ominous, but SMGL:E wasn’t sure how. “I don’t blame you for your memories being a little fuzzy. It must be awfully terrifying not knowing what happened prior to this… but I’m here to offer you some answers.”

SMGL:E’s face lights up and she sighs.

“Thank you… what’s your name?”

The mysterious person smiles a soft smile, their glowing white pupils twinkling lightly.

“Ignatius.”

SMGL:E was a little stunned.

Ignatius… that sounded… extremely familiar…

SMGL:E had a habit of associating colors and words and objects and creatures with specific letters of the alphabet. I, J, K, L, M, N…

Something clicked in her brain.

These letters were people.

And Ignatius was the I.

They matched the exact vibe SMGL:E associated with I.

The one SMGL:E didn’t like thinking about for too long. The affection, yet the dread… the feeling of being able to meld with this person perfectly, yet the feeling like she will crumble if she allows that to happen… the one they associated with black and gray and white… the one they associated with the number three… it all made sense!

SMGL:E smiles softly, mildly nervously.

“…I don’t exactly remember you… but I remember your vibe…” SMGL:E says softly.

Even if the vibe was a little ominous, having some semblance of familiarity is a relief.

Ignatius smiled softly.

“What a relief… now for your introduction…”

SMGL:E glances around slowly, mildly confused.

“…You already know my name..? You wrote it on the paper you got to me…” SMGL:E says, tilting his head.

Ignatius chuckles under its breath.

“Maybe so, but you don’t know your name, now do you?”

SMGL:E feels even more confused.

“I do, though?” SMGL:E responds, puzzled. “It’s literally SMGL-“

“SMGLore.”

SMGL:E stops as Ignatius cuts her off.

Did… did they just…

She looks at Ignatius stunned, who just looks at her with a knowing smile.

“Your name, before your memory got wiped, was SMGLore,” it says, walking closer to them. “That’s what the L stands for. Lore.”

SMGL:E feels their heart race.

Lore…

SMGLore…

That was the name on the tip of her tongue that they were seemingly always unable to say. Every time she tried to say it, she glitches out a bit, as if he had forgotten it, despite not forgetting it.

“…SMGLore..?”

SMGL:E gasps when they realize they are able to say it.

“…oh my goodness… Lore… that’s me!”

She grows giddy and ecstatic. They can remember his name! After so long, she could remember what the L stood for!

Ignatius gazed up at SMGL:E lovingly, smiling softly. It had been a hot minute since it has seen her smile like that.

SMGL:E turns to Ignatius, beaming happily, before going to his chaotic performance grin.

“Now I can properly introduce myself to everyone I meet!” they proclaim loudly. “IT IS I, SUPER MEME GUARDIAN LORE!!”

The yelling echoes throughout the forest, and Ignatius chuckles softly.

“Do you want to keep the “Error” in your name, too?” it asks. “That’s what the E stood for in SMGL:E, right?”

She grins and shrugs.

“Eh. It gets to be a bit of a mouthful, y’know? Maybe I can drop the ‘Error’ sometimes.”

Ignatius chuckles, and SMGL:E’s smile softens. Despite this being the first time since they lost her memories they have heard Ignatius laugh, it feels like he’s heard it dozens of times before.

Ignatius steps closer to SMGL:E and puts both it’s hands on her shoulders and gazes up at them lovingly.

SMGL:E feels their heart skip a beat in his chest, and they blush lightly.

“Ignatius, hang on, what’re you-“

Before she could finish the sentence, Ignatius had pulled SMGL:E by the shoulders into a kiss.

SMGL:E freezes and doesn’t reciprocate the kiss immediately. Part of her felt horrified that this was happening, but part of them felt like this was right and perfect and wanted it to continue, and yet there was another part that felt ashamed for thinking that, because he wanted to save her first kiss for Karen, and now it had gotten pretty much stolen.

SMGL:E pries Ignatius off of her and breaks the kiss.

“W-Woah woah woah, hang on… what was that for?”

Ignatius was a little stunned when she parted the kiss, but composes itself.

“…Right, you don’t remember…” they say, smiling softly. “…We loved each other, Lore, y’know. Before your memories got lost.”

SMGL:E blushes and sighs.

“…Okay, maybe we were a couple back before I ended up here, but even if you’ve known me all your life, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve only known you for two minutes, so having my first kiss stolen by someone I’ve only known for two minutes is… yeesh…”

Ignatius’s eye twitches.

“That was far from your first kiss though, darling…” they say, a loving smile on its face.

SMGL:E blushes and frowns.

“Okay, whatever, but that felt like my first kiss…” they grumble softly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I was saving it for someone that wasn’t you.”

Ignatius’s smile falters for a moment, but quickly regains themselves.

“Someone else..? Who else could there possibly be?” they say.

SMGL:E almost names Karen, but feels the colorful sparkles from earlier return. SMGL:E feels a little frustrated that they’ve returned despite her yelling at them, but doesn’t show it on her face. Ignatius can’t seem to see the sparkles, which is a bit of a relief.

SMGL:E feels the phantom hand of the pink sparkle gently tug on their arm, almost as if it wanted her to stop speaking. SMGL:E sighs and decides not to say Karen’s name.

“It’s none of your business,” he says. “I came here for answers about my past, not small talk about my love life. I don’t want to focus on our history quite yet… I just want to know what’s going on. Tell me where I came from, what am I, how I got here… everything you know…”

Ignatius looks a little less happy than it was earlier, but smiles softly anyway. SMGL:E swears she saw a flicker of Ignatius’s hair drift up like a piece of ash from a fire into the night.

From the corner of her eye, SMGL:E sees the three sparkles whizzing around, the pink, teal and blue all writing out a word.

Unreliable.

SMGL:E pays it no mind and looks down at Ignatius again, who smiles a charming, yet eerie smile.

“…Very well. I will tell you all I know.”

end of part 1

~♤◇♡♧~

#woah whats this i wrote something #character name drop???? oooo #smgl:e #smg4 #smg4 fanfic #my writing #smgl:e ignatius #smgl:e x ignatius #smgl:e x karen #smg4 karen #smgloren #i will make art of this soon i swear

17 notes · View notes

shitpostdevil · 5 months

Text

watching this blog come together is kind of wild

like I would actually perish at this point if it disappeared bc I've put so much work into it

#i can very confidently say that i have never really understood what it meant to “feel like myself again”#i killed off so many worse versions of myself i thought there was nothing left #but truly #i am writing again; and have found so much passion in an art i used to indulge in constantly #im making art that i actually enjoy and dont think is complete shit because of my inability to conquer traditional media the way i want to #I FUCKING COSPLAY WITH MY PARTNER #and indulge in anime/manga pretty consistently #that is something i used to get made fun of for by someone who was supposed to be a parent #it took me a very long time to not feel stupid in cosplay #sometimes i still do #but IM DOING IT!!!#even if its not amazing #or i look like shit #or my art looks like shit #or my writing is shit #at least im fucking DOING something #pushing towards goals #practicing #every step i take is a step in the direction i want to be in #i am enough #i am allowed to take up space #ive seriously got this #theres nothing to be scared of anymore #the only thing that i continue to struggle with is my own mental and physical illness #but i am learning and adapting more and more every day #IM FORGETTING HOW TO HATE MYSELF I SAVED MY OWN LIFE #yapping

0 notes

thedevillionaire · 9 months

Note

Hi, I hope this is all right asking like this. I found your blog and fics recently and they're amazing, I love them. I was wondering, do you have a meet cute for Ceberus and Kia, and if you don't is that something you would maybe consider writing some time? Thank you!

Hey, anon, and thank you back for the lovely compliment! ❤️ So...I do have a meet cute - well, a meet, anyway; you get to decide whether it's cute or not, I guess 😅 - but it's vanilla, I'm afraid. This is not the first time I've been asked about how they met, though, so I'm finally activating the "vanilla fic holding place" sideblog I've thought about activating for, uh...quite a while. Anyhow, if you've got any interest in that at all, I actually have a whole series of this stuff and if you still want to check it out you can find the fic of first time they meet here.

#i'm not going to use this sideblog for anything other than a place to put vanilla fics #i'm not after a wider non-snz audience for this #but anyway if you'd like to take a further step into my ridiculous world i'd be fucking honoured and delighted #the crimson charisma is the 'official' title of my supernatural soap opera #not that it matters really because it's not a proper novel or anything and is almost certainly never going to be one #but it has a name nonetheless so...there it is #A few of you have read this already and I love every single one of you 💗💗💗#i'll put links to any further vanilla postings in my masterlist and make a post about it being there #so i'll just post on the sideblog and post directions to it here #because i have more of this stuff but i don't want to post a bunch of vanilla stuff on snzblr #also not that it's likely but please don't reblog the vanilla stuff outside of snzblr #not snz

23 notes · View notes

nerice · 2 years

Text

im still coming to terms with the loss and deterioration. at the end of 2018 i went to japan and was fairly fluent. 2019 was a struggle but yknow, i was still on track! i was going to finish uni next year! and then covid happened and everything ground to a halt. i genuinely only have 4 memories of 2021. 2022 was the worst year of my life, but i made it through & i am genuinely excited for 2023 but it is... scary. i might have to look for a new job, i want to take better care of my health, and most of all, i will go back to japan in november if all goes well. 5 years at that point and my language skills have degraded significantly and i don't know if among all other things i will have the time/energy to beef up my japanese to at least the point is was in 2018 (tho id love to aim for n2..) it will not be the end of the world even if i go there on only rudimentary skills but.. it would be nice to be decent at it again. it's a thematic thruline from teaching myself as a teen to finding what i am good at in uni...... and it has degraded to almost nothing. and it's sad and i have to allow myself to grieve that and at the same time trust that all that buried knowledge will come back to me, but. i cannot do everything at once. i cannot write and draw and get buff at japanese all in one year and then have All The Skills for the rest of my life that is not how it works. i would like to find a balance but..... i have to accept that things take time, and that studying has to be enjoyable rather than a merciless grind back to Who I Once Was

#elia txts #sorry its. end of the year thoughts #i would love to get my shit in order and just spend a lot of time studying both art and japanese. but currently i cannot even sit at a desk #for an extended period of time without it fucking me up #health has to come first. i want to be healthy i want my body to be strong and that will be the foundation for everything else #and that's going to take time and effort and that is fine. every step away from what this year was is a step in the right direction

3 notes · View notes

shiroselia · 4 days

Text

Genuinely hilarious that one of the most intense and arguably cool things I'm going to do in Squirrel Punt entirely stems from my Complete lack of desire to deal with Mr Sands, including forgetting that I needed to like. do something with him, and my complete inability to be assed to fit the dark riders into Squirrel Punt because that plot just does Not have the space for them

#So Instead I REDACTED REDACTED SPOILER SPOILER YOU'RE GOING TO SEE #This is the thing that I like to talk about regarding the archive warnings btw #The objectively cool thing I'm going to do is a Direct result of me needing to get Mr Sands the FUCK out of there lmfao #Worth tho #Because now it's actually turned out kind of cool #Deilight #Squirrel Punt #This is Guessable by the end of QuintSum tho #Especially since I plan on making it More foreshadowed now that I have the means to do so #I'm not kidding about the whole plot thing btw #Squirrel Punt is legitimately Incredibly cramped #And it's literally about One thing #It's literally about the girls deciding on One Thing and then taking every step they need to get there #There's just a lot more steps than they think #Because yknow I can't keep shit short even if I want to #THIS however I don't want to keep short I have LORE to drop I can't RUSH THAT #Especially since I change basically everything and I need to take the time with that

0 notes

sttoru · 6 months

Note

sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk angst #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst

17K notes · View notes