If you want a woman to have fat titties and a fat ass but can't handle the accompanying fat tummy, arms, and legs, then you are a coward and your bloodline will not survive the winter.
.☘︎ ݁˖ one careless swipe, one dumb slip while showing him a video, and now your shame is sprawled across his screen.
“so you’re into that?” satoru grins from where he’s sprawled across your bed, long legs spread careless, phone dangling between two fingers like he owns it. “male moaning audios? that’s your thing?”
your stomach drops hard enough to leave you dizzy. “give me my phone back.”
he ignores you, of course. his voice goes all drawn-out and theatrical, dragging out every syllable like it’s the funniest shit in the world. “‘ahh—fuck, baby,’” he mimics, except it’s high-pitched, wrong, and paired with that exaggerated face he makes when he’s trying to piss you off.
“stop,” you groan, burying your face in your hands, heat crawling up your neck.
“what? i’m just givin’ you what you want.” he gasps dramatically, pitching his voice even higher, clutching his chest like a bad soap opera actor. “‘ohhh yeahhh.’”
something in you snaps. maybe shame, maybe the urge to shut him up, maybe both—but suddenly you’re climbing into his lap, straddling him, palms planted on his chest.
his grin doesn’t falter, not even a little. if anything, it sharpens, like this is all just extra entertainment. “woah, aggressive. you tryna shut me up, princess?”
“exactly,” you mutter, leaning into him, feeling the faint give of muscle under his t-shirt, the steady thrum of his pulse where your fingers press, you’re ignoring the heat pooling low in your belly.
he just laughs, low and unbothered, rolling his eyes like he’s bored. “cute. really think you can boss me around?”
you’re about to fire back, but then it happens—an accident. your hips shift—small, thoughtless—and the angle is too precise. the quick pleasure stupidly perfect. his cockhead, thick and straining beneath his sweats, catches right against your clothed pussy, right where it shouldn’t.
the sound that rips out of him isn’t planned. isn’t teased. it’s raw, cut straight from his throat: a moan. low, rough, startled, almost pained in how real it is.
you freeze like someone pulled the plug on you.
he does too. his eyes go wide, mouth parting like he can’t believe what just slipped past him.
your heart spikes into your throat. heat floods you so fast it’s humiliating. your panties go wet instantly, embarrassingly, because it’s nothing like the fake noises he mocked you with—it’s real. it’s unfiltered. and it’s beautiful.
“fuck,” he mutters, face screwing up as he shoves a hand over his mouth like he can shove the sound back inside.
you just stare down at him, breath snagging in your chest, nails curling into the soft cotton of his shirt.
he drags his palm down his face with a groan, ears flushed red. “nah, that didn’t happen. you didn’t hear shit.”
“satoru,” you whisper, too quiet, almost reverent.
“don’t,” he warns, eyes narrowing like he still has the upper hand, but he’s already given himself away—the faint tremor in his chest where you’re pressing down, the uneven rhythm of his breath, the way his throat works like he’s fighting another one back.
and you can’t stop thinking about it. how easy it’d be to roll your hips again. just to chase it. just to make him moan like that one more time.
nerd!gojo has his head tucked between your thighs, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he devours your pussy with the rapt focus he usually reserves for devouring textbooks.
"did you know," he mumbles against you, tongue sliding slow but sure, "that the clitoris has over eight thousand nerve endings?" he curls his tongue just so, as if proving a hypothesis.
"and the inner bulbs wrap around the vaginal canal... that's why stimulation here can—hey, are you okay?" he cuts off, frowning when your whole body jolts, a sudden, violent shudder. "oh."
mortification hits harder than the orgasm.
"oh my god, toru, i-"
the lenses are streaked with pearly fluid, slick trails sliding down in thin rivulets until they gather at the rims, blurring his gaze in a milky haze. fuck… your nerd boyfriend looks so pretty like this: swollen lips glossed with spit and slick, big blue eyes blinking up through the blurred glass as he pushes his cum-smeared frames higher with his wrist.
"that's normal," he assures you, with the same gentle tone he uses when walking you through flashcards. "it's just fluid from the paraurethral glands... it means i'm doing it right." he looks so proud of himself, having pulled a fact and an orgasm out of you in the same breath. he doesn't bother wiping his glasses. doesn't so much as blink when another drop slides down the lens. he ducks back down happily, kissing the inside of your thigh before spreading you open again.
you were on a mission, and the mission must be to get caleb to lose his mind.
★pairing: caleb x reader
★wc: 1.9k
★content: old days (high school era), fluff, (mutual) pining, love letter confession (under the guise of "practicing"), caleb's pov.
★a/n: I had love letters on the brain and thought of this! I might end up doing a part 2 set during stage observer, where the "love letter" you find is the one here hehe
★masterlist
You were lurking.
Caleb paused in his studying for the umpteenth time that afternoon, glancing back to where your shadow crept under his door. You'd passed back and forth behind it for the past fifteen minutes, and he was too focused on his essay to call you out on it.
But as he wrapped up all his main points in the conclusion, he called without looking back, "Stop hovering, pips, you know I don't bite."
He smirked to himself when he heard you grumble on the other side, the door flying open and slamming shut in an instant.
"Not funny," you mumbled at his jab towards your old biting habits, and he directed his smirk over his shoulder at you.
You were still lingering on the edge of the room, and his joy quickly faded. He turned around in his desk chair to face you fully.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing," you said quickly, but your hands were behind your back the whole time, fidgeting with something he couldn't see.
Your eyes weren't meeting his either, and his head tilted, arching an eyebrow.
"Come over here," he urged you gently, patting the extra chair he kept next to his desk, just for when you wanted to come in and study with him.
Or, more likely, to pester him until he paid attention to you while he was trying to do his own homework.
You hesitated, then slowly came up, plopping down in the chair with your hands still behind your back.
"You gonna show me what you're holdin' onto so tightly there?"
You glared at him, and he just smiled sweetly, chin propped on his palm, trying to wear down your defenses.
It gave a boost to his pride when it worked, your shoulders deflating with a big sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, and he tensed again.
Were you being bullied? Did you fail a test? Or was it the nightmares again?
Whatever he thought might be wrong, it definitely wasn't you admitting that, "I want to write a love letter."
Caleb stiffened, his mind going to every dark place he tried to hide away from himself, every face of some loser with a hopeless crush on you flashing in his mind.
Outwardly, he tried to hide his troubled expression, but his brows furrowed anyway.
"Why do you want to write a love letter?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. But it was tight, his posture stiff when he looked down at his essay again, no longer seeing the words there. "You got someone in mind?"
"Well—no."
Caleb dared to look back up to see you were pouting. And even with the restless storm in his mind, he had to resist the urge to pinch the apples of your cheeks when they were all puffed out so cutely like that.
"But what if I do want to write one eventually?" you continued, in clear distress over a hypothetical situation that he hoped would never exist one day. "And I don't know how, and I just look stupid!"
"You'd never look stupid," he said quickly, effortlessly and honest, even as he frowned deeper at your explanation. "But I told you before, pips, letters are our thing. Why would you—"
He stopped short, breath catching in his throat when he finally saw what was in your hands as you held it out to him.
Across the front of an envelope of antique looking parchment, written carefully in cursive (you never used cursive, you hated how your handwriting looked in it, even though he thought it was perfect and pretty), was the letters spelling out his name.
Caleb looked from it, to you, then down to the envelope again.
"What's—"
"Practice," you interrupted, shoving it into his chest, and he scrambled to grab it. "I need you to tell me if it's any good."
"Pipsqueak, you—" Caleb cleared his throat, shifting nervously, his fingers almost shaking when he grazed them over his name. "You wrote me a love letter?"
"For practice!"
He laughed, and he hoped you didn't hear how winded the noise sounded. Because you'd sure stolen the breath right from his lungs with how you nervously fidgeted, avoiding his eyes, your love letter in his hands.
Your love letter.
For him.
Oh god.
He carefully unsealed the tape (one of your favorite decorative ones, with the cute little red and green apples dancing together), his heart in his throat as he pulled the letter out.
And oh god it smelled like that perfume you'd begged Gran to get you for your birthday, the one that was warm with vanilla and cinnamon and a hint of apples and it smelled amazing you were amazing you—
"Stop treating it like it's a bomb!" you complained, smacking him in the chest, and he laughed anxiously.
"I'm not!" he argued, not knowing how to tell you that this was something precious, something delicate, and he never trusted himself to not break something that special in his hands.
He got stuck for a moment on the Dearest Caleb that started out the letter, his fingertips brushing across it, before he forced himself to get past his nerves and read the first sentence.
A laugh got caught in his throat unbidden, and you were scrambling all over him in an instant, trying to grab it back as you shouted, "What? What?! What's so funny?"
"I am writing to you today," he repeated the start of your opening line, grinning at you as you whined and shook him. "This sure is a formal love letter. Are you courting me, pipsqueak?"
"Shut up!" you snapped, pinching him in the side, and he jumped with an over dramatic ow! "Give it back!"
"Noooope, it's mine now!" He grinned, wrapping his arm around you to keep you pressed to his side, and you playfully punched him while he held the letter over your head and kept reading silently.
'I am writing to you today to tell you what I've wanted to say for a really long time.'
Oh.
Caleb sucked in an unsteady breath, eyelashes fluttering with the indescribable emotion that swept through him.
It's just practice, he told himself over and over as you settled into his side. Your arms wrapped around his waist for comfort, your face burying into his chest with embarrassment. You don't mean it.
And then the next sentence hit.
'I like you, Caleb.'
Oh.
'I like you so much that it's hard to focus on anything but you. I think about you when I'm with you or when you're gone. I think about you during class, or when I'm watching your games, or when you make my favorite snacks after school.'
'I'm always thinking about how I want to hold your hand for longer when you walk me home. I want to hold you tighter when you hug me, and kiss—'
Caleb glanced away, eyes squeezing shut, face tilted up towards the ceiling as he mouthed a silent prayer that he didn't completely lose his mind right now.
Then he dared to look back down, to keep reading:
'—and kiss you on the sidewalk, in the rain, when you hold an umbrella over my head.'
He glanced at the top of your head, at how you held onto him so tightly, hoping against all hope that you couldn't hear or feel how his heart was pounding against his chest right now.
'You're cute, and you're funny, and you've always been nice to me, even when you're pretending to be mean just to tease me.'
"Caleb," you whined, poking him in the ribs as he read through each line carefully. "What do you think?"
"Well, so far it sounds like a birthday card," he teased, lying through his teeth just so you couldn't see right through him and tell how madly in love with you he was, as he'd always been.
You dropped your head onto his shoulder with a groan.
"But give me some time," he said softly. "I'm still makin' my way through it."
"Well, hurry up!" you poked at him impatiently again, and he brushed your hand aside with a laugh.
'You're my best friend, and I want you to be more than that, if you want it too.'
He could almost laugh at that if he wasn't so winded with emotion. If he wanted it. Like you weren't teasing him with all he's ever wanted, and telling him it was practice.
And then the last line hit him right where it hurt the most, in the part of him that's always ached for you, burrowing in there to stay.
'Would you ever be mine?'
"Well?" you said, untangling yourself from his slack grip. You bounced anxiously in your seat, and he hoped you couldn't see how red his face had gotten. "How is it? Did it make your heart flutter?"
Flutter? It nearly gave him a heart attack.
He wanted to give you a real answer to your fake question, to tell you yes. He wanted to scream it to the heavens, wanted to grab your face and kiss you all over and say yes. He would. He already was.
Caleb cleared his throat.
"It's good," his voice cracked when he said it and oh, god, could you see right through him?
"Really?"
You leaned closer, and Caleb quickly scrambled back, as far in the other direction as he could get as you kept creeping closer.
"Yeah, pips, real good," he complimented, carefully tucking the letter back into the envelope, his heart racing. "But, uh, you should keep practicing. On me."
You frowned a little, disappointed as always when you felt like you didn't nail something right on the first try. And he didn't have the guts to tell you that you absolutely did hit it right out of the park, his head all the way up in the clouds with the daydreams you'd fueled for him for the foreseeable future.
"Okay," you muttered, eyes downcast, and his heart ached.
"Hey," Caleb said softly, ruffling your hair gently. You peered up at him through your lashes with a pout, and he just about melted. "I told you it was good, didn't I?"
You sniffed, and he only then noticed your eyes were all teary. "Is it really?"
"Yeah." He rubbed his thumb at the corner of each of your eyes, trying to not look too adoring to cross a line when you leaned into his palm. "My heart's all a-flutter. Promise."
You smiled into his hand, and his heart skipped a beat again.
"Okay," you said with newfound determination, giving a resolute nod. "I'll keep practicing. Watch out for the next one, you'll be in love with me before you know it!"
Caleb choked on air at that.
He let you get all the way to the door, and listened to you open it before his resolve cracked.
"I would."
You paused, glancing back over your shoulder at him.
"Would what?" you asked, and Caleb let out a breathless laugh.
"Nothin', pipsqueak," he brushed off, pulling his textbook closer to himself, staring at the words that blended together, your letter on his desk still in the corner of his eyesight.
For a moment, you stayed in his doorway behind him. He could feel you staring. And he almost looked back.
What face were you making? he wondered. Was it the same as his?
Was the same hidden part of him hidden in you as well?
But then the door shut behind you, and Caleb collapsed with a heavy sigh, head banging against the desk.
"What are you doin' to me, pips?" he whispered under his breath, lovesick and bringing the letter up to his lips to kiss it with a dazed smile. "Whatever it is, please keep doin' it."
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inspired by the song guess by Charli XCX feat.Billie :)
the party is soft and slow—a small group of friends, scattered between floor cushions and low sofas, sunlight bleeding through the windows. it's an easy, quiet afternoon.
well, for you, at least. because, apparently, caleb is fighting for his life.
you're perched on his thighs—stretched out on the couch, back flush against his chest. his hands are draped on your stomach keeping you in place as his face is hidden behind your shoulder, his fluffy hair tickling your cheek.
he hasn't said a word in minutes…
not since you bend forward to grab your drink from the coffee table in front of you. your jeans dipped low enough to flash the lace of your panties—his panties. the one with the tiny bows, the one he picked out for you so thoroughly in Tokyo.
poor boy :(( he's trying so hard to act normal in front of your friends, trying not to get a full boner over a pair of panties…
“is caleb okay?” someone asks, a little concerned.
“oh…yeah,” you purr, one hand reaching up to run your fingers through his messy curls, voice dripping with false sympathy. “he's probably tired. had a long shift last night.”
caleb lets out a shaky breath behind you—trying to will his dick soft by sheer force of embarrassment. you can feel caleb's thighs tensing under you, his arms pulling you closer, fingers gripping tighter around the softness of your stomach.
you let him take all your weight on his crotch, feeling him twitch and struggle to keep his cool. if he looked up now, everyone would see how red his face is, how glassy his eyes are, how swollen his lips are from biting back the noise you're dragging out of him with nothing but your body weight and a lace tease.
and as if it wasn't enough, you feel a bit more playful and grind just a little—innocent enough for everyone else in the room, but enough for a whimper to crack out of his throat, swallowed instantly into your skin—biting right onto your shoulder to keep from moaning.
in the tiniest, broken voice, he whispers “babe…don't be mean...it's already hard to know you're wearing the lacy black pair with the little bows…the ones i bought you…”
you hum softly, dragging your teeth along his earlobe. “poor sweet boy," you mock. "do you wanna put ‘em in your mouth? pull ’em all down south? is that what you're thinking about while our friends are right here?”
he shudders—breath coming in fast. one of his hand come to hold onto your hips debating whether to beg or bolt.
and you rock again—harder this time. he gasps, teeth sinking into your skin, muffling a desperate little moan.
you're fulling smiling now, sipping from your glass like nothing's happening while he drowns beneath you. “keep it together, baby.” you coo, voice syrup-sweet. “be good for me yeah? don't wanna embarrass yourself in front of all your friends. just sit there all pretty and nice.”
he lets out a choked little noise and buries his face deeper into your neck—trying so hard not to rut against you like a desperate animal.
“behave yourself, be sweet and quiet and maybe, maybe, i'll let you eat tonight."
caleb nods frantically, eyes squeezed shut—trying not to blow his load just from your fat ass sitting heavy on his cock and the thought of nuzzling into your clothed cunt like an obedient puppy :(
he’s been hovering around you all day, lurking like some kind of socially inept ghost, arms crossed, eyes darting away every time you look at him for too long. at first, you think he’s mad about something. then you remember rin’s always mad about something, so that’s not exactly new.
but this? this is new.
“are you okay?” you finally ask, shutting your locker as you turn to face him.
rin makes a face like he just swallowed his own pride whole. “yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”
you raise an eyebrow. “because you’ve been staring at me like you have something to say, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”
he exhales sharply, muttering something under his breath. you catch the words “stupid” and “why is this so hard” before he finally, finally spits it out.
“be my girlfriend.”
it’s not a question. it’s barely even a request. he just says it, flat and awkward and a little demanding, like he’s forcing the words out against his will. his ears are tinted red.
you blink. “huh?”
“you heard me.” he shifts his weight from foot to foot, clearly resisting the urge to look away. “don’t make me say it again.”
a grin creeps onto your face. “are you asking me or telling me?”
rin glares at you, but it’s weaker than usual, like he’s one second away from combusting. “just answer the damn question.”
you let the silence stretch for a moment, just to mess with him, before shrugging. “sure.”
his shoulders relax, but only slightly. “good.”
“good,” you echo, amused. “you’re really bad at this, by the way.”
you were feeling particularly mischievous that day.
and when you were feeling mischievous, your lover had to be prepared— because a mischievous you sometimes had the tendency to be unpredictable.
he loved kissing you multiple times throughout the day— he'd lean into it subconsciously, even, be it on your lips, cheeks, forehead, the tip of your nose or the top your hair. because according to him, life would be devoid of any and all meanings if he could not kiss you.
so when you suddenly pretended to move away to reach for something just as he was about to lean in for a kiss, he paused midway, brows furrowing.
surely that wasn't intentional. ..right? right?
it didn't take longer than a second for you to notice the subtle distress on his face from the corner of your eye, and you were trying— trying— to not outright grin mischievously.
naturally, he had to confirm this strange phenomenon. so he leaned in again, only for you to take a step back, now "inspecting" the item you had just retrieved earlier.
now, this man was no fool. (a fool for you, though.) you had just dodged his kisses twice at the perfect time. he could swear he felt his world shift upside down.
why were you dodging like that? were you mad? was something wrong? did he—
then, he caught it; the twitch of your lips and the stolen glance. ah. so that's how it was.
his eyes narrowed, thoroughly observing you. yet, the playful gleam in his gaze was unmistakable now.
"doing this now, are we?" the amusement in his voice was all too clear.
you feigned innocence, tilting your head, yet not bothering to hide the curve of your lips. "hm? oh, i have no idea what you're talking about."
he took a step forward.
you took one back.
he took another.
and before he knew it, you bolted.
"hey—!"
your laughter echoed throughout the house as you ran, and he wasted no time before following right after. you were fast, impressively so— you somehow managed to weave through the furniture with ease, going as far as to swiftly place a chair in the way before he could reach you.
however, a man chasing after what was rightfully his was not to be underestimated.
he was, of course, fast as well. he could close the distance right now if he wanted to, but where was the fun in that? if you wanted a game, he would happily indulge you.
he pretended to almost catch you when his fingertips barely grazed your arm in an attempt to reach you, to which you responded with a shriek as you sped up, reaching behind the kitchen island.
"too slow!" you giggled, gripping the edge of the counter, ready to skid away any moment.
"oh, you wound me, sweetheart," he sighed, "depriving a man of kissing his beloved? how cruel."
"catch me, then." you challenged, your heartbeat thrumming with adrenaline.
he noticed the way your body subtly shifted towards the left.
so, he pretended to go towards the right.
and just as you moved away from behind the counter, he effortlessly changed directions, your brain failing to catch up with the sudden movement as a pair of arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, your back colliding with the familiar warmth.
"what—"
you were suddenly weightless as he spun you around.
"h-hey!— put me down!" you squealed, not being able to suppress the unrestrained laughter spilling from your lips.
"do you yield?"
"nah—"
he spun, again.
"FINE! fine! put me down now, you menace!"
he chuckled, gently placing you down, although his arms never left your waist. you turned around, slightly tumbling against his chest, before squinting your eyes at him.
"you cheated," you half-heartedly jabbed a finger into his chest.
"you cheated first by not letting me kiss you," he leaned down, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as his lips hovered above your own. "and i'm here to fix that."
just as you were about to formulate a response, his tongue glided over your bottom lip— before capturing it between his own. he didn't rush the kiss, no, it was slow, deliberate, utterly thorough, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of that kiss and drown in it. and yet, the heat in it was unmistakable. his fingers slithered to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your body practically molded against his. a tilt of your head— and suddenly, he was kissing you deeper, swallowing your sounds that escaped between the kiss.
he finally pulled away, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he rested his forehead on yours, taking in the sight of your dazed eyes and the soft exhales leaving your parted lips.
".. that's unfair."
"you should know by now that i don't lose when it comes to you, darling."
and when he pulled you in for another kiss, it was anything but unhurried.
zayne whose brain goes dead when u sit on his lap and dry hump him so much so he can’t even kiss you back because his jaw is slack n he’s gasping and moaning each time you rub yourself against the very obviously bulge in his pants
CRASH COURSE ﾉ xia caleb x female reader ៹ explicit content, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions of cheating (none actually happens), pet names (pipsqueak (sorry but i have to be accurate) gege, good girl), instructional sex, blowjobs, creampie, idk what this is i wrote it in 5 seconds i just needed an excuse to write caleb, not proofread :( ˓˓ WORD COUNT ᨀ 4.9k !
asking the boy you’ve known nearly your entire life to teach you how to have sex isn’t weird, right...? right?
caleb has taught you a lot of things over the years.
he taught you how to drive a car in the shopping mall’s parking lot, how to cheat at card games, how to avoid burning the house down by letting him cook for you instead, how to sneak underneath the turnstiles on the subway to avoid fees.
he’s reliable and sturdy and a little reckless, but also patient and nonjudgmental— creating the idea in your idea that he’s kind of all-knowing, that whenever you don’t know something caleb does, that whenever you need help, you turn to no one else but him. which is precisely why you’re standing outside the door of his bedroom right now, hand lifted to knock on it.
because surely, asking caleb to teach you how to give a blowjob falls somewhere underneath that category too, right?
it’s one of those rare moments when the two of you are off work at the same time. caleb, on annual leave for the next two weeks and you, taking out a handful of unused vacation days to spend time with your favorite person in the world. it’s like old times again, when you can simply walk down the hall and hear his laugh drifting from underneath the door as he plays some stupid video game with college buddies.
thinking of the old days is exactly why you’re hesitating at the door. there’s too much shared history between the two of you, too much to lose if this goes badly, if you’ve been reading him wrong all along and he doesn’t want the same thing. there’s no way you can march in there and ask the boy you were raised with teach you how to—
“door’s open, pipsqueak,” caleb calls, somehow knowing you’re there because of course he does. you used to complain that he must’ve secretly implanted a tracker in your arm because he always knows your whereabouts, which made games like hide and seek with him impossible.
knowing it’s too late to play it off, you walk inside his room, greeted by his devastatingly gorgeous grin. “hey, you. lemme guess— the fridge is empty? no? lightbulb in your room need changing again? huh… or did you just miss me?”
“uh,” you mumble, shifting your toes in the soft carpet of the rug in the middle of his room. “not exactly. i was just wondering if you had time to talk and— … you’re not wearing a shirt.”
you realize how dumb you sound as you point it out, it’s just that your brain short-circuits, turning into a syrupy mess at the sight of caleb without a shirt on, his dog tags resting against bare skin. you’ve seen him like this before, of course— but not since he up and left, gallivanting off into the world to become a hotshot military pilot.
he’s always been nice to look at when you think he isn’t paying attention, but god he’s pretty. your eyes blink almost in disbelief as you take in his broad, muscular form that did not exist while he was a cadet in basic training. your gaze can’t help but snag on the ripple of his abs, or the thatch of brown hair trailing from his navel to disappear beneath his gray sweats. he swivels in his stupid gaming chair, smiling at you with his stupid face—
“uh, yeah?” caleb laughs, forehead creasing in confusion like you shouldn’t be surprised and really, you shouldn’t. caleb is like a furnace, blood running hot even in the middle of winter. “gran’s got the heat turned up to max again. it’s like she wants to kill me.”
“yeah, right,” you shake your head, laughing skittishly. “sorry. i’ve got a fan you can borrow, if you want.”
“thanks,” he says, magenta eyes dragging over your form suspiciously, taking in the way you’re standing in the middle of his room fidgeting like a leaf in the wind, hands white-knuckling the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, knees knocking together all nervous and cute. he frowns, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to give you his full attention in that heart-stuttering way he often does.
“what’s with you? not that i’m not glad to see you, but… did something happen? did someone do something to you?”
“no, no— nothing like that,” you hurry to reassure, voice cracking on the last word as your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment, trying to find the words to say what you need to without crashing and burning. swallowing around a lump in your throat, you glance at the paused screen of caleb’s game before blurting out—
“can you teach me how to give a blowjob?”
caleb immediately chokes.
a lesson on what not to do.
the overclocked fans on caleb’s gaming rig whirs in a soft hum, the neon lights in his room flickering crimson streaks over his handsome face in the dark. he wonders if it’s post traumatic stress or prolonged exposure to cosmic radiation in the sky forcing him to hallucinate. obviously, he’s got too many marbles in one jar and not enough in the other because there is no way he’s heard you correctly.
slowly, he removes his headset. “come again?”
“i’m awful at it, ge,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in exasperation. in fact, you don’t know if you’re awful at it or not because you’ve never tried. you’ve been too busy waiting on the man in front of you to stop torturing you both, but caleb doesn’t need to know that. “you see, i’m dating this guy, right? and we’ve been hitting it off well. i can tell he wants to take it to the next level, but i’ve never… and you— you’re good at everything, so i just thought…”
“thought i would give you lessons,” he finishes for you, his voice deepening to a rougher edge that makes you shiver. “so you can suck your boyfriend better. do i have it right?”
“y-yeah…”
“since when do you even have a boyfriend? you didn’t tell me anything,” he says, doing nothing to mask the disappointment in his voice.
“uh, we’ve… been seeing each other for a couple of weeks?” you fumble, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “i didn’t want to say anything yet. in case it didn’t work out.”
“so you want to learn how to suck dick for a guy you’ve known for a couple of weeks?” he counters, a muscle in his jaw twitching. he’s got no right to feel jealousy, not when he’s wasted so much time attempting to be one thing in your life when you clearly wanted something else. he’s got no right, but the thought of you on your knees for someone else, someone that isn’t him, makes his blood boil enough that he already knows what his answer will be.
however, you’re already backing up towards the door, about to make a quick retreat. your plan was horrible, shame burning your skin like a brand. “what am i saying? oh my god, you’re right it’s stupid and wrong and gross. can we please just forget i even came in here—”
he lets you ramble for an excruciatingly long time, then he pushes out of his gaming chair and grins down at you like you just asked him to make a quick run to the convenience store. he stretches his arms above his head. “let’s do it.”
“w-what?”
you didn’t expect to get this far, honestly. you expected caleb to laugh at you, ruffle your hair, and call you ridiculous. but instead, he’s already striding to his door, thumb flicking the lock with a decisive click. when he turns, his expression makes your breath hitch— those unusual purple eyes molten, staring straight through you.
“first thing’s first, we need to lay down some ground rules, soldier,” caleb tells you playfully, stepping closer until your breasts brush against his midsection. his hand lifts, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “if you need to back out at any moment, you say so. no guy’s pleasure is worth your discomfort. and if i hear his name, whatever it is…” he pauses, eyes narrowing. “this stops. understood?”
you nod eagerly, fighting your smile as his scent envelopes you. he smells like spearmint gum, your shampoo that he’s been stealing since the two of you have been back at the house, and a hint of swear from the stifling air in the room.
“use your words, pipsqueak.”
“y-yeah, i get it.”
his smirk is all teeth. “good girl.”
caleb guides you over to his bed, sitting down on the edge. his big hands reach for you, circling your hips and pulling you towards him until you’re standing in between his spread thighs.
“alright, my little student,” he jokes. “you wanna get him all riled up before the main event so start with something small like… a kiss,” he murmurs, eyes lifting to glance at your mouth as his finger traces the hinge of your jaw. “you do know how to kiss, don’t you?”
“of course i know how to kiss,” you grumble.
caleb nods and then curls his hand around the nape of your neck, pulling you down to his level. you lean with the pressure, slotting your hands in the junction between his neck and shoulder, sliding them up until you cup the underside of his jaw. then, you’re kissing him— kissing caleb, the boy who used to patch up your scraped knees with cute band-aids, who let you crawl into his bed after nightmares, who pretends he hasn’t thought about kissing you, about making you his, for years.
the kiss is messy, desperate and hungry, decades of pent up feelings behind it. a string of saliva keeps your mouths linked together whenever you pull back for air and when caleb’s tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you whimper and part your lips to let him in, body melting against his front until your weight’s toppling him back onto his elbows, hitching your leg over his waist to crawl on top of him.
his grip on your waist tightens, gently pushing you to stand once more. “this is feeling less like a lesson, and more like you just wanting to do this with me,” he teases, making heat flare across your cheeks.
caleb guides your hand to the waistband of his sweatpants, the heat radiating through the fabric searing your palm. breath hitching, you begin to sink to the floor in front of him but his hand shoots out to stop your descent with a breathy laugh. “no no no, c’mere. you’re gonna hurt your knees down there.”
backing up, he moves until he’s lounging against the headboard, impossibly long legs stretched out on either side of your sweet figure.
“still wanna do this?” he asks, lifting a brow. when you nod, he continues to speak, voice gravelly, “take it out then.”
your fingers fumble with the drawstring a bit, struggling to undo the military knot caleb’s tied there, but you manage eventually. peeling back the waistband of his sweatpants to free his cock.
you should’ve known it would be just as pretty as the rest of him— it’s the biggest one (the only one) you’ve seen in person. he’s thicker than he is long, flushed dusky pink with veins that make your cunt clench with the desperate need to feel them dragging along your inner walls. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, watching you reach for it, nearly sobbing when your hand wraps around him.
“fuck—!” his hips jerk and stutter in shock, hand shoving yours away with a quickness. you frown and bite your lip, retracting your grip as if you’ve been burned.
“oh no,” you rush out, moving back to sit on top of your hands like a scolded kindergartener. “did i do something bad? did i hurt you, cal?”
caleb’s chest heaves, breath punching out of his lungs rapidly, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to slow the speed of his heart down. he’s dreamt about you touching him like this for ages, and the image of your dainty hand nervously wrapping around his cock will be seared into his brain for the rest of his life. you crawl back towards him slowly, seriously worried. “caleb?”
“i’m fine, pip,” he sucks in another breath, then opens his eyes to look at you. “didn’t mean to scare you. you didn’t do anything bad, you just surprised me. go ahead, touch me again.”
“if you’re sure,” you mumble, then hesitantly circle your fingers around caleb’s shaft again. he’s ready for it this time, hot against your palm when you give him an experimental squeeze, making caleb hiss through clenched teeth. “how’s that?”
“a bit tighter,” he instructs, palm closing over yours to adjust your grip. you squeeze him tight, and the hitch of his breath makes you squirm, stickiness gathering between your thighs at the sound. “don’t just squeeze, guys like it when you stroke. base to tip— no, don’t yank it like a fucking joystick, pip. god.”
his protest makes you burst out in giggles before caleb is shushing you with a severe look, his purple eyes narrowed. sucking your plump lower lip in between your teeth to keep from smiling, you nod at him with an exaggeratedly focused look.
“wet your palm,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at your wrinkled nose. “getting a handjob from a dry hand hurts, it’s like sandpaper.”
“are you saying i have dry hands, caleb? i moisturize daily, unlike you,” you whine out, but you listen to him anyway— you’re a good student, after all, and you don’t want to do anything that’ll make caleb want to stop. you lick your palm a few times, eyes on caleb the entire time.
the next time you touch him is with a spit-slicked grip, dragging your hand up and down his cock in an unexperienced, sloppy rub that should feel uncomfortable, but caleb eats it up— hips jerking involuntarily, pearls of watery precum already beginning to leak from the slit of his cock. your gaze is transfixed on it, a little greedy too, watching it stain your knuckles with each stroke.
it’s that same greediness that makes you lean down and brush your lips against the head of his cock, cherry tongue lolling out to tentatively taste the salt-bitter precum beading there. caleb’s hips immediately kick upward in a desperate twitch, but he forces them still, knuckles ashen where they reach down to grip the sheets.
“easy,” he rasps, voice fraying at the edges. his thumb strokes your cheek briefly. “just the tip first, okay? don’t go trying to swallow me down or anything.”
you do what he’s taught you so far; flatten your tongue, swirl it around the head— like that, fuck— press it hard against the thick, sensitive vein running along caleb’s underside, then repeat. every time, you’re rewarded with caleb brushing your hair back, murmuring soft praises, or your personal favorite— his deep, almost nasal groan, the hard planes of his abdomen flexing underneath the heady heat of your tongue.
it’s intoxicating, watching him fall apart like this— exactly what you wanted when you walked into his room. you want to pass his class with honors, please him even more, so you drop your mouth open a little more and suck him in deeper.
too deep.
the thick ridge of his head nudges against your uvula, tears springing to your eyes almost immediately. little startled chokes cough from your throat as you pull off caleb’s cock, bands of saliva stringing from his tip to your mouth in a way that should be gross, but you don’t care one bit, too busy trying to catch your breath.
“shh, shh— breathe,” caleb soothes, eyes darkening with something perilously close to reverence and pride. “through your nose, slowly. you can’t force it, that’s why you keep choking. when you’re ready, try again.”
you let caleb thumb away your tears like he’s done countless times before and when you’re ready, when you’ve had enough air to breathe, you let him guide you back onto his damp cock. eager, swollen lips bringing him in against your cheeks in a hot, branding suction that twists his insides up.
he’s supposed to be teaching you, showing you the ropes so you can please your stupid boyfriend, but you barely even need it— god, you’re so good at this without even trying. how can he focus on teaching when he’s got all of his focus pointed towards trying not to shoot his load down the back of your throat like some inconsiderate asshole?
he can barely look down at you because every time he does, your teary eyes glance up at him through thick lashes with an expression that begs for praise. he knows if you didn’t have a mouth stuffed full of his cock, you’d be asked am i doing it right, ge?
his thighs tremble, eyes lidded as you finally find a steady pace— mouth bobbing up and down, spit bubbling at the base of his cock where you’re starting to make a mess on him.
and when your hands dip down into his sweatpants, cupping his balls in your soft hand, caleb’s vision whites out, his climax rushing to the front at a rapid pace. before he can cum, though, he takes two fingers and pushes at your forehead, hauling you off his cock with a wet slurp. his chest heaves, dripping beads of sweat that glow azure in the haze of the neon lighting in his room.
he looks wrecked, and you fight your triumphant smile, schooling it into something unsure and pliant, batting your eyelashes. “did i… did i do it wrong?”
“fuck, no,” his chuckle is hoarse and ruined, calloused thumbs swiping spit from your chin as he gazes up at you meaningfully with those hooded eyes. “just don’t wanna cum down your throat.”
“o-oh.”
the implication makes arousal bubble low in your belly, thighs squeezing together in need. caleb tracks the movement, nostrils flaring as he grins knowingly. “yeah, you don’t want that either, do you, pipsqueak?”
for a while, the two of you just stare at each other in disbelief. you don’t know how to tell caleb that you’d take him in any form he’s offering himself in, pining after him long enough that it’s painful. nothing you ever did got his attention, not in the way you truly wanted. he’s protective and possessive in all the right ways, but he’d never make the first move.
he’ll never come out and admit that he wants to spread you out on his bed and fuck you dumb, mark you as his so nobody else can have you. it took you coming to him to even get this far, so you might as well take matters into your own hands once more.
“teach me the rest, ge?”
the rest.
caleb releases a pained groan at your words and you think he’s going to refuse you, but then he’s flipping your positions, pushing you down onto the mattress with ease. he makes quick work of his sweatpants, shoving them down the rest of the way. then, he wrestles your panties off your hips and tosses them somewhere across the room.
“look at you,” he whispers, pushing your shirt up— his cock leaking a bead of precum at the sight of your pretty tits. he reaches forward, toying with your puffy nipples, grinning at the sound of your soft whimper.
“c-caleb.”
“you drive me fuckin’ crazy, you get that?” the confession comes out sounding suspiciously like a whine. he gazes down at you like you’re water and he’s a man lost deep in the desert, dying of thirst. “you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. look at these cute tits, just begging for me to touch them. and—”
his big hands sink into the fleshy part of your upper thighs, opening them to get his first exclusive look at your pussy. his thumb parts your folds, spreading one side apart to watch the way your entrance twitches. caleb dips one finger into your cunt and could fucking cry at how warm and tight you feel. “fuck, you’re so wet. is this all ’cause of me?”
“d-don’t look at it so shamelessly, you pervert,” you scold him, squirming back and forth in his hold as you try to snap your thighs shut. “stop teasing me or i’ll hit you. this is embarrassing!”
“why not?” he tilts his head, giving you that boyish grin that makes your heart stop. “after i’m done with you, it’ll be mine anyway. my pretty pussy. my girl.”
you huff and drive your fist into his shoulder before folding your arms over your breasts, lower lip stuck out in an unhappy pout. caleb winces, though mirth still shines amongst the nebulas in his eyes. he leans down to kiss your pout away, chuckling in amusement. “okay, okay, don’t hurt me. i’ll give you what you want.”
and then, he’s wrapping a hand around the base of himself, kissing your clit with the leaking tip of his cock before rubbing it up and down your slit. he coats himself in your wetness before he finally notches against your entrance and slowly pushes.
the pressure makes air stutter out of your chest, blunt and unyielding. he immediately notices your struggle and drops forward on his elbows, caging you safely in his embrace. he kisses the corners of your eyelids, licking away stray tears.
“i hate hurting you like this,” he whispers in your ear, hips drawing back and crawling forward again. you gasp, eyes falling shut, and he shushes you once more. slides a hand down to play with your clit to distract you, which only makes you clench up around him. his jaw is clenched tight enough to shatter the bone, hand fisted in the sheets next to your head. “shh— relax and let me in. it’ll feel good in a second.”
“i-i don’t know if i can,” you say, trying to force your body to accept him, but when he sinks in those first few inches, you whimper and dig your nails into his biceps. “y-you’re so big, ge.”
“f-fuck, don’t—” caleb grunts and his fingers grip the soft sides of your belly, holding your body to his like a lifeline. “don’t call me that right now. i might cum. i’m gonna put the rest in, okay? be a good girl for me and take it. i-i can’t wait any longer.”
he draws out and presses forward all the way in, burying himself to the hilt inside your sweet pussy. his gaze drops to where you’re split obscenely around him, cunt fluttering in protest at the stretch and a ragged groan tears from his throat. it takes every ounce of willpower the military beat into him not to cream himself right then and there.
“c-caleb!”
you whine as caleb retreats slightly, only to surge back in, fucking a little deeper this time. the weight of his cock stretching you out borders on cruel, but you would die before you ask him to stop, your walls squeezing him in a vice grip. it takes a few trials and errors (“keep your hips down, pipsqueak” and “i don't know, maybe a little to the l— fuck, right there oh my god”) but eventually, caleb builds up a good rhythm, the cool metal of his dog tags pooling in the valley of your breasts as he fucks you with deep, steady strokes; bottoming out each time with a guttural groan.
“fuck— stop clenching so much i’m gonna lose my mind,” his breath scalds your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as he fucks a little faster. “so fucking good. that’s it, baby. you’re doing so good. taking every inch of me like this.”
he’s right, it is so fucking good— no, it’s better. your nails scrape against caleb’s back. shivering at the hot pleasure singeing your nerve endings each time he fucks into you. it doesn’t take long for pressure to gather in your lower belly, a band waiting to snap.
you can’t help but wriggle a hand between the two of your bodies and circle a trembling middle finger around your swollen clit. “nngh, you feel so fucking good, cal.”
“a-are you- god, that’s so hot,” he grunts, glancing down at the way you’re toying with your clit and it turns him on so much he’s speeding up, cock pistoning in and out of you, his thrusts deepening until he’s nearly kissing your cervix, he’s in so deep, your thighs slamming against his hips as you try to close your legs when the head of his cock brushes right up against your sweet spot, creating starbursts behind your eyelids.
“oh god, cal— i-i can’t!”
caleb’s grin is feral, grinding deep to press into that swollen spot inside you relentlessly. “knew i’d find it,” then his fingers joining yours and it’s so much better than your own, two digits rubbing quick circles into your sensitive clit. you’re a babbling mess at this point, the pleasure too much to keep up with. “can you cum for me? can you let me feel it? please? i’ll never ask you for another thing if you give me one right here, right now.”
what are you supposed to do, deny him? you couldn’t even if you tried, not with the heat in your belly full to bursting, needing an escape.
“’m gonna c-cum for you, ge, just for you,” you sob.
caleb has seen many versions of you over the years— grumpy and pillow-marked in the morning with syrup stains on your shirt at the breakfast table, covered in sand and sun-kissed at the beach, screaming at him to do something about the jellyfish sting on your leg, in sleek black dresses at the military balls you attended as his plus one that made all his comrades stop and stare. but you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now. his dog tags between your breasts, your creamy pussy fluttering around his cock, and your pretty face twisted in pleasure as you’re about to cum for him.
he hopes that when he dies, he’ll go out with this image in his brain.
those big doe eyes of yours roll back into your head, hands frantically pushing at his abdomen as if he’s trying to escape the overwhelming friction of his cock. you cum hard, thighs trembling, vision winking out. wet droplets of tears stream down your cheeks as white heat washes over your body, the pleasure bleeding through your limbs like wildfire.
seeing you like this, what is caleb supposed to do? not follow you? he’s been holding his own orgasm back since you barged into his room in one of his shirts, begging to be taught how to suck a cock. there’s no way he can last through seeing— through feeling— you cum around him. his rhythm fractures almost immediately and he knows he’s on thin ice, fraying at the edges.
“gonna cum,” he grits out, voice mangled. “fuck, i’m gonna cum. where do you want it?”
you don’t waste a second, babbling out the answer desperately, “i-inside, ge, cum inside me. give it to me please i want it so bad i’ll do anything!”
that’s all it takes.
one more sloppy thrust and he cums right after you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you still. he breathes choppy, ruined moans into your neck as he pumps his release deep inside your cunt before he collapses against you, damp chest heaving against yours, giving a few more weak thrusts of his hips as his climax ebbs.
you don’t know how long the two of you lay there, struggling to catch your breaths. you’re satisfied and pliant as putty underneath caleb, unable to move from his heavy embrace. he’s a wall of solid muscle, one that is pressing you into the mattress. “caleb, you’re heavy.”
“gimme a minute here, pipsqueak,” caleb chuckles breathlessly against your sweaty skin, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. “i just had the best sex of my life and can’t catch my breath.”
you begin to smile in pride, but then your eyes narrow as his words register through the fucked out haze clouding your brain. “wait, you were having sex before this?” you ask, jealousy bubbling up in your chest. “was it that one sergeant? the one who kept giving you lovey dovey eyes at the DAA gala?”
“mmm, nope,” he answers almost immediately, kissing your lips quickly to placate you, making your heart swell big and bright for the boy on top of you. “chill. saved myself all this time for you.”
your heart begins racing stupidly fast at that. “sap,” you tease, before an idea pops in your head and you reach for your phone tossed haphazardly on caleb’s bedside table.
caleb’s grip on you tightens as he notices you reach for it, a dark cloud shuttering his loving expression. “what are you doing?” he demands, the venom in his tone startling you a bit. “texting him already? that eager to try out what i just taught you?”
you frown in confusion until you remember the excuse you used upon coming into caleb’s room. wow, the boy you’re in love with is an idiot. giggling, you lean up and press a sweet kiss to his cheek before opening the camera on your phone and snapping a quick selfie of the two of you.
“no, you big dummy, i’m taking a pic of us losing our virginities together so i can add it to our photo album,” you explain simply, grinning. “and there was never any boyfriend, i made him up.”
