fatima

the room goes silent.

gojo sato freezes against the whiteboard, marker still in hand. sukuna has leaned away from suguru, eyes wide, as if suguru has just admitted to not showering this morning. the two boys stare at suguru. then at each other, then back to suguru again.

“ouuuu shii,” they drawl simultaneously.

“please don’t start this nonsense…”

“suguru, this is huge!” sato lets his marker fall to the floor, and runs to crouch in front of geto, elbows on suguru’s knees. “think about it, man. you and the girl of your dreams. partnered up to play husband n’ wife and take care of a plastic baby.”

suguru bites his cheek, neck hot. “it’s just a project.”

“no, it’s an opportunity,” sukuna corrects. “this is the girl who calls you bestie even when you look at her like you wanna eat her alive.” he snaps his fingers. “this is your chance, idiot. to show her you’re husband material. you have an excuse to call her wifey, for fuck’s sake.”

suguru’s phone is tight in his palm. his thumb is still tracing the line of your smile in the image he was staring at before he clicked his phone off.

“she thinks i’m her friend,” suguru murmurs, voice half-gone as he slips his phone into his pocket. “she’s comfortable with me. i’m not gonna ruin that by acting like a feral dog.”

“you’re already feral, idiot. y’think i didn’t see you staring at her IG photos like a creep?”

geto blinks. “how did you—“

“not important!” sato interrupts, slapping suguru’s thigh. he rests his chin on suguru’s knee, blue eyes glimmering in the light. “what’s important is, you have an opportunity. she’s already comfortable with you—you just have to take it further. call her sweetheart. baby. wife. see if she doesn’t stop you. take the leap, suguru.”

“take the leap,” sukuna grins.

take the leap. but the leap is a jump with no safety net. geto suguru knows what’s at stake. he knows if he ever let himself get too greedy—too carried away—he risks losing the friday mornings spent at the library with your head against his shoulder while you pretend to read from a book. he risks your voice calling his name across campus, and the way you hug his arm when you haven’t seen him in days, and the way you tug the piercing on his lip with a playful smile when you want his attention. geto suguru knows better than to risk it. he knows not to take the leap.

but he nods, lips tight as he reaches for his car keys on the table. “i’ll take the leap.”

“let’s go, daddy geto!” sato roars, dapping sukuna up. the boys watch with stupid grins as geto shoves things in his pockets. geto glances at the time: 5PM. “i’m going to her place now, we agreed to meet up.”

sukuna clutches his heart, then waves. “go get your wifey, asshole.”

suguru doesn’t look back. it’s time to fucking leap.

# SHOW TIME !

“suguruu, stop acting responsible and come cuddle me.”

ah, you’re such a fucking bother.

it’s sometime after six and geto suguru is in your bedroom with his shirt tossed somewhere on the floor and his silver chain cold against his chest. he’s putting together the plastic baby crib in preparation for the project’s official start on monday, and trying very fucking hard to ignore the fact that you’re all sprawled out on your bed behind him: hair fanned out, pillow to your chest, and whining his name because who are you if not a tease?

“you’re such a bad husband,” you mumble wistfully. “leaving your wife all alone on her bed like this…”

god.

geto’s throat bobs. there’s blood in his throat but his eyes skim the instructions with hazy focus. lord knows he wants nothing more than to press you into the covers and kiss you till you’re laughing his name and you can’t fucking breathe, but he knows the minute he pads over there you’ll laugh in his face.

his mouth dries.

“someone has to build the crib, angel,” he murmurs. it comes out lower than he intended, but whatever—it came out regardless. pet name number one, okay. “unless you want our fake baby sleeping on the rug?”

“i want my fake husband,” you hug your pillow tighter, and geto can hear the pout in your voice. your eyes are still on the ceiling, and geto doesn’t miss the fact that you don’t comment on the pet name. perhaps you didn’t hear it. perhaps you just don’t care. “and the baby is plastic,” you grumble. “it doesn’t care if it sleeps on a mattress or a floor.”

he hums. “bet it doesn’t complain as much either.”

“hey!” you gasp, chucking your pillow at him with a laugh. geto’s lip twitches in a smile. he rubs the back of his head, sweeping away the black strands falling in his face. he turns to glance at you, and then he wishes he didn’t, because you’re staring back at him with the brightest eyes he’s ever seen.

he bites his cheek. and then he pads over to you.

you watch, starry eyed, as geto lets the instruction manual glide to the floor. he presses a knee into the mattress, leg swinging over your thighs, bed dipping underneath his weight. his hair tickles your jaw and his chain dangles in front of you and geto suguru smells like dogwood and something too warm to have a name.

you blink up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs. “you look cute like this.”

he shouldn’t say that, he knows he shouldn’t, but you’re already curling your hand around his necklace and letting your thighs squeeze underneath him. and geto’s eyes rake down your body—just once, just a little, because he knows better than to leap that fucking far. so he bites his lip.

“i always look cute..” you mumble, lashes fluttering and voice fading underneath him.

“mm, but you look extra cute today,” he mutters, “like a real life mommy.”

you tug his necklace, grin cheeky. “geto suguru. are you trying to seduce me?”

“no,” he murmurs, and his voice is too low and the words come too fast. “i’m being a good husband. taking care of my wife’s needs before she even asks.”

he’s still propped up over you, bare pecs heaving & chain glinting too close to your face. the heat of his body pricks at your skin. you tug him closer by the chain: “and what needs do i have?”

“attention,” he murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek. “you've been whining since I got here. wanted me to stop working. wanted me to come cuddle you.”

“i was only joking..” you mumble, slightly shy. and geto wishes you wouldn’t say that. wishes he didn’t know that already.

but he’s a patient man. and how can he be upset when you look so pretty underneath him?

“i know,” he murmurs, voice warm, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “i’m sorry. am i making you uncomfortable?”

he says he’s sorry but his thumb still grazes your cheek, because he can’t not. you lean into him reflexively, and then you blink.

“what—? no, no. it’s just—“ your brows furrow, and you frown in that way that makes geto want to kiss it off. “it’s just… you’re so good at this, geto!”

his thumb pauses over your cheek. “what?”

“this husband thing!” you grin up at him, cheeks flushed. “you made me feel all hot and funny inside. your future wife is gonna be so lucky.”

geto blinks. you keep going.

“you were so hot,” you cup his cheek with a palm, and geto’s jaw is slack. “and you’re so responsible setting up the baby stuff. whoever you date and marry is gonna be so lucky. in a way this is perfect practice, isn’t it?”

his jaw tightens. “yeah, practice.”

he doesn’t say you’re the only girl he’s ever wanted, the only girl he’ll ever want, that last summer when you fell asleep on his couch with his hoodie on your shoulders he thought about you with his last name; or that every time you swat his chest and laugh away his efforts his heart cracks a little in his chest. he doesn’t tell you he’s only a man and his heart can’t take much more much longer.

but he squeezes your hip. bites your neck so you giggle and swat him away. rolls off you and pretends his chain isn’t still warm from your grip.

geto suguru pads away to kneel by the crib’s side. “is my wife gonna keep whining, or is she gonna help me fix this?”

SATO’S REMARK : TOUGH LUCK. BUT KEEP AT IT, BROTHER!

HUSBAND TACTICS #2: GET DOMESTIC !

taught by: toji zenin

“wanna woo her? take her on a family-esque activity. that’ll show her you’re husband material.”

ΣΧ

sigma chi’s frathouse kitchen is two bottles of bourbon & cranberry jam left open on the countertop. in the kitchen suguru geto is there, a hyper-realistic plastic baby on his hip as toji scribbles grocery items in handwriting geto will have to pretend to understand.

“here’s everything,” toji grumbles, clicking his pen and passing the note to suguru. geto’s face scrunches immediately, piercings glimmering as he squints his eyes in a desperate attempt to read the list. “how the hell is your handwriting worse than sukuna’s?”

“you’ll figure it out. it’s for meg,” toji answers, bored, drumming his pen against the sticky counter. “and some of the organic stuff my girl likes. i’ll be back late today, so i need you to drop it off at my place.”

suguru shifts the doll over his chest, taking one last look at the sorry note before stuffing it in his pocket. “are you taking meg with you today?”

“no, he’s home with the babysitter,” toji grunts, slipping his hands into his skinny jean pockets to hide the fake ice on his wrist. “new job’s paying good, so i’m taking the missus out on a date.”

“aww,” suguru softens, smile tugging at his lips. he’s pleased to see toji doing better, to say the least. he’s engaged to a pretty, rich lady now; working hard as a ghost writer for drake, all while being a good young father to meg. he pats the doll’s head absentmindedly. “that’s cute. what are you planning?”

“luxury shopping date,” toji mumbles.

“really?” suguru tilts his head. “where are you going?”

“shoppers drug mart.”

geto doesn’t comment.

“you should take that girl with you,” toji says, hands still in his pockets. “take her n’ your plastic doll grocery shopping. it’s good domestic practice. get her some expensive strawberries and see if she doesn’t fall head over heels.”

suguru bites his lip, phone already heavy in his pocket.

can’t hurt to try, right ?

# SHOW TIME !

suguru wishes you wouldn’t do this to him.

wishes you wouldn’t look all cute standing by the store’s glass doors, lashes fluttering as you blink around trying to find him. he should raise his hand, text you he’s just two aisles over and you should move before the lady behind gets mad at you for blocking the entrance. instead he watches with a fond smile as you frown and fumble to grab your phone from your purse.

he sighs, walking over to stand behind you with the fake baby in his arms. your eyes are still on your phone as your thumbs tap frantically, typing a message to send to his contact: ‘SUGURU. where are u???’

his lip twitches. he’s leaning so close over your shoulder that he can smell your shampoo, and your hair is tickling his nose, but you still don’t notice. so cute. geto thinks you’re so cute.

he hums into your neck. “who are we texting?”

“suguru!” you gasp, whipping around at the sound of his voice. he’s looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes, teasing smile, dark sweater sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. you frown at him. “you scared me! don’t you know you shouldn’t sneak up on vulnerable young women?!”

suguru blinks. “what?”

“you heard me,” you grumble, fake pout on your lips as you lean down to the plastic doll in his arms. “hi, lafayette. daddy’s being mean to mommy again.”

“i still can’t believe you named our baby after a revolutionary leader.” geto mutters.

“he’s my fave in hamilton,” you hum, slipping lafayette into your arms. “shall we get shopping?”

——

in geto’s shopping cart, there’s five shades of lipgloss, a bag of plantain chips, and four other items that are not on the shopping list.

geto suguru needs to start saying no. but it’s hard to deny you when you look up at him with those pretty eyes, batting your lashes all sweet in that way that makes his chest hurt. so he pushes the cart, resigned, watching the sway of your hips as you balance lafayette on your side and coo silly things to him like he’s a real human child. he shakes his head, bites his lip. geto suguru is utterly fucked.

“suguru! look at this!”

he shouldn’t look. because it’s just going to be another item you’ll seduce him into buying, but he looks anyways. you’re pointing at a box of dinosaur cereal—a clear off-brand version of froot loops. “lafayette would love this. can we get it for him?”

he pads around the cart to get a better look. “lafayette can’t eat cereal.”

“i meant megumi,” you coo, running a hand down his pecs. “he likes dinosaurs. he’ll love this.”

“no, he likes gummy worms,” but geto suguru is already distracted by your hand stroking his chest. his lip twitches, “you want this for yourself, don’t you?”

“caught me,” you flash him your sweetest smile, squeezing his pec before setting mamdani in the cart. geto watches as you lean up to the top shelf, skirt riding up your thighs as you reach for the box of cereal. his eyes drop. but then his neck heats and he quickly looks away.

“suguruu,” you frown, still reaching. “help me.”

suguru lets out a rough breath. he shouldn’t help, but he always will—what else can he do when you call his name like that?

he steps behind you, chest pressing against your back, arm reaching up and caging you in the process. your breathing hitches. suguru doesn’t miss it.

“suguru,”

“hm?”

“what are you doing?”

your voice comes out breathy, and suguru has to pretend he doesn’t like the way you sound or how you’re staring up at him with big eyes. he hums coolly. “i’m helping my wife.”

“oh,” your lashes flutter as he reaches to tug down your skirt. his knuckles brush your thigh & you glance down at his arm snaking around your hips before mustering up a smile.

you tease, “such a good husband, protecting my modesty.”

“mm,” he murmurs, “the best.”

your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. geto watches your lashes flutter—shy? nervous?—as your hand curls around his bicep to steady yourself. your palm squeezes his arm. he lets his hand dip to squeeze your inner thigh, and prays you don’t hear his breathing hitch.

“do good husbands usually grope their wives..?” you murmur, and geto thinks you’re teasing, but your lashes are low and your voice is so small and god he wants to kiss you so badly.

“don’t think so,” he mutters. “am i bad?”

“so bad,” you breathe. and your breath is hot & he’s leaning so close he can feel it on his lips. you squeeze his arm, eyes boring into his, and you really need to fucking stop before he leans down and kisses you. “but i don’t mind.”

god. you’re gonna fucking kill him. geto parts his lips to speak but you get your words out first.

“so,” you beam up at him, “the cereal?”

oh. the cereal.

fuck you and the cereal.

he doesn’t mean that, though. his jaw tightens as he lifts the box and drops it into the cart. his hands shove in his pockets, and geto suguru can only blink away the irritation burning in his eyes.

“thanks, sugu,” you lift lafayette into your arms. he’s gripping the cart handle right now, trying to ignore the fact that you’re smiling up at him and cursing himself because even now he thinks you are so beautiful.

“well then,” you chirp, grin sweet, “back to shopping!”

TOJI’S REMARK : SHE DON’T WANT YOUR ASS 🤦🏿‍♂️

HUSBAND TACTICS #3: GET SMOOTHER.

taught by: toru gojo

“your problem is that everything you do maintains plausible deniability. i think it’s time you claimed her in a way she can’t deny.”

ΣΧ

the good news is, even though geto ended up spending $200 on items not on toji’s list, the plantain chips you roped him into getting were really good. the bad news is, sato gojo is lying here on his lap, forcing geto to feed him said chips while gaming on sukuna’s nintendo switch.

“sugu, i want one,” -> geto feeds sato a chip. chew, swallow. “i can’t believe you embarrassed yourself like that.”

suguru’s eye twitches. “no more chips for you.”

they’re on the bed in toru’s room, and toru gojo sighs before slipping his headphones off at his desk. “sorry, but you guys are getting crumbs on my bed.”

sato laughs. “as if sukuna doesn’t jerk off in here every other day.”

“that was before he finished therapy,” toru mumbles in response, cheeks flushed in dismay. god bless geto for enrolling sukuna in therapy for his exhibitionist kink, despite sukuna’s wishes. toru takes his glasses off, runs a hand through his hair. “suguru, what’s this about you and y/n?”

“every time suguru tries something with her, she laughs him off,” sato snitches. he flashes geto a clumsy grin, smile totally innocent. “sugu, i want one.”

geto shoves him off his lap.

“maybe you’re not obvious enough,” toru plays with the stem of his glasses. “you guys are super close. even if you’re touching her, she might not take it seriously because she’s used to touchy friendships.”

“yeah!” sato agrees, fist pumped up, face flat on the floor. “my thoughts exactly, twin brother.”

“shut up.” geto and toru say simultaneously.

“anyway,” toru continues. “maybe get bolder. do something she can’t pass off as ‘just friends’.”

geto stares at the chips in his lap. “just friends, huh?”

#SHOW TIME!

geto leans by the kitchen door. “hi, mommy. what’re you doing?”

suguru’s over at your house for dinner. he’s just put lafayette to sleep in his crib, and he has his hands in his pockets as he pads over to you, sweatpants low on his hips. his arms cage you by the stove. “you smell good,” he mutters.

you ignore him. “i’m making dinner!” you beam, turning to face him.

geto can’t even tell what you’re showing him. in your hands is a charred mess, and geto can only pray the squiggly thing on the plate is spaghetti and not something else. his brows furrow in amused confusion as you beam up at him, lashes fluttering.

he cocks his head. “is this a burnt offering?”

“rude,” you swat his chest, and geto only smiles, eyes tracking the way your hair falls over your shoulders. you mutter curses as you shift the plate away, staring at the pot in dismay. “i wanted to cook for you.” you grumble.

his lip twitches. “like a real life wife?”

“yeah,” you turn to him, lips in a pout as you play with the chain on his chest. “but it didn’t work out. can you believe it?”

“i believe it,” he hums, but in reality he’s trying not to laugh, or rather, avoiding thinking about how glossy your lips look when you pout. his palms find your waist, “need your hubby to help?”

you smile up at him, “if he’d be so kind.”

geto lifts you by the hips before you can think better of it. you yelp as he sets you down on the counter, gripping him in a panicked hug. “suguru! you can’t just do that!”

he smiles, big. “do what?”

“lift me! and without warning!” you’re still hugging his neck tight, heart racing against his collarbone. he laughs, face in your hair to muffle the sound. his hands are splayed on your back, anchoring you against him.

“stop laughing at me,” you frown, and geto pulls back. he still has that lazy smile on his lips. “i’m not laughing,”

“yes you are,” you cup his face, smushing his cheeks in your palms. “look at your smile. it’s mocking.”

“adoring,” he mutters, gaze reverent.

“lying,” you pout, frown deep.

geto doesn’t argue. he only watches, eyes half-lidded, as you lift a palm from his cheek to card through his hair, stroking softly. you’re still pouting, still pretty. his thumb presses into your spine.

“i’ve never lied to you in my life,” he murmurs.

“yeah?” you’re still raking his hair, eyes never meeting his own. “then were you laughing at me just now?”

“no, mommy.”

“see?” you cock your head. “liar.”

he lets out a long, shuddering breath, hands sliding from your back to your waist, then down to squeeze your hips. you’re still stroking his hair, unbothered. no idea that you’ve got him crumbling beneath you.

“you feel so soft,” he murmurs before he can think better of it.

you tilt your head. “my hips?”

“and your waist, and your thighs,” he drawls, and he’s not even thinking straight anymore. “everywhere.”

you stare at him, brows knit, hand pausing in his hair. “suguru,”

“yeah, baby?”

“you’re being bad again.”

he lets out a strangled breath. he’s staring at your lips, he has been for a while now, and his gaze is bleary & eyes half-lidded. “sorry mommy,” he mumbles, “are you uncomfortable?”

“no?”

“then i’m gonna kiss you now.”

“sugu—“

and he does. he pauses just slightly—just enough to let you pull away if you don’t want this, if you don’t want him—but you don’t so geto presses his lips to your own. his first thought is gloss. your lips are so glossy; strawberry sweet & sugary fake. he lets his tongue slip out to lick your mouth, before cocking his head to kiss you deeper. you squeak, moaning into his mouth, kissing him back as he presses you into him. your thighs squeeze around his waist and geto slips a groan past your lips.

“so good,” he chases your lips when you pull away to breathe, “taste so good, pretty,”

you let him press sloppy kisses to your jaw, hands still in his hair.

but geto doesn’t notice how you freeze underneath him.

TORU’S REMARK: MY ADVICE WORKED?! THIS IS WHY I’M THE BETTER TWIN!! :)

HUSBAND TACTICS #4: GO GET YOUR WIFE !

taught by: ryomen sukuna

“good progress, bud. now all you gotta do? maintain the pace. keep showing her you’re the man now.”

ΣΧ

in sigma chi’s living room, ryomen sukuna is strapped to an armchair as sato hooks him up to a birth simulator.

idiots, the both of them. it started with sukuna saying that taking care of their plastic baby isn’t much work after all, and so motherhood can’t be that bad, and giving birth must not be that bad either. sato, ever the feminist, decided to challenge him on that. now it’s a weekday evening and sato is pressing electric pads to sukuna’s belly with his tongue in his cheek. sukuna the second (their plastic baby—sukuna won the argument it seems) is crying somewhere in the distance.

“nice work, daddy geto,” sukuna hums, shifting so sato can press another pad to his belly. “you’ve gotten the girl.”

geto has. so why doesn’t he feel like it?

you kissed him back. kissed him again. in fact, he’d say he had your lips for dinner. but the texts he sent you this morning are still unread: did you sleep well? can we talk?

geto shakes his head, relaxing into the sofa with his legs spread out as he watches sato fumble with the machine. “now all you gotta do is keep up the good work,” sukuna mumbles. “easy-peasy.”

“i feel like something’s wrong,” geto plays with his necklace. “but i’m not sure what it is, exactly.”

“nothing’s wrong, dumbass,” sukuna squints, watching sato frown at the remote. “you’re just not used to being forward. months of holding back will do that to ya. what you need to do now? ramp it up. tell her you wanna put a baby in her or something. girls love that shit.”

“oh, i agree with that. it’s like saying she’s wifey type.”

“you get me, sato.”

sato grins. then he presses a button on the remote and sukuna screams.

“jesus christ of nazareth!” sukuna roars, jerking in the chair. “fuck—! turn this shit off! sato!”

sato watches him jerk with his hands on his hips, lips bent in a clumsy smile. “what? i can’t hear you over your screaming!”

suguru eyes his frat brothers, both sukuna’s—and sukuna the second’s—cries roaring in his ears. he’s still not sure why this is even happening, but he’s long concluded both his frat brothers were born with a brain. he sighs, burying his face in his hands.

he really needs to fucking see you.

#SHOW TIME !

geto wasn’t sure you’d want to see him.

but you’d already planned to meet up today; long before he kissed you on the countertop, long before he sent you six messages & deleted them all when he received no response. it would be wiser to stay home but he shows up anyway, because he’s a coward who’s trying not to be, and he hasn’t eaten anything in days because everything in the sigma chi kitchen suddenly tastes like your lips.

you greeted him with a smile on your face.

lafayette on your hip, pretty smile as you beckoned him in. said you were just about making lunch. asked him to go handle it in the kitchen because obviously you don’t want to see his face.

geto shakes his head, stares at the water running off his hands in the sink. he has to think positive.

“lafayette, baby, please don’t cry,” your voice comes from the living room. “mommy’s trying so hard—oh my god. i swear i’m gonna take out your batteries!”

geto laughs through his nose before he can think better of it.

he wipes his hands, pads over to the doorframe to watch you fuss over lafayette in the living room. you’re bouncing the plastic robot in your hands, trying to get it to stop its automated wailing. “shhh. want me to sing you a song, baby? you like songs from hamilton, right? okay, okay. why do you cry like you’re running out of time—”

lafayette screams. geto falls in love.

well he was already in love, but somehow his heart has gone sticky in his chest. it’s silly, isn’t it? but geto’s thought about it a lot. your laugh in the kitchen on sunday mornings, your contact saved with his last name, you waking him up at 3am for some ridiculous craving; and he’d get up to retrieve it, of course. because geto suguru would go to the ends of the earth for you if you’d allow it.

is it weird to think of domestic life with someone you aren’t even dating?

probably. but then he thinks about your thighs squeezing his waist on the kitchen counter, your pretty moans in his mouth, your hands in his hair—and god. god god god. geto suguru has never wanted something so badly.

so he doesn’t think too much before padding over to join you in the living room, arms wrapping around your hips. “hey.”

you tense, just a little, just enough that geto doesn’t notice, then relax into him just slightly. “hi. are you being bad again?”

he can hear the smile in your voice, but your usual playfulness isn’t as strong. “maybe. you look cute, bouncing our baby like that.”

you force a smile, eyes dropping to lafayette wailing in your arms. “well—“

“you’d make such a pretty mommy,” geto breathes, and even he’s not sure what he’s saying. all he knows is you’re warm and pretty and in his arms and it’s all he’s ever wanted, all he’ll ever want.

you don’t respond, and geto’s in his feelings now, so his mouth keeps moving: “i think about it a lot,” he murmurs. “mornings with you. you burning the eggs because you’ve never been a good cook.” his palm shifts to your belly. “and i’ll eat them anyways.”

“suguru,”

“and you’d get mad at me for eating them,” he breathes, collapsing into your neck. “tell me you don’t need my sympathy and frown up at me while bouncing our baby on your hip. and then you’d kiss me because you secretly find it sweet of me.” he breathes. “i think about it a lot.”

“you’d make such a pretty wife, such a pretty mommy,” geto breathes. and your neck is so warm, and his lips are ghosting over it, and as his palm glides over your belly his dizzy mind flashes back to sukuna’s words: girls love feeling like they’re wifey!

so he kisses your neck. “can’t wait to see you round with my baby.”

if you were tense before, you’re frozen now.

“suguru.”

“hm?”

“i’m uncomfortable.”

geto freezes.

you step out of his hold, lafayette to your chest, pretty eyes looking up at his. but you’re not looking at him with your usual fondness. your eyes are bored—unimpressed—something geto’s hazy mind can’t seem to name. your lips are tight. “i think you should take lafayette for the weekend.”

“y/n—“

“and don’t contact me,” you snap, irritated. “don’t call, text, nothing. i just—“ you bite your lip, “you need to leave, geto.”

not suguru, geto. okay. okay.

geto leaves with lafayette in his arms. his heart is still in your living room.

SUKUNA’S REMARK : WHO TOLD YOU TO SAY THAT?!

HUSBAND TACTICS #5: DIVORCE COURT !

taught by: nanami kento

“you’ve been leading with actions instead of words. are you really surprised?”

ΣΧ

is it so bad to be forward?

geto has his head on the steering wheel & his heart in his throat. lafayette is crying in the backseat but geto doesn’t care, doesn’t care to rip out the batteries or at least sing the doll to sleep. instead he grips the steering so hard his knuckles turn white.

can’t wait to put a baby in you.

why did he say that? he wants to blame it on sukuna but he can’t. geto knows it’s all on him, of course. he let himself get too love drunk, too hope drunk, too drunk on a future that will never exist. he thought about sato and sukuna who don’t think before they talk and still manage to get the girl. but life has never let him have anything easy, and with you in his arms he managed to forget that. now the only girl he’s ever wanted thinks he sees her as just flesh, and geto is a coward so he doesn’t plan to redeem himself.

it’s best to let you go.

“do you intend to drive?”

nanami’s voice is flat beside him. it’s more of a bored comment than a question, and geto lifts his head up slow. nanami kento is beach-blond hair & pressed on clothes and a bored look that never seems to leave his face. he stares at geto. geto stares back.

“i’m going through a crisis.”

“i observed. should i get toji to drive me instead?”

“have a heart, kenny,” geto slumps against the driver’s seat. nanami’s license is on a three-day suspension for being slightly tipsy while driving, and it’s unusual for kento, but we all have our problems. geto reaches for a cigar in the glove box. nanami smacks his hand away.

“this is about y/n, correct? sato told me all about it.”

of course he did—what a snitch.

geto rests his head on the wheel, careful not to let the horn sound. “is it my turn for some advice?”

“i suppose,” nanami pushes up his glasses. “did you ever try speaking english?”

geto blinks. “english?”

“the others advised you to be forward, correct?” nanami starts. “touch her, kiss her, all of it. but did you ever speak english? tell her that you liked her? wanted her?”

geto blinks. but kento’s not done.

“i heard about what happened most recently, sukuna told me all about it,” nanami sighs. “telling a woman she’d make a pretty mom. telling her you can’t wait to see her round with your baby.” kento scoffs. “you have your domestic fantasies, geto. but do you know how terrifying that is to a woman who you haven’t even told ‘i love you’?”

ah. geto knew he’d been missing something.

he’s always been a coward. at thirteen, he pierced his own ears with a ballpoint pen and hid the bleeding from his parents for weeks. at seventeen, he got his first tattoo, and charred it off with cigarette butts until all that remained was the outline. at nineteen, he kissed a girl and blocked her the next day. at twenty-two, he fucked up his chances with the only woman he’s ever loved. geto suguru has never known how to handle wanting something. he either destroys it or runs far, far away.

“so what do i do now?” geto asks, brows knit. “she told me to stay away from her.”

“then you do exactly that,” nanami’s already unbuckling his seatbelt. “give her the space she needs. you’ve crowded her for long enough, suguru.”

he has, hasn’t he?

“i’ll ask toji to give me a lift,” nanami is standing outside the car. “you’re in no condition to drive.”

nanami slams the door shut. lafayette is still crying in the backseat.

# SHOW TIME !

geto suguru is back in your room again.

not in the way he’d like, not sprawled on your bed or with you curled into his side. he’s sitting diagonally across from you on the mini-table you have laid out, because he’d tried to sit opposite you and caught the way your lip twitched with irritation.

geto is on his best behavior.

the plastic doll is asleep in its crib as you and suguru fill out spreadsheets. logs on feeding times, that sort of thing. he stares at the gleaming columns—empty. they’ve been empty for an hour now, because geto suguru can’t stop his eyes from shifting from his laptop screen to your face.

“feeding log,” you say flatly. “did you do the 2PM ?”

“yeah,” he did—he thinks. everything is blurry.

“no you didn’t,” you bite. “i’m literally looking at the column right now. it’s empty. and it shouldn’t be.”

geto’s fingers twitch over his keyboard. the spreadsheet in front of him is empty, but the previous one—the one you’re looking at—shouldn’t be. he remembers logging it yesterday with his back bent over the kitchen island, eyes clouded over, thinking, wondering if he should send you a message.

he croaks, “i did fill it in. check the—“

“you didn’t,” you snap, and geto’s never had you snap at him before so he’s not sure what to do with that. “i’m literally looking at it right now. can you please take this seriously?”

“okay,” he swallows.

you turn back to your laptop, irritated. geto fills out the spreadsheet in front of him. he won’t give you reason to be upset with him any longer.

———

the second time geto sees you after the incident, it’s at the local library.

you’re already done with today’s work, and the walk back to the residences is long & winding. geto suguru knows his place. he has his eyes down on the pavement, wind flinging his hair in his face, three feet behind you because you’d eye him if he got any closer.

you’re shivering.

and geto noticed it three minutes ago, to be honest. noticed how your shoulders hugged together, how you shoved your hands into your pockets. he should give you his jacket. you’re cold, and he doesn’t want you getting sick, and he doesn’t want you to snap at him or shoot him down but you’re cold and you’re beautiful and geto suguru is calling your name before he can think any better of it.

“y/n—here.”

he holds out his jacket. you turn back to look at the material, and then back at him.

“i don’t want it.”

he should stop. “you’re freezing. i don’t want you to catch a—“

“i’d rather freeze.” you deadpan. “can you not speak to me?”

geto bites his lip. he stops himself before he can say okay.

——

in the library’s study room, geto suguru has his head on his keyboard and eyes staring at the glass door.

his phone chimes, but he doesn’t check the message because he knows it’s just team snapchat. but then it chimes again, and geto reaches for his phone even though he knows there’s no point.

—

y/n :)

where are you

i have your location.

we need to work on the project

—

geto scrambles—actually scrambles, he accidentally knocks over the chair behind him—and then he breathes. wipes his face with his hoodie sleeves. breathes again.

when you walk in, you don’t say hi.

you sit diagonally across again, and open up your laptop. you look pretty today. hair loose over your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the weather, lashes fluttering in the light. and your lips are glossy again, like they were in the supermarket, like they were on the kitchen counter—and oh god. geto needs to stop staring.

but he doesn’t. he watches, mouth slightly agape, as your nails click at your keyboard. he can tell you’re upset or irritated, and he thinks—no, knows it’s because of him, and he really needs to get this work done so you won’t get sad and snap at him again. he doesn’t want to be in trouble. he doesn’t know what to do when you get like that. so he turns his eyes to his laptop. but somehow, they drift back to your face again.

“can you stop fucking staring at me?”

“sorry—“ he flinches. “i’m sorry, i’ll look away.”

there’s a lump in his throat. he’s looking at the screen but he can’t quite see it, and the numbers and columns have mixed together and swollen up on the page.

but you aren’t done.

“seriously, what is your problem?” you snap, irritated. “we have a project to do. and you’ve been letting your stupid feelings get in the way of it all!”

he wants to say he’s sorry again, and that his feelings aren’t stupid but he’s sorry, and it’s all he’ll ever be, but instead his voice comes out as a croak. “i’m trying.”

you stare at him in disbelief. his fingers are shaking under the table. has he always been this jumpy?

“you need to try harder,” you snarl. “or what? too busy thinking about marrying me? having me round with your baby?” he shrinks. “what the fuck, geto?”

he doesn’t know how to explain that that day in the living room he wasn’t thinking of actually giving you a baby, at least not right now. he doesn’t know how to explain that when he looks at you he thinks of forever, he wants forever, and ever since starting this project ‘forever’ has looked like wedding bells and sunday mornings and grocery runs with a mini-you in the cart. he doesn’t know how to say he wants you to be his, your last name, your everything, and it’s sick and twisted and too much too fast but geto suguru has never been able to want in increments.

so he shrinks. stares at his keyboard. you snap, “say something!”

“i’m sorry,” he croaks, eyes on his lap. “i didn’t want to—i wasn’t trying to—“

“you scared me!” you snap. “geto, you scared me. you’ve been scaring me! these last few weeks—“ you slam your book shut. “touching me. kissing me. and i don’t mind—swear to god i don’t. but you’ve been acting so weird so suddenly! saying things you’ve never said before. is this some kind of twisted roleplay?!”

geto stifles a breath. tries to count in his head so he doesn’t breakdown in front of you. he knows that wouldn’t be fair. you keep going:

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to think,” you grip the table. “my best friend of how many years gets partnered with me for a project, great! but then he starts kissing me on countertops. standing too close in grocery stores. telling me i’d make a pretty wife and mommy and—it’s weird! i don’t know where it’s coming from! he’s never said he likes me in his life, but he can’t wait to see me round with his baby?”

you’re sniffling now. “what the fuck, geto?”

your shoulders are shaking, and you’ve sat back down, and your pretty face is in your hands as you cry. geto’s heart aches. because you’re not supposed to cry because of him. because he’s not supposed to make you uncomfortable, or confused, or upset, and he’s done all of that in the span of a week. and geto’s mouth dries. he wants to pad over and hold you in his arms but he knows he doesn’t have the right to fucking do that.

he breathes in, deep.

“i’m sorry—for moving too fast,” his hands fist. “i’ve been in love with you since freshman year. and i tried, i swear i did, to show it. but you always laughed it off. and instead of telling you outright, i just got more and more aggressive with it. i think part of me has always thought you’d never feel the same,” he swallows. “so i thought it’d be safer to show it than say it out loud. but that was only safe for me.”

he bites his lip. you’re still bawling into your hands, small and terrified, and geto‘s eyes sting. he can’t believe you’re shaking because of him.

“baby—“ he catches himself, “please don’t cry,”

“i hate you,” you sob, “i’m never gonna forgive you ever.”

he swallows. “you don’t have to. but please don’t cry,” his hands tighten on his jeans. “i don’t know what to do when you cry.”

and it’s the first time geto’s been honest, because he really doesn’t know. because you’ve never cried because of him, and normally if you ever cried at all he’d drag you into his chest but right now that doesn’t feel appropriate.

but he gets up anyways.

takes your hands from your face. and you’re so gorgeous even with tears on your cheeks, eyes glistening wet, lips puffed out & nose flushed from crying. and he wants to hug you so badly, but for now he settles for crouching to your height and wiping the tears from your eyes.

you glare down at him, and he should be scared again but all he can think is that you’re so fucking cute. your nose is all puffy and your eyes slightly red. “you’re such an idiot.”

“i know.”

“and this is so cliché.”

“i know.”

“and i want you too, but slower.”

“i didn’t know that.”

“you know it now,” you curse. “you’re an idiot, i swear.”

geto breathes. and then you cup his face, watching the way his eyes glisten with wet. “you still haven’t confessed to me, suguru.”

“i love you,” he says too quickly. “since freshman year. i think about you too much. you’re always on my mind, and i don’t want anyone but you, and i love you so much y/n and i’ll love you forever if you’ll let me—“

you interrupt him with a kiss.

BONUS !

“i can’t believe he said he wants you round with his baby.”

the project is long over, and today you’re on the countertop of the sigma chi kitchen, legs swinging as you gossip with sukuna. he has your plantain chips in his hands, leaning against the counter as he eagerly munches on the snacks.

“i told him to approach you calmly and honestly, y’know? told him girls love communication,” sukuna clicks his tongue. “nobody listens to me in this household.”

you laugh, “really? that would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.”

“right?” sukuna shakes his head, passing you a plantain chip. “he’s got his brain in his ass cheeks, i swear.”

you giggle, and right then, the door swings open. sato gojo hurts in with his arms spread out in glee. “we’re back!”

geto trudges behind him, holding too many shopping bags for one person. sato has already run towards his room, leaving you and sukuna confused—but then geto drops the bags to the floor with a thud. he looks up at you. “hey,”

sukuna absentmindedly blocks your head with his own. “yo, man.”

“can you move your fat fucking head?” geto walks past him, ignoring the gasp sukuna lets out. he brackets you on the counter, forehead slightly sticky with sweat, chain glistening in the afternoon heat.

he murmurs, “hi, baby.”

“hi, handsome,” you cup his face. “back from your date with sato?”

“not a date,” he mumbles, kissing your palm, then your cheek, then your jaw. “was getting groceries.” he murmurs. “missed you so bad, pretty.”

you gigle, squeaking and squirming away as he attacks your face with kisses. he pulls back teasingly, smile smug, before you tug him back in by his chain. sukuna watches calmly, shoving another plantain chip in his mouth. he nods in approval of the flavor.

but he quickly grows bored. “don’t get too comfortable guys. i’ll whip out my dick and start stroking right now.”

“what...?”

“can you pretend to be normal?!”

before suguru can strangle sukuna, sato bounces back into the kitchen. his grin is clumsy, cap tilting off his hair, and in his hands is a machine that looks like a mini-tablet and a bunch of wires connected to pads at the ends.

sukuna’s face contorts in horror. “is that—“

“yup!” sato beams. “it’s time for round two!”

SIGMA CHI’S REMARK : NICE WORK, DADDY GETO !

# SIGMA CHI STORIES !

© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.

“sugu? are you done yet?” your shout was followed by a long, nasal sigh. “we have a reservation in a few, and i don’t want to dine with you smelling like chlorine!”

the man glanced at the bleachers, still floating around in the pool to relax after his intense practice. he shone his brightest smile at your complaints, “coming right up!” suguru chuckled and lifted himself up.

“sugu?” his teammate pestered, tossing a towel at him. “that’s new. can i call you that too, my boo bear?”

“shut up, satoru.” geto tediously reprimanded while throwing his swim cap aside to dry his hair. he would admit that he was still not used to having you call him by nicknames, though in no way he was bothered by them.

“finally,” you walked up to your fake boyfriend, lightly slapping his buff arm. “we have an hour to be at the restaurant, yet we’re still here. can you hurry up?” you requested again. that reservation was the event of year to you, and due to your and his social status, you managed to skip the waiting line. you wanted the raven-haired man to treat it as seriously as you.

suguru looked at you with a soft smile, dipping a kiss to your lips, “sorry, angel.” he mumbled into your mouth, towel thrown around his neck. his hand went to your waist whilst his wet body lightly pressed against your designer clothes, making you flinch in annoyance.

“keep saying sorry for the next ten years and maybe i’ll forgive you.” your grumble snatched a laugh out of him, and you hoped he’d hurry up and put on some clothes to leave the place. you didn’t have enough time to keep up with your routine of staring at his muscles at the moment.

“kay. sorry again,” using his free hand, he cupped your jaw to press a small peck to your temple and nose — totally unnecessary, but to suguru, every touch and caress was treated like a basic human need.

a huff escaped your lips, “whatever.”

you gulped down all kinds of reaction to his affection and walked off to one of the benches nearby, waiting for your cue to leave.

the other athlete snickered, expression composed of a mix of comedic disgust and tenderness as he observed his friend stare at you with heart eyes. “you’re so in love it’s sickening to watch.” satoru shook his head to show his disappointment on the faux relationship (that he was well aware of).

nevertheless, the accusation fell deaf on suguru’s ears, his eyes trained on you and the way you so endearingly stared at everything but him. when you tapped your shoes in an anxious fashion, or when your lips curled down in a pout, he couldn’t help but feel glad for his crazy fans once wanting you two together.

“maybe i am.” suguru murmured on autopilot mode, a grin blooming on his lips. he was so going to kiss you stupid after that dinner. 

before the white-haired swimmer noticed, geto was already fully dressed and hurrying to your side, fingers intertwined with yours to leave.

“huh...” satoru clicked his tongue, amused by the whole scene going on in front of him. “he really broke the first rule of fake dating.”

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“leave.”

yuji cackled at megumis shy eyes, watching as he pursed his lips— puffing out his scarf and tucking it into his jacket.

“yeah, yeah..” yuji giggled, watching as he walked towards his door. “hey- have fun fushigoru!”

“mhm..” he grumbled.

megumi suddenly stilled, slender fingers grazing the smooth door handle.

yuji blinked, watching as his shoulders caved in and his hand shook ever so slightly. “hey- do.. do girls like movies?” he murmured, voice cracking as his heart thumped.

yujis eyes widened, lips parted as he started at megumis hunched back— his ears flush a rare red.

“yeah.. yeah,” he breathed out, sitting straight as he watched his typically composed friends breath shudder ever so slightly. “they do bro..”

a small smile graced megumis lips, eyes fluttering shut as his long, dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, sighing contentedly “…good.” he pushed the door open in one smooth moment.

yuji waved excitedly, sitting comfortably on megumis bed and voice voided of teasing. “good luck fushigoru!”

“girls like it when you take lead! remember that bro!”

turning up ten minutes early was standard right?

megumi pondered, brows scrunched together as be swiped lazily on his phone— the cool breeze ruffling his black hair and pecking his cheeks red, the tokyo street bustling and busy with passer-by’s.

he landed himself on your instagram feed, mindlessly scrolling through the already liked pictures once more— collections of ‘ootd’ or pretty pictures of food or scenery.

or, his personal favourite.

the rare snapshot of your face— bright and shining amongst your normally faceless feed, showing off your makeup.

“megumi?”

he jumped, eyes widening as he fumbled with his phone, peering down at you with raised brows.

“oh- sorry! didn’t mean to scare you!”

he coughed, tucking his phone into his thick jacket. “no- no, you’re good..” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

the walk to the cinema was silent, painfully so.

megumi gulped as his gaze remained sharp and steady infront of him while you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

“it’s so cold.. m’freezing—”

“do you like sweet or salted popcorn—”

“oh, sorry—”

“ah- go ahead!—”

you both stilled, melted in position before you let out a soft laugh— a wisp of cool air floating from your parted lips.

“sorry, I’m being really awkward..” you giggled, sliding your hands into your pockets.

“no, no- it’s fine, I am too.” he sighed, a rare upturn in his lips appearing— small dimples carving it’s way into his cheeks.

“so,” he re-begun, the pace settled between the pair of you. “sweet or salted?”

you tapped your bottom lip thoughtfully, “sweet!”

“thought so.”

you tilted your head, “bet you like salted.”

“..is it obvious?”

you giggled, “very.”

he scoffed, adjusting his scarf to cover his face.

the rest of the walk was comfortably filled with small remarks about shops, to which megumi made a mental note to remember.

“you said you’re cold?” he suddenly spoke.

you took your hands out of your pockets, watching them shake slightly. “oh- yeah.. I am.”

‘girls like it when you take lead! remember that bro!’

screw it.

“do you.. wanna hold hands?” he muttered, quickly following it with a— “for efficient and maximum warmth of course..”

he clenched his jaw, staring down at you. ‘for efficient and maximum warmth?’

who even says that?

you gulped, “oh.. yeah! yes! that’d be nice..”

he watched as your shivering hand slid into his somehow warm one— slotting perfectly in place as he softly brushed his slender fingers over your knuckles.

you both quickly looked to the side as you continued to walk, eyes darting around as megumis cheeks glistened red and a familiar hotness crawled from your neck to your ears.

“two tickets for miraculous love one please.”

the clerk nodded, “any snacks?”

megumi looked down at you from his peripheral vision, raising a brow. “oh! really? it’s fine I can pay for my own.. you already brought the tickets..”

“what do you want?”

“..blue slushie and sweet popcorn please!” you grinned, tapping your nails excitedly on the desk.

“i’ll have salted popcorn and water please.”

“thank you, that’ll be eight thousand, four hundred and forty-four yen please— tap when you’re ready.”

“I cant believe you’ve never watched it megumi..” you whispered, to which he rolled his eyes.

“tch’.. romance movies suck.”

you gripping, holding your large cup of popcorn and slushie, “liar..”

the room was dark and partially filled with waiting on-lookers, ads flashing on the screen as the aroma of nachos and sweet treats filtered the air.

“so,” megumi whispered, trailing behind you and up the stairs to the seats in the far back corner. “what’s this about?”

“no spoilers!”

he sighed, placing his drink in the cupholder. “great.”

the movie ended and megumi still couldn’t tell you the plot of the movie even if he tried.

his sharp, green eyes flickering and lingering on you throughout the entire duration of the film— cheeks flushed as he watched how scenes elicited cute giggles and small gasps from you, even awing at the main couple with complete adoration.

the constant yellow tint from the large screen soaking your features in a pretty hue, painted lashes fluttering wide as your eyes sparkled an swirled with intrigue.

“the main characters so cute right?” you gushed.

megumi blinked, adjusting his jacket. “uh- yeah- yup.. he’s cool.”

you paused, “he? the main characters a girl megumi..”

he grumbled, “well—”

the walk back to jujutsu high was filled with your voice sounding his ears— fawning over things many watchers wouldn’t have noticed before, how the colour pallet was intentional.

soon enough you both landed in-front of your dorm door, the awkwardness creeping in again. “I.. I had fun megumi.”

“yeah, m’too..” hands deep in his pockets as he looked down, his scuffed shoes seemingly very interesting.

you pursed your lips, “would you.. like to go on another? another date?”

his eyes widened, head snapping towards you. “yeah..”

you twisted your ankle, chest thumping so loud megumi could probably hear it. “okay..”

you rose on your tip-toes and lightly pressed a small kiss to his carved cheek, the warmth of your smooth lips spreading through his body. “goodnight megumi..” you mumbled, quickly moving and shutting the door behind you.

he stared dumbly at the wooden door, slowly pressing two fingers to the place you pecked, feeling the remnants of gloss staining his fingers— a gentle and reserved smile making it’s way onto his face, eyes fluttering shut reverently.

he was looking forward to that second date.

more ⠀ sweet ⠀ treats

mokis ⠀ notes ﹕ wow this one was kinda long…TYSM mootie @louisiye for this req !! literally the biggest gumi stan ik ( ̳ට ̫ ට ̳) i rlly hope u enjoyed this its what you imagined (im a bit rusty so bare with me..) i didnt realise how dialogue heavy this was omg … megumi is such a cutie omg !!! is it rlly a moki megumi fic if his pretty lashes aren’t mentioned (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗) ?? when i was writing this i remembered how many megumi fan girls followed me after my photographer!megumi 😭😭 made me giggle !! anyway TYSM FOR READING TILL THE END AND I HOPE U ENJOYED !! 🫰🏽🫰🏽I LOVE U SM MY KOKKIS 🧁🧁 (please lmk if u see any mistakes omg i feel like i missed some when proof reading..)

div strangergraphics

ping ! @selenewowww @vanillakirstein @imjustanobody2024 @janeisnotonline @weengoku @azureamp3 @ctrlchigiri @louisiye @anosreep @gfsuki @akaashiit @reilacori @starr-jazz @lorikuma @0-kry @abyvel-yukik @lizpoir @fairyof553 @angeliiiiiiii @corealism @yukonoo @boomgshakalaka @shuunderstarryskies @twinfaes @boombopbam @sixeyeskh @sugerfilled @charliedaltonsgfsblog @uranuoooooooouu @fushihearts @animebae100

all rights reserved to © MOKKIAUN all work belongs to me , do not feed my work into ai , copy or translate without permission.

You tap your fingers against the sheet of paper, considering your options. The only way to get out of this whole thing would be to request reassignment, but that was unlikely to happen, and you weren’t about to sacrifice both your pride and dignity. 

Instead, you turn to ruminating about the many methods with which you could murder Caleb without getting court-martialed. You’re too distracted to hear the laughter in the hallway and the footsteps approaching you. There’s an arm slinging over your shoulders, the weight of it making you stiffen as you’re pulled in close to the man’s side. 

“Hey, pipsqueak.”

“Caleb,” you greet coldly, glaring up at him. 

Caleb grins down at you, leaning in close. “Saw the eval sheet,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue, “my condolences.”

You shove him away roughly with a grunt. “I don’t need your condolences, asshole,” you snap, finger pushing into his chest, his neatly pressed uniform beginning to crease under the pressure. “I’ll be running you and your jet into the ground.”

“Ouch,” he drawls, rubbing his hand over the spot where you had poked him. “Always so mean. Keep glaring at me like that and you’ll get wrinkles. Won’t do you any good to end up uglier than you already are.”

Your fingers twitch at his insult, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from shouting at him.

“You won’t have to see me for much longer,” you announce, crossing your arms over your chest. “After today, the Colonel will be so impressed that she’ll have no choice but to give me a promotion.”

Caleb snorts, his head cocking to the side as he leans against the board lazily. “This is an eval, pipsqueak. Promotions aren’t handed out until next month.”

You let out a heavy breath, shifting on your feet agitatedly. “It’s either me or you,” you say pointedly, shoulders shrugging. “And as much as I hate to admit it, you’re the one with an advantage here.”

He rolls his eyes, his fingers brushing across his uniform to fix the creases. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with me being a military brat?” he offers, raising his brows.

“Fuck you,” you reply, brows furrowing, “you’ll get all the fucking recommendations you need because daddy’s in charge.”

You flinch when his hand slaps the wall next to your head, your gaze meeting his as he boxes you in against the wall. Caleb’s eyes are dark, and you smile smugly, relishing in the fact that you were still able to get under his skin.

“What?” you whisper, rocking up onto your toes, “can’t handle it? You’re not pulling the strings around here, Lieutenant. Your dad is.”

Caleb’s jaw clenches, and you swallow harshly when he leans closer, feeling his breath fan across your face as he speaks. “Is that why I’m the best in class?” he murmurs, his head tilting. “Hm?” He leans in closer, and you jerk back when his nose brushes against yours. “Is that why you lose to me in the air every single time? Can’t even fucking lock onto me without blowing an engine, pipsqueak.”

A harsh breath of air escapes you when he brings that up, eyes narrowing venomously. You consider lashing out, clawing into his stupid uniform that seemed to never hold a crease until you drew blood. Instead, you look away, lips pursing for a brief moment before you look back up at him. Caleb smiles down at you, his eyes dark and sharp, and you think about how nice it would be to drive your fist into his stupidly perfect face.

“I hate you,” you say finally, averting your gaze. “You’re insufferable, inconsiderate and a piece of shit,” you continue, teeth grinding together, voice hardening. “Now get the fuck out of my face, Caleb.” 

Caleb scoffs sharply, his expression twisting into a sneer. But he does as you say, stepping back to give you space. Your lip twitches as you sneer back, boots echoing through the hallway as you walk away. You don’t get far, his fingers curling around your wrist to tug you back.

“Reccommendations are an incentive,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “I’ll be Captain soon. I suggest you start practicing how to address me.” You wince when his fingers dig into your wrist harder. “Show some fucking respect, yeah?”

Your fingers flex, jaw working as you try and process the sheer audacity of the man standing before you. The darkness in his gaze has you fighting the urge to reel back, your skin prickling with uneasiness as he stares down at you unnervingly. He’d always been like this – calculating, vicious, a threat – from the moment you’d stepped foot onto this base.

Pulling away now would only admit defeat, and so you steel yourself, brows raising with feigned nonchalance as you tamp down the anger festering inside of you. He stiffens when you step closer, and you smile sharply, your lips brushing against his ear in a low, venomous hiss.

“Earn it.”

You pull back soon after, not bothering to glance at his expression as you shake your wrist free, storming down the hall to your dorm. You feel hot, cheeks flushed with anger as your hands curl into fists, boots kicked off unceremoniously before you flop down onto your bed. A muffled scream leaves you as you bury your face into the pillows, fists coming down against the sheets until you realize how far under your skin Caleb’s gotten.

Several minutes pass as you stew in your anger, face nuzzling into your pillow as you frown, lamenting the fact you’d been assigned to this base from the beginning. Once you’ve managed to gain some semblance of control, you sit up with a heavy exhale, eyes fluttering shut as you mentally work through the components of the evaluation. 

The knowledge based test was where you could gain the upperhand. You’d studied the assigned chapters inside and out, had made enough flashcards that even Tara had complained about the overflowing pile of colored cards on your desk. Aerial combat was where you fell short. Sure, you were a good pilot – second only to Caleb – but the way Caleb handled his jet was vastly different.  

Limits didn’t seem to exist to him, and if they did, he broke them. You’d seen him fly, seen him execute complex maneuvers that had left even the most experienced flight instructors stunned. Caleb was reckless, but in a controlled sort of way that never failed to leave you off-kilter when you were in the air with him. 

You jolt when the speaker blares through the dorms, announcing that testing was due to begin. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble, stumbling around your dorm as you pull your boots back on, fixing your uniform in the mirror. You frown as you smooth a few stray hairs back into place, adjusting your bun until you’re satisfied.

Eyes fluttering shut, you take a few deep breaths, reminding yourself of what was at stake. Shoulders rolling back, you gather your things before stepping out of your dorm. 

You roll your eyes when you see who’s waiting in line to enter the testing room. Caleb doesn’t seem to notice as you step up behind him, so you take the opportunity to let your gaze trail over his broad shoulders with mild interest.

The military didn’t exactly encourage relationships, but you’d heard the various rumours floating around about Caleb. Besides, it wasn’t hard to miss the blushing faces and hushed whispers whenever Caleb strode past. It irked you, the fact that everyone else couldn’t see how completely insufferable the man standing in front of you was. 

Your lips purse in annoyance. If he wasn’t such a pain in the ass, he’d be nice to look at. You ogle Caleb’s shoulders and back for a little longer, gaze dipping down to his waist for a brief moment before your eyes snap up when he turns around to face you. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Caleb drawls, crossing his arms over his chest, “should I turn back around so you can keep staring?”

“Yes, actually,” you shoot back, “then I wouldn’t have to look at that.” You gesture to his face with a look of disgust. For a moment, you think you see mirth flickering in his gaze, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“Well,” he muses, stepping closer, “we both know that’s not true. You like glaring at me too much to stop.” 

“That’s sweet,” you coo mockingly, clutching your chest, “you pay so much attention to me. I’m honored, really.”

Caleb rolls his eyes, his gaze flitting back when the line starts to move. You raise your brows when he turns back to you, head tilting away when he leans in to whisper. You know better than to take his words for anything but a threat.

“I’ll see you in the air, pipsqueak.”

–

The tarmac is swelteringly hot.

You adjust your flight suit, face twisting with discomfort as another current of hot air blows into your face. There’s a few flight instructors huddled together and you sigh, wiping at the sweat beading across your forehead, before tugging your sunglasses down to dim the bright glare of the sun sweeping across the tarmac. 

Caleb’s nowhere to be seen, and you’re grateful for the reprieve. The test had been easy enough, and you’d been able to answer most of the questions without a hitch. An exasperated sigh escapes you as the flight instructors continue to deliberate, and you move under the wing of your jet, seeking shade.

“Plan on blowing another engine today?”

You jolt at the sound of Caleb’s voice, losing your balance for a moment before straightening out.

“What is your problem?” you ask snappily, swatting his hand away when he runs it along the side of your jet. “Don’t touch her.”

He sighs exasperatedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you ever not wound up?” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m just having a little fun, pipsqueak.”

You stare up at him, brows furrowing in annoyance. “You said you’d see me in the air, asshole. I bet you’d love to see me go down in flames.”

“Yeah, well maybe then you’d be outta my hair,” Caleb says, shrugging noncommittally. 

Your expression twists, an irritated noise escaping you. When he tries stepping closer, his arm brushing against yours, you jerk back, slamming your boot down onto his. You watch with amusement as he winces in pain, crouching over to grab at his foot.

“Oops,” you offer innocently, smiling at him smugly when he glares up at you.

“Real funny,” Caleb mutters under his breath, his hand shooting out to grab yours.

You frown, trying to pull your hand free, but he’s pulling you closer, forcing you to step back until you’re trapped between him and your jet.

“Have you lost your mind?” you hiss, trying to peer around his side to see whether the flight instructors were watching. “We’ll both get penalized for– for fraternizing!”

“Fraternizing?” Caleb snorts, stopping you from moving, one of his hands slipping down to settle on your hip. “Relax, would you? The last thing I want to do is fraternize with you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” you scoff loudly, shoving at his chest, trying to get the attention of your instructors. “Get off of me–”

“Hey,” Caleb snaps lowly, catching your wrists in his hand. “I said relax, pipsqueak.” 

“Is this some kinda fucking joke?” you snarl, squirming in his grasp. “You spew all that bullshit about showing respect and now you’re–” you suck in a sharp breath when his grip tightens, “you’re sabotaging me!”

He lets out a heavy breath, stepping closer until his tall frame blocks you from being seen. You blink up at him with wide eyes – part scandalized, part aggravated – a shriek beginning to claw its way out of your throat until he groans and slips his hand over your mouth, effectively muffling the sound.

“Listen up,” he murmurs, pushing your sunglasses up until they sit on your head. “I’m not sabotaging you, okay?” Caleb stares down at you, his head tilting. “I just thought I’d give you some tips… to make it a fair playing field.”

You stare up at him blankly, blinking slowly as you process his words. He looks uncharacteristically… genuine, and the sight unnerves you so much to the point that you thrash violently until he reluctantly lets his hand slip from your mouth. 

“You have lost your mind, haven’t you?” you murmur, nodding vigorously, “I mean, I figured one day the lack of oxygen up there would get to your brain but apparently–”

“I thought you wanted to be promoted,” Caleb interrupts, his voice sharp, “I’m giving you a leg up.”

“Why the fuck would I want a leg up from you?” you retort, raising your brows incredulously. “You– you threatened me, and– and now,” you gesture at him wildly, “you want to play fair?”

“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart,” he hisses, glaring down at you. “Maybe I think that you’re one of the best fucking pilots I’ve ever seen and that maybe you deserve that promotion.”

You clamp your mouth shut at that. Caleb averts his gaze, his jaw clenching as he steps back. It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s saying, what he’s offering to you. 

“Do I come across as pathetic to you, Caleb?” you murmur, stepping closer to him. Your cheeks grow hot with anger when he avoids your eyes. “Hey,” you snap your fingers in front over his face, “over here, asshole. Answer my question.”

It’s a terrible idea, really, but you’re far too irritated to worry about whether anyone’s watching or whether you’ll get penalized for this. Your fingers curl into Caleb’s flight suit, yanking him towards you until he’s forced to meet your gaze.

“No,” he says finally, his lips thinning, “but I know you well enough to know that the moment we’re in the air, you’ll do whatever it takes.”

“And how exactly is that a problem?”

Caleb lets out a dry laugh, leaning back. “You push too far and you’re gonna get yourself killed, pipsqueak. You blew an engine last time because you went too hard, too fast.” His fingers brush over yours, his skin warm and calloused as they drift over your knuckles before he pries your hand off of his flight suit. 

He narrows his eyes, and you swallow harshly when he stares down at you so intently, you’re almost sure that he can see right through you. You don’t know what he’s playing at, don’t know whether he’s saying all of this to try and get into your head. Despite it all, you know well enough that you can’t trust Caleb.

“You’re reckless,” you breathe out, “even more so than me. Are you telling me I can’t push my limits?”

Caleb shrugs, leaning against your jet. Your eye twitches at the action, hands clenching into fists at your sides. 

“Yeah, well…” he trails off, his gaze flitting behind you. “I know what I’m doing, pipsqueak.”

There’s a barrage of insults sitting on the tip of your tongue, the heat around you and your own anger putting you further on edge. You have half a mind to slap him, but the flight instructors are calling out your names, so you settle on saving your energy, standing at attention as one of the instructors reads out his checklist.

“Alright,” the instructor announces, playing with his clipboard. “The hard deck is set at 10,000 feet, do not go below it. Play it by the book, I don’t want to see any aerial maneuvers that haven’t already been approved – I’m looking at you, Lieutenant Xia.”

Caleb states his assent and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, shifting on your feet instead.

“Finally, make the right decisions,” the instructor glances at you and Caleb pointedly. “I don’t wanna see any half-assed heroic bullshit up there. Anything goes wrong with your jet, you eject. Is that clear, Lieutenants?”

“Yes, sir,” you and Caleb say in unison, before saluting the instructor.

He nods in approval, before nodding towards your jets. You suck in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you exhale, trying to calm your nerves as you settle into your jet. 

You do a quick check of the controls, nodding to the technician standing by once you’re satisfied. The sound of your jet’s engines helps calm you, and you hum to yourself, flicking a switch in front of you to close the canopy. 

It seals into place easily and you glance outside, huffing out a breath when you see Caleb’s jet taking off.

“Asshole,” you grumble under your breath, fingers tightening around the flight control stick.

Static flickers in your ears for a few minutes, your instructor’s voice crackling through the earpiece. 

“All clear for take-off, Lieutenant. Have fun up there.”

That makes a small smile tug at your lips.

“Copy.”

–

You don’t blow an engine.

You don’t even go below the hard deck. 

But you do lose.

Your flight suit rumples as you tug it off roughly, letting it drop to the floor. You’re hot, sweaty and embarrassed. You’d spent the first half of the fight trying to lock onto Caleb, and the second trying to evade him. 

All he had needed was a sliver of an opening and he’d taken it, maneuvering his jet until he was behind you and the kill alarm had glared in your ears. The locker rattles as you slam it shut, an irritated noise leaving you as you wipe the sweat from your flushed face, now dreading the fact that you had to see Caleb’s stupid, gloating expression.

It’s precisely why you decide to avoid him, poking your head out of the changing room to make sure the hallway was clear. You dart out, quickening your pace as you make your way towards your dorm, Caleb nowhere to be seen.

A relieved sigh leaves you when you make into the safety of your dorm, forehead pressing against the door as your shoulders sag in defeat. 

“Should’ve taken the leg up.”

You jerk against the door, turning around to see Caleb sprawled out on your bed, his teeth sinking into an apple.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snap, “how did you even get in?”

“Your roommate,” Caleb supplies, sitting up as he takes another bite out of his apple. “Think she might be a little scared of me.”

“Get out,” you hiss, pointing at the door. “I don’t what you’re playing at, but sneaking into my fucking dorm is a whole new low, Caleb.”

“Don’t you want to congratulate me?” he croons, standing up. You frown when he steps towards you, inching back until your desk digs into your lower back. Caleb holds out his half-eaten apple. “Wanna bite, pipsqueak?”

You don’t know why he’s so intent on testing your patience. You snatch his apple from him, tossing it into the trash can beside your desk. “Does that answer your question?”

“So you’re unhappy,” Caleb surmises, his head tilting. “You shouldn’t be. You did well out there.”

“Oh,” you say, giving him a wide, exaggerated smile that makes your cheeks burn, “is that right? Wow! Thank you so much, Caleb. That makes me feel much better.”

“Okay,” Caleb rolls his eyes, stepping closer until his hands land on either side of you. “No need to be so bitey, pipsqueak. You’ll get that promotion.”

“Fat chance,” you retort, “I embarrassed myself out there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Caleb murmurs, his fingers reaching out to play with your dog tags.

One of his fingers hooks into the chain, using it to tug you forward. You go willingly, peering up at him, confusion flickering across your face. 

“Did you want to fuck me or something?”

The words spill out of you before you can stop yourself, and there’s a strange flush tinging Caleb’s cheeks and the tips of his ears when he registers your question.

“Wasn’t expecting that out of you,” he says, sounding oddly choked as he lets go of your dog tags.

You raise your brows.

“No– what the fuck? No,” Caleb snaps, his gaze flitting away, “why would I want to fuck you?”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “good. Then get the fuck out of my dorm.”

Caleb stiffens for a moment as though frozen in place. He opens his mouth until he decides to swallow whatever it was he was going to say. 

You shove at his back, pushing him out of your dorm. The door nearly shuts, but Caleb’s hand catches onto the edge. His head pokes inside and you narrow your eyes irritatedly.

Caleb grins down at you. “Is that your way of asking me to fuck you, pipsqueak?”

You slam the door shut in his face.

–

A few weeks later, you find a letter on your desk.

You aren’t addressed as Lieutentant, but rather… Captain.

You stare at the letter blankly, skimming through it with disbelief as you read that you have, in fact, been given a rank promotion. It shouldn’t be possible, you think to yourself as you read the letter over again, and then once more, twice and three times over.

There’s a knock on your door, and you find a Captain standing outside. “Colonel’s asking for you,” he offers in explanation when he sees your expression.

“For what?” you ask, your grip on the letter tightening.

“Your promotion,” he says, glancing down, “you did get the letter, didn’t you?”

“I– uh–” you stumble over your words before nodding, showing him the letter. “Yes, I did.”

The Captain offers you a smile. “Congratulations.”

You feel faint when he leaves. There’s not enough time to panic, so you settle on fixing your hair and uniform, finding a random piece of candy to chew on whilst you wait outside the Colonel’s office.

“Come in.”

You step inside, closing the door behind you quietly. The Colonel looks as intimidating as ever, her eyes sharp as she watches you step towards her desk. You straighten out as much as you can, keeping your shoulders level. 

“Congratulations, Captain,” the Colonel announces warmly, pushing your certificate and rank insignia towards you.

“Thank you, Colonel,” you say, offering her a smile of your own as you take the items. 

“I was rather impressed with your performance during the evaluations,” she continues, clasping her hands together, elbows resting on her desk.

“You were?” you ask, flushing lightly until you realize how high your voice has gotten. “You were,” you clear your throat, “I see. Thank you.”

“Yes, well, the recommendations were a nice touch,” she muses, “I must say I was surprised when I saw the letters on my desk.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. You hadn’t submitted any recommendations. There was nowhere stating that you had to provide recommendations. All you’d submitted was the performance report given to you by your supervisor. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, shifting a little closer. “What recommendations? I thought promotion to the rank of Captain was performance based.”

“Oh it is,” the Colonel replies breezily, peering up at you as she stops rifling through the papers on her desk. “Lieutenant Xia,” she explains when she sees your expression. “He pulled the letters of recommendation from all of your instructors.”

Caleb Xia.

Caleb fucking Xia. 

You try and school your expression into one of neutrality, before giving up and forcing a tight smile onto your face.

“But he’s a lieutenant,” you blurt out, fingers twitching at his sides. “He doesn’t have the clearance or– or the authority to go around doing that.”

“I misspoke,” she says, her head tilting. “Lieutenant– I really should say Captain Xia has also been promoted. He was very insistent about your promotion and given who his father is, well…”

You watch as she trails off, teeth gritting together. He was pulling the strings, that conniving, little– 

Your stomach churns only a moment later, fingers beginning to tremble. Without the recommendations… What if that was the reason why…? The pit in your stomach grows, carving itself deeper and deeper, dragging your cheeks down, forcing your lips to thin. 

“Would I have been promoted regardless?” You sound breathless but blunt, heart clenching in your chest uncomfortably.

“As I said,” the Colonel says, “they were a nice touch, but your performance report was entirely sufficient for promotion, Captain.”

A relieved breath escapes you, shoulders sagging. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“Of course. You are dismissed.”

You nod, giving her a salute before stepping outside, jaw clenching. You stare down at the certificate and rank insignia clutched in your hands. You were going to kill Caleb. 

Storming through the hallways, you peruse the men’s dorms until you find Caleb’s, knocking on the door impatiently, boot tapping against the floor.

When the door opens you find Gideon standing before you, his brows raising in amusement and towel in hand. “Can I help you?”

You ignore his question. “Where is he?” you ask, poking your head inside, glancing around. 

“You don’t know?” Gideon muses, slinging his towel around his neck. “Figured you would, since you two are always hanging around each other.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you say exasperatedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Nothing,” Gideon replies flippantly, although his gaze travels over you thoughtfully. 

“Are you checking me out?” you snap, glaring up at him, irritation prickling along your skin.

“What?” he laughs, his head tilting. “No. Give me a little credit, yeah?” He stares at you for a bit longer, mumbling something under his breath that sounds suspiciously similar to “Caleb would kill me.”

“Well, where is he?” you press, growing antsy. “Give it up, Gideon.”

Gideon grins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Still surprised he didn’t tell you,” he shrugs, “Caleb’s gone home for the holiday break. He lives close to base though, you know, with his dad being the General and all.”

“I need his address,” you sigh. “Please?”

He hums, disappearing into his dorm before he returns with Caleb’s address scrawled onto a piece of paper.

“Thank you.” 

“Try not to chew him out!” Gideon calls from behind you as you leave.

–

You ring the doorbell for about the tenth time.

For a moment, you almost consider breaking in, but that wouldn’t exactly put you in the good graces of the General, not to mention you’d lose your newly earned rank.

The sound of someone grumbling inside makes your ears prick up, and the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Caleb. It’s not your fault, you tell yourself as your gaze drops down immediately, taking in his firm chest and abdomen, tongue darting out to wet your lips involuntarily when you see the sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Pipsqueak,” Caleb greets, leaning against the doorway, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” you reply, pushing past him to step inside, taking your shoes off.

“Haven’t seen you out of uniform in a while,” Caleb says, his dog tags clinking between his pecs distractedly. “You look… nice.”

You ignore his attempt at a compliment. “Are you really going to play dumb?” you ask, head tilting.

“So you know.”

You wait for him to elaborate, raising your brows and throwing up your hands, but all he does is stare at you.

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” you snap when the silence grows too loud. “I don’t need your fucking help, Caleb! My performance was enough for the rank promotion!”

“I was doing you a favor!” Caleb snaps back, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah, your performance was enough, even I fucking knew that!”

“So why send the letters?” you hiss, stepping closer to him, your finger prodding into his bare chest. “Huh? Doesn’t sound like you thought I was good enough, Caleb.”

His throat bobs and you’re distracted by it for a moment, hand jerking back when you feel how warm his chest is.

“I said you deserved it,” Caleb murmurs, his voice low. “I was just… guaranteeing it.” 

A sharp scoff leaves you as you begin to pace, cheeks hot with anger. “You are just so full of yourself!” you grit out, pointing at him accusingly. 

“What do you want me to say?” he snarls, stepping towards you. “That I’m sorry? Is that what you want to hear?”

Your hand is swinging out before you can stop yourself. It connects with his cheek, the sound sharp as his head snaps to the side. Your palm stings as redness blooms across Caleb’s cheek. 

“There,” you say hoarsely, “that’s what I wanted.”

His jaw clenches when his head turns to look at you. You take a step back when he begins stalking towards you, stumbling on the rug on the floor. Caleb catches your wrist before you can fall, but you’re too wound up to shake free, instead using your free hand to slap him across the face again.

“Okay,” he breathes out, both of his cheeks now reddened and flushed. “Okay. You got anything else you wanna get out?”

“Yeah, actually,” you begin, glaring up at him. “Stop calling me pipsqueak, I have a name and you can–”

A muted squeak escapes you when his hands slide over your cheeks to cup them before he’s drawing you closer, pressing his lips against yours. You freeze, going limp in his arms when Caleb presses closer, the force of his lips growing more insistent until he pulls back.

You blink up at him slowly, lips parting in disbelief.

“Stop yelling at me,” Caleb murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. “You can slap me, but you can’t yell at me.”

“What?” you ask hazily, leaning into him when he kisses you again, his lips brushing over yours fleetingly. “You got a kink for it or something?”

“Maybe,” he says, his lips drifting across your skin to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You’re mad, I get it. And I shouldn’t have done what I did, without asking you.”

“I hate you,” you murmur, frowning when he pulls back until you realize what he’s doing – what you’re doing.

“That’s cute,” Caleb sighs, running his hand through his hair. “But I really, really want to kiss you.”

“Stop trying to distract me from the fact that you’re an insuffera– mmph!”

Caleb’s lips are slotting over yours again and you try to move away, only for his arm to slide around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Shut up,” he whispers against your lips. “I told you not to yell at me.”

Your eyes narrow at his words, fingers hooking into the chain around his neck, dragging him closer.

“Never thought you’d have a crush on me, asshole,” you hiss, gaze dropping down to his lips.

“I could say the same about you,” Caleb muses, his eyes boring down into yours. “Think I wouldn’t notice all that staring down at the base? You look like you’re in love whenever I’m in my flight suit, baby.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, hand swinging out to slap him again.

Caleb tsks, his hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you. He grins down at you, the glint in his eyes feral enough to have your thighs pressing together, an ache beginning to grow between them.

“Save that for when you’re riding my cock,” he murmurs, “for now… ‘m gonna kiss the shit outta you.”

You flush at his words, heart thudding in your chest. He leans in closer, fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your head towards him. “Is that okay?” Caleb whispers, his head dipping.

“I hate you,” you shoot back, close to sounding like a broken record. You press closer all the same, arms wrapping around his neck before you rock up onto the tips of your toes and press your lips against his.

Caleb groans, and you whine back – unable to help yourself – as he slips his hands under your thighs, lifting you up. He kisses you hungrily, lips working against yours feverishly as your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging at the soft strands.

And Caleb does kiss the shit out of you. You can hardly breathe, but it doesn’t matter, not when his lips are working against yours so earnestly, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, coaxing you to open up. You arch under him when he places you onto his bed, legs wrapping around his waist tightly, ankles locking together. He presses closer, warm fingers sliding over your skin to cup your jaw as he holds you in place, licking into your mouth like a man starved.

You mewl when his tongue tangles with yours, eyes opening hazily when Caleb’s lips drift to the corner of your mouth. His grip is rough, and you squirm under him when his fingers dig into your hips through your shorts, hard enough that you think you can feel the bruises beginning to bloom.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes out, lips dragging along your jaw, “you know how hard it is to not pop a boner when you’re being mean to me?”

“‘m mean because you’re fucking annoying,” you whisper, grabbing his jaw to guide him back towards you, kissing him again.

Caleb smiles against your lips and you find yourself smiling back, letting his lips slot over yours more firmly as he kisses you deeper and deeper, until you’re gasping for air and writhing underneath him.

“Am I being annoying now?” he asks, pulling away, his fingers pushing at your shirt until he’s able to tug it up over your head.

“I don’t know,” you muse, your head tilting as he stares at your bra intently. You bite back a smile, reaching back to undo the clasp before tugging it off and tossing it to the side somewhere. “Are you?”

He lets out a heavy breath, and you squirm when he licks his lips, watching as Caleb’s gaze latches onto your bare breasts. “Fuck,” he groans, leaning closer, eyes roving over every inch of your chest. “What the fuck– pretty, pretty fucking tits, baby.”

“Thank you,” you hum, arching your back teasingly, pushing your breasts up into his face just enough so that one of your hardened nipples grazes his lips. Caleb’s tongue darts out before you can stop him, a sharp, strangled noise escaping you when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, tongue swirling around your nipple and areola. 

You whine, fingers slipping back into his hair, hips bucking up in desperation. Caleb groans against your breast, his hand coming up to play with your other nipple. He rolls the hardened bud between his fingers, pinching lightly before tugging. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he opens his mouth wider, trying to suck your breast in further.

“You’re so soft,” Caleb mumbles around your breast, tongue swirling around the fat of it before he lets go, watching as your breast gently sways back into place. “Cute,” he murmurs absentmindedly, gripping your hip when you try to arch away, nipping at the side of your breast. “C’mon, stay still for me, pipsqueak.”

“Don’t– ah!” you glare at him when he bites harder, gaze flitting down to find the imprint of his teeth etched into your skin. “Don’t call me pipsqueak while you’re sucking my tits, jerk.”

“Why?” he asks, pouting as he swirls his tongue over your other breast, nuzzling into the fat of it contentedly. 

You let out a muffled moan when he suddenly rocks his hips into you, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders when the bulge in his sweatpants rubs against your clothed cunt. 

“Because it’s– nghh– it’s a turn off!”

“I don’t know…,” Caleb trails off, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting go of it a few moments later with a muted pop. “Kinda seems like you enjoy it, pipsqueak.”

“How would you know that?” you breathe out, trying to squeeze your thighs shut so he doesn’t see the way you’ve begun to soak through your panties and shorts, knees pressing together awkwardly.

He huffs out a laugh, pressing soft kisses to your breasts, biting gently at your nipples, his teeth digging in just enough for it to be painful before he soothes it with his tongue. You glare up at him when he leans back, sitting on his knees, his brows raising as he watches you worm your hand between your thighs to hide the damp spot. 

“You’re making this too easy for me,” Caleb muses, catching your ankle when you try to kick at his chest, his lips brushing across your foot in a fleeting kiss.

“Yeah?” you scoff, trying and failing to appear unaffected when his calloused hand slides over your calf, shuddering when his lips press against your knee.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you murmur, pursing your lips. Tugging your leg free, you rise up onto your knees, pushing at his chest until he falls onto his back. Caleb grunts as you crawl up onto his lap, his hands settling on your waist as you rock your hips, grinding against his clothed cock.

“What are you doing?” Caleb grumbles, his head tipping back when your lips latch onto his neck. 

You don’t bother answering, busying yourself with scraping your teeth against his neck, relishing in the sharp, little bursts of air that leave him. Your fingers find his pecs, squeezing hard enough to have Caleb letting out a loud moan, his hips bucking and cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

“Sounded like you wanted a challenge,” you whisper, biting his earlobe. A smile spreads across your face when he whimpers, your teeth sinking into your lower lips as you grind your hips down harder, eyes fluttering shut when you drag your clothed pussy over the length of his hardening cock.

“What I– shit– want,” Caleb stutters, his fingers flexing around your hips when you bite at his pec, “is to kiss that wet, little cunt. You gonna let me do that, sweetheart?”

Your throat dries at his words, lashes fluttering against his skin. No one’s ever offered to eat you out before, and coming from Caleb… it sounds oddly charming. You peer up at him, mid-bite into his pec, tongue flicking against his skin before you pull back.

“Only if you beg,” you murmur, pecking his lips. 

Caleb grins at you ferally, his thumb swiping over your lower lip before he pushes it past your lips, pressing down on your thumb. You whine softly at the intrusion, lips sealing around his thumb as you suck, tongue swirling around his thumb, head bobbing lazily.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he breathes out, slipping his other hand between your thighs, watching as your eyes roll back. Caleb grinds his palm into your clothed cunt, his own eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he feels the weight of you press down against his throbbing cock.

“Well, you haven’t so–”

“Please,” he interrupts, tugging his thumb free from your mouth. He sits up, pulling you further into his lap, nose nudging against yours. “Please let me kiss your pussy, sweetheart. Hm?”

Your heart thuds violently in response, staring up into his eyes as he leans closer. Caleb kisses you, slower this time, his lips lingering against yours. “Please,” he whispers again, slipping his fingers past the waistband when he sees you’re distracted, his fingers finding your swollen clit. “I know you want it, know you want me to kiss that aching little cunt. I’ll do it, fuck–” an irritated snarl leaves him, “fuck, fuck, fuck– c’mon baby, please?”

Caleb sounds sweet when he begs. There’s a soft, breathy tone to his words, an earnestness that makes his purple eyes shine in a way that you’d only ever seen when he’d flown. His voice leaves you feeling dazed, fingers tracing over his chest, pressing his dog tags into his chest. His heart beats violently, the vibrations travelling through the metal until you can feel the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. 

“You sound awfully desperate,” you say, fingers hooking into the silver chain around his neck. 

Caleb groans, his head falling forward to slump onto your shoulder, hands sliding over your waist and hips. “You like humiliating me or something?” he grumbles, his fingers circling your clit, drawing a muted whimper from you. “I begged, now let me eat your pussy.”

He sounds a little too sulky and you bite back a smile, instead leaning forward to press a quick kiss to cheek. You tell yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. 

“Fine, fine,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by his request. You wiggle back, slumping against his pillows. Pulling your shorts down, you toss them at Caleb whose grip tightens on the fabric before it slackens when he sees your utterly ruined panties. 

“Keep ‘em on,” he says hoarsely, running a hand through his hair. 

You smile, spreading your thighs a little wider in invitation. “All yours, Captain.”

A broken noise leaves Caleb, his hand dragging over his flushed face. You’re distracted by the flex of his shoulder blades as he crawls closer, settling between your thighs, his hands running over your skin. 

“Have you done this with anyone else down at base?” Caleb murmurs, his lips soft against your inner thighs as he peppers kisses all over.

“Had sex?” you sigh, fingers running through his soft hair. “Not exactly.” Your hips lift when he buries his face into your panties, his nose pressing up against your clothed clit as he breathes you in with a groan. “I did– ah– did make-out with a couple of guys.”

Caleb pauses his ministrations and you glance down to find him narrowing his eyes up at you. 

“Name and rank.”

You huff out a soft laugh, rolling your hips up to get him to press his face back into your panties. Caleb clicks his tongue, his hand pressing against your stomach to stop you from moving. 

“Name and rank,” he demands, voice hardening.

“Are you jealous?” you drawl, miffed by the fact that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh, fingers wrapping around your wrist when you try and rub at your clothed pussy yourself. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Name and rank, sweetheart or I’ll edge you ‘til you cry.”

An irritated noise leaves you, and you grumble out a few names and their respective ranks begrudgingly. “Have you done this with anyone else?” you ask pointedly when he buries his face back into panties to breathe you in again, “should I be asking for name and rank?”

Caleb hums, letting his tongue drag over your drenched panties slowly. “I haven’t.”

“That’s– ah– that’s what I–” you pause when you realize what he’s said. “You haven’t? With anyone?”

“Keep up,” Caleb murmurs, lapping at your clothed cunt, his saliva beginning to cling to the fabric of your panties, “I haven’t fucked anyone down at base.”

“Fingered?” you breathe out, a soft moan escaping you when he tugs your panties up to watch them press against your puffy folds, his tongue sliding through them, managing to squirm in close enough to flick against your clothed clit. “Kissed?”

“No,” he mumbles into your panties, scraping his teeth against the fabric before pressing a sloppy kiss to your hip.

“B– but I thought–”

“Couldn’t think about fucking anyone else when you were talking my ear off, pipsqueak.”

You tug at his hair roughly in retaliation, and Caleb grunts, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. He smiles when he sees your glare, rising up to kiss you, his tongue tangling with yours until you can taste yourself. 

“Didn’t want to fuck anyone else,” he says, stealing another kiss from you before settling between your thighs again. “Not when you were the only one making me hard.”

“Romantic,” you say breathlessly, hips lifting for him when his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties.

Caleb hums, a low noise leaving him when he sees the way your slick clings to your panties, his head falling against your thigh to just… stare at your pussy. Your legs twitch as you wait, directing your gaze to the ceiling awkwardly as he continues to stare.

“Stop staring!” you finally sputter out when he nuzzles into your thigh.

“I want to,” Caleb replies, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he lets his gaze travel over your slick skin and puffy folds. “‘s cute,” he sighs, “and pretty… cute, little pussy, sweetheart.”

You flush at his words, shuddering when his lips finally meet your bare, sensitive skin, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue slides through your folds. Caleb lets out a guttural noise, thumbing apart your folds with a restrained sort of frenzy before he’s burying his face into your cunt.

A squeal escapes you, fingers flying to his hair when he latches onto your clit, his tongue swirling around the swollen, aching bud. 

“Fuck,” Caleb snarls into your pussy, pushing your knees towards your chest, laving his tongue over your pussy. “Spent all that time fighting when I could’ve been doing this the whole time.”

You moan loudly, legs jerking when he spits, smearing it onto your throbbing pussy. It’s sloppy, the way he latches on again, slurping at your slick noisily before he’s burying his tongue into your fluttering hole. 

“Slow– nghh! Slow down, Caleb!” you whine, already feeling the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten.

You only get a growl in response, the sound going straight to the ache in your cunt, thighs tightening around his head. Caleb grunts when he feels the sheer pressure, prying apart your thighs with a strength that’s enough to have you moaning again.

“Be good, baby,” he rasps, “and let me take care of you.”

He’s stuffing his tongue back into you again, fucking it in and out at a pace that has you seeing stars. You think you might be close to yanking his hair right out of his scalp, your knuckles white when his fingers slip over your clit, rubbing tight circles over the swollen bud.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, toes curling against his broad back, “oh fuck, oh fuck– oh fuck–”

You can feel him smile against you, a strangled noise escaping you when he replaces his tongue with his fingers instead. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how easy it is for Caleb to push two fingers inside.

“Good girl,” he croons, pressing a soft kiss to your clit, “look at you, taking me so well. Good fucking girl, all for me.”

Caleb crooks his fingers, and you whimper, fingers clawing at the sheets until he decides to move his other hand to your stomach, pressing down. A squeal erupts from you, your cheeks flushed, sweat clinging to your skin, the pressure of his hand enough to have your thighs shaking.

“C– Caleb!” you squeak, thrashing under him, “that– ah– that feels–”

“Good, yeah?” Caleb whispers, his tongue slipping through your folds again as he fucks his fingers into you roughly. He clicks his tongue when you start to squeeze your thighs around his head again. “I told you to be– hey,” his voice softens into something low and smooth, like syrup seeping into the crevices of your mind. “Look at me, baby.”

You blink down at him blearily, hazy eyes following as he dips his head to kiss your clit. 

“I told you to be good,” he finishes, working his fingers in lazily, slowing his pace until you’re rolling your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his lithe digits. He drops another kiss on your clit, tongue laving over your puffy folds again. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl, sweetheart.”

He has the audacity to sound disappointed and you whine, hiding your face in his pillows so he can’t see how your cheeks burn. “I–” a soft, petulant huff escapes you, “I am being good.”

Caleb laughs, and you burn hotter, irritated by the fact that he’s managed to whittle you down into a mess that craves his praise. 

“Okay,” he soothes, his fingers sliding over your breasts, squeezing gently before he reaches out, gripping your jaw to bring you out of your hiding place. “You are, baby,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, “but I need you to stop crushing my head. Can you do that for me?”

Caleb has never spoken to you like this. It has you preening, gaze flitting away when he kisses your cheek, heart fluttering in your chest uncontrollably. You settle on nodding jerkily, back arching when he quickens the pace of his fingers, breasts squishing against his chest.

“Good girl,” Caleb murmurs, his lips slotting over yours, hot and heavy as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. “Taking my fingers so well, yeah?”

You whine, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him down for another desperate kiss. Caleb grunts into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your hip. You can feel how hard he is, his clothed cock rubbing against your thigh as he fingers you roughly. There’s spit leaking from the corners of your mouth and Caleb’s licking it up, feeding it back to you with a broken moan.

It’s filthy, the way he touches and plays with you, letting his tongue slide against yours with sinful strokes, his fingers pressing up against the spot where you need him most. His free hand slips up towards your chest and you grumble when he stops kissing you in favor of sucking a breast into his mouth, letting his teeth tug at an aching nipple. 

“Fuck,” you mewl, digging your fingers into his shoulders. His dog tags clink against your own, the chains tangling together for a moment. You arch further when his tongue swirls and flicks against your areola, watching as he drools against your skin, his half-lidded eyes finding yours. “‘m gonna cum,” you breathe out dazedly, head tilting when he kisses your neck. “Caleb– Caleb, ‘m gonna cum.” 

You try to kiss him, but he’s already gone, burying his tongue between your folds again. You cry out, tugging at his hair and Caleb groans loudly, grinding his hips into the sheets as he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your feet slide across his back, toes curling when he scrapes his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Cum,” Caleb rasps, glancing up at you as your back bows, “cum on my tongue, baby. Cum for me.”

And you do, somehow propping yourself onto your palms as your thighs twitch violently, fingers moving to clench Caleb’s hair tightly. The dog tags between your breasts clink as you shudder, your hand slapping against the sheets when Caleb thrusts his fingers into you one final time. 

You fall back against his pillows, feeling loose-limbed and numb, curling against the sheets. Caleb follows eagerly, his lips drifting over the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, until he’s nuzzling into your cheek.

“I did a pretty good job, didn’t I?” he announces smugly and you grouse, shoving his face away. 

“Shut up,” you manage out, voice hoarse from moaning, thighs and legs still trembling from the force of your orgasm.

He sighs, pressing himself against your back. You fight the urge to curl into him, head tilting just enough to let Caleb bury his face into the crook of your neck. His arms are wrapping around your waist, holding you tighter. The silence is strangely comforting – until Caleb decides to open his big mouth again. 

“Really wanna watch you ride my cock.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you retort, moving onto your back when he gets out of bed. You watch lazily as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down along with his boxers. Your brows raise at the sight of his cock, head tilting to get a better look. “I get why you’re so insufferable now,” you sigh, sitting up, “must be hard walking around with that.”

“You like it?” Caleb murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut when he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking slowly.

“Mhm,” you shift onto your knees, crawling towards the edge of the bed. 

Caleb’s cock is… big, to say the least. You watch with rapt attention as he fists his cock, the emptiness between your thighs becoming hard to ignore when you see the pre-cum beading at the head of his cock. The tip is flushed prettily, and you lick your lips, following the length of a prominent vein down his thick cock, gaze settling on his heavy balls. 

There’s drool pooling in your mouth and a soft whine leaves you before you lean forward, kissing the head of his cock. Caleb’s hips jerk, not expecting the contact, his eyes snapping open to watch you take the head of his cock into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he breathes out, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “fuck, baby. You like my fat cock?”

You roll your eyes, swirling your tongue around the hot head, sucking lazily before pulling off with a pop. “Yes, Caleb,” you murmur exasperatedly, nuzzling into his hip, “I like your fat cock.”

“That didn’t sound sincere,” Caleb pouts, his hand cradling your head as you trail kisses over his abdomen. 

“No?” you whisper, shifting back towards his cock. You rub your cheek against his cock, kissing the tip of it once more, head tilting until his cock rests on your cheek. “How about now?”

“You’re filthy,” he groans, grasping his cock, rubbing the tip of it against your lips, smearing pre-cum all over.

You hum, licking your lips contentedly, tongue sticking out playfully after. Caleb’s chest heaves when he sees the pink of your tongue, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“C’mere,” he rasps, pulling you closer. You whine when he slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, trying to suck it back into your mouth only for Caleb to push at your forehead gently. “Take it,” he goads, thumb rubbing over your tongue before he’s slapping the tip of his cock against your tongue once more. “Fuck– look at that… good fucking girl, pretty fuckin’ girl, hm?”

“Need it,” you whisper, thighs squeezing together when you feel your pussy ache, “Caleb, need your cock.”

He grins down at you, purple eyes glinting. “Only if you beg for it, baby.”

Your expression falls. “What?”

“You heard me,” Caleb smirks, cupping your jaw to pull you into a breathless kiss. “Fair’s fair, sweetheart. Now c’mon, beg for my cock and I’ll give it to you.”

Glaring up at him, you try to reach for his cock, but he’s laughing and stepping back out of your reach, stroking himself. It’s humiliating, and your cheeks are hot with embarrassment despite the fact you’d had your mouth wrapped around his cock only moments earlier. Lips pursing, you squirm on his sheets, averting your gaze.

“Please,” you say quietly, “please– please? Wanna feel your cock, Caleb.”

“You’re cute, baby,” Caleb whispers, his hand cupping your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “But I know you can do better.”

You whine involuntarily when you hear the disappointment tinging his tone, squirming closer when his thumb brushes over your lips. “Please,” you mewl, sucking his thumb into your mouth, inhibitions forgotten as Caleb strokes his hand over your soothingly. “‘m so empty, wanna feel you all the way in here,” you point to your stomach, “wanna feel your fat, thick cock, Caleb.” Your tongue swirls around his thumb, teeth digging into the tip of it. “‘m gonna ride it so good,” you say breathily, lashes fluttering. 

It seems to wear him down. You don’t even know where the words are coming from at this point, the heady fog of lust having settled heavily over your mind. You bite down on his thumb harder, relishing in the hiss of pain he lets out. Still, he doesn’t move and you narrow your eyes up at him, Caleb returning your expression when he spies the defiant brattiness in your expression.

“Baby–”

“I’ll let you cum inside.”

Caleb’s eyes widen, his jaw slackening. You blink up at him, nodding towards the bed. He goes willingly and you’re crawling up onto his lap, letting out a soft moan as you rub your pussy against the length of his cock.

“And to think you were concerned about fraternizing,” Caleb rasps, his hands smoothing over your waist and hips as you grind along his length, shuddering when the tip of his cock catches against your swollen clit.

You smile, head tipping back when his hand smoothes over your stomach, squeezing at your breasts before his fingers wrap around your throat loosely.

“That was before you put your mouth on me,” you murmur, hands landing on his thick pecs.

“Yeah?” he says, his head tilting as he watches the sway of your hips, the soft jingle of your dog tags between your breasts. “Always wanted you like this, baby.”

You peer down at him, movements pausing. “Do you mean that?” 

Caleb nods, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “Thought about kissing you when you were looking at the eval sheet… figured you’d freak out.”

“Then why be such an asshole?” you prod, hitting his chest lightly. “I don’t get it.”

“Because you hated me,” Caleb retorts, his brows furrowing, “you said it yourself. Besides,” he trails off, looking away, “I liked the challenge. When I saw you fly your jet, I knew I finally had some competition.” He props himself onto his elbows, leaning forward to kiss you slowly, his grip on your throat tightening. “Then you kept bruising my ego,” he whispers against your lips, “I couldn’t have that.”

You kiss him harder, fingers wrapping around his cock, rising up onto your knees. Caleb moans into your mouth when you start to sink down on him, his fingers flexing around your throat before he decides to let go in favor of grasping your hips. Nails digging into his chest, you whimper at the feeling of his cock stretching you out, shifting a little as your pussy flutters around his cock in an attempt to accommodate his size. 

“Shit,” Caleb rasps, watching dazedly as you sink down lower, taking his cock to the hilt. “Taking me so fucking good, baby.”

His cock twitches, the fingers on your hip squeezing tighter as he shifts beneath you. You stare at him with half-lidded eyes, feet wiggling a little before you’re lifting your hips and letting them drop back down. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, hands stroking over your waist, “that’s it, baby. Ride my cock– shit– just like that, yeah?”

Caleb moans and you whine with him, holding onto his chest tighter, eyes rolling back at how good it feels to be stuffed full by him. His fingers are slipping to your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively before he’s prying you apart, the action enough to have you flushing as you rise and fall on his cock.

“Pretty,” Caleb grunts, helping you guide your pace, letting you roll your hips needily. “You– hah– look so pretty like this sweetheart.”

A soft keen slips out of you, jaw feeling heavy. You need to feel him closer. Pawing at his chest, you whine again, head dipping to dig your teeth into his pec, drooling against his skin. Caleb growls, his hips bucking to meet your ass as you sway your hips back.

“Caleb,” you mewl, latching onto his other pec, biting down hard into his flesh to leave a mark. “Feels– nghhh– s’good.”

All you get is a broken moan in response, Caleb’s hands drifting all over you as though unable to touch you enough. You nip at his throat while you bounce on his cock, leaning back to watch his head tip back. He looks nice like this, all uninhibited and moaning and groaning like you’re pulling him apart by just riding his cock.

You smile faintly, quickening your pace, widening your knees to set a firmer base before you’re dropping down on his cock while Caleb slurs something out unintelligibly, completely and utterly pussy-drunk. Still, he had promised you something earlier.

Fingers slipping over his jaw, you hold him in place, still rocking your hips while your hand makes contact with his cheek. Caleb’s eyes snap open, his cheek reddening under the impact, a guttural groan leaving him. 

“You’re enjoying this,” you whisper, kissing his cheek, “aren’t you?”

“Stupid fuck– question,” Caleb slurs, pulling you closer, hugging you to his chest. You yelp in protest, feeling yourself be jostled as he plants his feet onto the bed, bending his knees before he’s fucking up into you without abandon.

You manage to squirm just enough to find his eyes, irritation sparking in them, but he’s pulling you down, lips pressing against yours as he kisses you sloppily, tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

“Slap me,” he murmurs finally, “get it all out, baby.”

It’s a struggle to think straight when he’s driving his cock into you like this, hard and fast. You whimper, managing to prop yourself up onto a palm, pussy clenching around his fat cock as he fucks up into you. But you need this, need to get whatever remnants of anger are lingering inside and so you slap him over and over again, watching as his eyes flutter shut and his cock throbs inside of you, his fingers digging into your ass.

“Fuck,” Caleb snarls, his head tipping back before he’s offering up his other cheek. You blink down at him, huffing out a soft, hoarse laugh, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss his cheek instead.

“Didn’t know– ahh– you were a pain-slut,” you whisper teasingly, breasts squishing against his chest as you nuzzle into his cheek, teeth dragging along his skin.

“Helps remind me I’m with you,” he murmurs, offering his neck to you, “wouldn’t let anyone hah fuck– else slap me around.”

“Just me?” you whisper, tugging at his hair, teeth sinking into his neck. Caleb shudders and you hum, tongue dragging over the length of his neck, fingers prying his mouth open before you’re spitting into his mouth, lapping at his lips.

He swallows almost immediately and your eyes light up, tongue lolling out to do it again. A shriek sounds when he’s suddenly flipping you over, shoving you into his bed, his cock slipping out for a brief moment before he’s sinking it back into you.

You squeal, nails dragging down his back, staring up at him with wide eyes as he pushes your legs apart, hands hooking under your knees as he holds you down. He’s dropping his weight down and an involuntary coo slips out of you, head tilting when he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Baby,” Caleb groans, his hips snapping into you, “baby, baby– squeezing me so tight– fuck!”

“I– I can’t!” you hiccup, hands scrabbling at his shoulders when Caleb drives his hips into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass, his bedroom filled by the lewd sounds of his body against yours. “Caleb– ah!”

“You can,” he snaps, his hands slipping lower to grip your hips, “you are, baby– fucking made to take this fat fuckin’ cock.”

You scrape your nails down his broad back, toes curling and head tossed back as you cry out. His hand presses down on your stomach and you jerk, a hoarse squeal ripping its way out of your throat. You try and curl away, but you can’t, not with the way he’s pinning you down and fucking the thoughts out of your head, pounding into you so deeply that there’s tears beading at your lashes, pussy clenching around his cock desperately.

The coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter and you can’t breathe, writhing under him and whimpering and whining until Caleb’s fingers find your clit, circling the swollen and slick bud. 

“Cum,” Caleb grunts, pulling back to watch the wanton expression on your face, his lips pressing against your cheek gently. “Cum, baby,” he whispers, his voice softer, “wanna watch you fall apart all pretty on my cock.”

You grab for him blindly, tugging at his chain until his lips slot over yours, your heart fluttering at the kiss. Thighs shaking, you cum with a sharp gasp, pussy fluttering around his cock uncontrollably while he groans into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your hip. Caleb isn’t that far behind, his hips thrusting forward unevenly before he whimpers, burying himself inside of you.

His cock twitches and throbs, hot, thick cum spilling inside of you. You let out a tired mewl as Caleb pants against your cheek, his lips dragging over your jaw to give you a clumsy kiss, rolling off of you before long.

You squeak when you go with him, trying to pull away only to find that your dog tags have somehow managed to get tangled together. 

“You could just ask to cuddle,” Caleb quips, smiling when you roll your eyes.

It takes a bit of work and concentration – Caleb steals kisses from you every now and then – but you work your fingers through and untangle the chains, arms wrapping around his neck loosely. You squirm closer quietly, thighs squeezing together when you feel his cum leaking out of you.

Your eyes flutter shut when Caleb runs his fingers through your hair, his arm pulling you closer to kiss your cheek.

“Stay the night.”

You trace your fingers over his chest, feeling warm and sated. Caleb whispers his request again, his thumb stroking over your cheek and you hum, stretching against him lazily. 

“I don’t know…,” you sigh, biting back a smile when his expression falls. 

“I hate you,” Caleb grouses when he sees your smile, although he tugs you closer when you laugh against his cheek, letting you pepper kisses over his warm skin.

“Yeah,” your voice softens, fingers pushing his hair out of his eyes. You kiss him gently. “I hate you too.”

–

You wake up to sunlight streaming through the curtains.

A yawn leaves you, and you rub at your eyes, ridding them of the lingering remnants of sleep. Glancing down, you find yourself clad in a pair of Caleb’s boxers and an oversized hoodie of his hanging off your frame.

He’s nowhere to be seen, so you crawl out of bed, taking the time to examine all the trophies and awards stacked onto multiple shelves on one side of his room. You allow yourself to feel begrudgingly impressed, fingers trailing over a photo frame of him grinning with Gideon, their jets in the background.

Unable to help yourself, you snoop a little more, perusing his book shelf. The corner of a photo peaks out from what looks like a book hastily shoved back into place and you glance at the door of his bedroom for a moment before tugging the book free. 

When the pages fall open, your brows furrow when you find a photo of someone none other than yourself. You’re laughing with someone, although they’re cropped out, your eyes bright with amusement and hair loose, free from the usual, required bun. Your heart stutters when another photo falls out, finding yourself pictured candidly once more.

You glance towards the door again, flipping through the other pages, disappointment flickering across your expression when you don’t find any others. Quickly tucking the photos back into the book, you place it back into its original place, padding out into the kitchen. 

Caleb stands over the stove, shirtless and in his sweatpants, cooking sausages. There’s reddish marks streaking down his broad back, courtesy of your nails from yesterday. You raise your brows when you see the breakfast spread, taking a bite out of a jam-covered slice of toast.

“I wasn’t expecting breakfast,” you announce, hopping up onto the kitchen counter, legs swaying lazily.

“Morning,” Caleb offers, glancing at you over his shoulder. He shrugs, flipping the sausages with a spatula. “I wanted to.”

You hum, gaze travelling over the dip of his waist, teeth sinking into your lower lip. It’s unfair, really, how attractive he is, even like this, hair messy and all marked up. Your recent discovery has you feeling curious so you lean forward, letting out an airy sigh. 

“I didn’t know you liked taking photos.”

Caleb loses his grip on the spatula, muttering out a soft curse. You smile at him when he turns around, head tilting in feigned innocence. 

“They were cute,” you muse when he flushes, “and kinda creepy. Didn’t know you were a perv, Caleb.”

“I’m not,” Caleb denies, although the tips of his ears seem to disagree with how prettily they’ve blushed. “I just–” He covers his face with his hand, looking away, “you looked pretty and I… couldn’t help myself.”

You hop off the counter, padding towards him, arms wrapping around his neck. “Who knew?” you drawl, pressing your lips against his. “Caleb Xia is a huge dork.”

Caleb groans, his hands petting at your waist as he pulls you closer, the stove forgotten. You arch into him when he squeezes your ass, rocking up onto the tips of your toes when he licks into your mouth, fingers slipping into his soft, brown hair.

“Hungry?” he mumbles, his hands sliding under the hoodie you’re wearing, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. 

“Not really,” you breathe out, your hand dragging over his firm chest, down his abdomen and past his sweatpants, curling around his hot, half-hard cock that throbs in your palm. “Stove’s on.”

Caleb moans into your mouth softly, reaching behind blindly to turn off the stove. You return his feverish kisses with an eagerness of your own, stroking his thick cock lazily.

“Baby,” Caleb whispers, his head falling forward as he pants into the crook of your neck, his fingers flexing around your hips, “baby, fuck–”

You spy his phone on the nearby dining table, kissing his cheek gently before you pull away. Caleb grunts in protest, his grip loosening as you squirm away to pick up his phone. You shouldn’t be doing this, the rational part of your mind reminds you, you really shouldn’t be doing this. 

But this is Caleb, the other… more debauched part of your mind offers – annoying, insufferable Caleb who kissed the shit out of you and let you slap him while you rode his cock. Caleb, who maybe isn’t so insufferable anymore and has somehow managed to get his foot in the door to your heart. Caleb, who – you’re realizing – you want all to yourself. 

Caleb, who looks at you like you’re the only thing he really sees.

You toss his phone at him, hooking your fingers under the hoodie, tugging it up so he can see your tits, nipples hardened, the soft flesh imprinted with his teeth and your dog tags hanging between your breasts prettily. 

“Wanna take some more pictures?”

There’s a hoarse groan leaving him, his hand pressing against his clothed cock as he stares at you with half-lidded eyes. You smile up at him when he strides towards you, fingers dragging down his chest teasingly. Caleb catches your hand, his fingers lacing with yours tightly. Your nose brushes against his when he dips his head, his voice soft.