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part 1 | part 2 (but can be read as a stand alone)
he wasn’t supposed to find it.
one bored scroll through your phone and suddenly geto was staring at your endless stack of bookmarked twitter porn—eyes wide, heat creeping up his neck.
when he asks to recreate it outright?
you nearly explode.
geto pulls you in so fast you forget you didn’t mark the page of the book in front of you, his lips already on yours. he’s so smooth with it—one hand gripping your waist, the other gently setting the novel on the nightstand without breaking the kiss.
your head spins so fast you almost miss the way his hands settle on your waist, warm and steady. his mouth moves against yours with a quiet kind of urgency, like he’s been waiting for you to crack open just like this.
you clutch at his shirt, trying to pull back even as your body leans into him. the heat in your face is unbearable and you’re pretty sure you’re actually shaking.
he feels it. of course he does. and he only holds you tighter.
geto knows your body language too well. you want something as much as him yet you’re too shy to ask.
the thought goes straight to his stomach.
you break the kiss with a tiny, broken sound you didn’t mean to make. it slips out before you can stop it, and you freeze immediately.
his lips brush your cheek as he breathes out a laugh—a rare one that sounds…fond.
“so cute.”
the words make you want to bury yourself under your blankets.
“d–don’t…”
he kisses the corner of your mouth once, slow, like he’s trying to coax the rest of your sentence out. “don’t what?”
“…say it like that,” you whine softly. “it’s embarrassing.”
his nose nudges yours, breath warm and steady while yours is uneven and shaky. “you’re the one whose secretly a freak,” he grins, “not me.”
mortification drowns you.
your phone is still playing porn in the background, muffled but unmistakable. the sound hits you too late—another layer of humiliation stacking on your chest until you can barely breathe.
you squeeze your eyes shut. “suguru—please— you- it’s too—”
“too what?”
he’s not even pretending he doesn’t know what you mean. his voice is steady, smooth, like he’s discussing something casual and not the absolute meltdown happening in your chest.
you shake your head, face burning. “this is so embarrassing—”
his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. “mm. you keep saying that.” his tone is maddeningly gentle and that calm, low warmth that makes everything worse.
you flinch when his lips skim your jaw again, barely a brush—like he’s testing how sensitive you are. how easy you unravel.
then, in that soft voice that makes your stomach flip,
“...so that’s what you like, huh?”
he says it like he’s asking about a movie.
your face burns. “i—i don’t— it’s just— sometimes—”
his hand slides up your waist, fingers squeezing just a little, like he can’t help himself. like your embarrassment is doing something to him he’s trying very, very hard not to show.
“sometimes what?” his lips ghost your ear. “sometimes you get worked up? you touch yourself watching porn?”
a tiny humiliating sound slips out.
his breath stutters. almost nothing. but you’re close enough to feel it. now you know he’s trying to stay calm and only pretending he’s unaffected.
your phone keeps playing—soft moans—only making everything hotter and more unbearable.
his voice drops, rough at the edges.
“did you think about me when you watched it?”
your whole body seizes. “s-suguru—!”
“tell me.”
when you hesitate, he cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek like he’s soothing you through your own embarrassment.
“did you?” he asks again. quieter. needier.
a beat passes before the answer falls from your lips. “i- i mean…yeah…”
the second it leaves your mouth, you wish you could shove it back in. hide. melt. die.
but suguru goes still.
then he exhales—shaky. no call left.
“good.”
before you can react, your back hits the pillows. he follows, caging you in. his hair falls around your face, his breath trembling against your cheek.
“god—” he mutters, like he didn’t mean for it to slip out.
your eyes go wide. “suguru?”
he doesn’t answer.
he just looks at you—really looks—like he’s trying to make sense of the fact that you’re here beneath him, realizing you just admitted thinking about him while touching yourself.
his exhale is low, a shaky sound that lands straight in your stomach.
“you said it,” he murmurs. “you actually said it.”
his hand drags up your thigh, slow and deliberate. you try to hide your face, but he catches your wrists, pinning them gently beside your head.
“no hiding,” he breathes. “not after that.”
his mouth drags along your jaw, slow, almost tender. it’s so at odds with the way his breathing is rough against your skin. his hands slip from your wrists, but only so they can trail down, gliding over your sides, your waist, then lower…
his fingers hook into the hem of your pants.
“don’t look away while i take these off.”
“w–wait—”
“no.” calm voice, frayed edges. “you’ve been hiding from me. hiding how bad you get. hiding what you watch.”
he tugs—not rough, not yet, just impatient.
“you don’t get to hide now.”
your thighs clamp together on instinct, and his eyes drop immediately, darkening.
“be a good girl and let me see,” he murmurs.
when you shake your head embarrassed, he adds urgently, “let me see you. please.”
your thighs part—barely. but it’s enough.
his breath stutters, forehead dipping to yours. “good girl…” it breaks in his throat. “now lift your hips.”
your body reacts before your mind does. that’s all he needs.
he pulls your bottoms down in one smooth, desperate motion.
“fuck—” the word rips out of him.
you scramble to tug your shirt lower, to cover yourself, but he catches your wrist mid movement, grip tight enough that you feel the tremble in his fingers.
“i told you not to hide,” he mutters.
the urgency in his voice hits straight through you—hot and dizzying.
your thighs snap together again, but his warm hands slip between them, pressing the inside of your knees until they fall open.
and then he sees.
your cotton panties, clinging and nearly translucent with how wet you are, the damp patch spread wide, and the outline of everything beneath it.
suguru goes perfectly still. wrecked if he wasn’t already.
“oh…” he breathes, voice dropping, thinning, like the sight knocks the air out of him.
you try to snap your legs shut again, panic spiking, but he catches your thighs—fingers digging in just enough to stop you—and he shakes his head once, slow, almost disbelieving.
“no,” he whispers, eyes locked on the soaked fabric like he can’t look anywhere else.
your face burns and you whine. “suguru stop staring—”
he exhales sharply, the sound strained, like he’s fighting the urge to just tear the last layer off.
“sweetheart…” his voice cracks on the endearment. “you’re soaked.”
your hips jolt at the word, and he notices instantly. his breath stutters, eyes darkening further.
“is this from just kissing?”
his fingers trace the edge of the wet patch, not touching where you’re desperate, but close—so close it feels cruel.
“or from me finding your porn?”
“sh-shut up…” you answer uselessly.
“no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, the heat of him covering you. “i’m asking.”
his thumb presses against the soaked cotton—barely any pressure, but enough to make your back arch off the bed.
your breath leaves you in a broken gasp, spine arching before you can stop it, the tiny press of his thumb sending a shock all the way through your stomach.
he feels it.
god, he feels it—your whole body jolting under him—and something raw flickers across his face.
“you’re really this sensitive, hm?”
you squeeze your eyes shut, humiliated, overwhelmed. “s-stop—don’t talk like—”
he presses again. right where your clit is. it’s enough to make your breath catch on a sob.
“like what?” he asks quietly, but it’s not calm anymore. it’s tight. desperate. “like i’m realizing how bad you want this?”
“suguru—”
“like i know you didn’t get this wet just from kissing?”
your hips—traitorous things—jerk, under his palm.
you want to deny it. you really do. but your body isn’t cooperating. at all. his eyes flick down, zeroing in on the soaked cotton stretched over your cunt.
“yeah,” he breathes, shaky, “that’s what i thought.”
then he sits back on his heels a little, enough to look at all of you properly.
“that video…” he starts, and his voice cracks on the edge, barely audible over the porn still playing. “tell me what you liked so much about it.”
“w-what?! no—”
“you can,” he insists, leaning in until your noses almost touch. “because i’m going to do it. all of it. but before i do i wanna know which part got you like this.”
his thumb presses into your clit and you gasp so hard he shuts his eyes and huffs for a second, like the sound punched him in the gut.
“fuck— was it when he…” his eyes drop again, breath hitching, “…grinded over her cute lil panties?”
you flinch visibly.
he swallows.
“hmm…” his other hand slides under your knee, pushing it out slightly, opening you more. “or was it when he kept teasing her until she was begging?”
your entire face lights on fire. “suguru—”
he grins slowly. “huh. i guess both.”
one hand goes to your hip. the other to your thigh. and then he slots his body between your legs, hot and heavy, lowering himself until the thick, rigid outline in his sweats presses against your soaked panties.
you choke out a sound you’ve never made before.
his jaw clenches.
suddenly, he pushes himself off you and onto the floor, standing only long enough to shove both his sweats and briefs down in one rough motion—impatient, too wound up to pretend not to be.
he’s painfully hard.
the sight of his flush cock finally freed makes your stomach twist, heat rushing between your legs so fast it’s embarrassing. you’ll never get used to how pretty he is.
you barely have time to gasp before his warm hands are on you—one at your waist, one under your knee—dragging you down the mattress until your hips meet the edge of the bed.
exactly like in the video.
“suguru—” you let out helplessly, legs falling open.
that’s when the porn still playing behind you lets out a sharp, slick sound.
his jaw tics again.
he reaches back, grabs your phone without looking, and shuts it off with a single click.
the silence that follows is too loud.
he throws your phone somewhere behind you on the bed and settles between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, the heat of him crowding into your space—until his cock brushes your soaked panties.
“only wanna hear you.”
you whimper.
he drags his tip along your mound—slow, thick pressure.
the head of him drags over your clit through the drenched cotton, and it’s exactly like the video…only worse. because this is him, this is real.
your panties are so drenched the fabric gives under the pressure, molding to his shape. every ridge, every vein, every careful shift of his hips is there—unmistakable even through the cotton.
your fingers clutch at his shoulders, knuckles white.
he feels that.
he likes that you can’t even pretend to stay composed.
his breath stirs over your cheek as he drags himself down the length of your cunt again—a long, deliberate stroke that pushes wet heat up the center of your panties, leaving a thin string of slick stretching when he rocks back.
you choke on a whimper.
he rolls his hips forward again, a little harder this time—enough that the fat tip of him, leaking with precum, nudges the exact spot that had the girl in the video shaking.
your back arches so sharply the pillows rustle behind you.
“mmh…there you go. lemme hear you.”
suguru pulls back only a few centimeters and drags forward again, a slow, grinding pressure right over your swollen clit, the soaked cotton squishing faintly between you.
your thighs quiver around his hips.
the worst part? he keeps the rhythm maddeningly even, like he’s timing each stroke to unravel you.
your panties cling to you, twisted crooked from how soaked they are. each grind pushes the fabric tighter between your folds, forcing slick to spill out around the edges and onto wheres he’s gripping your thighs open.
when the thick head of his cock catches on your entrance through the cotton, you make a strangled, broken sound.
you feel the drag, the pressure—how close he could be to slipping inside if it weren’t for the fabric in between.
he hears it.
he feels your legs jolt.
“look at you, baby…” he coos, “didn’t even need to use lube to get you this wet, huh? like in the video?”
that breaks you.
your mouth falls open in a moan you can’t manage to hold back.
“fuck— su-suguru!”
he grinds again, slower this time—circling his hips just enough to rub the heavy underside of his cock right over your clit again through the ruined fabric.
your whole body jolts.
then suguru’s stretching the fabric of your panties for a second before snapping them wetly against your cunt. he lowers more of his weight, breath unsteady against your mouth.
his hips roll again, a little sharper and a little less patient.
the head of him drags right over your entrance through the cotton, the pressure obscene, intimate, impossible to bear.
you suck in a breath, trembling violently, nails digging into his back.
he swallows hard and you watch the movement in his throat.
“mmh. yes. that’s it,” he murmurs, voice dropping, breath warm against your lips. “show me how bad you need it.”
he pulls back just enough for you to feel the loss…
then pushes forward again with a slow, grinding thrust, using his thumb on his cock to press himself against you so deeply that it drags the drenched cotton higher between your folds, baring more and more of you to him.
your panties barely cover anything now.
you’re practically riding the head of his cock through a soaked, twisted string of fabric without realizing it, completely gone.
and he knows it.
he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
his hips start moving faster—controlled, deliberate—but you feel the strain in the way his forehead drops to yours, his breath shaking across your lips. he wanted to stay composed. he wanted to tease you.
but now look at him.
“sweetheart…” his voice cracks, low and ragged. “you’re— fuck— soaking me through. i bet i could just fuck you now, huh? slip inside easy? you’re so damn wet.”
you whimper, barely managing, coherent thought gone replaced with him him him.
“please—”
the sound hits him so hard he goes still for a second, jaw flexing like he has to restrain himself.
“oh? you’re begging?”
before you can answer, he pulls your panties aside—finally slipping under them—his cockhead nudging directly against your bare, swollen entrance.
your breath stutters violently.
“oh— oh my god—”
his smirk is slow, hungry, unbearably confident. “i’m flattered, baby.”
your head falls back, face hot, “sh-shut up—!”
he drags forward again, the bare heat of him sliding right against you now under your panties—no barrier—just the thick, smooth pressure of him gliding along your cunt, parting you without even entering, smearing your folds with his precum.
you choke on a moan.
he closes his hand around your thigh, pulling you wider, guiding you exactly where he wants you.
“keep making those noises for me,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheek. “go on, sweetheart. let me hear you.”
the thin cotton of your panties stretches over the both of you, pulled tight and messy, clinging over his cock as he grinds under them with steady precision—it’s exactly like the porn video you know by heart.
and god.
it’s so much hotter than you imagined.
“shit…” he breathes, barely audible, his composure folding at the edges. “you’re dripping for me.”
your nails claw at his shoulders. “suguru— i c-can’t—”
“yeah, you can.”
his hand slides under your knee, lifting your leg higher so he can grind deeper, slower—letting the thick underside of his cock drag along your clit, then down, then up again in a sickeningly perfect stroke that has your stomach dropping.
your moan stutters out of you, high and unrestrained.
he exhales sharply—almost a curse, almost a groan—before catching your jaw gently, forcing your eyes to his.
“look at me,” he murmurs, teasingly soft. “don’t get shy now.”
you try. you fail. your eyelids flutter shut when his tip slips just a little too low, nudging your entrance again, catching…
he catches your chin.
“c’mon. eyes on me, sweetheart.”
you wrench them open.
the second you do, he rewards you with a slow, devastating roll of his hips that drags the head of him through your slick again.
he drags himself up through your slick again—slow enough to burn—pulling your panties with him so the soaked cotton presses tight around the thick base of his cock under the fabric.
the pressure, the heat, the bare glide of him under that flimsy, twisted strip of cotton? it makes you tremble everywhere.
“s-suguru— please—”
his jaw flexes again, breath shivering out like he’s barely holding back.
his cock drags up, catching your clit perfectly.
then suddenly he’s gone, pulling back from beneath your panties, the loss so abrupt it punches a whine out of you.
your hips lift helplessly, searching for him.
he catches them easily with both hands.
“easy,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you’re still trying to chase the friction when his fingers hook into your soaked panties. not pulling them off. just pulling the drenched cotton aside with a finger.
your breath stops.
the cool air hits your swollen folds for just a second before the bare heat of him is there, sliding in, his cockhead nudging through the new opening he’s made.
your voice cracks instantly.
“o-oh— god—”
he exhales through his nose, sharp and uneven, watching himself settle right against your dripping entrance.
“mm,” he hums, almost a groan. “there you are.”
he drags up once, slow, the glide so slick and obscene it leaves you trembling.
but he doesn’t push in.
he doesn’t even try.
he just grinds barely—the thick head of him catching on your entrance, circling it, nudging, teasing, retreating—repeating the exact unbearable rhythm you watched in that video.
your back arches, thighs shaking.
“ugh— please—i’m—”
“i know,” he cuts in, gentle yet cruel.
his thumb presses to the inside of your thigh, keeping you open, steadying you while he drags himself down again, slow enough that your slick clings in a thin, shining thread.
it snaps when he pulls back.
you whimper.
he inhales sharply—like the sound hits him too hard—before leaning over you, lips brushing your cheek as he whispers, “this is how they did it, right?”
another slow grind up, bare heat tracing your clit, slipping lower.
“just like this?”
he stops at your entrance, pressing there…but not entering.
just enough pressure to make you think he will.
you writhe.
a soft chuckle ghosts your ear.
“mm. that’s exactly why i’m not fucking you yet.”
your fingers clutch his shoulders, desperate. he draws the head of his cock back an inch then pushes forward again, directly against your dripping entrance, sliding over it, circling the tiniest bit, letting the blunt head tease the spot that had the girl in the video sighing.
you choke on a moan so high it embarrasses you.
his voice drops to a whisper so low it almost shakes.
“keep begging.”
another slow drag.
another near slip.
another denial.
“i’m gonna tease you worse than he teased her.”
“no!” you whine, so raw and genuine that he grins.
his cockhead circles your entrance again—slow, deliberate—the same exact pattern the man in the video used. your breath stutters, hips jerking up helplessly, and he catches it.
of course he does.
he lets out a low, breathless laugh against your cheek.
“yeah…that’s it.”
another lazy grind, catching your clit perfectly before dragging down over your entrance again.
“that’s why you saved that video, huh?”
you tense, fingers gripping his shoulders, “sugu—”
he shushes you softly, teasingly, nose brushing your temple.
“you like being teased,” he murmurs, voice dipping warm and deep. “you like being made to wait.”
your whole body goes hot.
“n-no! th-that’s not—!” your words come out embarrassingly high pitched and you shut your self up. or maybe he does it for you as his cock nudges your entrance again.
so close yet so far, making you clench around nothing.
he hums mockingly, “you bookmarked seven minutes of a girl getting edged through her panties. and that was your favorite. the only video you liked. don’t tell me it was an accident.”
you whine, the sound high and desperate.
he smiles—slow, hungry, knowing.
“you wanted me to find it,” he adds, breath fanning your lips.“you wanted me to tease you just like this.”
another grind, deeper this time—your entrance opening around the pressure.
“you love it.”
the admission falls from your mouth before you can stop it.
“fuck— y-yes—”
your thighs clamp around him automatically.
his smile sharpens the second your thighs clamp around him, like he’s been waiting for that exact reaction.
“yeah,” he breathes, voice dipping low, pleased. “i know.”
he grins.
his cock nudges you again, slow and intentional, the fat head sliding just barely between your folds—close enough to feel him, not close enough to satisfy, the way he knows drives you insane.
you jerk, hips trying to chase it, but he holds you down with a palm splayed over your stomach.
“easy,” he murmurs, tone dipping into something darker. “look at you. trying to ride it already.”
your mouth falls open at his words, heat pooling deeper in your core, another gush of arousal escaping you.
he pries your legs open again, not giving you any room to hide.
the way he pulls your panties to the side bares the swollen, slick edges of your entrance while he traps his cockhead right against you.
he looks down for one second and curses under his breath.
“…fuck.”
it’s almost silent, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
then he’s grinding again, slow, dragging pressure that pushes right over your clit before sliding down and catching your entrance again, your slick coating the underside of him in sticky, shining strings.
“you want it slow,” he whispers, sounding almost wrecked.
“you want it drawn out—”
his cock catches on your entrance again, not pushing in, just stroking over it…
“right here—”
another drag.
“over and over—”
your nails dig into his back, helpless. back arching,
toes curling, all you can do is beg. “p-please— suguru—“
he laughs softly. but it’s strained, shaky, like teasing you is unraveling him too.
“there it is,” he whispers. “but maybe i can’t do that.”
his cock twitches—an involuntary, hungry pulse—and your whole body jumps.
that finally breaks him.
his hips roll forward, slow but deliberate, and your entrance parts around him, the thick head pushing in just a breath—just enough to stretch you, just enough to make your vision blur.
your mouth falls open in a soundless cry.
his breath hits your neck, hot and uneven. “there you go… letting me in…”
another push—not deep, not even fully breaching you, just easing in and out of the tight, slick ring of your entrance, pushing a little farther each time, coating himself in more of your wetness.
“shit,” he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “you’re… ugh—clenching so hard.”
your hands slide to his shoulders, shaking. “fuck!”
he lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes dark, blown wide, the kind of desperate composure that’s somehow worse than raw need.
“you want more?” he breathes.
his cock rocks forward, sinking another inch into you—slow, stretching, obscene.
you choke out a moan, legs tightening around his waist.
he smiles, small and sharp and absolutely undone.
“open up for me,” he murmurs, voice low, deep, wrecked as he pushes in another inch, “take it.”
he pushes in slow further, unhurried, no stopping. only his thick cock spreading you open inch by inch while your breath stutters helplessly against his mouth.
your nails claw at his shoulders, not to push him away—just because your body can’t handle the feeling without holding onto something.
“oh—oh my god—” the words fall out before you can think, your voice shaking.
he groans at the sound—quiet, strained, almost like you’re knocking the air out of him.
“yeah…that’s it, baby.” he murmurs, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet. “take it. just take it.”
you’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing, trying to adjust but failing because he keeps pressing deeper.
your mind blanks in flashes—each one hitting harder as he sinks another inch inside you.
your legs twitch around his hips, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“tight—” he bites off a curse, jaw clenched. “you’re so fucking tight around me.”
another push.
your back arches off the bed—sharp, instinctive—your mouth falling open in a sound that doesn’t even resemble a word.
he braces one hand under your thigh, pushing your knee higher, opening you more, letting himself slide in deeper still.
you feel every ridge, every vein, every impossible inch.
your thoughts scatter—thin, useless things that melt away the moment the next wave of pressure hits.
“suguru—” it comes out broken, breathless, like the syllables barely hold together.
he leans in, lips at your cheek, breathing ragged.
“going dumb already?” he whispers, voice low and full of heat. “and i’m not even all the way in.”
you shiver hard, walls clenching around him so tightly he groans into your skin.
and he keeps going.
inch by inch.
relentless.
your head falls back into the pillows, eyes unfocused, lips parted around soft, helpless gasps. you feel too full, stretched to the point of delirium, pleasure burning through your nerves until thought itself slips away.
he watches you lose yourself on him, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly curved.
“mm… there she is…” he whispers, voice deep and satisfied. “my pretty girl—can’t even think straight, can you?”
your only answer is another shaking moan as he finally sinks the last inch inside you, filling you completely.
your mind goes white.
the moment he bottoms out, your whole body seizes around him—tight, fluttering, overwhelmed.
his breath punches out of him in a low, broken growl against your neck.
“fuck—”
he wasn’t ready for how hard you’d clamp down.
you weren’t ready for how full you’d feel.
your legs twitch around his hips, trembling, flexing without control. he feels every little squeeze.
and god—he reacts.
his hand slides up your thigh, slow, firmer than before, thumb brushing the edge of where you’re stretched around him. he doesn’t move his hips yet—just stays buried inside you, letting the intensity burn both of you alive.
“you feel that?” he whispers against your jaw, voice rougher now—wrecked and trying so hard to hide it. his hands slide up to your tummy where it bulges. “feel how deep i am?”
you can barely breathe, let alone answer. all that comes out is a soft, broken “mmh—”
his lips curve into a slow, heated smile against your cheek.
“look at you. can’t even talk.”
your walls flutter hard at that, squeezing him again. his breath stutters—really stutters—and his hips twitch, the smallest involuntary jerk deep inside you.
it makes you gasp, loud and high.
“shit—” he mutters, grip tightening on your thigh. “you drive me insane.”
your eyes flutter, unfocused, lashes wet with how overwhelmed you are. he watches every tiny reaction—drinks it in like he’s starving.
then he pulls back.
not all the way—just a few inches.
just enough for you to feel the stretch shift, for the thickness of him to slide drag against your walls, and your mouth falls open in a sound that’s half whine, half moan.
his jaw clenches hard.
“yeah… i want that,” he breathes. “give me more of those sounds.”
he pushes forward again, slow and heavy, and your back arches without you telling it to—your body meeting him like you’re begging even if your voice can’t form the words.
he sets a rhythm—not fast, not rough.
deep.
deliberate.
each slow thrust makes your breath snag, makes your thighs shake around him, makes your fingers dig into his back like you’re trying not to fall apart.
you can’t think.
you can’t speak.
you can’t do anything except take it.
“that’s it…” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours, breath warm and shaky. “go dumb for me.”
your lips tremble around another moan.
he moves again—another slow, dragging thrust that makes your vision blur.
“mmh—s-sugu—” you manage, barely.
he laughs softly, breathless, kissing the corner of your open mouth.
“yeah, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips, voice low and ruined. “let me fuck the thoughts right out of my smart girl.”
“y-you’re—” your voice breaks as he thrusts in again, slow enough to make you feel every inch, “you’re s-saying— ngh—”
you can’t even finish the sentence.
he smiles against your cheek—a slow, wicked thing—but his breath is unsteady, warm, desperate.
“what?” he teases, rolling his hips deeper, forcing another shaky gasp out of you. “too much for that pretty brain? where did she go?”
you shake your head, but it’s useless—you’re trembling, panting, already melting around him.
he kisses the corner of your open mouth again, lips lingering as he thrusts—slow and deep—building pressure that coils tight and unbearable low in your belly.
“don’t hide,” he whispers. “don’t even think.”
another thrust, perfectly angled, rubbing every sensitive spot inside you as your breath catches.
“just feel me,” he murmurs, voice cracking with restraint. “feel how good you’re taking me—” your back arches helplessly.
your moan is so high, so helpless, so wrecked you slap a hand over your mouth.
he immediately takes it away—fingers curling around your wrist, pinning your hand above your head on the pillow.
“no,” he breathes, eyes dark, pupils blown. “don’t you dare hide those sounds from me.”
he pulls back just enough to thrust harder, faster, hips rolling with a deliberate, punishing rhythm.
your walls clamp and release around him, slick coating him more and more with every stroke.
“fuck—” he groans, voice low and rough, nipping at your jaw. “she’s so fucking wet for me.”
his hand drifts lower, thumb brushing over your clit in lazy, deliberate circles while he drives into you, the sensation making your breath hitch violently.
your hips lift on instinct, desperate, trying to chase both sensations at once, and he matches every movement, teasing, grinding, driving you higher and higher.
“pretty girl. ugh— shit.”
you clench around him and his thrusts become sharper. you choke out a sound, lost in the heat and pressure, body quivering, mind completely dumb.
“ahh—fuck! oh god—” your voice shatters into helpless gasps.
he groans against your skin, losing a little of that composed edge, utterly wrecked by how perfectly you’re taking him.
“that’s it…” he whispers, voice low, desperate, teasing, “let go for me, baby. let me ruin you.”
he hitches one hand to your hip, the other still pressing over your clit, rolling his thumb in tight, maddening circles while his hips slam into you, hard and relentless.
your body jolts with every thrust, walls clamping around him, pulling him deeper, lost in heat and friction.
“ah—!” your voice shatters, high and desperate, drowning in the haze of pleasure.
he groans, forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing your temple. “so wet… so perfect…”
he drives into you faster, hips snapping, thumb pressing harder against your clit.
“mmgh—oh fuck—i’m close!” you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders, trying to hold yourself together.
he buries himself deeper, following the rhythm of your body, letting every shudder, every gasp guide him.
“let go,” he murmurs, teeth grazing your shoulder, voice low and strained.
your walls clamp around him, slick coating him, heat consuming you, and your cry tears out before you can stop it.
his hips stutter, jaw flexing, breathing ragged, as he rides you through your climax, feeling every tight, trembling motion.
you shiver violently, legs quaking, mind going completely blank.
he presses a final deep thrust, letting you ride it out, hands holding you steady as the last waves of pleasure wash through you.
after a moment, your bodies collapse together, slick and trembling, foreheads pressed, breaths mingling, utterly spent.
and then a smile against your throat.
“mm…sorry sweetheart, i think i went a little off script. shall we try again?”
series masterlist | taglist open
if you didn’t read pt 1, this is based on this twitter porn link! (heh don’t open in public…)
those who asked to be tagged and those who commented for part 2! @m1kah4h @chellerambles @outlirs @katsukiskavpav
₊˚ ✧ ⊱⋆ cover me. ───── caleb x afab!reader. 5.3k words, hurt-comfort, smut. this fic is part of the youtiful series.
tags: porn with plot, porn with feelings, established relationship, strong portrayals of codependency (reader is very reliant on caleb), emotionally vulnerable reader (going through a rough patch), caleb in kinda a caregiver-reminiscent role, cuddles, kisses, praise and reassurance, fingering, cuddle sex, use of pet names "pips" "pip-squeak" "baby". lmk if i missed any tags!
premise: 4 times caleb takes care of you, +1 time he does a little extra. or—everything feels a little more difficult to you on your off days, but luckily, caleb is around to help you through them.
note: its been kinda terrible for me lately and when it gets like this i *am* the kind of person who says fuck being strong and independent i need to be placed in a 'please care gently' box and doted on 😭🤲 in lieu with how acts of service coded caleb is, i was also thinking that i'm def not the only one out there who finds comfort in him the same way... so this fic is for me, but also for those of you who might identify a lil with it, too <33
You had learned, over the years, that very little escaped his attention—
Especially when it came to you.
This meant that if he walked into your room at this very moment, he would likely notice three things immediately.
First, the mug sitting at your desk. Full, barely touched. You'd gotten yourself coffee earlier; it had long since gone cold.
Second, the pile of clothes by the bed. Work clothes—kicked haphazardly to the side, careless, and messy, and treated simply like an afterthought.
You had better things to do.
Better places to be.
For he would notice—third—
You.
Bundled up in your blanket, messy hair, rumpled pajamas... You were sitting up, sure… but slouched. Staring blankly at the wall in front of you. At the desk, scattered with papers; at the mug, that stared back, almost as if mocking the very fact that you'd barely had anything since you got home at all.
You had learned, over the years, that very little escaped his attention… especially when it came to you.
So you weren't surprised anymore when he'd knocked gently on the door, quietly slipping in holding a plate of your favorite braised chicken wings.
Caleb's specialty.
"Pips, weren't you gonna come out for dinner?"
If the smell hadn't been enough to lift your head, his voice was.
Slowly you raised to meet his eyes, and watched—blankly, almost—as he walked over and sat beside you.
"Not hungry…" you murmured.
You could barely hear yourself. You wondered if he'd heard you at all.
"I know, baby. But you gotta eat somethin' tonight… And didn't you always like when I made these? C'mon."
He nudged you with his shoulder, and the blanket slipped—just a little bit. In that very moment you recalled the fact that he'd be spending the week with you in Linkon, and your throat closed up. Your eyes drew slowly to the plate he was holding.
Caleb rarely got so many days off just to spend time with you. And yet, you…
How had you come home to him and barely said a word…?
You recalled the way you'd trudged in with heavy footsteps, and a heavy heart. Greetings? Barely. Surprise? Barely. You'd gone straight to your room like the world outside had suffocated you, and you'd barely looked in the direction of the one person that you… loved with everything you had.
Loved, but didn't quite show it.
Perhaps in this moment, you weren't even sure if you had the ability to love at all.
And yet, Caleb wasn't questioning you.
He only had a pointed look, eyebrows raised, waiting—hoping—that you'd take him up on his offer.
The food.
You were already being such a terrible girlfriend. And yet, he was so… patient.
So slowly, carefully, you shed the blanket to rest at your waist, reached out for the food and utensils, and slowly took a bite.
Sweet. Rich in flavor.
Caleb always had a way of cooking that made your heart all warm and fuzzy, and now, even like this, even when you could barely be… it still felt the same.
Tears welled up in your eyes a little.
You sniffled, mid-chew, and leaned against him.
"Thanks…" you whispered.
It was all you could say, even if you wished you could say so much more. Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you.
He chuckled, anyway.
"Yeah? You like it? S'good, then. Gotta make sure my girl doesn't skip her meals."
His arm wrapped around you, and he leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek.
"I'll stay and wait. You mind the company?"
"No…"
I like that you'd stay.
And that was one way, that Caleb liked caring for you.
The shower should have helped, because it usually did.
Yet you'd gone in with slow, monotone steps, and came out the very same way.
It dragged—water on your hair, your skin, the sound of the shower running over tiled flooring.
It dragged—the towel thrown carelessly on your body, hair tossed behind your shoulder.
It dragged—
Your feet.
Heavy, gradual steps… A little trail of water…
You'd barely dried yourself off before you shuffled out into the room, and your gaze stayed low. Head bowed. Your eyes could have been fixed somewhere near your feet, but you didn't quite process the carpeted floor, didn't quite process how cold the air was on your skin after your shower.
Static noise.
Your footsteps stopped as you reached the foot of your bed.
And Caleb—he'd been right where you left him, sitting by the bed, concernedly waiting to see if you needed any help…
Caleb had seen you naked several times by now, but this time was different. Even as he stood to pull your towel off, even as he gently turned you to face away from him, even as he held it out and carefully gathered your hair between the cloth and treated your hair with care even you had rarely ever shown it… it was gentle. So loving.
You felt yourself lean back. He was warm, and calm, and safe—and Caleb—
Your eyes closed, despite yourself. The heat radiating off of his body seemed to seep into your own, and it felt nice.
It felt nice.
He hadn't said anything. Didn't chastise you for being helpless, didn't scold you for getting the carpet wet. Caleb wasn't like that.
Instead, he hummed. A soft melody, almost instantly calming the loud thoughts in your head. He rubbed the towel carefully over your hair, up to your scalp, in slow, soothing circles. Treated it as if it were any other day, found joy in the very fact that he got to do this for you in the first place.
Such a simple thing such as drying your hair.
"I like the shampoo you used," he said lightly. He paused, lifted a lock of your hair to his face. "Is it new? Your hair hasn't smelled like this before."
"Oh… a friend recommended it to me…"
"It suits you."
A trace of a smile formed on your face.
"Really…?"
"Mhm. Might be my new favorite."
He'd fixed the towel for you after, picked out clothes for you that he knew you'd find comfortable. You would wait patiently by the bed—pliant, still, and comforted—and let him dress you.
Because that was another way, that Caleb liked caring for you.
Whenever evenings came, the room always stayed quiet. It had been, daily. You preferred it like this, liked sitting in the comfort of the gentle silence of it, much much more than the noise. For in it, you could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, and the quiet breaths beside you…
They were the only sounds. Soft, and steady, and soothing, and grounding.
And Caleb had fallen asleep before you.
He had his arm around your waist. You were pulled against his chest in a warm cocoon of an embrace, and you knew that Caleb had a way of holding you that felt like safety—much like this. Often when he held you like this, he could make you forget everything else that existed in the world… Because he was the only one that mattered, and to you, that was safe.
And so you really could have slept.
Your eyes were already heavy. Your limbs were really drained. You were tired. As much as you had been this week, and as you had been all throughout the day.
And, yet, every time you closed your eyes… the quiet of your bedroom faded only to the noises in your head.
They were louder than the sounds outside.
Louder than honking cars, than chattering crowds… Louder, much louder, than the heartbeat that meant so much to you, no matter how hard you tried to listen for it.
Closing your eyes was dangerous. You could drown.
So your eyes stayed open.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of your nightlight. On the wall, the hands continued to move, and you’d watched seconds—minutes—pass more and more times than you cared to keep track of, because what else could you do? Trying too much made your throat close. Thinking too much made your heart heavy. Even now, with your eyes wide open, you could see in your mind's eye every little mistake you'd made today.
Today—and yesterday—and the day before—and the day before that—
The truth was that you could barely keep anything together.
Already there were voices laughing in your head; calling you dumb, and pathetic, and useless.
How did you get to where you were? Did you even do any of it yourself? Were you even worth anything on your own?
All you do is rely on him. You've been babied all your life, and now you can't do a single thing by yourself.
Not even eat.
Not even dress.
Not even sleep.
You grit your teeth, and your hand curled into the blanket.
These were the thoughts that would hiss at you when you closed your eyes. Louder, much louder, than you could hear them even now.
But you had to sleep. You needed to be up in the morning, needed the energy to begin again—
Caleb shifted slightly.
"Pip-squeak…? Why’re you still up?"
His voice was rough with sleep, barely louder than a whisper, but it worked.
It worked, and you went still.
Caught.
And then his chin brushed faintly against the top of your head, almost in a motion so immediately understanding of the situation that you drew in a breath—he knew you so well.
"Nightmare?" he murmured.
"Mhm…"
A quiet hum into your hair, followed by a little kiss. "C'mere, baby."
Slowly he turned you to him, and face to face like this, you swallowed. His eyes met yours. All purples, and oranges, and the deepest, most beautiful sunset you've ever seen. And you could drown in it. Drown in him.
It would have been better than drowning in the thoughts in your head.
Caleb smiled, a little quirk of his lips before he leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose.
"S'it okay if I kiss you?"
His hand reached up to cup your cheek, weighted, yet grounding, his thumb rubbing in little passes over your skin.
You nodded.
You'd never say no to that.
And like always, Caleb had a way of holding you that felt like safety.
He leaned down, and kissed you— once— twice— just little, light kisses, presses of his lips against yours that felt like love.
"Just close your eyes," he whispered. "M'gonna be right here, pips."
And he would kiss you to sleep.
That, was another way that Caleb liked taking care of you.
But it was stupid that it wasn't enough.
It was enough—
But it wasn't enough.
Caleb had already been spending the entire week taking care of you.
Making sure you ate, making sure you slept well… He did so much, as much as he could. And every day he made coming back home more bearable for you than it would have been, what with every effort he would make just to ensure you felt something.
And you did feel something.
Love, in some sense.
Seen.
Because he never complained when he did these things, never once made you feel like a burden. Instead, he was gentle about it. Patient.
And you wanted it to be enough.
God, you wanted it to be enough.
You wanted to wake up one morning, wanted to feel normal again. You wanted to smile at him, and mean it in your heart—You wanted to be with him, in a way that was whole, and true, and entirely absent of the heaviness that had settled so insistently there in your chest.
Yet, you still just needed so much of him.
So much.
Too much.
You held the broken pieces of the plate in your hands, and your lips trembled—because you were pathetic. All of this, and you couldn't get a single thing right. You would even break a plate.
And you knelt on the floor, let out a choked sob. Nevermind the traces of ceramic left on the floor, nevermind the scrapes you could have on your knees. Tears blurred your eyes as you clutched the broken plate against your chest, almost as if you'd broken something precious.
It became louder, then.
You felt the twist in your chest, your heart splitting open out before you as the sob turned loud in anguish.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
"I-I can't… I can't do it…! I can't…!"
You didn't hear the door open.
Didn't hear the footsteps.
Barely reacted to the arms that wrapped around you, the arms that lifted you up in such a familiar way, and then held you against his chest—
You wouldn't stop shaking. Though you buried your head into your chest, your fist moved to punch, weakly, and tearful sobs broke through even the muffle of how tight his embrace was.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't do anything.
And he kissed you on the crown of your head.
He cradled you in your arms.
He held you, rocked you back and forth, gave you all the warmth he could muster… And all that noise in your head—and in your heart, and in your soul—settled slowly to a calm.
Sobs died down into whimpers. Then sniffles. Your hands fisted into the cloth of his shirt, not daring to loosen, not daring to let go, but… you could smell him. That cologne, apples, and wood, and everything you've always loved so dearly. And when you opened your eyes next, and saw him so close to you, your lips wobbled—
Relieved.
Even now, he was still here.
Even now , he would still hold you.
"It's okay, pips," he whispered, "it's okay. I've got you."
You heard his voice clearer this time. No longer the beating of your heart echoing in your ears, no longer the screams of voices yelling at you in your head to be worth something.
Caleb had always been enough—and though more, and more, and more you would want from him, he would give more, and more, and more, and more.
It was enough.
Perhaps the first time that week, you truly, genuinely felt that it was enough.
He was enough.
Caleb’s hand was still moving slowly through your hair, even a moment later. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been sitting there on the counter until the apartment had gone completely quiet again—your breathing had calmed, and you'd stopped sniffling.
But your fingers were still curled into the front of his shirt, not quite ready to be parted.
"Stay…"
You whispered without thinking, as if expecting that he could leave any moment.
As if expecting that you weren't worth staying for.
"M'not goin' anywhere, baby, I promise."
"No, but… but stay… Stay with me…"
You clenched your fist tighter. And in response, Caleb chuckled softly, let his hand slide from your hair down to the back of your neck, steady and warm.
"I am," he said softly.
His thumb brushed your cheek, tilted you up to look at him.
Again. He leaned in to brush his lips into your ear.
"D'you want me closer than this?"
You bit your lip.
Closer?
Something in you stirred—like recognition of the tone he used, no matter the sweet, kind way he'd spoken; like recognition of his hand, sliding down to your waist, squeezing gently.
He was teasing, but there was a little more to it.
Your heart bloomed.
Yes.
You wanted to say it—
Yes, please… Take care of me again.
Closer.
Just like…
You looked at him, big, pleading eyes.
"Could you?" you whispered.
And his hand tightened slightly at your waist.
"…Yeah," he murmured, "yeah. I can."
The mattress dipped softly beneath you as Caleb set you down, but he didn't move away immediately. He kept one hand rested at your waist, the other moving over to swipe your tears away.
"My pretty baby," he cooed.
And your hands didn’t loosen from his shirt. The fabric stayed bunched in your hands, still desperate, still pleading.
"Caleb…"
A quiet, fond huff of breath left him. "You gonna let go, or…?"
"N-no, don't leave! I-I still—"
"Shhhhh."
"I just put you down," he nudged your nose gently with his. "I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay?"
But just as you'd asked, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned closer. One hand came up again, brushing lightly along your cheek, tucking a damp strand of hair back where it had stuck to your skin. You felt yourself lean into it, eyes fluttering closed.
He made you feel needed.
It was something you'd been craving—something you couldn't find yourself believing, and yet he'd been so patient, this whole time. It was he who was needed—he who you needed—yet he'd turned around and gave that feeling to you.
He needed you. He loved you.
You felt it. You really did. After all these days, and it had settled into your heart, and he had been patiently waiting for it to do just that.
And when you opened your eyes again, he was still right there. Closer than before. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, slow and even now, brushing faintly against your skin.
"You’re… really good to me," you said quietly. The words came out before you could overthink them.
"Hm? You think?"
You nodded again, a little more certain—"I don’t know what I’d do without you."
Caleb chuckled.
"Good thing you don’t have to find that out then, huh?"
And then he kissed you.
Soft, and light—almost like testing, almost like making sure you wanted this, just as much as he did… Well, just as much as he wanted you.
Your chest filled with warmth.
When he pulled back, your hands shifted their hold up to his shoulders, and tugged him back down.
No…
Please. More.
You didn't have to say it.
He smiled, eyes softening with relief, and when his lips met yours, he moved with love—and care—and so much, of everything, all that he'd been holding back. So much of it that you'd been needing.
His other arm slipped around you as your lips parted, and he pulled you in closer, guiding you more fully against him.
I love you…
You would say it through the kiss; he would say it back to you. And every slide of his tongue against yours felt like a promise he was renewing, right there against your mouth, and you made a small, broken sound into him.
One hand slid higher. He rest on the nape of your neck. The other stayed low, dipping beneath your shirt, palm flat—almost possessive—against your spine.
He was anchoring you.
Grounding you.
When you pulled apart this time, the kiss broke with a soft, wet sound that made your stomach flip.
And suddenly the air between you felt thick.
Syrupy, hazy—you couldn’t quite catch your breath, not when everything felt liquid, and warm, and unsteady, and the heat of it made your head spin. Your eyes were half-lidded. Your arms were locked tight around his neck. Your thighs had shifted around his hips without you even realizing, and you felt so needy, your cheeks burned.
You couldn't help the way you chased after his lips, hips moving against him in a quick, subtle grind.
He chuckled. "Hey, easy, easy… I know you're feelin' needy, baby, but relax. I got you."
You buried your face against the side of his throat, embarrassed heat flooding your skin. "I just! I don’t want you to stop…"
"Yeah? I won't stop, then, buuut… if you wanna be a little more specific with what you want from me…" He huffed another gentle laugh against your hair, then tilted his head to brush his lips along your temple. "You know I'm all yours, pip-squeak. Soo, wanna… say it f'me?"
Your cheeks flushed darker at that. Your heart stuttered. You turned your face into his neck again, hiding, but you couldn’t stop a quick little jerk of a nod—
I… want…
"Touch me," you whispered. "D-down… down there…"
Your words came out small and pouty, lips trembling as you said them. You could feel how wet you were already. The mere thought of it made you squeeze your eyes shut tighter.
"Hm? S'that all?"
He leaned in, kissed the corner of your lips.
One.
And then another.
Soft kisses, peppered all over your face, and you could feel the little smile he had as he waited.
And waited.
Caleb was so patient.
You whimpered beneath him, and how could you love him any more than you already did?
"Wanna feel you…"
The words stuck for a second. You had to force them out, voice cracking with embarrassment.
"…Inside."
Caleb hummed.
His hand slid lower, palm flattening possessively over the curve of your ass—
You felt it.
He held you flush against him, the bulge in his pants a loud, and sure testament, of how much his desires seemed to match your own.
"Feel that?" he chuckled. "You and I were never out of sync, pips."
You whined softly, hips rocking once against him before you could stop yourself, and the friction made you gasp.
"A-ah… Caleb, I— I-I want your…"
"Yeah? Go on, baby."
You couldn’t look at him.
You pressed your forehead hard to his collarbone, voice muffled and shaking.
"—Your cock," you whispered.
Please… Inside…
Then he let out another fond chuckle, and placed a kiss into your hair.
"Attagirl," he murmured. "That’s my good girl. I'll give you everything you want. Okay, pips?"
He was true to his word.
His hand drifted lower, past your navel, over the soft mound of your pussy, until his fingers finally settled between your legs. The heel of his palm cupped you gently. He let you feel the warmth, let you settle in the safety of his touch.
You whimpered at the contact.
"Ah, Caleb, p-pleas—"
"Shhh. We'll go slow, baby, 'kay?"
"But…!"
"Do you trust me?"
You drew in a breath, and your lips turned down to a pout.
"…Yes…"
"Then let me make you feel good, yeah?"
You couldn't do anything but nod. Couldn't do anything but moan, as he complied to your plea anyway, and he deftly pushed your panties down your thighs.
Your legs spread immediately.
Two fingers parted your outer lips in such a slow, tender motion—you tried your hardest to behave, to stay still, to let him play with you at the pace he knew you liked best, anyway.
But you were struggling.
Caleb pressed kisses into your hair, parted you wider with his fingers, exposing you to his eyes in the lewdest, naughtiest way, and he grinned.
"Mm… So, so wet f'me."
You could barely take it.
His middle finger slid languidly through your slickness, coating himself in you, letting you feel just how easily you opened for him. Then he'd pause—circle them slowly over your entrance, feel the way your thighs trembled with anticipation.
The wet sounds of it all were embarrassingly loud in the quiet of your room.
And then he finally—finally—slipped inside.
You keened at the sensation, clenching immediately at the feel of his fingers snug in your pussy.
He groaned low in his chest.
"Fuck, baby, listen to her…"
He curled those two fingers the tiniest bit, stroking along your walls in slow, patient come-hither motions. "Clenchin' so sweet already and I’ve barely started…"
"Nnh— i-it's because you, ah…!"
Fingers brushed against that little spot inside you, and you choked on your words.
"Mm, there it is. Nothin' bad about it, pips, y'know? Just let me take care of you. You don't have to worry about a single thing."
And in response, your hips rocked into him before you could stop them. This time—he let you.
You couldn’t run from the sensation even if you wanted to.
Breathing ragged, he pumped his fingers, in and out, following the movement of your hips. Little broken whimpers started slipping out with every exhale. Caleb smiled at it—so fond, so proud, you no longer knew what to do with yourself at the way that he looked at you.
"God, baby, I love you so damn much…"
He kissed the shell of your ear with a groan.
"You gotta believe me when I say everythin' I do for you's worth all the trouble in the world… I mean, fuck, look at you…"
Tears welled in your eyes.
"R… r-really?" you whispered.
"Really really, pip-squeak."
"But I take—mh, fuck—I-I take so much from you, and I… ah, Caleb, I…"
"Yeah? Well I love that you do."
Another deep thrust of his fingers then, and your whole body arched like a bowstring.
"C-Caleb—!"
It was a rush of pleasure. Your nails dug into his shoulders. He sighed against your skin, and though you vision had blurred through your tears, you could feel him smile.
"Yeah… there she is. There's my girl… easy now, baby."
He slid down your body, kissing your jaw—your neck—your collarbone—
Your shirt had ridden up to expose your stomach, and still his lips pressed into your skin, even as his fingers worked meticulously to ride out your orgasm.
Your eyes were bleary.
Your chest rose and fell as you pulsed around him, and though his fingers stilled, you keened at the feeling of still being so… full.
"You still okay, pips?"
Caleb hummed as he moved you over, and settled snug behind you. His face nuzzled into your neck. Arms wrapped around you so tightly, so comfortingly—you let out a slow exhale, and settled back against him.
"Mhm."
"I really love you, y'know."
"Mhm…"
"And I know you've been feelin' bad lately. Just want you to know that it's okay. I won't leave 'til you feel better."
"…Will you always take care of me, Caleb?"
"'Course! I promise. You know I don't break my promises."
You let out a soft whimper then, feeling once more the hard press of his length up against your ass.
"Caleb…"
"M'not done takin' care of you yet… Can I put it in, baby? You asked for my cock earlier…"
He rutted forward, a little jolt of his hips that made you gasp.
"Please, baby…"
And how could you refuse?
You were wet, and swollen—even just the shape of him up against you made you shiver, and frantic hands reached back to tug on his sweats as your head turned to plead back at him with your eyes.
I want it, too.
"It hurts, too…" you pouted, eyes still glassy from the pleasure he'd already given you. "I-I want more… Please take care of me again…"
He shuddered against you.
In the next moment he'd curled protectively around your figure and nudged the top of your thigh forward, and you felt it.
Blunt, and hot, and wet—The tip of his cock settled neatly against your slit, rubbing slightly, smearing itself in the mess of your arousal.
Schlck. Schlck.
"Mnn… C-Caleb…!"
"Yeah… Jus' lemme…"
He didn’t push in right away. He rocked forward in the tiniest motion, letting just the tip slip inside—barely an inch—then pulled back out again.
Slow.
Real slow.
He groaned low when your walls hugged the head of him, all warm and slick and greedy, fluttering around him with a sense of impatience that caught in your voice when you spoke.
"Caleb, please—stop teasing me! I… I want— ah!"
He chuckled—then moaned.
Slowly the fullness of him slid in with a loud, lewd noise, and you gasped, reached out to grasp at the sheets.
His hold on you tightened.
Ragged breaths over your nape.
His hand splayed wide over your lower belly, pressing so you could feel him, so deep, so full.
"Fuck… you always feel like home, baby."
And he felt like yours.
Again the tears seemed to start.
The feeling of it—being so close to him, being one with him… It felt as if every ounce of his love for you—more, and more, and more than he'd already shown—poured into you in waves.
You choked back a sob.
Immediately you covered your face with your hands, and—
There was no holding it back anymore.
You cried.
Helpless, senseless babbles into the palms of your hands before they were pried away, replaced by the soft, soothing kisses he would place all over the side of your face.
"Caleb…!" You sobbed, lips trembling. "Caleb, I… I'm sorry… I'm sorry, I couldn't say it, I love you, I…!"
And still he stayed patient.
Slow rubs on your arm, nuzzles into your hair.
"Nothin' to say sorry for, pip-squeak," he soothed. "I'm right here, and I always will be. N' I love you so, so damn much."
I love you.
I love you, I love you—
I love you.
Thank you.
Sobs of all of that—love, and relief, and everything combined…
Soon they'd turned into sobs pleasure, as slow, steady rocks began to stir the shape of him inside of you. Little rolls of his hips, barely pulling out before sliding back in again... Each one nudged that spot inside you that still felt swollen and sensitive from his fingers, and you keened.
"Nngh… Ah… s-so good, Caleb— so— hnn—!"
Your sobs and cries mixed in with hushed little whispers against your skin.
Good girl.
So good and pretty f'me.
Let it out, baby…
There's my girl I love so much…
He was so sweet to you. So filthy, with the way his hips would rut into yours with a muted slap.
One of his hands found yours where it clutched the sheets; he laced your fingers together, brought your joined hands up to rest against your chest so he could hold you even closer.
You were trembling. Every tiny movement dragged pleasure through you like silk, so slow, so syrupy.
"Mm, love feelin' the way you clench 'round me… Are you close, pip-squeak?" he murmured against your ear. "Gonna cum f'me, pretty girl?"
He kissed the back of your neck. Your shoulder. Your jaw.
"Yes… Y-yes, yes, I wanna cum, ple— mnh, please, Caleb—!"
"Go ahead then, baby. Cum for me."
He would coo into your ear as your pleasure broke. Held you tight, even as you trembled, even as his own hips stuttered at the feel of your orgasm, and his breath hitched against your skin.
That's it, there we go.
There's my good girl.
I love you.
You choked over a sharp intake of breath.
I love you.
And he would repeat it.
I love you.
i love you.
I love you.
You felt the moment he pulsed inside of you, spilling in thick ropes of a warmth that made you melt.
And then he stayed buried. Didn’t move to pull out. For long minutes there was only the sound of your shared breathing, slowing together, your sniffles calming down as the tension eased from your body.
"Caleb…" you whispered, voice hoarse.
"Mh?"
"Thank you for taking care of me…"
He smiled, then, at that. Shifted just enough so that his hand could reach upwards, and then brushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face.
"I like it when you rely on me," he admitted. "So even if I have to do it a million more times… there's no problem at all. I'm always, gonna take care of you, pip-squeak."
He cupped your cheek for a moment, thumb wiping away the drying tracks of tears with the gentlest pressure. It was almost as if he could tell you could cry from his words alone—and he let out a soft, fond little laugh.
"S'cute when you're all needy. C'mon, get some sleep. I'll clean us up in a little while."
That… was another way, that Caleb liked taking care of you.
And you wouldn't have changed it for the world.
fic taglist: @fleur-de-leap @ourlittleuluru @unluckywisher @mochibunnies3 @mephisto-reporting @kingraspberry12-blog @starmocha @unknown-ends
+ honorary tag @farspacedreamer bc i know you like the youtiful series a lot WKJFHKJD HOPE U DONT MIND THE TAG THIS ONE TIME
a/n: i know everyone knows that caleb is frequently surrounded by discourse akfhsjf, but i've also found that because of all the ongoing discourse combined, a lot of people like me who actually find comfort in the somewhat caregiver-ish nature of caleb, tend to be thrown under the bus. which. you know. it's kinda not very fun. 😭 the truth is that in a lot of spaces, wanting a lot of- help, love attention, care... can be viewed as really negatively, often to the point where asking for it and wanting to rest and be less 'independent' for once, makes you perceived as less of a person. and some people want to be spoiled, and some people find comfort in getting that kind of attention, and some people also find it hard to ask for. and ofc other people don't identify with that, and they may prefer and enjoy and can easily put on a stronger, more independent front, and that's okay too! but that isn't me, so i've always found a lot of comfort in the way that caleb always loves caring for mc in the way that he does. so on the off chance that i'm not alone in that, i just wanted to take the chance to write something that maybe,,,,, other people like me could identify with, and hopefully find comfort in, in the process 🤲 if this fic brought you comfort then it means i was successful in that, so for the you who did feel comforted by this fic,, know that i'm holding your hand very gently akfhajd 🥹🤲
Please fic writers, I know your aesthetic is important to you. But when you use the smaller text (subscript), it is NOT able to be scaled up by accessibility options on iPhones.
Try it now. You can go into your device settings, make your text size bigger, but this will still be the same size.
This makes it extremely hard as someone who is visually impaired to read your beautiful stories because the text is simply too small. Please consider making the body of your work the regular size, I beg you.
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⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅. mornings w caleb always end up in you gasping for breath as he salivates bw your thighs ♡
〷〨 cw. oral(f receiving), morning smex, caleb in love ARGHHHH, caleb is a certified pussy-muncher, long ass eating out post SORRI, that wolf cut and those mullet kinda did sum to me so him in a lil ponytail yummm
you awaken slowly, pulled from your slumber by a force that you have no name for, your back arching off the mattress and your legs quivering with pleasure. your lips part in a silent groan as you reach down, eyes fluttering as you grasp blindly at the dark head of hair working determinedly between your spread thighs.
“cal-caleb?” the syllables escape you in scarcely more than a whimper. your fingers find purchase around the soft little ponytail that sits messily atop his head, tangling in the silky strands. “caleb-nnngh.”
your tormentor pulls away for the briefest of seconds, and you keen at the momentary loss of his wet mouth. “shh,” he breathes, chuckling lowly when you jolt. “It’ll feel really good soon.”
warm hands smooth up your thighs, sending shivers up your spine as his arms wind around you in an ironclad embrace. you’re rendered immobile, helpless in his grasp, and your mouth falls open when he envelops your clit between his lips and gives it a harsh suck. your hips buck at the burst of pleasure, but he’s quick to splay his hands against your stomach and pin you back down against the rumpled sheets. almost apologetically, he licks a stripe up the length of your clenching pussy, dipping inside for a split second before the wet, hot suction of his mouth returns to your clit in full force. a sharp moan tears from your throat, escaping into the open air of your bedroom.
blinking blearily against the sunlight flooding through the gap in the curtains, you finally take in your gege’s prone figure, his head and bare shoulders illuminated in hazy gold. his hair is gathered up at his crown, a few stray tendrils escaping from the elastic and standing at odd angles, and affection blooms in your heart at the sight. your fingers trail gently through his ponytail, and though you can’t see his face, you can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against the soft skin of your inner thigh.
“pretty girl,” he coos fondly. “wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you cum.”
you arch breathlessly when he punctuates his sentiment by slipping two fingers inside your pussy with no warning at all. his mouth wraps around your clit again, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud in time with the steady cadence of his fingers, and you shudder deliriously when he easily finds the spot that has you seeing stars.
your grasp on his hair tightens, further mussing the soft strands, but he doesn’t even seem to notice as he digs a little deeper, releasing your clit to groan in approval. deliberately, he replaces his mouth with the heel of his palm, grinding insistently against the nub until your hips are spasming in his grip.
“caleb-” you gasp. “oh, god-”
“tell me, pips,” he rasps. the hand that’s still wound around your legs releases its steely grip, coming up to close over your fingers on his head. slowly, he encourages you to grasp his ponytail more tightly, a low groan escaping him when your nails scrape against his scalp. “show me where you want me.”
you’re wide awake now. exhaling shakily, you spread your legs a little wider, guiding his face back between your thighs until his nose is brushing against your clit. he retracts his fingers from where they’re sheathed inside your core, and you’re about to reprimand him when he seemingly reads your mind and licks a long, slow stripe up the length of your entrance. your eyes flutter shut at the warm wetness of his tongue, your lips parting in a moan, and when he dips inside you gasp his name.
your gege is no longer teasing. he eats you out now with an enthusiasm that puts all his previous efforts to shame, alternating between long licks and soft sucks on your clit. pleasure coils in the pit of your belly, tightening with each swipe of his tongue. you’re teetering at the edge, dangerously close to the brink, and caleb seems to sense it because he doubly renews his efforts. two fingers slip inside you, curling up just so to reach that soft spot, and the resulting wave of pleasure nearly has your vision going white. your hips spasm as you ride out your orgasm, your walls clenching wildly around his fingers, and he chuckles as his thumb pets you in slow, sure circles.
“that’s my girl,” he murmurs. still feeling rather boneless, you glance down to see him smiling happily at you, the ponytail atop his head askew and his chin slick with your juices. giggling, you smooth a hand over his messy hair, tugging gently at the loose strands near his nape until he takes the hint and crawls up your body to give you a kiss.
“i like your hair,” you tell him once he’s pulled back for air. “thought you should know.”
he grins, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “and I like you. thought I should show you.”
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credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3 dividers I’ve made to fics and things that are sitting in my drafts and decided to share.
credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3 @bunnysp1ce @kalkachis
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
puppy play but theres fireworks going off and i'm trembling under a pile of blankets under a desk and you need to feed me little pieces of cheese to calm me down but i'm so scared i might throw up the cheese
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