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sweetcalebb · 18 days ago

Text

Oblivious boyfriend Caleb !

[Part 1] [Part 2]

wc: 2.6k

a/n: sorry i had to make caleb suffer. he's also still kinda stupid, so read at ur own risk!! i kinda made myself sad so i'm gonna start working on fluff/smut.

pairing: non-MC!reader x caleb

content: self-indulgent, angst, emotional neglect, quiet breakup, fem!reader, avoidant!reader, i had to make caleb ooc, he's a basketball player, college au, hurt/no comfort, lots of caleb just spiraling and rotting in his own guilt

p.s this one isn't as bad.

——

Caleb didn't know.

You never yelled at him, never really told him what was wrong. You just shut down, then pretended everything was fine again. And when he pushed, you deflected.

He never meant to hurt you, he was just careless in a way he didn't understand. He saw it now.

It was too late, but he saw it.

He kept checking his phone. Kept biting the inside of his cheek and bouncing his leg every time he was met with an empty screen.

"She's not gonna text you."

Caleb glanced up at his teammate, shame creeping up his throat.

"I know."

It'd been a week since the breakup. But he kept checking his phone for new text messages. Kept staring at it in the morning, waiting for a good morning text that never came.

It was dumb.

The way he was always looking for you—in every crowd, in every coffee shop, in every library.

The past week had felt like a month. A month of torture—of replaying every interaction he ever had with you and finding his fault in every one.

"You gonna be good for the game next week?"

Caleb's eyes hardened just a fraction. "Why wouldn't I be?"

His friend stared at him, a little too knowingly. They both knew what he wanted to say. 'Because your girlfriend broke up with you, duh!' but his teammate just pressed his lips into a thin line and shrugged.

"You.. I dunno—You just haven't been that focused lately."

Caleb sighed, tearing his eyes away and tossing his phone in his bag. He wasn't even supposed to have it out; if his coach saw, he'd be running lines.

"I'll be fine," Caleb insisted, shuffling back onto the court as if that might give him some peace, but his teammate just followed him.

"Look, if you ever wanna talk—"

"I'm fine," Caleb bit out. "I'll—I'll be fine, alright?"

Silence. Then finally, his teammate sighed and shrugged.

"Alright."

But Caleb wasn't fine.

He was anything but.

At night, he'd lie in bed, his eyes burning from how long he stared at your guys' last texts. In the morning, with his eyes all red and puff from the night before, he'd rummage through his drawer to find something to wear and pause the Hello Kitty pajamas he'd bought for you two.

He'd stare at it too long—enough to feel his stomach curl and his chest tighten—then he'd stuff it to the back of his drawer. It always found its way back up when he looked through it the next day though.

The morning of his game, he found them again. Held it for a little too long. Rubbed his thumb over the fabric as he remembered the last time he wore them on a comfy night in with you.

Maybe that's why he missed the first shot. And the second. And the third.

Maybe that's why he kept looking in the crowd like he might find you there, in that little corner you loved so much. He always said it was hard to see you up there and you always said you got a better view of the game. Of him.

He'd smiled then. Never complained about it again, because how could he when your eyes were all soft like that?

"Caleb! What the hell?"

Caleb stumbled as his teammate nudged his arm. It was meant to be a light push, but he was caught off guard.

"What?" Caleb breathed out, but he knew. He didn't have to look at his teammate or even listen.

He was fucking up.

He was losing them the game. Like he lost you. Like he—

"What the hell are you doing? You said you'd be fine."

"I am," Caleb insisted, even as his eyes flicked to the stands again.

Fuck. Stop it.

They quickly darted back, but his teammate had already caught the look. Everyone knew what this was about.

His teammate looked like he was about to say something else before the whistle blew. Their heads snapped toward the bench where their coach was gesturing them over.

The minute Caleb got close enough, his coach immediately grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him onto the chair.

"Coach—"

"Are you kidding me?"

Caleb flinched. His tone stung more than he wanted to admit. Normally, he didn't care about things like this, but he was raw and exposed. And when Caleb met his eyes and saw the anger and disappointment, he couldn't bear to look anymore.

Shame.

That was all he felt.

Shame, shame, shame.

Shame for missing those shots. Shame for forcing his coach call a time out. Shame for not realizing he was losing you. Everything came back to you.

"How the hell are you missing those shots, Caleb? We need you and you think now is the best time to start half-assing..."

His voice trailed off. Or rather, Caleb wasn't listening anymore. He couldn't. Everything around him grew muffled. Fuzzy. Distant. It was just him and his thoughts.

He kept messing up.

He should've known. He should've seen when you were upset—he did—but you never told him what was wrong. You always brushed him off, why didn't you just—

No. It was his fault. He should've known. He should've—

"Sit the rest of the game out."

Caleb blinked, finally looking up. "What? No, I'm—"

"Hey, you, you're in."

Caleb's chest stung. But he didn't argue. Instead, he sat back, the chair creaking under his weight as he watched someone take his spot.

He was losing it.

Basketball used to make sense. It used to be his. Now he couldn't think straight. Couldn't find it in him to make the shots he was always valued for.

He watched the rest of the game in silence. Didn't cheer. Didn't speak. Not even in the huddles when his coach was glaring at him like the look alone might force some encouraging words out of him. He gave nothing.

He was too tired.

After the game, when MC approached him, he barely said a word—just followed her out the gym to walk her to her dorm. Usually, he would've been with you—his sweaty arm draped over your shoulder, you giggling softly when he ranted about his favorite plays or how nice you looked up there.

"That was..." MC thought for a second, then bluntly ended with, "bad."

Caleb scoffed. "Yeah. Pretty bad."

A beat of silence.

"You kept looking at the stands."

Caleb's jaw tensed, his grip on his duffel bag tightening. It was a reflex. He was used to finding you there.

"She's not there, Caleb."

Hoarsely, it came out, "I know." Even if he didn't act like it. Even if he still checked his phone or looked up at the stands, he knew.

"You miss her."

"..Yeah."

"So what happened?"

Caleb sighed. "Don't."

MC ignored him. "Why did you push her away?"

"I didn't—" Caleb bit back his exasperation. "I didn't mean to. I never meant to."

He swallowed hard. He could feel MC looking at him, waiting for some sort of explanation he wasn't sure he was ready to give because what the hell did he say besides, 'I fucked up'?

"I just—She was quiet. She got hurt, never talked to me about it, then pretended it never happened."

"So you're blaming it on her?"

Caleb's head snapped toward her, guilt burning in his veins. "No! That's not what I'm saying! I'm saying I didn't know."

He took a small breath, his voice softening. "I didn't know how much she was hurting."

Another quiet breath.

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"But you did."

Caleb's throat tightened. "What are you doing?" he asked, his steps slowing to a halt. "Do you think I don't feel bad? That I don't know?"

MC stopped beside him, her eyes softening at the telltale tick in his jaw. "You know I love you, Caleb, but you were shitty."

He felt sick.

"I know that," he murmured.

"You treated her like a second thought."

Caleb felt a lump forming in his throat now. He could defend himself. Say he didn't mean to treat you like that, but at the end of the day, he did. So, he kept his mouth shut and let her continue.

"You know how embarrassing that is for a girl?"

Caleb let out a shaky breath. "MC—"

"People don't get this."

He blinked. "What?"

"They don't get our friendship. They don't understand that when you pat my head or grab my waist, it doesn't mean anything."

Caleb couldn't speak. He was too embarrassed.

He never thought it could look like flirting. With anyone else, sure, it would've been flirting. But with MC? It meant nothing. She was like a sister to him.

But you thought he—God, he was horrible.

"You mean well. I know you do, but you hurt her." A beat. Then, "So stop looking for her."

Caleb didn't say anything. He just stared, his throat a little too tight and his eyes a little too glassy to see right.

MC sighed, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. "I'm sorry. Goodnight, Caleb."

"..Night."

Caleb tried to stop looking for you. Maybe it would be better that way. For both you and him.

And that day, he really did. He kept his eyes down, fought the urge to whip his head the other way when he thought he saw someone who had your hair.

But then he actually saw you. It wasn't a figment of his imagination—no, you were there, walking down the sidewalk with a friend right in front of him.

He wanted to apologize. Blurt out whatever sad little story came out the second he got close enough.

But he didn't.

He didn't deserve that.

So he clutched his bag tighter and tensed his jaw to keep his mouth shut.

You wore a hoodie (not his, he noted), and your hair was pulled up in that hairstyle you did when you were too lazy to do it in the morning.

You looked pretty.

Too pretty.

And looking completely content as you laughed at something your friend said.

Then your eyes met his as you walked past, and it wrecked whatever illusion of composure he had left.

Because your smile didn't drop instantly. It was more of a natural stop, like the moment of laughter was over. Not because his presence did anything to you. No, like you just... didn't care.

Like he wasn't someone you shared a bed with or went on dates with. Like he wasn't the boy you told everything to at one point.

You looked at him as if he were a complete stranger, and finally, it hit him.

Really hit him.

He didn't lose you when you broke up. He'd lost you way before then. He was just too blind to see it.

Caleb had no right to feel hurt. No right at all, but it didn't stop the burn. The ache. If anything, it intensified it.

That night he stayed up until 2 a.m., drafting a text message to you. He wasn't even sure if he'd been blocked or not. He tried not to think about it too much.

Caleb reread it to himself over and over again, his finger hovering over the send button multiple times, but he couldn't do it.

He could hear MC now. "You cared too late."

It made his chest ache and his eyes sting.

He could hear you, too, crying on the phone with him that night, murmuring that quiet, "I'm tired."

God, he remembered too much.

The flashing lights, the crowd pressing in, the bass vibrating in his chest.

You, standing near the drink table, twisting the hem of your shirt. He thought you looked bored. He didn’t realize you were overwhelmed.

He should’ve known when you stopped reaching for his hand.

He tried. Even when everyone was joking and playing a shitty game of beer pong, he glanced over at you, tried deciphering whatever messages you were or weren't sending him.

He was stupid.

They were all right there.

Caleb had managed to slip away from the crowd and sit down beside you, carefully, as if you were some spooked animal.

"Hey.. You okay?"

You nodded, but you wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you told him over the music, but your voice barely reached his ears.

He leaned in again, about to ask something else when his teammate grabbed him by his arm and started pulling him toward the beer pong, claiming it was his turn to play.

"Wait—Y/N is—"

"She'll be fine! Just one quick game!"

Caleb glanced over at you one last time. Even if he stayed, would you have told him what was wrong? His stomach curled. No, probably not, which is why he gave in with a grudging, "Just one game."

And when he came to check in later, he said, "Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

You'd smiled and said no.

Now, looking back, that smile felt rehearsed.

He should’ve known it was your way of saying please don’t make me spell this out for you.

He should’ve tried harder.

Fuck.

And then you left.

After that group picture—that was the last time he saw you. Caleb didn't notice it then, but he did now, and he felt it—the way you slipped away from him. Quick. A little too quick. Like you couldn't stand to be near him.

He looked around. He thought he spotted the top of your head as you nudged the crowd, but he didn't get a chance to go after you because his friends were fussing about how bad the picture was.

About how they needed another one.

Caleb swallowed hard. "Y/N isn't here—"

Flash!

Caleb blinked. He barely had time to speak again before his friends were nudging him.

"Dude! Smile!"

So he did. And when the picture was done with, he looked for you. But he couldn't find you. You weren't by the drinks. You weren't by the couch. You weren't in the bathroom. You weren't in any goddamn room he checked.

But maybe he just kept missing you.

So he texted you and started asking people about you.

No one knew where you were.

And when he checked his messages, he was left on read. Fucking read.

Dread filled his chest, like no matter how hard he tried to deny it, something was incredibly wrong.

But he kept texting you. He had to make sure you were okay, at least.

That's when you went on do not disturb.

It stung.

It made him wonder if you were okay (physically at least). If you were you still at the party. Because you wouldn't try and go home, right? He was your ride.

So, for hours, he spiraled.

He even texted Tara, your dormmate who also wouldn't answer.

Then everything else happened—

You finally responded and he—

You left.

Caleb clenched his jaw, fighting back the lump that crawled up his throat.

He stared at his texts, the letters glaring back at him. It almost felt like they were taunting him, laughing in his face for being so oblivious.

His finger trembled over the send button again.

He missed you. He missed you so much.

He reread his text one last time, trying to look for any typos through the blur of tears he'd fought so hard and failed to keep down.

'I know I was careless. I didn’t mean to make you feel small or forgotten. I don’t deserve another chance, but I wish I could take it all back. You meant more to me than I showed. I'm sorry.'

Caleb took a shaky breath, finally tapping the send with his thumb, and all at once, everything came crumbling down. His throat closed, his stomach tensed, his chest burned.

Not delivered.

He blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep his everything down.

Maybe the wifi was acting up again.

He waited a second, refreshed his messages, turned his wifi on and off. Still not delivered.

No.

No, you—you didn't.

With a shaky finger, he pressed the call button.

He waited for the usual ring.

But it never came.

Instead, he got: 'The person you are trying to reach is not available.'

You did.

2K notes · View notes

extraspicynoodles-blog · 11 days ago

Text

you started it!! (satoru x you)

sexting, satoru x you, nsfw, phone sex

text thread - 10:48PM

Satoru<3: room service just got here. megumi's glaring at the dessert cart like it personally insulted him

You: did you get the kids something good?

Satoru<3: duh. i'm the fun dad. also nobara said i have "sugar daddy energy" and i don't know how to feel about that

You: well... you do pay for everything and you do wear sunglasses indoors and you spoil those kiddos rotten so yeah. i see it.

Satoru<3: omg wait am i the blueprint??

You: yes. just... unhinged. and taller. and louder.

Satoru<3: you forgot hotter ;) anyway whatcha doin sugar tits?

You: you did not just call me sugar tits.

Satoru<3: shut up you love it. so whatcha dooooin?

You: i'm in the bath. chase atlantic is playing. i'm rotting peacefully

Satoru<3: ...you didn't warn me. you didn't warn me you were in the bath.

You: lol sorry?

Satoru<3: this feels like an attack.

Satoru<3: lemme see.

You laugh. He's so dramatic. Your cheeks are already warm from the heat of the bath, and maybe a little from the thought of him, sprawled on hotel sheets, texting you like he's already half hard and kicking his feet just thinking about your wet skin.

So you angle your phone and snap a quick pic.

Shoulders up. Hair slicked back, wet and clinging to your skin like forbidden silk. Lashes damp and heavy, eyes hooded, lips parted just enough to be dangerous. Your cheeks are flushed; partially from the heat, but mostly from the slow, hazy kind of arousal that creeps in when you think about him.

You look... wrecked. Not in a tired way, but in the way that makes you look exactly the way you do when he's got his head buried between your legs, when his name is dripping off your tongue, when your fingers are knotted in his hair and you're trembling from how good he's making you feel.

You send it. No caption. Just a little killshot.

Attachment: 1 Image

The reply takes all of five seconds.

Satoru<3: ...

You smirk as his texts start rolling in; dramatic as always, but you can feel the shift in tone. You're already warm from the bath, Chase Atlantic's vocals spilling through the steam like temptation, and something in you just wants to see how far you can push him tonight.

Satoru<3: are you fucking kidding me.

Satoru<3: nope. nope. no. i'm not doing this. you can't just drop a picture like that looking like you just came from my tongue and expect me to ACT NORMAL

Satoru<3: you look like you just moaned my name. you look like you're still tasting me. your fucking cheeks are flushed and your lips are glossy and you KNOW what that does to me

Satoru<3: i'm literally shaking. i'm shaking. my whole fucking body just flinched like i got sniped. i think i felt it in my soul

Satoru<3: oh my god i'm gonna fucking explode do you even realize what you just did to me?

Satoru<3: i'm hard. like. hurts level hard. and i can't even do anything about it. i'm just casually in the fucking hallway now tempted to teleport back to my fucking room and i'm suffering

You: oops :)

Satoru<3: that's not fair. you're not fair. you look like you're about to say my name with your legs over my shoulders and i'm just supposed to SIT HERE???

Satoru<3: are you FUCKING kidding me.

Satoru<3: i was just here trying to be a good influence and now my dick's about to bust a hole in my sweatpants you are NOT REAL

You: oh no, poor baby

Satoru<3: don't "poor baby" me! you didn't even have to show anything but your shoulders are glistening and your lips are all pink and fuck i'm so fucking hard right now

Satoru<3: god i miss your mouth. i miss your thighs. i miss your everything. fuck.

You stare at his messages, lips curving, heart pounding just a little harder beneath the steam curling around your skin. He's spiraling. And you? You're evil.

So you shift in the water, just a little. Not enough to make a splash, but just enough to pull your arm across your chest, pressing it close, the soft slope of your cleavage rising just above the waterline. It's nothing explicit. No nipples, nothing wild.

But it's intentional. The wet sheen on your skin. The lazy tilt of your head. The way your lashes lower like you're seconds away from purring. Your lips parted curled in a subtle, sweet smirk.

You take the photo and send it.

Attachment: 1 Image

You don't even get the read receipt before your phone buzzes violently.

Satoru<3: OKAY i’m already on my way to my room. immediate emergency. DEFCON ONE. CODE RED. GONNA HAVE A HEART ATTACK

You: hehe

Satoru<3: you are the devil and if you ever say "hehe" again i'm flying home mid mission

Satoru<3: no. actually. say it again. say "hehe" while i'm between your thighs next time.

You: aw, poor baby. need a little break?

Satoru<3: baby i need a break from reality. hold on. gimme 3 minutes. sprinting to my room before i bust in this elevator and have to kill myself out of shame

seen

And then he disappears.

You laugh, sinking a little deeper into the bath as Chase Atlantic hums in the background, your legs lazily dragging through the water. You almost forget what you’re doing to him until-

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Image

It's not subtle. His sweatpants are stretched tight. You can see the imprint of his cock, long and thick and visibly twitching beneath the gray cotton. It's so hard it looks painful, the head pressed tight to the fabric, the outline unmistakable.

Satoru<3:

LOOK

WHAT

YOU

Satoru<3: you think this is normal? i'm so hard it hurts. i'm leaking through the fucking fabric. i haven't even touched myself and i'm about to lose it

Satoru<3: all because you're in a tub looking like the fucking goddess of ruin, the patron saint of making me cum in my pants

Satoru<3: you wanna fix this or should i fuck my hand and cry

You don't reply right away. You know he's waiting. You know he's sitting there, phone clenched in one hand, rock hard in his sweats, twitching every time your typing dots pop up. So you take your sweet, sweet time.

You: hmm. maybe i've already been fucking my own hand this whole time. you'd never know :)

You: water's all rippled and my thighs feel all tingly. wonder why

Satoru<3: NO NO NO NO NO don't say that don't say that unless you're gonna tell me EVERYTHING

Satoru<3: are you? are you touching yourself right now? oh my fucking god

Satoru<3: baby baby please

Satoru<3: send a voice note just one just a tiny moan. please. i'm BEGGING

You: you touching yourself?

Satoru<3: no! i swear! i'm being good.

You: good boy. keep it that way.

You: unless you want me to stop texting.

Satoru<3: NO I'M SITTING ON MY HANDS. I SWEAR. i'm gonna explode. this is torture. this is illegal

You smirk, lean back, and maybe trail your hand through the water. You don't actually touch, but rather let the tension build, for you more so than him. Then a few seconds later...

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You chuckle a little, then press play. It's his voice. Not the playful, cocky tone you're used to. He sounds fucking destroyed.

God, this man was gone for you. And you loved every bit of it.

"F-fuck," he moans, breathless already through your phone speaker. "Please. You're so fucking mean." There's a pause. A faint, shuddering inhale. Like he's trying to compose himself, but he’s absolutely failing. "Just- just lemme touch it, baby. Please. I'm so hard it hurts, I'm- I'm losing it," he babbles, tone climbing rapidly into desperation. "You're in the bath, looking like that, and I'm just supposed to sit here and suffer? My dick is leaking through my sweats. It's- fuck, I'm shaking."

You swear you hear him thump his head back against the wall.

"You make me so fucking pathetic. I wanna put the phone right on my chest, let you hear how fucked up you make me. Please. I'll be good. I'll send another pic. I'll do anything. Just say the word." Another quiet, barely there whimper. And then a desperate little whisper: "...please."

You record it with one press. One take. Nothing too dramatic; just enough breathlessness, just enough softness. A quiet, drawn out moan that drips with suggestion. A little catch in your throat like you're holding something back. Like you might be touching yourself, or maybe you're just really good at pretending.

You send it.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You: guess right and i'll let you. am i touching myself, or just teasing you, baby?

You stare at the screen. Three dots. Then they disappear. Then again. Then disappear.

Satoru<3: oh my god i had to bury my face in a pillow. i'm losing motor function. you sounded so... fuck. fuck. that little gasp at the end??? i need to be inside you NOW

Satoru<3: okay okay okay. you're not touching yourself. your voice was too controlled baby. that little moan was pure theater, wasn't it? you're trying to ruin me

You: ding ding we have a winner!

Satoru<3: FUCK. i win. i win. let me touch myself. please

You: hmm... but wouldn't it be more fun like this?

You take a quick moment before texting again, letting the suspense chew at him. Then you drop the next line, sweet as sugar and twice as cruel:

You: i just really wanna watch you cum without me even touching you, maybe without you even touching yourself. don't you think that'd be fun? making each other fall apart from just words and visuals?

Satoru<3: baby. baby i can't even BREATHE. i just leaked through my sweats again. i think i might actually die

Satoru<3: fuck. okay. okay. gimme a second. say more. just say anything. i'll cum like this. i swear i will. just please talk to me

Your finger hovers over the mic icon. You know exactly what you're going to say. You hit record. Your voice is low. Velvet soft. The kind of voice that wraps around him like silk and squeezes just a little too tight.

"Okay, baby. Go ahead. Take your cock out for me. Slow, okay? I want you to stroke it like I would. Just the tip first. Just a tease. That's it. Breathe for me, Satoru."

You end the message there. Just long enough to guide him. Just short enough to keep him needing more.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

You don't even get the typing dots. Just-

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Video

Your breath catches. He did exactly what you told him. His sweatpants are pushed down, and his cock is in his fist; red, dripping, twitching in his palm. He's stroking the head with slow, shuddering movements, precum smearing across his fingers. You hear him panting, just barely, like he's trying not to be loud, but completely unraveling under your voice.

Satoru<3: Attachment: 1 Video

This one's longer. His whole hand is wrapped around his cock this time. He's thrusting into his own fist, hips jerking, abs flexing. His breathing is louder, less controlled. He's trying to whisper your name, over and over, but it keeps breaking into soft, choked moans. And fuck, he looks so good. Sweat damp hair sticking to his forehead. Eyes glazed. Mouth parted.

Satoru<3: just like that? fuck your voice in my ear and my hand on my cock, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna fucking cum please please please

You bite your lip. Time for his reward.

You shift in the tub, carefully angling your phone. Legs spread, skin still slick and glowing from the water. You slide your fingers down, parting yourself slow, teasing, and then ease two fingers inside. Not just a pose, and not just a suggestion either. You fuck yourself for five whole seconds. Your face visible, your moan soft and shaky, your body gorgeous and completely bare.

Attachment: 1 Video

His reaction is priceless.

Satoru<3:

GOING

DIE

Satoru<3: you are the most dangerous thing that has EVER existed

Satoru<3: i miss you so fucking bad i need to come home i need to live inside you

You grin. And then, like the evil little minx you are, you press record again.

Attachment: 1 Voice Memo

"Aww, baby, you're gonna finish so fast. Slow down for me, okay? I want this to last. Be a good boy. Don't cum yet."

You don't even get a reply. Just the FaceTime logo exploding onto your screen. You answer with a smirk.

He's a fucking mess. Face flushed, white hair tousled, lips parted in a desperate gasp. He's propped his phone up somewhere, and you can see his cock twitching in his fist as he tries to steady his breath.

"Nope. We're doing this live," he pants. "Sorry. I can't. Fucking hell. I need to see you."

You giggle softly, sweet and dangerous. Then shift your camera down, just for a little tease.

The view is devastating; your bare chest and stomach, skin glistening, bubbles pooling around your figure as your fingers are still buried deep inside your cunt under the water. You're moving slow, rhythmic and controlled. The kind of slow that taunts, not pleases.

His moan is immediate. A broken, strangled sound that makes your thighs twitch.

"Jesus fuck-" he groans, gripping himself tighter.

You bring the camera back up. Angle it close. Your flushed face fills the screen; lips parted and glossy, eyes half lidded and dark, a hint of smugness tugging at the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip. Your lashes flutter.

"Satoru," you whisper, voice warm and breathy, "I wish you were here. You'd fuck me so good, wouldn't you?"

He's trembling.

"Oh my god, yes," he gasps. "Yes, I would. I'd- I'd eat you out until your legs shook. I'd fuck you so slow just to hear those little noises. You'd let me, right? You'd ride me 'til I cry?"

Your brows furrow, then raise. That expression. The one he always says makes him lose his mind. You move your fingers just right and let your head fall back slightly, a soft moan escaping as your stomach tenses.

And he fucking whimpers. He's full on babbling now.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck- you're unreal, you're so fucking beautiful, I can't- how are you real? Look at your face, I- I'd worship you for the rest of my life. I'd crawl for you, I'd beg, please, please tell me I can cum-"

You tilt your head. Smirk. Voice soft, dangerous, in that tone you know drives Satoru up the fucking wall and back down again. "Only if you tell me whose cock that is, baby."

"Yours," he chokes out. "Yours, yours, everything is yours. Please, let me, please-"

Your moan is barely a whisper. You nod once, deliberate and slow, giving him permission. And really, that’s all it takes to break Satoru.

He cums with your name in his mouth like he's worshipping at the altar of you and a sob so visceral the phone vibrates. It's violent the way it hits him. He jerks up off the mattress, spine arched, cock spilling ropes of cum all over his abs, his fist still pumping instinctively through every wave. His moans crack into broken, choked off sounds. Eyes wet, lips parted, face completely destroyed.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck- baby, oh my god-"

His head drops back. He gasps, shuddering. And then he sniffles. Deadass crying. You can see the tears clinging to his lashes, the wet shimmer in the corners of his eyes, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

He slowly brings the phone closer, hand still trembling. "...I think you killed me," he breathes. "I think my soul left my body and came all over my stomach."

You giggle softly. Innocent. Cruel. "Aw. What a shame. I didn't even finish yet."

His entire body reacted. He sits up so fast the camera jostled. "No. No. Stop. Stop right now." His voice cracks, acting like you not cumming was on the same scale as a war crime. "Let me," he pleads, breath catching. "Let me talk you through it. I'll make it so good. I swear. Baby, please."

You bite your lip. Shift the camera. Legs still parted in the tub. Fingers still between your thighs. You nod. “Mm, go ahead and try baby.”

His voice drops, breathy and shaky, but soft. "Okay...okay, angel. Touch yourself again. Just slow at first. Just tease me. Act like I'm not even allowed to see."

You move your fingers, slow and shallow. He watches with parted lips, eyes glued to your screen like it's holy.

"You're so pretty. Fuck. I wish I was there. I'd kiss your thighs while you do that. Hold you open with both hands and just...watch."

You let out a shaky moan. His breath stutters.

"I'd slide inside so slow, baby. Let you feel everything." His voice cracks again. "You always take me so good. You get so wet for me. You'd wrap around me like you're made for it."

Your hips start to roll.

"You like when I stretch you open, huh?" he breathes. "When you can feel me deep, pressing against that spot that makes your eyes roll back? I'd go slow, baby. I'd make it last."

Your brows furrow. A soft gasp escapes you.

"God, your face- that face- you're so close, huh? Can I hear you? Can I hear how good you feel?"

Your breathing's getting heavier. Your fingers move deeper now, slick and steady, and your thighs part wider beneath the water.

He sees it, feels it, even through the screen. You don't have to say a word.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Don't rush it yet, baby. I wanna watch."

His voice is low and soothing. Still wrecked, but with a softness reserved only for you as he coos and coaxes you through your own orgasm. You can hear the rawness in his throat; he probably hasn't stopped shaking himself since he came.

"I'd be kissing your stomach right now," he whispers, eyes locked on your screen, like not even the world ending could make him tear his gaze away even only for a second. "Soft, messy kisses while my fingers fuck you stupid."

Your moan escapes unbidden; quiet and cracked.

"You like that? Hm?" he breathes. "You'd be grinding on my hand, wouldn't you? All needy. Whispering my name like it's the only word you know."

You whimper again, your hips starting to roll in rhythm. “Mhmm, and?”

"I'd rub your clit so slow," he continues, breath hitching. "Just circles. Gentle ones. Just enough to make your legs shake."

You gasp softly, eyebrows knitting, and he groans like it physically hurt him.

"God, your face. You make that little expression when it feels just right, right there, baby? Is that it?"

You nod. Barely able to breathe.

"I'd be inside you so deep. I'd fuck into you slow and smooth, over and over, until you couldn't take it."

His voice is shaking again, full of awe and praise.

"You'd look at me with those eyes. Those perfect, sexy eyes. Like I'm the only one who's ever touched you right. You always look so pretty when you're close, baby. Always so fuckin' perfect."

You can feel the pressure building, winding tighter and inching closer to snapping with every word he speaks.

"I'd hold your face while you came for me," he whispers, his voice softening by an octave or two at the thought. "Kiss you through it. Moan with you. I'd be right there, baby. Just like I am now. I'm watching you. I see everything. You're so close, aren't you?"

You nod again, moaning louder this time, body starting to shake. He leans closer to the camera, his eyes wide and pleading, voice full of endearment and encouragement. "Cum for me, angel. Please. I wanna watch how pretty you look."

You're moaning shamelessly from his words alone. The tone, the way he says them, the way he’s so clearly, obviously desperate for you. Your moans start quiet andragged, but build fast the more ruined Satoru becomes. Eventually your whole body’s arching, thighs and stomach convulsing, fingers buried deep and curling, your mouth open in a breathless cry. You make sure your face is in view of the camera; flushed, shining, wrecked, as you moan his name.

"Fuck, Satoru-"

He's watching in absolute awe, like seeing one of the world’s seven wonders through his phone screen; Eyes wide, mouth parted. His eyes watery and glossy as he whispers, "...holy shit."

Your fingers curl deep. Your toes flex beneath the water. Your mouth falls open, and your head tips back just slightly, just enough for him to see the ripple of tension through your throat. Your lashes flutter, lips quivering, body shaking as it's trying to hold on just a little longer. But you can't. It hits like a tidal wave.

"Satoru-" you gasp, and the sound of your voice like that entirely destroys something in him.

You're fucking falling apart right in front of him; eyes glazed, brows furrowed, mouth open in the prettiest, most helpless moan. You look like you're about to cry from how good it feels. Your thighs shudder, hips stuttering as you ride it out with stuttering, shaky breaths. But then you heard him, too.

"F-fuck- oh my god, fuck baby- "

You blink through the haze, phone still in your hand, but your jaw drops as he shifts the camera, propping it back up on a pillow. He’s cumming. Again. And giving you a whole front row seat to the spectacle.

He didn't even mean to, really. But then his hand is back on his cock as you came, barely stroking, just watching you with wide, tear glossed eyes. It fucking shoots out of him, messy and sudden and completely unprompted; ropes of it spilling over his stomach and chest again as his mouth falls open in a silent cry.

He pants like he can't catch his breath, like you knocked the wind out of him, moaning through gritted teeth. "You're so fucking beautiful, oh my god- I didn't even touch it that time, I just- your face, fuck- your voice, Jesus Christ baby-"

He's twitching through aftershocks, eyes locked on his screen, completely wrecked. And all you do is smirk, flushed and glowing, your voice still breathless, "God, you're so easy. Came again just from watching me?"

He groans, collapsing back against the pillows. "You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, trailing your fingers down your stomach as the bath water ripples gently around you. "Mmm. Maybe. But what a way to go."

He's still catching his breath. Hair a mess, eyes heavy lidded, lashes damp. You watch him collapse dramatically back onto the bed, face flushed, cum still streaked across his skin. "Okay," he wheezes. "Okay, princess. Get out of the bath. We're done. You win. I'm cooked. Fully destroyed."

You giggle softly, rinsing off in the warm water as he rambles.

"I want you to put on that sweater," he mumbles. "You know the one. The big knit one. Mine. The one that smells like me and makes you look stupid cute because it's way too big for you."

You smirk, standing and wrapping yourself in a towel.

"Put that on," he whispers, watching you through the screen with adoring, sleepy eyes. "And get in bed. I'm telling you a bedtime story."

You towel off and pull the sweater on; it swallows you whole, the sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing along your upper thighs. You climb into bed, still warm from the bath, and snuggle under the covers with the phone propped up.

"You comfy?" he asks gently. "You look so pretty like that. Soft. Safe."

"I'm comfy," you whisper, settling in. "What's the story?"

"The story," he hums, blinking slowly, "is about this girl I'm in love with who deserves everything. Like, everything. She's the prettiest, baddest, softest, smartest woman to ever exist, and I'm pretty sure she has me under some kind of sex magic spell, but I'm not complaining."

You giggle again, cheeks warm.

"And when I get home," he continues, voice dipping into something soft and and promising, "I'm booking you a spa day. No, actually. I am the spa now. I'm gonna turn our place into a spa. Hot towels, essential oils, deep tissue massage. I'll scrub your back with my lips if you want. Exfoliation by Gojo."

You snort. "You've officially lost it."

"I'm in love," he whines. "Different thing."

He rolls onto his side, eyes soft and sleep dazed. "You deserve the world," he murmurs. "Like, actually. Do you want it? I'll give it to you. Just say the word. I'll fly to space. I'll name a planet after you. You can take all of my generational wealth."

You bite your lip, smiling fondly. "I just want you," you say softly.

He goes silent for a second. You watch him blink like he's buffering. Then he groans, face scrunched. "Ughhhh, why would you say something that cute after I just came twice. You're gonna kill me. I love you so bad it's stupid."

You just hum, eyes fluttering closed. "Night, Toru."

"Night, baby," he whispers. "Dream of me. I'll be dreaming of you. And your bathtub. And your face. And your- okay I'm stopping. I'm stopping now."

The last thing you hear before drifting off is his voice, sleepy and warm.

"...love you. love you. love you."

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