zayne had a rough day at work—so many patients, too much paperwork, an excruciating surgery in between—he was absolutely beat. so when he trudges through the door with his tie loosened and very prominent bags under his eyes on his otherwise perfect skin, you tell him to go sit on the couch and relax while you finish whipping up dinner.
he wants nothing more than to shower the day off of him and crawl into bed with his wife, but you insist he needs to eat—the same way he would if it were you in his shoes. and because he can’t resist you—especially when you’re wearing a cute little apron—he begrudgingly obliges, letting his bag hit the ground and slumping on the couch, a single button on his crisp shirt unbuttoned showing off a beautiful sliver of skin.
he throws his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking of anything to take his mind off his grueling work, and he’s successful when his mind finally lands back on you. his sweet, sweet wife.
he tries to keep his thoughts innocent… tries not to think about you in your little apron looking like you came straight out of a male fantasy. tries not to think about all the things he could do to you. tries so hard not to think about how you could take care of his cock—the very same that’s growing harder and harder in his confined slacks.
he’s tired—can barely move, and yet, he still calls you to him.
“sweetheart,” his voice gruff, carrying a slight rasp as he beckons you. “c’mere please.”
a frown etches itself on your face, walking your way to him from the kitchen. “baby, ‘m almost done with din–”
you don’t get the chance to finish your complaint when he’s pulling you by the arm into his lap. a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sudden movement. then you’re settled, straddling the large expanse of his lap and you feel it.
he wraps his arms around your body, flushing you against his chest. his lips press against the shell of your ear and he whispers, “don’t care about dinner, just let me hold my wife, yeah?”
he swears it’s all he needs—to hold you close and inhale your scent—but his pulse is racing and blood roars in his ears all due to sheer desire and he can’t stop himself from shifting his hips the slightest bit.
you feel that, too. it elicits a sharp gasp.
you can almost hear the small smirk forming on his lips, “how was your day, beautiful?” he murmurs, hands moving to your hips.
and his movements are so calculated. from the way he ever so gently grounds you into him to the way his breath fans against your ear sending shivers down your spine.
“was fine…” you mumble, unable to stop the way you shift in his lap, body begging for more attention. “missed you.”
“yeah?” he asks, his voice is low and nearly unrecognizable. “missed you s’much more, my love. been waiting for this moment all day.”
you pull back slightly to look into his eyes. they’re tired. exhausted even, but they still hold that fire. that pure, burning desire. they’re his fuck me eyes. and, god, do you love them.
“zaynie,” you whisper, unable to trust your shaky voice.
he hums, and the soft, pitched noise has you leaking through your bottom, probably leaving a wet patch right on his pants. “tell me, sweetheart.” his hands squeeze at your sides and his hips slowly, but surely, roll into you. "what did you do today?"
you whimper, pussy clenching around nothing. "mmph, not much…" another roll, evoking another wet gasp. "fuck, just… cleaned, w-went on a walk—" he's pushing against you deeper now. you feel the outline of his cock push into you with every not-so-little thrust. "s-saw, saw that stray kitty in the park again."
"mmm, we should really take her in, shouldn't we?" he breathes, cock twitching at the sound of your voice breaking with every grind.
"zaynie," your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him back so you can look at him. his face is flushed, pink blooming over his cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears. you gyrate against him, pulling a breathy moan from your husbands hung open mouth. "dinner's gonna burn."
"let it burn then." he says, the words coming out in a hiss. "need my wife—we can order takeout later, i'll even cook, don't care. let me just have you like this first."
a beg. to the untrained ear, you can't hear it, but you know zayne like the back of your hand. you know that heat curls in his stomach, that tension lies in every bone in his body, that pure desire is the only thing he feels right now. the need to be close to you is strong, but the need to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking you till he's completely stress free and you're completely full of his cum is much, much stronger.
it's why all the fatigue evaporates and he can't stop himself from flipping you onto the plush couch— rubbing into you you like he might die without feeling the outline of your pussy through your soddened panties and leggings . he can't even be bothered to rid you of your clothes… he craves the release. he needs it more than anything. needs you more than anything.
you let out a pathetic needy sob, overly worked up by him fucking you through your clothes. "z-zayne, more—ugh, need more. t-take it off, please."
his cock twitches helplessly at the sound. it's what he's been missing while drowning in work for hours on end.
"sweetheart," he moans brokenly. "promise i'll fuck you just the way you like—just need you to take this first. you can do that for me, can't you?" he whispers and the word shoot an immense amount of heat straight to your core. "you can be a good little wife, right, darling?"
you can never say no to him, especially when he talks to you like that. you respond wordlessly, giving your husband what he wants—no, what he needs—and wrap your legs securely around his slim waist.
"that's it, good girl." and the way zayne sounds is the polar opposite of the weight of his words. his voice is frayed, desperate. "f-feels, ha, feels so good like this, yeah?"
his hips move faster, imitating the way they would if he were actually inside of you fucking you with full force. your body rocks with every thrust, every grind, your tits bounce underneath your apron, the couch—even as firm as it sits—sways with you in tandem.
it goes on and on. endless, whiny praises from him, sobbing pleas from you, your bodies rubbing against one another effectively ruining his dry-clean-only slacks till you finally feel that tight knot form in your lower belly.
and he's close, too, but zayne's been close to coming undone—he just didn't want to let go without you.
it happens so quickly that you barely have the time to process it. "baby, baby," you gasp, nerve-endings coming alive while your heart pounds at the speed of light. "'m—oh, fuck, baby. 'm cumming, cumming, cumming."
"cum with me, sweet girl." he wheedles, never losing his momentum for a second. he grinds you both through it till he feels your body pull taut underneath him. till you're shaking and sobbing and clinging onto him for dear life.
then he stills and his orgasm is explosive. he's vocal, moaning out your name mixed with all the sweet pet names he's given you. his cum leaks through his boxers and said dry-clean-only slacks, beading out of the fabric in a taboo, yet very erotic way.
it takes you both minutes to come down till the smell of burning food fills your nostrils.
then you hear the unmistakable beeping of the fire alarm.
"oh, shit."
KIT SAYS... they took my yaoi/bl app away from me. if you guys know where i can read my yaoi ad free, email me. (dm me or send me an ask, I'm begging i need to fujo out over hot men that kiss) oh and this isn't proofread lol
Do you think Dion would be attracted to someone just like him, or even fall in love with them? Someone who does the same things and also has the same attitude?
im not sure bc it was someone who had the same attitude as him then i assume they would just leave him alone and he'd just leave them alone too unless something happens that puts you two in the same situation tgt.
but ig i could see it bc his world is pretty chaotic and finding someone similar to him would be somewhat peaceful. but if you're also as closed off and emotionally unavailable then your relationship wouldn't really get anywhere :/
synopsis ✩ you tell your roommate, satoru, that you're going on a date. he doesn't like that, so he convinces you to stay home in the best way <3
You and Satoru are close.
Part of it is because you're roommates, the other part is because you're also good friends. Friends who have seen each other naked countless times during your experience living with one another. Friends who casually wear one another's clothes and do each other's laundry. Friends who casually talk about sex and hookups.
Roommates who occasionally hear each other moaning the other's name through thin plaster and then moving on to the next day like it never happened.
Casual, normal roommate things.
So, logically speaking, you thought it'd be fine to tell Satoru that you were planning to go on a date. You've talked about worse, so what's a little date? You haven't been on one in a while; there's no harm. It's light, fun.
And, assuming you know Satoru pretty well, you thought he'd cheer you on. Maybe make a crude joke about getting laid or using protection.
But thinking back on it, you don't think you should've told Satoru that you were going on a date. Not when your roommate is Gojo Satoru, aka the man who has always been oddly possessive of you.
So it really shouldn't surprise you when he interrupts you while you're getting ready for your date. You just didn't expect him to interrupt you like this.
"C-c'mon, baby…" Satoru's breath is hot on your ear, voice rough and breathless. His thrusts press you further over the edge of your vanity, jostling the plethora of products, "Who's that bastard, huh? Who's getting a date with you?"
"I-I, oh fuck, right th-there!" Your words catch in your throat, little huff and puffs of pleasure escaping rather than answers. You can't even think straight when his hips angle just right, threading his name from your lips with every drag of his cock gliding through your cunt—the noise adds to the already obscene mess between your legs.
"Yeah? Here too, huh?" Satoru purrs and presses closer to you, slithering an arm between your thighs before his fingers roll expertly on your clit, moaning in delight when your legs buckle. "Jus' needed someone to fuck you? Could've just asked, no need to meet some weirdo. Not like they can fuck you like this, huh?"
You squeal as you nod mindlessly, pushing back on every roll of his hips, and he somehow reaches even deeper like that. Every ridge and every aching throb of his veins rubs perfectly in you as he moans your name like a hymn. Hot against your ear and unabashed in its wanton way. And it sounds better than you can imagine. Clear and bright from the pleasure, unfiltered through plaster walls.
You're off no better than he is. It feels good. Really good. Satoru's skin sticks against yours, hot warmth spreads between you two, pressed close until you can't tell when he ends and you begin. It all whirls into a warm overindulgence of Satoru in ways you never thought you'd have him in, and the only thought that blares through the void of ecstasy is 'Satoru, Satoru, and Satoru.'
And you moan so prettily in his arms, drool slinging down your chin, smearing the glossy stain of your lipstick. Just a glance in the mirror and you can tell that you look ruined. Because of him. Because he's the one making you moan, and he's the one fucking you deep with every thick inch pulsating as it slips inside.
"'Toru—!"
"Yeah, baby, fuck, sa-say my name like that," his voice wobbles, hand trembling around your hip, grabby and desperately pulling you back to meet every cervix-kissing hump. “Who fu-fucking you this good. Not going anywhere tonight—shit,”
His lips find yours at the same time. Sloppy, messy, but almost gentle touches of delicate lips, completely different from the stuttering pace of his hips that reveal how close he is. The difference in sensation makes your mind go white, body shaking before you choke out Satoru’s name again, succumbing to the pleasure tearing through your system.
And, damn it, you’re so beautiful when you cum. You're utterly perfect when you let him fuck you through your orgasm, even as your legs give out, and he’s the only one holding you up like a lifeline. So pretty when you drool his name and your cunt flutters and squeezes around him like you don’t want him to pull out at all.
So Satoru doesn’t.
He doesn't even think he can when he's hurtled right down the edge with you. He cums hard. Thick and hot as it spills in flooding ribbons. His head whirls with the force of his climax, and he presses you both through it, breathing heavy into the curve of your neck until all he can register is the heat of you and the rush of passing ecstasy burning through his blood.
It’s only when you stop quivering in his arms and turn to kiss him that he relaxes. Despite it all, Satoru kisses you smugly—you can practically taste the pride on his lips as he slants his mouth against yours, tongues sliding, tasting the remnants of your lipstick for whatever man you were planning on seeing tonight.
But it doesn’t matter if you look a mess now, it’s not like you could meet anyone in this state.
With a sweet kiss to your temple, Satoru shoots you a toothy grin through the mirror, already rocking himself into your warmth again.
mdni. male solo masturbation (Caleb) he uses your panties. and he’s very much in love.
Caleb yearns.
He yearns, and he yearns, and he yearns, and he yearns. He feels it innately, an instinctual longing for your presence and heat—anything of yours. Does it with something deeply ingrained into him like a repeating code etched into his wires, and sometimes, he feels that is all he knows how to do. He aches for you in ways that are greedy and possessive.
And he knows it.
He misses you, too. Constantly. Feverishly. Thinks of you when you’re not around and sees you in every aspect of his mundane, bleak routine. It comes to the point where Caleb is positive that this pure, unadulterated love that festers zealous blooms in his heart is the only guarantee in his life.
Desire, too, follows him where you linger in his mind even when your presence is absent. Desire so prominent that it feels as if fire lights in his veins, crawling into his body as it comes to rest in every pump of his heart, eating at the cage of his ribs like the want itself can carve the bones away so his heart may reach yours.
It’s the same love and desire in him that leads him to your room in his Skyhaven residence. It’s a room he’s become intimately familiar with—holding your lasting scent and touch of color in his otherwise monotone house (it is a house and not a home, because his home will forever be where you are.)
Those very things lead him to the dresser by your nightstand, his hand stopping just before it reaches the handle, hovering over it for just a few seconds. Long enough to think about the simmering arousal in him, weighing morals and want. He thinks about you, as he always does.
Thinks about your smile and stubbornness. Contemplates how to protect and care for you in all the ways he no longer knows how to do. Wrestles his love and devotion. Turns you around in his mind, over and over and over.
And he opens the dresser.
Inside, right where he last left it, are pairs upon pairs of your panties. Some in comfortable cotton and some in sultry lace. Each and every one makes his pants unbearably taut and cock achingly hard.
His hand twitches, nails biting into the flesh of his palm, an automatic reaction to the flimsy articles of clothing that've been pressed flush against your most delicate parts. And the images it brings of you in his mind bite with a vengeance that stirs up the heat coiling low in his gut. You're seared into every neuron pulsing in his mind. Specifically, a visual of you—dressed in the lacy black pair he chooses out of the plethora.
The last time these panties were in his hands was when he last took them off you. Sliding them down your legs while you whimpered his name in whiny pitch and trembling breath. Unfortunately, he's washed them since then, and with it has gone your scent. But not the memories.
Now, those same memories flood his head as he collapses on your bed, sound mind muffled behind the hum of lust rushing through him. Once, he felt shame in doing this, rummaging through traces of you and indulging in his hunger. It used to be shame and guilt that ate at him early on in your relationship, dwindling as far back as your teenage years, but it's different now. This is love and devotion and desire. It's a reservoir of everything that defines his truest form. This is his rawest version—the one you love.
Caleb tugs his pants down just enough to free his cock—thick, heavy, and throbbing when it meets the charged air. The slick head drools with need as he drags his hot palm over it, sucking in a sharp breath at the touch. It'd be better if it were your touch over him, so, so much better. He wishes it were your warmth bleeding into his body, heart pumping in mirroring tandem against his, and flesh fusing into flesh until he can haul you into euphoric paradise with him, breathless and satisfied—that, to him, would be home.
But you're not here. And Caleb can do nothing but bury his nose into the pillow to catch the remnants of your scent, wrap the delicate fabric around his shaft, and soak the lace as he bucks his hips.
In his mind, it's you with him. A vivid, carnal fantasy that descends into his head, spinning mirages of you on your back, looking down eagerly at him while your legs bracket his broad shoulders. You'd thread your fingers through his hair, tugging insistently in that cute, needy way you always do, lashes fluttering and pleading his name before you guide him to where you want his tongue the most.
And he swears he can taste you on his tongue—after all, he remembers it well, he could never forget. Familiar sweet nectar pooling in his mouth that makes him salivate, humping fervently into the sopping lace. He'd eat you so well, always does. Sucks and drools on your clit to get you wetter, sloppier before lapping up the mess, spreading it over puffy folds and that delicate hole that oozes with flushed need. He knows exactly how you want it, knows the precise pitch and gasp and twitch you make when you're close. It's how he wants you, too. Always needy, always pleased for him.
Or he could have you perched on his lap, weeping cunt full of his cock. He'd sit back and watch you stubbornly struggle to ride him, your nails raking down his chest in delicious pain before you do that adorable scrunch in your features, batting your eyes and asking him to help. Because you need him—you need him to make you feel good. And it's what gets Caleb off the most.
He'd indulge, always indulges in your begging and whining. Hands latched to your hips, lips to your perky tits as he moves you up and down, listening to the symphonious squelch of your pussy sinking down on his shaft. You'd sound even better when his thumb finds your clit, circling it in tight rounds that make you cry his name and cling closer so his scent and touch cloud you fully. You'd be his, and you'd claim him more in every way he already is. Your love desecrates him completely.
"F-fuck…" He mutters the syllables of your name raggedly, like a devotee to an altar. It's similar, he thinks, to how he feels about you. You're his entire world; he orbits you, made from the same source, and everything you are, he is too.
His strokes fall off their rhythm, holding the lace tighter against his cock so the fabric bites roughly, running it over the sensitive head of his cock with a hissed sigh. The avid longing in his chest ricochets back tenfold as he grows closer.
… Caleb, I love you…
That's what breaks him. Your words that his mind conjures up in hazy, blurred ecstasy whispered so gently to him.
"I-I love you mo-more," he chokes out to the silence, words layered with croaked devotion that you won't hear, a guttural moan tearing through him as he comes in thick, hot spurts. Ivory ribbons soiling the black lace, seeping into the delicate threads as he shudders with searing release.
It feels more intense than usual. He cums harder than he normally does, spills more over lacy fabric and sheets before the quivering euphoria leaves him slumped.
After a long pause of heavy breathing and silence, Caleb looks down at the soiled black lace, and he laughs, the quiet kind of laugh that sounds more like a tired sigh than anything of joy. You'd tease him constantly if you found out what he does without you. You tease and tease and tease until you've had your fill. And if it made you happy, if it made you need him a little more, he'd let you. Always.
The besotted feelings he harbors for you feel like the only tether he has left sometimes; everything else is something he's buried away long ago. After all, you're the only thing he needs.
And maybe it's because he loves you a little more than you realize.
caleb and i were actually in the same class when we got our phds in yearnology
"You need to pay more attention to what you buy," Caleb's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. He holds your hand gently, his touch warmer than your skin. His thumb rubs against the ring, it takes Caleb a second to look at you again. "This looks like an engagement ring. People might get the wrong idea."
"I'm getting married," you finally manage to say it out loud. The world seems quieter now. "His family's here to meet you."
Caleb hesitates, his smile doesn't falter. "No. No, no, they're not."
You decide to married. Caleb has something to say about it.
❛ ⟡. o 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: pseudocest, afab!reader, mutual pining, cheating (on a third part), use of meimei/gege, explicit sexual content ft. oral (f!receiving), fingering, spanking (very light), mating press, unprotected sex, coming untouched, dirty talk, multiple orgasms. (word count: 7K. bare with me.)
You don't remember ever being this anxious.
Maybe later you will, you know you've been anxious before. Sometimes you had a reason to be afraid, sometimes your brain was just messing with you. There were many times you shivered, cold sweat running down your back and ruining your clothes. But it never went on for so long.
You undressed because of the sweat, fearing this white fabric might stain. After you started ironing it on your bed that you remembered about the guests downstairs. You were quick to lock the bedroom door, breathless after just a couple steps.
Usually, you wouldn't wear something like this. There's nothing wrong with the dress, you just wouldn't buy something so… coy. Formal, almost. Expensive-looking fabric with a modest neckline, the hem ends halfway up your ankles. Now you know ice white is a real color. It's a good dress. A good bride costume.
Maybe when you finally tell Caleb this feeling deep inside you will disappear. Your meimei is getting married, you practiced once more inside your head. Aren't you happy, Caleb?
You put on the dress again, fixed the tight necklace, and unlocked the door. Downstairs, you smiled at those that soon will be part of your family. His mother told you to call her mom. You felt weird, you don't think you ever called someone that. Besides a teacher at middle school, but it was an accident.
His parents gossiped about a neighbor you met once or twice. You relaxed when they simply continued their conversation. You couldn't deal with being center of attention any longer.
Arms locked around you, stopping you from searching for your phone. "Did you iron your dress again?"
"He's late," you whispered. "I was supposed to pick him up at the station twenty minutes ago."
"He's fine," your fiancee placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. "Doesn't Caleb usually walk from the station when he comes visit you? He knows the way."
"But it's different," you hissed. Sparing a glance to your in-laws, you saw how little attention they paid to you. You turned around to face him. "I want to be alone when I tell him."
You plan on driving slowly on the way back home. You know him. Caleb will need the time to let it sink in.
It was a dumb idea to hide being in a relationship for months. Caleb felt betrayed when you finally told him. And then you were… stupid. It shouldn't have taken you so long to realize complaining to him about your relationship wasn't the best choice. That's to say, Caleb doesn't think highly of your boyfriend.
Fiancee, you corrected yourself.
It's his fault, too. Caleb is strict. Always has been. Maybe you wouldn't have been afraid of his reaction if he hadn't spent your teenage years scaring all the boys that glanced your way. Maybe you wouldn't put on so much effort to tell him everything if Caleb didn't talk about your boyfriend as if he was something temporary.
Or maybe you're thinking poorly of him. Caleb only wants the best for you. Even when he was strict, even when you thought he was the worst brother you could have, Caleb always made sure you'd be happy. At your worst, Caleb has always been dependable.
The doorbell rang twice.
A bitter taste spread inside your mouth. Fuck. There was no point in lying to yourself, you knew it was Caleb waiting by the door. Your fiancee squeezed your shoulders, sitting beside his mother to give you the space you need.
You stopped before the door, seeing how those stupid white heels were already untidy. Shaking fingers grabbed the handle. You breathed in, staring at the green apple key chain Caleb gave you when you first moved. You could feel cold sweat accumulating on the back of your dress.
"Gege," your voice failed. "You didn't call me."
Caleb smiles slightly. "You're already taking care of dinner. No need to make you drive, too."
You step back, leaning more of your weight on your left leg. Caleb brushed his feet on the entrance mat, you're almost sure you gave him this pair of boots. "But I wanted to," you manage to whisper.
His smile is wider now. Caleb raises his right hand, a paper bag from a bakery you have to force yourself to ignore on your way work. It smells like caramel and apple. You drool without meaning to.
"Sorry, pip," Caleb teases. He closes the door before you can. "But I got your favorite."
"I need to-" you hesitate when Caleb hands you the paper bag. Your fingers brush against his when you grab it. How warm. "Caleb, I need to tell you something."
You rub your sweaty hand against your waist, certain that this dress will never be worn again. When you look at him again, you see Caleb's eyes following your hand. Caleb quickly focus on your face again, eyes clenching as he begin to joke about being underdressed.
Caleb stops himself mid sentence, eyes bolting back to your hand.
"You need to pay more attention to what you buy," Caleb's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. He holds your hand gently, his touch warmer than your skin. His thumb rubs against the ring, it takes Caleb a second to look at you again. "This looks like an engagement ring. People might get the wrong idea."
"I'm getting married," you finally manage to say it out loud. The world seems quieter now. "His family's here to meet you."
Caleb hesitates, his smile doesn't falter. "No. No, no, they're not."
"It's not a prank," you squeeze his hand. Caleb looks at the ring again. You take a step forward, placing the paper bag on the entrance table—right beside a photo of Josephine. "Aren't you happy for me?"
Caleb let go of your hand. "You're saying," his voice starts loud but he decides to whisper the rest. Caleb scrubs his wrist against his forehead."That you want to marry that… that boy? When did this-"
"Shut it," you hiss. "They can hear us."
You grab his hand now, squeezing it so Caleb wouldn't move away from you. Staring at his fingers intertwined with yours, you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes again. "Your baby sister is getting married. So put a smile on your face and say you're happy for me. I'm not asking for too much. It's okay if it's a lie."
As the seconds pass, you don't hear his voice again. You know better than to look at his face expecting to find a smile there. You're the one to put on a bright smile instead, so large it hurts your cheeks. So large the tears you're battling against will be seem as a sign of happiness by your guests.
You grab the paper bag and pull Caleb towards the living room. Caleb is too polite to cause a scene, that you know. He can pretend for a couple hours. If you can do it, so can him.
Caleb squeezes your hand. "I love you," he whispers.
That makes you stop. You close your eyes, repeating those three damned words inside your mind. Oh, how they haunt you. "I know."
You think you heard Caleb laugh under his breath. "I don't think you do."
--
Waiting by the door, you wave goodbye and listen to the smooth purr of the car engine. It's late. You close your eyes, breathing easier now that you're enveloped by a cold breeze. Your in-law drives away. Once his car makes a turn by the end of the street, your fiancee walks out of your home with his keys.
"Are you sure you don't want to sleep here?" You're not sure if it was a genuine offer. Part of you wants to runaway from the conversation you're about to have, the other thinks it's better to just get over with it already.
"I have an early morning," he says. He touches your waist, bringing you closer to him. "Didn't I told you not to worry about your brother?"
Caleb was always good at playing pretend.
You kiss his cheek, forcing yourself to smile. It was just a dinner and still… you're exhausted. You take a step back. "Call me when you get home."
"You know I always forget to."
When he's gone, you get inside and lock the door. Leaning your forehead against it, you close your eyes and try to calm yourself. It doesn't work. You check if the door was really locked and goes upstairs to the guest room. You can hear the shower running.
Caleb's clothes are folded carefully over an armchair, the bedroom smell like soap. You get out of those heels, leaving them besides his boots, and collapse on the bed. This pillow will probably stain with your make-up. You don't really care about that. Caleb is the only one who sleeps here, anyway.
Those past couple hours didn't work to make Caleb any more happy about your engagement. You know when he forces a smile. It didn't help when all that talk about grandchildren started. They laughed when Caleb said you were too young to have kids.
You'll be a good uncle, Caleb. You saw his eyelids twitching at that. Don't be overprotective of her.
You're almost falling asleep when the bathroom door opens. The idea of pretending to be asleep is tempting. You face Caleb instead, his hair humid and face tense. He doesn't say a word.
"They liked you." Most people do. There's a certain charm about him, something that makes people gravitate towards Caleb. "How couldn't they?"
Watching Caleb hang the towel on the coat rack, you sit up and wait for a reaction. Caleb takes his time, his limbs almost mechanic in their movements. He sits by the end of the bed and stare at his own hands, too far away from you.
It feels wrong. When Caleb isn't close enough. Like something's missing.
His silence goes on. You crawl on the bed, sitting right besides him. You lean your head on his shoulder and waits quietly. This time, you'll allow Caleb all the time he needs. He deserves some patience.
You don't know how long you two had been in silence by the time Caleb clears his throat. Fixing your posture, you search for his eyes. He's staring at his hands, you reach out for them and stroke his knuckles.
"You don't love him," Caleb stated, without any room for doubt. "You won't be happy if you marry him."
That makes you scoff. "So I don't love him now?"
"He didn't go to her funeral," Caleb looks at you. His words make your mouth dry. You move your hand away from his but Caleb holds it in place. "Josephine wouldn't approve this."
"He said funerals make him feel bad," you lied. Although it's not exactly a lie, since he did say that. The lie is you making it sound like an acceptable excuse. But you can't agree with Caleb. If you do, he'll never change his mind about this.
"Funerals make everyone feel bad," Caleb doesn't let you have this one. You stand up, too uncomfortable to stay in place. "I was there. You were there. People that cared about our family were there. And he wasn't."
"That was one moment in our relationship. One mistake, a single wrong call." You taste something bitter on your mouth. "Why would you think I don't love him?"
Caleb rubs his neck. You know he had a long week, all his past flights were on the longer side. He always calls you after landing.
"He didn't stay with you on the hospital when that wanderer pierced your lung," Caleb sounds annoyed. Like he's doing his best not to lose his patience. It makes your blood boil. "When was the last time he showed up for you? Put on effort?"
"I'm also not perfect," you shouted. Time passes and you keep on being the first to escalate things when you two argue. It only makes you more enraged. "How can I expect him to be when I'm not?"
"You should expect him to be perfect." Caleb goes after you, his voice is almost as exacerbated as yours. Caleb reaches for your shoulders, you move away from him. "You will share a life with him. How can you be so easy to please when it comes about choosing a husband?"
"Then I guess he's easy to please when it comes about choosing a wife," you snap.
Caleb hesitates.
"What do you mean by that?"
You take a step back, hands running down your hair. This bedroom feels too hot. You try to calm down when you notice that your hands are shaking.
"That you shouldn't put me on a pedestal," you confess. "I wasn't the best girlfriend I could've been. I turned off my phone when I didn't want to be bothered. There were times he annoyed me when all he wanted was to spend some time together. I've pretended to be on business trips so many times just to escape talking to him when he was sad. If his grandma died right now I wouldn't be the bigger person. I simply wouldn't go to her funeral because I'm not as good as you think I am."
You cover you mouth when you realize what you said. What a petty person you are. Didn't you just claimed it was an excusable mistake of his part? You know how horrible it all sounds. You know you should've been better. You know you could've been better if only you wanted to. And now that you finally said it out loud… it sounds like you can't stand him.
"You don't think he's the best husband I could have?" You breath in, body growing hot from embarrassment. "Maybe you're right. But maybe he's exactly what I deserve."
There are things you'd never say out loud. Things that can't be forgiven, things that can't be accepted. Everyone has secrets, at some point in live you have to learn how to keep them to yourself. Thinking what you do, wanting what you do… would people call you heartless for that?
Caleb runs his thumb against your cheek and that's when you realize you've started crying. He pulls you closer, hugging you so tight you feel like he could crush you.
"Do you love him?" Caleb's voice is so soft you could've mistaken it for a lullaby. He rubs your back when you sob. "You can tell me the truth."
People say your wedding will be the happiest day of your life. That nothing will compare. People dream about this. About finding someone that will go down on one knee to declare how much you're loved. About finding someone you want to share you life with.
You want that, too.
"No," you whisper, melting into his touch. Your voice is so weak your mind barely register it. "I don't."
"Be greedy, then. Ask for more than what you think you deserve." Caleb caress your head, fingers massaging your scalp. He sounds relieved. "When did you start accepting less than what you want, pipsqueak?"
You shove him away. Caleb stumbles, taken back by your reaction.
"Who's going to marry me I'm insufferable as you want me to be?!" You poke at his chest, rough enough for him to take a step back. "Who am I going to share my life with if I ask for more? I can't be alone forever. So what if I have to pretend with him? At least I have someone to hold me when I cry."
The first to yell, the first to push away. You were always the one escalating things when you two were younger. Caleb never got mad at you. Not even when you hurt him on purpose. Maybe it's because you were always the first one to cry, too.
"I'll do it," Caleb grabbed your hand. "I'll hold you."
That makes you laugh. Your vision blurs as more tears begin to spill. Hand fisted in his shirt, you pull Caleb closer and continue to shout at him.
"And will you wash my back next time I break an arm?" You can smell his cologne. This is a new one. "Tell me, Caleb, are we going to share a home now that we're both adults? Do you want to split bills and reform the backyard and go out to buy new wallpapers with me?"
His grip gets tighter. Caleb grabs your other hand, something in his eyes make you shiver. He's closer now, you realize when his warm breath reaches your face. Too close.
"When haven't I given you what you wanted?"
"There are things you won't. Things you shouldn't," your voice breaks. There are no tears left for you to spill. "It's been a long time since I accepted that you're my bro-."
"I'll give it all to you," Caleb promises. His body against yours feel so good. How could this be bad? Why should this be so wrong? "Tell me how to take care of you and I will."
When Caleb promises something, it's because he'll make it happen. And for a second, you believe him. For a second, you want to ask Caleb for all the things you never dared before.
You open your mouth just to close it again.
It all needs to end. This conversation, this night. You can't do this anymore. All you want is to be alone. So you say something Caleb won't be able to argue. Something he knows better than to entertain, that will make him let go of you. You tell Caleb a secret. The dirtiest one you have.
How heartless of you.
"Will you give me a baby when I feel ready?" The shock on his face makes you want to puke. "You told me to be greedy, to ask for what I want. Will you give me a family then? I want to marry someone I love, I want a crystal wedding at a fancy restaurant, I want to be surprised at mother's day and I want someone that will fuck me to sleep. Will you do that, Caleb? Will you fuck your baby sister because that's what she wants? Or will you finally understand you can't give me everything I want?"
Caleb shuts you with his mouth.
It's rough, like waves crashing during a storm. Caleb pressed your lips together, so harsh it makes you stumble back. But he's holding your hands tightly, keeping you locked in place. Your bottom lip burns when Caleb bites down, just like the skin in your hands that gets marked by his nails.
Caleb hungrily invading your mouth. You don't kiss him back. You don't have the time to decide what to do, your eyes are still open when you feel his tongue brushing against yours. Caleb let go of your hands to cup your cheeks, his touch warm and gentle but firm as he brings you closer. It feels like he's trying to devour you.
His eyes are open, too. They never looked this dark. Caleb never looked this… relieved.
"I'll give you everything, anything, you want," Caleb whispers, lips close enough to touch yours. His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "Your big brother will keep you completely satisfied. So think only of me."
You forget to breath, waiting for him to take a step back. Caleb doesn't move away. His eyes keep staring into yours. You give him time but Caleb doesn't seem to regret his words. To regret wetting your lips.
You shiver at that. Eyes softening, Caleb presses a small, tentative kiss on your lips. Caleb leans his forehead on yours. "Just depend on me," he says.
You nod.
This time, you close your eyes when Caleb kisses you. He tastes like the apple pie you shared earlier. His hand is on your nape, keeping you as close as possible. The other lands around your waist. Caleb steps forward, forcing you to move. The wall is cold against your back.
There's no space for doubt or hesitation anymore. Not when all you want is for Caleb to touch you more. You hug his shoulders, not willing to let go of him. You want to glue yourself to Caleb, keep him right next to you for the rest of your lives.
"When did he-" Caleb decides he rather suck on lips rather than talk. He traces kisses on your cheeks and licks at your jaw. His mouth guides him to your neck, a whimper almost escapes you when he bites it lightly. "When did he propose?"
You pull on his hair, not to make him stop but because you need to fill your hands with something. "On my birthday."
Caleb bites hard now. It makes you whine loudly, browns furrowing as you complain. His hands go to your hips, holding you in place as he moves away. "Caleb, what are-"
Something in your belly burns when Caleb knelt in front of you. He grabs your hands and put them on the hem of your dress. "Hold it for me," he demands hoarsely.
You swallow hard, doing as he said. He laughs a little and makes you raise your hands. It's hard to breath when you know he's seeing the white thong and how it's already damped. Caleb inhales deeply.
"Keep it like that for me," Caleb kisses your knuckles. "Were you trying to dress-up like a bride, princess?"
"Yeah," you bite your tongue. Caleb squeezes your thighs, fingers stroking them. "Wanted to look cute."
His laugh is breathier now. You fear he's going insane. "We'll throw everything away, pips. I'll get you a better dress, better heels, better panties. Just-just put this away with the trash, okay?"
Caleb places wet kisses all over your thighs. He doesn't hurry, fingers rubbing against the edge of your thong. You spread your legs open a bit more. His eyes are closed as he sucks on your skin, bitting and lapping at it like some type of animal.
Your skin burns a little. The ache of fresh, still forming bruises.
You shiver when he stops. You look down, eyes meeting with his. Those purple eyes are wide open as Caleb brushes his nose against your clothed pussy. He breaths in and you feel your face hotter now. Caleb inhales once more, you see him swallow. Did his mouth watered at your smell?
He pulls the fabric down by the lace, so slow you want to let go of the dress and do it for him. But you decide to behave.
His nose is hot against you. Caleb breathes again, he looks enamored by your scent. Caleb puts your leg over his shoulder, now giving him more space to see your bare pussy. You whine when he blows cold air against your clit.
There's no warning before he sucks, slow enough to make it feel torturous. Caleb's completely blissful. You can feel his spit running down your legs. Your clit throbs when his tongue latches onto it just the right way to make you close your eyes. Caleb seems so dedicated to make you feel good.
That idea alone makes you shiver. You imagine Caleb imagining you. What is he thinking about right now, with his mouth between your legs and your arousal palpable on his tongue? Does he think you smell good? Does Caleb like the way you sound? For how long will Caleb taste you on his tongue? You wonder what would he see if he just looked up at you. Will he remember this when you're not around?
Then you think about the past. Were there times he wanted to do this? Has Caleb ever looked at you and salivated? You imagine his self-control oscillating. You imagine Caleb wanting you so badly it hurts him. Caleb hard and leaking, never satisfied because he couldn't have you. You imagine him crying for you.
Your body leans forward as you cry out his name. It makes Caleb moan, tongue still discovering more of you. The vibration feels good. It's hard to breath now. Hard to imagine anything when you look down and see him lost on you.
"Caleb, Caleb," you chant. "I'm gonna- fuck, fuck, I'm gonna…"
It comes crashing down on you. Caleb holds you as you cum, your legs shaking and drool spilling from your mouth. You think Caleb says something but you can't understand the words. All you can do is drown on this feeling for as long as it lasts.
When you look down, his mouth is soaked. Caleb's face is flushed, eyes small as if he drank way too much. You can see his tongue, something drips from it. Catching your breath, you pat his hair. Caleb leans his head against your hand.
"I think," Caleb exhales. "I need to…"
His tongue is back on your lips. You whine, looking down at him. Caleb sucks, a wet sound echoing inside your eardrums. It makes your stomach burn. "Caleb, I already-"
"I'm not done with her yet," he says. Caleb kisses your clit so gently, hands groping your tights. "She loves kissing, huh? Don't worry, baby, I can hear you begging."
It makes you feel weak. Caleb gets rougher, tongue slipping inside of you. He curls it as his face rubs against you. It feels like you're not there anymore. Is just him and your pussy, the two of them getting along. It's too much, but you don't want Caleb to stop.
Caleb sink his teeth into your tight when you try to pull away from him. It burns. You see when your drool fall on his clothed back. You fist his blouse, eyes getting wetter as you rut against his mouth. Caleb moves away when you pull it, letting you take it off of him. The moment it's gone, he's back on tasting you.
Tasting her.
Back curling again, you almost lose your balance. Maybe you couldn't stand erect, maybe you didn't thought of doing that. You get your leg off his shoulder, you don't think Caleb notices it, and places your feet on the ground. Your hands find support on his shoulders.
"She tastes-I can't get enough, meimei," Caleb's moan against you. "Give me more, I need more."
"Stop, stop, Caleb," you moan. You feel your legs giving out. Caleb pins you against the wall, his evol making your body tremble. You can't think, can't breath, can't keep your eyes open. All you can do is let him have it his way. "Gege… hm, too much…"
When your mind calms down and starts working again, you realize his tongue is back on you. You push Caleb away before he can make your brain melt again. He falls on his back and it almost makes you feel bad for treating him so roughly. But you look at Caleb, at the smile on his face and the wet spot staining his pants, and you don't think he resents you.
Trying to make your way towards the bed, you take a step forward and loses your balance the moment your legs move. The words spins when your knees are about to hit the floor but Caleb uses his evol to make you land softly on his lap. His smile is closer to a smirk now.
"Karma," Caleb laughs. You do it, too. He pulls at the hem of your dress. "Feeling comfortable?"
Caleb holds you in place as he moves his hips to sit up. Forehead leaning on yours, his eyes are all you can focus on. His hands find the zipper on your dress, Caleb's fingers brush against your back as he opens it.
Wanting more than this, you grab the fabric to take it off. Caleb helps when your earrings get caught on the dress. You throw it away, now bare on top of him except by a necklace. Caleb paid for it.
You should've feel ashamed. What a mess you are. You're naked on top of your brother. Face wet with tears because of his tongue, pussy leaking on his sweat pants. Caleb stares at your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.
All you feel is empty. You reach for his hands, guiding them to your tits. His fingers brush against your skin, you make Caleb squeeze them. Caleb bites your shoulder, hiding his face from you. There's no hiding of the boner you're sitting on top of.
"Caleb," you lean your head on his shoulder. Be greedy, he said. Fine. "I want you to fuck me to sleep. Make me dream of you."
"Are you trying to kill me?" Caleb groan, you can feel how feverish his face is. "Don't say things like that."
Caleb holds you jaw to make you face him. How disgusting you are. Kissing your brother, sucking on his tongue like no sister should. You taste yourself on him. A mess of arousal and spit make your pussy feel cold even though your body burns just like his. You think you'd beg for more if Caleb wanted you to.
"When have i ever said no to you?" Caleb bites your bottom lip. "But you need to do something for me first, pips."
You pout. "I want you inside. Now."
Caleb laughs deliriously. "What a spoiled girl," he sucks your lip. "You got used to gege always giving you what you want. Can you this one thing for me?"
The pout is still there when you nod. Caleb smiles. "Give me the ring."
You don't understand. When your eyes focus on him, you follow Caleb's gaze to your hand. You take the ring off, sweaty fingers making it more difficult than it should've. You put it on his open palm.
Caleb search in his pockets. He opens his wallet, placing the ring inside it. You hold his hand before he could move away. There's a photo of you there. You don't remember when it was taken. "What will you do?"
"I'll return it for you," Caleb throws it on the bed, you feel the pull of his evol. You kinda wish he would do the same to you, but you don't feel like moving away from him now. "Because you will never see him again, right?"
You agree because you want to get Caleb out of his pants. "Never again," you answer. "Will you fuck me now?"
Caleb kisses your cheek. "Until you fall sleep, right?" You nod, watching his fingers play with the waistband. "I got you. Will make you cum over and over until you calm down, baby. So let it all out."
You whine when Caleb doesn't get rid of his pants. His thumb is on your mouth before you can use words to complain. He presses down and you think about biting it but Caleb just said he's gonna make you cum more. You don't want him to change his mind.
Sucking on his thumb, you hold on to his biceps and look into his eyes. Caleb groans. His long fingers tease your clit. Those fingers appeared on your dreams sometimes. His palm is long enough to press on your clit as he spread your slicky folds.
He's slow now, maybe worried you're too sensitive from your before. You watch as he moves. There's something hypnotic about watching how patient Caleb is. He takes time to explore all your spots, observing how you react to his touch. It feel like he's trying to memorize everything about you.
His fingers reach your hole. You realize now they're thicker than you thought. The stretch makes you whimper, you accidentally bite the thumb on your mouth. Caleb doesn't mind. You suck on them again, this time not to tease but as an apology.
You're so wet that it doesn't hurt when Caleb pushes his finger deeper inside. Your own digits can reach that far. His cock is fully hard beneath you now. You moan around his thumb, rocking your hips against his touch. The friction of your clit on his palm feels addictive.
"You're taking it so well, stretching so nicely around me," Caleb's licks from your shoulder to your jaw. "All that crying and yelling and that cheap ring around your finger just because I wasn't giving you what you needed, huh. My poor, needy baby."
Caleb takes his fingers off your mouth when you squeeze his arm. The sound you let escape makes you shiver. "Don't be mean," you moan, trying to get your hair away from your eyes.
"Why would I be mean with you?" Caleb asks, face inches away from yours, his eyes so attentive it makes you want to look away. He thrusts inside of you in a relentless rhythm. "I love when you act like. So spoiled, so pampered that you can't help but demand for what you need. I want you to cry and make a scene when things don't go your way. Be selfish, be greedy. Your brother will give you anything you want."
You sigh, embarrassed to hear all that. "Then I want another finger, gege."
This finger is longer than the last one. Your nails are deep on his shoulders as you try to stay still. It hits in a place that makes your back arch. Caleb takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw.
"She's so soft, meimei," Caleb coos. You clench around his fingers at that, moving your face to find his lips. Your tongue meets his in an open mouth kiss. "You like when I talk to her?"
You bite his bottom lip. "You're saying embarrassing things."
Caleb adds another fingers. He thrusts them inside of you, devouring each moan and whimper you can't hold back anymore. Caleb has a talent at taking you apart. "Feeling shy now?"
You shake your head. "No… you're embarrassing yourself. You want me that much?"
"So much and for so long," Caleb laughs into the kiss. "I hope I don't wake up from this."
"It's not a dream. I'm here."
You shake when a forth finger make its way inside of you. Your hips rush after this sinful sensation. "Most of my dreams are about you," Caleb bites your shoulder.
That makes you laugh. You try to say something but nothing coherent comes out of your lips. Your forehead bumps against his as you ride his fingers. It's too much, too fast, and it's still not enough. You're almost there but you can't reach it.
Caleb sucks on your earlobe, curling his fingers inside of you. It makes such a wet sound.
"Stop," you whimper. Caleb doesn't. "Stop, gege, stop, stop, I…"
"To think I trusted your choice to be his," Caleb whispers on your ear. "Look at you, riding my fingers and saying you don't want this. I'll make the decisions from now on, meimei."
You stop breathing as he drives you over the edge. He's precise, digits brutally hitting your g-spot with an easiness you never had. Caleb doesn't move faster and it makes you feel like you're going insane.
You close your eyes, body growing tense when you finally cum. There's not a single thought at your brain besides how good this feeling is. It's stronger now, it lasts for a little longer. Caleb continues to thrust inside of your pussy, prolonging it for you.
"Too much," you whimper.
"You asked for more and now acts like a cry baby?" You know that tone. When he teases without believing on what he's saying. "We should stop then, if you're already so tired."
You whine when his fingers leave you. "If you don't fuck me right now I'll go after him."
The moment you close your mouth you knew it was too far. Before you can take it back, his hand — wet with your own arousal — hits you across your face. The sound his fingers make against your cheek is more impressive than the slight burning you feel. It still makes you flinch.
Caleb cups your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Apologize," he demands, that same unnerving mimic of a smile back on his face.
You feel something wet rush out of you. "I didn't mean it."
Caleb places his hands under your thighs, nail digging into your skin. He shifts beneath you, using his evol to help him get up from the floor with you hugging his neck. He doesn't need any evol to be able of doing this, you know he lifts much more than what you weight.
"What should I do?" Caleb seems to be talking to himself rather than to you. "Wouldn't it be easier to just lock you away? That way you won't get any funny ideas. Then you'll be all mine."
You wrap your legs around his waist. Caleb walked out of the guest room, the cold air making you groan. "Don't be mad at me, gege. I take it back. I swear I'll never think about him ever again."
Caleb opened the door to your bedroom. He laid you on the mattress, you tried to sit up but Caleb pushed your shoulder to keep you lying down. "Will you forget everything about him? Get rid of everything that reminds you of him?"
You got used to seeing Caleb wear his pilot uniform more often than in casual clothes. It only made more evident how large his shoulders are, how reliable your brother is. You haven't seem the dog tag in a long time but you knew I'd be there. Your eyes follow the happy trail leading you to what's hidden by his sweat pants.
"I only want you," you whisper. His silence made your stomach churn. "I'm yours, only yours, I promise you."
"Who's saying embarrassing things now," Caleb says, although you can see his red ears. So he can get shy, too?
Caleb hooks his thumb on the waistband. He sighs. "Guess I teased you too much, huh."
Your mouth waters when he tugs it all the down. Makes sense why he was so decided to stretch you open. His cock is bigger than his fingers. Throbbing, it was too heavy to stand on its one. So big and waiting to fill you up.
You spread your legs for him, fingers working to open up your folds. You smile when his eyes widen. "I want it here."
Caleb knelt between your legs once more, towering over you. A large hand forced your thighs a little bit further, exposing more of your cunt for him. He decides to lean on the mattress, forearm resting beside your head. You look down when you feel the weight of his cock on your belly.
"That's how deep I'll be," Caleb ruts against your soft skin. You moan when your belly button disappear behind his burly cock.
Caleb kneels again, jerking himself against your pussy. It's so wet, the sound it makes feels so depraved. He hits your clit with his leaking tip before sliding it all the way down to your clenching hole. Your eyes are locked on him, watching the way Caleb drives his tip inside of you.
You sobbed. Caleb places his arms beneath your legs, leaning down and forcing your body to move with his. He's slow, devouring every little sound you make as he thrusts deeper into your pussy. You can feel every vein of his cock.
Caleb's all breathless, so focused on sucking on your tongue. What pitiful sounds you made, now pliant and behaved on his throbbing cock. Inch by inch, he tortures you. You're drooling by the time he fills you completely.
"You should learn with her," Caleb grins. He moves all the way out. You don't have time to complain before he slams it all the way in. "See how greedy she is?"
There's no way you can keep up with him. Your pussy is empty but you can still feel his length inside. Caleb moves his arms, placing his hands behind your knees. He fucks into you, forcing his weight on top of you. Completely folded, you realize you can't feel your legs.
You can't pretend to care about them.
It would be a shame to live the rest of your life without seeing how hungry Caleb is for you. He's taking care of you so nicely. Giving you more whenever you ask for it.
"It's too big, Caleb," you cry out loud. Your neighbors will complain tomorrow. "I need you-I need you to-"
"I know, I know," Caleb presses his hand on your belly. Something incoherent comes out of your mouth. "Breath for me."
You felt it coming. At the back of your mind, building it’s way towards you. You shake, drooling as your mind turns off. It wasn't a explosion, it didn't came with full force. It wavered over you, and it simply didn't stop.
Caleb feels deeper now. "I love you, I love you, princess-"
Your vision goes white, and so does your womb.
Caleb collapses on top of you, arms shaking beside your head. You feel his body moving with every breath, a motion that hypnotizes your own. You open your eyes when you feel empty, a sticky pool beneath your ass, and it surprises you to see you almost feel asleep.
He turns you around, hard nipples brushing against the sheets. Caleb moves your hair away from your sweaty face. He kisses your neck, moving to your nape and back. Your eyes close on its own.
You blink slowly. Looking back, your eyes widen at the sight of Caleb jerking off his still soft cock.
"Let's put her to sleep," Caleb says like it's a promise. He leans on top of you, rubbing his face against yours. Your heart melt a little. "I wonder what will you dream about."
You laugh at that. "Most of my dreams are about you," you get cozy on the pillow.
Caleb kissed your smile and you felt perfectly, utterly, completely satisfied.
Caleb squeezes your hand. "I love you," he whispers.
That makes you stop. You close your eyes, repeating those three damned words inside your mind. Oh, how they haunt you. "I know."
You think you heard Caleb laugh under his breath. "I don't think you do."
synopsis: on the drawn out nights when phainon is away from you—you are all that haunts his mind. so, when he finally comes home and you’re all curled up, drifting peacefully away in the land of dreams, phainon can’t help but give in. don’t worry though, he won’t wake you up. or, phainon fucks your thighs while you sleep because he misses you too much.
content. mdni afab + f! reader, somno, thigh fucking, pet names (darling, my love, my light etc.) kissing, idk this is rlly soft bc phainon is a loverboy ok?
w/c: 1.6k
a/n: there is a phainon-shaped hole in my heart and i miss him dearly :(
Phainon loves protecting his people. He loves hearing the joyous chiming of their laughter and seeing cheerful smiles that split across their lips. He lives to keep them safe and sound along with all the other Chrysos heirs. He adores his role and upholds it to the best of his ability.
But there is one thing that comes with his duty he doesn’t quite enjoy.
He’s been coming home late recently. The nights are drawn out, ever vigilant in defending the city. And while he adores protecting the citizens, sometimes, all Phainon ever wants is your company. One he just so happens to earn tonight when Alglea practically ushers him home.
The house is quiet when Phainon enters. Lights flicked off and the world ironed into silence in his little bubble of peace. Now, all he wants is you.
His armor is shed the minute he gets into your shared quarters—each article of metal and fabric that clumps to the floor takes a weight off his shoulders along with it, stripping down to his briefs before he drags himself to the bed like a man to an oasis.
It’s where you lay, too. His life—his elixir of joy—currently a small, clumsy mess of blanket and slumber, snoozing away peacefully in the dark room. He always tells you not to wait up on him—yet, you never listen. Judging from your outfit—one of his stolen shirts and cotton panties that mirror the shade of his eyes—the discarded book by the bedside, and the haphazard positioning of the sheets, it seems this night is the same.
Precious girl, he thinks, his beautiful girl. How did he get so lucky?
In an instant, it feels like every arduous night has been worth it. If it means being able to create a world where you slumber without worry, protecting your sweet smile, Phainon doesn’t mind. His exhaustion is replaced by a tender gaze and a soft chuckle before fixing the blankets over your form and curling himself flushed against you like a blanket of warmth.
You stir slightly with the new presence and comforting heat, whispering the soft, sleepy syllables of his name that makes his heart keen in his chest. It pounds away at the cage of his ribs—alive—he’s sure you can feel it thundering in his chest with how little space remains between you two.
“It’s just me, my love.” He murmurs in a low tremor, pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your soothing scent accompanied by a gentle kiss to the skin. A silent show to tell your unconscious self that he’s here. He’s home.
Even in sleep, your body knows him. Every curve, every breath, every soft feel of skin on skin. So you relax immediately, shifting your hips slightly in the smallest grind, and oh—
Phainon’s breath catches in his throat. He feels it all at once. A falter in his heart where it trips over itself like a hormonal schoolboy, stuttering out to your subtle movements. And pulse in his boxers, a twitch against your plush ass that sits directly onto where he’s growing hard underneath you. How easy he is, going without you for days, and only to get achingly aroused for you while you slumber. Certainly, if you were conscious, he has no doubt that you’d tease him non-stop.
But he can’t help the low whimper that bubbles when you move again, furrowing yourself deeper into his warmth, harder against his bulge with a drowsy sigh—a sound of heaven that reaches his burning ears and shooting straight southward.
He shouldn’t, he knows. You’re tired, he’s tired, and you both have all day tomorrow to indulge in each other’s bodies. How can he disturb your rest when you tried your best to stay up for him? The kind thing to do is to allow you to sleep in peace and enjoy the calming rhythm of your breath that he’s missed for days.
But Phainon is tired of being strong. Right now, Phainon is weak. Your lover is too weak to the way you fill up his shirt that you went to sleep in, shared fragrances whittling down his restraint. He’s too susceptible to how your body fits against his, the hushed snores you emit, and even the cute way your cheek nuzzles against the pillow.
“I’m sorry, my love…” He utters quietly into the slope of your shoulder. “I just… I need you, so bad. I missed you so much.”
His hands find light purchase on the soft of your hips, pulling you closer to erase all margins between you. Like any spare room is simply unbearable. He can’t hide the groan at the slight friction, precum beginning to collect in his boxers, soaking through as he rolls his bulge into the curve of your clothed ass, breathing and kissing reverently along your neck’s arch, whispering low praises though you can’t hear it.
Perfect. You’re simply perfection in everything you do, whether conscious or not. Sleeping so soundly and prettily, it makes him almost feel bad. Almost.
But then he starts pushing the sensitive, leaking head of his cock into the crevice of your thighs, slicking up the warm mounds before sliding his length into the pillowy flesh, and all resolve seems to simmer away.
“Li-like this, my dear. I’ll take care of you t-tomorrow, I promise…” Mouthing little marks into your neck and rutting subtly, Phainon speaks in a low tone, unable to hide the rasping ache trembling through his voice. “Ha… feels ‘s good… ‘m sorry, sweetheart… just—fuck—I missed you, missed you s’much.”
He could cry from this. Your thighs are so warm. Warm and soft like your body welcomes him home after days and nights away, so willing and ready despite being in slumber. It’s moments like these when Phainon is intensely reminded of how much he adores you.
He’s dripping enough pre that his dick slips and glides easily through your thighs and you’re blissfully unaware of the way he carefully bucks into you. Cautious enough not to wake you, needy enough that he chases the curling heat in his gut. It’s a little messy, the same way it is when you’re awake, too. The sound of repetitive ‘shlicking’ echoes throughout the room, mingling in with your calming breathing and his huffs as he pumps into the slippery mess between your legs.
Using you like this like this, sprinting after his orgasm, makes Phainon feel desperate—but he is. Phainon is just always desperate for you. Phainon is just a man in love.
He thinks about what you’d do if you were awake to feel his love for you. Would you turn and kiss him, thread your gentle hands through his hair, tugging him close and whispering for him to take what he needs? Would you reach over between your thighs and guide his cock into your delicate entrance, letting him push thick inch after inch in, and swallow all your sweet staccatos? Just the imagination causes him to leak even more.
Your panties are surely soaked by now. He makes a note to take you shopping soon, spoil you in new sets to take them off again that same night so he can love you—properly this time. Shower you in love the way he should and not rolling delirious thrusts into the heated gap between your legs. It’s a date, he thinks. It can be a date when he’s not so drunk on your slippery thighs squeezing perfectly around his girth, when he isn’t pressing himself against you like he’s trying to merge your souls together, and rubbing his tip along the lips of your pussy through your panties.
The turgid head of his dick catches on your clit, just barely. Just enough that he hears a drowsy mumble of his name slip from your lips, dream-littered and quiet—the sound is agonizingly beautiful, flawless in drowsy pitch, perfect to his ears.
“Phai…” Your little mumble is barely audible in the midst of his sloppy rutting.
“Da-darling,” his hips stutter along with his voice, a whiny cry that’s muffled into your shoulder, “so pretty, so soft, so good… mmph, ‘m close… you’re gonna make me cum…”
Phainon litters loving kisses into the space where your shoulder meets your neck, skyward irises fluttering shut as he succumbs to the tightness curling achingly. The kind of tightness that itches at the heat in his body, hips rocking fervently, twitching between wet mounds of flesh until he’s spurting warm, gooey ropes of white onto your thighs.
“F-fuck—” Broken moans and whimpers of your name escape with quick breaths, hot against your skin as his hips finally slow to a tender roll through your warmth, letting the final billows of his high wash over him, bringing a sudden exhaustion along with it. “‘M sorry, my love, I’ll take care of you tomorrow…”
With a trembling hand, Phainon swipes the fallen strands of your hair away from your warm temple, leaning in to press an adoring kiss to your cheeks—still none the wiser to his seed coating your lower half now. He doesn’t bother to tuck himself back in, content with your bodies staying fitted like two poles drawn together. Still perfect, still his. Even caught in rest, you know exactly how to help him. Truly, how lucky he has gotten.
To hold the weight of your precious heart and have his accepted by you—it makes every long night worth a thousand dawns.
“Goodnight, my light.”
To others, he is the one who bears the weight of the world, the one who will bring forth the first gleam of a blazing light. But here—with you in his embrace and breaths falling in sync—he is Phainon. And he is yours.
synopsis ✩ you tell your roommate, satoru, that you're going on a date. he doesn't like that, so he convinces you to stay home in the best way <3
You and Satoru are close.
Part of it is because you're roommates, the other part is because you're also good friends. Friends who have seen each other naked countless times during your experience living with one another. Friends who casually wear one another's clothes and do each other's laundry. Friends who casually talk about sex and hookups.
Roommates who occasionally hear each other moaning the other's name through thin plaster and then moving on to the next day like it never happened.
Casual, normal roommate things.
So, logically speaking, you thought it'd be fine to tell Satoru that you were planning to go on a date. You've talked about worse, so what's a little date? You haven't been on one in a while; there's no harm. It's light, fun.
And, assuming you know Satoru pretty well, you thought he'd cheer you on. Maybe make a crude joke about getting laid or using protection.
But thinking back on it, you don't think you should've told Satoru that you were going on a date. Not when your roommate is Gojo Satoru, aka the man who has always been oddly possessive of you.
So it really shouldn't surprise you when he interrupts you while you're getting ready for your date. You just didn't expect him to interrupt you like this.
"C-c'mon, baby…" Satoru's breath is hot on your ear, voice rough and breathless. His thrusts press you further over the edge of your vanity, jostling the plethora of products, "Who's that bastard, huh? Who's getting a date with you?"
"I-I, oh fuck, right th-there!" Your words catch in your throat, little huff and puffs of pleasure escaping rather than answers. You can't even think straight when his hips angle just right, threading his name from your lips with every drag of his cock gliding through your cunt—the noise adds to the already obscene mess between your legs.
"Yeah? Here too, huh?" Satoru purrs and presses closer to you, slithering an arm between your thighs before his fingers roll expertly on your clit, moaning in delight when your legs buckle. "Jus' needed someone to fuck you? Could've just asked, no need to meet some weirdo. Not like they can fuck you like this, huh?"
You squeal as you nod mindlessly, pushing back on every roll of his hips, and he somehow reaches even deeper like that. Every ridge and every aching throb of his veins rubs perfectly in you as he moans your name like a hymn. Hot against your ear and unabashed in its wanton way. And it sounds better than you can imagine. Clear and bright from the pleasure, unfiltered through plaster walls.
You're off no better than he is. It feels good. Really good. Satoru's skin sticks against yours, hot warmth spreads between you two, pressed close until you can't tell when he ends and you begin. It all whirls into a warm overindulgence of Satoru in ways you never thought you'd have him in, and the only thought that blares through the void of ecstasy is 'Satoru, Satoru, and Satoru.'
And you moan so prettily in his arms, drool slinging down your chin, smearing the glossy stain of your lipstick. Just a glance in the mirror and you can tell that you look ruined. Because of him. Because he's the one making you moan, and he's the one fucking you deep with every thick inch pulsating as it slips inside.
"'Toru—!"
"Yeah, baby, fuck, sa-say my name like that," his voice wobbles, hand trembling around your hip, grabby and desperately pulling you back to meet every cervix-kissing hump. “Who fu-fucking you this good. Not going anywhere tonight—shit,”
His lips find yours at the same time. Sloppy, messy, but almost gentle touches of delicate lips, completely different from the stuttering pace of his hips that reveal how close he is. The difference in sensation makes your mind go white, body shaking before you choke out Satoru’s name again, succumbing to the pleasure tearing through your system.
And, damn it, you’re so beautiful when you cum. You're utterly perfect when you let him fuck you through your orgasm, even as your legs give out, and he’s the only one holding you up like a lifeline. So pretty when you drool his name and your cunt flutters and squeezes around him like you don’t want him to pull out at all.
So Satoru doesn’t.
He doesn't even think he can when he's hurtled right down the edge with you. He cums hard. Thick and hot as it spills in flooding ribbons. His head whirls with the force of his climax, and he presses you both through it, breathing heavy into the curve of your neck until all he can register is the heat of you and the rush of passing ecstasy burning through his blood.
It’s only when you stop quivering in his arms and turn to kiss him that he relaxes. Despite it all, Satoru kisses you smugly—you can practically taste the pride on his lips as he slants his mouth against yours, tongues sliding, tasting the remnants of your lipstick for whatever man you were planning on seeing tonight.
But it doesn’t matter if you look a mess now, it’s not like you could meet anyone in this state.
With a sweet kiss to your temple, Satoru shoots you a toothy grin through the mirror, already rocking himself into your warmth again.
