This is his absolute favorite. No question. No competition.
You're on your back. Thighs pushed up to your chest, knees hooked over his shoulders or pinned by his hands. Folded in half. Completely exposed. Completely helpless. You can't move. You can't close your legs. You can't do anything but take what he gives you.
He looms over you, arms braced, face inches from yours. The eye contact is mandatory. He wants to watch every flicker of pleasure, every wince of overstimulation, every tear. He wants you to see him seeing you.
"Look at me." He says it every time. Grabs your jaw if you try to turn away. "I said look at me. Don't you dare close your eyes."
The depth is punishing. He's not a small man, and in this position, there's nowhere for the pressure to go but deeper. He knows. He grinds instead of thrusts sometimes, slow circular movements that press against your cervix and make your vision blur. He watches you struggle to keep eye contact through it. Smiles when you fail.
He talks the entire time. "This is what you're for. This is all you're for. Say it. Say what you're for."
He doesn't stop until he's finished inside you—he never pulls out—and then he stays there, buried deep, letting you feel every pulse while he watches your face. Sometimes he stays inside until he softens, just to prolong the possession. Just to remind you that even after, you're still full of him.
2: From behind+face down
His second favorite. The opposite of the mating press in one key way: no eye contact. No faces. Just your back, your hips, and his hands.
He puts you on your stomach. Hips propped up on a pillow or his hands, ass in the air, face pressed into the futon. Sometimes he pushes your head down further. A hand on the back of your neck. Not choking. Just... holding you there. Reminding you of your place.
This is the position for when he's frustrated. After a bad day. After clan politics have drained his patience.
He's rougher like this. Grips your hips hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises. Sets a pace that's punishing. The sound is obscene—skin on skin, your muffled cries, his low grunts that he doesn't bother to suppress.
He likes the view. The curve of your spine. The way your back arches. The way you grip the sheets. Your body is a landscape and he's admiring his territory.
He'll press his thumb against other places sometimes. Just resting there. "Maybe next time," he'll murmur, and you clench around him involuntarily, and he laughs that low, cruel laugh.
Afterwards, he leaves you face-down, messy, dripping, while he cleans himself off. "Don't move. Stay just like that. I like seeing my work."
3: You on top+facing him
Rare. Earned. Usually reserved for when you've been exceptionally good—or when he's feeling lazy and wants entertainment.
He lies back. Arms behind his head or resting on your hips. Lets you do the work. Watches you with that cold, evaluative stare.
"Go on. Show me how badly you want it."
This is a performance and you both know it. He critiques your technique. "Too slow. You're not even trying." "Too fast. Don't rush. You'll finish before me and then what use are you?"
He likes watching your body move. The bounce of your chest. The ripple of your stomach. The way your thighs tremble when you're getting close. His hands roam lazily—groping, slapping, pinching. He treats your body like his personal stress toy.
But the real reason he likes this position is the control inversion. You're on top, but you're not in charge. He controls the pace by gripping your hips and stopping you. He controls your orgasm by denying permission. He controls the depth by shifting under you. You're riding him, but he's still the one breaking you.
"You think you're in control up there?" He'll ask, voice lazy, one hand sliding up to grip your throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. "You're never in control. You just forget sometimes. I'm reminding you."
When he gets close, he takes over. Grips your hips. Pounds up into you from below. The angle hits deep and you collapse forward onto his chest, and he holds you there, arms wrapped around you, fucking into you while you gasp against his neck.
It's the closest thing to intimacy he allows. He'd never call it that.
4: Against the wall
Impatience. Urgency. The rare moments when even his control slips.
He backs you against the nearest wall. Hoists you up. Your legs wrap around his waist because there's nowhere else for them to go. He pins you there with his body weight, one arm under your thighs, the other braced against the wall beside your head.
He doesn't even undress fully. Just shoves fabric aside. Just enough access. It's almost impersonal. Almost violent.
"You were making eyes at me all through dinner. In front of the elders. Shameless." He's growling against your ear. His breath is hot. His teeth graze your neck. "You want to act like a whore? I'll treat you like one."
The angle is slightly different like this. Shallower in some ways, but the friction is intense. He's pressed so close, pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust. It's overwhelming. Your back scrapes against the wall. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He doesn't care about the marks.
The risk is part of it. Servants could walk by. Elders could be in the next room. Anyone could hear. He doesn't cover your mouth. If anything, he wants them to hear.
He finishes hard, pressing you flat against the wall, buried deep, mouth on your throat. He stays there for a moment, breathing hard. Then he lowers you to the ground. Adjusts his clothes. Walks away.
"Don't be long. The meeting resumes in ten minutes."
5: On your knees+mouth only
He sits. Stands. Leans against a wall. It doesn't matter. What matters is you. On your knees. Looking up.
He likes the visual. The collar around your throat. The angle of your neck. The way your hands rest on your thighs or behind your back—where he told you to put them. The eye contact is mandatory here too. He wants to see your face while you service him.
He doesn't thrust into your mouth—usually. He makes you do the work. "Show me how grateful you are. Show me what that mouth is good for besides whining."
He comments throughout. Clinical observations. "You're getting better at this. Practice helps, I suppose." "Too much teeth. Do it again. Properly." "Look at you. Drooling. Messy little thing."
Sometimes he finishes in your mouth. Sometimes he pulls out and finishes on your face or chest. He decides in the moment based on whim. Either way, he expects you to stay still, stay kneeling, stay grateful.
"Clean me up." You do. Gently. Thoroughly. He watches the whole time. When you're done, he pats your head once. "Good pet."
6: Bent over+face down
You're face-down, ass up, cheek pressed against whatever surface he's chosen—futon, floor, desk, wall. He enters from behind, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other planted beside your head or fisted in your hair.
He talks during it. Of course he does. Clinical observations delivered in that bored, cutting voice. "You take me so easily like this. Almost like you were made for it." "Stop clenching. I didn't tell you to enjoy it." "You're dripping down your thighs. Disgusting. Clean that up when I'm finished."
Sometimes he pushes your head down further. Forces your spine into a deeper arch. Makes you present yourself more obscenely. "Better. Stay like that. Don't move until I'm done."
He finishes inside you more often than not in this position. It's efficient. It's possessive. It leaves you full and dripping while he straightens his clothes and walks away.
Warning: vulgar language, smut (literally right at the beginning 😀), gossiping maids, its 2 am pls excuse any grammar mistakes...
Synopsis: You and Zuko are in your early years of marriage. You’re a young couple with copious amounts of energy, when you two are alone intimacy is bound to happen. But what happens when you get a whisper of complaints from the palace workers. (2.3 k wc)
Your toes curled tightly, digging into the bed as your back arched off the silk sheets. Your eyes rolled back, an overwhelming wave of pleasure shooting through your body.
Your husband’s head was buried deep between your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as his tongue worked against you. Your breathing was labored, this was your fourth orgasm of the night, and he hadn’t given you a single break.
He pulled back with a quiet gasp for air, his fingers now taking place of his tongue, steady and relentless.
"Come on baby, I know you're close gimme one more and i’ll let you go, promise." You whimpered gripping the sheets below you as your body tensed from the pleasure.
He pressed a kiss to your thigh before diving back between your thighs mouth focusing on your swollen sensitive bud with renewed hunger. A sharp gasp tore from your lips at the sudden rush of pleasure.
Your lower stomach tightened, your hands moving from the sheets to his dark hair, gripping tightly.
“Zu–Zuko, please… I’m close!”
He kept the same pace. His amber eyes flicked up to watch you, hungry and intent, while one hand held your hips in place the other busy with two fingers shoved inside you pressed against your sensitive spot.
Your breathing quickened, your moans rising higher, more desperate.Your eyes squeezed shut so tightly you saw stars.
“Please— f-fuck, I’m close, I—” Your words broke into a mix of a groan and a cry as your body finally gave in, the climax hitting you all at once as warm liquid squirted out pooling below you. Zuko didn’t stop, he helped you through it, letting you ride out every last wave.
As it passed, your grip on him loosened. Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to steady your breathing.
When you finally looked down, his cheeks were flushed deep red. His bun had come loose, strands falling around his face. His lips were swollen and glistening as his chin dripped your juices. His expression low and satisfied. He looked unfairly hot like that.
His breathing was heavy as a tired smirk tugged at his lips.
“You did well, baby.”He peppered a few soft kisses along your inner thighs before pushing himself up and disappearing into the private bathing room.
You closed your eyes, feeling the adrenaline fade as exhaustion crept in. Sleep was just beginning to pull you under when a warm sensation between your legs made you jolt slightly.
“Shh… it’s okay. I’m just cleaning you up.”
You were too weak to respond, your body completely spent.
At some point during the night, Zuko moved you, stripped the bed of the ruined sheets, and settled back beside you, pulling a thick quilt over both of you.
The last thing you felt was the warmth of his body pressed against yours, soft kisses trailing along your shoulder and temple as sleep finally took you.
•••
The next morning, you woke up still wrapped in his arms, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat. You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.
Ever so gently, you shifted, propping your chin against him so you could watch him sleep. He looked so sweet and peaceful like this it was almost impossible to see him as the man who had ruined you the night before.
You giggled to yourself as you began pressing more kisses against his warm skin. That seemed to stir him. He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open, and the moment they found you, he smiled.
“You’re awake earlier than normal. I figured you’d be out for the rest of the day,” he teased.
You rolled your eyes. “Ha, you think you’re that good?” you shot back, already knowing you’d just gotten yourself into trouble.
A look of mock offense crossed his face before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. His bare chest pressed against yours, strong arms caging you against the bed.
“You’re telling me you can go again? Already?”
You smiled, craning your neck up just enough to brush a teasing kiss against his lips.
You felt him twitch against your bare thigh, and you smirked into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.
His hands slid down your body, gripping your thighs and guiding them around his waist as he pressed himself against your bare core with intention. You could feel him getting harder as a soft gasp left your lips.
You were deep in your morning make out session when a knock sounded at the door.
“Fire Lord Zuko, you have a meeting with the general and urgent letters from the other nations. You are needed in the council room immediately.” That voice belong to his annoying Grand Steward who somehow knew how to ruin the mood every time, always managing to find you two when you run off.
You were reluctantly pulled back to reality. Zuko broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You let out a small giggle, your hand settling against his chest.
“Come on, maybe we can have breakfast together before you have to attend endless meetings today.”
You gave him one last kiss before he rolled off of you.
Before either of you could react, the doors slid open, startling you both. You scrambled to grab the blanket, covering your naked body only to realize it was your Head Handmaid, Akani. She was an older woman who was like a second mother figure to you, she always wore a scowl despite having a heart of gold. Once your mother’s head handmaiden, she had come with you when you became the Fire Lady.
Behind her stood your three ladies-in-waiting, along with three of Zuko’s personal attendants, who remained turned away by the door.
Akani approached the bed, holding out a robe. She handed it to Zuko, her expression unreadable. You knew she had been doing this for years, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.
Zuko awkwardly cleared his throat. Akani rolled her eyes, gesturing for the girls to turn around. They did so, giggling quietly.
He quickly stood, wrapping the robe around himself, moving so fast it was almost comical.
As he left, the women continued to giggle amongst themselves. You lay there, utterly embarrassed as Akani fixed you with a look.
“Akani—”
“A bath, shall we?”
You sighed, nodding.
•••
Later that evening, you were headed to your own separate meeting. The New Year’s festival was around the corner, and you were in charge of planning and hosting. You didn’t feel like putting on your formal wear, so you asked to be dressed in a robe with muted reds adorned with gold stitching, cinched at the waist with a matching belt and few pieces of jewelry.
As you walked down the hall, you tried to keep a straight face, but your calves and thighs burned with each step you took. You made a mental note to get back at Zuko later that night.
As you approached the door, your attention was caught by the fairly loud whispers of the servants inside. You held up your hand, stopping the guard from announcing your presence.
A young woman’s voice spoke, “They were so loud last night the guards heard them all the way down the hall.” A few giggles followed.
“I heard them a few days ago in the throne room Lord Zuko was incredibly loud. He was basically screaming her name.”
“I’m surprised she’s not pregnant yet. They do it any chance they get I don’t know how she’s not broken in two.”
“The laundry maids say they have to change their bedding so often, it’s ridiculous. Sezei says her forearms have grown three times in size because of how much washing they have to do.” Your entire body began to burn with embarrassment.
“No way!” another girl giggled. “One guard claims he caught them naked in the river near the waterfall, late at night.” Gasps erupted throughout the room.
“They say the flames throughout the castle will flicker uncontrollably when Lord Zuko—”
Akani barged past you angrily, sliding the doors open. “Have you all lost your senses, speaking of the Lord and Lady in such a manner?!”
You swallowed thickly, gripping your long sleeves in your fists. Your body was frozen in discomfort. The girls squealed like children caught by their parents, dropping to the floor, bowing and apologizing profusely. You dismissed them with a silent wave and they scurried away.
The meeting was a blur you couldn’t focus, not even a little. Their words clung to you, replaying over and over in your mind. All you could think about was Zuko and you.
You were from a noble family. You knew servants gossiped it was inevitable, but never like this. Never about you, and never in such detail.
Yet somehow, that made the burn of embarrassment settle into something deeper… something harder to ignore.
•••
As the sun set, you went outside to clear your mind but that didn’t help. With each servant or guard you passed, you found yourself wondering who had witnessed you and Zuko’s more…intimate moments.
You couldn’t even be mad. The two of you had been reckless when it came to your desires.
As the warm wind brushed against your cheeks, familiar hands gently wrapped around your waist. Your body subconsciously relaxed into him.
“Hey, beautiful.” Zuko trailed kisses up your neck. You smiled, tilting your head to give him more access until you noticed the guard across the courtyard. You took a sharp breath and gently pushed him away.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” you whispered, looking down in shame.
Zuko tilted his head, confused. “What’s the matter?” You sighed, taking his hand and leading him back inside to your bedroom.
After explaining the fiasco from earlier in the day, Zuko sat in front of you in silence. His cheeks held a faint pink tint as he sank into thought.
“I never thought about anyone hearing us. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you…”
“No, I— ugh. In the moment, I was ashamed and embarrassed I could barely move. Akani had to come to my defense, but… I don’t know.” You dragged your hands down your face, trying to find the right words.
Zuko chuckled softly, reaching out to take your wrist. You looked at him with a pout.
“Listen, if you’re bothered by what they think, I can have them dismissed while we participate in our…activities.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “No need. It’s just— it was just jarring to hear it firsthand.”
He gave you a gentle smile, cupping your cheek in one hand. You happily leaned into his warmth.
“You know… if they want to listen, let’s give them a show.” He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye.
You sat there, giving it some thought. You had always been known as a poised, intelligent lady from a noble family— well respected, well mannered. What if word got back to your parents about how undignified you’d been behaving? You would be mortified the next time you visited.
Sex was meant to be shared between partners— husband and wife, not….oh fuck it. You were already married, so what the hell?
A small smile crept onto your lips as you nodded in agreement. Fine, if they wanted to eavesdrop then let them hear EVERYTHING.
•••
From late that night into the early morning, you spent hours tangled together, making love. Your sweaty bodies intertwined kissing, biting, pulling, teasing— your lewd sounds echoing faintly through the palace. From the bed to the floor, the balcony to the wall, neither of you stopped until exhaustion finally claimed you both, and you fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
The next morning, you woke with a soft smile, draped across your husband’s chest, the two of you tangled in sheets on the floor.
“Morning, sleepy head,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips though his eyes remained closed.
“I’m hungry… wanna eat?” He nodded lazily.
Your morning had been perfect so far. You dressed yourself in quiet before joining him for breakfast.
It was simple but divine light fish with rice, fresh fruit, and hot tea. The two of you spoke easily, drifting from meetings, to the New Year’s Festival, to whatever leisure the day might allow. You were happy (sore) and completely worry free.
Your handmaiden, Akani, entered the dining area, your ladies just behind her.
“Good morning, my lady. My lord,” she greeted, bowing gracefully.
You smiled. “Morning, Akani. Morning, girls.”
There was a small silence, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she straightened. A faint, almost knowing smile tugging at her lips.
“I trust you both slept well?”
You opened your mouth to answer, then paused. Something in her tone made it clear she knew. She always knew.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “…we did.”
A quiet shuffle came from behind her one of your ladies suddenly very interested in the floor. Akani continued smoothly, “I’ve taken the liberty of having your chambers thoroughly refreshed this morning.”
Your brow lifted. “Refreshed?”
“Yes, my lady.” A beat. “Very thoroughly.”
Heat rushed to your face, your hand instinctively lifting toward your neck only to freeze when you felt the faint tenderness there. Beside you, Zuko picked up his cup suddenly taking interest in his tea swirling around. You turned your head just enough to catch the faintest hint of red creeping up his ears.
They heard. Good.
Akani’s eyes flicked between you both, entirely too composed. “May I speak freely?” You nodded in approval.
“I do hope your shared enthusiasm did not leave you both too fatigued for the day ahead.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting a smile. Zuko however, straightened slightly, setting his cup down with forced calm.
“Thank you for your concern. We are perfectly capable of attending our duties.”
There was a brief pause then, almost imperceptibly, his chin lifted just a fraction. You bit the inside of your cheek, barely containing your amusement.
Akani inclined her head. “Of course, my lady.” She reached forward to adjust your hairpiece, that same knowing smile lingering, before bowing and taking her leave. You leaned back slightly in your seat, finally letting your satisfied smile slip free as you reached for your tea.
Synopsis: You were happily married to your husband, Toji. You two had two kids, and life was perfect. That is, until you decided to start dinner early, and you found a gun in the cabinet. You decided to send your kids to your mothers to talk to Toji. Only, it doesn't go as you planned
Content Warning: Non-con, begging, crying, gun play, non-con, pussy eating, breath-play, choking the reader unconscious, pet name (Doll), piv, reader gets fucked with the gun, degrading praise, non-con!!!
Now Playing ---- Closer By Nine Inch Nails
a/n: Hey guys... So quick heads up, if you didn't read the synopsis, or the content warning, or see the poll I posted, this story is really dark and possibly triggering to a lot of readers. It was a little difficult to write, but the poll I posted came up to 50/50, so I'm taking a chance, and hopefully this doesn't bite me in the ass afterwards. But please read this with a lot of caution in mind. Anyways, this is not proofread, and comment 🎫 if you wanna be in a taglist for Toji. Enjoy! xx
You never knew your husband was into some shady stuff for work. I mean, did he work at odd hours, coming home soaked in something, but assuring you that he was fine and needed a shower. But when you found a handgun in the bottom kitchen cabinet, you were angry and confused. You sent the kids to your mother's house and awaited Toji’s inevitable arrival home. When he walked through the door, his muscles flexed before relaxing. “A fucking gun, Toji?!” His body tensed upon hearing your voice from the darkness, before relaxing once he registered that it belonged to you.
“What’re you talking about, Doll?” He asked, slipping off his shoes and putting on his house slippers before dragging his feet along the hardwood floors. You threw the gun at his feet, forcing him to stop. “Why is there a fucking gun in the kitchen cabinet?! And the bottom one at that? What if Megumi or Satoko found it?” You shouted, the mere thought of them playing with a gun and it accidentally going off; it made your heart sink. “Well then, good thing you found it, yeah?” Toji said, picking up the gun, checking it for any damage before walking further into the house, as if there was nothing wrong with having guns around a very adventurous four-year-old and a seven-year-old.
“You don’t see the problem with this?!” You shouted as you stormed after him. You were fucking fuming at how nonchalant he was being about the situation. Toji shrugged before saying, “Not really. I mean, the kids are safe and healthy last I checked, so what’s the problem with a gun in the house?” “What if the kids found it? Started playing with it, and one of them got hurt?” Toji groaned. “Doll, I work for some fucked up people. People who will come in guns blazing with no regard for you or the kids. So the gun stays, non negotiable.” You scoffed. “I can’t fucking believe this. I’m going to my mothers. I can’t-” Toji grabbed you by the neck, pulling you closer to him, practically giving you whiplash. “You’re not going anywhere, Doll. I mean I had a hard day at work, haven’t seen you and you’re getting pissy over a gun that the kids didn’t find. Hell, the gun’s been there since we moved in last year. Now please, relax and give me a kiss”
You were silent, but he could tell you were angry as you tried to get out of his grasp and he only threw you onto the bed as he took his shirt off. You slid off the bed and tried to exit the room again, but Toji pushed you back onto the bed, straddling your hips, keeping you on the bed. “Toji, stop it. I’m not fucking you right now and I’m going to my mother’s for the weekend.” He laughed, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I’d love to see how you do that. I haven’t seen my wife in a week and you want to run off to your mother’s over a fucking hypothetical? I’ve been stuck in a hotel with another dude. Couldn’t even jerk off to the pretty pictures that I take of you.” Your brows furrowed. “You take pictures of me after we have sex so you can jerk off to them?!” You began fighting him, not knowing what else to do. Although, it was pointless. The man was twice your size and too much strength for you to fight him off of you.
Trying to get yourself free, when suddenly his large, rough and calloused hands wrapped around your throat, choking you and his other hand pressed the gun to your head, keeping you still.
Your throat burned and you were helpless under him. Toji finally let go, and you coughed, hard, trying to pull any amount of air back into your lungs. Toji pulled the rest of his clothes off, before taking off your pajama pants and he climbed back onto the bed, prying your legs apart and slinging them over his shoulders. “All you need is a little attention, yeah? Pussy missed me so much it’s making you crazy, Doll” You tried to squirm and get away, but he put the gun down, his hands kept you firmly in place. “No, Toji. Stop it-” You said and he dragged his big wet tongue all over your pretty cotton panties.
“Stay still, pretty.” Toji said, pulling your panties to the side before taking your clit into his mouth, causing your back to arch as you tried to fight him off once again, but his large hands reminded you how much bigger and stronger than you he was. Your heels dug into his back, trying to push him away, but he continued to hold you down, continuing his assault on your poor clit. You whined, eventually stopping to attempt an escape and giving up on your futile attempts to escape.
Toji smirked before saying “Finally. Let me do what I need to do, Doll.” He buried his face into your cunt, watching as you tried to act as though it didn’t feel good, but Toji was confident in his abilities to make you come over and over again with just his tongue. After all, because he was good with his tongue, that was one of the reasons you married and had kids with him. Soft whimpers and pleads left your lips as Toji held you down, his hand itching for the gun once more.
He reached up, grabbing the gun. Your body tensed and he smiled, tapping the barrel of the gun against your saliva soaked pussy. You jumped before saying “Stop. What’re you doing?!” Toji didn’t respond, still sucking feverishly at your clit. He dragged the cold metal along the inside of your thigh and down to the outside of your leg, leaving a mixture of your unwanted arousal and his spit along your right thigh. His left hand’s pointer and middle finger slipped into you, stuffing a third in not longer after.
Tears brewed in your eyes and you groaned, trying to stop the assault. The gun came from the outside of your thigh and Toji pulled away from your clit and pulled his fingers out before prodding the barrel of the gun at your hole. Your eyes widened and you shook your head, but he kept you in place. He began to work the tip of the gun into your pussy. You sobbed loudly at the intrusion, the indents in the metal scrapped against the inside of your pussy, causing you to cry out with every small thrust.
Toji pressed the gun deeper into your cunt, watching your pussy stretch, trying to accommodate the intrusion. Soft sobs and hiccups left your lips as Toji continued to work the gun deeper inside of you. His hands finally stilled and you were so grateful for it, still sobbing. “Toji- please!” A creepy smile plastered on his face and you watched in horror as he clicked the safety off, the sound causing your ears to ring.
Your eyes opened wide, still crying and trying to get away. “Ah-ah.” Toji said, his finger twitching on the trigger. “Come on now you wouldn’t want me to accidentally pull the trigger? It might hurt. But what do I know, right? I don’t have female anatomy.” You choked back a sob, trying your hardest not to make any sudden movement when Toji whistles loudly. “You sure you’re not enjoying yourself? I mean you’ve already coated the gun in a pretty ring of your cream and you're leaking down to my wrist.”
Toji pulled the gun out, watching your pussy gape as you whimpered and you writhe. “Good girl.” Toji said, gently rubbing the barrel of the gun on your clit. You jumped as you rocked your hips against the warm metal. “I thought you didn’t want this. You’re rubbing your clit against the gun.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “S-shut up. It’s not even loaded-” A loud bang and your ears rang, causing you to pause. There was a hole in the decorative pillow next to your head.
Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly and Toji smirked. “You still think it’s not loaded?” He pressed the hot metal into your mouth, the gunpowder leaving a foul taste in your mouth. Still hyperventilating, Toji pressed his cock into your cunt, groaning at the resistance. “You’re still so fucking tight. Even after I tried to stretch you out a little with the gun.” You whimpered around the gun, your eyes completely shut.
“Come on. You don’t even wanna look at your husband? Show me some love, Doll. I haven’t seen you or this pussy in a whole week.” You shook your head and the gun was pulled from your mouth, covered in your unwanted arousal and saliva and he pressed the tip underneath your chin; the gun clicked again. “Safety’s off again, Doll.” You quickly open your eyes, looking at him through the tears that threatened to spill. “There she is. Oh how I missed you, Doll.” You whimpered, closing your eyes again before forcing yourself to open them again.
“Good girl. I didn’t even have to force you.” Toji laughed, his hips thrusting deep into your messy pussy, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every snap of his hips. You whimpered, a loud sob leaving your lips and Toji groaned. “Come on, Doll. You’re making my dick soft with all that cryin’. Why don’t you give me a big pretty smile?” You whimpered, your back arching. You couldn’t be close to an orgasm. Not with him pointing a gun under your jaw and his cock bullying your cervix; you can’t be.
“Is my whore wife close? Her messy cunt wants to cream all over my cock?” You let out a sob and Toji’s free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing you tight. Your well manicured nails clawed at his arm, trying to get him to let go of you. But the more you struggled, the more his big hand tightened around your throat and restricted your breathing.
“To….ji please!” You whimpered through strangled breaths. “Shhh. Let me take care of your needy pussy. M’kay?” You clawed at his biceps leaving red scratch marks against his skin and he hissed, tossing the gun off of the bed. Both of his hands wrapped around your throat. Your vision began to blur; you couldn’t tell if it was from tears or the lack of oxygen, but Toji was relentlessly pounding into your pussy, listening to your soft mewls and the lewd noises from between your legs. You didn’t know what was happening.
“T-toji!” He smiled. “That's all you can say? Beg for me to stop when your cunt is so fucking greedy and you need me to tend to her. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take care of your needs?” You sobbed and he smiled as he watched you grow weaker and weaker from his grip. Your cunt spasmed around Toji’s cock and he smiled. “Go ahead. Make a fucking mess of my cock and cum while I use your pussy the way I wanna.”
Your back arched and you came hard, your head fuzzy and you felt yourself slowly losing consciousness. You tried to fight it, but Toji’s hips snapping hard against yours, his finger gripping your neck hard enough to leave bruises. “Gonna cum deep inside your pretty pussy and get you pregnant again. Watch you waddle around the house, your breasts so full. Holy shit, I’m going to cum inside of you.” Your hands began to shake and your body convulsed trying to use what little power you had left before you came hard again, back to back, the overstimulation driving you insane. Then, it went dark.
You blacked out.
You woke up, your thighs sticky and your entire body was sore with pain. The feathers from the pillow were all over the bed and floor. You whimpered as you tried to sit up, but Toji’s firm hands were on your thighs, keeping you laying on your back. You looked between your legs and all you could see was Toji devouring your cunt with no kind of restraint. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp and it only left you weaker than before and Toji chuckled into your pussy.
“Come on now, Doll. Relax. I’m trying to clean up my mess. Be a good girl and stay still for me, okay?”
Word Count - 2.1 K
@ yourm0om est 2025 - all rights reserved. do not copy on any platform
You're a fool to think you can get out of your duties to your little brother just because he got a girlfriend.
cw: pseudo!incest, didi caleb/jiejie mc, mean caleb, ?free use, fingering, fucking from behind, cumming inside, cheating (not on mc), dead dove don't eat, DUB!CON/NON!CON
The kitchen feels warm, even in just your light leggings and tank top. Sweat trickles down your neck and under your top, staining it as you stand at the counter chopping herbs. When you’re finished, you toss them into the pot, then wipe the dampness from your neck with the back of your hand.
You’re not usually the one who cooks out of the two of you, but with Caleb and his girlfriend visiting Linkon, you can’t exactly make him cook. Well, you would have if they were staying over, but you didn’t offer up your house this time… not after what happened last time.
You glance at the clock, wondering if you could sneak in a quick five-minute shower before he arrives. But just as the thought crosses your mind, the front door opens. You let out a soft sigh. So much for that shower. You’ll just have to go after he leaves.
Earlier, you’d asked Caleb to run and get you some missing ingredients you’d stupidly forgotten. You would have gotten them yourself but you couldn’t leave the food unattended after you’d already started cooking.
Caleb steps into the kitchen with a paper bag in one hand. “Here you go, jiejie. Got everything you asked for. Even bought that fancy wine you like.”
“Oh, thank you, didi. I don’t know what I would have done without you. The night would have been ruined.” You take the bag from him and lean up to press a quick peck to his waiting cheek. “But you didn’t have to trouble yourself with the wine.”
“Wanted to.” He shrugs, and gives you a boyish grin. “After all, it’s not every day that my spoiled big sister decides to cook for me.”
“I’m not cooking for you, you brat. I’m cooking for your girlfriend.” You poke your tongue out at him, and he laughs brightly. “You’re already switching up on me? I thought you didn’t know what you’d do without me?”
“Maybe it’s time I found out.” You tease, turning back to the stove. “Now run off and get yourself and your girlfriend ready for dinner.”
“We still have time. I can stay for a bit.” He says, and there is an ever so slight change in his tone that gives you pause for a second before you go back to what you were doing.
“Do you need help?” Caleb wanders closer, peering over your shoulder at the bubbling pot, and you throw him back a smile. “Nope. You’ve done enough. You don’t have to stay. I’ve got it all handled.”
He ignores you, stepping right up behind you until his chest brushes your back. “Surely that’s not right.” He hums, breath warm against your ear. “My big sister is preparing this nice dinner for us… At least let me keep you company.”
You roll your eyes, even as you feel your body stiffening up. “Whatever.”
His arms slide around your waist, pulling you back against him in a tight hug. “Hmm… smells good.”
“It’s your favorite dish.” You say hoarsely as his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck. “Yeah… it is.”
You clear your throat. “How has work been treating you? Are you sleeping well? Getting enough rest? Any big missions coming up?” You blabber, your last question choked out as one of his hands drifts slowly down your front.
Caleb chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back. “Couple of missions next week, nothing too intense. After that, I’ll have some time off.” His voice is sweet as his fingers play with the waistband of your leggings. “Girlfriend’s been talking about taking a weekend trip to some cabin up north. She thinks it’ll be romantic.”
“That sounds nice.” You manage, mouth dry as you shift in his tight embrace, the anxious energy making you squirm against him immediately snuffed out when you feel his hard length poking against your ass.
“Mm, yeah. She’s been really excited about it.” His hand slips inside your pants, warm palm pressing over your underwear first, then sliding beneath the fabric. You bite your lip and grip the edge of the counter. “She seems good for you.”
Caleb hums, circling your clit in lazy strokes. “She is sweet.” His voice stays perfectly casual, as his fingers play with your pussy, and when they dip down to gather the unbidden wetness weeping from your hole, you jerk, thighs pressing together instinctively.
“Easy.” He chuckles, nudging your legs apart with his knee. “Clumsy jiejie.”
“Caleb, honey… time’s running out.” You say, voice strained as you clutch the counter tighter. “You gotta go pick up your girlfriend.”
“Hmm… in a bit. She texted earlier saying she might be a little late. ” He grunts, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “We got time.”
Still, he withdraws his hand anyway and you let out a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived, quickly replaced by dread as hooks his fingers into your pants and underwear, shoving them down just past your hips. You hear the sound of him spitting into his hand before he presses it between your asscheeks, rubbing the spit around your entrance for a second then sinking two thick fingers into your pussy. The sudden stretch stings, but you’re no stranger to the pain. Your little brother has put you through worse.
“She wants me to meet her family properly soon, you know.” He continues, his voice growing huskier as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them to force you open. “Thinks we’re getting serious.”
Dread bubbles in your chest and your pussy tightens around his fingers as you hear the sound of a zipper being undone. Then you feel the hot press of his cock against your ass, the tip smearing precum as he rubs it over your skin.
“Yeah?” You whisper, barely able to focus on the conversation. “That’s good, didi. I’m happy for you two.”
“Are you now?” Caleb scoffs, withdrawing his fingers from you and your heart rate spikes up. You know what comes next.
“The food is almost ready.” You speak up quickly, “You should go pick her up now or you’ll be late and the food will get cold.”
“Don’t worry, traffic’s light this time of evening.” He brushes you off, lining his cock up with your pussy from behind. Before you could protest again, he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust.
Your eyes squeeze shut, a broken whimper slipping past your lips as he forces you open on his cock. He’s always been big, and no matter how many times he does this to you, your body never quite gets used to the stretch. You feel every inch, every vein, as he sinks deep until his hips are flush against your ass, buried inside you to the hilt.
“I won’t let your effort go to waste, jiejie.” He promises, voice already a little shaky. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he starts moving in deep thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot inside you. Your pants and underwear are still bunched around your thighs, trapping your legs and making you feel even more exposed and helpless.
Caleb leans back slightly, one hand leaving your hip before you hear the soft click of his phone unlocking, followed by the unmistakable sound of the camera shutter.
It's not the first time he's done this. His phone is filled with hundreds of pictures of you going back years.
“Just a little keepsake.” He whispers cheekily, “For when I’m missing my favorite girl.”
You don’t say anything as he puts his phone away and leans over your again, chest pressing flush to your back, caging you against the counter. It’s always better to let him do whatever he wants. Makes it go quicker.
“Fuck… you feel so good.” He groans, the words slipping out between thrusts. His breath comes out hotter now as his pace picks up, rocking you forward with every snap of his hips. “So tight for me… even when you’re pretending you don’t want it.”
You bite down hard on your lip to keep your mouth shut. Just let him say what he wants. Don’t contradict him. Be nice and quiet and this will be over soon. You repeat those words in your head like a mantra. They’ve gotten you through so much worse.
But Caleb isn’t satisfied with your quiet surrender today. One of his hands slides up under your tank top to squeeze your breasts roughly, while the other slips between your legs, playing with your little clit the way he has mastered over the years.
“Right now, she’s probably back home trying to pick out a nice dress to impress her boyfriend’s big sister, all while you’ve got me balls deep in your tight pussy.” He pants, mouthing at your neck in wet, stinging kisses. You’ll have to wear a high collar tonight. It’s okay. You’ve got a collection of them thanks to your didi who is fucking you more roughly now, his pace turning punishing at your continued silence. “You like that, don’t you? Like proving who I really belong to.”
You shake your head despite yourself, and immediately regret it. You know better than this.
Caleb’s hand fists in your hair and yanks your head back. “Don't lie to me. Look at what you're wearing. You wanted it.”
You let out a helpless mewl. You know you should've changed. You're such an idiot.
You bite down on your tongue, tasting blood as you hold back from shaking your head again. He scoffs, driving into you harshly, making your knees buckle as the strength goes out of your body. He catches you easily, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up as he drives into you faster, and angles his hips to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.
“Still won't admit it? You like to pretend I'm taking you against your will? Is that what turns you on, sister? I can feel how wet you are around me, dripping down my balls.” He mocks and you wish he would just cum already. Why is he being so cruel today? “But it hurts my ego, jiejie. Hmm… maybe I should cancel that weekend trip and spend it with you instead. We won’t go anywhere, just stay here and I can fuck you on every surface of this damn apartment until you admit it. How does that sound, jie?”
You panic. “No, Caleb. We had a deal, remember, baby?”
“I remember. Do you?” He asks gruffly, hips still snapping into you. “You were supposed to let me visit once a week, but you kept cancelling. Wouldn’t even answer my calls or texts. I almost called the whole thing off.”
So this is what it’s about.
“No, no, I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I was just busy—”
You weren’t. You had hoped that now that he got a longterm girlfriend that you can finally start to wean him off his sick fixation on you. Clearly, it was too soon.
“Liar.” He whines, suddenly sounding like your precious little brother that you’d do anything for. Anything. Even let him cross a line that should never be crossed between siblings. “You were being a bad jiejie. Trying to get out of your duties to your little brother.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Sorry for being bad. I won't neglect you again, I promise.” You choke out, your pussy burning from the rough way he’s treating you. Luckily, you know how to push him over the edge and end it. “I missed you, baby… I missed your cock inside me. Please, won’t you cum inside jiejie and fill her up?”
His hips stutter.
“Yeah?” He groans, leaning over you, breath hot against your ear. “You want it, jie?”
“Yes, baby.” You moan, giving him exactly what he craves. “I want to take care of you. Let go for your big sister.”
“Okay, jiejie.” He whimpers, “Whatever you want. Gonna give it all to you.”
Caleb’s thrusts grow erratic, his hips snapping against your ass desperately, until finally he buries himself deep one last time, his grip on your waist tightening painfully as a loud groan tears from his throat
“Fuck, take it. Take every drop.” He rasps against your ear.
You feet the hot, thick pulse of his cock as he comes inside you, rope after rope of warm cum flooding your pussy. Your walls flutter around him helplessly, your own orgasm hovering just out of reach, leaving you trembling and needy, but you’re not going to ask him for release.
“Fuck, I love you, jie.” He moans, turning your head to the side and slotting his lips against yours, his tongue pushing past your lips. You let him kiss you, drooling into your mouth as he grinds against your ass, his cock hardening again inside you.
“Baby… baby, the dinner.” You plead desperately against his mouth and he grunts in dissatisfaction, biting down on your bottom lip punishingly. You flinch back with a hiss of pain, feeling a warm drop of blood trickling down your chin. His eyes fixate on it, pupils blown wide as he leans in and licks it away, groaning at the taste, his cock twitching inside your cum-filled pussy.
“Caleb.” You repeat, trying to sound firm but your voice comes out shaky. You know you can’t let him lose himself again.
He huffs in frustration but finally pulls out. The wet, obscene sound of his cock leaving your soaked hole makes your cheeks burn with shame, as does the maddening emptiness it leaves inside you. You barely have a second to steady yourself before he yanks your underwear and leggings back up your thighs, tugging them into place haphazardly. The fabric presses tight against your dripping pussy, trapping his warm cum inside.
“Don’t shower, okay?” He tells you, voice still rough from his climax as he tucks himself back into his pants and zips up. “Keep it all inside you.”
You balk, eyes widening in horror. “I can’t sit across from your girlfriend like this!”
Caleb turns you around and pins you against the cabinet with his body, one hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He has a serene smile on his face, but his beautiful sunset eyes are dark and stormy, and it makes your heart ache. Oh, how you’d give anything to bring sunshine back into his eyes.
“You will.” He says, thumb tracing your swollen bottom lip. “Because you’re the one who wants this little show to continue.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he pushes his thumb between your lips, pressing down on your tongue to silence you.
“After we have dinner and I go to drop her off, you will wait for me in your bed. You can pretend to be asleep all you want, but that won't stop me. And if I come back and find you’d cleaned up…” His voice drops low, and you shiver. “I’ll send her the pictures of you stuffed full of my cock.”
Your stomach turns with dread, and you stand there paralysed as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue, more gentle this time. When he pulls back, his voice is soft again.
“Be good for me tonight, okay? You’ve got a lot to make up to me, jie.” He brushes his wet thumb across your cheek, then flashes you a sweet smile when you nod obediently.
“See you soon, jie.” He presses one last soft peck to your lips before he turns and walks away. The front door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in your kitchen, pants still slightly crooked, thighs pressed together, and your brother’s cum slowly seeping out of your aching pussy.
a/n: sorry guys the next chapter of Yes, Baby is taking a little bit of time. i've just moved house and then my cat got sick and things have been really hectic so here is something to tide you over. Also been reading flowers in the attic and i am hooked lol if anyone read it your girl wants to talk
taglist for all my caleb fics: @mcdepressed290, @monoidmango, @seraphineash, @lewdcifer778, @strayy-kidz, @virtualdonutcashdeputy, @airachniide, @deceptive-solitude, @mimiluvzu2, @smmnlz, @secretarykitten, @fukyachickennuggets-blog, @joannafaustus, @rose3heartzzz, @unadulteratedtranquility, @pixiu-palindrome, @iwillstealyouruwus, @lilkittenskiss, @remnantsofgildedcages, @cinnabean3, @pookiei-bookie, @cembreeee, @ariapok, @bypanana
warnings: non con, blackmail, unprotected sex, forced intimacy, cumming inside, no curse au, no prep, manipulation, obsession, manhandle, pervy geto
wc: 1.3k
disclaimer: this story contains dark themes, unhealthy relationship and criminal behavior. reader discretion is advised. please separate fiction from reality.
law school is really tough and failing in the first semester feels like the world has ended. as an orphan with no family to rely on, the burden of retaking exams is completely on your shoulders.
you try to balance studying with a part-time job but the small pay barely covers groceries, let alone university fees. you feel hopeless, like there’s no way out and you’re completely exhausted.
then you spot an ad for a live-in housekeeper at a luxury property. the salary is insanely high, more than enough to pay off your tuition debt. without thinking twice, you apply.
but when the heavy oak door of the mansion opens on your first day, your heart sinks. standing there in expensive silk clothes is none other than suguru, your classmate from elementary school. in the years since you last met, suguru has become incredibly rich, smart and influential.
when suguru realized that the desperate girl who applied to clean his house was his former classmate, a casual dark smile spread across his face. he immediately hired you.
it wasn't long before you realized that you had walked right into a trap. suguru's attitude wasn't just playful. he became obsessed with your presence in his space, turning every household chore into an opportunity to tease and corner you.
“you missed a spot, y/n” suguru’s low voice murmured one afternoon.
you froze, hands holding the dust cloth while your tutor stepped right behind you, his chest pressing against your back. he didn't care about cleanliness. he just wanted to feel you tremble. his hands slowly wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him, his fingers boldly tracing the edge of your maid’s skirt.
you swallowed hard, your eyes stinging with tears that didn't fall but you forced yourself to stay quiet. you couldn't stop. you needed this money so badly and suguru knew exactly how helpless you were. his touch became more demanding, his fingers sliding down your skirt to caress your bare thighs, mocking your silence with a soft dark laugh in your ear.
what makes it easy for suguru to push your limits is how innocent you are. you really don’t understand the dark currents of the world that have pulled you in. because you work as a housemaid living in his house, the quietest nights are the scariest.
sometimes, through the thin walls of the maid's room, you would hear muffled, gasping moans coming from suguru's bedroom upstairs, your breath getting caught as they call your name in the dark. but because you're too naive, you don't know the real meaning of those sounds so you just take them as normal and ignore them.
you carry that same innocence into your work all day. it wasn't until that afternoon, when you were dusting the shelves in suguru's master bedroom, you came across a hidden porn magazine under his desk. your eyes paused briefly on the scandalous cover but you just put it back and ignored it, thinking it wasn't your business what your wealthy employer keeps in his private time.
but now it’s all starting to chase you. you head back to his master bedroom on that rainy late afternoon, changing the sheets without realizing that suguru is watching you from the doorway.
before you could smooth down the blanket, the door clicked shut and the lock turned with a heavy thud. geto crossed the room with slow predatory steps, his dark eyes fixed on you like a predator cornering its prey.
“mr. suguru … i'm almost done with the room” you whispered stepping back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress.
“forget about that” geto purred, pinning both of your wrists against the mattress before you could even move. his massive frame completely overshadowed you, his dark eyes shimmering with a dangerous possessive intensity.
the dark reality of those midnight groans and the magazine covers suddenly crashed down on your mind all at once, making your heart race in pure panic.
geto noticed the sudden realization flickering in your eyes and a dark, breathless smile spread across his face as his grip tightened. “finally figuring it out, y/n? you've been working so hard for this money ... don't you think it's time you properly please your master?”
he bent over, his lips touching your neck, deeply inhaling your body scent while his fingers gripped your wrists, holding them firmly above your head. with his free hand, he slowly unbuttoned your maid's clothes one by one, exposing your racing heartbeat to the heat.
suguru's breath became hotter on your neck as his free hand finished unbuttoning your maid's clothes down to the waist. he pulled the fabric apart, revealing your bare chest to the cool bedroom air.
“think smart, y/n” he whispered, voice low and venomous. “if you don’t do this, i’ll call my parents right now and tell them to fire you. you’ll lose this job, this roof and every cent you need for those repeat papers. you’ll go back to being broke with nothing. so choose go broke or spread your legs and pay for your semester like a good little maid.”
your eyes widened in horror. the weight of his words crushed any resistance. with no family, no savings and tuition deadlines looming, you had nowhere else to turn. tears welled up as you nodded weakly, body trembling.
“good girl” he growled, releasing your wrists only to flip you onto your stomach and rip the rest of your uniform down your hips. he shoved your face into the fresh sheets while his other hand worked his belt open. the sound of his zipper echoed like a death knell. without warning, he forced your thighs apart and slammed his thick cock straight into your dry pussy in one brutal thrust.
you screamed into the mattress, the sudden stretch tearing through you. geto groaned in pure pleasure, hips snapping forward again and again, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. “fuck, you’re so tight” he hissed, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back while the other pinned your wrists behind you. he pounded into you relentlessly, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as your cries grew louder.
tears streamed down your face, soaking the sheets. every violent thrust sent jolts of pain through your body but geto only moaned louder, lost in his obsession. “that’s it, cry for me” he panted, leaning over to bite your shoulder hard enough to bruise. “you’re mine now. this pussy belongs to your master.”
he flipped you onto your back again, hooking your legs over his shoulders so he could drive even deeper. his cock hammered against your cervix with every stroke, stretching you painfully wide. you sobbed openly, body jerking under the force of his assault but he didn’t slow down. instead, he reached between your bodies to rub your clit roughly, forcing unwanted sparks through your suffering.
“look at me while i ruin you, sweetheart” he demanded, gripping your jaw. his dark eyes burned with twisted satisfaction as he watched every tear fall. he thrust harder, faster, chasing his own climax while you broke beneath him. “scream louder, sweetheart. no one’s coming to save you.”
your walls clenched around his cock from the brutal friction and geto let out a guttural moan. he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding your raw pussy with hot cum. he stayed inside you, grinding slowly as he emptied every drop, savoring your broken sobs.
even after he finished, he didn’t pull out. instead, he started moving again, already hardening inside your cum slicked hole. “we’re not done” he murmured against your ear, voice thick with lust. “you still owe me for that tuition. cry all you want this is your new job now.”
︵ ೀ mdni. suguru’s in love with his best friends’s wife ( dubcon / non-con / cheating thoughts ; dark content )
“you ever gonna stop fucking around, suguru?”
your voice cuts through the haze of your living room, casual, like you’re asking about the weather. satoru’s passed out with his head in your lap, mouth open, one hand still curled possessively around your thigh like it belongs there. it does.
“why would i?” he says. “got nothing better to do.”
you hum, fingers still combing through hair that isn’t his. the ring on your left hand catches the light every time you move.
“liar,” you murmur, almost fond.
he looks at you then and feels the familiar twist low in his gut. the one that started the first time satoru brought you around, so fucking beautiful and precious, fitting against his best friend like you were made for it.
he’d known, right then, that he was fucked and tried to outrun it ever since.
every girl after you has been a placeholder. brunette, blonde, redhead—he doesn’t care. he presses them against walls, bends them over sinks, spreads them across his sheets, and still closes his eyes and sees you.
he imagines it’s your mouth making those little sounds, your cunt gripping him like you never want him to leave. he pictures the way you’d look underneath him—back arched, thighs trembling, that smart mouth gasping his name instead of satoru’s.
he wants to ruin you for his best friend. wants to fuck you so thoroughly that every time satoru touches you afterward, you remember suguru’s cock instead.
he wonders if you’d cry. if you’d fight him at first, all that loyalty burning in your eyes, only to melt when he finally got his mouth on you. he thinks about pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other slides between your legs, finding you soaked because some part of you has always known. he imagines the way you’d clench around his fingers when you come, how you’d bite your lip to stay quiet so satoru wouldn’t hear from the next room.
he’s jerked off to the thought of you more times than he can count. in the shower, in his car outside some bar or in satoru’s guest bed while you were asleep down the hall, your husband’s arm thrown over your waist like a chain.
sometimes he pictures it slow—peeling your clothes off piece by piece, kissing every inch of skin he uncovers until you’re shaking with it. sometimes he imagines it brutal—shoving your skirt up in the hallway while satoru’s in the bathroom, covering your mouth with his hand so you don’t make a sound when he sinks into you in one thrust.
he wants to leave bruises shaped like his fingerprints on your hips. wants to watch you try to walk straight the next morning while satoru slaps your ass and calls you lazy for sleeping in.
he wants to own you in ways satoru never will.
you’re looking at him now like you can hear every filthy thought scrolling behind his eyes. your head tilts, just slightly, and the corner of your mouth curves—not quite a smile, not quite a challenge.
︵ ೀ mdni. suguru’s in love with his best friends’s wife ( dubcon / non-con / cheating thoughts ; dark content )
“you ever gonna stop fucking around, suguru?”
your voice cuts through the haze of your living room, casual, like you’re asking about the weather. satoru’s passed out with his head in your lap, mouth open, one hand still curled possessively around your thigh like it belongs there. it does.
“why would i?” he says. “got nothing better to do.”
you hum, fingers still combing through hair that isn’t his. the ring on your left hand catches the light every time you move.
“liar,” you murmur, almost fond.
he looks at you then and feels the familiar twist low in his gut. the one that started the first time satoru brought you around, so fucking beautiful and precious, fitting against his best friend like you were made for it.
he’d known, right then, that he was fucked and tried to outrun it ever since.
every girl after you has been a placeholder. brunette, blonde, redhead—he doesn’t care. he presses them against walls, bends them over sinks, spreads them across his sheets, and still closes his eyes and sees you.
he imagines it’s your mouth making those little sounds, your cunt gripping him like you never want him to leave. he pictures the way you’d look underneath him—back arched, thighs trembling, that smart mouth gasping his name instead of satoru’s.
he wants to ruin you for his best friend. wants to fuck you so thoroughly that every time satoru touches you afterward, you remember suguru’s cock instead.
he wonders if you’d cry. if you’d fight him at first, all that loyalty burning in your eyes, only to melt when he finally got his mouth on you. he thinks about pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other slides between your legs, finding you soaked because some part of you has always known. he imagines the way you’d clench around his fingers when you come, how you’d bite your lip to stay quiet so satoru wouldn’t hear from the next room.
he’s jerked off to the thought of you more times than he can count. in the shower, in his car outside some bar or in satoru’s guest bed while you were asleep down the hall, your husband’s arm thrown over your waist like a chain.
sometimes he pictures it slow—peeling your clothes off piece by piece, kissing every inch of skin he uncovers until you’re shaking with it. sometimes he imagines it brutal—shoving your skirt up in the hallway while satoru’s in the bathroom, covering your mouth with his hand so you don’t make a sound when he sinks into you in one thrust.
he wants to leave bruises shaped like his fingerprints on your hips. wants to watch you try to walk straight the next morning while satoru slaps your ass and calls you lazy for sleeping in.
he wants to own you in ways satoru never will.
you’re looking at him now like you can hear every filthy thought scrolling behind his eyes. your head tilts, just slightly, and the corner of your mouth curves—not quite a smile, not quite a challenge.
Tw: noncon, nsfw, 18+, mean! Valko, mean!caleb, anal. Reader x valko x caleb
Mdni~
a/n: infold count your days, bring my baby valko back
Masterlist
⊙.☉
The smell of coffee and pastries saturates the air and the hum of the machines rings in your ears. You are moving on autopilot, going through the mundane endeavours of a barista. Tired and overstimulated, your brain is occupied with other things like deadlines, classes, responsibilities and the list goes on.
The low murmurs in the cafe suddenly die down, only for giggles and squeals to erupt from the crowd, and you look up confused to search for the cause of disturbance, only for your eyes to lay on two handsome guys walking in through the glass doors. You internally sigh and roll your eyes, disappointed that it is not something interesting.
With a drag in your step, you grab a tray full of cold and hot coffees and make a beeline towards the customers in the sitting area.
And by the courtesy of your rotten luck, you bump into someone, a brick wall perhaps, and the tray slips from your grip only to nose dive on the floor, shattering everything. Your butt meets with the hard floor and all the air whooshes out of your lips as you wince in pain.
The cafe goes dead silent. You clench your eyes, ready to apologise to the poor soul whose shirt you definitely spoiled. "No no no.." From the corner of your eye, you spot another person beside your victim, and his shoes are completely drenched too. Oh great.
With your teeth gritted and fist clenched, you raise your head ready to apologise and own your actions.
Striking violet eyes with a hint of amber in them meet with yours and the apology instantly dies down on your tongue. But that is not what stuns you. It's his face. He does not look happy at all. His face is a mask of dismay, disgust and repulsion.
"I'm really sor-" you say as you lift yourself from the ground and stand up.
"You're really dumb aren't you?" A condescending voice rings out.
Stunned. That is what you are. How dare he...
Straightening up, you ask "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Are your eyes just for decoration?"
"Look, sir. I'm sorry that I ruined your shirt and your friend's shoes" eyes dart to the red hair guy with an amused smile on his face standing a few feet behind him.
"..but you can't talk to me like that."
You retort back. Sure, it is your fault you bumped into them but that does not mean they can talk in that... aggravating tone. A frown mars your face and you look in those... beautiful violet eyes with every ounce of defiance you can muster. A muscle ticks in his jaw and he levels you with a dangerous look. Maybe a guy like that is not used to people talking back.
Unexpectedly, a humourless chuckle cuts through the silence, stopping you dead in your tracks.
"I can't?" He smirks and takes a step forward, crowding your space with his huge build. Trying not to shrink in yourself, you stand your ground.
Caleb's eyes flick down to your name tag on your uniform and he lets out a scoff.
"You have a sharp tongue for someone who ruined my...very expensive shirt. I'd watch my tongue, if I were you. Aren't you here on scholarship?"
The way he says the word scholarship is.... infuriating. Like he is disgusted at the prospect. Humiliation creeps up your spine and you want to bury yourself in a hole and never come back out
You glance at Valko behind Caleb, standing with a relaxed posture, arms crossed and a smug look on his face leveling you with a stare that says you are nothing more than an inconvenience.
At their blatant display of mockery, something in you snaps.
"Why don't you watch where you're going?" You throw right back at him, sarcasm dripping from your voice.
"Are your eyes just for decoration? Or does that very expensive shirt make you go blind? I'm not the only one who wasn't watching the corner."
Caleb's smirk instantly gets wiped off from his face and his shoulders tense up. Those violet eyes narrow into slits in silent, raw anger. But you cannot stop. Not right now. In a fit of anger you rip the apron off your body and storm towards the room with a "STAFF ONLY" sign on it. You shut the door behind you and let out a frustrated sigh, hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline.
Serves them right. Who talks down to people like that? They're not in highschool fir god's sake!
The door slams open behind you and you flinch as you are met with a shocked, frantic voice of your coworker who looks like she just saw a murder.
"Did you see how-"
"What did you do!?"
"W-what? They were the ones who-"
She steps closer and whisper yells
"Do you even know who they are?!"
"No.. am I supposed to?"
A frustrated sigh leaves her lips and she looks like she is about to burst. She grabs your shoulder and shakes you as if she is shaking some sense into you.
"That's Caleb and Valko!!"
What.the.fuck.
"You mean....THE Caleb and Valko??" A shaky voice leaves your lips.
The principal benefactor and the head chairman of the board.
You just spilled coffee, talked shit and mocked their sons. You might have just done that to them. What's the difference?
You are spiralling inside and your heartbeat is ringing in your ears.
You are done for. Bye bye scholarship. Bye bye future. Hello homelessness. Hello surviving on cents.
You are pulled back from your inner turmoil by a firm grip on your arm.
"Hey! It's ok! Breathe" her commanding voice helps you to ground yourself. With tears in your eyes you ask with a shaky voice
"What do I do Tara?? My entire life is riding on this degree. If they pull my scholarship out, I'm done for!"
"Of course they are gonna do that!! You would be considered lucky if they stop at just that! They are not just some wealthy businessmenyou know? If they knew their sons were humiliated by a mere barista, the dean will not even think twice to fire you and kick you out just to please the donors!"
Her words are not helping your situation at all! Some friend she is. Ice cold dread washes over you. With your hands fisted in a ball, you try to stop yourself from shaking.
"But panicking is not gonna fix anything."
"How can I not panic! Caleb looked like he was gonna kill me!"
"Exactly, this is why you should go do some damage control."
"You mean.. apologise?"
"Yes. All the classes are done for today. Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn you are gonna be here and you are gonna apologize no matter what it takes. Understand? Put your pride in a bag and toss it away."
Her words do make sense. Maybe if you apologise sincerely, they will be a bit lenient with you. Yes! You will do just that. After all, they cannot be THAT evil right? It was not ENTIRELY your fault... "Thanks Tara, you are a lifesaver! Lunch is on me!" Yelling over your shoulder, you run out ready to face tomorrow.
Next morning....
The huge doors of the gym look daunting, like gates of hell. There is no sign of life anywhere near the gym. It is almost as if people avoid this area.
Your skaky hands are holding a cup of coffee in each one as peace offerings.
With a deep breath and your apology already revised in your brain, you open the door of the gym.
Instantly, you are met with the smell of sweat, deodorant and the stale air of the gym. The atmosphere reeks with the scent of something masculine, much heavier than the crisp air of the outside.
Your eyes land on two figures lounging on the benches. Something shifts. Their eyes land on you in sync.
You hesitate but the thought of losing your degree, makes you enter the gym and walk towards them with determined steps. Except the gym is huge and the walk of shame is awkward.
When you reach them you extend your hands and offer them the coffee. Valko raises one of his elegant brows in question.
"I'm here to apologise.. for my actions yesterday."
They exchange a quick knowing look and something passes between them. Like a silent agreement.
The coffees are snatched by Valko and with a strong, firm grip on your arm he guides you towards the gym storage on the far corner with Caleb trailing behind you silently.
"Why don't we talk somewhere more... private?" Valko's voice almost sounds playful if it is not for the restrained undertone.
"Isn't this private enough? I-I mean there is no one here.." you really do not want to be alone with them.
He just gives you a smile that you swear does not reach his eyes. There is something eerie about the way they are so much in sync, it feels like they are having entire conversation just from a glance.
"Don't worry, we'll just talk" Caleb quips behind you. Valko will not let you out of his strong grip, he is almost dragging you in there.
They shove you in and the door locks shut engulfing you in the dark, making it impossible to see.
"There.." Valko says dusting his hands "..now we will not be... disturbed"
The smell of old leather and basketballs clogs your throat. You can make out their silhouettes courtesy of small window vent.
Caleb speaks up, his voice completely devoid of any humour.
"So...an apology huh?"
"Yeah". Your voice is clear and leveled. "I know I shouldn't have talked back when I was the one at fault. I let my anger get the best of me. I'm sorry.." hands fidgeting at your sides, you hold your breath waiting for their reaction.
But there is nothing, not even their usual smirk or an arrogant response. Nothing. And their silence makes you even more nervous.
Caleb plants his hand on the shelf behind you making you crane your neck up to look at his face. The sliver of light illuminates his face, casting a shadow over his jaw and making him look scary.
"You had a lot of shit to say about my eyes yesterday, sweetheart. Where did that fire go?"
His face is so close that his breath ghosts on your cheek. You look down and stammer out, feeling your bravado slip away.
"I told you I let the anger get the best of me, I'm sorry" his presence overwhelms you but you still grit out
"It will not happen again"
A soft click is heard from behind Caleb. Valko tuts at your response. Even in the shadows you can make out the disdainful look on his face.
"It will not happen again because you found out about who we are." Valko states flatly.
"You realised that you are one phone call away from being stripped of your funding, and your enrollment."
His statement leaves a metallic taste of fear in your mouth. Your scholarship is your lifeline, your entire future. Just the thought of losing it makes tears well in your eyes. Fuck it. Who cares if you come off as desperate. This is your last resort.
"Please... I've worked hard for it. I'll pay you back!! I'll take up extra shifts and pay you back for your shirt-"
"We do not care about the shirt"
Caleb's voice is too close. Eyes brimmed with tears, you look up at him. And suddenly, his lips are on your neck kissing biting and sucking your sensitive spot. Fingers weave in your hair to yank your neck back for better access.
Your hands shoot up to push his shoulders away but of course, he will not budge.
"Wait!! Stop this! Caleb... I do not want this!"
"Don't want this? Who cares about what you want sweetheart?" And he goes back to mauling your neck. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Surely they would not be so cruel. Right?
Frantically, you smack Caleb and thrash your body around in his grip. Strong hands grab your jaw, making you wince in pain. "Stay still" Caleb's breathless voice echoes in the silent room and he smashes his lips onto yours. You kick his legs, shake your head only for the struggle to be in vain.
You have to get out of here. Scholarship be damned. There is no way you are gonna let these devils have their way with you. With every ounce of strength you can muster in you, you clamp your teeth around Caleb's lips and bite down hard.
He winces in pain and you take this moment to duck under his hands and make a run for the doors. Your hand fumbles with the knob of the door, only for the daunting realisation to set in. It is locked. Of course it is locked.
A scream rips from your mouth when your hand is grabbed harshly and you are yanked backwards. Tears fall from your eyes, wetting your face.
"Caleb! I'm sorry! Please do not do this to me!!"
Caleb's face is unreadable as he slams your body against the wall caging you in his suffocating embrace.
"Enough"
He resumes his attack on your lips as he sucks your tongue and bites your lips. His tongue enters your mouth making you taste blood as he rubs his tongue against yours. Cold hands trail sneak under your shirt, making you shiver and Caleb grabs your breasts, pinching your nipple.
"Strip her Caleb, enough playing around". A voice rings out from your left. Valko. "Let's see how remorseful she is."
The sound of tearing is heard as Caleb rips your shirt and bra making you gasp and sob.
Your hands quickly cover your chest from the bite of the cold air but Caleb tuts and pins your hands against the wall.
Valko is on you in a flash, his hands sliding down your bottom along with your panties, leaving you completely bare before their eyes.
"N-no no no.. please I'm begging you!!"
"Shh it's ok sweetheart," Caleb coos in a mocking voice "you're doing amazing. Just go along with it."
He kicks your legs open and reaches down to rub his long thick fingers inside you to open you up. You clench hard around the intrusion and he hisses in your ear.
Valko is behind you, spreading your ass cheeks. He angles your hips so they are arched and he trails his hand to your tight asshole. "No! Not there please!!"
But of course they won't listen. Valko's fingers collect some of your wetness and he spreads it all over your back hole. Fingers skillfully work on your hole, massaging it, loosening the tight hole around his fingers.
Finally, after much prep, two of his fingers are in and you scream at the intrusion.
Your legs shake at the double penetration by both of their thick digits. Both of them retract their hands leaving you feeling empty.
Not for long because the blunt head of Caleb's cock is notched at your entrance. Your eyes widen in fear. He does not give you a chance for you to register, and slams his cock inside in one brutal thrust. Air leaves your lungs at the sudden intrusion. His cock is even bigger and longer than his fingers, and you can feel the burning stretch in your walls.
They do not give you time to recover. Because the head of Valko's dick is pressed up against your back hole. Even with the precum as lube, you struggle to take him.
Slowly but relentlessly, Valko pushes his cock with no regards to your pained groans and moans. His cock feels like something invasive. You can feel your body trying to push his cock out but he drives his hips and keeps thrusting in you.
Caleb is balls deep, his hips meeting yours, patiently waiting for Valko to bottom out. He uses that time to bite and suck at your chest, leave bruises. Some of them bleed and hurt.
When Valko finally bottoms out, you can feel his thick pulsing cock all up in your throat.
"it hurts!! Please take it out!!"
You are so full, that it is ridiculous. Begging and crying is no use either.
"Poor baby, I know it hurts but you have to bear with it. There is no other choice" Valko's cold voice whispers in your ear.
They will not listen. And that thought makes tears flow even more.
Forehead rested on Caleb's chest, you try to ground yourself from the sensation of both of their cocks.
Few moments later they start moving and you see stars behind your eyeballs. When one thrusts in, the other pulls out they move in complete sync, as if they swore to destroy you today.
The thin wall inside you separating their cocks is being rubbed vigorously by their blunt heads. Your legs are dangling in air as they use you like their own toy.
Caleb's chest is flushed with yours and Valko's is to your back.
"You're taking us so well sweetheart." Caleb moans in your ear. "So tight around us."
Valko's hands reach down to toy with your clit, his velvet voice cruel in your ear.
"You see baby? There is no point fighting us."
You are crying openly now. The squelching noise of their cocks moving in rhythm inside you and the wetness dripping down your dangling legs fill the room.
Your only purchase is Caleb and Valko holding you up and using you like a fleshlight.
"You're getting wetter sweetheart. Are you enjoying both of our cocks in you?" Caleb whispers in your ear and you shake your head.
Valko leans in and bites your shoulder "don't tell me, all that resistance was just an act" they laugh at the cruel joke.
Their thrust grows stronger and faster losing their rhythm. Biting, scratching sucking at your neck chest and back, you are overwhelmed. Valko is the first one to cum. He buries his cock in you until his hips are flushed with yours and paints your walls with his cum. He bites your shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he empties out his balls. His fingers do not stop their assault on your clit. You thrash around in their arms and clamp hard around their cocks as you come hard with a scream.
Both men grunt and moan at the pulsing of your walls around their sensitive cocks.
Valko stays buried in you, and Caleb follows soon after.
Sucking your lips in his mouth, his tip kisses your cervix and he shoots his load up your pussy. You feel the warm seed fill you up and drip down your legs.
Both men just stand there for a while to catch their breaths. They pull their spent cocks out of your cum filled holes and you slump down from exhaustion. They zip themselves up and crouch down.
Valko strokes your face and whispers sweetly
"Same time tomorrow baby. Don't forget."
And they both walk out, leaving your used body on the dirty floor of the storage.
hm. thinking about xavier who drugs you bc you cant keep up with him.. you always push him away because you get too sensitive, but he's not done. he needs to show you how much he loves you. prove to you that you're the only one for him. he needs to fill you up over and over again until he's shooting blanks, and even then, it might not be enough. but if you're passed out and pliant underneath him, too weak to do anything other than take it, the sweetest little moans slipping from your lips, then he can be content. kissing at your neck and whispering a mix of i love you and i'm sorry into your skin and hoping you'll understand why he needed to do this when you wake up sore and confused and dripping.
Your thighs were shaking and your back was arched. You tremble as his movements continue above you. He was everywhere, moaning on your ear, one hand caged yours in a tight grip, thighs spread apart in a filthy way that makes shame crawl up your spine and in your veins.
"So good baby, you're being so good f'me" He whispered in your ear as if they were lover's tune of praise. But it was far from it. Your bully was holding you spread open like a pretzel as he rammed his thick cock in you. He angled his hips in a way that he hit that sweet spongy spot every.single time. Which made your eyes roll back in pleasure, albeit your aversion.
You were sprawled across the sofa in the living room. He came barging in and demanding that you spend some time with him. And after much needed discipline (that's what he convinced himself) he has you folded in half on your bed. Sometime between your making out, he moved you to your room and plopped you on the bed
And now you're here an hour later, with him still rutting in you. Your unwilling walls clamp down on his dick, wetness gushing and pooling around you. At this point you don't even remember how many times the orgasm was forced out of you. By his fingers, with his mouth his dick etc etc he was taking his sweet time thrusting in and out of your, making you feel every single drag of his cock against your walls. It was torturous
Your vision is blurry by your tears that won't stop no matter how much you try. Well being raped doesn't put you in a laughing mood either.
The thing about this whole situation was, he was being so...gentle. His voice was soft and he never talked harshly with you. But even after that you're sure you didn't ask for this.
"Oh wow baby..." Chuckle "look at how your cute cunny is swallowing my dick up...." He reached down to thumb your clit, making you thrash even more. You could feel the dreaded coil forming in your gut. You gripped his shoulders and bit his biceps trying to fight back in every way you can. How cute he thought
There's no way you'd get out of this.
He adjusted your legs on his forearms, your hips elevated slightly above the mattress. This was the perfect angle. His started thrusting again and this time, he wasn't taking his sweet time. His thrusts were strong and his stroked were long. You were screaming, crying and choking all at the same time. You were so overstimulated that it hurted. There was some soreness in your thighs
He looks down at where you guys are connected and groans at the fat of your glistening pussy lips being stretched around his cock, a white ring formed on his base
He looked up at your face to see you're completely out of it. With your eyes rolled back and your fists clenched in the sheets
He loved seeing you like this. All ruined because of him and only him. Your body went taut and the familiar, unwanted feeling of coil being snapped makes your body violently shake. He upped the speed of his thumb on your clit and grinded his hips deep in you, fucking you through the orgasm
All that could leave your lips were whines and cries of "too much!!" "Please no more!!"
He cooed at your expression of unwanted pleasure. He never halted his ministrations and continued fucking you. You were thrashing, trying to get on your hands and knees to crawl away from him but ofc, he won't let that happen. He tuts at you as if you were an disobedient child and places a hand on you abdomen, halting your movements
His thrusts grew erratic while your walls were clenching around him, effectively milking him. Your bouncing tits, crying face, your cunt was the reason that his balls tighten up, flooding and stuffing your cunt with his hot, warm cum. He fucked himself through his orgasm, making sure not even a single drop goes to waste
Summary: When you visit the DAA and pretend to be Caleb’s girlfriend, he gets a taste of what he has wanted all his life and he won’t stop with just a taste.
warnings: pseudo incest HEAVY, noncon, sickfic, dead dove do not eat, caleb is crazy and manipulative, mc thinks it’s all her fault, cries a lot, dom!caleb, titty sucking, cunnilingus, PIV sex, creampie, allusions to babytrapping, inappropriate use of evol
When Caleb asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend so he can fend off his horde of admirers at the DAA, you didn’t bat an eye. Caleb always had admirers and now that his college peers don’t know you’re his sister, you can successfully take on the role of girlfriend and fool them into giving Caleb the peaceful semester he wants. After all, a clingy and jealous girlfriend was a much better deterrent than a clingy and jealous younger sister.
But the amount of people vying for Caleb’s attention has increased ten-fold since you were in middle school. After all, Caleb was a talented pilot, a star athlete, an intelligent student, and a very attractive guy—he was the whole package as everyone at the DAA was so eager to tell you.
So in order to really sell the lie, you had to go the extra mile, at least according to Caleb. That’s why for the whole day, you were pressed to his side, his arm around you, your fingers intertwined.
“We have to pretend to be in love for this to work, pipsqueak.” He had whispered in your ear when you had tensed up the first time he did it. But his usual playful voice put you at ease.
Yeah, he was just trying to sell the ruse. It would be pointless if people weren't convinced, right? So you loosened up and leaned into him the same way you had done countless times before, only this time it was in front of an audience.
What you hadn't done before, though, was kiss. But that was needed to sell the lie too, wasn't it? After all, what kind of boyfriend doesn't kiss his girlfriend when he wins the big game?
And that’s exactly what happened. You were at Caleb’s basketball game, playing the role of the cheerleader girlfriend, perched courtside in his jersey, shouting praises for him over the crowd.
Caleb was amazing as always, the undisputed star of the game, his movements were quick and graceful as he dribbled, jumped, and sank shot after shot, bringing the win home for his team with such ease it had the crowd erupting with cheers for him. When the buzzer signaled the end of the game, his teammates swarmed him on the court, congratulating him with slaps on the back and hearty hugs, once again singing their praises for him.
He returned a few handshakes and quick embraces, but Caleb’s eyes quickly found you, and that was the one thing that never changed, whether you were his sister or his girlfriend. He broke out into a huge smile as your gazes met, and he jogged towards you, chest heaving and skin glistening.
To everyone at the stadium, he must’ve looked like a demigod—a powerful young man filled with vigor and talent. But to you he was just your Caleb, your older brother, rushing to share his triumphs with you because otherwise it would have been joyless.
You had smiled brightly at him, holding out the towel and water bottle as you always did, a ritual you’d become familiar with from years of sibling support. But the words that came out of his mouth weren't the ones you were used to—not exactly.
"That was for you, baby." He had said loudly, his voice carrying over the cheers, and he ignored your offerings entirely, his hands instead cupping your face and bringing it towards him, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss.
A kiss. Caleb had kissed you. Your brother had kissed you in front of a stadium full of people, and you could do nothing but stand still and let him do it. You didn't want to ruin the ruse so publicly, not with the crowd watching, their cheers turning to whistles and catcalls.
The kiss wasn’t scandalous by any means, but it wasn’t chaste either. Not what you imagined your first kiss to be. It wasn’t slow and hesitant like you imagined. No, it was eager, firm, inescapable—probably exactly how a triumphant boyfriend high off his impressive win would kiss his loving girlfriend… but not how a brother should ever celebrate with his sister.
That kiss had tilted your world sideways, leaving you confused and disoriented, but when Caleb finally pulled away, having stolen all the air in your lungs, he just laughed, his eyes gleaming and his face joyous, as if he had actually forgotten what you were for a moment and believed you were really his girlfriend.
His teammates had yanked him away before you could muster a single word, not that your scrambled brain could’ve formed any coherent ones. You stood there, frozen courtside, lips tingling and swollen, staring after your brother as he was swallowed by the celebratory huddle. Despite your ears ringing, it still couldn't drown out the mutters rising from the crowd behind you.
"Is that his girlfriend?"
"They look cute together."
"Aw, they must be in love."
“How did she snag him?”
"Lucky bitch."
Caleb was right. It worked. That’s why he did it. It was all for the ruse. That’s it. No need to overthink it.
____________________________
You didn’t feel up to going out for drinks with Caleb’s teammates later that day, the idea of more pretense, more touching, more kissing, made your stomach churn. But all his teammates' girlfriends were going to be there and if you ditch him so soon then people might get suspicious. After all, you were only in Skyhaven to visit him and support him so why would you let him go alone to the afterparty?
The booth you were all seated in was cramped, a dozen bodies squeezed together in a tangle of laughter and booze… and it was normal, perfectly normal, that you ended up seated in Caleb's lap.
You'd done it countless times before so it wasn’t the intimacy that was making you uneasy this time or sending prickles of anxiety across your skin. No, it was Caleb's lips brushing the curve of your neck, warm and incessant, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, "Loosen up, pipsqueak. You're making it look like you're my hostage instead of my girlfriend." He gave you that easy chuckle you knew so well, but underneath it lurked a darker note that put you on edge.
It scared you a little because you didn’t understand where it was coming from, but you couldn’t run from it or even question it, not without ruining everything for Caleb, and you wouldn’t do that to him.
And so you had settled more fully in his lap, your back pressed to his chest, the heat of his body burning through you. His hands, large and calloused, roamed up and down your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, dipping dangerously close to the swell of your breasts before retreating. Each stroke pulled at your sanity, making you unravel.
It’s okay. This is all for show. You just have to stay still and let him do what he needs to do. He has done so much for you growing up, he has given you everything you ever asked for, spoiled you to no end, the least you could do is trust him. Your brother would never hurt you.
His friends teased him relentlessly, their voices slurred with alcohol and friendly banter. "Look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Can't keep your hands off her, huh, Caleb?" One laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast.
Another chimed in, "Now I get why Caleb was never interested in any of the girls here. Man, you're whipped. She's got you wrapped around her finger."
Caleb chuckled against your skin, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss to your pulse point, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into your flesh. "What can I say? She's irresistible." He murmured, turning your head towards him and kissed you in front of everyone once again.
This kiss was deeper, more hungry, more reckless. His tongue pressed into your mouth, and you could taste the beer on him. That must be why he’s being like this. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s okay. You won’t embarrass him.
"Get a room, you two." One of his teammates groaned teasingly, and the others joined in with their own laughter. It was all so normal to them. You and Caleb were a couple in love, of course you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off each other.
They didn’t know he was your brother. They didn’t know how wrong this was. And they can’t know. It would ruin Caleb’s future. You had to be a good sister and protect his secret in his moment of weakness. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll feel terrible about all of this. He would cry and beg for your forgiveness and you’d call him silly and say it’s all forgotten.
You repeat that mantra in your head over and over again, trying to keep yourself calm, trying not to burst into tears in front of his friends… but when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, when you felt the hardness in his pants against your core, you suddenly couldn’t breathe.
"Caleb!" You shouted, pushing him back and breaking the kiss.
The outburst startled everyone at the table, including Caleb. He looks at you warily, as if he’s waiting to see if you’ll expose the whole thing. You throw a furtive glance around, and see that everyone is looking at you, waiting for an explanation for your sudden outburst.
You could stop it all now. But you couldn’t do this to Caleb.
Forcing a smile, you reach out to stroke his chest clumsily, acting like you’re drunker than you were. "I want to dance."You whined cutely, batting your lashes in exaggerated playfulness, your fingers playing with the dogtag you had gifted him when he was accepted into the DAA. "Can we dance? Please?"
He relaxed then, his face breaking out into that devastating smile of his, the smile that could lead you to ruin. He pulled you up from his lap effortlessly. "Anything for you, baby."
He leads you to the dance floor, where you had thought you might get a bit of reprieve from the acting that was way more intense and methodical than you ever imagined it would be. But on the dancefloor, Caleb is even closer to you, pressing his body against yours, the song playing at the moment giving him the perfect opportunity to keep you close.
His hands guide your hips as he moves you both to the sultry song blaring from the speakers. His head dips down, lips brushing your ear before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just enough to leave a mark.
"They're watching, pipsqueak." He admonishes sliding his hands down to cup your ass, moving you more sensually against him, and you’re sure to everyone else you look like a horny couple dry humping on the dancefloor. "You have to sell them on your performance of the smitten girlfriend."
And again you let him dictate your actions. You try not to think of what you’re doing too much. You’ve danced with Caleb before. You’ve only really danced with Caleb. No other boys dared approach you when they knew he was your big brother.
See, even though Caleb had many public admirers, your own admirers stayed secret, none of them daring to cross your protective older brother.
But like everything today, this dance was a twisted version of something you had been so used to. He has never danced like this with you before, and you certainly never felt this part of him pressed against your hip when he had danced with you at prom.
You try to keep calm. This would all be over soon, you tell yourself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. After tonight’s performance, no one would question your identity as Caleb’s girlfriend. No one would dare bother him anymore and Caleb could finally go back to being your older brother. Just your brother.
_______________________________
You were both drunk by the end of the night, the world a hazy blur of sights and sounds, Caleb more so than you with his flushed cheeks and loosened inhibitions. He would never do this to you if he wasn’t drunk. He just wasn’t aware of what he was doing.
Still his protectiveness shines through and he refuses to let you go home like this, drunk and vulnerable. Anyone could take advantage of you, he had said. Of course. Caleb is right. You’re safest with him. And you don’t have to worry about keeping on an act anymore. His friends are all gone now.
Well, except for Gideon—his best friend and dormmate. And you grow anxious at the thought that the ruse could continue. But when you step foot into the small dorm room, Gideon is nowhere to be seen.
"Where is Gideon?" You ask, looking around the room as if you would find him hidden in the closet or under the bed, unable to let your guard down just yet.
"He left for the night so I can spend more time with my girlfriend." Caleb laughed, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it with a soft click.
He goes to sit down on what you assumed was his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, his long legs spread wide as he leans back on his arms, muscles flexing under his shirt. His gaze rakes over you slowly, from head to toe, eyes hooded, the strange darkness in them making you squirm. "Said he saw how much we missed each other and wanted to give us a night together to… catch up."
"Haha… very funny, Gege." You rolled your eyes, trying to play off your nervousness as sarcasm, but your heart was hammering in your chest and you were almost certain he could hear it even from over there.
Why was he still going with this? The audience is gone, the ruse is no longer necessary. Yet here he was, staring at you like he wanted to eat you up. "You've had your fun already."
But before you can step far away from him, his arm reaches forward with lightning speed, snatching your wrist and yanking you on top of him. You land on his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the heat of his body searing through your clothes as his hands settle on your waist, holding you in place.
"Have I?" He murmurs, his voice dropping, his face inches from yours, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. "I think the fun is just starting."
His hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. The other hand dips lower, gripping your ass and pulling you down harder against him, letting you feel the full, throbbing length of his erection straining against his jeans—there was no denying it, what he wants.
“Caleb, stop messing around. Let me go so I can change and we can sleep.” You protest still, your voice full of exasperation and dread as you squirm in his lap.
“I don’t want to sleep.” He counters, his dark gaze dropping to your dress. “But I can help you take this off.”
Without waiting for permission, his fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, the cool metal teeth parting as he tugs it down, exposing the bare skin of your back to the cold air, his touch burning you like a brand as he tries to peel the fabric away. Instinctively, your hands fly up to press the dress against your chest, desperately holding it in place. It’s flimsy and weak but it’s all you got.
“Caleb! What are you doing?” Your voice cracks with fear and shock.
“Helping my girlfriend out of her pretty little dress.” He replies easily, his breath hot against your collarbone as he leans in closer. “Did you wear a dress this short to make me happy… or angry?”
His hands slide to your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh where the hem rode up too high, exposing more skin than you'd intended. “When I said I wanted all eyes on us, I didn’t mean it like that.” There was a jealous edge to his words, one that shouldn’t be there but you can’t deny you were familiar with. Caleb was never shy about his possessiveness over you. All your life you had thought it was because of his protectiveness, but now you’re starting to think differently.
“Come on.” He continues, his voice dropping to a growl that makes goosebumps cover your skin. “Gideon left so I can have some alone time with my girlfriend. Don’t let his sacrifice go to waste.” His grin is playful, but his eyes hold no humor, only a hunger that is waiting to devour you.
“Caleb, you’re not funny.” You shoot back, still trying desperately to remain in denial, but even your words come out breathless, weakened by the way his hips shift under you, pressing his cock more insistently against your pussy through the thin layers of fabric.
“Do I look like I’m laughing, pipsqueak?” He asks, and you suck in a sharp breath as you meet his gaze—the intense, dark look in his eyes like a storm swallowing every hint of playfulness you’ve come to expect to see there. Something is wrong with Caleb. Your brother is not well. It’s the alcohol. It’s making him delirious.
“Caleb—” You try to speak some reason into him, but he doesn’t even let you finish your thought, his hands roaming higher up your body, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the dress.
He silences you with a kiss, fierce and demanding, his lips crashing against yours as his tongue forces itself into your mouth. And in that distracting moment, he seizes the opportunity, yanking your dress down your chest with a harsh tug, the fabric pooling at your waist and baring your breasts to the cool air—to him. You whimper, pulling back from the kiss, your nipples hardening instantly under his heated stare. Panic swells within you, and you try to scramble away, to put distance between you, but he holds you in place with a sudden surge of his Evol, pinning your hips to his, and your body arches against him involuntarily as his cock rubs against your clothed pussy..
“Don’t run away now, pips.” He growls, voice rough with need and eyes devouring the sight of you half-exposed and vulnerable in his lap. “You’re not going to leave your boyfriend all hard and needy, are you? That’s cruel.”
He dips his head down, trailing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your chest. Each kiss is harsh and possessive—his lips suckling at your skin while his teeth leave stinging red parks across your sensitive flesh, burning you up despite your mind begging your body not to react.
How could you not? When his lips close around your nipple, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth, his tongue rolling in slow, swirling motions around the hardening bud in a way that makes your back arch involuntarily, pushing more of your breast into his eager mouth.
His free hand claims your other breast, kneading it with firm strokes, his fingers splaying wide to cover the entire thing, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in lazy, maddening loops before pinching it sharply between his thumb and forefinger. The contrast of pain and pleasure rip a gasp from your throat, your body betraying you as a fresh wave of heat flooded between your thighs, your panties growing slick with arousal despite the whirlwind of shame and denial screaming at you in your mind.
Then he switches sides, his mouth latching onto the neglected nipple with equal hunger, sucking it deeply into his mouth while his now-wet fingers roll the other, slick with his saliva, amplifying every nerve ending until your breasts throb under his touch and you squirm restlessly in his lap.
The Caleb you'd known—the protective, older brother—fades further into darkness, devoured by this feral imitation of him that bears his eyes but possesses none of his warmth, its dark gaze flicking up to meet yours as he works you over, watching your reactions with a predatory delight. You whimper his name in vain, your hands tangling in his messed up hair.
But he doesn’t listen. And your body, your traitorous body, grinds against his hard cock, an unwelcome ache building unbearably in your belly.
“Caleb, please, please. You’re drunk.” You beg, your voice trembling with desperation, pathetic tears welling in your eyes as you clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. “Stop this now, and we can forget this whole thing happened—please, Caleb, just... I’ll pretend it was all the alcohol.”
You expect him to pull back at any moment now, to burst out laughing at your teary face and tease you about how much of a crybaby you still are. To reveal that this had all been a test to remind you that you still need your older brother to protect you and that none of this meant anything.
But instead he glares at you with a clarity you hadn’t expected from the drunk man. “No. I’m finally in my right mind.” His hands roam along your bare skin with possessiveness, tracing the curves he'd only ever touched in innocence before. “I got a taste of what I’ve wanted all my life, and I won’t let go again.”
In the blink of an eye, he has you pushed back onto the bed, this figure looming over you and blocking out whatever little light is in the room. Before you can argue with him or question him about what the hell he means, he grabs your dress from around your waist and yanks it down, pulling it along with your panties down your legs and off your body, leaving you bare.
Caleb's gaze rakes over you hungrily, wildly—from the swell of your breasts that are marked from his earlier kisses, to the quiver of your belly, down to the glistening folds between your legs.
You press your thighs together, trying to hide away from him but he doesn’t appreciate that. Grunting, he grabs your thighs, his calloused palms pushing them apart roughly, spreading you wide open for him before you feel the weight of his Evol taking over to keep you splayed apart while his hands start to roam.
“Fuck, pips.” He groans darkly, licking his lips as one of his fingers traces the slick seam of your entrance, gathering the evidence of your body's betrayal. “Look how wet you are for me. Dirty girl.”
“It’s not my fault.” You whimper, tears spilling over now, their hot tracks burning down your cheeks as shame makes your stomach churn, and yet your hips twitch involuntarily under his uninvited touch. “You were touching me all night... can’t help it.”
“Shhh, dumb baby.” He soothes, but his words reek of condescension as he leans down to hover just above your core, his breath fanning hotly against your sensitive pussy. “This is exactly why I need to protect you. Can't have you opening your legs for just anyone.”
His tongue darts out then, lapping at you with slow strokes that make stars burst behind your eyelids, the taste of you seeming to his satisfaction, if his deep groan of approval is any indication.
He doesn’t maintain his restraint for long however, quickly devolving into a wild animal as he eats you up. His lips suck greedily at your clit, his tongue flicking and swirling in messy patterns, slurping up your arousal like he was starving for it, the wet, obscene sounds echoing in the small dorm room. His saliva mixes with your juices, dripping down his chin as he eats you out sloppily, nipping every now and then at the junction of your thighs as if he’s letting out a bit of the aggression he feels towards you before soothing the skin with broad, flat laps of his tongue that have your hips bucking involuntarily to push your pussy back against his face.
But through your lust-induced haze, you register the feeling of his fingers pressing against your entrance, thick and firm, teasing you before easing just one inside you, the single digit stretching your tightness with a sharp burn that makes you gasp and clench instinctively.
You've never had anything inside you before, not even your own curious touches going this far, and now it's your brother's finger invading you, curling around to explore your once untouched walls, pumping in shallow thrusts that build a nauseating, aching pressure that makes you want to rip your skin off.
"So fucking tight, pips." He murmurs against your pussy, and you can hear the roughness of his lust even with his voice muffled against you. You try to squirm under him to no avail, your body resisting the unfamiliar intrusion even as it slicks him further with arousal, your strength no match to his Evol.
Only when you finally start to adjust, your whimpers turning breathier, your pussy yielding to him, does he add the second finger, pushing it in alongside the first with the same methodical movements, so unlike how he ate you out before. It seems that even through whatever evil has taken over his body, he was careful not to hurt you. At least not in this way.
Still, no matter how careful he is, the stretch still hurts, and Caleb sees it on your face.
"Shh, you have to loosen up for me, baby. " He coos, diving back in with his tongue flicking wildly over your clit to distract you from the pain as his fingers now fuck you open in tandem—thrusting deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you that suddenly has you keening, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as your back arches clean off the bed but your thighs stay pinned down with his Evol.
But when he adds a third finger, even that isn’t enough to distract you, and you cry out in pain. “Caleb, please, please.”
But your pleas fall on deaf ears, Caleb much too preoccupied with the sight before him to stop now, his dark gaze fixed on where his fingers disappear into your slick heat, pumping relentlessly as your body struggles to accommodate him.
“Fuck, pipsqueak.” He breathes out heavily, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as he fucks you open a few more times before he pulls his fingers completely out. He holds them up in the air between you, your arousal a glistening mess all over them, tinged with a redness that seems to enrapture him.
“You’re a virgin….” He groans, the words dripping with raw lust and a twisted sense of triumph, his hooded eyes falling onto your trembling body, raking over you like you're a prize all wrapped up just for him. And you know at that moment that you’re going to be ruined—to be marked by your brother in ways that can never be undone. “You kept yourself for me.”
You want to argue with him, to snap back that you didn't stay a virgin for him. You stayed one because of him, because of his overprotectiveness that scared every boy who dared glance your way, his inappropriate jealousy that you stupidly made excuses for countless times before leaving no room for anyone else.
But now is not the time, not when he quickly discards his clothes, his shirt flung across the room, his belt weighing his pants down as they clink against the floor, leaving him as bare as you are. But his body isn’t like yours, it’s toned, sculpted from the military training and the countless sports he likes to partake in. He could overpower you even without his Evol.
But it’s not his muscles that scare you… it’s his cock, thick and veined, throbbing between his legs as he crawls up your body. It nudges insistently at your entrance, slick with precum as it pressing against your swollen pussy.
You know you’re ruined and yet you still beg for mercy, hoping you could somehow get through to him before it’s too late.
“Caleb, you don’t want to do this.” You plead as if you can’t feel just how much he wants it, your voice breaking as fresh tears spill down your cheeks, your hands reaching for him in a futile effort to push him away, palms flat against his chest where you feel his heart thundering wildly. “You’re my brother. I love you. I trust you. Please don’t ruin that.”
“That was your first mistake, baby.” He growled, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you. “Thinking I’d be satisfied with just being your good, obedient older brother.” He pushed inside you then, inch by merciless inch, the stretch burning like wildfire as he takes your virginity, stealing what should have never been his. “That I wouldn’t want more—fuck, you’re so tight.”
“No. I hate you. I hate you.” You cry out, the words spilling out of you as hot as your tears, scalding your mouth with proclamations you never thought you would utter at your brother, your Caleb.
“No you don’t.” He grabbed your face roughly, hips rocking forward until he was fully inside you, buried to the hilt in your heat, filling you so completely there was no room for breath. “Don't lie to me. Don't say such cruel things to your Gege.”
His face is dark with a fury you’ve never seen directed at you before, his hips pushing into you harshly, as if he means to punish you for your misbehaviour. Long ago, he had made you promise not to say those exact words to him, even in jest, and it seems he hasn’t forgotten about that, even if he has forgotten about his promise to protect you from everyone… but maybe he never included himself in that promise.
“Caleb—Gege, please, s-stop… please, j-just slow down.” Your hands scramble for grip on his muscular arms, your nails scraping the skin as his ruthless thrusts make stars of pleasure and nebulas of pain burst behind your eyelids, both warring feelings so intense you feel you’re going to pass out.
But he doesn’t falter, his cock filling you up over and over again, so big, so hard, forcing your pussy to take him. “Say it. Say you're lying.” He insists, eyes wild as his thrusts punctuate each word, driving himself deeper and deeper into you.
“I'm lying. I'm lying!” You sob, hoping your submission would placate him. But it’s not a lie. You don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. Even if he does something so despicable to you.
But Caleb wasn’t satisfied with just that, and his merciless treatment of your pliant body continued as he leaned closer, his sweat-slicked forehead pressing to yours, his breath mingling with your gasps. “Say you love me. Say you love this.”
You pause, the gasp your battered lungs muster barely making it past your lips. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be demanding that of you. He knows that. At least he knew that once, but something broke inside of him today and you feel an unbearable sense of guilt gnawing at you as you think that you must’ve had a hand in it.
You should have never pretended to be his girlfriend. You should have never let him kiss you. You should have never let him touch you that way. You did this to him. You ruined him and now he’s ruining you.
“I-I… I love you, Gege… I love this.” You choke out, hoping to atone for what you’ve done to him.
Caleb’s face perks up, gazing into your eyes eagerly, swallowing up the lie he gave you to feed him. “Yeah?” He kisses you then, still overbearing but softer now, his lips molding to yours before he releases your face, his hands sliding to your hips for better leverage. “Like Gege's cock inside your virgin pussy?” He asks for more and more, and you are helpless to do anything but give into his greed.
“Yes... love it so much, Gege.” You shiver, trying to mask the hesitation lingering in your tone so he wouldn’t be rough with you again. You don’t know if you sound convincing or if he’s so far gone he would believe anything he wants to hear from your lips but it becomes easier and easier to lie as the pain gripping your body gives way to a pleasure that is almost as disturbing, his gentler approach forcing your body to yield to him in a wholly different way, but you force yourself not to fight it.
You’ll let him have this tonight. It’s better to think you’ve given it willingly than to face the reality that your brother did this to you.
“Good girl.” He moans out, and although he was fucking you more carefully now, his big cock still burns every time he buries it inside of you, splitting you open from the core. “My good girl. Did you want this? Did you tease me so I'd break and take what is mine?”
Caleb’s face swims through the tears stinging your eyes, making you see two of him—a Caleb who is so overtaken he just wants to pretend that you’d wanted this all along, that he’s not a monster for what he’s doing to you, and a Caleb who is cruel and calculative, who wants you to implicate yourself for his actions so you wouldn’t blame him for this outcome later.
Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t matter. You’ll do it anyway. You'll do anything to not lose the one person who actually loves you—and he knows that too well.
“I did, Gege. I wanted you to take me. I'm sorry.” You weep, your words a balm to his insanity.
“You hurt Gege so bad, pips.” He admonishes, one hand cupping your cheek as he kisses away your tears, his body moving with yours in a slow, intimate pace. “But it's okay. I forgive you.”
“Thank you... “ You cry out, relieved you’ve finally managed to calm him down. You always do. After all, you’re his beloved little sister.
“Does it hurt, baby?” He coos as if he was tending to a bruised knee and not talking about his cock splitting you open.
You nod pitifully, leaning into his touch even as he makes no effort to stop.
“That’s because you’re tensing up, pipsqueak. Relax and open up for me and it’ll feel good.” He coaxes you, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in a steady rhythm. “Your body will learn to recognize this part of me, and soon enough, you’ll be wet at just the sight of me. I’ll make sure of it—train you until you crave your brother’s cock like he needs your pussy.”
His words make you want to recoil. Does he want this to happen again? It won’t be over after tonight?
“Shit, baby, loosen up.” Caleb groans as your body tenses around him at the thought, working him up further.
You grab him by the necklace you’d gifted him when he first started at the DAA—the charm that symbolised your unbreakable connection—and use it to pull him towards you, crashing your lips with his and opening your mouth, knowing he’d take the chance to devour you and you willingly let him, anything so you won’t have to think about this harrowing future he’s fantasizing about.
Caleb groans into your mouth, taking your kiss for consent. His thrusts deepen, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency as he buries himself inside you over and over, the repetitive motions yanking you by the hair and dragging you towards an orgasm you’re not prepared for. You didn’t even know that a human could be in so much pain and yet still be able to cum.
"That's it, pips." He coaxes, his breath hot against your lips, his large body looming over yours, sweaty and flexing, the friction of his pelvis on your clit sending sparks of pleasure shooting along your every nerve. "I can feel your pussy trying to milk my cock. You really want this, huh? You were made for this—for Gege to fuck you senseless."
You whimper, tears streaking in unending torrents down your cheeks but he heeds them no mind. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing in firm, insistent circles that match the rhythm of his cock plunging into your slick pussy. The sensation rapidly becomes overwhelming, your walls clamping around him like a vice as your orgasm hurls towards you. "Caleb... I can't... it's too much." You gasp nails raking down his back, leaving red trails that only spur him on.
"Yes, you can." He insists, thrusting harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the dorm room. "Cum for me, baby—cum on for your Gege."
And your body gives it to him, as if it recognizes that this is your brother who spent all your life giving into your every whim and desire, would you really deny him the first thing he ever asked for?
Your body arches into him, so close you feel you’d get stuck together forever, so close Caleb can’t thrust into you anymore, instead settling for swivelling his hips around, rubbing his cock all along your walls as they grip and contract around him.
"Fuck, pips— so tight, so perfect." His mouth hangs open, his eyes completely glazed over as he bullies his cock so deeply inside you, you swear you can feel the hot cum spilling from it flooding your womb.
Oh god, oh god, you haven’t used any protection.
“Caleb!” You gasp, staring up at him with an icy panic that grips your heart and almost causes it to cease beating.
But Caleb just smiles down at you, knowingly, and kisses your lips—shutting you up every time you try to speak, his cock staying buried inside you, plugging your hole and sealing his seed inside.
Finally, you stop fighting, all the anger, horror and shame draining from your body like blood from a mortal wound, leaving you weak and pliant in his embrace. It’s only then that he pulls away from your bruised lips, his thumb brushing them gently as he speaks his promises to you. “It’s okay, pipsqueak. I’ll take care of you. Every bit of you. No one's ever going to come between us now.”
A/N: I am being driven mad by all the lads fics i wanna write, mostly yandere caleb lol i got two based on chasing summer (one where caleb is a mean, unhinged yandere similar to this one and another where he is a manipulate softer yandere), three not based on a memory (two versions of the same yandere caleb story where he takes all your first times so you don’t give them to someone else, one soft and one mean, and a 3rd one where you’re the yandere who won’t share him with others), one based of xavier’s celestial yearn, one based on raf’s fires of devotion and probably many more ahhhh
an officer stops you on a winding, wooded road at night.
pairing. sylus x reader
cw. corrupt cop! sylus, power imbalance, coercion, noncon, nsfw, mean! sylus, scoundrel behavior, smut, yandere undertones, unreliable narrator & ambiguous perception; dark content ahead: proceed at your own risk
note. ahem… hey girlies. been a minute 👀 so this is probably the meanest i’ve ever done Sylus- fair warning. also, is this kinktober slop? maybe, maybe not… but i kinda like it regardless 👀 pls be nice. ya girl is rusty but trying :,) 💕 since this is a silly kinktober thing don’t take it seriously if it’s bad lol :,) bye
wc. 6.8k
A brisk wind swoops low, ruffling the fir trees alongside the road.
They give a sway, but there’s no reaction beyond that.
In the middle of nowhere, so out of the way you’d be more confused than anything to see another car- just a part of your commute, unfortunately- the terrain is different from the city. Evergreens stretching for the sky and stopping just short of the clouds.
You doubt even the worst of windstorms could knock them down— actually, their biggest threat is rot from their own, damp soil eating them from the inside out, spoiling them. You’ve passed a few stumps, so decayed they lean on the trees beside them, bark crumbling off like cookie, yet even in death the plants somehow look majestic.
There’s something to say about size in nature. How it often seems to equate to grandeur.
So despite the hike to work every day, toing and froing between your rural home and bustling Linkon, you can still appreciate the scenery.
You take a turn. You can’t see the bend ahead until you’ve already made it, and the visibility isn’t helped by the thin fog rolling in. But again, drivers are seldom seen in these parts... Not that you’ve completely stopped being alert of your surroundings- with all the towering obstacles flanking you that’s a recipe for disaster- but you allow yourself to relax a bit.
For all of a few minutes, anyway, before looking at one of the mirrors and doing an immediate double take.
Someone is tailing you.
Sorry- not just someone. An officer.
And no you’re not doing anything illegal. But you can’t help but tense up regardless, check your speed (all good, of course; even if almost always alone on this road, you don’t use the solitude as an opportunity to break the law- even if your ETA might like if you did), your lights.
The whole path is shaded under the canopy. The leaves too thick to see the sun if it was there; now, it disappears under a swath of clouds, steadily sinking low as the sugary, evening sky deepens into a blazing blue.
The last of its light, just a spark really, fades from the hood of your car.
The coming of nightfall only worsens that pit of unease in your belly, and you find yourself asking why the unwanted company at this hour.
But it’s fine. You’re not doing anything you shouldn’t be. Your house- the little cabin handed down to you, humble and rickety but cozy, the best you could do- isn’t far off.
Some miles more, a few songs on the radio, and you’ll be there.
Something you like is playing now, put on loop. But it crackles over the radio. Static abruptly spiking.
Perhaps that is the one and only indicator given to you that something is about to go wrong.
Go wrong it does.
Another uncertain glance tossed to the square reflector and all the color seeps from your face as the perch above the car behind you lights up.
Reds and blues flash, bouncing off the trees as they darken around you. And right when you think it’s a little theatrical for just the two of you on one road, the sirens wail.
Great.
Heart in your throat, you pull up ahead and to the side.
It’s fine. It’s fine. The officer’s probably just… Just on an evening patrol down a new route- or happens to be passing through and raised a brow at your presence.
I mean, there’s no telling who you could be, yet even as countless reassurances flip through your brain, you squint in the mirror as he smoothly parks behind you. Trying to make out a face behind those tinted windows.
A woman? A man? Tall and lanky or does he have a donut in hand? Tonight’s already derailing fast, but you wouldn’t be so upset if you got off with a light warning from Officer Friendly rather than a dictatorial cop on a power trip.
If nothing else, one is certainly better than the other.
Your wheel is damp with sweat by the time that door swings open.
The polished black boot that steps out precedes the dark aviators and the sharp, stubbled jaw as he heads over.
The gravel thuds underfoot. The rhythm of his heels making one powerful metronome.
And as he approaches— tall, yes, you note that, but not lanky. No, he’s six foot something, broad, and looks very capable of whatever the hell the job requires of him.
That doesn’t calm your nerves by much. Even if it should.
Call it a day’s fatigue or even gut instinct, but some voice in the back of your head is squeaking for you to leave.
But… you don’t particularly like the sound of being cuffed and hurled into the backseat of some cop’s cruiser all because you pettily resisted what’s probably a routine, harmless check-up.
He’ll ask a few questions, you remind yourself, maybe throw in some small talk about the weather to make the whole thing less awkward. And then you’ll be on your merry way.
It’s not a big deal.
His shades stay on. Even when he swaggers up to your car window and you hurry to roll it down with a polite, if not timid smile to spare yourself the knock.
Shadows set quickly and emphasize the hewn structure of his face, his jaw, as a pure blue clings to him like a second skin. Before long, the moonlight will replace it.
You’re sure that this whole ordeal will be over by then, though.
You assume he’s looking at you, though it’s impossible to confirm. You don’t catch so much as a glint under the lens as wayward threads of his silvery hair fall over them. Effortlessly stylish.
The added layer of anonymity certainly doesn’t lessen the tension plaguing you— nor the lack of a badge as your eyes sweep over him and linger on the leather standard jacket, his identification just out of view.
The guy braces a hand against the roof of your car.
“Evening,” he greets.
More than definitely, there’s a gun wedged between himself and his waistband, yet you think with the frame of a veritable model and a voice like syrup, the man must be perfectly dangerous without it.
Save for a spray of clouds, the skies are peacefully clear. The sound of his voice is so deep and rich that the first idea brought to mind is thunder still.
Something in the depths of your soul responds with a tremble. A pink tongue darting out to wet his lip when he says, “Do you know why I pulled you over, Miss?”
Cliche... But no, really, that opener is to be expected.
In spite of that, it does plant a seed of doubt in your belly.
There’s just a second or two of silence you take to ponder your response (first impressions are very important, after all) as well as how long he could’ve been following you. Depending on the answer to that niggling question- one you quietly put on the backburner to focus on the present- he should’ve been able to thoroughly take note of your safe driving.
It’s your turn to wet your lip— not out of conscious thought as nerves leave your stomach a whirling mess.
A polite, if not somewhat tight smile is what you give him, yet even then you can’t help the rather unprepared sound that escapes you. “A-Ah, no,” you chuckle to recover, “I can’t say I do.”
He chuckles back.
A bit meaner about it, though.
In the distance, loud only because the window is open, a crow caws.
And if you’re starting to feel uneasy, that ambience should be held at least partly accountable.
The wind chafes at your cheeks. There for a beat and then whisking out, absconding through the pine.
Again, you find yourself quietly wishing for solitude but pretend otherwise as he puts a hand on his belt, adjusting his stance.
The air about him is… oddly refined for a man of his career— oh, the professionalism is hardly a surprise, his field has its standards, you know that, but the cool sophistication is. For a moment you think he’s better suited to be the chairman of some big shot company, or at the very least chief of police.
The authority in his tone would corroborate that.
Seems to study you for a moment, then dips his chin and goes, “Is this… vehicle yours, Miss?”
First of all, you don’t miss the sardonicism leaching off the word, and secondly, more importantly—
“Yes,” you assert, rather gobsmacked. It’s hard not to be when that ask came so out of the blue that you can’t stop your brow from furrowing in time, most of your propriety shattered in an instant.
“Of course it is,” you murmur as damage control when his lips part, head giving the slightest of cocks at you. “W-Why? Is something wrong?”
Officer hums. Mentally, you’ve decided that this matter must be very important- he wouldn’t have stopped you otherwise- so when he looks down, or you think he does, and he thumbs over his belt to ponder something, almost bored, it makes you squint.
“I ran your license plate, but nothing came back,” He cooly informs, yet if you didn’t know any better you’d think it’s amusement that lightens his drawl, “I guess I was hoping you’d tell me.”
There it is again, that crow squawking, circling somewhere overhead. On this go-around, it marks you with irritation.
Maybe it’s just your anxiety translating to anger, but the longer this headstrong guy stands outside your car and indirectly holds you hostage, keeping you from a warm shower and a meal, the more you grow impatient for it.
“Have you registered this vehicle?”
You’re being polite, you are, “Yes, sir. It’s been registered,” but a particle of curtness slips in and you hope he’s as understanding as he is willing to run your plate for no apparent reason.
He bluntly asks, “Do you have an ID on you, Miss?
You blink, “yes,” already reaching for the pocket of your jeans, and at this point, perhaps you should be thankful he doesn’t pull his gun out and tell you slow. He’s that suspicious of you.
With a velvety hum, he takes the card and studies it.
For two seconds, anyway.
You get the feeling there isn’t anything there he hasn’t already seen.
Handing it back, “Not bad,” he says apropos to seemingly nothing, yet it’s the slip of his glasses down his nose that makes something seize in your chest as you catch a flash of vibrant, carmine red.
Free of that ID, that gloved hand now rests on the open sill of your window. Too close for comfort, maybe, but that’s not where most of your concern lies right now.
“So… C-Can I go?” You don’t mean to stutter.
Again he hums, sounding like he’s using all his will to coax it from the barrel of his chest- clearly unimpressed with you- and then he reaches up to remove those shades entirely.
Viewing him completely unhindered now— God, he’s every bit handsome and then some, but you’re so bristled by the encounter that you can’t even find it in you to admire him.
His garnet gaze sweeps along you; you can see that now, too, the glint of… interest-? whatever it is, it’s unbridled- that takes up the bulk of his eyes, the whites of them barely there.
A little unnerving, yes.
Again. Other pressing matters at hand.
“If you can prove to me you’re telling the truth. Then by all means.” He lilts, not particularly kind.
Linkon is a fairly decent city; its people don’t have a reputation quite as spick and span as the folks do in the wooded areas you live, sure, but they’re nice. Having dealt with their kind for so long, he really shouldn’t be so suspicious of you.
Evidently, he is.
And you’ll put this on your life, your mother, even—
You haven’t the slightest clue why.
Your mouth, parted in an ‘O’ shape, is slack before you even go to speak, practically throwing your license back into his hands.
“Everything you need to know is right here, Sir. I- I don’t understand.”
Ever polite, the bastard declines to take it. “Oh no, I saw enough.”
He sounds overly smug as he does, and the vestige of humor that reshapes his face, scant in nature yet impossible to ignore as it curls those pouty, lush lips, only ruffles you further.
“So what’s wrong with it?” You all but deflate, withering in on yourself as the stirrings of defeat sink in. Your license should tell him everything he needs to know.
Whatever initial optimism you held- mainly the idea that you’d be getting home in no time- is long dead.
For a moment, the officer simply contemplates.
“…With your ID? Oh, nothing’s wrong with that. It’s the real thing, alright,” he observes, tone oddly light as his eyes rake over your expression- no doubt one full of abject confusion. You can’t imagine how stupid you look right now, caught off guard and at a lack for words.
A few years down the line, this memory will haunt you for all its humiliation, you’re sure.
“Like I said, Sweetie,” the word drips with sheer condescension, marinated in it. In that moment you feel so, so uncertain of yourself, made so small and insignificant, that you have no choice but to offer up a quiet prayer and hope that the man doesn’t notice the way your brow flutters with raw, unexpected hurt.
Nonetheless, something tells you not much evades his scrutiny.
“…It’s the registration that’s the issue. For whatever reason, this vehicle isn’t tracking back to you. So. Until you contribute something to help me solve this- or… confess,” he tacks on nonchalantly, “You won’t be leaving. This could be somebody else’s car, after all,” he finishes, long fingers briefly tapping against your car.
“I’m sure we both want to go home, wouldn’t you agree? Let’s make this quick.”
After the initial bitterness sets within you and leaves, it’s puzzlement that has its turn.
“What?”
He sighs at that, not conveying one emotion in particular.
It’s boredom, though, terrible and blatant, when he warns, “It’s not advisable to lie in the face of the law. Playing dumb can fall under that umbrella, too. Personally, I wouldn’t try either one.”
You can’t comment on the veracity of that statement- you’d hope he’s telling you nothing but the pure, unadulterated truth- but that’s not what your brain struggles to process as a little knot forms between your eyebrows.
Amidst your intense observation of him, treating every little tell his body language offered up like a tutorial to placate him, you almost didn’t pick up on it…
The discrepancy between his two statements.
“Are you saying this is somebody else’s car? That I stole it?”
He adjusts his belt, brazen. “It was implied.”
The moment this whole ordeal started feeling like Officer Friendly here was stalling on something, you can’t pinpoint, but you don’t waste any time with your own response.
“But that’s not what you said at first- You said the vehicle was unregistered. So which is true, Officer?”
For what seems like the umpteenth time, your stare thoughtlessly dips below, searching for the badge number, a name- anything at all to identify him.
Nothing.
When your eyes meet his again, all pretenses are thrown out the window. What remains in that gaze is frigid and unchecked— a raw desire for something that no longer bothers to cover its tracks.
Although it can’t be, it feels like an eon that drags by, your throat steadily tightening in the silence.
Still, there’s somehow not enough time to take back your snarky comment and say you’re sorry as his face darkens- that damned bird cawing one last time, effectively frying your patience- something undeniably predatory assuming whatever facade he maintained just seconds ago.
“So you were listening. Alright,” he purrs, smooth as ever despite having just been clocked, “Kitten, why don’t we put your other facilities to the test then?”
Okay, you tell yourself before cold panic sets in- corrupt or not: surely he cares enough about his job to not put it all on the line in a single interaction.
“Get out. Let’s check your sobriety.”
You balk, cringing back in your seat. The headrest remains stiff behind you- all your sinking into it be damned.
“You- You can’t be serious.”
“Really? Huh… But I’m in a very serious mood tonight,” he breathes in, then out, cocking his head like some beast given a challenge.
If the pointed coolness of his tone means anything, it’s that he’ll accept it.
Red eyes sharpen, open and rapt. They remind you of pools of blood; a lake of hellfire as he stares down the barrel of his nose at you.
Stupid— you must look so stupid.
“I won’t repeat myself: Get out. Stand on the road. If you’re worried… Well, don’t be. I don’t see any passersby,… do you? If you fail and embarrass yourself, an audience won’t be a concern.”
Despite his attempt to console you, it seems to have the opposite effect; the reminder that you are absolutely alone with him out here- with no hope of rescue or a flare to shoot off into the night sky- sends something akin to nausea coursing through you, tongue feeling like sand in your mouth.
A moment of silence passes.
To honor the death of your pride and whatever was left of the decent day you were having, perhaps.
He doesn’t tell you again, true to his word, but instead parries your hesitance with a foreboding, quiet stare. Bend the knee, it says.
Silly, dangerous thoughts creep in, through the passage of fear as they muddle the already fogged workings of your brain.
You can leave. Get away. He’s lying, he’s making things up. He’s looking at you like it’s his birthright to take you right here and now and unravel you with his teeth and nails and—
God, just smite this man.
Help me.
A nervous laugh rings out, strangled, almost. Yours, to be certain.
You can leave. He’s a bad man. Cop or not- you’re not shackled by subservience to the law if its enforcer doesn’t even obey it himself.
You can leave. You won’t get in trouble if you do- not with the others.
A hand crawls up beside you, trembling as it brushes over the head of the gear stick—
The sound of a gun clinks. And you realize two things in tandem before swiveling back to gawk at him: one, he’s now resting his hand on the weapon in his waistband- something you’re not dumb enough to believe is anything but an unspoken threat, and two, you can protect neither yourself nor your reputation if he so chooses to tarnish them.
You’re completely at his mercy.
“Am I being detained?” Is all you can whisper.
He eyes you over, prevaricating. Your hand returns to your lap, stunned into obedience. Confused.
He’s corrupt, yes. That’s been established, that’s been bared. Wherever that corruption has its apogee, however, has not been, and you won’t put that or his patience to the test.
…Would he shoot you, really?
In lieu of an answer, he says, “The stakes are too high for you to stay in there. Come out.”
Clink.
That’s not his gun this time, but rather the door to your car opening to prevent such— and then falling shut with a slow, shaking swing of your hand.
Fine. If he’s some irredeemable jerk on a power trip that’s deemed you as his unfortunate toy for the evening, needing a million indicators of your innocence until he lets you go— you’ll just have to play along and prove it to him. You’re not guilty of anything here- save for filing a report against him later, which you’ll definitely do.
Sure, he’s not actually done anything to you yet, but you’ve cottoned onto the subtle, wordless threats and all the circling he’s done around presenting you with a real, solid accusation.
Maybe there is a guilty person out here, somewhere out of the city’s bounds, with a bounty put on their head. Maybe he’s mistaken you for them.
Maybe he’s right to look at you like you’re a dirty criminal. Maybe he can’t tell you all the details quite yet— and that’s why he’s been so fucking confusing about it.
But right now, it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like he’s playing with his food.
It feels unfair.
“Alright,” you swallow, firm despite the less than two feet serving as a pathetic barrier between you both. You know if he wanted to hurt you you would not be able to stop him- but you won’t give him any reason or excuse to.
You’ll do this sobriety test, pass it with flying colors, and convince him he’s got the wrong person.
“But I want to go home after this,” you declare, fists shaking at your sides.
Whether or not your tough act comes from a place of bravery or is just a manifestation of fear, he rewards it with a little smirk.
As proud as a lion.
“You don’t scare easily, do you? How about this, Sweetie, I’ll do you one better… If you clear this, I’ll even give you my name... That’s what you were looking for all along, right? Or… was there something else you wanted to see?”
There it is again- that cruel crossbreed between a smile and a grimace. Your cheeks burst with warmth at it, and he lets out a low laugh.
Officer Friendly’s eyes darken impossibly- yet a whole new wave of unease curls over you when you watch them give you a once-over, lids fluttering as his chest swells in a hefty sigh.
When he steps forward with an arm out, your knees are too locked to slip away in time as his palm, gloved and broad, snatches your jaw to look up at him.
Heart thudding a fast, overlapping R&B tune in your ribs, all that’s left to do is pen the lyrics.
“S-Stop,” as winded as you are, adrenaline making a pulp of your vocal chords, it’d be a surprise if he even understood the word.
He does. Chest-to-chest, in far too intimate a position, he mumbles back, “Stop what? A certain someone is making this harder than it needs to be.”
You’ve no choice but to return his unnervingly intense, rapt stare as he drinks you in, fingers pinching your chin and digging when your own wrap around his forearm in an attempt made in barely-veiled desperation to push him away.
Tall, handsome, evidently very strong— what is he not?
(Benevolent.)
Officer Friendly sucks in a breath, thin through pearly teeth as he thumbs over your trembling bottom lip.
Something comes from left field, blitzing through and rattling your composure once more.
It’s when he murmurs, “You’re breathtaking,” and for once during this whole awful encounter, you know that he’s devoid of deception.
Amid a cry bubbling up in your throat and your lungs shuddering, you wonder if he’s staring at the glossy remnants of the pumpkin-something chapstick you applied earlier or the tears that begin to descend them.
It’s okay, you tell yourself, struggling to come to terms with the situation. A misunderstanding.
Somehow it’s all just one big misunderstanding.
“I had a less-than-pleasant day, you know. No time to fit you into my schedule,” he scoffs, “They had me running all over Linkon... Still. I do prefer to take the initiative, and it’s not so bad to just… have you like this, either.”
A bunch forms between your brow just in time for your mouth to finally break open, that stubbornness you’d been holding onto departing in a strangled, gusty sigh.
Is he crazy? Insane? Is that why he’s doing this? Not because he’s mistaken you or is some heartless bastard, but because he’s mentally ill and clearly projecting some false reality- or fucked up fantasy- on you?
What is he talking about?
“I dont want any trouble, officer,” you cave nonetheless, appeasing. Better to show your belly, you think, than to continue baring your teeth.
His are sharper.
“Please. I swear, sir, I- whatever I did, I didn’t know, okay…? I’m sorry. I just want go home- I’m, I’m going straight there.”
“Mm, I know,” he nearly groans, his jaw ticking as a flash of something- dark, barely controlled- swims past the scarlet rings of his eye. They’re hardly there anymore as he pores over you, just thin circlets of ruby-red usurped by the dilation of his pupils.
“But Kitten, I want you to stay here for a while. With me.” His broad chest swells as he whispers. It’s… inexplicably tender, although fleeting, and you gape up at him like a victim of whiplash would.
“Could you do that?”
No.
The word, the scream, doesn’t come out. Lodged in your throat and there to stay.
His leather jacket smells of smoke. Faint traces of bergamot clinging to it like citrus carried by summer wind, strangely sweet— you focus on that as the gloved pad of his finger appreciatively roves over you, pressing down onto your wobbling lip.
Not the half-hard bulge poking against your belly.
“You can be a good girl,” he tells rather than inquires. Up until now, you’ve been playing a game of charades with him, and right now he seems very satisfied to designate this moment as the stopping point to it.
That’s not with your full submission, though.
Your phone sits in your pocket- a now-heavy weight in your ripped jeans as he finally releases your jaw in favor of seizing your middle and hefting you over his shoulder in one fell swoop.
Your world flips upside down. Blood gushing to the top of your head and roaring as you’re forced to bob along with his movements.
Your phone. Your phone. The second the opportunity presents itself, when he’s not looking or by some miracle you disarm him, you’ll fish it out and call the—
A short gasp. And then a full-on sob, wretched and indignant, tears out from you.
If it came down to it, if it’s his word pitted against yours- Would they even listen to you?
As if reading your mind, he croons. “You poor thing.”
“Please,” you croak. Inescapable doom is weighing over you, as thick and black as a storm cloud threatening idyllic skies, and you don’t know how to stop it from coming your way. You don’t know if you can.
Frankly, he’s stronger than you. Bigger. They wouldn’t believe you- not over him.
You don’t even know his name and-
“You could let me go,” your own voice interrupts your thoughts, cutting through the crunch of gravel underfoot like a knife, but neither of which sound any more confident or composed than the other. Both are warbling and horrified.
“I could let you go,” he agrees in a light tone, much to your surprise. A spark of hope stirs within: the singular twinkle in an otherwise caliginous sky.
…Though his next words are quick to expunge whatever relief was on its way, your turtleneck failing to wick up the sweat as it glides up your nape— and it’s fear that swoops in next when he sets you down, propping you on the hood of his car. Its talons keep your heart as quarry.
“But where’s the fun in that?”
A large palm takes one thigh, hitches it up against his hip and you feel febrile, weak to his advances, as he closes in and smashes his lips to yours.
“You’ve made me wait for too long,” he growls.
Perhaps that- his evident, albeit inexplicable frustration- is why he operates as if he’s making up for lost time. Quick to rip your jeans down your legs in a blink until your shoes are lying on the road, your sock-clad feet being pushed apart so he can kneel in between and study your panties next.
No wind-burn holds a candle to the way that makes your cheeks alight.
Your heart walloping in your chest for an entirely different reason, he hums, eyes so lidded you can barely see the iris. Giving what you can only presume to be his approval in the crude form of a tongue darting out to wet his lip.
Your jeans, your boots- hell, even your self respect- all lie discarded and tattered in one way or another. Perhaps, then, you should thank him for not piecing apart your underwear next, but it’s hard to do that when he sniggers and pockets it after a moment of intense scrutiny, baring you to the crisp air wholly against your will.
God. For as cruel as his words are, the baritone voice imparting them is so kind to your ears, “Pink? How cute. I might like the reminder of you later, sweetie, so I’ll be taking these off your hands in advance. Although,”
He starts, unease on a primal level ravaging your insides as something beyond arousal darkens his timbre, “I kind of want more than just your panties to remember you by. To be honest.”
He smiles a sardonic, yet oh-so ravenous grin, and a pang of confusion, piercing as deep as a stake stomped into pliant earth, hits as you slowly pick up on the sense that he may not want just a quick, cold fuck out of you after all. No, the glint in draconian, garnet eyes, reminding you too much of a dog with a bone, tells you you might be in over your head here.
As bad as it sounds, you would prefer that between the two, you know: the ruthless taking of your sex in lieu of some future follow-up to this shitshow— a brief, senseless assault rather than a crime with a deeper, more… personal motive.
You realize what he is doing now reads more like obsession and less like whim. Drawing back to his earlier words, the ones you’d been too shaken to properly digest, fills you with dismay all over again.
He was following you. Yes- He was following you, you quietly conclude, too paralyzed with fear to offer anything beyond the occasional mouse-like squeak as his fingers burrow into the plush of your inner, naked thighs. And he was doing it long before you started your commute home.
The officer keeps his gloves on, and that jacket to obscure his credentials.
Bastard.
Bastard bastard bastard, you—
A moan. Obscene and guttural; his as he forces his face between your parted legs.
You’re so disgusted that bugs might as well be crawling on you when that hot tongue first descends upon your pussy, the length of it swallowing your clit whole. Yet you can’t even say it’s a fully unpleasant feeling (a-and it is), because it’s so, so warm as you shiver, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like he has every intention to make you come on the spot. The quick addition of his thumb is a proof of that.
It rubs at that puffy nub while he kitten-licks between your folds, delving into your tight hole. And you’re not aroused, oh no, you still have the single goal to drive home, tearfully write an essay on why this son of a bitch should be fired, and then take a hot shower in hopes to scorch the memory of him away.
No, see- the wetness that begins to pool on the hood of his car beneath you is…
Beyond your control.
You shut your eyes in shame. In an attempt to block him out. To ignore the autumn cold as it strips the skin off your bare thighs, warmed only by the stranger’s cruel touch.
At this point, you don’t even know if you want someone to drive by anymore— the optics aren’t looking good for you. You wonder if any hypothetical witnesses would even be able to spot the signs of distress on your end in time before swerving off.
I mean, far as they can tell- head tossed back, eyes screwed shut as a regrettably attractive man coaxes into your cunt with as much passion as expertise- you’re enjoying this. A badge bunny eager to hop into the lap of a hot, all too willing cop.
There’s a portion of time where your brain shuts off, the shroud of shame and horror thinning out to make way for the growing pleasure that begins to demand full control of each of your senses. In those moments, you don’t speak, jaw held tightly despite the little whines that threaten to jump out.
You don’t even dare to toss a look down at him until he grumbles out something, the vibration of his voice mind-numbing.
“I was right,” he smacks his lips between your thighs, the smooth flesh held open by his hands, “You taste delicious,” He husks.
With a stare that borders on inebriated, he looks thoroughly pleased with his meal. You think of that sobriety test he invoked earlier and the harsh, humorless laugh you make is awfully mingled with a girlish moan.
The officer positively beams at that, doubling down on his efforts with a wolfish smirk.
His chin glistens with your juices and his saliva, the onset of night shedding grey moon over his stupidly handsome, chiseled features, illuminating it.
You’d have been perfectly fine if it didn’t bring your fluids— your traitorous display of arousal— to your attention, but there’s no unseeing it now.
You want to go home. But you’re painfully sure that the image of him, the touch, the unsettling subtext underlying this awful experience, will haunt you there too, regardless of the safety it’s meant to impart.
Rescue is nowhere to be found. As he groans, his thumb disappearing to accommodate the two centermost fingers he uses to dip into your primed cunt, it seems all there’s left to do is drop a fist into his silver hair to help ground yourself and piously ignore the way he melts at your taste.
“That’s it,” he slurs, lewd as anything could be. “You’re being such a good girl… If you keep acting so cute, I might have to make you come again later. What do you think?” He purrs. “Should I spoil you, a little?”
Distantly, you feel another bout of unease rush within; something cutting through the heady smell of his cologne that warns you with acrid clarity to listen to his heated words and act accordingly. To get out while you still can.
Your cheeks flush, and you hear most of nothing.
Well, just the muffled sounds of your little sobs and hiccuping gasps as you clamp a hand over your mouth, begging your own body not to betray you as he undoes you at the literal seem, slick oozing down his wrist. Perhaps the best evidence of this ever happening, of this offense, would be your DNA seeped into the stitching of his jacket; the fruits of your impending climax staining the leather.
Not going to lie, it’s a silly idea at getting justice afterwards, the barest hope of it— but for the later you. The you that he leaves discarded in your vehicle as soon as he’s claimed his pound of flesh and had his fill, the you that’s been returned to planet earth in tarnished form.
Right now, your headspace consists of two things: the man fervently devouring your cunt and how you’ll go about pretending he isn’t while your insides churn deliciously.
Nonetheless, another fear trickles in- falling to the hands of a corrupt official be damned:
You think you might actually come for him.
He demands just that, “Why don’t you let go? You’re- holding back still?” Harsh breaths punctuate his words. And then a wicked, low laugh adds more insult to injury.
“Mm. But I guess that’s not entirely true. Look, you’ve got me all wet. What would you even tell everyone when this is all over, hm?” a vulgar slurp. You make the attempt to shut your legs around his head but he rebuffs it quickly.
Wincing, you bluster back, “I-I’ll tell them what you are. A filthy rapist,” as if to mock you, his tongue flicks at that little bud of nerves, a barrage of suckles and kisses to it sending your rationale straight to the gutter. By a small miracle, you tether yourself back to earth- to the hood of this man’s cruiser- and continue anew, sniveling pathetically.
“I’ll- I’ll tell them you lied and cornered me and used your authority to hurt me-“
A hum cuts you off. Sultry, attentive. Yet he doesn’t sound particularly upset at the accusations- all true, by the way- you catapult at him, nor does he sound very pressed to correct any of them.
Amusement is possibly the most tone-deaf response to your diatribe- second only to endearment- but that is what you watch him give back, eyes glittering with both as he peers up between your legs.
Satisfied, grossly.
“Maybe they’ll believe you, Kitten… If you’re going to go into detail, though,” he whispers thickly, barely audible what with all the other overlapping, lewd noises, “I want you to add how prettily you cried for me. How tight your cute little pussy hugged me back after it drooled all over my car. I want you to tell them,” a fucking feral exhale, “You came so hard for me-“
To drive home the point, his fingers pump inside and kiss your cervix, demolishing whatever restraint you clung to. Stars burst across your vision in tandem with the intensity of what you realize are his vows.
“That you might as well have- ngh- consented to it in the first place.”
The rapid licks at your clit have the edges of your sight whiting out. Your whole world, the spinning canopy of the firs, blotted in greyscale.
Phosphenes swirl chaotically.
“No-“ you discordantly gasp, split seconds before the very atoms around you fizzle and explode, your eyelids fluttering unceremoniously. “Let me go-“ You tug his hair so hard you wonder if the responding grunt he offers is because of the sting of his scalp or the way you toss your head back like a goddess and—
A wretched, animalistic, downright whorish sound fumbles out from your control and you can’t stop it from coming in time, nor the tsunami of pleasure that reaches its apex and utterly crushes you.
“Nonono- let me—!”
The engine rumbles. Roars down the road.
Lucky? That’s… not the first word you’d use to describe the miniature hell you just experienced- but it might be one that fits considering the extra cruelty- mainly being forced to your knees on the pavement to suck his cock, or bent over without dignity like a dog, worser yet, killed- you were spared.
His mercy, you suppose, goes only to a degree, though.
Your wrists, bound by zip ties at your front, are just loose enough to not hurt when left alone. But whenever his eyes skim away from the rearview mirror- otherwise occupied by traffic and the strange ombré made as dark forest bleeds back into city lights- and you try to take action to get them off, it burns. So do your ankles.
Groggily, using up most of your remaining energy, humiliated and stripped just short of full nudity, you glance up from where you’re splayed over the backseat. He was… surprisingly gentle when he put you in, but you’re a bit too scared, and bitter, to count yourself fortunate just because of that.
Not when he’s ruined you in just about every other regard.
His name. You have distinct memory of him making a vow to give that to you- plus permission to go home.
And you know, it’s funny, because you’d almost be able to call him a man of his word despite the initial trap he laid for you, but he’s still yet to deliver the other half of that promise, and the more time drags on the more you think he never will.
In the distance, a train shrieks on its course.
Congested roads bring about the occasional honk and peel of tires. You think you even see your workplace through the window at some point, its glowing, blinking sign under the moon.
It strikes you as mockery to see the big, harmless letters there, if only because you can’t reach out and touch them.
Silver tears dry your cheeks on the way. Sticky, unpleasant.
You wonder if he passes through here often; if it’s part of his commute to the station.
“You said I could go home,” you softly warble.
From the front seat, he makes a noise, relatively unbothered. A pop of scarlet flashing once more in the mirror to bestow you a pitying, yet overwhelmingly satisfied look.
men who insist on blocking your way with their large frames at every opportunity they have. those who accidentally stand in front of you, and whatever object you want to get, ensuring you can't get by without asking them or pushing them aside. and those who conveniently appear when you need to get something that's high up.
men who annoy the shit out of you by insisting that you're just so much smaller than him. who look down at you with a condescending smirk as you angrily explain to him that you're not 'that' small. the ones who grab whatever you have and grin at you while they hold it high above you. forcing you to stretch and jump to get it back.
men who chuckle as you try to push them back and fight them off. who catch your smaller wrists in their large palm and easily pull you against them. men who insist on dropping their full weight over you - crushing you especially when you're in his bed.
men who when you snap back at how big, dumb and annoying he is, tell you that he has something even bigger to show you. who wrestle you down on the couch, bed, or floor, effortlessly, and pin you with one hand.
men who like to push their thick dicks inside your cunt. watching as you thrash about, scream, and beg him to stop, to slow down. men who think you sound sooo cute when he has you crying about how he's 'too big' how he needs to 'stop' or whatever. the ones who love the feel of your fluttering pussy around his hard cock. who enjoy your soft, small hands pushing against his chest. who can't get enough of your gummy walls, squeezing the life out of him.
men who love the size difference so much that it turned him into some kind of sick fuck. but you must be just as sick, since you always cum when he has you under him.
boyfriends; everyone here is over the age of 25 because I said so. just how I wrote this piece of fiction, I wrote them all as over 25
bnha: kirishima, shindo, katsuki, aizwa, ALL FUCKING MIGHT, fatgum.
sylus will tolerate your tantrums if you insist on having them- but he’ll have to address them somehow, too.
▻ cw. smut, noncon elements, implied kidnapping, breeding if you squint, sylus is soft but the consent is still very dubious, 18+ characters, dark/yandere content, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome
▻ notes. no explanation tbh. its around like 6k words i think.. with SEEMINGLY minimum plot but sylus is so whipped for mc. like truly whipped. this dynamic has a very special place in my heart its like canon to me. i wanna make a dragon sylus fic next… maybe another caleb one OR do a siren! raf thing. hope the girlies enjoy this <3
ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 (๑´ `๑)♡
You’re stubborn, tonight.
Between two days spent enduring your mean cold shoulder and the precious vase you threw to the ground, sending it sprawling in a million bits across the floor that Sylus fears will end up lodged in your feet, he’s a little emotionally-charged as well.
Sylus has never been one to bend over, no- his two most reliable henchmen are there for that, and they do it gladly. But there is something about you that makes him stick his neck out time and time again… So, without a word, just a resigning glance thrown your way, he lowers himself to a crouch and sweeps the glass shards into a dustpan.
Love will do that to you, he supposes with the ghost of an obliging grin.
It’s not in his nature to roll belly-up, but he’ll meet you halfway somewhere on his side.
It’s not the first time he bent a knee for you, anyway, and certainly won’t be the last. Still, Sylus holds abundant self-awareness and knows this is more than a bad look for him; fortunately, his weak spots only ever reveal themselves in the privacy of his manor’s walls where you hold it down in his absence.
The twins- Luke and Kieran- they won’t enter your bedroom, not tonight, regardless if there’s a mess or not. Onychinus’s leader has plans for you and no intentions of allowing any interuptions. With a watchful eye trampolining between the fragments underfoot and your rounded shoulders as you curl up to the headboard and tremble, Sylus decides he can handle this little issue fine enough himself.
With a set jaw, he trawls through the glittering pieces until his gaze darts to something particularly shiny.
He lets out a breath.
…So you did throw it out; Sylus wondered what you were fidgeting with behind your back moments before your sudden outburst, but it’s with a pang of startle- and hurt- that he unearths the nitid wedding ring buried beneath layers of geometric shards. Discarded no different than trash would be.
It’s not like he needs physical proof to boast your marriage— even strangers can spare one look at the two of you- the arm forever wrapped around your shoulder or middle, the possessive flair in his eyes paired with a doting, bottomless affection- and make the conclusion that some sort of intimacy runs deep there...
So no, some filed-down gemstone, dazzling as it may be, doesn’t determine your relationship. It certainly makes him feel good, though, to see it wrapped around your finger as a perfect match to his- a tangible token of your bond. It’s a beautiful reminder of you that he absently toys with throughout the evenings to the backdrop of a silent stopwatch, mentally counting down the seconds until he can return home to you.
It’s all the more reason to adorn you in pretty things, anyway. Jewelry and twinkling beads that clang loudly together no matter how quietly your feet fall.
And he likes that, to be fair- not to be superficial, but it’s one of his simpler joys, to pamper you like a princess in every sense of the word.
You don’t need to like it, to want for it; Sylus has always stared at you like you were the epitome of royalty. And royalty only deserves the best, doesn’t it?
He dresses you in fine silks that you slip out of as soon as he’ll allow, trading designer brands you can’t even name out in favor of one of his sweaters or shirts. Stood behind you, he’ll insist on threading dainty, flax chains around your neck, smiling softly in the reflection of the full-body mirror.
You never meet him in the eye, then, too put off by the delight that practically oozes off him as he spoils you rotten to look at him right.
Sometime later that night, his hand- large but always careful- will resume that chain’s place around your neck, and thumb over your pulse affectionately.
You never did find much use, or joy, in any of his glitzy expenditures.
If- If you’re being perfectly honest you’d much rather he buy you a ticket home. Maybe that’s the one wish of yours he’ll never bring life to, much less humor in the first place.
But you’re nothing if not persistent. Oh, sweetie, Sylus has been made abundantly aware of that fact. He takes it like water off his back, though: just another little quirk of yours to catalogue to memory and dote over.
His stubborn, precious girl.
Tonight, frustration reaches its zenith in you and you snap. Grow teeth and snarl in his face.
You don’t want to be angry— ugly— God knows you loathe what’s becoming of you, but your captor doesn’t leave many other options on the table.
You shriek when he tries to coax you towards the plush fur draped over the bed and he watches with a resigned sort of sorrow as you throw things off the coffee table and shout.
You scream your throat hoarse. You taste copper on your tongue as if you’ve been running. Maybe, the truth isn’t all that far off. A man like Sylus is something to run from; all sentient beings with a sense of self preservation, no matter how small, would take off on foot immediately.
There’s not many places you can run to, though. Not when there’s constant surveillance on you- iron-wrought gates and a damned bird that soars watchfully overhead if you so much as step into the courtyard.
Your tantrum lasts all of three minutes before you retreat to the nearest corner- Sylus’s lavish bed- and quietly lick your proverbial wounds.
He’s never hit you before, no, not physically, but he’s the kind of man to leave everything within his radius reeling sooner or later. Doesn’t matter where his loyalties lie. It will happen.
And, you know, he’ll treat you like you’re some exception to that rule- to his streak of cruelty and the chaos that he lets unravel around him- but you’re not. You’re really not and you just desperately wish he could see that—
“Talk to me, sweetie,” a low tone draws you from your reverie.
You don’t let your eyelids flutter open right away; you’re re-experiencing a vivid memory in your head- a sunny afternoon in Linkon with a warm hand woven in yours by the shore- and don’t want it to slip away just yet. It’s a comforting piece of your past you want to hold onto.
As pathetic as that may be, despite Sylus having all but birched your hope for rescue to a bloody pulp, you still look back on better days with bittersweet longing and pray someone will come and save you. If not them- your old buddies in the Hunters Association and your closer friends that Sylus has voiced a particular enmity to- then yourself. You want more than anything to save yourself, but it’s not like he gives much opportunity for that.
This is your home, now. It always was. He’s dogged in his attempts to prove it to you, purring in your ear while he fucks you slow and deep that he’ll take as long as it needs to convince you of that simple fact. It’s indisputable: you’re his.
You’ll… come around to it eventually, Sweetie.
Biting your tongue, you hold off on responding to him.
There was nothing to say, really- you’d already just screamed your throat raw and still it wasn’t enough to make him budge or even at least reconsider this awful arrangement he’d launched you into a number of months ago.
If you open your mouth, you tell yourself in a mix of childish bravery and cooling ire, sloped against the headboard defiantly, it’ll be to bite him. Certainly not talk to him. Especially not in any civil manner. You think he’s lost that right ages ago- the priviledge of your softness.
You hear him heave a faint sigh, but for the moment, he leaves it at that. “Okay, then,” he murmurs with a tinge of understanding that you hate, “You cool off, sweetie. Take slow, deep breaths. Lie down if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
You remain sat upright. One half of it is because you don’t quite feel safe going prone right now with adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, and the other half is for the sole purpose of spiting him.
Sometimes it feels like you can’t. Spite him, you mean. His wounded eyes, which resemble a kicked puppy’s to a shocking degree, are as rare as they are effective. You really shouldn’t harbor any capacity of guilt for the man, but you’re human. Glaringly human. And his forlorn little frowns after you’ve winced under his harmless pets or refuse to face him after he’s fucked you within an inch of your life and wants to curl up to you like some overgrown cat- they tug on a vulnerable part of you.
It’s- It’s not Stockholm Syndrome at all, or even the latent stirrings of it. It’s just— It’s just a basic human trait to feel, and…
You suppose that might be the one veritable thing he hasn’t quite ripped from you. Maybe more so for his benefit than yours.
After Sylus is done sweeping up your mess, he approaches the bed and caresses the blade of your shoulder. The movement is just barely hesitant, like he doesn’t want to send you flying five feet in the air with some violent flinch response. It’s happened before on more than one occasion.
You don’t know whether to count his caution as endearing, oddly sweet, or fucking maddening. Perhaps it’s a fair combination of all of that as well as sickening.
Your consolation that came in the form of a now distant memory peters out into heavy, intermittent throbs of your chest. Sadness thumping a gentle song. The smell of sea salt spraying up from the ocean fully wafts away as he brings a hand up to your forehead, gentle as ever, and guides you to turn to face him.
His own scent- a base amber with notes of vanilla underneath, in two words: warm and rich- replaces that. You draw it in in small, shallow breaths and feel it tingle behind the bridge of your nose.
Sometimes it comes like a precursor to his hands- something that’ll have you bracing for impact in fetal position. Other times, when he’e got your thighs pinned either side of your head and his cock delving in and out of your pussy, hitting so deep in your belly you think nothing will sate your appetite for days, it’s a dizzying smell.
Consuming and concentrated, rubbing off on you like a bad influence as he grabs and gropes and nips.
You hate to admit it (and don’t know how it got to this point) but on occasion, Sylus’s scent is even comforting.
You would never tell him that. In fear of it getting to his head, if nothing else.
His warmth tickles the shell of your ear, his lips peppering a chaste kiss to your shoulder as he settles in beside you. Your frenzied heart, just as it began to slow, begins to thump faster, but you remain otherwise composed. When he moves a hand to lift the blanket over you, fuzzy and stupid-expensive, you make a grunting sound and shove his wrist away.
Stubborn, Sylus thinks, and bold.
But his. His and perfect.
Behind you, his chest rumbles. He lets out a laugh, gentle and light, but you wonder if it’s the remnants of exasperation that’s interwoven in it. He nestles up at your back and curls a possessive hand around your middle, his other brushing some hair off your shoulder.
You’re not quite dumb enough to interfere with it this time. Or, for that matter, the glittering ring he puts on your finger- back to its rightful spot- and reverently slips down to the slim base of your knuckle.
“You’re not cold, kitten?” He mumbles at your ear, taking you in through slow, decadent breaths,”I guess you did work yourself up by a few degrees, huh?” The proximity used to raise the little hairs on the back of your neck, but he has dulled your fight-or-flight response considerably over the past handful of months.
Kudos to him, for that.
He’s not entirely wrong, though. Your cheeks still feel toasty with anger, your fingers twitching and unfurling by your lap as if to test your own mood.
“Are you…” he starts, contemplative, “still frustrated?”
…Are you still frustrated? You don’t know. Maybe just sad.
Everything you want you can’t have. Everything you want- your veritable livelihood- he’s plucked you out of no different than a mother would her errant puppy, by the scruff. With possessive teeth that latch on painlessly and say mine.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, before quickly remedying the part of you that grows anxious at admitting your own vulnerabilities to him- “yes. I’m upset.”
Sylus gives a little sigh.
Long fingers skim the column of your arm. He leaves behind small goosebumps and a warmth that somehow feels cold over your human flesh; a brush that tingles like a static shock.
“Don’t be,” he murmurs, voice becoming oddly heavy. Breathy, rugged. And you wryly suppose the solution he offered is just so helpful, isn’t it?
The palm laced around your middle gradually slips downward, his hooked nose pressing into your jugular like he can smell the hot blood beneath and it’s appetizing, before a feeling of dread overtakes you.
Dread, and another feeling you don’t want to name— a thrill of excitement ghosting down your spine.
When he cups the seat of your panties, you shiver and revolt as if you’ve been burned.
“N-No—“
He’s ready for that, your… hesitance. His other arm, the one that doesn’t end nestled between your bare thighs, keeps you lassoed to him, his breath heavy at your collar. Growing more labored by the second.
He hushes you, using his cheek to stroke against your hair since his hands are otherwise occupied. You don’t give any more fight other than that- the violent flinch- but you remain stiff as a board as he notes your trembling with a genuine, deep frown. Furrowed, sad brows and all as if he actually has the fucking capacity to feel sorry for something—
“It’s okay, kitten,” he breathes out, “Hush.” Four fingers deliver a series of slow, tantalizing rubs to your pussy, marking the beginning of his painless assault as his thumb toys with the waistband of your panties, and you shudder against your will.
You scramble to hold onto his thick forearm, straightening against him as he leisurely works you into a writhing, fiery mess. Your veins warm, but not out of anger- not anymore, at least. Traitorous flames sprout in the pit of your belly, fanning heat across your face— hot-blooded and filled with want over just a few of his touches.
Oh, you hate him.
“Just relax, loosen up. I’ll make you come,” he murmurs against your neck, laving the fleshy space there with amorous kisses.
Man with a mission. Man with a promise. If you know him, then you’ll know he keeps them.
He suckles gently at the sensitive skin before breaking off with a soft pop, a hot tongue lolling out to chase away the redness, rendering you speechless. Speechless and on the brink of forgetting just why exactly you loathe him so much— but a vestige of that repulsion remains, melancholic and weak, and you try one last time to push him away, throwing an ineffective elbow.
He glues his front to your back completely, locking your joints in place, and slips his fingers down your panties. His knuckles peek out from the lacy hem.
Sylus lets out a little groan when you call his name, shivering behind you.
He doesn’t care if you say it like it’s a perjorative or an invocation of some reprehensible, filthy spirit— if he had it his way, it’d sound coated in honey, but he’s learned to take what he can get with you. It still makes his cock throb beneath the white folds of his robe. In any case, it’ll sound real sweet soon enough, ringing out from your lips in pretty, gasping moans as you gouge your nails into his back.
Grudge him all you want, honey. He’ll make you shake and scream, tonight. Squash all the enmity you doggedly hold for him within the span of an hour with worshipful hands and concentrated, ardent thrusts that leave you with little choice but to take it and moan.
When your struggling stops altogether, Sylus takes ahold of your little hand and appreciatively thumbs over your ring finger. “What sort of husband would I be if I left you all hot and bothered, hm? A poor one,” he answers for you.
Gently, he maneuvers you onto your back and insinuates himself between your legs. His eyes are aflame. The look in them steals the last of your shivering breath, your heart doing a perfect backflip in your chest.
Ruby eyes flutter with passion, his pupils so big you can hardly spot the red glint as they dilate unevenly, his lashes dewy. He sucks in oxygen with short, winded intakes, his silvery hair- still slightly damp from his shower- falling over his brow. And to be fair that’s bunched together, too; all the little muscles in his face tight and strained as he lets out a clipped sigh.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers on his perusal. His gaze flits all over the place when he hoists shiny silk up your breast (tonight, a royal-blue negligee) and unwraps a stringy pair of panties from your legs.
“You’ll be good for me tonight, won’t you? Or is there any more… frustration you need to let out?”
The invisible apple of your throat bobs. You retain your silence.
He dryly comments, “I guess I owe you that.”
Sylus unties his robe, eyes glossy and intense.
He does so with an affected patience, knuckles moving ridiculously slow as he feigns autonomy over his own rampant emotions. You eye him with a misty desire as he does so, your hips giving an involuntary shimmy as you prepare for what’s to come.
Sylus grasps for the very last of his self-control like a beggar would the lavish tailcoats of passersby, but it’s all for naught. His fingers are shaking when he finally flips open his robe and shucks it from his broad shoulders. Oozing less confidence and more need than anything, the tips of his ears flushed a bright red that you don’t get to see often and nobody else gets to see at all.
He stoops over, then, laying his naked chest flat to your breasts.
“This,” he says, pinning your hand- the one with a flashy wedding band- onto the silky duvet and intwining your fingers with his. “This belongs, with you. So make a mess. Throw your fits and say those cruel things to try to get back at me, sweetie… But don’t ever take this off your ring finger, do you understand?”
He breaks off from your hickey-dotted neck to get a close look at you, pressing his forehead to yours. And right then you’re almost scared to look at him, an instinct existing deep in your gut saying you’ve just been taken into the maw of a big bad wolf— but his nose brushes with yours and he feels… human. Fleshy, warm. Shockingly vulnerable in the moment.
His hands that hold yours greedily are callous and big, sure- and you’ve seen firsthand the destruction they can raise- but they’re not clawed and malicious as they touch you. No, actually, they tremble with unbridled excitement at the opportunity to make you feel good.
And— And you hate him, y-you do.
Sylus cradles you close and nurses a few indulgent kisses from your lips, eating up every precious gasp you can’t stop from slipping in time.
Reluctantly, you return them all with budding desire.
“Do you understand?” He manages to heave out after a breathless moment. There’s no threat masquerading behind his candied words (no, he’s never been one to hold things over your head, surprisingly) but his timber is firm and meaningful. You have the implicit understanding that you must say yes- or, that’s your best option for the moment.
You look up at him and his eyes are wide, unblinking, not exactly the heavy-lidded picture you were expecting and had just witnessed mere moments prior.
And it’s a million things all in one— reverent and intense, enigmatic in its roots, you think, because you never could wrap your head around just what he saw in you and why, but he’s completely besotted. It brightly reflects in his eyes like chopped moonlight over calm waters- and you never once denied that. If you’re being honest, he made denying that- his very real, and unabashed feelings for you- an impossible task.
“Yes,” you mumble. “I understand.”
He seems contented, at that. Sighing and tempered.
He pants and nudges his brow to yours, one hand unloosening from its knot with yours to make a slow descent. Torturous and controlled like he wants you to shrivel up and die from the grudging need for his touch- for him to pivot deep up inside you and erase all conscious thought from your brain.
Sylus captures your lips in another kiss, more heated this time, raunchy and a bit toothy, as he takes his cock and, without any anticapitory strokes or anything, lines it up with your hole.
“M’ sorry, sweetie. I just don’t think I can stay away tonight. You…” His skull throbs with blunt, scalding want. “You’re worth all your trouble, you know that?”
A ripcurrent of fondness, unbidden but strong, gusts through your chest.
There’s just nothing in this world you can do to ward him off you, is there? No way to spook him?
The epiphany, dulled by a lust broiling between your thighs, is as comforting as it is horrifying. You don’t- You don’t know anything more. You just can’t be sure of what Sylus is to you, how he makes you feel— all his disservices done to you a cruel piece of your reality or not.
Tonight, you’ll blame it all on him.
He nudges apart your folds (growingly wet: an unfortunate discovery of yours that makes his chest puff with pride) with the fat head and begins his entrance. It’s grand but gentle; painstaking, almost, as his pelvis draws closer to yours but only at a snail’s rate.
A lewd squelch sounds out. You suppose you’re not entirely beyond the luxury of shame quite yet, because you toss your head to the side and refuse to meet his piercing gaze, embarrassed.
You… suppose you’re also a bit wetter than you’d thought, or wanted, for that matter.
You wince as he feeds inch after inch into you. Sylus is twitching; maybe you’re just hypersensitive or your fresh bout of anger has you experiencing everything in overabundance, but you can feel his long member writhe inside your gooey walls— every ridge and curve as you struggle to make room. On instinct, you clamp down on him and he hisses like he’s been slapped.
“R-Relax, kitten... Let me in. I’ll be gentle with you, I promise. Are… you scared?” He pants.
You swallow hard. Sylus tracks the movement with alarming precision, cardinal eyes watching your throat bob. Sweat beads there. He licks it up without thought, with half the brain to follow up his question with, “Don’t be. I would never hurt you,” he whispers. And to be perfectly honest, you believe him. In his own weird, roundabout way, he wouldn’t hurt you. Not in any physical regard, at least.
(Although, perhaps bullying his thick cock between your plushy, tooth-marked thighs is the exception to that statement.)
“Y-You’re mad at me,” you caterwaul, but it’s really a question in its own, uncertainty blipping past your wet eyes. “You’ll punish me.”
Something like hurt reshapes the hard lines of arousal in his face, tanned skin unfurling with brief sorrow. He looks sweet and puppyish- all momentary, of course, all his slips of vulnerability compiled into these isolated, intimate moments with you.
He frowns, “I won’t punish you, sweetie.”
“I broke the vase. Threw it, and- and my ring.” You reason in a thin voice, your fingers curling thoughtlessly. He takes them in his own. Kisses all the tips of them.
“So?” He dismisses with a breath, “I can buy a million more, honey. You forget who I am. As for your ring,” he pauses, gaze rapidly flipping across the bridge of your nose, as if trying to discern whether or not you’ll do it again somewhere down the line. Of course, it’s an impossible task to tell the future. Sylus wishes that wasn’t the case, though.
“…You wouldn’t do that again, would you? Throw it away, take it off. You’d cherish it, just as I do my own…” he alludes to the own band on his finger, resplendant and with a price tag you’d prefer not to count the zeroes on.
It glitters in the mellow lamp light when you briefly glance to it.
“I want you to look at it,” he decides after a beat, “and think of me. I want it to… make you happy.”
With that, you blink and he’s withdrawing, straightening his back to loom over you again- resuming that position of dominance without issue. He paints the most traditional idea of authority. Tall and muscled, with stoic eyes that glow with the silent dare to challenge him and hands that can make putty of the most rebellious spirit. He molds you like clay on a potter’s wheel. You reel underneath the unexpectedly soft ministrations of his worn palms.
Funnily enough, there was a time where you were convinced he wanted nothing more than to erase your person and rewrite your identity, but now you’re not so sure… It seems if anything, the only thing he wants to strip you of is your fear. Most notably, of him. He’s so violent but… painless. Sylus has always confused you, in that way.
With men like him, you’ve quietly wondered, maybe it’s just better to close your eyes and let your breathing slow.
“You’re doing so good,” he rewards with his words, “Relax your hips… yes, just like that. Maybe I’ve been away too much, mm? I’m sure the twins have been… more than talkative with you. Bothersome. Fuck,” he shudders.
“…You’re all pent up,” he determines out loud. “But don’t worry. I’ll make it better. I’m only asking that you’ll,” you think he gasps faintly, bringing a hand to touch over your belly, “make some room for me here. Could you do that for me, kitten?”
Without fully understanding the possible implications of his words, caught between the sweltering heat of his body and a confusing, inner blend of desire and fading resistance, you give a nod.
Sylus digs a fang in his bottom lip and forces himself to look away. His too-intense eyes settle on the syrupy juncture of your bodies, where he disappears into you and you, for once, eagerly invite him in.
“Sweet kitten.” His praise is cloying. Genuine, sappy. It sticks like frosting to the roof of your mouth— a feeling you can’t quite squirm away from because it’s lodged inside you. He’s smitten, and you think you hate him. You must. You were only screaming your head off about it moments prior and throwing precious, ornate vases to the floor, confessing your repulsion to the whole entire world (more accurately, Luke and Kieran, overhearing it from somewhere down the hall and the damned bird currently perched in his cage).
His words of encouragement, bitten and breathy, keep you from bucking your hips up and away, but only barely.
Your husband keeps you anchored beneath him with a fervid, loving stare and fingers that constantly remind themselves not to dig too deep into the fat of your hip lest they leave bruises. Save for the petal-like hickeys spiraling the pillar of your neck and your thighs- the ones that made you yelp with pleasure as he left them- Sylus doesn’t want to leave anything behind that exists for the sole purpose of hurting.
Right now, everything does. Your pussy lips mouthing around him and desperately trying to receive him, the prominent vein at the base of his cock throbbing under the tight fit.
It doesn’t matter how many times he’s nailed you against the headboard or taken you folded over the marble kitchen counters as the twins hurriedly scuttled out— you’ll never quite get used to the sheer length of him. All thick and pulsating, the upper half of it flushed and curved under its own weight.
Terrifying, the first time you saw it and he pried apart your legs all attentively and soft, tracking each and every expression that passed your face despite the drugs in you making every tiny muscle go almost entirely lax.
And it was terrifying the second and third time, too.
…It’s terrifying even now, but that sense of startle is buried deep down under gritty layers of hopelessness and bitterness and a disloyal arousal- your core throbbing with want as it nudges aside all rational thinking. It says to let him in. Let him inside your panties and heart but you still dream of homeward during every sleepless night, familiar, Linkon paths surrounded in hazy serenity. You dream of the sun, too, the buttery light that waits just outside of the N109 Zone and its boundless darkness—
Outside of him. Your stalker, your captor. With the recent addition of a big sparkling gem on your finger- your apparent husband.
Sylus is neat, down there; fine white hairs tickle above your clit as he bottoms out with a final groan- seconds before he stoops back over you and recoils his hips.
He fucks you good and slow. Expert thrusts that he pairs with tentative, darting looks from your pussy to your eyes to note every zipping emotion.
He coaxes honeyed moans out from you with relative ease. Admittedly, it feels heavenly where his body meets and parts with yours— your head made so dull, devoid of thought, your limbs weighed like bags of sand as he ruts into you like a man possessed.
He makes a pleasured sound, pulled deep from the barrel of his chest. “I love you.” You believe him. He definitely looks the part; in love. He can hardly speak. “Kitten. Tell me how it feels, tell me how you want it,”
“Good,” you cry breathlessly. “Feels good.” He watches you clamp your eyes shut and groans with dissatisfaction, taking your jaw in his whole hand and pressing his nose to yours. If he has one wish right now, it’s that you’ll understand in indisputable clarity that you make up the very atoms of his world, that in a wasteland of slate grey and white— you hold color. Hold it like a fully saturated sponge. With every piston of his hips, he drinks his fill from you.
Bitterly, you think with withering rationale, he drains.
“Then open your eyes. Look at me,” he demands. So close he’s near suffocating- every fibre of your being consumed by five letters and an adoration so heady it feels treacly. It emits from him like radiation, poisonous and insidious.
Sylus puffs out humid, minty breaths, and you take them in, recycling it between each other. Your lungs feel like a hearth. He’s gasping like he’s just concluded a several mile long run, perspiring at his temple.
Belatedly, you flutter open your eyes.
He’s handsome. He’s wolfishly handsome and the way he looks at you is both precious and earth-shattering all at once, crushing you under the sheer weight of it like a flimsy object placed under a hydraulic press: you stood no chance. Not against someone like him.
Obedient, you stare at him and whimper, half-tempted to cup his V-shaped jaw and indulge in the feeling.
Sylus moans and rewards you with a hot tongue pressed flatly to your neck. You slam your head as deep as it can go in the duvet. Your eyes fall back into your skull and you hold him tight- tighter than tight- squeezing his thick forearms like they’re fruit to juice. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Your back makes a crescent-moon. He relishes in the way you cling onto him for dear life, branding him with the tips of your fingers as he imparts mind-numbing pleasure. Euphoria thrums in your veins. It’s hard to breathe, your cheeks bloating before you dazedly remind yourself to breathe.
Your inner voice resembles Sylus’s to an unexpected degree.
“Breathe,” he really says, rasping. “Breathe, kitten.”
Your slick cunt winks around him with satisfaction, a gusty breath pouring down your throat.
Pointed teeth tickle your jugular. For a split second, you experience the very real, but perhaps needless fear that he’ll sink down and tear tendon from bone. That he’ll pull away with red spittle and a predatory smile and say, I’ve won. You’ve given in, sweetie.
It’s all for naught, however; instead, he washes you with sloppy, suckling kisses and you mewl unabashed for each and every one.
Molten pleasure sends a violent jolt through you, his saliva marking you and right then you feel no different than a bone to a dog.
Sylus wonders vaguely if you’ll ever come to the realization that while yes, he is a dog, you are his master— you give him name and purpose and occasional tugs on his leash that tell him where to go and what to do. He’ll trail you endlessly. Follow you to hell even if he smells the char clear ahead.
And you just don’t get that, do you? It’s as humorous as it is exasperating.
“Look me in the eyes, sweetie. Tell me how you feel. I want to know how- far you think I reach.” He shudders.
You whimper, “Far. S-So far, Sylus.”
A visible shiver racks his broad shoulders at the sound. His palm, callous and large, cups your chin tenderly and his damp lips shift against yours with every dull clap of his pelvis to yours. His free hand leaves its perch at your waist in favor of your breast, hovering over the valley of them with splayed fingers.
“And what about here?” He croaks, “Am I reaching this spot here?”
Your neck is straining as you plow it deeper into his fancy, expensive mattress. There’s a small uncertainty in you that raises the silent question of whether or not you’re trying to escape the man looming over you or you’re just overstimulated from his handling. Either way, it goes unanswered, put on the back burner to make room for a rattling pleasure.
Comprehension slips away. It’s taking you several seconds to grasp onto what Sylus is asking of you.
You take ahold of a pillow beside you and grab it so hard you think feathers might erupt from your fingertips. You’re getting close, you can feel it; a foamy wave in the distance growing taller and taller as it nears the shore. He’s not fairing any better, the threads of his composure splitting like dead ends.
Your heart, you finally realize in a blink. Is he reaching your heart? And it’s almost delicate, the response your chest has to it, your lungs drawing in a short breath and keeping it there for a long moment as if you need the extra time to process that morsel of information. That unexpected smidgen of fondness that bowls through you and scrunches your brow as you flit between his eyes. Cherry red and agog, wholly invested in your answer.
Before you can provide a real one— the wave crashes.
Bigger than you’d imagined, more powerful. Tsunami-like in nature: it casts its shadow over you in its entirety and steals the breath from your lungs as it curls and flattens. It rolls over you and sprawls to the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, your whole body convulsing as you’re swept up in its waters.
“Y-Yes,” you gasp without consciousness, fucked into perfect dumbness. “I love you, Sylus- I love you I love you I love you—“
Sylus’s hips stutter and fail.
“Fuck, sweetie!” He growls, “Do you mean it, do you—?” He delivers one last onerous ram into your twitching hole before letting out a roar and stilling completely. Rope after rope of hot cum glutting into you, your spasming walls feeling volcanic as he unloads his fat balls inside them.
You tremble and lose your tether to reality, for one moment. Cut off completely and barred from it.
Eventually, he lets out a deep, sated sigh and collapses over you. Drawing your boneless body to his front, tucking you safely under his muscled wing.
You numbly slant yourself against him and press your cheek to the damp, hard planes of his chest. His heart is hammering wildly beneath your ear and you don’t know whether to feel flattered, startled, or a fair mix of both. Perhaps you’re beyond the point of caring- although, sometimes it’s hard to get over the knowledge that Sylus indeed has a functioning heart capable of sorrow and anger and joy.
It’s… confusing, to say the least.
A long while passes afterward.
In the dewy afterglow, he plants a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and uses his center fingers to move away the hair pasted to your forehead. You can tell he’s holding back on something, just don’t know quite what.
Then, he murmurs, with a vulnerability that will never not look stupefying on him— cocksure, devilishly-handsome face warping into the gentle portrait of doubt—
“Did you?” He blinks, slow as he drifts along your sleepy face and watches your eyes hazily lift to meet his. “Mean what you said? Just now, when you came... Did you mean it, kitten?” He whispers softly.
Your mouth opens and wavers.
A plethora of contradictory feelings make quick work of the last of your common sense: loathing, trading itself out for hesitant affection; deepseated fear ducking out the way for the inexplicable want to unfurl your tight limbs against him and allow yourself just to be held... By him, of all people.
Your captor, who utterly uprooted you from your home and cut off every string connecting you to the people you considered most dear. Your tormentor and kidnapper and husband, whether you liked it or not, the relation only recently scrawled in paper in sloping, flowery letters. You signed yourself to him. (Albeit, you had very little say in the whole ordeal.)
You shut your eyes, hard. Your jaw follows.
You don’t give him an answer. Maybe you don’t truly know it anymore, not for certain. What this man has done to you is all too confusing and he’s made you all too tired, tonight. Nothing can keep its foothold for long in your fogged brain.
With a rapid thump of his heart, devastation falling headlong into the pit of his belly, Sylus thinks your silence, that in itself, is your answer.
…Nonetheless. He’s nothing if not persistent. And you’re warming up to him, he can tell— those fuzzy, latent feelings part of your willing acknowledgement or not.
So he arms you impossibly closer and nuzzles his hooked nose into your hair.
You think it’s a wry little smile that prods your temple. “You’re still playing the long game, hm, kitten? …It’s alright,” he breathes. You note the microscopic hitch in his otherwise even words with an unwanted pang of guilt.
a/n: obsessed with that one hq movie where kenma wanted to trap hinata and put him in a cage/ clip his wings. so i had to put it down- these men (time skipped versions) strike me as the type.
men who are unhinged when it comes to you. who think you're so beautiful that he has to destroy you. he has to keep you locked up , trapped so no one can ever find you. he needs you to be his, and only his.
men who try to contain their urges but their true nature slips up every now and then.
men who bite your lips on purpose, just to draw a bit of blood. who act so innocent when you push them away. a grin on their face as the blood stains inbetween their perfect teeth. acting as though he didn't draw that blood himself.
men who pretend to not know their strength. the ones who grip you a bit too hard. who kiss a bit too roughly. who fuck a bit too violently. who presses his large hands down on the nape of your neck, forcing you to bite the pillow as he pushes his rock hard dick into you. who savours the way you cry out. how you try to pull away from his violence.
men who grab your hips, pulling you against him. men who ask, "where the hell are you going angel?" as if he were the devil himself and finally trapped God's favourite.
men who coo at you with pure evil hidden behind that voice so sweet. he promises that he would never hurt you - yet, when you look up at him with such love he just wants to hurt you all over again.
your sweet boyfriend lovesss getting you drugged up / drunk just so he could take advantage of your pretty little body. groping you while easily brushing your defense off. then whispering in your ear, "it's good that you're drugged up, you really would wanna forget all the sick things im about to do to you."
• geto suguru • hanma shuji • arthur • jin grandet • KEITH HOWELL • dazai osamu • atsumu miya • meian • denji • moran • chrollo • nagi • reo mikage • oliver aiku • sherlock holmes • leviathan • solomon • miyuki kazuya • your fave •
title: dirty husband takes advantage of his pretty wife and gets away with it.
a/n: pick your bf special ! so you can imagine this with kiaan (oc) or kuroo (hq) or lucifer (obeyme) or rei furuya (dcmk) or chevalier (ikepri) or saint germain (ikevamp) or nobunaga (ikesen) or hiori / REO tabito/ ISAGI (bllk), taiju (tokyo rev).
He's such a good husband.
He takes such good care of you, it's almost like you both were the blueprint of what newlyweds should be. He holds your hand, pays for everything and he even acts like a gentleman everytime you leave the house.
Oh but back at home .... well it's a different story back at home.
He buys you cute dresses and forces you to wear them. The really short ones where if you bend over he gets a full view of your panties, yeah those. Oh and he makes you wear this cute little collar that has a cute pendant on it. And on the pendant he engraved 'property of xx'
Yup, that meant the day you said "I do" you now belonged to him and only him.
He loves you though, well more like he loves having fun with you. He likes to sneak in when you're taking a shower and push you against the wall.
He likes the look on your face when you tell him to stop because you're trying to get clean. It just makes him want to do dirty things to you. He likes to spray you with the water and make you squeal, then fuck your cute cunt until you cum all over the shower floor. He loves how you look when he presses you up against the translucent glass door of the shower. The way your tits smush against the cold surface as he fucks you from behind.
He likes to come up from behind when you're washing dishes or making dinner and grope your body. His large hands grabbing your tits, and moving down to you tummy and then accidentally slipping into your panties. He likes when you groan and push him away, telling him you need to finish cooking. But he's hungry now, he can't wait until you're done. So he pushed you up on the counter and pulls down your underwear. Burying his face agaisnt your pussy as he eats you out until you cream. He has you begging him to stop but he doesn't want to. Afterall you're his wife. And he has to show you how much he loves you.
Oh but his favourite thing is to sneak in the room when you're ready asleep. He knows its pervy and borderline creepy. But he can't help it. Especially not when you wear those cute little nightgowns that bunch up by your waist when you shift on the bed. He loves coming in and just touching you a little. He flips up the nightgown and runs his fingers against your slit. Your body reacts so well to him. He licks his lips and pulls your undies down before fucking you. He tries to be gentle at first because he knows you're tired. Afterall being a housewife is hardworking but ... but sometimes he cant help it. He goes berserk and fucks you until you're crying. Your tears soak the pillow case as he thrusts into your cunt.
He makes it worse because he keeps telling you how much he loves you. How much he would give up for you. How much people he would kill for you. Because at the end of the day, he already accomplished his goals in life and now he just wants to bed his pretty wife until she screams.
romance and shit @candybabysworld - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
