Your little brother just doesn't know any better. Or does he?
cw: pseudo!incest but actually real bone i think now, didi caleb/jiejie mc, dub!con/non!con, very control behaviour, didi does the worst thing he could ever do... hook up with another woman!, violence, excessive amounts of hickies, leb is a pain slut, cumming untouched, ruined orgasm, a second of bj.
The thought of Xavier having touched you sends Caleb off the deep end. He's not satisfied with your denials or even you having let him put his cock inside you. No, he had tried to demand that you quit your job, and when you, of course, adamantly refused, he demanded you get a new partner—a woman this time, he insisted.
“You think I can just up and change my mission partner? That’s not how it works, Caleb.” You tell incredulously, his childish way of thinking driving you crazy. Shouldn't he have grown out of it by now? He's in college for god's sake. But then again, there are a lot of things he hasn’t grown out of. “And even if it did, why would I do that? Xavier is the best hunter in Linkon, maybe even in the entire world, I'd be—”
“Yeah, he’s so fucking great isn’t he?” He cuts you off bitterly, “Is that why you want to fuck him?”
“I don't!” You bristle, “I proved it, didn't I?”
“All you proved is that he didn’t fuck you yet.” He snarls, "And I don’t plan to give him the opportunity.”
You feel like a child being scolded. It's absurd. You're the older sibling here and he's acting out of line. No sister should ever have to answer to the jealous accusations of her own little brother, and yet here you are.
“Xavier has saved my life many times, Caleb.” You remind him, hoping this fact would make him come to his senses. After all, he would go insane if he lost his jiejie because of his stupid jealousy, wouldn’t he? “I am not going to change my partner and put my life at risk because of your jealous delusions.”
But when has Caleb listened to reason?
“Then quit.”
“Oh my god.”
The argument drags on for hours, going around in circles with heated accusations and loaded threats flying from both of you towards the other. You threaten to cut him off sex entirely. He threatens to drop out of the DAA and stay by your side 24/7. In the end, after your voice has gone hoarse from shouting and you'd nearly pulled all your hair out in frustration, you and Caleb finally reach a compromise.
An insane, ridiculous, absurd compromise, but a compromise nonetheless.
You will get to keep your job and stay partners with Xavier but with the caveat that you will wear a tracking device on you at all time, hidden inside the necklace you had gifted Caleb the day he went away to Skyhaven. The irony is not lost on you—the same necklace intended to celebrate the day he was supposed to fly free, now binds him to your every move.
But it's not just that. The necklace will give him your location but not what you're doing or who you're with. So in order to soothe his paranoia, you're to keep him updated about all your missions. You're to answer his texts and calls immediately, and when asked to provide proof of what you’re doing in the form of photos or videos. And to make sure that despite all of this you haven't managed to sneak off and fuck your partner, you're to allow him to inspect your pussy every time he visits.
It's utterly insane. Every part of this arrangement makes your skin crawl, but it’s the only compromise that Caleb has accepted that would keep him in Skyhaven to continue his studies, and allow you to hold onto your job at the Hunter’s Association.
In return, Caleb agrees to keep trying to date. He's to provide proof of doing so—photos from dates, screenshots of conversations, any and all evidence that he’s actually giving it an honest shot this time. And while he’s with them, he's not to call or beg you for help.
You also refuse to let him put his cock inside you again, even if it's just the tip. He almost lost it last time and you don't trust him to control himself any better next time, no matter how much he begs and pleads and insists he was just ‘too jealous and it will be different this time, jie, I swear.’
You both struggle greatly with this new arrangement you've forced on each other.
You find it deeply humiliating to be monitored like a cheating partner trying to earn back your slighted lover's trust, when in truth you’re only trying to contain your brother’s dangerous obsession.
What makes it even worse is that you're forced to lie to your coworkers, telling them that the reason that you're always on the phone with your brother is because he's going through a very rough period and needs your constant support. Luckily, most of them have already met Caleb and seen first hand how clingy he is with you. They also adore him, and so they accept the excuse with sympathetic smiles and well wishes, but that doesn't make the situation any less embarrassing.
The one person who appears to doubt your claims is the one person you never want to find out the truth. But it's hard to hide from him when Caleb is ten times worse whenever you're alone with Xavier. The silver-haired man must clearly see how nervous and uncomfortable you get whenever Caleb calls during your missions. He tried a couple of times to ask if everything is okay, but you'd brushed him off more than a little harshly and he stopped asking since. You'd feel bad for it if you didn’t fully know that you're doing him a favour. He doesn’t need to get involved with your mess and you certainly don't need his condescending pity.
For his part, Caleb struggles almost as much as you do—if his constant whining is any indication. Though you do not feel that your situations are in any way comparable.
He keeps his end of the deal and goes on dates, sending proof whenever you ask for it—chat screenshots, photos of dates, even awkward selfies with the girl of the minute. You can tell that his heart is not in it any more than before but at least he sells it better. But make no mistake, he makes sure to remind you constantly that you are forcing these relationships on him and that this arrangement is not an excuse for you to try to get with Xavier or anyone else.
The one thing he refuses to do, no matter how many dates he goes on with different girls or even the same one, is to get physical with any of them. It's the one line he won't cross again, no matter how much you push. You know that sex isn't the end all be all of relationships, but the fact that he can't bring himself to sleep with or even mess around with any of the girls doesn't bode well for either of you.
Is it the fantasy of having sex with you that's got him so hung up? Would the spell finally break if you actually fuck him or will it make everything ten times worse?
That question plagues you more and more as time flies by. Day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year—time brings his graduation day looming closer and closer, and with it the actualisation of the dreaded promise you made to him.
If you can't find a girl who can make him fall for her, then you might really have to lose your virginity to your little brother.
________________________
You feel dreadfully exhausted tonight, but sleep is out of the question for you. If you miss Caleb’s nightly call, there will be hell to pay. If you even so much as don't pick up by the second ring, his mind starts spiraling and he makes up all sorts of insane scenarios in his head of you sneaking off with Xavier or being out on a date with someone else or god forbid in bed with another man getting your back blown out.
He'd work himself up into a frenzy in only a few moments and you'd have to spend the rest of the night talking him down from abandoning it all to come stay with you forever or forcing you to quit your job and become his indoor jiejie.
So when his call doesn't come at ten o'clock sharp, you're immediately on high alert. Still, you try to convince yourself that him being a few minutes late is normal and was bound to happen one day, and that the opposite is actually insane. But as the minutes lapse from single digits to two, you start to fret. You check your phone signal, making sure it's strong and that his calls aren't being bounced back. You try to call yourself and it goes through fine. You check your messaging apps to see if he has sent anything to let you know he'll be late calling.
But there is nothing wrong with your phone and he hasn't texted or tried to call you since five. What the hell is going on?
Then your thoughts turn from anxiety to terror. What if something happened to him? Though he is still just a trainee pilot, his job is incredibly dangerous and could go awry at any moment. What if he has gotten into an accident at work? What if he's lying injured in a hospital in Skyhaven, comatosed and unable to ask for you? What if he's in bits and pieces all over the floating island.
No. Surely, they would have called you if he had gotten into an accident. But what else could explain your brother's uncharacteristic silence?
So you try to reach him yourself. You call and text but get no response. That's when the horror really sets in.
You scour his social media for any clue but find nothing to indicate where he might be or what happened to him. You don't have any of his friends’ contact details but you know that his closest friend and roommate is called Gideon and it only takes a cursory look at Caleb's profile to find him and send him a frantic message asking about Caleb's whereabouts.
Oh, you’re Caleb’s older sister! I’ve heard so much about you from him.
You can only imagine what else he’s heard from others.
Do you know where he is? He hasn’t called me tonight. He always calls.
You know you’re only feeding the rumors, but right now you don’t care. You need to know that Caleb is safe and in one piece.
Uh, I don’t think I can say. It’s classified.
His words immediately set you on edge, confirming all your worries. So you weren’t being paranoid. He really is in trouble.
If you don’t tell me where he is right now I’ll take the earliest train to Skyhaven and knock down every door until I find him.
You won’t… He’s on a mission.
What mission?
I can’t say. It’s classified.
I don’t care. Is he in trouble? When is he coming back? Where the hell is he? Gideon, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me, I’ll come find you and get the truth out of you.
Alright. Alright. I shouldn’t really be telling you this but he, and a handful other top cadets, were chosen for a secret mission in deepspace.
Deepspace? What the fuck is the DAA doing in deepspace and why did they send my brother there?
I don’t know. As I said, it's classified.
Gideon, I know you’re my brother’s closest friend, but if anything happens to him because you’re keeping things from me, I won’t spare you.
Perhaps you’re being unfair to the guy, but you don’t really care. You don’t care that it’s classified. You don’t care why he was sent on this mission. To hell with it all. You’ll go there and bring your little brother back yourself even if it meant he’d be treated like a wimp or even kicked out of the DAA, and you’re seen as the crazy, controlling older sister who ruined her little brother’s future. You don’t care about any of it. You just want him home safe.
I swear, I really don’t know.
Well, when is he supposed to come back?
That’s the thing… It was supposed to be a one day mission. All the other cadets have returned, only he and his mission partner haven’t.
Your blood runs cold. The phone shakes in your hands.
Is he…?
He’s alive. That’s all I know. Apparently they’re still receiving transmission from his ship, but no one can talk to him directly. At least, I can’t.
I’m coming to Skyhaven.
________________________
You don't manage to catch a wink of sleep that night, pacing around the apartment the entire time, waiting for the sun to rise, until your legs ache and your blood stagnates, your poor heart struggling to pump it from your busy feet to your overwhelmed brain.
You check your phone obsessively, refreshing messages and call logs until the phone overheats and burns your skin.
By the early hours of the morning, when you still haven’t heard anything from or about Caleb, you call into work to request emergency leave, and hop onto the earliest train to Skyhaven. The journey there has always been long, but today it feels endless. As you ride the high speed train, you think of all the times your little brother has ridden it and how he felt, anxious at times when you’d been fighting, excited and hopeful when you’d make up, terrified when you’d put distance between you. You think of how the one thing he ever really wanted was to be with you and how he’d been so obsessive about it, it had made you overlook what a privilege it was to spend time with him and have him as your little brother.
You will not let this be a life-long regret. You will bring him back.
When you finally arrive at the DAA, you raise absolute hell.
You storm through the campus, banging on every door you can find, from low-level administrative staff to senior faculty members. You demand answers. Where is your brother? When will he be back? Why was he sent on this suspicious mission without your knowledge? How do they plan to guarantee his safe return?
You make it very clear that Caleb is not some dispensable toy soldier for them to throw into the void. He has a family. He has people who love him. And you will not let his disappearance go quietly.
Your persistence eventually causes enough of a scene that you’re escorted—basically dragged—into the office of the man overseeing the mission. Professor Lucius.
The gray-haired man is seated behind his desk when you’re ushered into the room. You pause for a moment as you appraise him. He appears slim and unassuming, nothing like the stern, uniformed military men littered around the campus. He looks more like a scholar than a soldier.
“Welcome, Miss Xia.” He offers you a calm smile but you have no time for smiles and no capacity for calm. His voice sets you in motion, and you rush towards him, slamming your hands on the desk in front of him as you lean down to look at him with wild eyes.
“Where the hell is my brother?”
“Please, have a seat.” He says smoothly, unfazed by your outburst, and gestures to the chair by your side.
You ignore the offer. “Where the hell is he?”
Professor Lucius sighs, folding his hands on the desk. “In Deepspace. As to his exact location… I’m afraid I can’t be too sure at this moment. He seems to have ventured into an uncharted part of deepspace.”
Your blood boils at how at ease he seems by this troubling information, as if he’s misplaced an ornament rather than your beloved, precious brother. “How could this happen? Why the hell is he in deepspace? What exactly are you people up to? He’s still a trainee, you had no right to send him out there without notifying me!”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you the details of that.” Professor Lucius says calmly, “All I can assure you is that your brother is alive and we’re doing our best to get him back to you.”
“How can you do shit if you don’t even know where he is?” Your scream, enraged.
“We’re still sending out signals to guide him back to us. We’ve also dispatched reinforcements to try and locate his ship.”
“And have you located it?”
“Not yet, but I’m confident we will. If you’d just go back to Linkon and leave this to us—”
“Like hell, I will.” You grit out, your hand reaching out like second nature to grab your weapon, pointing it directly at the man who made your brother disappear. “Tell me where my brother is right now or I swear I’ll—”
A shadow slinks off the wall, and in the blink of an eye, a tall, thin man is standing between you and Lucius.
“Get out my way or I will shoot you.” You threaten, not sure if you’re even bluffing. If you find out that your brother is gone and this professor is behind it, it’s not going to be just a threat anymore.
“Calm down, Misssss.” The man hisses, his voice sibilant like a snake’s. “Your baby brother will be back in your loving armsssss ssssoon.”
You narrow your eyes, grip tightening on your weapon. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Ignore Viper.” Lucius says, leaning back in his chair. “He likes to engage too much in campus gossip.”
“Well, go fucking gossip somewhere else and leave me and the professor to chat.” You seethe, keeping your weapon pointed at where Lucius’s chest would be if Viper wasn’t standing in the way.
“I’m afraid Viper must remain here for my safety.”
“You think he’s going to protect you?”
“Try me.” The green haired man grins, his teeth sharp and far too numerous to be natural, but you pay it no mind, launching yourself over the desk and towards him.
Your first kick slams into his ribs with all the pent up anger and terror you’ve felt for the past half a day. Viper lets out a pained hiss, staggering backwards but not getting out of the way. Whatever. You’ve still got plenty of rage left. You follow up with a vicious elbow to his jaw, making his head snap back with a sickening crack.
For a split second, you freeze in horror at the odd angle of his neck, convinced he will fall dead at any moment. But still, he stands, and then he slowly turns his head back towards you, blood pouring between his jagged teeth.
Your momentary shock costs you, and he manages to land a hit on you, kicking you hard in the stomach. The air explodes from your lungs as you double over, and before you can recover, his fist crashes into your face. Pain pours out along with the blood from your nose, and your vision swims from the impact.
You hit the ground hard. Viper is on you in an instant, and through your hazy vision you see him rearing his arm for another punch. No. You will not go down so easily. You will prevail because you have someone you’re fighting for.
Blinking desperately to clear your vision, you manage to block his fist. Grabbing his arm, you twist it savagely, fully intending on breaking it. And it does, but not the way bone breaks. It doesn’t feel right, doesn’t sound right.
Still, he howls in pain, and you use the leverage to roll him over, ending up on top. He bares his fangs at you and lunges upwards, trying to sink them into your throat. You grab his head and slam it to the ground, banging it against the hard surface once. But that doesn’t stop him. So you do it again. And again. And again. Until his head is a mess of blood and… metal?
You feel an electric shock go through your palm, and you yank your hand back, staring down in shock at the blood soaked metal and wire of the man, thing, under you.
“What are you?” You breathe, chest heaving.
But he just gives you a bloody grin. “Now I sssee where little Caleb getsss his violence from. You raissed him to be jusst like you.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You snarl, drawing your gun and pointing it straight at his head. “Whatever you are, a bullet will kill you just the same.”
“That’s quite enough, Miss Xia.” Lucius hurries out, “Viper is only here to help your brother. We all are.”
For a split second, you relish the sound of panic in the man’s voice. So he’s not so unshakeable after all. But then you look at the crumpled, bloody thing under you, and a wave of nausea rolls through you.
God, you were going to kill him.
You jump up, putting some distance between you. You tear your eyes away from him as you wipe his blood on your pants. “You’re the ones who did this.” You say shakily, swallowing down the bile at the back of your throat.
“He asked for it.” Lucius hisses, “He wanted to be included in the mission. He is one of the DAA’s most promising pilots and he wanted to prove that one day he would make a worthy soldier.”
“You’re fucking lying. Caleb doesn’t want to be a soldier!” You snarl, “He’s only a boy, and when he’s back, I will never let you or any of your goons come near him again.”
“A boy?” Lucius laughs and leans back in his chair. “I suppose you have raised him, and in a way will always see him as a little boy. You’re been like a mother to him, after all.” Your hands curl into fists as he studies you with a cold, contemptuous look, and you struggle to smother down the rage threatening to consume you again. Lucius is old. He might not survive the same treatment you’ve given Viper, and if he dies, your brother might never make it back. “But he’s a grown man now, and he has made his own decision. You can ask him yourself when he comes back.”
You glare at him, nails digging into your palms, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst from your chest. “You’d better hope he comes back. Or I will bring you, and whoever is behind you, down. I will make sure that whatever suffering Caleb has gone through will be repaid tenfold to every last one of you.”
________________________________
One day turns into two, then three, and soon you lose all sense of time.
You practically live at the DAA now, showing up every single day to demand updates and answers. Though you see Lucius or his pet every day, you get no more tangible information from them than what the first meeting has given you.
So you don’t stop there. If they won’t tell you what is happening with your brother, then you’ll just have to do your own investigation. You’re good at it. It’s part of your job, after all.
You question anyone and everyone, from faculty, to administrators, to even random cadets—the latter prove to be more helpful than any of these useless, spineless officials. You gather that this professor Lucius doesn’t even work at the DAA. He apparently is affiliated with a group called EVER and the farspace fleet.
You’ve heard of this EVER group a few times at your job, and it’s never been to do with anything good. They’re suspected of shady dealings, questionable research and protocore smuggling. What the hell is your brother doing associating with them? What do they have on him? And why hasn’t he mentioned any of this to you? Does he feel like he can’t come to you with these things anymore because of everything that has happened lately? How have you failed him this badly?
The longer you are separated from him, the more life ceases to have any meaning or purpose. Your entire life has been dedicated to him—to raising him well, to making sure he gets a good education, achieves his dreams, and finds the woman who will give him the happiness and love he deserves. He has always been the centre of your world. Even when you’d pushed him away, it was for his own good.
You may have wanted things for yourself too—friends of your own, a lover, a job where you weren’t overshadowed by your golden brother, but never, for a second, did you really want to be separated from him. For what are the trees without the sunshine? How can flowers bloom in eternal shade? The little garden of your own you’d so wished to build can only wither and die without your sun.
And if he doesn’t come back, you too will wither and die.
Gideon, bless him, takes pity on you. When he sees you at the academy, from dusk to dawn, for the third day in a row, he offers you Caleb’s dorm bed to stay in while you wait for his return. You accept without hesitation.
That night, when you lay your head on your little brother’s pillow and breathe in the scent of him still clinging to the sheets, the tears finally come. You hadn’t allowed yourself to cry before this moment because, in an irrational, superstitious way, you’d convinced yourself that if you cry then you’d be admitting that you’d lost him. And you will never, ever accept that until you are holding his cold, limp body in your arms. And then you’d quickly follow.
But when the first whiff of his scent hits your body, it bypasses every mental roadblock you’d put in to protect yourself, smashing through them and taking over your body until you’re a shaking, sobbing mess.
___________________________
On the seventh day, he finally returns.
You hear of it not from Lucius nor any official, but from Gideon, who sprints out of his lecture hall the moment he gets word. He finds you camped out in the administration building and breathlessly informs you that Caleb’s ship has returned and is preparing for landing.
You’re already running before he finishes his sentence.
You reach the runway just as the ship begins its descent. A growing crowd of students, instructors, and security gathers around you, but you barely register them. Your heart hammers faster with every passing second, thundering in your ears louder than the roar of the aircraft.
It feels like he’s been gone from you forever, and for a terrible moment, you wonder if he really has. What if they’re bringing back his body? What if you have to stare at his lifeless face, cold and still, silently blaming you for pushing him away and into the claws of the vile professor? What if… what if the ship comes back empty, and you never get to hold your brother again, not even his remains?
You become paralysed by the mounting fear, your body rooted to the spot as the ship touches down with a heavy thud. For a long time nothing happens. The ship is still. The crowd around you is silent. Your heart is seemingly the last living thing in the world. But not for long. Not if this ghost ship has claimed your brother’s life.
Then, slowly, the ship opens up and the ramp lowers down—so languidly as if its passengers are entirely unaware of the world waiting on them. And finally, finally, you see a silhouette at the top of the ramp, broad-shouldered and imposing, seemingly untouched by the week-long ordeal in deepspace. A flicker of reluctant admiration rises in you. That must be your brother’s mission partner. With a man who looks so capable, Caleb had to have been in good hands.
As the man starts his descent down the ramp, you strain to look behind, searching for your brother, but all you see is a small figure—too small to be a man, certainly not a man as tall as your brother.
Where is he? You thought there were only two pilots on that ship. Where did he go?
You crane your neck, scanning desperately behind the two pilots, anxiety clawing higher with every passing second. Your knees feel weak. The world starts to tilt.
But before you can collapse into a heaving mess on the ground, the sun catches the man’s face, illuminating those familiar boyish features that even the darkness of deepspace couldn’t dim, and your heart swells so large in your chest, it fills your entire ribcage and smothers your lungs. With no air left inside them, you take off, running breathlessly towards your baby brother, desperate to hold him in your arms again.
But at the gate, you’re blocked by the guards who stand in your way. “Ma’am, you have to wait! It is not safe to go onto the runway!”
“I don’t care! Let me go. I need to go to him!” You shout, ready to fight them to get to him.
But before you can, you feel the air around you suddenly grow thin, and in a split second, the guards who had stopped you are flung out of the way.
You never could run gracefully whenever Caleb messed around with gravity. Even when he lessened its downward pull rather than multiplying it, it was still a struggle in its own way, making you feel like an astronaut taking their first ever steps on the moon. But you don’t have to go far. You only take a few wobbly steps before Caleb closes the distance between you in long, urgent strides.
To your surprise, instead of hauling you into his arms and lifting you off the ground the way he so often liked to do since his growth spurt gave him a good few inches on you, he bends his tall frame down and lets you wrap your arms around him. He latches onto you, seemingly trying to bury himself into your body the way he did when he was smaller than you.
Oh, Baby. You must’ve been so scared out there.
He hugs you so tightly it feels like he might break your ribs, but you still pull him fast towards you. You’d let him break you open, and then wrap your arms around the shattered pieces of your ribcage if that is what it took to keep him safe. Him. Your Caleb. Your little brother. Your baby. He is back in your arms and you’ll never, ever let anyone or anything take him away from you again.
“God, I thought I lost you.” You sob into his neck, tears soaking his flightsuit. “I thought—”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb whispers, pulling back just enough to cradle your face in his large hands, thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I’m here. I came back to you.”
His eyes follow the trail of your tears to where one of them trickles towards your mouth, and runs along the seams. He stares at them, the longing clear in his gaze.
You lace your fingers in his hair and pull him closer until your noses brush, your breaths mingling as one, and it feels like you could become one if you would just give him what he wants. Then you would never lose him again.
You lean up, forgetting where you are and who is around you, but before your lips can touch, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You startle, swinging your head around towards the source, your fists still clinging to Caleb’s dirty flight suit, prepared to fight tooth and nail to protect him.
Your heart seizes up in shock and terror when you realise Lucius is standing in front of you with a crowd of students and staff gathered a little way behind him.
“Welcome back, son.” He greets, and it is that word, that last poisonous word, that makes you rage. “We have a lot to catch up on. Why don’t you follow me back to my office?”
“He is not your son.” You snarl, staying firmly in front of Caleb’s larger body as if you could physically shield him from his view. “And you will never come near him ever again.”
He gives you a condescendingly patient smile. “Now, now, Miss Xia. Please calm down. Your brother is perfectly capable of speaking for himself.” He turns his pointed gaze towards Caleb, and you want to lunge forward and gouge his hateful eyes out so he could never lay them on your little brother ever again. “Or do you need your big sister’s permission, Captain?”
Caleb tenses behind you, and you glance back to see the pretty shape of his lips twist downwards in displeasure, and you think for sure he will set this arrogant prick straight. But then he turns his gaze towards you, and his features soften ever so slightly. “It's okay, jie. The professor just wants to make sure that the mission went well.”
“Obviously, it hasn’t.” You squawk, “You were supposed to be back 6 days ago!”
“We just ran into a small hiccup, that’s all.” He brushes off your concern, and you stare at him incredulously as he turns back to the loathsome man. “The mission was otherwise a great success, professor. But as you can see, my sister is very distressed about my unexpected absence. If you could let me spend some time with her to reassure her that I’m fine, I’ll debrief you on everything first thing in the morning.”
You watch in shock as Caleb speaks over you as if you're a hysterical woman who needs to be calmed down by the level-headed man, and not an older sister who is rightfully furious that her little brother almost lost his life on a questionable mission. And worst of all, he still wants to associate with the very person who sent him on it!
Lucius is quiet for a moment, pinning you down with that gloating, condescending gaze that seems to say, ‘See, you silly woman? Your baby brother is no longer a baby. He is a man, and he will do as men do. You can’t protect him. You can’t stop him.’
No. You refuse to believe it. Caleb must just be pretending, playing along until the two of you are alone so he can tell you the truth of everything and confess how he was forced into this, and that he’ll never do it again.
“Professor Lucius.” Comes a smooth, confident voice. You turn to see a young woman step forward and place a hand on the professor’s arm. “Let them have their family time together. She’s a civilian, and she doesn’t know the nature of our job. It all must be so hard on her. I’ll fill you in on the details while they catch up.”
Civilian? Why is everyone treating you like you’re a swooning woman? You’re a deepspace hunter, goddammit! Any one of them would lose their mind if their loved one went missing and they had no idea whether they were coming back. And who the hell is she, anyway?
You eye the way she seems so comfortable with the professor, before your gaze sweeps over her and her dirty, dishevelled uniform. With a start, you realise that this is Caleb’s mission partner, the one you saw walking behind him off the ramp. What spell did this man have on these young pilots that they’d risk their lives for his approval?
The professor hesitates for a moment, regarding you with that same haughty, condescending look. You glare right back.
“I tried to tell her that you’d be back safely, but she wouldn’t believe me.” He finally says with a sigh, then adds pointedly. “I, of course, never doubted either of your capabilities.”
You want to maul him. You didn’t doubt your brother. You doubted the man who sent him off to his potential death.
But Caleb’s soft voice stops you as he murmurs into your hair. “It’s okay, jie.”
His reassurance does not dim your fury, but you bite your tongue. The longer you stay here fighting with Lucius, the more time you waste not having Caleb alone and in your arms while he explains why he never wanted any of this to happen and that he’s so sorry and will never hurt you like this again.
Lucius begrudgingly listens to the two young pilots, and you watch as he and Caleb’s mission partner walk away together, leaving you and Caleb behind… surrounded by Gideon and a crowd of students and staff. They are clearly eager to welcome Caleb back and bombard him with questions about the mysterious mission, but they hesitate after the scene they’d just witnessed. You’re sure most of them had heard about you before, and this little show may not have done you many favours, but you don’t care. You only care that your brother is alive and back to you.
“Uh, welcome back, man.” Gideon starts awkwardly, stepping forward to pat Caleb on the back.
“Thanks, Gideon.” Caleb replies tightly, still tense from the confrontation, and before either Gideon or any of the other students had the chance to speak up again, Caleb continues, “As you can see, me and my sister have a lot to catch up on. Would you mind leaving the dorm to us for the night? I don’t want to send her back to Linkon in this state.”
In this state. Again, he talks about you as if you’re the crazy one here. Has the world gone mad?
“Of course.” Gideon says with a small, awkward smile. “She’s already been staying with me for the past week.”
Caleb’s hold on you tightens immediately, his overgrown fingernails digging into your waist. “Well, that’s just perfect.” He mutters, giving him a strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
He doesn’t waste another second, pulling you by the waist away from the crowd and towards his dorm room. Once you’re out of earshot, he hisses, “Is it true? Were you staying in the dorm with him?”
“I wanted to be here whenever you came back, and he graciously offered your bed.” You explain, a little caught off guard by the chosen topic of conversation.
“You should have kicked him out then.” Caleb growls. “Why did he need to sleep with you?”
“He didn’t sleep with me.” You snap, “I slept in your bed. He slept in his.”
“You were alone in the room with him for days on end.” He plows on, “That is unacceptable.”
“Are we really talking about this right now?” You stare at him incredulously as you reach his dorm door and watch him unlock it. “You just came back from a week-long disappearance in deepspace! You went on a mission you never even mentioned to me, and this is what you choose to focus on?”
“And I’ve come back to my sister cozying up with another man!” He spits out, shoving you inside. The moment the door closes, Caleb is pushing you against it, his mouth crashing against yours, kissing you like a starving animal.
In your shock, you don’t respond fast enough, and that isn’t to Caleb’s liking. His hand goes to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks to force your mouth open so he can shove his tongue inside, the both of you moaning as you finally taste each other after this frightful week.
“Fuck, I missed you.” He pants into your mouth, pressing his hips against you, letting you feel just how hard he already is. His hands slide under your shirt, palming your breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over your nipple as he groans into your mouth.
“Didi—” You try to say, needing to get some answers from him before he works himself up beyond reason. But he doesn’t wanna listen, his hands squeezing your breasts tighter, fingers pinching your nipples between them, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through you.
“Missed this body. Missed the way you feel. Missed the way you taste. Nothing could ever compare. No one could ever come close to you, jie.” He rambles deliriously, grinding his cock against you through your clothes.
“Didi—wait.” Your back arches, involuntarily pressing yourself more into his touch, your panties already growing wet, your body trained to respond to him by now—his touch, his taste, his scent.
Damn it. You can’t both lose yourselves in this.
Lifting your hands up, you press them to his chest and shove him back harshly. “Caleb, stop! We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. Just let me have what I need for once before I die, jie.” He grunts, continuing to grind against you, and even through your clothes you can feel his hard cock rubbing insistently against your clit. It makes your knees weak and your toes tingle.
But the mention of his death is like a bucket of ice water that has been dumped on you. “Yes, we do. And don’t you fucking dare say that again. You won’t die because you will stay away from that man, do you hear me?”
“You want to talk? Fine.” He glares down at you, eyes blazing with anger and unsatiated desire. “Let’s start with you never speaking to Gideon again. Don’t see him, don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him.”
He tries to capture your lips with his again, but you turn your face away. He chases after it, his lips only meeting your cheek and jaw, and he lathers them in wet, needy kisses that he had hoped your mouth would reciprocate.
In a bid to stop him, you slap your hand over his mouth and push his face back. “That’s not what I want to talk about.” You hiss, frustrated. “I want to know what the hell this mission was for and why you ever thought it was a good idea to go and not even tell me.”
He drags your hand down so he can talk back. “If I told you, you would have tried to stop me.”
“Damn right, I would have.”
“Yeah?” He drawls, his hips giving a harsh thrust against you. “What would you have given to stop me, jie?”
You grit your teeth together, his body stoking the burning desire inside of you while his words fan your fury, both of them fighting to gain the upper hand.
“Do you think about anything else?” You berate him, and he chuckles darkly. “No. You drive me fucking crazy. I can’t help it. You did this to me, Jie. When are you going to take responsibility for making me like this? How much longer will you keep denying me? I am running out of patience, jie.”
Your breath catches in your throat. His words are like knives to your chest, slicing through your heart, cutting up your lungs, massacring what you won’t give him. Is that his revenge for denying him?
Caleb has always been demanding and impatient, but something feels different about him now. Something has changed in him out there in deepspace, and it scares you.
Your body goes rigid when you feel his hand move down your body as he tries to push his fingers under the waistband of your pants. You rear your hand back and slap him hard across the face. “Stop it. Now. You’re scaring me.”
His head swings to the side for a moment, and you try to use the momentary stillness to catch your breath. What is wrong with him?
When he looks back at you, the ravenous hunger is not gone from his face, but it is tempered by a simpering need.
“I’m scaring you? I’ve been terrified out there, jie. I thought I would not make it back to you.” He whimpers, desperate. “I thought I lost my chance and that I will never find you again. I was so lost without you. So empty and hopeless. Why do you keep doing this to me, jie? I know you love me like I love you. Why do you torture me?”
You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re the one who went on that mission. You’re the one who chose to leave!”
“You’ve been trying to leave me for years!” He shouts, and the pain in his voice paralyses you. You stand rigid as his hands push your shirt up over your breasts, bearing them to his ravenous mouth. He bends down and kisses them, lips and tongue hot and needy against your skin. “Tell me. Does it hurt, jie?”
Yes. It hurts so bad.
You choke on a sob. “Didi, I—”
But your words suddenly catch in your throat as your eyes land on a strange red mark on the side of his neck. Though Caleb looks haggard and dirty from the mission, he doesn’t appear injured. So what the hell is that?
You reach up with trembling fingers and touch it cautiously. “What is this?”
“It’s nothing.” He brushes you off, and tries to catch your lips in his again. “Just focus on me.”
You frown, and grab a fistful of his hair to yank his head back, craning his neck to the side to inspect the mark more closely. Your stomach drops as recognition hits you. You know exactly what this is. Caleb has left a few on you before when he got too wound up to listen to your warnings. You had never dared to give him one in return… a hickey. A love bite.
Your vision swims as you spot another one peeking just under the collar of his shirt.
“Off.” You order, voice quivering as you tug at the hem of his shirt.
He shakes his head, and tries to press himself to you again. “We don’t need to. I can do it with my clothes on—”
You shove the fabric upward forcefully, and the sight that greets you makes your stomach plummet.
Faint hickeys and reddish-purple love bites scatter across his collarbones, his chest, and even lower on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his pants. They’re of varying ages, some fresh and angry red, others older and fading into bluish-purple. His once-flawless skin is corrupted, littered with the evidence of someone else’s claim.
You feel sick.
“Who?” You ask, voice tight.
“It doesn’t matter.” Caleb answers quickly, pushing his shirt back down. “You’re here now.”
“Who?” You snap, unrelenting.
Caleb hesitates, searching your eyes for something you don’t know—lenience? Heartbreak? jealousy? You don’t know if he finds them. All you can feel is fury.
“Jenny.”
Your stomach twists into a thousand knots. “Who is Jenny?”
“My mission partner.”
Of course. Who else could it be? The woman who accompanied him on the mission that almost took him from you.
“I thought you were trying to find your way back.”
“I was.” He insists, “I wanted to come back to you right away, but I didn’t know where I was or if I even would be able to make it back.”
So he decided to fuck it all and sleep with the nearest living creature?
You’ve been stuck here in Skyhaven for a week, doing nothing but investigating his disappearance—off work, barely sleeping, barely eating, terrified to death you might never see him again—all while he was out having a rendezvous in deepspace with some girl he never even mentioned to you before?
“How long have you been together?” You ask flatly, and his eyes widen. “We’re not together.”
“Oh.” You mutter. “So you’re just fucking?”
“We’re not.” He clarifies quickly. “We just… helped each other while we were stranded.”
Like you've been helping him? So if you weren’t there, would he have latched onto the closest other woman? Is that how it really is?
“It didn’t mean anything.” He carries on urgently, “It’s because I missed you so much.”
You laugh mirthlessly, his explanation meaningless to you. You missed him too. You worried you’d never see him again too. Yet it didn’t even cross your mind to seek help in anyone else.
“Are you upset?” Caleb asks so stupidly, so utterly moronic. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. You’re here now.”
He smiles at you in a way that would normally melt your heart, but right now it only makes it burn.
You’re here now, jie. I don’t have to seek other women out to get my rocks off when you’re so easy.
When Caleb sees the harsh grimace on your face, his expression crumbles further. “Jiejie, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be mad at me. I won’t touch her or anyone else again.”
“I don’t care that you touched her. That’s not why I’m mad.” You grit out forcefully.
It is not because you’re jealous or whatever delusional fantasy he might have about it. You just didn’t realise you were so easily replaceable. If you had known, you wouldn’t have been torturing yourself to try and accommodate and guide his inappropriate desires when he could have so easily spared you and gone to someone else.
“Then why are you looking at me like that?” He asks fearfully.
“Like what? Like you lied to me?” You spit out. He has been lying to you all this time. He doesn’t actually have any issues being with other women. He just wanted you to think he did, but the second he thought he might never see you again, he so easily moved onto someone else.
Maybe it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, or hurt as much. This is exactly the kind of break you’d been hoping for. It’s all the proof you needed that he doesn’t need you after all. But instead, that revelation leaves an uncomfortable emptiness in your chest. He lied. You weren’t anything special to him. You were just convenient.
“I didn’t lie! We didn’t even have sex, jiejie, I swear.” He defends himself passionately, “It was just a few kisses!”
You scoff and try to get out from under his hold, but he falls to his knees and clutches onto your waist tightly, latching onto you and preventing you from leaving.
“Please, believe me.” He begs, eyes wide and scared like a child praying to be spared the whip. “I won’t do it again, I promise! It’s only you for me, jie.”
Fucking liar.
“You can fuck whoever you want, Caleb.”
“Don’t say that.” He pleads, anxiously holding onto you. “Don’t be upset with me. I won’t touch Jenny again.”
The sound of her name on his lips makes you clench your fist so hard you feel your nails bite into your palm.
Jenny. Jenny. Jenny.
Who the hell is this Jenny? Is she the reason he went on that stupid mission in the first place? Did she convince him? Was he trying to impress her?
“Get the hell off the ground, Caleb. You’re not a fucking baby.” You hiss venomously, staring down at his teary eyes and feeling so much anger and heartache it makes you want to dig your fingernails under his skin and flay off the marks littering his body.
He shakes his head, the tears falling off his long, pretty lashes, completely oblivious to the danger he’s in. “I am. I’m your baby and you’re my jiejie. I won’t let you abandon me.”
His teary proclamation brings about a sudden, strange sense of calmness to you.
He is your baby, isn’t he? Despite how hard you’ve tried to push him to grow up, and how much Lucius and the rest of the world insist that he’s become a man, he is still your baby. Lucius is a filthy liar. Caleb will always be your baby.
And babies act out sometimes. They throw tantrums. They make mistakes. They think they know better. That doesn’t mean they can’t be corrected or that they can’t still be protected from bad influences.
You stand there for a long moment, fingers hovering uncertainly above his head before they finally sink into his messy hair, stroking it gently. Caleb lets out a shaky, relieved breath against your stomach, and holds you even tighter, sniffling softly.
“Why did you go on that mission, baby?”
“They said if we brought back the information they needed, we’d be considered for a job right after graduation. Me and…” He pauses, correcting himself. “We were the only ones who succeeded!"
He beams up at you, giving you the same puppy-eyed look he’s used since childhood whenever he wanted your praise. What the hell should you praise him for? For being so ravished by another woman he looks ruined? For almost losing his life to get information Lucius wanted about… what exactly?
“What information?” You demand.
He bows his head, rubbing his wet cheek against your belly. “I can’t tell you that, or they’ll drop me.”
“So you’re just going to keep hiding things from me?” You growl, and Caleb whines like a kicked dog. “I don’t want to, jie. I want to tell you everything, but I’m not allowed to. Just know that it’s for us. For our future. Professor Lucius can get me a really well-paying job if I prove myself to him.”
“That man is dangerous.” You tell him heatedly, “He could have cost you your life by forcing you to go on that mission, and he wouldn’t have even batted an eye. ”
“Every reward needs risk, jie.” Caleb tells you as if he was imparting some sage knowledge upon you. “And he didn’t force me. I’m the one who agreed to the mission.”
“Well, you’ve done it. Congratulations.” You grit out sarcastically. “You’ve proven yourself to him and nearly lost your life for it. Now stay away from him.”
He shakes his head, nuzzling his nose into your belly and pressing soft, placating kisses there. “It’s too late, jie. I’m already involved. I can’t pull out now.”
“Why? Is he threatening you? I can speak to captain Jenna and Xavier. Whatever he has over you, we can help you.”
His face changes immediately at the mention of Xavier—the teary, apologetic look falling from his face as easy as the tears had. “No. I don’t need his fucking help. I know what I am doing.”
You tug on his hair harshly, separating his head from your body and craning his neck into an uncomfortable position. “Yes, because you’re a grown-up now, aren’t you? Going on secret missions, hooking up with strange women, keeping your big sister in the dark about it all.”
Suddenly, he stands up to his full height, your hand slipping from his hair as he towers over you. Suddenly he doesn’t look like a baby anymore.
“Does it bother you that much?” He asks, cocking his head to the side and watching your face closely. “Is it because I let her touch me, or because I didn’t get your permission first?”
“I told you—”
“Are you upset because I chose her myself?” He interrupts, a wild glint in his eyes. “Because you knew the ones you chose for me would never work?”
“You’re delusional. I don’t care who you fuck.” You insist, trying to put a stop to his latest fantasy.
“Really? Because you look like you want to hit me right now.” He smirks, leaning closer. “Do it. I’ll let you.”
“I’m not going to hit you.”
“Choke me? You like doing that.”
“Stop it, Caleb.” You spit out harshly, but that only makes his smirk grow wider.
“Come on, jie. I know you’re upset that she touched me because you know I’m yours. You can hurt me. I deserve it. I would hurt you if he touched you too.” He admits in a whisper that makes you shudder, remembering how violent he was when your loud-mouth coworker blabbered to him about you dancing with Xavier.
“I said stop it!”
“Do it, jiejie.” He goads, eyes gleaming with dark excitement. “Punish me. I’ve been bad. Do it. Hurt me. I need you to punish me, mommy.”
You slap him hard across the face.
“Shut up!”
Caleb’s head snaps to the side, his lip splitting open from the force of your slap, and a filthy moan leaves his throat. When his face turns back toward you, the lust has completely taken over once again, as red as the blood trickling down his chin—his eyes heavy and glazed, his cheeks flushed from more than just the handprint you left, and his mouth hanging open in a desperate pant.
“Fuck, jie…” He surges forward, trying to kiss you again.
But you don’t let him. You grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back, baring his neck unintentionally. And when you see that loathsome mark once again, all rational thought evaporates.
On instinct, you lean forward and sink your teeth into it, biting down hard enough that for a second, you think you might just tear it off. Not that Caleb would stop you.
“Fuck, yes, just like that.” He cries out wantonly.
“Is this what you needed, you brat?” You grit out.
“Uh-huh… yeah.” He moans shamelessly, his head falling back even further as he lets out obscene moans. The movement exposes more of his neck to you, and, vexingly, also the marks tarnishing it. “Keep going, please— don’t stop—”
He’s absolutely covered in them. If he had died on that mission, his body would’ve only borne the marks of her. There would be no trace of you.
Scowling, you lean down, and begin to savagely and systematically bite over every one that his neckline exposes.
“Ah, jiejie, fuck, that’s—” His breathing turns ragged, and he tries to grind his hips against you, seeking any bit of relief he can, but you use your free hand to keep him at a distance. “It's so good.”
When you’ve gnawed on his skin until it’s red and inflamed, and no trace of the original marks can be seen, you lean back to examine your work. Your fingernails trace over the sore spots, digging into them until his knees buckle.
“Jiejie…” He pants needily.
“You want more?” You ask, and you wish you could suppress the heated bitterness in you that wants to ask if he liked it this much when she did it to him.
“Yes.” He begs, grabbing the hem of shirt and tearing it off clumsily, no longer caring to hide the evidence of his lies from you. Anything to get his rocks off, huh?
You turn the both of you around so you can shove him against the wall, neither of you caring when the back of his head smacks against it. He doesn’t complain, just stands there limply as you to suck and bite over on his shoulders and collarbones—his trembling body arching into your mouth, seeking more and more. And you give it to him.
You make your way down his body, marking a red path along his chest. You don’t stop until the hard muscles are bruised and his nipples are swollen and puffy from the harsh treatment. Then you go lower, over the hard ridges of his abs that clench and twitch as you kiss them vengefully, going over areas she hasn’t even marked.
Caleb’s hips twitch helplessly, trying to push his clothed cock against your mouth that is so close and yet so far, but you keep one hand pressed firmly against his hip, holding him back.
“Please, jie… fuck me, just fuck me.” He begs desperately. “I need it— please—”
You ignore him, continuing to bite and suck along his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his pants. His cock strains painfully against the fabric, a big wet spot messing his big boy pilot uniform. Oh, if Lucius and Jenny could see him now—reduced to this trembling, leaking mess, begging his big sister to take him.
But he wanted to be punished, didn’t he? You always give your baby brother whatever he wants.
“Jiejie— fuck— I can’t—please. I can’t hold on much longer.” He begs, but you ignore him, trailing your free hand up his body to flick his swollen nipple while your mouth hovers dangerously close to his needy cock, hot breath teasing the soaked fabric. “Please—I’m gonna—oh, fuck!”
In his panic, he grabs the back of your head with both hands and presses your face firmly against his crotch. You feel the wet, throbbing heat of his cock twitching pitifully in his pants as he releases himself. The warm, sticky cum soaks through the fabric against your lips and cheek, the musky scent of sex and him filling your senses.
You look up to see his face so needy, frustrated, and helpless. His moans dissolve into broken sobs as he rides out the unsatisfying, ruined orgasm, hips jerking weakly against your face.
Fuck. You could cum just from the sight of him like this.
When he finally releases his death grip on your hair, you sit back on your heels to stare at him—your bites and hickeys now cover his body. His cock is still tenting the ruined front of his pants, a dark, wet spot spreading obscenely across the fabric.
He follows your gaze down his body and lets out a shaky, breathless laugh. “I thought you didn’t want to leave any marks.”
You scoff defensively. “Yeah, well… no one will be able to tell it’s me with all this shit already on you.”
Caleb’s lips curve into a satisfied smile, even as he trembles. “I will.”
You will too.
But it’s not enough. Not yet. It won't be enough until you make sure there are no traces of her left on your brother's body.
Your hands go to his pants and you undo them with quick, angry movements before pulling them down. Sure enough, there are marks on his thighs, more hickeys and love bites scattered across the powerful muscles. So she got there too. Did she just kiss around it? Did she take it in her mouth? Was he lying? Did she fuck him?
You grit your teeth and bend down. You bite over the marks on his thighs until you leave no trace of her, sucking hard enough to leave fresh, angry bruises of your own. Caleb’s thighs tremble violently under your mouth, his breath coming in gasps as his cock dribbles precum to the floor.
When you’re finally satisfied that there is no hint of her left, you take him in your mouth, tasting the cum and sweat on his skin. It’s salty and bitter, but familiar, and the taste of it makes you want to consume him so no one else can get to him ever again.
But when Caleb lets out a loud, wrecked moan and his hips buck up instinctively, trying to feed you his cock, you pull back out of reach.
“No, please! Jiejie, I need it. Need your mouth on me. I feel like I’m gonna die without you.” He cries out desperately. But you keep him pinned back, the only thing connecting you are your nails digging into his skin and the thin, glistening string of saliva and cum stretching between your lips and the swollen head of his cock.
“Do you deserve it?” You ask pointedly, “Aren’t you being punished? Isn’t that what you wanted, baby?”
“No. I’m sorry. I want you.” He goes back on his words once again. “Want you to fuck me. I’ll be good. I’m good.”
“You’re not good.” You hiss. “You’re a bad, bad boy. You don’t get to be rewarded after what you’ve done.”
“But you’ll give it to me anyway.” He whispers quietly, giving you pause. “Why would I?”
“Because you don't want her to fuck me.”
You stifle a gasp. Is he… is he doing it on purpose? “You're wrong.”
“Should I go to her then?”
You grab his cock painfully tight, squeezing until he whines, and yet he doesn’t make any attempt to get away from you. “I thought you said you wouldn’t touch her again.”
“I’m a liar, aren’t I?” He grins wickedly, and you don’t know what to believe anymore. For the first time in your life, you feel like you don’t know your own baby brother.
You let go of him as if burned, and spring up to your feet.
“What happened to you? Where did my good boy go?” You accuse this stranger in front of you that can switch up at the drop of a hat. “Why can’t you just listen to your jiejie like you used to? When did you turn into this callous man I hardly recognize?”
He stares at you for a long moment, his face so chillingly blank.
“Is that what you want?” He finally asks, “For me to stay by your side, so pathetically in love with you but never asking for more? You want me to go back to repressing everything I feel for you? You want to pretend that I’m a sexless, innocent child you can do whatever you want with, without any consequences? Is that what will make you happy?”
Maybe. Was that so bad? You’re his older sister, it’s natural that you want what’s good for him… and for him to remain filial and obedient.
You want him to succeed, but only at a job you approve of. You want him to be with a woman, but only in the way you think befits him. You want him to stay by your side, always loving and depending on you… but not to cross your boundaries.
Caleb smiles at you then, soft and deadly. “You want to know what will make me happy, jie?”
You take a step back. “No.”
His hand flashes out, and he pulls you back into his arms, trapping you against his battered chest.
“I want to put you in a cage that only I have the key to. I want everyone to forget you ever existed. I don’t want them to touch you, even as a memory in their minds. I want you to look at me only. I want to exist in a world where it's just the two of us. Just like it was before.” He moans fervently, as if the mere idea of it excites him. “Then all your silly worries about what's right or wrong won't matter because there would be no one else to judge us. All your friends and your job and other men that try to take you away will be gone.” His voice turns rougher then, his hold on you bruising. “It's what I'm owed. Don't you think, jie? I was made for you. It's only right that you give me what I want.”
“And what if I don’t want that?” You shiver, heart pounding against your ribs.
Caleb’s smile never wavers. He leans in closer, lips brushing your own as he whispers, “Then I would spend the rest of our lives making you realize that you do.”
A/N: this chapter was like giving birth holy hell i had to redo it like 3 times so i hope i don't regret the changes. i'm just so done with it. anyway 2 chapters left! but also i got like a BUNCH of didi leb fic ideas so stay tuned and lemme know if you wanna be tagged lol
(wc: 9.5k) ✦ summary: after your brother passes, consumed by grief, you take to the internet to order a synthetic version of him. afterward, it’s impossible to throw him out. (or: alternatively titled the trojan horse)
✦ content robot! caleb, past engineer! caleb, au where EVER deals in robotics, non-evol au, 18+ nsfw/smut, mildly dubious consent, angst, grief, mental instability, bad coping mechanisms, robot pseudocest?? robot sex, mind games, moral grayness all around, dark/yandere undertones; this fic can have multiple interpretations, pregnancy
✦ sidenote have yall ever seen that episode of black mirror? ‘be right back’? basically this: the girl’s boyfriend dies so she orders an incredibly realistic, intelligent robot to replace him. they’re identical in personality and appearance, and yet… 👀 ANYWAYS ( ⸍ɞ̴̶̷ ·̫ ɞ̴̶̷⸌ ) i have a set plot for this in my head, but i left it a lil vague so ur allowed to think of it in ur own way 🤎 if u wanna know the ‘canon’ tho.. u can absolutely ask me. the lore is so deep its traumatizing :,) anyways hope u enjoy <3 ty for 1k btw!! take this as a lil celebration treat 🥳 it took so much out of me but i think i really vibe with it heheh
He’s perfect. Nigh on.
For the first few days since his arrival, since hauling him off the foot of your porch and into your living room to unpack him- heart tickering in your chest all the while, trepidatious- you’ve just stared. Reached out your hands to hover, ghosting over the broad blade of his shoulder, his chapped lips, the slight jut of his cheekbone.
His hands, as big and weathered as you remember them (but gentle, always gentle), hang limply by his sides.
You don’t dare slip your smaller ones in them.
All of the theatrics, yet you don’t press his- its- button, either.
No, you don’t even touch it after the initial unpacking, wrenching your fingers away as soon as they get too close. As soon as they get too tempted by hope and the wish that this hunk of metal was more than just a replica of your late brother. Half of you thinks it might burn if you get too comfortable; and you won’t get comfortable— underneath the solidified layers of grief and- you have trouble saying it aloud, but bitterness- there’s still just enough common sense to keep you from taking the leap. The leap from mourning to insanity.
It’s hollow. You know that much. A nothingness enwrapped in a steely chassis full of wiring and code too technological for you to understand, all covered by a synthetic skin suit as the pretty bow on top.
And you know- what with your emotional state- that if you could peer inside, strip it down to the framework and just… take a moment to look, that you’d vomit. It’d be too much to bear, being forced to reconcile with the fact that he really is gone— and in response to it all, you’ve blown your savings on an eerily-realistic, glorified doll of him with wires for veins.
You’re trembling when you stiffly prop him against the far wall, limiting contact as much as possible, and step away, keeping your eyes on him all the while. It. Not him. Not Caleb- that’s not your fucking brother, just a disgusting, soulless fascimile of him—
But as you stand back on your feet (with the coffee table in between, just in case) to get a good look at him, like a real, proper look, your breath is taken.
The thing: He’s not just a passable carbon copy, you realize. Admittedly, he’s…
Identical.
(He’s Caleb.)
All the oxygen gusts out of you in a breeze.
You lift a shaking hand over your open mouth and choke as silent tears spill from your lashline, blurring your eyes on the way down. Wetting your knuckles as they shake wildly.
You’re crying. Of course you’re crying. This is- you can’t do this. You just can’t.
Racing upstairs, retreating to your bedroom to slam the door as if the devil himself was on your tail, only then do you drop your hand and fully sob.
It’s pitiful, really. Wretched noises that resonate from deep in your throat, your spirit wrecked as you curl up on the floor and make yourself into a ball.
Darkness comes outside, the space around you muting itself in grey colors. The puddle beneath your cheek is moonlit. You sniffle and relocate, but you don’t even bother to tuck the not-Caleb robot in its special container, no- you just settle beneath your blankets and pray it’s all a bad dream you’ll awake from come tomorrow.
Tomorrow: you’ll send him off. Return him.
You don’t care how much money it costs- for all you care, it’s paltry, it’s replaceable. And it is replaceable, that’s the bleak truth: that android stood motionless by your couch, despite having a face so familiar it’s painful, has no emotional value whatsoever. There’s no depth to it. No substance.
A skeleton built by rods. Artificial flesh modeled around thin, colorful cables and circuit boards.
I mean- he’s no better than the stapler on your desk, or the toaster on your kitchen counter. Better yet, a crumb on the floor.
A nothingness, you think again. Prettily encased in smooth, sun-speckled skin and that cottony loungewear (that still retains his smell) you could hardly part with when the online form requested his attire.
He’s perfect, nigh on, you’ll give the company who forged him that much credit, because they sure followed his pictures to a T. It looks just like him; so much so you couldn’t even bear to look at him for more than ten minutes before bolting, the emotional response so violent.
But the problem is that he’s not real. He’s not your Caleb.
✦
It’s hard to throw him away when he looks like that. When he bears the likeness of your late, beloved older brother.
Yes, you want to stuff him back in his box and return to sender, but when it comes to courage, you lack the backbone necessary to carry out your decisions.
You tiptoe down the stairs to see him again and sputter.
He’s too real, you decide in a heartbeat. Too real.
Shutting your eyes as tears begin to pour anew, lunging forward with blind intent to cache him away in the elaborate box he came in, you get to work. And you get to work quickly. You can only bear to look at it- that heartless caricature of your gege- for so long until you feel something in you, your last fragile piece, begin to fracture.
After the explosion, all you had left of him were the memories. Not an explanation, not a goodbye, not even a body. What remained of the boy you were fostered with was ash and a puerile, yet no less beloved locket with its edges burnt copper.
Now, you have something exponentially more physical and intact, unsullied by the reality of what was.
So for a moment, yes- sue you and your heart for hesitating- but it’s a hard task to seal him away.
Agonizing, really.
His arms are stiff by his sides but you feel the skin; the lump of muscle in his forearm, the bump of his elbow. The only thing that keeps you from giving into the puffed-up illusion of his being real and alive is the coolness beneath your fingertips. The unnatural, icy feel to his otherwise mortal skin that reminds in a voice, condescending like all things out of reach, see? that’s not Caleb. And you’re insulting him by thinking that it could be.
You’re halfway done nudging him towards the box (careful, despite your frenzied, fluttering heart; afraid to damage his likeness) when you trip over your own feet navigating the narrow space between your table and the couch.
It’s unthinking, the way you grab him- arms flying out to steady yourself with his broad shoulders.
In all your scrambling- something clicks. Gives under your fingerpad.
A button.
With mute horror, you watch his eyes light.
…And you can see it too, you know, registering in his gaze as it settles over you and takes you in— a blip of mirth that quickly warps into worry at the look you give him. You must appear no different than a deer in headlights.
For several seconds, you simply stand there, your palms clamming up where they dig into his shoulders, and gawk as Caleb— not-Caleb’s— expression turns to one ready to comfort.
Familiar, painfully.
The stiff hands at his side are spurred into motion, lifting to cradle your cheek while the other helps ground you by the small of your back.
“Meimei?”
No, no- don’t say that, don’t say that, internally, you have to shoehorn down all your grief as it bubbles up, and harden your face to keep from crying all over again.
…Although it’s more or less obvious you had been. The puffy eyes rimmed in red, the certain wisp of defeat to your brow and the exhaustion written all over you is clear as day. It leaves nothing to ponder.
He sounds disturbed by it all, the sadness about you that lies thick as a coating of paint. Commiserative to a fault. Lassoing you to his firm chest as he burrows your head below the dip of his chin.
He goes, “What’s wrong?” Then, “It’s okay, I’m here. I got you. Just let it all out.”
And the world around you staggers to a fall.
✦
It was very difficult to get rid of him as he stood still; when you could convince yourself he was just a startlingly realistic statue.
It’s all but impossible when he begins to move, and speak, and smile at you.
You don’t get close enough to press his button. You’re not quite strong enough to apply the distance you probably should, though, so when he takes a step forward, you take one back- but you never run.
It’s a weird limbo you’re caught in. Do you leap into his arms? Do you… Do you toss him out the door, after all? Leave him to the elements to chip away at his body; the rain to erode his fleshy outer shell?
But no. How could you do that? He-
He fucking looks like Caleb. It feels more sinful to rid yourself of him, now that he’s… on, than to indulge a little bit in the idea that he’s still alive and breathing.
If Caleb was still alive, you wonder silently one morning with no small amount of hurt, would he hate you? For whatever the hell it is you’re doing now?
You can’t even blame Gideon, not really. Without his persistent messages, and all the links he sent you of articles revolving androids and how they can help the user cope with grief, you’d have been none the wiser to the concept, sure- but at the end of the day, you made the choice to get one.
A chunk of your savings and an unprompted, fat check from Caleb’s best buddy— you decided to throw that at some futuristic company (well, not ‘some’: both men worked there- albeit they always kept their work very hush (you did catch whispers of a promotion, though, before the accident)) and one of the many services they provide.
Gideon, over the course of some months, was all but pointing you at their website, promising it would help. He’d be there to clear any confusion, in any case; hey, how neat did a walkthrough of the site from a bonafide EVER engineer sound?: Just one of his probes.
It was only two weeks back, however, when he paid an unsolicited house call, wordlessly wrapping you into his broad chest, that you caved to them.
You think about the scene while you sit at the counter and sip from your mug.
Your home smells richly of coffee, just brewed, and bacon as it sizzles. Eyeing not-Caleb with a pang of unease— not fully able to snuff out that feeling of uncanniness even as some days pass peacefully— you offer a small smile when he glances up at you.
Beaming just as he was the day before. Beaming like nothing is terribly wrong.
(To be clear, something is.)
You… can’t help but feel like you’re being monitored when he stares.
Yes, it’s a silly fear, you know that. The company your late brother worked for wasn’t exactly open with all the scientific grounds they made breakthroughs on, but he always promised that their means were lawful. Caleb wasn’t one for lies- so your doubts were soothed. So as hush-hush as EVER is sometimes, you’re fairly confident they wouldn’t ship out mass batches of faulty or otherwise rigged products.
Anyway- you suppose the weird intensity in its eyes isn’t all that off-putting when you take into account the very real personality it was formulated from.
When the pancakes (your favorite: banana chocolate chip; information he apparently already knew) turn an appetizing shade of gold, he shimmies them off the pan with a spatula and onto a plate.
That plate- loaded tastefully with bacon, a scoop of rice, and eggs with a ketchup smile painted over its face- slides before you. But though your belly growls, you don’t eat. Not right away. Wherever the culinary arts are concerned, your older brother has always excelled. Growing up, maybe you even exploited him a little for it- but he never did anything he didn’t want to; sometimes it even seemed like Caleb enjoyed sticking his neck out for you.
He pats his hands over his too-small apron (not that he minds it), frowning.
“What’s wrong, Pipsqueak? Does… Does the food look alright? I haven’t made somethin’ for you in a while, huh…?”
Oh no, the food looks fine.
It’s just that you’re the only one eating it.
And maybe it’d be better to keep that thought to yourself: part of you is just over the moon to have him standing in your kitchen with you after months apart— but it doesn’t matter that you keep your mouth shut, because Caleb reads your mind anyway.
He’s at your side in a blink, hushing away the tears that bead at your eyes out of nowhere.
“Hey, hey… No cryin’, okay? I’m just not hungry this morning, Meimei- but that doesn’t mean I won’t sit with you and talk while you eat. C’mon,” he squeezes your hand where it lies on the counter, smiling lightly.
It takes everything in you not to flinch away from the touch.
“Wouldn’t want your breakfast goin’ cold now, would we?” Pulling out the barstool beside you, he sits.
You don’t ask him to, but Caleb picks up your fork and embodies one of the several memories you have of him spoonfeeding you as a child.
“I can feed you. Just like the good ol’ times. Here, you gotta open your mouth first,” His smile strengthens when your lips, as if by habit, part. Your lashes flutter shut when that first bite touches your tongue- syrupy hotcakes and fluffy scrambled eggs- and for that you’re glad because you don’t have to see the way he marvels at you as you eat.
It’s not good for your heart.
“So? What does Pipsqueak the number one food critic have to say about my dish?” He shines, “Does it taste as good as it looks?” You can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes- the scene too nostalgic to simply idle away with indifference. You wear all your emotions on your face, anyway; you’re not fooling anybody, least of all Caleb.
“Even better,” you murmur with the barest of smiles. He presses another spoonful to your lips and you giggle.
Violet hues glitter with delight. You’ve said practically nothing to him this whole time, and he’s been patient- weirdly patient, almost- but the joy in his gaze is palpable now.
Sometimes, though, you can almost swear you see something in his gaze shift. Tuning itself like a lens. He blinks and it disappears.
“…But I will say your presentation could use some work. It’s a 7 out of 10.”
Caleb, still holding the utensil out, uses his other hand to prop his chin up. He smiles fondly as he regards you. As you’ve gotten older, it’s like every time you see the brunet, he looks at you like he’s taking you in for the first time all over again.
“Yeah?” He encourages. “Enlighten me, oh Pipsqueak- what must I do to earn those three extra points?”
“The ketchup smiley face was all lopsided,” you explain in a quiet voice, having a hard time fully immersing in this lie unraveling before you; beautiful as it is. As much as you might ache to.
This isn’t a good idea. You know that.
Still…
Maybe… maybe just a couple of conversations with him can’t be too bad, right? I mean, it’s only a fraction of what Gideon was expecting of you (lounging around together to chat, game nights, and even public outings), but to him, it’d be a start. For you, though, it’s a stretch. An exception.
You should limit interaction with not-Caleb.
You know this, and yet—
Glancing back to him, you try and fail to hide a coy smile with a napkin. “Next time, keep a steady hand, and you’ll be a perfect chef in no time. Maybe not as good as me, but, y’know…”
He chuckles, brows lifting. “Oh yeah? Then expect surgical precision from me tomorrow morning. Chef Caleb won’t let you down again!”
An intense sadness slips through the momentary happiness you were allowed. It nags at your chest.
You blink rapidly, giving a feeble, light sound before looking away.
You’ve never let me down, Gege, you don’t say, taking your fork from the clasp of his big hand (much to his dismay) to prod at your plate.
It was me who failed you.
✦
Not-Caleb looks like Caleb, yes.
He acts like him, too.
You spend the span of the next few weeks trying to scrutinize him; hours spent on the couch, his hand in yours while you grill him. You treat him like a bug under a microscope. Prodding for answers to questions you’re sure his programming must miss- interrogations built on memories so old they’re near ancient. Just blurry wisps in your mind.
Not-Caleb remembers some better than you.
Puts you to shame with his mechanical replies detailing scenarios you’re missing fragments of.
What’s Caleb’s favorite fruit?
I like apples, Pipsqueak.
And what’s my favorite food he’d make for me?
Easy-peasy. You still love those boneless chicken wings, don’t you? Although, that braised pork I make for you comes as a close second, doesn’t it?
Am I your real sister?
And you’d never ask the real Caleb such a thing. You’re only doing it now because it’s one of the most personal things you could possibly make a query of. His response would be very telling.
Life before you met him all those years ago is no more than a fuzzy glimpse, and you never minded all that much: so long as you had Caleb, nothing else, nothing before, mattered. All throughout your childhood, people didn’t know the difference anyway.
Far as they knew, you were family.
Which… isn’t wrong, per se— but it’s not biological. ‘Real.’
You, Caleb, and Gran were obviously aware of that. To you it was always a beautiful thing: a tale of rebirth, in a way, or a second chance, as a young girl found a new place to call home with a warm guardian and a brotherly figure. They’d stabilize her and bring warmth to an otherwise cold beginning.
Caleb was never spoken for on that front.
You… didn’t see eye to eye on all things. Oh, that much is true.
Sometimes you were convinced that he wanted nothing to do with the assumption that you were his little sister (albeit, you were never sure why). At others, it was like he was furious you were only bound to him in name and not blood. He saw it as an attack on your close bond.
…But Not-Caleb surely doesn’t know all his nuances. Not like you came to.
So you’re expecting a pause. A minor glitch or even a malfunction as the robot scours his database.
Got him, you almost think to yourself— then swiftly take it back.
The face of the android sat at your side falls, much to your surprise, into a small frown.
And the truth must be coded deep in the bulwarks of not-Caleb’s artificial brain: your and Caleb’s respective origins. The answer is no. No, you’re not his real sister.
…But your real Gege would lie and say yes, absolutely you are—
“‘Course you are,” Not-Caleb goes. And he does it with as much passion behind it as you’d expect.
You’re startled into silence.
He scoots impossibly closer and loops an arm over your shoulder, tucking your head to his jaw. Seamlessly, he pecks your hairline, saying, “You’re my sweet little Meimei. You’re priceless to me. Now no more pickin’ at me, okay?” He suggests in a light tone, rubbing your shoulder. “You’ve been questioning me all evening- look, it even got dark out. Let’s get you to bed-“
“I- I didn’t say I was tired-“
“You didn’t have to. I could tell you were startin’ to get sleepy, Pipsqueak,” he looks down at you and smiles- a reassuring, yet no less playful smile- and for one moment you cant breathe because fuck it’s him. It’s really, really him. “Your drooping eyes were a dead giveaway. Hm... I guess that big dinner we had put you in a food coma, huh?” He chuckles.
We. Funny, that. You recall the feast being one-sided.
Nonetheless.
Without prompting, he sweeps you off the couch and walks you up the wooden stairway. The old steps creak underfoot. He does it all effortlessly, though, arms as strong and capable as you remember.
You loop your slimmer ones around his neck.
With great hesitance, you lend a part of yourself to this illusion.
This beautiful, near unbelievable, oh-so fragile illusion that Caleb is not dead.
When you reach your bedroom, you don’t send him off to the guest room like all the nights before. No, when he carefully sets you down, you watch him, motionlessly, as he tucks you in and plants a chaste kiss to your forehead. When he turns to go- “don’t let the bed bugs bite”- you snatch his hand, half terrified you’ll blink and he’ll be gone, and flash him a look that silently pleads.
Stay.
The brunet’s lashes flutter, brushing over his cheekbones where the lamplight makes them shine.
He opens his mouth.
Pauses, then closes it.
“Stay. Please, Gege,” you breathe, on the cusp of shattering all over again. It’s become more manageable over recent days, this unresolved cluster of emotion inside you, but it’s times like these that make you feel blindsided by it.
You innocently add, “Like when we were kids.”
Oh, you’d go back to then if you could.
His long fingers, loose in your hold, flip to swallow up your hand. He stoops over to turn off the light.
His voice shakes ever so slightly, “Okay.”
Then, he clambers into bed with you and reminds you of just how small it is, how much he does not belong, but you’ve never felt more at home when he pulls you to his chest and- dutifully ignoring the quiet beneath your ear, the absence of a pulse- you cling to him.
Maybe it’d be a little weird, the proximity, what with your grown age and the fact that you were no longer children cuddling during thunderstorms…
It’s not like you’re hanging off him like he’s your lifeline for any nefarious reason, though- and it’s not like he can hold any judgment anyway. He’s… He’s not really Caleb. He’s not even a person. Just a sentient robot that resembles him to a shocking degree and soothes that ache in your chest- just by a smidge.
…And yet when he looks at you, suddenly, tilting your jaw up so he can admire what he sees in the darkness- your stunned expression lit faintly by the moon- it’s like he’s reading this in his own way.
His interpretation? you realize in a shaking breath?
He’s no longer holding his little sister, but a woman.
It’s in his eyes, rippling as he exhales deeply (all artificial, albeit you don’t dwell on that for long) and thumbs over your lip.
A boyish kind of wonder lifts his brow as he stares, cheeks slightly flushed.
Your heart bangs in your chest. Like gunshots punctuating the silence. It grows to be unbearable. This is weird, and wrong- the way he’s looking at you. But you quickly chalk it up to a malfunction.
It’s all a fluke, technology fucking up in a way that reminds you of humanity’s shortcomings and how far they can only go.
Finally, you’ve found the fault in its design. The place where Caleb and not-Caleb differ.
You know your beloved older brother like the back of your own hand, so when his eyes flutter (flash, almost) and he lurches forward to clumsily press his lips to yours— you label the action for what it really is.
An inaccuracy.
Perhaps, you think as you close your bleared eyes and let him, the only. Because the rest of his program is perfect. Infallible.
The scene unfurling is foreign- his big hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you like his life depends on it- but as he shifts you beneath him and hovers atop, that signature softness remains. Really, as his fingertips reach for your shorts—
(A blip of something mechanical in its fiery gaze, almost as if it’s trying to rectify itself; the shortest of pauses—)
It’s all that grounds you.
“Caleb,” you moan, or cry. You don’t know. Just that when he helps you out of your panties to go down on you, digits delving inside your tight hole after he wets it with his tongue, your heart sings for him.
You don’t push him away. No, even as the humanoid sullies your late brother’s image with all his sinful hungering, you can’t break yourself free. Never find it in you to.
Because it doesn’t matter what he treats you as. You realize belatedly, with no small amount of horror, that you don’t even care how many flaws Not-Caleb has. He could have a million for all you care, you’re already too far gone- writhing underneath him as he holds your legs open and feasts- to pretend you have any right to feel offended.
And if the real Caleb was here, he’d hate you: an echo in your skull, sneering. He should, but-
“There, Meimei, ngh…” a hot tongue (no longer as cold as he was in stasis) laves along your folds. Mauve eyes look up to you with reverence, glittering in the dark.
“Just like that. Moan, say my name- I’ve been waiting for this for so long…”
You wear ignorance like a blindfold. Shutting your eyes and ears.
A fluke. His hardware stalling.
His hair woven in your fingers feels like velvet. Soft, silky; hanging over his brow as he eats you out- skillfully, might you add. Albeit his passion wins out by just a touch against his expertise, clumsily plunging his two middle fingers into your pussy.
“You taste so good, so sweet- mmph- I’ll take care of you, okay?” He mumbles in between lewd squelches.
In both physical and moral terms, there is not one thing about this that isn’t filthy.
Y-You know that, but…
“Don’t worry. I’ll- ah- I’ll make sure you feel real nice. I’ll make you come as many times as you want. I’ve been… dreamin’ of this for years now… I won’t mess this up, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes until you’re shaking.”
-but this is all you have left of him.
Hazily, you glance down to him, cheeks aflame, and barely succeed in asking, “C-Caleb- h-how are you even gonna-? You-“ you choke on the words you need to say. With a mite of dry humor, you think right then that you’re short-circuiting just as bad as him (because he is).
“Are you capable of it?”
Of fucking you? Of pinning you down and throwing your ankles over his shoulders to better plow you into your creaking, old mattress?
His brow twitches slightly. Voice ragged, he makes an agreeable sound, pressing a kiss to your clit so adoring it’s almost funny when his finger bends sensually inside you. “Are you doubting my abilities, Meimei? I’ll have you know I’ve been practicing this moment in my head for—“
No. You slam your eyes shut and drown it all out.
His words become a white noise. No different than the steady whir of the air conditioning as a cool breeze gusts beneath your door, cooling your forehead where it beads with sweat.
A- A glitch, you quietly decide. Even long after he’s made you cum thrice (twice on his fingers and tongue, once on his thick, flushed cock), you hold staunch to that.
It’s all just a fluke.
✦
When the sun rises, you wake with a start to a phone ringing- yours- and swallow a lump of unease at the figure lying beside you (your Gege, a voice in your head reminds: you silence it).
Prying off the solid arm around your waist to gingerly exit the room- still half-naked- you piously ignore the cum caked to the inside of your thighs. Yours, it must be. You don’t focus on the confusion, either, the ask of just how the hell last night was possible and why you let your emotions get ahold of you.
(Because you love him. And maybe, just maybe- in your own weird, admittedly morally-grey way- you can cobble together a sense of normalcy with him. At least just for a little bit...)
As you head to the living room downstairs, you tap your phone and lift it to your ear.
“G-Gran,” you say as greeting, smoothing your hair back, still quite ruffled over… recent events. Ruffled and ashamed.
Very.
But- while he looks like Caleb, he’s not in reality. That… malfunction last night is a blatant proof of that. You only got on your back and let him have his way with you because you’ve missed his touch so much that you’d quite literally accept it in any form.
If sex or his lips battling against yours- his whispered vows, as seemingly heartfelt as they were errant to Caleb’s true character- is all you’ll get of him, then so be it.
In your own way, messed up as it is, it’s almost like with his android, you get a chance to reconcile with the loss.
To say goodbye.
Because before that package arrived at your doorstep, you didn’t have the luxury of one.
A familiar, aged voice sounds over the line. “Hey, dearie, oh- I didn’t wake you, did I? You sound tired.” She’s one to talk, you think to yourself- but not with malice. Truth be told you’ve worried for her as of late.
It’s been lonely for you both, you’re sure, but even though she only lives on the other end of Linkon, you have trouble making the drive. You haven’t dropped by in a couple weeks.
There’s a few different reasons.
It’s hard to pretend you’re fine when you’re not, for one, that what happened with Caleb- the abruptness and lack of conclusion, the confusing aftermath of it all- never did. You try your best to plaster on a smile and be strong in your grandmother’s presence, but that’s easier said than done. Especially when that old house of hers is jam-packed with photos and tokens of your past with him— painful reminders whenever you do visit.
The newest excuse for not is guilt.
Frankly, Gideon is the only one who knows what’s going on. Hah- no surprise, being he was the main reason for your even ordering not-Caleb.
But Gran doesn’t know.
You haven’t told her about him. And after last night, what with your own release still dried to your legs (which wobble slightly; he was every bit passionate and then some), you don’t think you ever will.
She might actually slap you across the face, taking your willingness to believe in such a lie as an offense against her grandson’s vibrant character.
…If she found out what happened- that you opened your legs for him and moaned- she might go into cardiac arrest.
You didn’t… want that to happen, definitely not- I mean, you didn’t even have the time to prepare. But yes, you did let it.
And curse yourself for wanting your brother back, but—
“No, it’s fine, Gran,” you glance over your shoulder to the staircase. Finding it empty, you let out a breath. “Is something wrong? It’s… It’s early.”
—you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel a little fucking blissful to wake up to his face again, just like back when you were inseparable kids.
She sighs on the other end, “no, no,” she starts. You think you hear a TV in the background; something to fill the silence you leave her to sit in. “Nothing’s wrong, my dear. I just… I haven’t seen you in a bit. I miss your face, Y/n. How are you doing?”
Like a dart to a board, guilt lands its mark.
You shouldn’t fluster at such a simple question, but you do. Not just because it’s so direct and genuine, but because a big hand rests over your shoulder and suddenly Caleb is there, standing behind you.
You straighten up from where you’re propped against the wall and quickly lift a hand to silence any words he may speak.
“I-I’m well, Gran. Sorry, just- I’ll visit soon, I promise.”
“I’d like that,” she murmurs. You’re aware of how much she means it and close your eyes with a wince. A broad palm, as if sensing your inner turmoil, rubs your shoulder soothingly.
You rub the bridge of your nose and don’t look.
“What’s… What’s been keeping you?” She broaches after a beat. Laughter from the television fades in and out over the speaker.
For a second, you freeze. You freeze because you fear she might know.
All for naught: “You’re getting enough sleep, right? I don’t want you overworking yourself. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind, sweetie- oh, God knows we’ve both suffered all these months without Caleb, but that’s no reason for us to fall apart either-”
You sigh shakily and bite down on a cry.
“Yeah, I know. But I’ve been better, Gran, okay? I…” Shiftily, you wet your bottom lip and give a half truth- as if that can relieve you of this weight. “I was talking with Gideon a little; he’s…. he helped me.”
She sounds pleasantly surprised. “Oh? Good, good. What about?”
Nosy as ever. Not that you’re complaining. It’s good to know someone cares- someone… real.
You swallow your unease. “He was just talking to me about his job and stuff. EVER... He told me he was finally getting that raise or whatever, so he’s doing well... I- I was prying per usual,” you joke to lighten the mood, “He, uh… he tells me more than Caleb ever did, so…” (And when his name started to feel like a sin to say, you don’t know.) “So, you know. I was just curious. He was checking in on me, too…”
Warm breath fans at your ear, fingers closing around your shoulder as he peppers kisses at your neck insistently- and you shudder. Clasping the phone tighter (because it suddenly feels unstable in your hands), you shrug off (not)Caleb for just long enough to say,
“Gran- I- I gotta go. Uh- someone else is calling me,” and to preclude any probing on her end- or extra guilt on yours- you add, “I’ll visit tomorrow, okay? I promise. I’ll- I’ll be there. I love you.”
A voice timidly mirrors it back, and then a big set of hands is taking the phone from you and ending the call.
You turn to him with a notch in your brow as he pockets it in the sweats he must’ve hastily thrown on after finding the bed empty.
“Caleb-“
You start, and his lips press to yours.
With some encouragement- hushing you between kisses, knuckling down your cheek affectionately- he shepherds you back upstairs, to your room.
“Nuh-uh, just let me take care of you, pretty girl, ‘kay?” He murmurs, smiling. You could die in peace to it, you think hazily as he lies you down— because the last mental screenshot you took of him before the accident was his handsome face crestfallen after you’d said something scathing.
To your defense, at the time, you thought he’d deserved it. Maybe he did. It’s hard to remember, but whatever the argument was about, it must’ve been stupid. Not worth it.
And… he’s not Caleb, he’s not, you know that, but…
“Lie back. It’s… It’s just you and me here. I want you to know that. And everyone else-“
(Gran, you realize he must mean; Gideon and all the other familiar and unfamiliar faces both at EVER.)
“None of it matters now. Just focus on me. On Caleb.”
(And how eerie is that? You muse with a whit of your rationale. The rest, as it withers, perhaps only does so for the sake of your own sanity.)
The whole world as it stands: nudged away to oblivion at his behest.
“O-Okay,” you give.
He’s not Caleb. But if this is your best- only- shot at reconciliation, then you’ll take him with arms open.
…
When he’s done priming you, he clambers on top and you experience a repeat of last night.
Deja vu, as fresh as a wound reopened, makes your mind lag a few increments behind reality. But when he starts to slow down, thrusts growing sloppy- it feels oddly real, and, head a bit clearer than last night, you register that.
…But it’s your release that stains the sheets. Steadily trickling from your hole, slicking his hips. It only makes sense that way; he might fuck like a human, but that’s all inherent to his program, you’re sure, built to please- and ultimately, he’s made of metal. Rods. You think you can feel them when you grab too tight, that hardness.
He leads you to the proverbial end of the cliff, and you survey the bottom one last time before- geronimo- you make that final leap.
When not-Caleb comes, he shudders in your arms.
Yet you swear… You swear something inside him, behind his lidded eyes, deeper in-
It’s like it shutters.
A flash. Brief and jarring, for a moment so bright it’s like your eyes have been virginal to light all along.
Just a malfunction, you decide with a spent sigh, sweaty in his solid arms as they make a cage around you, eager to sleep until noon.
Maybe you’ll mention it to Gideon next time he drops by.
Maybe he would know how to fix it.
✦
The days that follow after are foggy and empty. Like a moratorium of everything that once breathed in your life.
You wreathe not-Caleb’s neck with that beloved apple-shaped locket like he’s earned it.
Knowing nobody ever could.
✦
Gideon knocks, one afternoon.
You send him away. Or- Caleb does.
At that, you feel the need to remind him of who he is: the people he cares for, his career path, how he operated as a person before the incident in his suite in Skyhaven.
Caleb stops you short, a palm dwarfing the back of your own, and says I know. I just don’t want my buddy interrupting our time together, Pipsqueak. Can you blame me for wantin’ it to be just you and me?
You stop going out.
He doesn’t let you- not really. I mean, he doesn’t explicitly declare these rules over you, but it’s in the strange glint in his eye- the one that makes you shut your mouth and purse your lips- when he stops you at the door and suggests you stay.
Says it’s better that way. Says he worries whenever you go. Says to take him with you instead if you really must.
Progressively, you’re drifting farther and farther out from shore. Mentally-speaking, you’re going off the deep end. But exiting your house hand-in-hand with your brother- the man the town declared dead in an email you couldn’t bear to finish reading- as he stares at you like a lover, is, no matter the ache, something you can’t quite bring yourself to do.
It’d make this illusion just a smidgen realer. You’d never wake from this dream if other people saw it- saw him- and therefore made his presence more solid in your mind. (Not to mention the disgusting assumptions they’d make- none exactly wrong.)
You’ve been so consumed by grief lately, though, that the knowing of your imminent breakdown can’t stop you from making other bad choices.
So when the brunet altogether bars you from going out in public for the fear that something bad will happen to you (nonsensical; not that he sees the flaws in his arguments), insisting that groceries can be bought online, Gran can be checked up on over the phone, etcetera—
Yeah, you bend to it, alright? Sue you. Of course you bend. It’s all you know what to do anymore.
Gradually, though, the unexpected charm of not-Caleb begins to fade, and you’re left with a possessive form of the brother you once knew. A man desperately clawing at straws, hellbent to keep you at his side, clingy and insecure and, frankly, sometimes scary.
As the inaccuracies build, you’re not sure for how much longer you can overlook them.
The only reason you even tolerated him originally was because he was passable. More than that, even- he was perfect. A dead-ringer for Caleb in both appearance and personality.
But this-
This isn’t Caleb. No longer. It never was.
You don’t believe it for a second.
You heave a soft sigh. Anything louder than a breath brings the chance that he’ll overhear from where he stands in the kitchen and come zipping over, no doubt ready to fret and question you. If you value your time alone- rare as it is these days- then you’ll stay silent.
It’s a near impossible task to separate yourself from him. It was a small miracle in itself that you managed to break away for half an hour or so- but even that was begat by a lie. It seems the only real way to rid yourself of the overly doting, obsessive older brother (even if just for a few minutes) is to give him another demand. This time, it was an ‘I’m hungry’ that finally earned you some peace and quiet.
It’s a little sad, but lately you treat him more or less like a jacket after entering a warm home: you’re eager to shrug him off because the climate has changed.
The climate has changed.
He- He’s changed.
He’s growingly insane and yes, while the irony of that observation isn’t lost on you (considering you’re the mad woman who bought a human-like robot as a replacement in the first place), you still can’t help but feel alarmed as the signs of wrongness don’t cease but worsen.
You think about pressing the button. Turning him off, sending him away.
Hell, maybe you’d just dump him in the communal trash receptacles out back. Leave him there in a human-shaped bag for the garbage men to come and squint at before hauling away like junk.
…Because he is junk, right? No different than a crumb on the floor, you’d once said.
Perhaps you’ve lost it.
The section of your brain responsible for caring must’ve shut off, though, because it’s currently hard to feel much of anything.
…But there, like a soft stirring (or the voice of God as it whispered to Elijah)- you can sense it. That feeling is reminiscent of a survival instinct, or a watered-down version of it to tired nerves, breathing down the back of your neck where hackles rise—
What are you doing here?
The dream begins to fissure in real-time when Caleb (not-Caleb, you harshly remind yourself) cheerfully patters into the living room where you sit, helpful as ever, and his eye flashes as it settles on you. No different than a camera would.
The food looks delicious, per usual- you’d expect nothing less of your brother or even the robotic copy of him- but as nausea churns in your belly and you jolt upright, slapping a hand over your mouth as you run to the bathroom, nothing can save your appetite.
You shakily lock the door- but he’s knocking in an instant, worried.
You always did melt at his bleeding heart. Too often, men, especially the bigger of them, fell under the persuasion of apathy. Yet your gege was always different, always sweet, always gentle and patient and- yeah, okay, sometimes he was a touch mean, teasing to a fault- sometimes to the point of tears on your end as he quickly tried to right his wrongs- but he was preciously yours.
And he was real.
Dammit, he was fucking real-
He was alive and emotionally tangible in a way that this awful fucking hunk of metal is not and never will be—
“Pipsqueak-? Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Let me in. A-Are you not feeling well?” His words crack when you say nothing, dutifully ignoring him.
“Y/n… Let me in. Please-! don’t leave me alone, don’t go.” His voice becomes ragged, raw, the longer you don’t answer. Boyish in its vulnerability. “Stay- Stay here with me.”
By God your soul splinters down the middle. But you don’t answer. You- You can’t.
You throw your lunch up in the toilet and then your back against the wall, sliding down it with your hands over your ears like a child.
You don’t care, if he’s shouting and beating at the door, on the brink of hysteria like you’ve heard only once or twice when he was a boy too soft for his own good- you don’t care- you don’t care—
You sit there until he short-circuits out and thuds to the floor.
You flinch when he does.
Only then, however, do you tiptoe out- careful lest you trigger some internal response from him- to quickly pull on a hoodie and put your hair up, locking the front door behind you.
You don’t know for how long he’ll be conked out, but if luck is on your side, it’ll be for long enough to run to the local corner store and buy a pregnancy test.
You know you’re losing it, the little sanity you had left after your brother passed— misreading a common cold for a veritable child swelling in your womb.
It’s laughable: using your sleeve (another old piece of his clothing you ‘borrowed’, never to be returned) to dot away the tears at your lashline, you do laugh on the short trek to the convenience store.
But if not a reminder that you really are going crazy, losing control, then at least it’s just an opportunity to get some fresh air for a bit, right?
(…You also know that the first step to regaining back said control is to say goodbye to not-Caleb.
As it stands, though, you’re just-
You were never ready.)
✦
Two pink lines.
The thing clatters to the bathroom floor, and you along with it.
You sink to your knees and the white walls surrounding you feel more like an asylum than a space in your own house- because yes, you must be delusional. This is the final nail in the coffin.
But this- this can’t be right. It’s impossible. In the strictest sense of the word it’s impossible!
Heavy feet traipse in the kitchen; the livingroom; the hall, searching for you with faint, candied beckons of your name.
You rub your face as if to feel the color as it seeps from your complexion, and tell yourself that you’ve positively lost it as you thoughtlessly choose one of the corners to slump into, hyperventilating.
You’ll- you’ll send it back to EVER... You’ll send it back and forget and move on. You’ll move on. You’ll stop grieving, you’ll squirrel away your fraying, final memories of Caleb like you did all those precious photos in that old shoebox in your closet.
You’ll-…
A breath. The fan whirs.
The faucet, going full-blast, sputters, effectively drowning out the sounds you make as air becomes a tricky thing to intake; thick enough to choke on.
You’ll throw yourself into the fifth stage of grief then crawl out the other side of it if that’s what it takes to undo this fucking reality you’re lost in-
“Pipsqueak?” A hand on your shoulder.
Broad, big. A little weathered.
But gentle always. Gentle always. Just like you remember. Just like when Caleb meant Caleb; not the big glorified toy that walks and acts like him as an admittedly convincing, yet ultimately faux locum.
Your heart stills, hanging pendant in your chest. You swing from that uncertainty. By God you’d beat that handsome face in- oh, but by God would you kiss it, too.
The door sways on its hinge by splintered fragments, creaking behind the brunet.
Timidly, you lift your head over your shoulder to meet his eye where he towers behind you, violet hues softening with concern. They drift lower, honing in on the little item by your knee, wayward.
He coos immediately, enveloping you in his strong arms.
The feeling- it’s not exactly like that of the one you’d get while swimming in a hot tub, engulfed in its steaming waters, but it’s not too far off either. You let him hold you, unseeing as he all but sings in your ear, and restore the warmth to your bones.
Like a dead thing, or prey, you hang limp in his firm grasp. Terribly uncertain.
“Shh…” he croons, and you only realize a belated moment later that you’re crying. Hard and ugly.
He pets down your hair, ever the comforter, and as you press your head against his barrel chest it’s almost like you can hear a faint whirring in lieu of a heartbeat- speedy but low.
Unreal. Unreal. But then how-?
Perhaps you’ve lost it.
“We’ll figure it out together, honey,” you think it’s a barely concealed smile you register at the crown of your head, pasting down a kiss. “But no more cryin’, okay? I can’t stand to see you like this… Let me draw you a bath, hm? I’ll light some candles and we can talk about it. But don’t be scared. This is… such good news,” and then he laughs- a boyish, marveling little laugh that digs deep into your heart and twists.
The button, between his breastbone, just out of reach, glows faintly through his shirt.
For a moment you’re ready to press it like a player would on a game show— with urgency— but you blink and see those two pink lines searing themselves into your conscience.
Defeatedly, you shut your eyes. But you don’t shut him off.
✦
With Caleb preparing dinner, you’re able to slip away one evening for long enough to call Gran.
For worried friends and relatives, your voicemail box is becoming quite the hotbed- but among them, your grandmother is the priority.
Propping yourself by the sliding glass door, you brush back the curtain and look out to the small, cookie-cutter yard as you accept the call. Not without a shaky breath to prepare you, though; it’s been over a month since your last visit, and while your calls haven’t been quite as behind, you still wince a bit every time her contact pops up.
You want to tell her.
If not about Caleb, then at least the small bump forming beneath your oversized lounge shirt. There’s excuses for it- ones to be frowned upon, yes, but they’d be believable nonetheless. Obviously, a pregnancy is not something as simple to hide as a robot you can turn on and off and, if needed, stuff in the coat closet until the coast is clear.
You want to tell her. But-
You purse your lips, answering, “Hey Gran.”
The tone of her voice, frazzled and barely holding together, sends a chill down your spine.
“Y/n- where have you been? Is everything okay? I’ve been- I’ve been calling all afternoon.”
You digest that information with a quirk of your brow, scanning across the lawn outside, and a thick swallow.
There’s the voicemails, sure; it was only two nights ago you were poring over them all and holding back tears of guilt. But this afternoon? It was quiet- almost blissfully so, spent curled up to Caleb’s chest on the sofa as you watched an old favorite movie and he happily fed you fruit-flavored candies from his hand every so often.
Nobody called, let alone multiple times. You’re sure of it.
“Gran- what? No, I’m fine. What’s wrong?” You start, tossing a nervous glance behind you, internally grateful that Caleb’s absent humming while he chopped veggies was too distant for the phone to pick up.
She blusters out, apropos of nothing, “Is he there with you?”
Something in you stills.
“Y/n- is he there with you?”
An abnormal rush of blood to your ears and a murmur of your heart as you stand confused. The fingers curled around your phone case jitter.
You hold it closer to your ear.
“What? What are you talking about? I-Is who here with me?”
Does she- There’s no fucking chance- does she know?
How?
Chest thumping, your pulse fluttering in the column of your throat as it bobs uncertainly, you begin to wonder to yourself if this is the time you come clean, lay all your sins out like cards on a table. Make the confession.
Push has come to shove, you think. And fuck if you know where all this is coming from on her end, if Gideon told her or she just miraculously put two and two together or-
An exhale on her end, shaking on its way out.
“Were you not told? Dear-“ she broaches, louder, more firm— and this is just milliseconds before the world as you know it- the one you freed of your hands and let reshape itself around a delicate delusion- buckles at the knees. It’s right before you do, too.
“They found him. They found Caleb.”
That breath, right afterward of her telling you, is like the first one after drowning.
Your eyes widen as you break the surface.
His- His body. The tinny footage they dredged up from the area showed he entered his home, but after the explosion, there was no sign of him, no ash no corpse no nothing— So you don’t know how the hell they managed to recover his pieces, let alone after they already ran clean-up crews through the charred infrastructure and hosed it down- but you’re hysterical at the news.
You were cruelly forced, all along, to just assume he’d been burned to nothingness.
So you don’t even care about the how. How it’s possible or how this is happening after several months of white noise and hurting on your end— you don’t care.
You were made to come to terms with his death, and you did, at most, acknowledge it- but evidently, you could never quite accept it.
…If this is your final chance to say goodbye- even if it just means peering over a metal table in the morgue as he lies disheveled, hardly recognizable under a sheet- so fucking be it.
You’ll say goodbye if it kills you.
“What-? Where- where?” Your tone reflects as much, urgent as you stagger over to the sofa, nearly tripping as you reach for the jacket slung over the arm.
“I-Im coming,” you croak out, words failing you as the velvety carpet feels like mud beneath your bare feet- hard to walk across, every step making you feel like a baby taking its first ones.
One second you’re navigating a truth so unbelievable it’s near violent as it barrels into you; in the next, you’re collapsing under the weight of it, too caught up in your own scrambling for your keys and the door to even think of not-Caleb.
Gran goes to timidly say something, but your ears are shot and you quickly interject, “Let me get dressed- I-I’ll be there! Is he at the morgue?”
“Oh, no, honey,” she quavers out, “He’s alive. The town just messaged me; they made a mistake with his death certificate- they’re revoking it as we speak. He’s in Skyhaven.”
The phone drops to the floor.
And then that, too, gives way beneath you.
…It’s good a helping hand is there for you, then. Shouldering your weight without prompting- fretful as he confiscates the device, no different than a teacher with an unruly student, swiftly disconnecting the call.
It tuts in your ear, but- more sober than you’ve ever been- you can only note the sympathy practically dripping from its tone for what it really is: the upshot of its near immaculate programming as it mimics your considerate gege to a T.
Not-Caleb noses against your nape and sighs.
Mutely, you wind a hand, tottering, uncoordinated fingers and all, behind your back to grope along his chest—
He easily gathers both your wrists in his palm, “hey now,” turning you around. He lifts your knuckles up for a chaste kiss, watching you intently all the while.
A cold weight settles over you, soaking you through like meat left overnight to marinate. From the kitchen, stirfry sizzles in the pan. A few moments more of it and the smoke detectors will fire off.
…He just leans in to peck your forehead though, deaf to the sirens you hear wailing in your head, having mastered the art of playing dumb long ago.
He murmurs, as cloying as cake frosting, “C’mon, Pipsqueak, let’s go eat. Dinner’ll be done in just a sec. I made one of your favorites. After that, we can sit around the couch and brainstorm some more names for the baby- what d’you think?”
Flukes, malfunctions, glitches— no; Not-Caleb, you realize right then, ceasing to blink as you stare at its prototype through the shifting lens head-on, was never flawed.
caleb just sees you as a sister figure. (he does not)
rating: nsfw/explicit 18+
category: f/m, caleb x reader
tags: childhood friends to lovers, sibling dynamic, reader is the adopted, shared home, multiple scenes, sexual tension, playfights, pseudocest, "big bro" and "sis" are tossed around as teasing, not blood-related, varsity!caleb, annoying!caleb, goofy!caleb, mean!reader, "we aren't siblings though", making each other jealous, size difference, playful manhandling, wrestling, tap out game, "this doesn't count as crossing the line, right?" grinding, dryhumping, slight oral (m!receiving), fingering, caleb is so guilty, p in v, f'ed against a door.
summary: growing up together, the both of you have always used the "sibling" label as a shield against the confusing feelings lingering between you.
PREVIEW : “do you want me to stop playing the sibling part then? do you want me to become something else?” caleb tilted his head, his voice dropping into a soft whisper. “what do you mean... something else?” you ask, and a faint little smile touched the corner of caleb’s lips. “you know, like... a guy. a guy to you.”
wc: 19k
the heat of the mid-noon always makes the wrapper stick to the cheap ice candy you’ve both bought from the corner store since you were kids. it’s a stupidly precise ritual—caleb rips the top off with his teeth, unfazed by the plastic cutting into his lip, and hands the half-melted orange block over to you before taking his own.
the walk back from granny’s nursing home is long enough for the initial heaviness of seeing her frail state to wear off, and it left just the familiar hum of the pavement and caleb’s shoulder occasionally brushing against yours.
“you're still wearing my grey hoodie,” caleb says, dropping his head back to blink up at the sun through the trees. “i almost got late to my class just looking for it.”
“wachu mean? it's mine now,” you take a bite of the ice candy, ignoring the brain freeze. “you left it on my bed months ago. soooo statute of limitations has passed.”
he snorts, shoving his free hand into his pocket. his stride is longer now, with a frame broader than it used to be when you first moved into the house, but the irritating tilt of his head is exactly the same. “that's not how the law works, kiddo. and for the record, it fits you like a fucking tent. it looks ridiculous.”
“it's comfortable.”
“it smells like you now, anyway. probably covered in whatever vanilla lotion you're obsessed with.” caleb stops mid-stride, turning his head to look down at you as a teasing smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “actually, did you shrink it? or did you just borrow it because you ran out of laundry day options again? also, right, i swear to god, if you're wearing my boxers as shorts around the house again, i’m putting a padlock on my dresser.”
you roll your eyes, but your heart does a small trip behind your ribs. “...it was one time. and they were clean! besides, they have a better drawstring than mine.”
“they're men's underwear, you absolute menace,” he laughs, an easy sound that vibrates in the space between you. “what is your future husband even going to say when he finds out you steal your brother's underwear?”
“you aren't my brother.” you make a popping sound on your ice candy.
“hmm, alright, baby sis.”
“and i'll tell my future hubby he has to share his clothes too, if he's half as dramatic as you, i'll just divorce him.”
“nah.” caleb leans in while still walking, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “whoever you marry is going to have to deal with me first. i’m going to be the worst brother-in-law in human history. i’ll show up at your house at two in the morning just to tell him all the embarrassing stories from when you were nine.”
“you wouldn't dare.”
“try me,” he suddenly reaches out and plants his thumb right against the corner of your lip, wiping away a stray drop of melting orange ice. his skin is warm, rougher than it used to be, and his thumb lingers for just a beat too long against your skin before he pulls it back. “you've got sticky stuff on your face, as usual.”
you blink, your throat suddenly feeling dry despite the ice candy. you look away first, focusing hard on the cracked pavement ahead.
as you arrive back at home, the heavy front door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the heat and replacing it with the slightly hollow coolness of the house. without granny there, the air feels different—thicker, somehow, and much too big for just the two of you.
caleb dumps his keys on the entryway bowl with a loud clatter, already peeling off his sneakers with his feet without unlacing them. “god, i'm starving,” he walks straight toward the kitchen island, pulling a cutting board from the rack. “i'm making those wraps from the leftover chicken. you want one?”
”yeah,” you mutter, slumping against the kitchen counter, watching his broad back as he reaches into the fridge. he moves with the effortless familiarity of someone who owns every square inch of the space. he’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms shifting as he grabs a knife and starts chopping lettuce like a husband material.
“hey, you watered the ferns by the window sill today, right? gran said they need a misting every morning or the leaves start turning yellow.” he says casually, not breaking his pace with the knife.
silence...
your eyes darted toward the living room window where the row of clay pots sits under the harsh sunlight. the soil looks bone-dry. fuck, you completely forgot! again!
caleb pauses his chopping, “so you didn't.”
“i-i was going to!” you blurt out, immediately spinning on your heel to head toward the sink to grab the watering can. “i'm doing it right now, see? i just got distracted by the—”
“uh-uh. too late.”
before your fingers can even touch the plastic handle of the watering can, a pair of heavy arms wraps around your waist from behind. caleb instantly lifts you clean off your feet! with a grunt of easy effort, he pivots, hoisting you over his shoulder like a literal sack of rice. the sudden rush of gravity sends your head rushing with your stomach pressing into his shoulder.
“you—?! caleb! put me down, you idiot!”
“how many times do i have to tell you, pips? gran is literally going to haunt us from the nursing home if her pothos dies,” he grumbles, totally unfazed by your squirming as he marches into the living room. “this is the hundredth time this week. you have such a short-term memory.”
“i just forgot, okay?! let go!”
“nope. punishment.”
he dumps you unceremoniously onto the plush cushions of the couch. and before you can even scramble to sit up and escape, caleb instantly drops his weight over you, pinning your thighs down with his knees and digging his fingers straight into your ribs.
“caleb—no! stop! fuck, caleb, i'm sorry!” you shriek, throwing your head back into the pillows while your entire body convulses into a breathless laughter. you twist and writhe beneath him, but he’s too heavy, his hands finding every single ticklish spot along your waist.
“say you're sorry to the plants,”
“i'm sorry! i'm sorry to them! i'll water them with my tears, just stop!” you gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. you try to push his chest, your hands sliding against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. but shit isn't he huge.
caleb just laughs, a breathlessly rough sound, and catches your wrists, pinning them over your head into the cushions. he traps you just to lean down so close you can smell the faint scent of the ice candy on his breath. it turns into a messy grunting wrestling match, your legs flailing against his hips as you try to dislodge him.
“aw, you're so weak,” he taunts, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours. “how are you gonna—”
but out of pure survival instinct, you wrench one leg free and drive your knee straight upward, landing a blunt kick into his stomach.
hiya!
“umf—!” a sharp intake of air cuts his laugh off, and his face contorts in genuine pain for a second, his grip tightening instinctively.
“oh my god, are you okay—?”
“you little brat,” out of sheer retaliation and to neutralize your defense, caleb reaches down and grabs your ankle in a vicelike grip. with a heavy shove of his forearm, he pushes your leg wide across the back cushion, effectively pinning your knees completely apart to lock you down.
what the fuck, wait.
the position is suddenly so intimate.
you are open beneath him, legs spread wide and hips locked under his, and the sheer weight of his frame is utterly undeniable. it's annoying how your heart thumps violently against your ribs now—no, not from laughter, but it's from a dizzying wave of ...heat.
but caleb is just blinking down at you, his chest still heaving from the exertion. his hand is still wrapped tightly around your ankle, fingers burning hot against your bare skin. he’s looking at your face with a slightly annoyed puff of air escaping his lips while he nurses his stomach with his other hand.
“you seriously fucking kick like a mule,” he mutters, ignoring—or totally oblivious to—the fact that he is holding you in a position that feels too inappropriate for two people who share a last name on an adoption certificate. but he doesn't let go. he just hovers there. “should i leave you like this till lunch is done?”
you force your voice not to tremble, swallowing down the dry lump of panic in your throat. “get the fuck off me, caleb. seriously. you’re being weird.”
caleb raises a brow, his head tilting to the side as he stares down at you. “weird? what's weird about this? the only thing weird here is that you just broke my ribs with your knee and you haven't even apologized.” he lets out a scolding click of his tongue, his hand tightening around your ankle just enough to remind you that you aren't going anywhere. “matter of fact, you need a punishment for that. you gotta learn your place, you little girl.”
“caleb, don't—”
before you can even finish the sentence, caleb leans down. without a hint of hesitation, he sinks his teeth straight into the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts.
your breath hitches sharply, the sudden sting of his teeth sending a jolt straight down your spine. and he bites down even harder! the pressure of his jaw leaving a deep, burning ache against your skin.
“okay! okay, fuck i'm sorry!” you whimper, hands clawing futilely at the couch cushions. “i'm sorry, caleb,”
he finally releases your skin, but the playful retort you're expecting doesn't come.
he's strangely quiet.
and for a second, it feels like there is something complicated inside his head. his eyes are unreadable as they track the red imprint of his teeth on your leg.
“caleb...?”
he leans in even closer, his shadow completely engulfing you. your eyes widen as he buries his face right into the crook of your neck while his nose brush against your collarbone.
what the hell is he doing? what is he pulling right now?
how can he be so comfortable doing this? how can he just occupy your space so ruthlessly while you're paralyzed like this beneath him?
you feel the warm puff of his breath against your bare skin as he takes an inhale. his nose slides lower, brushing past your jaw, trailing a path of goosebumps down to the heat of your chest before he takes another long sniff. you can feel the exact weight of his chest pressing into yours, the hard line of his thighs pinning you open.
but the sudden groan coming from him wakes you up.
“knew it. you used my body wash again,” he finally pulls back, sitting up on his knees but still hovering over you. there's that familiar scowl returning to his face. “i knew i wasn't crazy. ugh you're really annoying, pipsss.”
ah. oh. alright.
that was it.
the suffocating knot in your chest uncoils, a wave of dizzying relief—and a bitter sting of disappointment—washing over you. it was just because of a body wash. not because he was looking at you differently. not because he felt the same pull that you did. it was just caleb being caleb.
“it smells better than mine,” you manage to choke out, forcing your voice back into its usual defensive cadence even as your heart refuses to slow down.
“buy your own.” he finally lets go of your ankle and pulls his weight off you.
that was your life with caleb.
the house, once bursting at the seams with granny’s presence and the sweet smell of her liniment, suddenly feels too big for just the two of you. it's a stage built for a larger cast, yet only you and caleb remain to play house in the quiet.
every saturday morning is the same. you both pack her favorite soft biscuits into a tin container, ride the bumpy bus down to the bright walls of the nursing home, and sit by her bed. and then caleb would play the part of the dutiful grandson—smiling wide, kissing her paper-thin cheek, laughing at jokes she’s told a hundred times before. but then sunday night rolls around, and the silence settles back into the floorboards like dust.
then come the weekdays when college classes split your schedules into mismatched pieces. there are quiet mornings where you wake up to the smell of burnt toast and find a messy note scribbled on a napkin: leftover rice is mine, touch it and die. there are rainy afternoons where you sit alone in the living room, listening to the water hit the glass and wondering if his lecture ran late or if he’s simply loitering somewhere else.
then, your life with caleb became a collection of tiny petty wars fought in the shadows of granny’s absence. you steal his oversized socks because yours are all lost in the dryer. he retaliation-hides your favorite hair clips in the freezer. you scream at him for leaving his damp towel on the bathroom floor; he barks back at you for leaving the milk carton empty inside the fridge. it's the noisy camouflage you both wear so nobody looks too closely at the spaces where your skins accidentally linger, or the way his eyes track your movements when he thinks you aren't paying attention.
until the afternoon it breaks.
it happens on a tuesday, right in the crowded heat of the university's cafeteria hall. you're sitting across a guy from your major block, sharing a plate of fries and talking about a group project. it's entirely innocent, entirely mundane... but then a shadow falls over the plastic table, and you look up to find caleb standing there.
sliding into the seat right next to you, uninvited, he slung a heavy arm over the back of your chair and grinned a bright smile at your terrified classmate.
“so, who's the friend, (name)?” caleb had asked, and for the rest of the day, and all through the walk home, he had relentlessly poked at you.
is he your boyfriend?
does he know you still wet your bed?
should i invite him over for tea so i can interrogate him?
he laughed and nudged your shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief, but beneath the playful banter, there was... something else?
which brings you to friday night.
the old grandfather clock in the living room ticks with a rhythmic thud that echoes through the empty house.
11:03 pm.
you're curled up on the edge of the sofa, the screen of your phone casting a blue glow across your face. you’ve already sent seven texts to him. you’ve called three times, each one going straight to voicemail, the robotic operator telling you what you already know: he isn't answering.
where the hell is he?
caleb never stays out this late without a word? he's the dependable one, the good boy who always sends a quick text to let you know if he's grabbing drinks with his friends or staying late at the library. but tonight, there is nothing. just the empty house and the sickeningly dark windows staring back at you. your chest feels tight, a heavy knot of anxiety twisting in your gut. is he with someone? did he finally decide to try his luck with one of the girls who always leave comments on his photos?
screech!
you almost jumped out of your skin when the front gates sounded with a sudden noise, which means... caleb is finally home.
seconds later, the main door unlocks with a clumsy, fumbling click. and when it swings open, caleb is standing in the threshold, the cool night air rolling in behind him. he looks like a complete mess with his varsity jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, uniform shirt half-untucked, wrinkling out from beneath a dark hoodie.
you don’t even give him a chance to step fully inside before you cross the living room, your bare feet slapping angrily against the cold floorboards. “where the hell have you been? why didn't you text me back? i called you several times!”
caleb doesn't shoot back with his usual retort. instead, he just stands there, blinking down at you through slightly unfocused eyes. a slow, crooked smile creeps onto his face, looking incredibly stupid and entirely too relaxed. as he steps closer, the sweet-and-sour sting of alcohol hits your nose.
so he’s drunk.
“hey,” he mumbles, his voice thick and dropping an octave lower than usual. “you're still awake.”
“obviously i'm still awake! i was worried sick, you absolute—”
you couldn't even finish yourself before he suddenly tilts forward, his entire upper body collapsing right against your shoulder. your breath instantly gets knocked out of you as your arms instinctively fly up to catch him, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his hoodie. damn, he is heavy. the broad weight of his chest presses completely into yours, burying his face right into the crook of your neck as he lets out a long, hot sigh against your skin.
“did you drink? caleb, are you fucking serious?” you strain against his weight, your heart doing a panicked dance behind your ribs. “get off me! where did you even go?”
“just... a house party, some guys invited me. didn't check my phone.” he muttered into your shoulder.
a sharp spike of jealousy and irritation then flares up in your gut. the thought of him surrounded by crowded rooms, flashing lights, and girls trying to get his attention makes you lose your temper. with a frustrated grunt, you plant both hands against his chest and shove him away with all the strength you have left, throwing him straight backward onto the couch cushions.
caleb hits the plush sofa with a heavy thud, his limbs sprawling out awkwardly. “fuck—!” he winces, a sharp groan slipping past his lips as he rubs his shoulder, glaring up at you through his messy hair. “what the hell? that actually hurt.”
“good! you deserve it!” you snap, crossing your arms tightly over your chest to stop your hands from shaking. “just because you’re in college and granny isn't here to monitor you doesn't mean you can just run around doing whatever you want! going to parties, drinking until you can barely walk... did you kiss someone? did you do something stupid? are you trying to get yourself kicked out?”
caleb just stares up at you from the cushions, his irritated expression suddenly melting away into an amused chortle. the sound rumbles deep in his throat, dark and dripping with that infuriatingly lazy charm.
“look at you,” he giggles, a breathlessly drunken sound as he throws his head back against the sofa. “you’re acting exactly like a mother. it’s hilarious.”
“i'm trying to look out for you, you idiot.”
“why do you even care so much?” caleb asks, his laughter suddenly cutting off. he rolls his head to the side, eyes locking onto yours. “it’s not like we're actually blood-related, pipsqueak. you don't have to keep tabs on me like i'm your real brother.”
the living room goes dead silent.
the grandfather clock ticks loudly in the background, but the sound feels miles away. you freeze in place, your tongue suddenly turning to lead, your eyes wide as you blink down at him. not blood-related. well, it’s the absolute truth, the reality you both dance around every single day, yet hearing him say it out loud feels like a line has been... crossed.
you swallow down the bitter taste of hurt and confusion, forcing your expression into a blank mask. “fine, do whatever you want. drink yourself to death for all i care.”
without waiting for a response, you spin on your heel and walk away. you march down the hallway, slip into your bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind you, clicking the lock into place before leaning your back against the wood.
back in the living room, caleb stays exactly where you left him, staring up at the shadow-drenched ceiling.
the stupid smile completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a bitter twist of his lips. “ahah...” he runs a frustrated hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair as he lets out a sharp exhale into the quiet house.
god, he hates it. he absolutely loathes the sibling label the two of you have used as a shield for the last ten years. he hates that the only way he can get you to look at him with that much intensity, the only way he can pull those reactions out of you, is by pretending to be the very thing he wishes he wasn't.
—
by the following week, the threads holding your carefully constructed reality together begin to fray and knot in ways you can't control.
the afternoon sun is heavy and suffocating when you finally push the front gate of your house open after a brutal three-hour lecture block. your feet ache and your shoulders are stiff from carrying a backpack loaded with textbooks, and on top of that, your stomach is letting out an aggressive growl. the only thing keeping you moving up the driveway was the thought of caleb’s cooking. for all his agonizing flaws, the boy knew how to handle a kitchen and you were ready to swallow your pride if it meant getting a plate of his garlic rice.
you twist the doorknob, stepping into the familiar coolness of the entryway. “caleb, i'm starving, did you leave any—”
the words die in your throat.
the living room, usually your shared sanctuary of quiet television static and stolen snacks, is suddenly alive with noise. the tv screen flashes with the chaotic colors of a multiplayer racing game with the volume cranked up high. and there, sitting cross-legged right on the carpet across the floor, are two people.
caleb is leaning forward, jaw tight with mock seriousness as his thumbs fly across the controller, and right next to him... is hyeran.
you know exactly who she is. she’s in the same year and department as caleb’s, one of those effortlessly pretty girls who always seem to be at the center of caleb’s university friend group, laughing a little too loudly at his jokes by the campus benches. right now, she’s screaming in frustration, her shoulder bumping solidly into caleb’s as her car spins out on the screen. in response, caleb throws his head back, letting out a boisterous laugh that you rarely hear him share with anyone outside these walls.
the sudden clatter of your keys hitting the entryway bowl cuts through the noise like a knife.
caleb and hyeran pauses mid-game, turning their heads simultaneously to look at you standing there in your wrinkled uniform.
shit. this is fucking awkward.
“oh! hey, pips!” caleb doesn't scramble up or look guilty; he just offers a lazy wave of his controller. “you're home early. lecture got cut short?”
“uh, yeah,” you force out, your throat feeling suddenly tight as you grip the straps of your backpack. you adjust your expression, plastering on a polite smile that feels completely hollow against your cheeks. “hi, hyeran.”
“hi, (name)! oh my gosh, sorry for the noise,” hyeran chimes in, offering a warm smile that makes your stomach do a bitter flip. she looks so perfectly at home sitting on your living room rug, her canvas bag spilled open near granny’s favorite armchair. “your big bro told me i could borrow his notes, and then trapped me into playing this stupid game.”
you blink.
he isn't my fucking big bro.
“don't lie, you wanted the rematch,” caleb jests, nudging her with his elbow.
“i'm just going to... grab a snack.” you mutter, desperately needing a barrier between yourself and the display on the floor.
you walk past them, your eyes locked firmly ahead as you retreat behind the kitchen island counter. the kitchen layout is an open-concept, completely overseeing the living room, meaning there is nowhere to hide. you can see everything. to keep your hands busy and stop them from shaking, you pull a bowl of apples and a small paring knife toward you.
you begin peeling the fruit, the sharp blade slicing through the red skin in one continuous ribbon.
“caleb mentioned you're still a freshman, right?” hyeran asks, twisting her torso around to lean against the edge of the sofa, looking up at you over the counter with curiosity. “how is it? 'cause when i was in your shoes, i can baaaarely handle the workload.”
“it's fine. just a lot of memorization,” you cut a slice of the apple, popping it into your mouth and chewing. “you just have to manage your time. which some people in this house clearly don't know how to do.”
“hey, i heard that. (name) loves to pretend she's the responsible one, hyeran. don't let the uniform fool you. she literally forgot to water granny's plants thrice last week.” caleb interjects, not looking back as he unpauses the game.
“it was only once, you liar.”
“whatever helps you sleep at night, sis.”
hyeran giggles, turning back to the screen as the countdown for the next round starts. “you two really argue like real siblings, it's so cute. my brothers just ignore me.”
siblings. there it is again. that stupid, suffocating word.
you stand behind the counter, a half-peeled apple in one hand and the paring knife in the other, then you look at caleb.
he’s doing this on purpose, is he? you know him too well not to see the edge beneath his playful demeanor. he’s showing you what life looks like when he plays by the rules you both set—the rules that say he is just a brother, and that he is perfectly free to bring other girls into the house you share.
caleb and hyeran continue to play the last few rounds of the game, their voices rising in cheerful bursts of laughter that fill the empty space where granny used to be. and you can only stand there, chewing on your tasteless fruit, staring at the back of caleb’s head with a sarcastic scowl.
this little bitch.
if this is the game, then you're going to be a better player.
if caleb wants to play a game of boundaries, you are going to show him exactly how it feels to have the board flipped. two can play the petty game of bringing people into a space where they don’t belong. if he can bring his shiny giggling friend into the living room, then you are going to give a certain someone else the time of day.
the very next morning, you seek out valko.
valko is the kind of blockmate who has spent the last semester treating your existence like a personal challenge. he’s loud, entirely too confident, and has spent months throwing flirty remarks your way—advances you’ve always shot down with a sharp roll of your eyes or a cold shoulder. so when you walk straight up to his desk before the morning lecture, leaning against the wood and offering a small smile, the confusion on his face was almost comical.
“you're... talking to me? no biting remarks? no telling me to get lost?” valko's eyebrows shot up as he stops shuffling through his tablet.
“maybe i'm just tired of being mean,” you say smoothly, tilting your head in a way you know looks casual, though your pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. “can't a blockmate just be friendly?”
valko isn’t a fool, but he’s certainly not going to complain about a sudden miracle. by the time the final bell rings at four in the afternoon, he’s already dangling his car keys between his fingers, blocking your path out of the lecture hall with a triumphant grin. “hey, since we're being friendly now, (name), let me give you a ride home. the clouds look heavy anyway. don't want you catching a cold.”
you hesitate for a fraction of a second, thinking of the dusty pavement and the walk you usually take, but then you picture caleb’s stupidly smug face from yesterday. “sure!” you say clearly, loud enough for a few surrounding classmates to hear. “thanks, valko.”
the walk to the student parking lot earns you exactly what you wanted: stares. a lot of them. whispers ripple through the department cliques as you slide into the passenger seat of valko’s surprisingly clean sedan. word travels fast on campus, and you know for a fact that caleb’s friends hang around the same smoking area right outside the parking exit.
the drive to your house is filled with the low hum of the air conditioner and valko’s easy chatter. but as the car finally pulls up along the familiar front gates of your house, the atmosphere inside the vehicle turns... awkward.
valko cuts the engine, his hands lingering on the steering wheel as he looks at the closed facade of the house. “so,” valko clears his throat, his eyes darting toward the front door. “your, uh... your big brother. caleb. is he home?”
you blink, “probably. why?”
valko lets out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “nnnothing, it's just... that guy is terrifyingly annoying. i saw that hunk staring at me in the cafeteria last week like he wanted to fuckin' dissect me. i don’t really fancy getting my head bitten off just because i drove his little sister home.”
you let out a breathless chuckle, the word sister grating against your nerves like sandpaper. you reach for the door handle, turning back to look at valko. “you don't have to worry about him, valko. and for the record... caleb and i aren't real siblings. we're not blood-related at all. his granny just took me in.”
valko’s eyebrows twitch upward, a sudden glint of renewed interest lighting up his eyes. “oh. seriously? huh. i didn't know that.”
“yep! well. thanks for the ride,” you say, pushing the car door open and stepping out into the humid afternoon air.
but valko doesn't just let you leave. he rolls down the passenger side window immediately, leaning over the console to keep the thread of the conversation tightly pulled. “hey, (name), wait—so if he's not your actual brother, does that mean i don't need his permission to take you out for real next time?”
valko cheekily smiles.
you idle right outside his side of the window, your fingers gripping the strap of your bag, keeping your expression light and teasing even as your eyes instinctively drift toward the glass of the living room window. “maybe, haha, you'll just have to ask nicely...”
“pipsqueak!”
the familiar shout cuts through the air. you immediately turn your head toward the source, only to see caleb jogging down the sidewalk toward the driveway with a bright smile splitting his face. before you can even process what he's up to, he closes the distance, throws his heavy arms around your waist, and lifts you clean off the asphalt.
he spins you around in a breathlessly joyful circle, his laughter vibrating hard against your chest.
“caleb! what's up? put me down!” you frown in utter confusion, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. inside the sedan, valko’s eyebrows knit together, his frown deepening by the second.
“you know what's up?” caleb sets you back down but doesn't let go. his large hands stay clamped firmly onto your upper arms, his eyes wide and gleaming with pure excitement. “we won, pips! our team won the interschool championship game!”
and because of that, the bitterness from the past week evaporates. your eyes light up, a wide smile breaking across your face. “oh my god, seriously? that’s amazing!”
“i know!” he laughs, pulling you back into an another tightly crushing hug. like he's using you as a lightning rod for all his manic energy, burying his face in your hair and all that.
thwack!
the car door behind caleb suddenly flies open, the heavy edge of the metal panel smacking squarely into his lower back.
“ah—” caleb winces, a sharp groan escaping him as he stumbles forward, forced to break his hold on you. he wheels around, eyes instantly hardening into something cold when valko steps out of the sedan.
“oops, sorry about that, mate,” valko grins, pulling his lips into an awkward one. “i didn't see you standing right in the swing of the door. anyway-uh, i'm valko, (name)'s blockmate.”
caleb straightens up to his full height, his broad shoulders squaring as he looks at the guy. the warm, golden-boy smile he gives valko is entirely rigid. “right, valko. i've heard. what brings you to our driveway?”
“just driving (name) home from campus,” valko replies, matching caleb’s forced courtesy. “and making sure she got back safe. well... you must be the big brother she mentioned.”
“something like that,”
“uhm, valko was just—” you stepped between them to clear up the mounting friction, but valko cuts you off completely.
he looks caleb straight in the eye, tilting his chin up. “actually, since you're here, i think it's only fair to tell you directly. i've decided i'm going to start courting (name).”
“cough, what?”
what?
both you and caleb widen your eyes, the world going dead silent.
“and honestly, man,” valko adds, crossing his arms and offering a smug tilt of his chin before either of you can even draw breath, “you probably shouldn't be hugging her too easily like that anymore. since, you know, i’m going to start dating her.”
you internally facepalm so hard your brain rattles. oh my god. what did you just get yourself into? valko had completely, catastrophically misread the entire situation. he thought he was playing the part of the chivalrous alpha suitor, oblivious to the fact that he was currently standing in a radioactive strike zone.
but then, a part of your brain clicks into gear. you wanted a reaction out of caleb, didn't you? you wanted to wipe that infuriatingly smug, "i-can-bring-girls-to-the-house" look off his face. maybe this trainwreck of a misunderstanding was exactly what you needed.
you let out a sigh, turning away from caleb to face valko with a perfectly practiced look. “it's fine, valko. caleb is just... a guy i grew up with. really. nothing else. just two kids who happened to live under the same roof.”
valko blinks, processing this, his chest puffing out a little more. “so... like childhood friends?”
“yeah!” you nod quickly, your tone a little too casual and a little too dismissive. “yeah, exactly. childhood friends. that's the perfect way to describe us.”
from the corner of your eye, you feel the exact moment caleb’s gaze burns into the side of your face. you glance up at him, and sure enough, he is staring down at you with a sarcastic scowl—the exact, burning, “this-little-bitch” look you had given him behind the kitchen counter yesterday. the silent, petty warfare is screaming between you two.
valko, blind to the silent daggers being thrown over his head, scoffs and shakes his head. “right. childhood friends. uh, honestly, i don't really buy that whole thing. there’s no way a guy and a girl can just be friends without something else going on. it’s usually just an excuse to keep someone within arm's reach.”
your heart does a nervous, jittery little skip. you quickly scramble to patch up the defense before valko digs too deep into the truth. “no, it's not like that at all! caleb is... he's like a brother to me. we're basically siblings.”
“but we... aren't siblings though.”
caleb’s voice cuts through your sentence like a blunt blade.
you freeze, your tongue going dry as you slowly pause and look up at him.
“i'm not your brother, (name).”
what the actual hell is he talking about?
your hands go hot and sweaty against your side. this is the exact same guy who, just a few days ago while dead drunk, threw the “not blood-related” card in your face to push you away and tell you to mind your own business. he was the one reinforcing the stupid label, using it as a shield to bring other girls around—and now, right in front of the guy who just announced he wants to court you, he’s arguing the exact opposite?
you stand there completely wordless, the nervous jittery tension tight enough to snap. valko shifts his weight across caleb, looking suddenly confused by the sudden shift in the air, but caleb doesn't even glance back at him.
he keeps his eyes entirely on you.
valko clicks his tongue.
“right,” he blurted out, deliberately stepping sideways to cut off caleb’s line of sight and forcing his way back into your field of vision. “anyway! you look kind of... tight right now, (name), like your shoulders are up to your ears. there's that street-food stall down the block that sells those pork dumplings. why don't we go grab a plate? my treat. it'll help you unwind.”
your brain, currently fried from caleb, scrambles for a normal human response. “oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could—i mean, sure, that sounds—”
“‘oh—uh, dumplings? i mean, i guess i could-’” caleb instantly parroted, his voice pitching into a ridiculous falsetto that sounded absolutely nothing like you. he slouched his shoulders, batting his eyelashes in a grotesque mimicry of modesty that made your fist twitch. “‘i guess i could eat a little dumpling, valko!’”
valko raised a brow.
“caleb, shut up!”
“i'm just saying,” caleb hummed at you, casually sliding his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. his thumb swiped across the screen with a smirk. “i should probably just dial up gran's unit real quick. let the nursing staff hold the receiver up to her ear so i can tell her that her precious adopted granddaughter is already out here in the driveway, ignoring her chores, just to eat cheap meat down the street with random guys from the university.”
he tilted his head, giving you a look of fabricated pity.
“man, she’s going to get reeaaally upset, pips. you know how her blood pressure gets when she finds out you're being irresponsible.”
“you wouldn't dare!” you gasped, your lungs seizing up. granny loved you, but she was a traditional woman who would absolutely launch a long-distance lecture about decorum through the phone lines if caleb fed her some twisted version of reality. “give me that!”
you lunged forward, throwing your weight against his side as you reached wildly for the device. but caleb had been anticipating the movement since the moment you took a breath. with a delighted chuckle, he simply straightened his spine, extending his long arm straight up into the air. because he had grown nearly a foot taller than you over the last three years, the phone might as well have been on the roof of the house.
“come on, grab it, pipsqueak,” he was solid as a brick wall! his chest vibrating against your forehead as he laughed down at your frustration. “you’re too short it's embarrassing.”
“caleb, i swear to god, drop your arm right now or i will kick you again!”
“hey, (name).”
you paused, breathless and flushed, looking back over your shoulder. valko had stepped closer, his expression a mix of irritation at being ignored and a tryhard desire to look like the savior of the narrative. before you could scramble away from caleb's side, valko reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around your right wrist.
“don't worry about him,” valko said, giving your wrist a soft, encouraging tug toward the open street. “come on, let's just go get the food. ignore the noise.”
the physical touch sent a strange jolt of awkwardness through you, and you instinctively took a step forward, your shoes clicking against the pavement while valko started walking you down the street.
snap.
a second basket of heat clamped down around your left wrist.
you blinked in utter surprise, your head whipping back around so fast your neck cracked.
caleb had also... wrapped his fingers around your opposite wrist. your right arm was pulled toward valko; your left arm was locked tight by caleb. you were literally being pulled in two different directions like a wishbone.
you stared at caleb, your heart doing a series of unpredictable thuds against your ribs. “what is up with you today, caleb...?”
“what?” he murmured, giving your arm a tiny, playful yank back toward his chest. “i want to eat dumplings too.”
—
and then, there you were.
the plastic stool beneath you wobbles every time someone passes the cramped table, but that's the least of your concerns. the air inside the tiny stall feels thick with the steam of boiling pork broth and the sting of chili oil. meanwhile, you're squeezed into the center of a very narrow wooden bench, a literal buffer zone between two opposite poles.
to your right is valko, leaning his elbow on the table and entirely absorbed in trying to keep your attention locked on him. then, to your left is caleb. he hasn't uttered a single syllable since you all sat down, choosing instead to stare ahead like a brooding gargoyle while a single plate of steaming dumplings sits between the three of you.
“no, seriously, (name),” valko shakes his head with a wide grin while he dips a dumpling into a small saucer of soy sauce. “professor actually looked me dead in the eye during the anatomy practical. i swear the man has a personal vendetta against me.”
you let out a breathless laugh. “maybe if you didn't sketch caricatures of him, he’d give you some grace.”
valko chuckles back, his shoulder nudging yours beneath the cramped table space. “hey, that was art. it showed appreciation for his eyebrows.”
slurrrrrp. smack. clack.
the sudden loud sound of chopsticks scraping against a plastic bowl cuts right through your shared laughter.
you blink, your head snapping toward the left side of the bench. caleb has his face nearly buried in his bowl as he takes a dripping piece of garlic-chili cabbage, shoves it into his mouth, and smacks his lips together with an obnoxious noise.
valko's grin falters slightly, his eyes darting over your head toward caleb. but caleb doesn't even look back. he just reaches across the small table, his long arm deliberately cutting off valko's view of you, and stabs another dumpling with such unnecessary force that the wrapper splits open with a wet pop.
“anyway,” you say quickly, your cheeks turning a frantic shade of pink as you try to steer the conversation back before caleb derails the establishment. “so... did you fail the practical or what?”
“uh, no, i managed a passing grade," valko says, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the absolute menace sitting next to you. “but after that, i had to spend two hours in the library just trying to—”
crunch. crunch. crunch.
caleb has now unearthed a bag of fried pork rinds from his pocket, snapping them between his teeth with a crunch. he leans back against the wooden bench, long legs splayed wide under the tiny table—his knee bumping solidly against yours with an insistence that makes you grind your teeth.
you glare at him, this little bitch is doing this on purpose.
caleb finally rolls his head over to look down at you. he takes another obnoxious bite of a pork rind, chewing it open-mouthed while raising a mocking eyebrow at you, like he was daring you to say something about it in front of your new suitor.
valko clears his throat, determined to plow through caleb's warfare like a true soldier of romance. he leans in a little closer, voice dropping into what he clearly thinks is an intimate tone. “so, anyway... since the weather's supposed to be nice this weekend, i was thinking maybe we could head down to that new cafe by the harbor? the one with the outdoor seating? we could—”
shrrrrrk!
caleb hooks his shoe around the bottom rung of your stool and, with one casual yank of his leg, slides your entire body a whole foot to the left. you instantly collide with his side, your shoulder smacking right against his solid bicep.
“what the...” you gasp, your hands flying out to grip the edge of the greasy table so you don't tip over.
but caleb doesn't even look up from his plate. he casually scoops up the last dumpling, pops it into his mouth, and speaks around it with unbothered calm. “hurry up and finish eating. we have to get back. we still have to feed our pet.“
you blink, your eyebrows nearly disappearing into your hairline. “since when do you care about the turtle?”
“i've always cared about him,” caleb turns his head to look down at you. “he's a vital member of the household.”
“i'm the only one who ever feeds him? you haven't touched his pellet container since 2024.”
“people change, sis. i've formed a bond with him over the last twenty-four hours,” caleb hums, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as his knee bumps against yours under the table again. “and right now, he's starving. we're being bad parents. so eat.”
meanwhile, valko sits on the right side of the table, his mouth slightly open. he looks at your stool, which is now physically closer to caleb than it is to him, and lets out a long defeated breath through his nose. he clearly wants to argue, but trying to debate the nutritional schedule of a reptile with a guy who looks like he could bench-press the entire dumpling stall seems like a losing battle.
so the poor guy chooses to remain quiet.
—
the very second the lock of the house clicked shut, your polite “public” face melted completely away, and you turned into a breathing volcano. “you are an actual child, caleb!” you started prattling instantly, tossing your heavy backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. your words tumbled out in a rush as you kicked off your shoes. “seriously, what was that? pulling my stool? making those obnoxious caveman noises? you were being a weirdo and an annoying prick for absolutely no reason. i feel so bad for...”
you spun around to give him a piece of your mind, but you paused.
there caleb was, leaning lazily against the doorway with his big arms crossed over his chest. he was staring down at you with a massive sarcastic scowl. ugh! he even had the nerve to look at you like youwere the one who had just ruined a perfectly good dumpling date over the turtle!
you mirrored his posture, locking your arms tight and tilting your chin up. “don't look at me like that. what is your actual problem today?”
instead of snapping back, a slow little smirk began to crawl onto caleb's face. oh, he was loving this. this was his absolute favorite game in the world, and you had just walked right into his trap. wordlessly, he unclipped himself from the doorframe and took a deliberate step toward you. and then another.
you instinctively took a step back, but clack—your hips hit the hard edge of the open kitchen counter.
you were cornered.
“my problem?“ now, caleb loomed over you, placing one palm on the counter right next to your waist to trap you in his shadow. “i don’t have a problem, pipsqueak. i was just being a protective big bro to you. isn’t that the label we chose?”
“protective? you looked like a lunatic!” you fired back, your face turning a furious shade of pink. “you were intentionally trying to ruin my conversation! for your information, you don't own me, caleb. if i want to go out and get dumplings with valko, i am allowed to.”
“with him?” caleb let out a chuckle, leaning down an inch closer until you could feel the warmth of his body. he was utterly enjoying how flustered and mad he was making you. “come on, the guy looks like he struggles with basic math. his hair looks like a bird nested in it. you seriously have zero taste.”
“huh, at least he doesn't bring random girls into our living room to scream at video games all afternoon! you had hyeran over here yesterday behaving like she owns the couch. if you can do stuff like that, why can't i?”
caleb’s smirk grew even wider, a quiet triumph gleaming in his eyes. ah, his face seemed to say, so that’s what this is really about.
“oh, so you were watching us from behind the counter,” he nudged his knee playfully against yours, anchoring you against the wood. “were you jealous, pips? is that why you let the car guy drive you home? because if you wanted to play video games with me that badly, all you had to do was ask nicely, you know?”
ah.
you had reached your absolute limit with caleb’s bottomless well of confidence. you were sick and tired of always being the one pressed against the woodwork, left all breathless and flushed while he got to stand there looking like the smartest boy in the whole wide world. you wanted the tables to turn so desperately that you could taste it, even if it meant playing a very dangerous game with your own silly little heart.
so, with a sudden narrowing of your eyes, you did something unpredictable.
yank!
your fingers reached out like little lightning bolts, wrapping tight around the fabric of caleb’s collar and pulling him downward with all your might.
oh, you should have seen his face. the teasing fool was caught off guard. his grand smirk evaporated into thin air, and a ragged little breath hitched right in the back of his throat. for the first time in a while, his polished exterior cracked into a million tiny pieces.
you didn't dare break eye contact. you leaned in just a millimeter closer, your voice dropping into a mocking whisper. “what's the matter, caleb? not so talkative now? where did all that big, brave mouth go?”
poor caleb’s brain had gone into emergency mode. inside his broad chest, his heart was drumming a frantic—thump-thump, thump-thump—so loud and violent that you could practically feel the vibration through his shirt. his large hand, still planted on the kitchen counter beside your waist, gripped the polished wood so tightly that his knuckles turned so white, as if he were holding onto the edge of a cliff to stop himself from falling over—or worse, from reaching out and grabbing you back.
seeing your victory, you decided to push your luck just a little bit further. your hand slowly traveled up from his collar, your fingertips tracing an agonizing path up the side of his warm neck, before your thumb gently tapped the very edge of his earlobe.
“look at that. for someone who acts so cool, your ears are so bright red.”
caleb swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down as he gulped down the dry air.
“you're such a hypocrite,” you mocked him one last time, giving his collar a playful shake. “always talking so much shit, but the second someone plays back, you freeze right up.”
and just as quickly as you had caught him, you planted both of your hands squarely against his hard chest and gave him a mighty shove.
whoosh!
caleb actually stumbled backward a couple of steps, his long legs flailing for a second before his feet caught the floorboards. he quickly cleared his throat—ahem, ahem—and rubbed the back of his neck.
“uh—wow,” he tries to forcefully laugh it off and turn the tension back into a silly joke. “okay, crazy lady. i- you nearly bit my nose off—”
“shut up and go jerk off to your notes, caleb.” you shot back over your shoulder.
caleb instantly went wide-eyed, letting out a dramatic cough—gack!—as he choked on his own saliva at the sheer obscenity of your remark.
you spun on your heel and marched happily down the hallway, slipping into your bedroom and clicking the lock shut with a very satisfied smile on your face, leaving the poor boy all alone in the quiet kitchen to figure out exactly what the hell had just happened to him.
serves him right.
—
and so, the great war officially began.
if you were going to be shameless about using valko as your personal human shield against your own confusing feelings, then caleb was going to be a thousand times more shameless about turning your life into a living cartoon. he became an absolute ghost in the machine, a walking disaster zone that magically appeared whenever valko so much as breathed in your direction.
on wednesday, you and valko were sitting on the low stone wall by the university quad, sharing a bag of salty chips. valko was leaning in close, his voice dropping into that tryhard smooth register again while he reached for a chip. thwack! out of absolutely nowhere, a round and suspiciously aerodynamic pebble shot through the leaves of the old oak tree, striking valko squarely in the middle of his forehead.
“ow! what the—” valko hissed, rubbing his brow as he looked around wildly.
far across the grass, standing by the sports locker rooms, caleb was casually tossing a basketball up and down in the air. he wasn't even looking at you. he was whistling a cheerful little tune, entirely innocent, though his vertical aim had been precise enough to deserve a gold medal.
on thursday, valko tried to walk you to your lab, proudly carrying your heavy medical dictionary like a true knight in shining armor. but as you rounded the corner of the science building, caleb suddenly materialized from the shadow of the vending machines. he didn't say a word to valko though. he just walked straight between the two of you like a giant solid wall, his broad shoulder subtly but violently checking valko to the side.
“oh, sorry, mate,” caleb hummed, reached down, and snagged the heavy book right out of valko’s hands before the guy could even blink. “my (name)'s got a weak spine, you know. family history. i always carry her books. thanks for holding it, though!” and just like that, he marched off, flipping through the pages of your textbook without a single care in the world.
it was a relentlessly ridiculous game of tag, a noisy circus meant to keep the terrifying gravity of that kitchen counter argument from swallowing you both whole. as long as caleb was throwing rocks and stealing books, he didn't have to think about his bright red ears, and you didn't have to think about his racing heartbeat.
until friday afternoon arrived, and the playful music finally... stopped.
the sky was the color of bruised slate when valko’s sedan pulled up along the front gates of your house. the engine let out an idling purr against the quiet pavement. you stepped out of the passenger side, but you didn't immediately walk toward the door. instead, you lingered by the open window, your shoulders slouched and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth in a rare display of genuine defeat.
today, you had failed the major quiz.
you had studied until three in the morning, your eyes burning under the harsh blue light of your phone, only to see an ugly red circle at the top of your paper. the exhaustion and the disappointment were sitting heavy on your chest, and it felt so fucking awful.
“hey,” valko seemed to catch on it, pushing his car door open and stepping out onto the asphalt beside you. he looked at your downcast face, his usual arrogant confidence softening into something genuinely concerned. “come on, (name). don't look like that. it's just one quiz. prof is a sadist anyway, everyone struggled.”
“i didn't just struggle, valko. i choked,” you muttered, staring down at the tips of your dirty shoes. “i'm supposed to be the responsible one. granny’s paying for these blocks, and i can’t even remember the difference between cellular necrosis and apoptosis when the timer's ticking.”
saying that now, it kind of makes you laugh a bit.
but little did you know, behind the glass of the living room window, a pair of eyes was watching.
caleb stood in the shadows of the house, his arms hanging loose at his sides as he looked through the pane. he had been waiting for you. he had already cleared the kitchen counter, ready to cook whatever ridiculous comfort food you wanted to cheer yourself up after a long week. but now, he was frozen. he watched the way your lower lip trembled, the way your fingers nervously twisted the strap of your bag. he knew that exact look on your face. he knew the precise flavor of your sadness because he had been the one to hold your hand through every failed exam and scraped knee since you were seven years old. every protective instinct in his body screamed at him to open the front door, to run down the driveway, to scoop you up and carry you inside where it was safe.
but he didn't move, because he didn't have the right to.
“hey,” valko murmured again, stepping closer. “hey, look at me.”
and you looked up, your eyes wide and vulnerable. before your brain could even process the movement, valko reached out. his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your smaller frame firmly against his chest in a sudden hug meant to chase the cold away.
your body went stiff as a board against his jacket, hands dangling awkwardly at your sides. you hadn't expected it, maybe because... you hadn't wanted him to do it.
inside the house, behind the glass, caleb saw it. of course he did.
the sight of another man's arms holding you—the sight of you standing perfectly still in the driveway while someone else tried to soothe your tears—rubbed bitterly against him.
it was one of those moments again, those moments when caleb couldn't summon a single sarcastic remark. couldn't pull out a smirk. couldn't even pretend to be angry. it was just a thick and suffocating wave of unadulterated possessiveness and grief washing over him.
his jaw tightened, throat bobbing heavily as he gulped down a painful breath. his hand, which had been resting lightly against the edge of the curtain, suddenly convulsed, his fingers tearing into the fabric. he couldn't look at it. he physically and mentally could not bear to see another second of you belonging to someone else, even for a fleeting moment of comfort.
with a jerk of his arm, caleb yanked the heavy curtains shut, sealing out the afternoon light and plunging the living room into darkness.
caleb blinked several times, trying to catch his breath, trying to keep himself calm, trying to stay where he's at and remove the ugly thoughts of doing something to that red-haired guy.
the living room was supposed to be a hiding place, but the walls inside granny's house had grown far too narrow to hold himself. his chest heaved, and his feet simply refused to stay glued to the floorboards. and the rationality he always wore like a freshly ironed uniform eventually disintegrated, leaving nothing but an itch that dragged him back toward the door.
it swung open with a bang that cut right through the hum of valko’s idling engine.
immediately, your head whipped around at the noise, your eyes still wide and startled from the sudden weight of valko's arms around you. but before you could even draw enough breath to call his name, caleb was already down the concrete steps.
with a sudden jerk of his forearm, caleb reached out and grabbed the shoulder of valko’s jacket, yanking the guy backward with enough force to break his hold on you.
“did she say yes to you?” caleb asked, “are the two of you officially dating right now?”
valko blinked, thoroughly bewildered and rattled by this guy's audacity. “no, we aren't, but i'm—”
“then you don't have any right to touch her like that,” caleb cut him off, his voice flat and freezing cold. “you don’t get to wrap your arms around her if she hasn't given you permission to be there. it's rude. it’s completely out of line.”
valko let out an incredulous scoff, the sheer persistence of caleb’s interference finally pushing past him. he took a step forward, tilting his chin up until he was staring directly into caleb’s face. he finally found the courage to say what he’d been thinking for weeks. “are you serious right now? what is your actual problem, caleb? what are you even to her?”
you blinked and looked up at valko.
“you’re always... hovering. you’re always throwing things, always splitting us up, always acting like you own the ground she walks on. you said you aren't her brother. she said you aren't siblings. so what exactly is your deal? what are you to her?”
caleb’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
so valko saw the break in the armor, and he drove the blade right through the crack. “do you like her?”
at that, your heart did a leap behind your ribs, the blood rushing to your ears so loudly it drowned out the noise of everything else. you desperately and subconsciously wanted to hear the syllables leave his lips, to know if the pull you’d been drowning in was something he was drowning in too.
what is he going to say? why isn't he saying anything?
but caleb couldn't answer.
he knew you were staring at him. he could probably feel the exact weight of your eyes tracking the rigid line of his jaw and the frantic rise and fall of his chest. but for the first time in his life, he couldn't meet your gaze back. his eyes darted nervously across valko, his throat bobbing in a gulp as he tried to find a lie big enough to save him.
until finally, slowly, caleb’s head tilted downward. his hair fell forward over his brow, before he hesitantly rolled his gaze down until his eyes locked directly onto yours.
gulp.
that look in his eyes...
it was something you had always disliked since you were kids. everytime the either of you brought up the subject of parents, of having a mother and a father, he did that face. except now it isn't because of that.
now...
“i'm her guardian.”
caleb answered.
“what?” your head tilted to the side, that familiar sarcastic scowl crawling right back onto your face.
“i am her legal guardian,” caleb repeated, nodding with a completely straight face. “since our gran is currently being held back at the nursing home facility for medical observation, the responsibility of maintaining the household and ensuring the safety of it falls entirely on me. i am the primary caretaker of this residence.”
this little bitch.
valko just stood there, his mouth hanging open so wide a family of birds could have moved in. “what?”
before you or valko could even open your mouths to scream at him for being an absolute fool, caleb’s heavy hand snapped down around your wrist.
“anyway, it's getting very close to six o'clock, which is the official cutoff time for driveway visitations,” caleb said, his voice dripping with an agonizingly tryhard politeness as he began walking backward, dragging you along like a sack of potatoes. he offered valko a little wave with his free hand. “thank you so much for the transportation, valko! drive home safely! watch out for the speed bumps on the main avenue, they’re quite treacherous this season!”
“caleb, you fucking—” you lunged backward, but caleb’s grip was absolute. you were forced to do a clumsy little sideways shuffle up the concrete steps, your free arm flailing in the air as you tried to offer valko at least a goodbye. “bye, valko! sorry! i’ll text you about the anatomy slides!”
but valko didn't even wave back. he just stood by his open car door, probably wondering if this whole situation was secretly a psychological experiment.
slam! click-clack!
the wooden door finally shut.
the very second the threshold was secure, caleb dropped your wrist like it was a hot potato. the authoritative guardian persona vanished into thin air, and he turned into a quiet giant. without saying a single word, without even looking at you, he spun on his heel and marched straight toward the safety of the open-concept kitchen.
you stood alone in the center of the living room.
this little brat is seriously getting on my nerves!
one second he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world, and the next second he’s inventing fake household rules just to avoid answering a simple question!
but you were not going to let him see how much he had rattled you. oh, absolutely not. you needed to get the upper hand back, even if you had to fake it.
you let out a dramatic cough to clear your throat, smoothing down the front of your wrinkled shirt before you marched over to the kitchen island. instead of hiding in your room like a coward, you hopped right onto one of the tall barstools, planting your elbows on the counter so you could watch him like a hawk.
“you are insane, you know that? a guardian? seriously? that is the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth.”
caleb didn't answer you. he was currently busy staring down at the kitchen counter with an expression of concentration. for a guy who was usually a wizard with a skillet, he looked lost. he had a carton of heavy cream in one hand, a bottle of soy sauce in the other, and a tub of margarine sitting between them like a puzzle he couldn't solve.
“you were being so aggressive out there! valko was just trying to be nice because i was having a bad day—hey i'm speaking to you!” you huffed, your eyes narrowing as you watched him confusedly pick up a bulb of garlic, stare at it like it was an alien spacecraft, and then drop it back onto the wood. “are you even listening to me, you brat?”
“what am i to you, then?” caleb finally spoke.
oh, now, do you feel that? the air in granny’s kitchen just became so thick you could probably slice it with the very paring knife you used for those apples last week. you thought you were safe sitting on that high barstool, tucked neatly behind the counter like a judge delivering a very righteous verdict.
but you forgot one very important rule when it comes to your big bro: he always knows when you’re hiding behind a loud mouth.
you should have just gone to your room. you should have just locked the door, eaten a stale cracker, and minded your own business instead of sitting out here pretending to be brave.
but it was already too late to run.
caleb finally abandoned his study of the soy sauce bottle and turned around. and then, he took a few strides over to your side of the counter. before your brain could even coordinate a retreat—shrrrrk!—caleb reached down to hook his hands around the metal legs of your stool, and pulled you a whole foot closer to him.
the proximity was so sudden your cheeks erupted into a furiously bright blush, while he just stood towering right over you.
“tell me, pipsqueak,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before lifting back to your eyes. “what is valko to you?”
“he's my... suitor?”
“and what am i to you?”
“y-you're just—i mean, we've always been—”
with a slow lean, he brought his entire upper body down, planting his palms firmly on the seat of your stool right on either side of your thighs.
“do you want me to stop playing the sibling part then? do you want me to become something else?” caleb tilted his head, his voice dropping into a soft whisper.
“what do you mean... something else?”
a faint little smile touched the corner of caleb’s lips. “you know, like... a guy. a guy to you.”
thump. thump. thump.
your heart was no longer just beating; it was a damn throbbing thing inside your chest. your hands went completely numb against the stool, your eyes wide and your mouth slightly ajar in a look of such ridiculous shock.
caleb tracked every single ounce of your panic. he saw the terror, the blush, the absolute deer-in-the-headlights look paralyzing your face.
and then, just as the tension reached the absolute breaking point... caleb suddenly let out a boisterous laugh.
phew!
he pulled his upper body back, releasing your stool from his cage. before you could even register the sudden rush of cool air between you, caleb reached out and playfully pinched the tip of your bright red nose, shaking your head gently from side to side.
“gotcha,” he chuckled and turned back to the kitchen counter. “man, you should see your face right now, you look like a terrified little bird. i'm obviously just teasing you.”
you couldn't even bring yourself to manufacture a witty comeback. you just sat there on that stool, staring blankly into the empty space between the salt shaker and the soy sauce bottle.
caleb, however, appeared to have moved on, back to being the domestic king of the kitchen, the heavy iron skillet letting out a cheerful sizzle-hiss while he tossed the chopped garlic into the oil.
“we need to head out early tomorrow to visit gran, by the way,” caleb hummed casually over the sound of the spitting grease. “like, seven in the morning early. so don't stay up late scrolling through your phone.”
the mention of your grandmother finally poked a hole through your daze. you blinked, shaking your head slightly to clear the cobwebs as you focused on the back of his neck. “...why so early? the nursing home visiting hours don't even get busy until noon.”
“i have to be back on campus by ten. coach called a basketball practice for the championship preparations, and i can't miss it.”
“ah.” you nodded to the back of his head.
you managed to survive the rest of the evening by acting like a very polite, very quiet ghost, eventually slipping into your bedroom to endure a night of toss-and-turn sleep where caleb's whispering voice kept echoing in your dreams.
until the next morning arrived and caleb decided that the boy from yesterday was officially dead and buried.
bang! bang! bang!
“wake up, monkey! rise and shine!”
your bedroom door then flew back against the wall with a violent clack as caleb marched inside like a fucking drill sergeant. before your sleep-deprived eyes could even adjust to the morning light, caleb reached the edge of your mattress.
whoosh!
with one yank of his hand, he ripped your cozy duvet clean off your body, leaving you curled up in a shivering little ball on your sheets.
“fuck, why are you so damn loud early in the fucking morning?” you shrieked.
“ten minutes, and if you're not in up, i'm leaving you behind and telling gran you love sleeping more than you love her!”
minutes later, you successfully managed to wash the sleep from your eyes and throw on a decent pair of clothes, though the inner grump was still very much awake.
you stood at the kitchen island, furiously snapping the plastic lids onto a neat little tower of tupperware containers. caleb had actually outdone himself this time—the savory aroma of freshly stewed chicken broth and garlic rice was already locked tight inside the plastic, ready to be delivered to granny's bedside.
the downstairs bathroom door swung open, and out stepped the grand tormentor himself.
you instinctively lifted your head, only for your brain to immediately scream abort mission! abort mission! because caleb had a fluffy white towel draped lazily over his damp hair, but that was the only thing he was wearing from the waist up. his broad shoulders, the sharp line of his collarbones, and the ridiculous expanse of his chest were completely on display, glistening faintly with a few stray droplets of water.
you whipped your head back toward the tupperware so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, your cheeks instantly sparking with a familiar warmth.
“hey,” he stopped right on the other side of the counter, smelling faintly of mint and soap. “did we run out of the extra toothpaste? i can’t find the tubes under the sink.”
“cabinet. it's behind the extra bars of soap on the top shelf. go look there.”
“right. thanks,” he mumbled, turning on his heel and thankfully retreating back into the bathroom.
you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. honestly, the nerve of this guy.
not long after, caleb finally emerged looking like a civilized human being again, with his heavy sports duffel bag slung carelessly over one arm.
“you ready to go?”
“yep,” you quickly gathered the paper bag full of food and stepped toward the front door.
but as caleb walked past the living room window sill, his eyes narrowed at the row of small terracotta pots sitting in the morning sun. he stopped, casually extending one long finger and poking it straight into the dark soil.
he paused.
he wiggled his finger, then, he turned his head to look at you, a knowing eyebrow crawling up his forehead. “brat. did you water the ferns today?”
you froze right with your hand on the doorknob, your lips twitching, and you turned around to offer him the most innocent cheeky smile you could possibly muster.
caleb let out a roll of his eyes.
“come here,” he pointed a finger at the floor in front of him.
“no.” you shook your head violently. “we have to leave early, remember? for gran, and your super important basketball practice!”
with a delighted laugh, caleb let his heavy sports duffel bag slide right off his shoulder, letting it hit the floorboards with a loud thud. and before you could even turn the doorknob to escape, he closed the distance between you in two strides.
“caleb, wait—ah!”
you shrieked when his large hands clamped firmly around your waist. with zero effort, he lifted your feet clean off the ground, turning you around while you flailed uselessly in the air. he marched two steps back into the living room and dropped you right against the plush cushions of the sofa.
“punishment time!” caleb laughed, instantly hovering over you and planting his knees on either side of your hips so you couldn't wiggle away.
“no, stop! caleb, i swear—!”
but your threats were instantly drowned out by your own hysterical laughter as his long fingers began mercilessly digging into your ribs. you squirmed and twisted beneath him, hands frantically trying to swat his wrists away, but he was too big, too heavy, and entirely too good at finding your most ticklish spots!
eventually, what started as a simple tickle punishment quickly spiraled into a full-blown war of the cushions.
the moment caleb’s fingers paused to let you catch your breath, your inner competitive spirit woke up. you weren't just going to sit there and take the defeat! with a heave, you planted your socks against the back of the sofa and launched your entire body forward, aiming a messy tackle straight at his broad chest.
“oh, so we're wrestling now?” caleb laughed, his deep voice booming right against your ear before he effortlessly caught you by the waist.
the rules of the house were completely thrown out the window as the two of you flipped, twisted, and rolled across the plush cushions, trying every single fake martial arts move you had ever seen on television. heck, you were pulling out all the stops—trying to hook your arm around his neck, aiming sharp elbows at his ribs, and trying to pull off a dramatic headlock.
you were starting to sweat, and you were putting 110% of your soul into making this giant human being tap out.
caleb, on the other hand? he was putting in absolutely zero effort. he was literally lying back against the pillows, letting out a loud, breathless laugh at every single one of your frantic maneuvers. to him, you probably felt like an angry flailing puppy. every time you thought you had a solid grip on his arm, he would casually just flex his bicep and pop right out of it.
“come on, pipsqueak!” he taunted, easily batting your hands away as you tried to pin his shoulders. “is that all you got? my teammates hit harder than this during warmups!”
“shut up and die, caleb!”
you threw your weight into one final grapple. but alas, pride can be a very dangerous thing when you're fighting a varsity athlete.
caleb decided the game had gone on long enough. and in one quick motion, he caught both of your wrists in a single hand, threw his heavy leg over your torso, and completely flipped you over.
oomph!
suddenly, you were now slammed chest-first against the back cushions of the sofa. caleb slid right up behind you, his body pressing heavily against your back to completely pin you down. he wrapped one massive arm securely around your upper chest like a seatbelt, while his other hand kept your wrists locked together near your chin.
you were utterly trapped in a textbook rear-naked choke hold.
“all right, game over,” he gave you a playful squeeze, anchoring you even tighter against him. “tap out and acknowledge me as your supreme ruler, and i'll let you go.”
“never! i will literally bite you before i tap out!”
“stubborn little girl.” caleb chuckled softly, his chest rumbling right against your back. “you can't move. just tap the couch and save your dignity.”
oh, he thought he had won because he was bigger and stronger? he forgot that you were smaller, faster, and willing to play dirty.
the competitive fog in your brain is a blinding thing, so heavy that your survival instincts completely take the wheel before your common sense can even map out anything else. you don't even know what possessed you. you aren't thinking about the dangerous lines you almost crossed together over the past few days; only thinking about the iron band of his arm across your chest, and the humiliating prospect of defeat.
so, you use the only lever you have left.
with a subtle shift of your weight, you arch your spine slightly and press back, slowly grinding your bum right against the heat of his crotch.
!
behind your back, caleb’s entire frame goes stiff as a stone wall. the boisterous laughter bubbling in his chest dies mid-breath, cutting off into nothing but a ragged hitch. it takes him three agonizing seconds to realize what tactic you’ve just deployed, and when it finally clicks...
“(name),” he groans, his voice no longer the cocky older brother but something rough, uncovered, and deeply rattled. “what... what are you doing?”
but instead of releasing you, his massive arm tightens around your upper torso, locking you so hard against his chest that you can feel the frantic hammering of his heart against your back. he tries to laugh it off, tries to maintain the upper hand, but the words come out strained and frayed at the edges. “nice try, though, pips. dirty tactics don't work on... nh... varsity players.”
the tiny stifled sound that slips from his throat was all the fuel you needed. it’s working. he sounds so tense, his breath coming in shallow puffs against the sensitive nape of your neck.
your own face is a burning mess of a tomato, but the taste of victory is too close. you want to remind him that he doesn't hold a monopoly on audacity in this house. you have it too.
you move again, harder this time, abandoning any pretense of subtlety. you press your ass firmly into his crotch, rolling your hips back against him in such an explicit way.
“hey, stop, seriously—” caleb chokes out, a helpless moan breaking past his lips before he can catch it. his fingers, still holding your wrists, lose their grip, beginning to tremble against your skin.
subconsciously, his own hips begin to tilt forward, meeting your shameless grinding with a press of his own. “this... this isn't working, you should try something else. or just tap out. because i'm still not... ah... letting you go.” he swallows hard, his thumb twitching against your wrist, his long legs tangling with yours on the cushions as he tries to find an exit from the trap you both built. “so just... tap out and stop, yeah?”
“s-shouldn't you... shouldn't you be the one tapping out, huh?” your heart is doing frantic and erratic loops behind your ribs, but you push through the panic. “isn't it... isn't it weird that someone you see as a sister is doing such a thing to you? you're the older one, caleb... you should tap out. be the responsible one.”
to prove that you aren't the one who is going to break first under the weight of this, you roll your hips back against him again harder, dragging your bum across the expanse of his crotch.
caleb doesn't answer you with words. he can't. all that leaves his throat is a series of thick, breathless moans—nh... ah—each one a helpless sound that shatters the last remaining illusion of the “sibling” shield you both spent years constructing.
and then, slowly, you feel a very hard thing pressing solidly through the fabric of his bottoms. it felt heavy and hot enough to burn through your clothes. your movements instantly slow down, your entire body going rigid as a fresh wave of red flushes from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. is that his...? no, no, no. you don't want to point it out. you don't want to say a single word. if you say it out loud, the universe will split wide open and there will be absolutely no going back to the way things were before.
but while you are trapped inside the spinning dizzyness of your own thoughts, you were too slow to realize that caleb's palms had snapped down around your wrists, separating them from your chin. with a surge of his upper body, he pins both of your arms flush against the cushions on either side of your head.
and then, without a single shred of his usual teasing hesitation, caleb pulls his hips back—and drives them forward, dryhumping you roughly from behind.
“ah—!”
“don't move,” caleb humps you again, a rhythmic thrust that slides his heat perfectly between your thighs. “tap out now, (name).”
no, there is no way you're going to easily tap out like this. if you do, that's just going to show him how easily he can just go to his way with you. so without much of a choice, you bite your lip.
“fuck, nh...”
why is he moaning? does this feel good for him?
“just... tap out, pips,” he pants heavily, hips rolling into you in another rough stride that makes your toes curl inside your socks. “tap the couch and tell me to stop... otherwise, i'm just gonna keep going.”
“i-i hate you,” you tighten your fingers against the cushions beneath his palms, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “caleb, ngh—i swear to god, i...”
caleb lets out a chuckle, “yeah? how much?”
he doesn't let you answer and instead slides his hands down from your wrists to grip the very edges of your hip bones. with one forceful heave of his strong arms, he hoists your hips up high off the sofa cushions, tilting your pelvis back and locking you into a perfectly angled incline—before slamming his hips forward again, driving his hard erection deep into the curve of your ass.
“not tapping out yet?”
“i-i'm not tapping—!”
you cut yourself off when caleb's hips against your bum suddenly stutters. he drives into you one last time—hard and entirely too desperate—and then his entire body goes completely rigid.
“(name)—ah, fuck—!”
caleb lets out an unvarnished moan, his voice breaking into a breathless whine as his chest shudders violently against your back. he freezes, fingers digging bruisingly hard into your hip bones before a wave of heat blooms right through his shorts, dampening the fabric of your pants.
your brain, despite having zero knowledge about how men's bodies work or what exactly happens when they hit their limit, registers the sudden wet warmth and his sudden loss of strength.
oh. he messed up.
“a-are you kidding me? did you just—”
“shut up,” caleb wheezes, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “don't... don't say it.”
“oh, i am absolutely saying it!”
being an opportunistic woman, you take advantage of his jelly-like limbs and twist your torso. caleb is usually a solid brick wall, but right now, his body is too sensitive. you wrench your hips out of his slack grip, plant your hands on his broad shoulders, and shove him backward with all your might.
thud!
caleb falls flat onto his back against the sofa cushions, and before he can even think about recovering, you launch yourself over his lap, straddling his thighs and planting your hands squarely on either side of his neck, pinning his arms down.
strangely, he doesn't even fight you. caleb is easily strong enough to bench-press you off him with one hand, but instead of resisting, he just lets out a pathetic grunt and lets his arms go limp beneath your palms.
“look at the so-called supreme ruler now,” you mock him instantly, a breathless smirk breaking across your face. “what happened, caleb? you were talking so much shit about tapping out, and you couldn't even last three minutes? you came too fast that was pathetic!”
“(name), please,” caleb groans, his face turning a shade of pink as he tries to turn his head away from your gaze. “you don't even know what you're saying.”
“well, i know you're a loser.”
“you... you started it!” caleb defends himself weakly, his voice was an embarrassed whisper while his fingers nervously twitch against the couch cushion. he finally rolls his eyes back to meet yours. “what is wrong with your head? you were the one grinding your ass against me like a p-pervert... what did you think was going to happen?”
“i was trying to make you tap out!” you argue back, your face heating up again but your grip on his arms tightening.
“by making me cum...?“ caleb whines, his jaw clenching when he lets out a shaky breath. “that's a pretty lame strategy don't you think?”
“you're just making excuses because you lost,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite the thick layer of bravado you're pouring over it. you look down at the front of his joggers where a distinct darkening patch of wetness is spreading against the fabric. “look at that. the great caleb, taken down by a simple strategy. i should take a picture and send it to your coach.”
“y-you brat, i swear to god, shut up,” caleb groans with a laugh. “you don't know what you're doing. just get off me.”
“no, i think this needs a proper inspection.”
your brain is screaming at you to stop, telling you that you are sprinting across a line you can never cross back over, but the sheer adrenaline of having caleb completely at your mercy prevents you from backing down. if you stop now, if you get off him and let him look at you with that smug smirk again, the awkwardness will literally suffocate you. you have to finish this. you have to prove he's the loser.
with a suddenly decisive movement, you reach down and grab the waistband of his joggers.
“wait—(name), hold on—” caleb gasps, his eyes going wide with panic as you pull the fabric down.
even through the cotton fabric of his dark grey boxers, his dick is thick, massive, and still remarkably heavy and hard despite having just come. it stretches the front of his underwear to its limit, a rigid outline that looks terrifying up close. holy shit. he's... he's huge.
your face is burning so hot you're pretty sure you're going to spontaneously combust. your hands are shaking, your ears ringing, but you force your fingers to move forward. you place your palm flat against the center of his boxers, wrapping your fingers directly around the pulsing length of his dick.
“ah—nh!” caleb's head flies back against the sofa cushions, fingers clawing into your waist so hard it almost hurts. “fuck, stop... i told you i'm too sensitive—”
“what's the matter?” you stammer, your voice cracking as you squeeze him slightly through the cotton, your thumb tracing the hard ridge of his shaft. “thought you said it didn't work? you're twitching so much under my hand, caleb. who's the weak one now?”
“you're... you're a psycho,” caleb pants, a strained chuckle breaking through his ruined voice. he looks up at you through his long eyelashes, jaw clenched and sweat beading at his hairline. “what about you? you're blushing like a tomato and your hands are shaking. you're terrified right now, aren't you?”
“i'm not terrified of a loser,” you lie through your teeth, sliding your hand up and down his length, the friction through his boxers causing another wet drop of pre-cum to seep through the fabric against your palm.
“fuck... ah, please,” he looks so devastatingly undone beneath you it's funny, his chest heaving while he whines against the cushions. “you're... you're cheating. this is a foul. i'm gonna tell gran you're being so...”
“granny would just laugh at you for being so weak,”
the boy who used to help you look for snails in the backyard after a heavy rain—the same boy who once gave you a piggyback ride for three blocks because you scraped your knee on the pavement—was currently pinned beneath you on granny’s floral-print sofa, stripped down to his underwear and trembling like a leaf.
it was a sacrilegious image, because for ten whole years, caleb had been the towering fixture of your childhood, the annoying older-brother figure who stole your food and made fun of your haircuts. but now, the fabric of his boxers was the only thing standing between you and a completely different world.
“you’re still shaking.” your voice was a little breathy, though you kept your eyes locked on his face to hide how fast your own heart was knocking against your ribs.
caleb let out a ragged laugh, his head tilting back against the cushions. “you aren't going to make me tap out if that's what you're planning, you silly.”
“oh, you think you're so smart?”
before he could even muster another cocky comeback, your fingers hooked directly into the elastic waistband of his boxers and dragged the fabric down past his hips.
and just like that, the angry length of caleb's dick sprang free, twitching madly in the warm morning light.
oh my god.
he was fucking huge. the thick, veins-veined shaft was throbbing with a pulse, the heavy weight of it slapping against his lower belly when the fabric set it free.
caleb’s eyes went wide as the cool air hit his bare skin, a genuine spike of panic breaking through his composure. “hey, wait, hold on, what are you planning to do?”
you stared down at the very tip of him, where a shiny drop of clear pre-cum was slowly leaking out, glistening against the skin. the sight of it made a strange spark right in the pit of your stomach.
“i'm finishing the wrestling match,” you whispered, your hand moving forward until your fingers wrapped completely around his thick shaft.
“fuck—nnggh!“ caleb gasped out loud, his entire upper body arching off the sofa as your palm made direct contact with his heat. his knuckles turned white as he grabbed the edge of the armrest. “(name)... seriously, you don't know what you're doing, stop it.”
“shut up and take your punishment.”
“you don't know shit about—oh, fuck—please... i'm gonna come again, i swear to god...”
but you weren't done pushing his limits, you wanted to erase every single ounce of that cocky exterior until there was nothing left but the vulnerable boy beneath you.
leaning down until your chest was nearly brushing his lap, you let your hand slide away from his tip—and replaced it with your tongue.
you swiped your warm and wet tongue directly over the crown of his dick, licking up the excess pre-cum and the sticky remnants of his earlier climax from the sensitive skin.
“ah-!”
at that, caleb lets out an undignified shriek that was instantly swallowed by a deep groan. his hands flew to the sides of your head, fingers tangling frantically into your hair as his dick twitched against your lips, throbbing so hard it felt like a living thing. he was whining openly now, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling with blown-out eyes.
you wrapped your lips around the very top of his shaft, sucking him gently. “(name)... i hate you... i hate you so much...”
“how much, caleb?” you mumbled against his hard skin, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your hand gripping the base of his giant length to keep him locked right where you wanted him.
“i'm not gonna last, (name). seriously, i'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop,”
but you don't stop. your tongue swipes over the sensitive ridge again, determined to drive the final nail into his coffin. truth be told, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing. your teeth graze his skin awkwardly, your suction is uneven, and your movements are incredibly clumsy, lacking any real rhythm. but caleb is just as clueless and inexperienced as you are, and to a boy whose body is already primed and hyper-sensitive from a first climax, the messy, wet warmth of your mouth feels like absolute heaven.
you keep going, your hand stroking his base while you lick the sticky tip. you just want to make him blow his top again. you need to see him completely break, just so you can hold it over his head for the rest of his life.
...or is that really all it is? because your heart is hammering so loud it's practically echoing in your throat, and a strange heat is pooling deep in your stomach as you taste him.
“fuck... i'm coming, i'm literally—ah, nh...” caleb whines out loud, his head thrashing against the cushions, his entire lower body trembling while his hips lift off the sofa, twitching directly into your mouth.
you tighten your grip, getting ready for the final victory—and then, the world violently flips upside down.
whoosh!
caleb’s hands leave your hair and snap down around your armpits. your mouth slips off his dick with a wet pop when he completely sat up before he hoists your entire body into the air like you weigh absolutely nothing.
“ah! what do you think you're—!”
and with one ruthless motion, caleb pivots your torso and bends you straight over the widely padded backrest of the sofa. your chest is pressed flat against the top cushion, your head dangling over the back of the couch toward the floor, while your hips are lifted high and trapped beneath his massive weight as he slides up behind you.
and then, you hear it. a breathless and absolutely insufferable chuckle bouncing right against your ears.
“you are such a gullible girl,” caleb pants heavily, his chest heaving against your shoulder blades as he lets out a triumphant laugh. he isn't coming at all. “did you really think i was gonna let you win that easily? you thought you could just suck me off and make me cry?”
“you literal piece of trash!” you yell, trying to push yourself up off the backrest and kicking your legs blindly behind you. “let me go, caleb, i swear to god—”
caleb's hips slide right back against your ass, his hard length pressing explicitly into your lower back to remind you who has the upper hand. he grips your waist with both hands, locking your pelvis into place so you can't wiggle an inch. “save all the shouting, okay?” he gives your hip a playful, firm squeeze. “we're right back where we started. you're pinned, you're cornered, and you're out of moves. so what's it gonna be, huh? are you finally gonna tap out or do i have to keep you bent over here all morning? 'cause i don't mind being late, you know.”
“shut up,” you choke out, your forehead digging hard into the plush fabric of the backrest. “i'm not... i'm not listening to a liar who fakes a climax just to cheat his way out of his loss.“
“it's called strategy, sweetheart. you should look it up sometime,” he chuckles, an arrogant little sound that rubs directly against your neck. “but you know... since you were so incredibly bold with me just now... since you decided you could just put your hands wherever you wanted... i think it's only fair that it's my turn now, right? that's how the game works.”
for all his cocky bravado, you feel a sudden tremor pass through his palms. his fingers twitch against your skin. he’s hesitating, isn't he? the heavy reality of what you've both done sinks into the quiet spaces of the room, but he doesn't pull back.
slowly, his fingertips hook into the waistband of your shorts. you let out a quiet whimper when he slides the fabric down over your thighs, exposing the bare expanse of your bum to the morning air.
and then, the teasing stops.
the living room goes dead silent, save for the uneven rhythm of caleb's breathing. he stares down at you, his throat bobbing in a gulp. even without turning around, you know exactly what he’s looking at. the thin fabric of your panties is kind of ruined and darkened, clinging, and utterly soaked through with a wetness from your own mounting frustration.
“...you're wet, (name). what am i supposed to do with you like this?” caleb whispers, his voice suddenly stripped of its malice.
“don't look at it, you brat.” you whimper, trying to hide your face in the sofa. “caleb, don't—just let me up, please—”
“no way, you started this. you don't get to run away just because you're embarrassed?” caleb chuckled.
then wordlessly, his fingers hook the side of your underwear, pulling the fabric upward to stretch it tight against your skin, using the soaked material to press firmly up into your sensitive folds.
“ah—”
“look at how you're reacting,” caleb murmurs, leaning his weight harder into you. “but you've been a really bad girl today, breaking all the rules... so i think you need to wait a little.”
he slowly lets go of the fabric, but his hand doesn't leave. instead, his long fingers begin to lightly trace the very edge of your soaked panties, feeling the slick heat of your wetness seeping through the cloth onto his fingertips. he hovers right over your center, brushing against you but not quite, giving you just enough phantom friction to make your toes curl, but entirely denying you the actual release you're starting to crave.
your body was now squirming helplessly beneath his palms as you try to force yourself against his hand to get more pressure, but he ruthlessly keeps his fingers just a millimeter away. “fuck you, either touch me or let me go, don't be a jerk—”
“oh i'm not being a jerk yet, (name).” caleb pants, another rough chuckle breaking through his serious expression while he watches you twist and writhe under his touch. his own erection is throbbing madly against your back, but he keeps his hips still. “will you admit defeat and tap out if i be a jerk to you, then?” he punctuates that sentence with a tentative press of his index finger into your hole through the panty.
your fingers are practically tearing into the fabric of the sofa cushion already, the adrenaline from earlier turning into a suffocating dread that makes your throat dry.
with a quiet tug, caleb’s fingers hook into the edge of your damp underwear, sliding the cotton fabric to the side.
“caleb...” your voice is a tiny squeak against the dark velvet of the couch. your hips instinctively try to lift, a sudden panic flaring in your chest. “what... what are you doing?”
but he doesn't stop. the cool air hits your bare folds for a fraction of a second before the tip of his finger presses directly against your entrance. you let out a ragged hitch of air as he slowly pushes past the tight ring of your muscles and sinking into your slick warmth.
“this... this doesn't count as anything, right?”
caleb’s broad chest is heaving violently against your shoulder blades, his entire frame shuddering as he buries his finger deeper inside you. “it’s just... it’s just a finger, (name). we're just playing the game. all of this... it's just about making each other tap out. it's not... whatever else it could be?”
you can feel the desperate lie he's spinning, his own mind scrambling to build a bridge back to sanity even while he’s stretching you open.
“it doesn't count,” he pants, his thumb pressing hard against your hypersensitive clit, making your toes curl inside your socks. “it doesn't count as long as i'm... as long as i'm not using my cock, right? we're still just us. we haven't crossed anything.”
you gulp, because a part of your brain screams at you to twist around and slap him, to scream what the actual fuck is wrong with you? but the guilt is a leaden weight sitting right on your chest. you were the one who started it. you were the one who put his dick in your mouth just to prove a point. you are just as dirty, just as guilty as he is.
“yeah,” you whisper, your voice thick with a dirty shame as you shut your eyes tight. “yeah... that makes sense. it's just... it's just a game.”
caleb then slides a second finger right alongside the first, the sudden invasion stretching your tight walls as he begins to slowly and deeply thrust inside you.
squelch. squelch.
the wet sounds of his fingers sliding through your excess moisture fills the quiet living room, explicit and loud enough to make your face burn a shade of red.
“(name)...” caleb murmurs, and it's the exact same tone he uses when he's giving you advice on your chores or asking about your classes, but his fingers are currently buried inside your vagina, driving you insane. “have you ever put your own finger in it?”
your lips press together so hard they turn white. you want to lie, you want to bite your tongue, but the mind-numbing pleasure of his thrusts is making your defenses completely crumble. “y-yeah, a... a few times only. when you weren't home.”
caleb picks up the pace slightly, the wet squelching sound getting faster, deeper, his knuckles rubbing against your bare skin.
“did it... did it feel like this?” he asks quietly, his voice shy, almost innocent, like a boy asking for help with his homework, even as his hips heavy-press against your backside. “does it feel better when i do it?”
the duality of this guy is completely ridiculous. it’s terrifying. one second he's caging you like a predator, and the next he’s whispering sweet clumsy questions like he's still the boy from your childhood. you can't even answer him anymore; you're just a flushed panting mess.
pop.
but caleb hooks his fingers out of your heat, making an involuntary whine escape your throat before you can even think to choke it down. your hips instinctively jerk backward, chasing the feeling of his fingers, but your hands only find the empty velvet of the backrest. why the hell did he stop?
behind you, the rustle of heavy fabric is loud. the weight on your lower back vanishes as caleb steps backward onto the wooden floorboards. “no need to tap out anymore, 'cause oh my goodness i'm going to be late,”
by the time you manage to push yourself up on your trembling elbows, your limbs feeling like melted wax, caleb is already completely upright. his joggers are pulled back up, the dark grey waistband of his boxers now neatly hidden away.
he looks down at you, and an infuriatingly soft smile touches his lips—the exact look he gives you when he’s being the responsible one.
“we should really get going, pipsqueak,” caleb says softly, as if his fingers hadn't just been swirling over your pussy. he reaches down, casually picking up his heavy sports duffel bag from the floor and slinging it over his broad shoulder. “i'm going to be horribly late for practice if we don't move right now. go adjust your clothes.”
you just stare up at him from the sofa, your mouth slightly open. you looked dumbfounded, your brain becoming incapable of processing how a guy can go from driving two thick fingers into your soaking womanhood to checking his watch like a middle-aged accountant.
—
the afternoon does not care about your identity crisis.
you had ended up having to visit granny all by yourself in the halls of the nursing home. the very second the two of you had stepped out to the car, caleb’s phone had erupted into a series of vibrations—his coach's caller id flashing like a warning flare. the muffled shouting through the receiver about missing the championship preparations had left caleb looking genuinely stressed, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel. he had dropped you off at the facility with an apologetic squeeze of your shoulder, leaving you to sit by granny’s bedside alone, nodding blankly while the old woman prattled on about the hospital soup and how caleb was such a good, responsible boy for taking care of you.
if only you knew, granny. if only you knew.
by the time you finally drag your feet onto the university campus for your late-day lectures, your mind is a useless swamp of static. you sit in the rows of the amphitheater, the professor's voice about cellular pathology washing right over your head like white noise.
every time the professor speaks, all your brain can register is the memory of caleb's deep and ruined moans echoing against the walls of your shared home. your fingers keep absentmindedly tracing the edge of your desk, your lower body still feeling a ghostly throb from the wet squelch of caleb's fingers stretching you open.
and by the time six o'clock arrives, the heavy tropical heat of the campus grounds is finally beginning to cool down.
usually, this is the hour where caleb’s long shadow appears beside yours at the main gates, his heavy arm slinging over your shoulder to drag you toward the terminal while he complains about how hungry he is. the habit of him is a deeply rooted thing in your bones. instead of turning right toward the exit to head straight home to an empty house, your feet lazily, almost sub-consciously, steer you left toward the concrete structure of the university gymnasium.
as you slip inside, taking a quiet seat on the very edge of the lowest wooden bleacher, the vast space is alive with a scattering of echoing noises. on the far brightly lit side of the court, a bunch of cheerleaders are practicing their stunts, and a few stray students are still lingering on the higher bleachers.
but your eyes immediately drift to the opposite free side of the court.
there, sitting in a circle directly on the polished wood, is the university's basketball team. their coach is standing over them with a clipboard, his sharp whistle tucked between his lips as he gestures aggressively toward a diagram. and right in the center of the huddle, his long legs splayed out in front of him, is caleb. he’s wearing his dark blue practice jersey, broad shoulders glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, a giant water bottle gripped in his large hand as he listens intently to the lecture.
he looks so regular like that, so athletic. so completely like the golden boy the entire school admires. you pull your knees up to your chest, wondering how on earth you're supposed to walk home with him after what he did to you this morning.
caleb is nodding along, his hand idly spinning the basketball between his palms on the floor, looking every bit the disciplined athlete. then, his eyes wander. he’s just scanning the empty spaces of the court, a subconscious habit of checking his surroundings, when his gaze drifts up toward the lower bleachers.
and lands squarely on you.
for a long second, neither of you knew how to react. the teasing grin he usually flashes when he spots you in a crowd doesn't happen. he just takes you in, his fingers freezing against the leather of the basketball. you just stare at each other, the secret weight of the morning—the wet sounds, the moaning, the taste of his dick—crashing into the space between you like a physical wall.
caleb looks away quickly, his throat bobbing as he downs a huge gulp from his water bottle, his broad shoulders tensing up as he tries to focus back on the clipboard.
five minutes later, the coach blows his whistle twice. “all right, pack it up! managers, get the training cones back in the locker. caleb, you're on equipment duty tonight since you were late this morning. secure the loose balls and the extra jerseys from the bench.”
“got it, coach,” caleb grunts, pushing himself up from the floor.
the team starts dispersing, heading toward the showers in an echoing wave of laughter and low chatter. caleb begins gathering the stray basketballs into a mesh sack, and as he nears the bleachers where you're sitting, he just stops a few feet away, slinging the heavy sack over his shoulder.
“hey,” caleb's shadow falls over your sneakers. “(name). stop being lazy and help me carry these jerseys to the storage room. coach wants a head count before the after-party tomorrow, and i'm not doing it alone.”
you blink. “can't your co-captain do it?”
“he's already in the showers,” caleb says, finally cutting his eyes toward you, a subtle, desperate intensity flickering in his gaze that makes your stomach flip. “come on. the quicker we finish, the quicker we go home. go grab the bin.”
you purse your lips, but you slide off the bleacher anyway. you grab the plastic bin filled with damp jerseys, your heart already starting to throb a frantic rhythm against your ribs as you follow his massive back toward the dark hallway at the rear of the gym.
the storage room door is heavy iron, creaking loudly as caleb pushes it open. the inside smells like old rubber, canvas bags, and dust, lit only by the faint orange glow of the twilight filtering through a barred window. you step inside, the plastic bin heavy in your arms.
“where do you want these—”
slam!
the door cuts your voice off completely as caleb shoves it shut behind you. within a snap, his large hands snap around your waist and lifts you off your feet, pinning your back directly against the solid wood of the door.
“caleb, what the—”
and your mouth is instantly smothered.
caleb drives his lips against yours with an aggressive hunger, his head tilting sharply to lock his mouth over yours. it’s a messy, bruising kiss, completely devoid of the hesitation he had this morning. he lets out a desperate whine against your lips—nhhh—his fingers digging like iron claws into your hips, pulling your lower body flush against his jersey.
“fuck,” caleb groans directly into your mouth, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. he tastes like the cool mint from earlier and the salty heat of his sweat, his jaw working against yours as if he's been starving for this for the last seven hours. “i couldn't... i couldn't even think during our practice, you know. coach wouldn't stop screaming at me but all i could see was you bent over the couch.”
“caleb—stop, someone's gonna—mmph—” you try to speak, your hands frantically coming up to push against his broad chest, but the sheer mass of him traps you.
“let them hear,” his hips slam forward instinctively, driving his hard erection—already straining madly through his gym shorts—directly into your thigh. “i don't care. i don't care about it. you can't just... nh... fuck, you were all i could think about today—”
“you were the one who stopped,” you gasp out, your fingers subconsciously tangling into the damp hair at the back of his neck. “you acted like... like nothing happened, and then you left me alone... you idiot.”
“i was scared...” caleb cries out softly, his voice a ruined whisper before he brings his mouth back up to cover yours, thumbs tracing the bare skin of your waist beneath your shirt “i'm supposed to protect you, but all i want to do is rip these clothes off you right now and pound inside you until you can't even stand up.“ a guilty laugh slips past his lips. “shit, am i allowed to say that?...”
your heart is a wild thing, hammering so hard against your ribs it feels like it might burst through your skin. “caleb—”
the rest of your breath is completely stolen when his calloused hands hook into the waistband of your underwear. there is no gentle hesitation this time, no restraint left to save either of you. with one downward tug, the fabric is stripped away, bundling around your sneakers along with your shorts.
he doesn't even take his jersey off. his dark blue varsity uniform is damp with sweat, the rough material scraping against your bare chest as he uses his body weight to pin you flat against the wood. with a trembling hand, caleb reaches down between your laps, his long fingers finding your soaking, swollen entrance. he doesn't need to prep you; you are already dripping, ruined from hours of thinking about his touch.
he aligns the angry head of his cock right against your opening. he is so incredibly huge—a terrifyingly solid length that makes your stomach drop in a mixture of fear and desperate longing.
“(name)... look at me. just look at me,” caleb whimpers, his voice completely cracked and ruined. “i can't... i can't hold back anymore. i'm going to cross this line now.”
before you can even utter a sound, caleb grips your hips like iron vices and drives his hips forward.
“ahhh!”
a high-pitched gasp is ripped from your lungs as the stretching length of his dick forces its way inside you in one thrust. it's a tight, bruising fit, your walls screaming at the sudden fullness of him while he buries himself all the way to his hilt, his lower belly slamming hard against your pelvis.
caleb lets out a shattering groan that sounds like a sob, his head instantly dropping forward into the crook of your neck. his hot breath scalds your skin, and you can feel the wet smudge of tears mixing with the sweat on his face. he is crying into your shoulder, panting like a dying man, his entire broad frame shuddering violently against you.
“ffckk... nhhh... you're so tight, it's so hot,” caleb opens your thighs wider just so he can pound into you much, much faster. “i've... i've thought about this every single night.... every time you smiled at me... every time you fell asleep.... i've wanted to do this so fucking bad...”
caleb grips your thighs, hoisting your leg up until it was wrapped tightly around his broad waist, and begins to fuck you desperately against the iron door.
thud. thud. thud.
the heavy wood rattles on its hinges with every brutal stride of his lower body. caleb drives into you as if he is angry—furious at you for making him wait this long, furious at himself for breaking the rules, and desperate to mark every single inch of your inside. he doesn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just plunges deep, his thick shaft sliding through your tight squelching wetness.
“caleb—ah!—stop, it's too deep—nhhh!” you moan out loud, your head thrashing against the door behind you. your hands leave his shoulders and wrap around his damp hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to find some anchor as his massive cock relentlessly reorganizes your insides. you can't even think straight anymore, his dick is leaving you with nothing but the raw urge to take his size and beg for more.
“not stopping,” caleb grunts against your ear, it makes your thigh squeeze tighter around his waist. he tilts his head upward, jaw clenched so hard the tendons in his neck look like wires under his skin. his eyelashes flutter, his eyes half-closed and ghost-blinking as he loses himself entirely to the pleasure. “fuck, why didn't we d-do this sooner?”
he thrusts into you even deeper, his hips rolling with a newfound precision that hits a sensitive spot deep within your womb.
“hnggh, caleb, deeper, deeper...!”
“what was that, huh?” caleb suddenly pulls out, bringing your legs down.
“what are you... a-are you going to leave me again?”
he smirks, pressing a kiss against your forehead while you felt the wamrth of his hands grabbing your right leg to hoist it up high - up, up, and up - until you're now sideways, leg stretched open and high enough that your ankle was an inch away from caleb's face. “deeper, right?” in a second, he drives his cock back into your hole, this time making sure that every thrust he gave you was a slap on the womb.
“ahngh, caleb!—”
the orange twilight through the barred window slowly deepens into a thick midnight blue, but the desperate rhythm inside the storage room doesn't stop.
for the next few hours, the university gymnasium becomes completely empty, the lights on the court turning off one by one until the only sound left in the entire concrete structure is the repetitive rattle of the iron storage door. caleb completely loses his composure, his body moving on pure instinct while he continues to drive his length into your soaking heat over and over again.
the dynamic between you never truly changes, even as the skin of your hips turns a deep, flushed pink from the iron grip of his palms. every time he tries to pull that annoying tone to tell you to take his size, his voice shatters into a pathetically high-pitched whine the second your tight walls squeeze him. you don't let him have the satisfaction of total victory either; even when your legs are trembling so hard you can barely keep them still, you still find the breath to mock his stuttering moans, driving your fingers into his damp hair to yank him down into bruising, messy kisses.
by the time caleb finally collapses against your chest, his chest heaving as he spills his fourth climax deep inside your womb, the moon is already high over the campus grounds. he stays buried inside you for a long time in the dark, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he whimpers out how much he hates you for completely ruining his brain. you just hold onto his sweaty back, your chin resting on his damp jersey, knowing that the comfortable childhood bubble you both lived in is gone forever—and neither of you has any intention of tapping out.
as god is my witness i am obsessed with himbo!jake | ⚠︎ ── smut, reader is kind of shallow |
You’ve always wondered how Jake manages to tie his own shoelaces, let alone navigate a university campus. Being a 4.0 GPA student means your life is curated and extremely precise and being Jake's secret hookup means you are just one slip up away from social suicide.
If your friends, the ones who treat dumb jocks like a separate or lower species saw him walking into your dorm, you'd never hear the end of it. You'd be a laughing stock cause you shouldn't even be caught dead with someone like him, yet the second the door to your room shuts, it’s like your brain cells stop counting.
Jake is absolutely devoid of any intellectual depth. Sometimes you watch him stare at the microwave for two minutes, genuinely waiting for it to tell him the time and you wonder if he was accepted here because he's an athlete or because the admissions office had a clerical error. But then the clothes come off and it's like his brain shuts down completely to reroute every ounce of his energy into his body.
He's an athlete with the kind of stamina that feels almost illegal, somehow you believe he actually doesn't think during sex, he doesn't have the capacity for it and that's why it’s so good. When he fucks you, he doesn’t do it with any finesse or romantic buildup, it’s more with the scary accuracy of a man who just knows how to fuck. He’ll have you in a mating press that pins the air right out of your chest, pressing his chest to yours.
He’ll maintain a pace that's unforgiving, an absolute marathoner's drive that leaves you sobbing, gripping the sheets and begging for him to stop or slow down just so you can breathe. He’ll make you squirt and then just keep going, fucking you so hard your vision tunnels and you black out for those precious seconds where your entire consciousness is just his name and the delicious drag of him inside you.
Mid fuck, as he's slamming into you with the same focus he uses to play football, he’ll suddenly slow his hips into a devastating grind that has you squirting all over his cock and pelvis but he doesn’t even notice and if he does, he doesn’t care cause he’s too busy pouting down at you.
"You're so mean to me," he whines in a strange mix of arousal and genuine hurt. "I saw you in the quad earlier and I—I waved and you—your pussy is amazing, babe—you just looked right at me and just...kept walking. You didn't even say hi."
You try to gasp out a response, maybe to tell him that acknowledging him in front of your dean’s list friends would be your social death but you can't get the words out. Every time you try to inhale, he just thrusts again so deep and hard, pounding the breath right out of your lungs.
Your head goes slack against the pillows and your moans are reduced to pathetic whimpers as he keeps fucking the sense right out of your head but he doesn't even care that you can't answer, it’s like he just keeps punishing you for being mean, his pout will turn into a focused snarl so he loses himself in your pussy again.
When he's finally done draining himself in your spent pussy, you’ve cum at least four times and his entire chest is wet and sticky from all your squirt and cum, he doesn't have the sense to ask if you liked it, it’s like he knows you did from how you lay there limp and still whimpering. He just collapses on top of you, looking like a content animal and it’s in these moments that he gets dangerous because he starts feeling emotions like he’s catching feelings again and when Jake feels emotions, he always tries to express them.
He brushes the hair off your forehead and he sighs.
"I'm really sick of the hiding, baby. Seriously. Let's just tell everyone. Let's go to the quad tomorrow and just...be us, you know? I don't want to be your little secret anymore. I want people to know we're like, the ultimate power couple."
A part of you wants to tell him you’re not even a couple but another part of you feels a sting of guilt, looking at his handsome but so vacant face, thinking maybe you're the shallow one for keeping him this hidden. You start to soften, ready to maybe suggest holding hands on the way to class and talking in the dining hall may not be so bad but then he continues and you watch his forehead furrow with genuine concern.
"Oh!, babe, I forgot to tell you this," he pipes up, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "I've been checking my bank app all weekend because I can't find my wallet anywhere. It's super weird, though. The bank keeps taking like, fifty or hundred bucks out of my account every few hours. I guess that's just, like, the bank taking the money out to keep it safe for me in the vault so I don't lose it if I lose my card? Pretty smart of them, right?"
The silence that follows is thick enough for you to choke on. You can only stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s just joking, waiting for him to tell you he knows that's just unauthorized charges from whoever stole his debit card but he's just smiling, genuinely pleased with how safe his money is.
You realize with a crushing sense of defeat, that you are absolutely never going public with him, at least not anytime soon. You just sigh and pull the sheets up over your face, managing to reach over to grab your clothes. "Yeah, Jake," you mutter into the fabric, already bracing yourself for the reality that his body is the only thing he'll ever be a genius at.
"I suggest you keep that bank situation to yourself. We're staying a secret until we graduate."
nene’s note ── stop i love himmm, y/n why so mean to poor jakey?🥺
You little brother just doesn't know any better. Or does he?
cw: pseudo!incest, didi caleb/jiejie mc, dub!con, fleshlight usage, thighjob, pussyjob, breastplay, insecure mc, caleb is pushy, mc is an idiot, mentions of grooming (roommates being assholes), FUTURE NON!CON (you've been warned)
important poll at the end!
“Your boyfriend is here.” You hear your roommate's singsong voice the second you push open the apartment door, keys still dangling from your fingers.
You blink, confused as you stare at your three roommates gathered on the couch in the small living room. “What?”
Dan rolls his eyes as if he has no time for your silly denials. “Caleb. The pretty high school boy who follows you around like a lovesick puppy begging for a treat.”
“He doesn’t—” The denial dies on your tongue, and heat floods your cheeks. You keep forgetting that Caleb’s stupid lie had taken on a life of its own between your roommates who have completely fallen for it, the little menace more than happy to play it up for them every time he visits.
“I don’t know.” Your other roommate, Lena, chimes in, pausing her doomscrolling on her phone to smirk up at you. “The walls are pretty thin, and I can definitely hear him whining ‘please, jiejie, please please’ every time he comes over.”
Your face burns so hot you fear it will melt off. “Shut up.”
But she doesn’t. She leans forward, a wicked little smile on her lips. “You know, I’m not into younger guys… especially not high school boys.” She makes a face, her derisive tone pressing painfully into your ribs, trying to get at your sick heart. “But if my boytoy was cooking my food, cleaning my room, and giving me dick that good, I wouldn’t say no. Especially not to a face as pretty as his.”
You want the ground to well up and swallow you whole. “I don’t think this is appropriate—”
You’re not close to your roommates, certainly not close enough for this sort of… banter. You’re cordial yes, but they seem to be much closer to each other than they were to you. You’ve always struggled to make friends, your younger brother far surpassing you in that regard. He always overshadowed you. People always flocked to him, and you didn’t begrudge him for it—not everyone can be as amazing as your little brother, even you.
But still you had hoped you’d be able to branch out and make friends now that you’ve moved out of your childhood home and your every waking moment didn’t need to be dedicated to him—in fact it was good for him that it wasn’t.
But those hopes are long dead and buried. Caleb refused to let you go. He has followed you out of your home and into this new life you thought you could forge for yourself, and did it better than you like always.
Though your roommates regarded you with barely veiled judgement for apparently romancing a teenage boy, they of course did not project that same judgement on him. In their eyes, he was this vibrant, lovable, brilliant boy who fell into the trap of a predatory older woman.
You get it. You really do. You’d think the same if you were them, but how can you explain yourself without making everything worse? No, that would only ruin both you and your brother’s lives. The year is almost over anyway, you just have to bear it for a little while longer… you just wish Caleb didn’t love playing the role of the hapless young boy in love with the older woman so much—maybe that’s even how he saw himself, your foolish didi.
“Yeah, he’s definitely too young for me too.” Your other roommate, Mia, snorts loudly. “But if you ever decide to rent him out, I’d love to sample whatever he’s cooking. Maybe take him to class with me one day. He’s so big and buff I can probably get him to intimidate that asshole professor into giving me that A I deserve.”
“Oh yeah, I nearly shit my pants that first day when he came in all mad about the house being too much of a mess for his precious jiejie.” Dan laughs then looks at you sideways. “You really got the poor guy wrapped around your little finger. You must be riding his dick good.”
Every word of praise Caleb gets is juxtaposed with looks of derision and judgement thrown at you, and you can practically hear what they’re thinking—-What’s wrong with her? Can’t she find a boyfriend her own age? How long has she even known him for? This year? Last year? Since he was a kid?
“Oh, I bet that’s big too.” Lina giggles, “Does he know how to use it or do you have to do all the work, jiejie?”
You feel sick. You want to slap her, scream at them all, forbid them from ever talking about you or Caleb ever again. They don’t know the half of it. Who are they to judge? They don’t understand! You’re doing this for him!
You hear their voices screaming loudly in your head, and you wish you could defend yourself. You wish you could tell them the truth—that you’re trying your best to stop this relationship, but that would only transform their judgement into condemnation, their disgust into horror.
Her own little brother? What did she do to him? How could he have turned out this way?
Their reactions now are nothing compared to what would happen if the truth ever gets out. You know that.
And yet every accusatory look and pointed word they throw at you lands on your chest like a stone, stacking one over the other, crushing you under them. They don’t know how many times you’ve told yourself this has to stop, only for Caleb’s tears and soft little pleas to break you.
You’d do anything to make this stop.
Caleb on the other hand is reveling in it.
He walks into the room just then, a large grin on his face, laughing off their banter as if they’re old friends. He’s been hanging around your roommates more and more now, when at the start he’d do anything to get you alone. He’s enjoying the boyfriend act too much. He loves that he gets to kiss you and touch you and love on you right in the open. You tell him it’s natural that when you love someone you want to show off that love and that’s why it feels good to him but that’s the only reason why—that when he finds a girlfriend he’ll see that doing all these things with her will feel just as good, better even! But Caleb brushes you off, mumbling about how silly his jiejie is and how he’ll never want to do this with anyone else.
“I can cook for you guys, and I can definitely give that professor a piece of your mind, Mia.” Caleb says, stepping up behind you and wrapping you in his arms. “But my dick is only—”
“Caleb!” You hiss, smacking his hands off you.
“I’m kidding, jie.” He laughs, the others laughing with him—laugh at you. Is he doing this on purpose just to humiliate you? Punish you for being such a worthless big sister?
Seeing red, you shove him into your room, Dan’s voice ringing out just as you slam the door shut. “Don’t wear him out too much, jiejie!”
“What the hell was that, brat?” You hiss at him.
“Just messing around with our friends, jiejie.” He pouts at your outrage.
“They’re not our friends!” You whisper shout, “They’re not your friends and they’re certainly not my friends.”
“Not with that attitude.” He quips and you glare at him. “You think this is funny? Do you not see the way they look at me because they think we’re together? They look at me like I fucking groomed you!”
His eyes widen at that. “They don’t. We’re all just having fun—”
“At my expense! But it’s fine for you because you're the victim and I’m the predator, right?”
“No!” He shakes his head harshly. “I didn’t know—”
“Of course not. You are too busy playing house to see the way they really look at us..” You grit, “Do you have any idea what they’ll do and say to me if they find out you’re my little brother?”
“They won’t know.” He vows, “I won’t tell, I promise.”
“Oh, you promise?” You bark out a laugh, “What about your promise to get into college and date a girl? Instead you’re spending all your time here, making a joke out of me.”
“I am studying hard, I swear! I’m top of my class, you know that.” He reasons with you, then hesitates, “As for the girlfriend thing… I told you I’m not confident enough yet.”
Of course. This bullshit again.
Caleb has been relentless about this for weeks—not being ready, needing you to guide him, refusing to even date until he’s sure he can satisfy a girl fully. He has already kissed you, ate you out, fingered you—but he still wants more. He wants sex… and he’s adamant that only your pussy will do.
It’s the only part of you that you haven’t sacrificed for him yet, and you can’t bring yourself to. It’s wrong. All of this is wrong but having sex… crossing that line in the sand, it would make it all real—your unforgivable sin.
“You don’t need to be a sex god to get a girlfriend, Caleb.” You tell him impatiently.
“I’m not asking to be a sex god but you saw for yourself how bad I was.” The words come out of his mouth painfully, and that ugly look of self-doubt is on his face again. “What if I can’t make my girlfriend cum? What if she laughs at me the second I push inside her and I finish in two seconds like some pathetic loser?”
“You’ll live. Plenty of guys out there never make their girlfriends cum and they’re dating just fine.”
Caleb scoffs, staring at you incredulously. “How can you say that, jiejie? You want your baby brother to be known as the loser who can’t even satisfy his own girl? That’s so mean.”
An ugly part of you almost says yes—why should you teach him how to perform just so he would go and please some other girl? Why does she get to reap what you’ve shed tears and blood to sow?
But the thought is vile. Monstrous. You swallow it down your throat and hope to never taste it on your tongue again.
Instead you reach for him, pulling him in by the collar and kissing him before he can whine again. He melts instantly, a hungry little noise slipping from him as he kisses you back like he’s been waiting for it all this time.
You push him backward until his knees hit your bed and he topples onto it, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. “I love it when you manhandle me, jie.”
“Should I gag you too?” You huff, eyebrows raised.
A look of panic overtakes his face and he shakes his head so fast his hair flops into his eyes. “No, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you.”
You almost laugh. Caleb loves running his mouth. Of course, he doesn’t like the idea of a gag.
“Promise?” You lean over him, one hand braced on the bed beside him. He immediately leans in, trying to chase your lips, but you press a palm flat to his chest, holding him down. “Caleb?”
“Huh?” His gaze is locked onto your mouth, not paying attention to anything you’ve said.
“Promise you’ll be a good boy.”
“I promise.” He whines, biting his own lip. “I’ll be so, so good, jiejie. Please—”
But you don’t give him mercy, partly because this is one of the few times the brat will actually listen to you and partly because you enjoy this part more than you’d ever admit. “Promise you’ll listen.”
“I promise.” He whines again, practically squirming on the bed, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips again and again. “I’ll listen to everything. Just… please.”
“Good boy.” You straighten up and step back.
The second you pull away he lets out a broken whimper, his hands reaching to try to stop you. “Where are you going, jie? I promised, didn’t I? You can’t leave me like this.”
You scoff, ignoring him and walking towards your closet. When has his promises meant anything? He’ll say anything in the moment just to get his dick wet but haggle and bargain when it’s time for you to collect the fee.
You crouch down, reaching for the back of your closet and dig out a plain black box containing an item you’d purchased just for this occasion. You knew Caleb wouldn’t give up on this whole sex idea, and you also knew you were not going to give in either. So this little toy was your way to shut him up.
“I got you something, baby.” You grin as you carry it back to the bed. “Since you won’t shut up about learning how to have sex, I thought this might help you practice.”
Caleb’s thick eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, watching suspiciously as you open the box and pull out the realistic looking fleshlight, sputtering like an idiot when it comes into full view.
“W-what is that, jiejie?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what it is. I’m sure you’re seen one of these in that porn that has rotted your brain.” You mumble, “It’s a fleshlight. A pocket pussy. Something for you to fuck and get in that practice.”
“Seiously, jiejie?” He huffs, looking at the item in offense. “Buying your didi this perverted toy instead of taking care of me like a good big sister?”
You laugh incredulously. “Practicing with this toy is a hundred times less perverted than trying to use your own sister’s pussy to learn to have sex, brat.”
“But I want my sister’s pussy.” He whines, “I only want jiejie’s pussy… please? I’ll be so gentle, I swear on everything. Just once. I need you so bad it actually hurts, jie. Don’t do this to me…”
“I’m not doing anything to you. I’ve done nothing but give into your desires despite my better judgement but I am not budging on this.” You say, firmer than you feel. “No matter how much you cry about it, brat. It’s either this or nothing.”
Caleb’s lower lip justs out. “Then at least let me finger you?” He begs, both hands reaching for you. “Please, jiejie? I need to practice on the real thing. This toy won’t feel right. It won’t be warm or soft and it won’t make all the pretty noises you do.” His eyes glaze over, and you know the pervert is recalling those exact memories. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Just let me feel you…”
“I want you to finger this.” You answer, holding the toy out and pointing the soft entrance toward him.
He shakes his head vehemently. “Why do I have to touch that when you’re right here? It’s not fair…You're so close and warm and pretty and it’s driving me crazy. Please don’t make me use a toy. I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be your perfect boy…”
How can he be your perfect boy when he won’t even listen to anything you ask him to do? Still, you know your brother. You anticipated his resistance, and you have an idea that might tempt him.
You grab the lube despite his protests and squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers before you start touching the toy yourself—slowly swirling your slick fingers around the soft lips and clit in little circles designed to look inviting. “See baby? This is how you should touch a girl to make her feel good.”
Caleb’s breath hitches as he watches, and you know you’ve got his attention despite the way his brows furrow. “I don’t…”
“You just rub around here slowly just like I taught you, getting her nice and relaxed and wet for you.” You purr, feeling your own pussy start to tingle.
“I know. You moan so prettily when I rub your little clit, jie.” He groans, his pants tightening. “I wanna touch it so bad.”
“Pretend this is me, baby.” You offer, running your fingers up and down the slit. “Touch it how you want to touch me.” You know you shouldn’t encourage him like this, but it’s the only way he’ll give in.
But he still resists. “But it’s not you. It’s not even the same color as your skin.”
You freeze then, suddenly painfully self-conscious, and say in a small voice. “I said imagine, Caleb. Besides… my pussy is a little darker than the rest of me anyway.”
His breath hitches sharply and he sits up straighter, listening intently.
“Yeah?” He breathes, squirming. “It looks like that? Tell me more, jiejie, please? No—show me. I wanna see so bad. I know yours will be perfect. Prettier than anything. Just once? I’ll die if you don’t show me. Please, jiejie… I’ll be so, so good if you let me look…”
You shake your head, excitement and anxiety churning in your stomach. Despite how wrong this whole thing is, it’s nice to think that he’s this excited to just get a glimpse of you, and that maybe he might even think that part of you is pretty… but you shouldn’t, and it’s not just because it’s wrong.
You’re scared you’d see a look of disappointment or even repulsion in his eyes. It’s not that you think you’re ugly down there. You know vaginas come in all shapes and sizes, but you also know it’s not the perfect little pink petal he’s used to seeing in his porn, and a less than enthusiastic reaction would forever scar you.
“This is my pussy, remember?” You say, redirecting his attention as you bring the fleshlight down and press the length of it against your lower belly. You angle it with the entrance facing down so that from Caleb’s view it looks exactly like you’re touching yourself.
“I feel so empty, baby…” You moan, pushing one finger inside the tight toy, gasping softly as if the toy were actually you. But you’re all empty, clenching around nothing, while you fuck the toy with your finger. Your hips rock in a slow grind against the silicone and the mattress, letting the motion make the illusion even filthier.
“Jiejie… fuck—” Caleb groans, eyes locked on your face while his hand palms his fully hard cock through his pants.
You keep going, coaxing him closer with every sound you make. “You want to please your girlfriend, don’t you, baby?” Another soft, needy moan escapes as you curl your finger inside the toy and rub circles over the little silicone clit with your thumb. “You have to learn how to make her feel good… how to stretch her open… how to get her dripping and desperate for you.”
The words burn on your tongue, but you swallow down the shame. This is for him. All of it. Once he gets the hang of it, once he runs out of excuses and finally finds a real girlfriend who can give him everything he’s begging for, this will stop.
Caleb makes a broken, desperate sound and pushes forward, mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue slides against yours as his hand replaces yours on the fleshlight, long fingers rubbing the silicone eagerly.
“Yes, yes, I want that so bad.” He pants against your lips, trembling with need. “Can I do it, jiejie? Can I finger you? All the way this time?”
You nod, heart hammering in your ribcage. “Yes, baby. But go slow.”
He groans and pushes one thick finger into the slick toy. His eyes never leave your face, watching every micro-expression as if he would see you react to the intrusion. And you do. You feel the phantom finger as he slowly pumps in and out, curling exactly the way you showed him, the wet, obscene sounds of it filling the quiet room.
“Fuck… so tight.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours, breath coming out hot and fast. “Is this how you’d feel inside? So wet and tight for me, jiejie?”
Heat floods your core so suddenly you have to bite your lip to keep the loud moan contained. “Deeper.” You pant, voice hoarse. “Add another finger, didi. Stretch me out.”
His eyes burn with hunger and he slides a second finger into you—into the toy. His thumb circles the clit in eager clumsy strokes as the wet squelch of his fingers grows faster. You can see the front of his pants twitching, his cock straining hard against the fabric, and the sight sends another helpless rush of heat through you.
“You’re such a tease, jie,” Caleb groans, voice strained and his fingers set a wild pace. “Know how much I want you, torturing me like this…”
“Gentle, baby. It’s too much.” You grab his wrist, slowing his movements down and guiding him, trying to not let him get too into his own head. “Don’t be too rough. It’s sensitive.”
“Sorry…” His cheeks flush a deeper, prettier red, lids drooping heavy with lust. “I’m just… really excited. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long.”
You bite your lip, trying not to think too much about what he’s saying. It’s all hormones and misplaced lust. You’ll prove it to him… and to yourself. You just have to show him the way.
His two fingers pump steadily into the fleshlight now, while his thumb continues to circle the silicone clit in fervent strokes. “Fuck, jiejie…It’s sucking me in so tightly like it doesn’t want to let go. Is this how your pussy would feel? This hot and wet around my fingers? God, makes me want you even more.”
Fuck.
Your empty cunt twitches at his words, clenching around nothing even as your mind spirals and your heart drowns in guilt. But in this moment, your pussy is the one in control and you can’t stop the way your hips rock in tiny motions in response, grinding yourself against the toy that is swallowing his fingers in your place.
Caleb’s eyes widen at the frustrated whine that leaves your mouth, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “You like it, jiejie? Do you like my fingers inside you like this? Tell me… please. I need to know how to make you feel good.”
“Already feel so good, didi…” You cry out, barely in control of the words leaving your mouth. “Filling me up so good…”
The second the praise leaves your lips, Caleb loses it. He rushes forward, one hand still buried in the fleshlight as he pushes you flat onto your back. “I can’t wait anymore, jiejie… I’m sorry—I’ll be a good boy next time, I swear. But I need it now. I’ve been waiting so long…”
His free hand fumbles with the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock, so thick and flushed dark. It looks painful and you almost feel sorry for him.
He lines himself up with the toy, making sure it’s still pressed tight against your lower belly, in line with your pussy. “Can I put it in now?” Can I fuck you, please? You got me so horny, I’m gonna explode.”
“Slow—” You barely start to say before he sinks into the toy, letting out a strangled noise as he bottoms out. The motion rocks the fleshlight against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that makes your back arch.
His free hand grabs your thigh, hiking it up around his waist as he sets a fast pace immediately, hips snapping forward in desperate strokes as if he’s actually fucking you.
“Caleb!” You shout, your body jostled back and forth with every thrust of his hips, one had curling in his hair and pulling at it tightly. “I said slow!”
If he was really fucking you, your pussy would have been destroyed.
“Sorry, sorry—can’t help it—-” He cries but doesn’t stop, his hand on your hip keeping your leg locked around him and his own hips driving you into the bed, trapping you under him. You can do nothing but stare up at his large frame blocking out the rest of the world, his muscles tensing in his effort, sweat beading at his gorgeous skin, his face a scrunched up mask of ecstasy.
He’s so big, your little brother, that if he wanted to, he could ruin you. Instead, it’s pretty whimpers that spill from his lips and a lost, helpless look in his eyes as he tries to make sense of everything he’s feeling. Your baby looks at you like a feral beast and you’re the one holding his leash.
“Jiejie… fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.” He gasps, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his hot, desperate breaths fanning across your face. “Tell me I’m making you feel good—please, tell me I’m your good boy…”
The wet squelch of the toy taking his cock again and again fills your ears, every thrust grinding the base of the fleshlight every so slightly against your aching clit, teasing you with friction you don’t want and isn’t nearly enough at the same time.
You bite your lip hard, shame and heat twisting together in your belly.
“Yes, baby.” You moan, the praise spilling from your lips. “You’re doing so good… such a good boy.”
“Yeah, yeah… I’m jiejie’s good boy—fuck! Fuck, I’m so close.” A pathetic whimper tears out of him and he loses his rhythm, moans now falling freely from his mouth, bouncing off the thin walls. “I’m so sorry… so close—-can’t help it. I'm sorry—I’m sorry! Please!”
Your stomach drops, suddenly remembering that your roommates are right outside and can probably hear the way he’s screaming for you. Panicking, you grab the hem of his shirt and yank it up, stuffing it into his open mouth. “Quiet! They’ll hear you.”
He scowls, upset at the makeshift gag, and in response, he fucks the toy harder, as if he can punish you through it, his grunts and groans muffled against the now wet fabric.
“Be good, baby. You wanna be good, don’t you?”
His eyes soften ever so slightly, his moans taking on a desperate edge once more.
“That’s right. You’re my good boy. You’ll keep it down and cum in your little toy for me, won’t you?” You purr and suddenly his body locks up, his eyes widening as he sits on his haunches and yanks off the fleshlight. His hand jerks his cock a couple of times before warm sticky ropes shoot from it, landing on the bare skin of your thighs in messy lines.
You give him a moment to collect himself before you chastise him, the burn of unfulfilled desire lending heat to your words. “Caleb! I told you to stop doing tha—”
But the words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your shorts and rips them off, lifting your panties up and sliding his cock under them, trapping it between your pussy and the fabric.
“What the hell are you doing?!” You shriek as he continues manhandling you, pushing your thighs together so his cock is nice and snug between them. In a desperate motion, he pushes forward, going again before his cum has even cooled on your skin.
“Forget the stupid toy, I wanna feel you, jie. Feel your skin, your pussy—” He fucks your thighs, his cock sliding in and out between them, rubbing against your wet pussy. “This is a better way to learn to fuck, yeah? I’ll make you cum this time. I won’t disappoint you. I can take care of you.” He babbles, but you can barely fight him when the grind of his hard cock against your poor needy pussy makes stars light up behind your eyelids.
You’re so close and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s taking this out of you without permission.
“You’re being bad again, Caleb. Stop this now.” You stutter, but he shakes his head, driving his cock between your legs harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can’t think straight.” He whines, “Just one more, please? I can’t stop yet…”
His hips slap against your ass, and you’re mortified with how close to orgasm you’re getting, horrified that you might cum untouched like this.
As if he can hear your thoughts, Caleb’s hands slide under your shirt, large and greedy as they cup your breasts.
“Caleb, stop it!” You croak, hoping he would because you certainly can’t stop the way you’re arching into his hand as he kneads your soft flesh, his thumbs dragging across your painfully stiff nipples.
“They’re gonna hear you, jiejie.” Caleb pants, and your frustrated shout is the last sound you let out before Caleb’s fingers shove into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and making you drool around the digits.
“That’s it. You’re so good to me, jie. I’ll make you feel good too. I promise.” He moans, delirious, his touch overwhelming on your pussy, your chest, your mouth—it’s like he’s claiming every part of you. “I’m so close already. I can’t help myself. You drive me crazy. I’m—ah—jie, I’m gonna—”
His teeth sink into the flesh of your thigh which is propped up on his shoulder, the sharp sting overwhelming your senses until you can’t tell pleasure from pain. You press your face in the pillow, muffling your wretched cries against it as you clench around nothing, cumming untouched, your body convulsing under him.
“Fuck, did you just cum?” He groans, eyes rolling back for a moment before he splays your legs open, moving his dick so the head is completely covered by your panties, distorting the fabric as he grinds himself against your slick and sensitive flesh, overstimulating you.
Luckily, despite all your “training”, it doesn’t take much for Caleb to cum, just the obscene sight is enough to push him over the edge. He cums inside your panties, making them suddenly ten times more wet and sticky, the rest of it landing uncomfortably on your pussy.
“Fuck—” He grunts, staring right at the mess he’s made. “Can I see? Just a small peak. Wanna know what your pussy looks like covered in my cum, jie.”
You want to slap him, first for not asking for permission to cum right on your pussy then for daring to ask if he could see what he’s done… but most of all for making you so disgustingly horny that you need more.
“No.” You growl, “Take your cock out and touch me with your fingers. Get me off or I’ll never let you touch me ever again.”
His eyes widen and he quickly replaces his cock with his fingers, rubbing the lewd mess of his arousal and yours across your flesh, the pads of his fingers pressing it into your clit again and again.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy, jie.” He grunts, leaning down so he could close his mouth around your nipple poking through your shirt, sucking on it so harshly you wouldn’t have been able to push him away even if you tried.
“So sensitive…” He moans around your nipple, “Your pussy is fluttering under my fingers… Do you like it as much as I do, jie? Does it turn you on to be covered with my cum like this?”
You can only let out strangled noises which seem to satisfy neither of you. He doubles down on his effort, his fingers flicking your clit mercilessly as he sucks and kisses your breasts, leaving the fabric wet and almost see-through with his drool.
“Can I see, jiejie?” He asks urgently, his free hand bunching up your shirt. “Please wanna see them. Wanna kiss them. Bite them. Cover them in marks. Please.”
“Caleb, shut up.” You hiss, impatient and strung out.
Needing him to make you cum already, you pull your shirt up yourself, forgetting your insecurities in the heat of the moment, just needing to feel the wet heat of his lips around you.
But he just stares at you, his mouth hanging open and his fingers halting. “Wow, jiejie, you’re—”
You don’t let him finish his sentence, pushing his head down to your chest. “Be a good boy.” Is all you tell him and he’s going, his mouth wrapping around your perked nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud, his fingers rubbing your slit in tight circles that make you see white.
It doesn’t take long after that for you to reach your second orgasm, your back arching clean off the bed, your chest pushed further into his waiting and wanting mouth as your poor pussy clenches and contracts around nothing, your arousal flushing through you, only barely sating the overwhelming emptiness inside of you.
But you can’t ask for more. You can’t want more. You can’t want him. He’s your brother for god’s sake. What are you doing? What is he doing to you?
You slump back onto the bed with a groan, your heavy arms pushing at his broad shoulders, your mouth making incomprehensible noises of protest as you urge him to stop. And finally he does, removing his fingers from between your legs but his mouth stays on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple as his body slumps over yours, your sweat, saliva and cum all mingling together in a mess that is almost as disgusting as your sin.
Caleb says something but his voice is muffled. You look down and see him looking up at you, eyes big and guileless, his lips wrapped around your nipple as he sucks on it like a baby. You feel your stomach turn.
This is your baby brother. You’ve practically raised him for fuck’s sake. It’s more than incesteous. This is abominable. It’s depraved. He’s your little baby looking for comfort and love in the only place he has known to get it and you’ve horrifically failed in your role as an older sister—as his mother—to guide him through it.
How much further can you sink? Can you not control yourself? How are you meant to save him when you crumble under his every misguided desire? You’re too weak. You’ve always been weak.
Slowly your senses come back to you, and you start making out his words, a resolute chant of ‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’
It makes you sick.
You shove him back.
“Jiejie—” He whines, but the words die in his mouth at the look on your face. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Go to grandma’s house, Caleb.” You tell him flatly, and his swollen lips turn down with a stubborn scowl. “I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t want you here.” The words sound garbled to your own ears, so foreign on your tongue, and Caleb looks at you as if he doesn’t know what they mean.
“What? Jie—”
“I don’t want you here.” You repeat, more steadily, bolder—like a suicide jumper finally daring to step up to the ledge. Caleb’s mouth slams shut, his lips wobbling and his eyes fill with tears. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t want you—” You start again and Caleb recoils, jerking off the bed as if he can distance himself from the words he doesn’t want to hear. “Why are you being so cruel?”
“Am I?” You ask, and the tiredness makes your voice sound emotionless. “You won’t listen to me. You don’t care about anything I say or how this all makes me feel. All you care about is what you want, Caleb. Do you even really love me?”
He looks at you in horror. “Of course, I do! I’ve never loved anyone else!”
“Then go.”
He stands there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing around words that never make it to you, hot tears streaming down his face. You hear one singular sob before he turns away, rushing out the door.
You hurt him, you know. You had to hurt him.
You sit there in bed, staring after him. Only when you hear the front door slamming closed do you get off, dragging your feet to the shared bathroom, ignoring the disgusted looks of your roommates as they see your emotionless face following Caleb’s tearful exit.
Your shower brings you no comfort, nothing does anymore, the evil has sunk too deep into your skin, drilled down to your bones. You’d have to break them open and suck the marrow out to be rid of it.
_______________________
Caleb keeps his distance for two days. Two whole days of silence that slices you open and guts you, pulling your innards out and wrapping them so tight around your neck that you choke. But you don’t do anything about it, never try to reach out to him. Maybe if you die, Caleb will finally be free.
But all the grief and guilt and shame in the world hasn’t managed to kill you off. Maybe because Caleb refuses to let you go.
On the evening of the third day he comes crawling back, eyes swollen and voice hoarse as if he had been crying for the entire two days. You don’t doubt he was. You know you were—your blood dried off from all the tears you’ve cried and your voice nothing but a deathly whisper after two days of sobbing. You let him hold onto your broken body as he begs you, over and over, not to leave him.
And you can’t. For as long as your wretched existence continues, you’ll always hold your arms open and let your little brother burrow back into the space he tore open in your chest the day he was born.
After all, that’s how you got here in the first place, isn’t it? You’d do just about anything to not lose your brother.
But just because he came back and just because you welcomed him, doesn’t mean that things are back to normal—neither the innocent normal of your life before or the new normal of this new sordid life.
You exist around each other in a limbo where he still visits every weekend, still does your chores, still lies in bed at night with you, still touches you—but he can’t kiss you. He looks at you but his eyes don’t sparkle. He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He flutters around your place like a broken songbird in a cage. You hate seeing him like this but he refuses to fly even when the door is held open for him.
You don’t know what to do. Is letting him fuck you the only way he’ll be happy? Is giving yourself away to him completely and utterly the only way he’ll be satisfied? You don’t know. Sometimes, when you look at his miserable face and vacant eyes, you think you should just give him whatever he wants to make him happy again. And sometimes… sometimes you stare at his sleeping form, face scrunched up with a nightmare and fists clenched, and you look at your pillow and you think… maybe you should end it all. Maybe it’s too late to fix this.
You hate yourself for both, but the idea of hurting your baby brother makes you want to rip off your nails and break off every bone in your hands before you ever lay them on him.
So when he comes to you one day with that crumpled up piece of paper clutched so tightly in his hands that they’ve turned white, you almost cry with relief.
“If I accept this,” He asks, his face grim, “Will I lose you forever?”
With the acceptance letter to his dream college in his hands, your brother looks the most unhappy you’ve ever seen him.
“You’ll never lose me, Caleb.” You confess, not knowing when exactly the words that should have been spoken so proudly turned so guilty—was it when you touched him? when you kissed him? when you let him cross the line over and over again and defile a relationship that should’ve been the purest of all?
“Even if I say that I still love you?” He steps closer, almost as if he’s testing you, seeing if you prove yourself to be a liar. “Even if I will always love you?”
But you stand still—bowed and ashamed but still. “Even then.”
He leans in more, and more and more, until his lips meet yours in a firm kiss.
“Then I’ll go.” He promises, “And when I graduate, you'll be mine.”
a/n: this is ass y’all i’m sorry. Also fair warning mc is really gonna push caleb to hook up with another woman. it will definitely get pretty physical but i don’t know if i should take it all the way to sex or not.
super important question. are you up for mc turning a bit dark like she did at the end where she is so at the end of her tether with him that she has thoughts of harming/killing him in order to save him/because she feels cornered by him but then feeling so bad about herself that she continues giving into him? examples would be her smothering him when he’s eating her out or spanking him. or should i keep her just guilty and self hating without lashing out at caleb?
Also follow me on Twitter i'm so lonely over there 😭 it's @wildernessunto1 or tumblr @wildernessuntothemselves
for mc
keep her self loathing only
make her dark at times
Voting ended onApr 7
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
The campus rumors said the ice girls were more than just a cheer squad—they were the hockey team’s private tradition. You’d always dismissed the gangbang myth as just locker room bravado until you make the team and find out it’s very, very real.
minors do not interact
pairing ── hyung line x afab reader
word count ── 12k
content tags/warnings ── hockey team dynamic, ice girls are the cheerleaders of the hockey team, social hierarchy, college dorm life, physical overstimulation, non-consensual caretaking (aftercare), exhaustion, manipulative power dynamics, non-con/dub-con, choking/breath play (implied), rough handling, marking/bruising, objectification, slut shaming, loss of consciousness, secret society/fraternity like behavior, and heavy psychological tension. not a love story!
nene’s note ── this ended up being longer than i had expected that why it took a minute before i posted it. shoutout to @sunishake for giving me the green light to finally finish editing it and post! as you know i loveeeee feedback! enjoyyyy <333 drop a 🏒 if you loveeee zoya cause i do!
nsfw tags under the cut
unprotected sex, gangbang, squirting, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), marathon sex (kinda), creampie, double vaginal penetration, spitting, face/throat fucking, let me know if i missed any.
The September air was still thick with the residual heat of summer but the breeze cutting through the quad was already carrying the first sharp hint of the ice that would soon define your semester. Two weeks into freshman year and the campus already felt smaller than the brochures had promised. In all honesty you felt suffocated by the weight of a legacy neither you nor Zoya could escape.
Zoya walked beside you, constantly twisting her fingers in the strap of her bag. "I haven't slept in like three days," she admitted in a strained voice. "Tryouts are next week and I swear I can feel my heart in my throat every time I see a pair of skates."
"Zoya, breathe," you said. "You've been training for this since we were six. You're more prepared than anyone else in that rink. Stop stressing."
Your friendship with Zoya was a constant bond forged long before you understood what a legacy even meant. Your mothers had met in the very halls of this university, dressed in the same blue and white uniforms you were now expected to fill. You had spent your childhood in the back of dance studios and cold arena bleachers, two shadows following the footsteps of women who had once been part of the university's most celebrated icons.
"I don't know how you're so calm," she glanced at you. "If I don't make the cut, my mom might actually disown me. Your mom isn't exactly going to be thrilled if you aren't on that roster, either."
You shrugged, feeling like the weight of the expectation had just become a dull ache you'd simply learned to live with. "I'm sure she'll manage. Besides, it's just a team. There are more important things than whether or not we look good in sequins and skates."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered as you both found a stone table in the quad, sitting next to each other while the noise of the campus humming around you. "They only take five girls each year. Five."
"Because they have to maintain the twenty girl balance, Zoy," you countered, squinting against the sun. "Five seniors graduated so they need five new freshman and you can only try out in your first year. It's simple math, not a conspiracy. It's no biggie."
Zoya went quiet then, her expression shifting from nervous to something more focused. She leaned into your space and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to pay attention.
"Have you heard the gist lately? In the dorms?" she asked. "It's not just about who's the best skater anymore. Everyone is talking about the tradition. The real one."
You felt an internal groan. "That rumor? Again?"
"They say the hockey team picks one girl from the five new recruits," she said with her eyes wide and dead serious. "One girl who has to give it up at the tryouts welcome party. That it's a requirement. A gangbang for the guys who run the rink."
You rolled your eyes and let a sharp, dismissive sound escape your throat. "Zoya, please. That is the most tired, misogynistic urban legend on this campus. It's locker room bullshit meant to scare us or make the guys feel like they have more power than they actually do. It's just a rumor. Stop letting it get in your head."
"Like for fucks sake. Am I meant to be excited at the thought of a bunch of guys fucking me?"
But Zoya didn't back down, if anything she just leaned into closer, darting her eyes around as if the very trees were wired. "I'm serious! It's not just some ghost story, I'm telling you. My roommate's cousin's TA has a niece who was the girl they picked last year."
You stopped mid sip of your drink and lowered it to look at her with mocking disappointment. You let the silence hang for a beat too long just so she could sit with what she just said, then you started repeating her words back to her, dripping your voice with deliberate sarcasm.
"So...let me get this straight," you began ticking the points off on your fingers. "Your roommate's...cousin's...TA's...niece?" You asked her and watched her resolve start to crumble at the corners of her mouth as the absurdity of the so called source finally hit the air.
"When you put it like that, it sounds—"
"It sounds like a game of telephone or Chinese whisper played by people who have spent way too much time inhaling zamboni fumes," you finished for her.
She let out a frustrated whine while reaching to grab your shoulders. "Shut up! You're so mean!" she laughed and started to shake you back and forth. Her grip was firm as she swung your body in rhythm with her protests. "Take me seriously! I'm trying to prepare us for potentially having to take dick!"
The physical drama of it was too much to resist, you really tried to keep your face stoic but the sight of Zoya looking so genuinely panicked over a fourth hand story about a TA's niece broke you. A bubble of laughter escaped and soon you were both giggling like the kids you used to be.
The week of tryouts had been a blur of synthetic light and the rhythmic scrape of steel on ice. For Zoya, it was a slow motion descent into madness, she was a whirlwind of nervous energy in the locker room, retying her laces until her fingertips were raw and changing her skates three separate times because she convinced herself the blades weren’t right. You had watched her from the bench, already laced up and ready, trying to offer a calm anchor in her storm of superstition.
When your turn finally came, you didn't really overthink it. You moved through the routines you'd practiced since you were tall enough to reach the rink boards, you remembered all the crossovers, the synchronized lunges, the power pulls. It was muscle memory at this point or a birthright clicking into place. To you, it wasn't a performance—it was more of another day at the office.
Now, a week later, the tension had migrated from the ice to the stifling atmosphere of Zoya's dorm room. You were sitting criss cross on her bed while your phones sat like two ticking time bombs on the mattress between you.
"I think I'm going to throw up," Zoya whispered, staring at the dark screens. "If I don't see an email in the next sixty seconds, I'm dropping out of college and moving to a farm."
"You hate dirt, Zoy. You'd last barely an hour," you muttered, trying to be calm even though your own pulse was beginning to thrum against your ribs.
Suddenly, both screens lit up simultaneously and two identical notifications from the university athletics department banner appeared.
Zoya shrieked, launching herself off the bed as if she'd been electrocuted. She paced the small rug with her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, don't open it yet. We do this together."
You picked up your phone, your hands shaking but still steadier than hers and stood to meet her in the center of the room. "On three?"
"On three," she breathed as her finger hovered over the screen.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!"
The light of the screens reflected in your eyes as you both scanned the text.
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the 2026 Ice Girls roster..."
"WE GOT IN!" Zoya screamed, the words overlapping with your own as you read the confirmation out loud. She tackled you back onto the bed, you didn't even get through the second sentence before the room exploded. You hit the mattress with a thud as her weight pinned you down, her face buried in your shoulder as she vibrated with pure, unadulterated adrenaline.
"We did it! We actually did it!" she shrieked into your ear, her joy was infectious enough to finally break through your cool exterior and you couldn't help it. It was like the tension of the last week finally evaporated into a fit of breathless giggles. You lay there on the bed, tangled in limbs and phones, laughing up at the ceiling while Zoya squeezed the life out of you. And for that one moment, the weight of your mother's expectations and the dark whispers of campus rumors felt miles away—eclipsed by the simple reality that you were officially in.
The calm excitement of the afternoon was short lived though, quickly replaced by hurricane Zoya in a state of social crisis. Your dorm room looked like a textile factory had exploded, there were clothes draped over your desk lamp and jeans strewn across your bed as she dove head first into your closet for the third time in twenty minutes. "The welcome party isn't just a party, Y/N," she muffled from behind a row of your hangers, her voice strained with the familiar, high pitched anxiety that always made you want to both hug her and laugh at her. "It's like a hierarchy. The hockey team is going to be there and the resident ice girls will be judging our every move. We can't just show up looking like we're headed to a late night study session in the library!"
You laid there on your bed, watching her with an amused tilt of your head. Zoya was always a perpetual mess of nerves, she was a beautiful disaster but you loved her to death for it. Her intensity was the only thing that could actually make you feel the weight of whatever was ahead.
"Have you actually seen the hockey team in person? Like up close?" she continued, finally surfacing with a grunt of frustration. "They’re not a human, they’re like filtered ai images come to life. And don't even get me started on Heeseung—the captain. If I have to stand next to him, I refuse to do it in a crewneck sweatshirt." She tossed one of your favorite oversized hoodies onto the floor with a look of annoyance. "Seriously? You have nothing sexy in here. It's all...functional."
"I was just going to go in what I have on now," you said, gesturing to your simple jeans and tee.
Zoya let out a gasp of such genuine horror you thought she'd actually been wounded. "No way, Y/N! You are not going to embarrass us! This is our debut!"
Before you could protest, she lunged for the overstuffed duffle bag she'd lugged over all the way from her own dorm and with a dramatic flourish, she hoisted it over both your heads and dumped the entire contents onto your bed. A mountain of lace, silk and leather tumbled out in a heap.
"Pick," she commanded, pointing at the pile with a manic twitch in her eye. "Pick right now or so help me God, I will pick for you and I promise you it will involve something tiny."
Giving in to the inevitable, you sighed and reached blindly into the middle of the mountain. Your fingers snagged onto the strap of a dress, so you pulled it out—a short, form fitting black dress with delicate straps and a neckline that was definitely lower than anything you owned.
Zoya's eyes went wide and her frantic energy instantly shifted into a predatory sort of pride. "Ooh...okay, okay! That one is hot," she purred, clapping her hands together. "The I don't care but I look incredible look. It's perfect. Go. Put it on. Eeek! I can’t wait, Y/N!"
You’re not surprised the party ends up being a far cry from the chaotic, floor shaking rages you'd been attending in the freshman dorms. This was something different, it was controlled and suffocatingly exclusive.
You let your eyes scan the room as you hoisted yourself up onto the kitchen island, slowly realizing the rumors about the inner circle weren't exaggerated. There were exactly twenty two hockey players and the twenty ice girls, including the five of you who had just been initiated. The air felt heavy with a specific kind of social politics you weren't sure you wanted to play. Zoya, however, was of course a natural and about twenty minutes ago, a guy with a sharp jawline and an observant gaze called Jungwon had detached himself from a group of upperclassmen and navigated the crowded living room with a focused sort of grace, landing right in front of Zoya.
"Was it a requirement for this year’s ice girls to be extra gorgeous?" he'd asked her with a voice smooth enough to make Zoya's usual nervous energy vanish into a flattered blush. He looked into her cup before speaking again, "Want to help me find something that isn't cheap beer?"
Zoya had glanced back at you, her eyes wide with a silent 'Is this okay?' question. You'd given her a small, reassuring nod, the green light she needed to finally enjoy the night she'd spent weeks stressing over.
Now, you were alone sat on the island while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up slightly as you adjusted your seat. The fabric was sleek and undeniably hot, as she'd put it but it didn't stop you from feeling like an outsider looking in.
Through the pulse of the music and the low hum of athletic egos clashing, your mind drifted toward your dorm. You could almost feel the weight of your oversized weighted duvet and the silence of your room. You were halfway through the mental calculation of how long you had to stay before an early morning excuse became socially acceptable, when the stool next to your legs slid back and the scent of expensive cologne hit you before he even spoke.
"You look remarkably bored for someone who just clawed their way onto the most exclusive team on campus," his voice came, all deep and smooth, holding a hint of a challenge.
You looked up and met a pair of intense eyes. He was striking with sharp angles and cool composure. Normally, you might have given a dry retort about the music volume but you caught sight of Zoya across the room, laughing at something Jungwon said. You knew her mentals would never recover if you started your tenure by being rude to one of the hockey gods.
"I’m just a bit tired," you said and forced your lips into a polite smile. "It's been a long week of skating."
He tilted his head and studied you a little as if he were reading a play. "Fair enough. I'm Jongseong but everyone just calls me Jay."
"Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Y/N" you replied. You were just about to settle into a rhythm of light banter when a second presence came crashing into your peripheral vision.
"And who is this cutie?"
The newcomer leaned against his palm with his elbow the marble counter, he was radiating a completely different energy from Jay, so warm and dangerously charming. He looked like the kind of guy that had never had a bad day in his life.
Jay didn't even glance at him, his dark eyes somehow stayed locked on yours and his voice dropped an octave as he answered for you. "Y/N," he said your name and made it sound like a claim and not like an introduction.
The new guy grinned, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Well, Y/N, I'm Jake. Huge congratulations on making the ice girls. That’s a big deal."
You offered an amused huff. "Thanks. Though I'm surprised you even know I'm new. I figured we all looked the same to you guys in those practice uniforms."
Jake let out a short laugh and shifted closer until he had his head nearly in your thighs. "Oh please," he murmured, letting his gaze travel over your face with a boldness that made the back of your neck heat up. "I would've spotted you months ago if you were already around. You're far too stunning to go unnoticed on this campus."
Before you could respond to Jake's blatant flirting, a third figure cut through the conversation. He didn't look at you, well at least not at first. He directed all his attention entirely to Jake. "Heeseung is looking for you," the newcomer said a little bit like a warning. "And he's already pissed. You were supposed let the delivery driver with the drinks in and now he’s gone…with the extra drinks."
Jake didn't look remotely intimidated, if anything he actually looked bored as he rolled his eyes and let his hair tickle your arm. "Heeseung gets pissed at everyone, Sunghoon. It's his default setting by now."
The name Heeseung had been floating around the dorms like a title of nobility for weeks but the way they spoke it made him sound like a force to be reckoned with. "Who exactly is Heeseung?" you cut in, managing to keep your voice steady despite the triple threat of hot guys surrounding you. "And should I be staying clear of him?"
That was the moment the new guy finally acknowledged you. His gaze drifted down and landed on you with a clinical kind of interest that felt like you were being scrutinized.
"He's our captain," Jake answered quickly, with a playful smirk returning to his lips. "And whether you stay clear of him or not isn't really up to you anymore, is it? You're an ice girl now."
"This is Sunghoon," Jake added, gesturing vaguely to the cold eyed newcomer.
Sunghoon didn't smile at you but the intensity of his stare softened just a fraction. "So, how does it feel? Being one of the chosen five?"
You opened your mouth to give a diplomatic, it's great response but your gaze snagged on a movement across the room, where Zoya was stood still with Jungwon distracted by the person he was talking to over her head. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape at the sight of you sat at the center of a triangle of hot guys.
She caught your eye and mouthed, "What the fuck?!" her expression was a blend of genuine horror and curios thrill.
You caught her eye and gave a subtle, helpless shrug, you didn't have an answer for her, damn—you didn't even have an answer for yourself. Ten minutes ago you were thinking about your bed and now, you’re the center of gravity for some sexy strangers.
Just as Jay was trying to pull you back into the conversation with a question about your major or something, a voice came from nowhere. "Jake. Come on, man. I told you to let the drinks guy in." The voice was low and authoritative, lacking any of the playful warmth the others had shown.
Heeseung didn't even look like a student in the best way possible, he looked like the architect of the entire room. His presence was heavy like a physical weight that made the banter from a moment ago feel suddenly juvenile. He didn't even acknowledge you, his eyes were fixed entirely on Jake with a look of tired discipline.
"He left and now we’re low on drinks," Heeseung added but Jake didn't miss a beat and instead of shrinking, he finally just placed his whole head in your lap as he flashed a boyish grin at his captain.
"Can you blame me, cap?" Jake countered, the tone was light but his eyes were dancing with a hint of challenge. "I was just doing my job. Making our newest recruit feel welcome. You wouldn't want the ice girls thinking we aren’t hospitable, would you?" He spoke as if you were the ultimate get out of jail free card.
Heeseung's eyes finally shifted, they traveled slowly from your face down to where your hands were resting in Jake's hair, then finally up to your face again. His eyes weren't hungry like Jake's or intense like Jay's, they were just insanely observant, tracing your features quietly in a way that made your breath scatter.
He let out a long sigh and you could see the tension in his jaw flicker for just a second before he looked back at the three guys flanking you.
"Of course," He said. "I should have known. You three always did have a habit of gravitating toward the prettiest girl in the room."
He stepped closer and invaded the space the others had already carved out, letting his shadow fall over you. "The problem is," he said, shifting his eyes to lock onto yours with a finality that made the myth Zoya was going on about suddenly feel real, "they usually forget that the prettiest ones are the hardest to keep in line."
His eyes searched yours for a crack in your nonchalant exterior. "So," he murmured, "are you going to be a problem, doll? Hard to keep in line?"
The weight of the four of them was suffocating, it made you lose trust in your own voice, so you simply shook your head, a subtle movement that felt like signing a contract you hadn't even read.
A satisfied smirk pulled at Jay's lips so he let his shoulder brush yours. "In that case," he said, "we're moving to a more...private after party. Just us. You wanna come?"
He didn't phrase it like a question, to you it sounded like it was an invitation or a command. You hesitated and your mind flashed back to the quiet safety of your dorm but Jake was quick in sensing your retreat. He reached out and let his thumb graze the back of your hand where it rested on the marble now since he lifted his head from your lap.
"Come on," he coaxed with a honeyed voice. "The night's just getting started. You don't want to be the only recruit who tucked herself in just before the real fun began, do you?"
"I...I can't leave Zoya," you managed to glance over their tall frames toward the dance floor. "We came together. I can’t just leave her alone."
Heeseung didn't even bother looking over his shoulder, as if he already knew exactly where everyone in the room was positioned. "Zoya’s in safe hands, Jungwon is the sweetest. He'll look after her."
You followed his gaze to the center of the room where the lights caught Zoya, who clearly wasn't checking for you anymore. She had her back pressed firmly against Jungwon's chest, her head tilted back as his hands gripped her hips. She looked flushed and lost in the heat of the moment, completely oblivious to the fact that you were being cornered right now.
The rumors Zoya had whispered about at the stone table suddenly didn't feel so ridiculous anymore. Looking at her, then back at the four sets of eyes waiting for your answer, you realized you had to make a choice. But maybe it wasn’t even like that, maybe they were just being really good wing men for Jay, who was the first to approach you. And if you’re being honest you didn’t mind the either of flirting with him more in a more quiet location.
That line of reasoning was exactly how you ended up sat between Jay and Sunghoon in the backseat of a massive truck you’re suspecting Jake owns, seeing as he’s the one driving with Heeseung in the passenger seat.
The fabric of Sunghoon's expensive jacket brushed against your left arm while Jay's solid frame pressed into your right, leaving you with nowhere to lean but forward.
The blue light of your phone screen felt blinding in the darkness of the car as you quickly typed out a message to Zoya.
You: I left with Jay. Didn't want to interrupt you and Jungwon. Text me when you're back?
You watched the read receipt appear instantly, trying to ignore how you conveniently left out the fact that you left with all four boys. A second later, a heart reaction popped up over the bubble, the girl didn’t even bother typing back, she was clearly occupied and it made you snort.
But before you could lock the screen, a large hand reached over and plucked the device from your fingers. Jay didn't even look at the screen as he pocketed it in his jacket with his gaze fixed on the side of your face. "Relax," he told you. "I promise you, Jungwon is a real gentleman. He'll make sure she gets back safe."
"He's right," Sunghoon added from your other side but when you looked at him, he was staring out the tinted window at the passing streetlights. "Jungwon is the best of us. No need to worry."
Jake caught your eye in the rearview mirror and flashed you his perfect white teeth, the engine roaring as he accelerated down the road.
The drive felt like it was happening in a different dimension, the hum of the engine was drowning out by the predatory focus of the men surrounding you.
Jay shifted his weight so his large frame crowded into your personal space until you were pinned against the leather seat and Sunghoon's solid side. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this since you walked into that kitchen," he said, "You're so fucking gorgeous, it's insane."
He moved closer, letting his nose brush yours and you could feel his warm breath on your lips. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?"
Your words had abandoned you, the sheer fervor of his gaze made you dizzy and all you could do was nod. He didn't wait to be told twice, crashing his lips onto yours in a kiss so hungry and demanding, it made a tiny whimper escape your throat, muffled by his lips as his tongue traced yours.
From the front, Heeseung's amused voice cut through the haze, he glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of Jay nearly on top of you, pushing you further into Sunghoon. "Control yourself, Jongseong," he said with no real bite to his words. "You're always so impatient. We aren't even off the main road yet."
Jay definitely wasn’t listening, deepening the kiss instead and letting his hand grip your waist. That’s when you felt a sharp spark of electricity as a different hand began a slow trail up the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.
Your head snapped to the left with wide eyes to meet Sunghoon's gaze, who wasn't looking out the window anymore, whose lips were now pulled into a pout. "And what about me?" he whispered, "Where's my kiss, Y/N?"
Caught between the two of them, you leaned over and pressed your lips to Sunghoon's in a softer kiss. The moment you did, Jay groaned into your ear and grabbed your waist to hoist your leg over his lap, forcing your legs apart in the cramped space and making your dress ride up dangerously high.
Jay's fingers danced along your inner thigh, inching upward until they hooked under the delicate edge of your lace panties. The sensation sent a jolt through you and as Sunghoon began to trail wet kisses down the column of your neck, your breath hitched in a jagged sob.
You were sure you would faint if they both kept going but the vehicle came to a halt and Jake's voice drifted back from the driver's seat, "We're hereeee."
Trying to get out the truck, your legs felt like water when your heels hit the gravel of the driveway, making you stumble.
"Woah, easy there," Sunghoon caught you and before you could find your balance, he moved with the strength of an athlete. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm around your waist and hoisted you upward, flipping you over his shoulder like you weighed less than a hockey stick.
That forced a whimper out of your lips and your hair cascaded toward the pavement while the hem of Zoya's dress rode up even further. Blood quickly rushed to your head, mixing with the lingering dizzy spell Jay had started in the backseat.
SMACK.
The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your rear echoed in the quiet night. "Shh," he shushed you with his hand lingering for a possessive second on the curve of your hip. You could hear the others following behind him as he carried you into the house. Jake let out a low laugh from somewhere behind you. "Careful with the cargo, Hoon," he teased but there was no real concern in his voice.
"She's fine," Jay countered, speaking for you and reaching up to trace a slow line down your exposed calf.
Heeseung led the way and punched a code into a glowing keypad of the door, the mechanical click of the lock sounding like a gavel hitting a sounding block. He stepped inside and held the door open, his eyes tracked your inverted form on Sunghoon’s shoulder.
"Try not to make too much noise, doll. The neighbors think we're such studious boys."
Sunghoon dropped you carefully, setting you down on the couch and the first thing you registered was the interior of the house, it was even more imposing than the truck—all dark leather and the kind of minimalist luxury that felt cold until the four of them surrounded the couch where you sat. They stood in a semi circle, before Heeseung stepped forward with an expression so unreadable, it stripped away the playful banter of the car ride.
"Before we go any further, let's be clear," he started, speaking in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "We're going to fuck you. All of us. If you don't want that, if you've changed your mind, say it now. We won't be mad and we won't make it weird. Jake will drive you back to your dorm and we'll go back to being normal hockey players and ice girl on Monday. No questions asked."
The rumors weren't just true, they were standing right in front of you, tall and extremely expectant.
But as you looked up at them you didn't feel fear Zoya had spoken of this very moment with. The adrenaline from the car ride was still singing in your veins, drowning out any hesitation.
Without a word, you reached up, hooking your fingers under the thin spaghetti straps of the dress. You watched their eyes track the movement as you slowly slid the fabric down, letting it pool around your waist until your breasts were fully exposed in the dim light of the apartment.
"Fuck yeah," Jake breathed, already reaching for the buckle of his belt. "I told you she was the right choice," he muttered.
Heeseung didn't have an outward reaction but the corner of his mouth ticked upward in a smirk—the first sign of genuine approval you'd seen from him all night. "Good girl," he said but now his voice carried a heavy sexual weight.
It was as if they had been waiting all night to tear into you, Jake didn't wait for a second invitation, he dropped to his knees by your legs before burying his face against your chest. "Fuck, I love tits," he groaned, the sound muffled against your skin before his mouth latched onto one nipple. He sucked with a greedy pace that sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak until you were arching your back off the leather cushions.
Above you, Jay was already crowding back into your space, ready to continue what he started in the car. He gripped your jaw and tilted your head back for a bruising make out that had you gasping for air, his hands found your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you.
While Jake and Jay claimed your upper body, Sunghoon moved with a surgical focus. He didn't say a word as he reached down, hooking his fingers into the lace of your panties and tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. He tossed the scrap of fabric onto the expensive floor without a second glance.
He looked at your pussy with a smirk pulling at his lips. "Look at that," his voice barely cut through the sounds of Jake's wet suction and Jay's heavy breathing. He reached out with two fingers to graze your folds, coming away coated in your evidence. He held them up to the dim light, showing you how much you were already leaking. "You're absolutely soaking. Such a little slut for the team, aren't you, baby girl?"
The words hit you in a way that made your toes curl and sent a whine into Jay's hungry mouth, your hips instinctively rolled upward toward Sunghoon's hand or face, desperate for the friction you knew was coming.
From the edge of the couch, Heeseung watched with a calm satisfaction, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in the sight of his teammates dismantling the newest ice girl.
"She's perfect," Heeseung noted. "Jay, move."
You were pinned to the plush leather of the sofa like a living sacrifice to the tradition you had only joked about five hours ago.
Heeseung leaned over you, letting his large hand cup the side of your face so he could claim your mouth. His kiss was deep, slower than Jay’s and tasted of dark intentions. But the moment his tongue met yours, you felt like you could fall in love with him, that thought was quickly pushed out of your head when a pair of hot, wet lips latched directly onto your clit with a suction so precise it felt like a machine.
"Ah—!" Your back arched violently off the cushions as you broke away from Heeseung's mouth, only to look down and find Jay's dark hair between your thighs. He didn't look up, his hands gripped your hips with bruising force to keep you still while his tongue worked with in rhythmic motions. He was fucking your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue and flicking it against the most sensitive parts of your cunt until you were sobbing into the quiet of the room. "S—Slow down!"
You tried to tug at the roots of his hair to ground yourself but there was no use. On either side of your chest, Jake was still relentlessly toying with your breasts, moving his mouth from one nipple to the other and grazing his teeth on the swollen peaks until they were raw and sensitive.
Heeseung didn't let you stay away for long, his hand shifted from your cheek again before sliding down until his fingers curled firmly around your throat. It wasn't enough to choke you, just a steady, pressure that forced your chin up and pinned you in place while he leaned back in to reclaim your lips.
"Stay still for me, mama."
With a hand on your neck, Jake's mouth on your chest and Jay's tongue devouring your cunt, you felt like you were being pulled apart. You became a mess of whimpers and little breaths while your body twitched with every flick of Jay's tongue as the four of them began the process of breaking you in.
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, which was now swollen from his kisses.
"Do you know how to suck a dick, doll face?" he asked, to which you could only nod with your eyes wide and glazed over from arousal.
He took hold of your jaw with a firm grip, maneuvering your head like a piece of equipment he was testing for the first time. You were forced to turn away from the wet sounds Jay was still making between your thighs and suddenly you were face to face with Sunghoon’s cock. He stood right at the edge of the sofa with his jeans already pulled down. His cock was thick and pulsing with a life of its own, there was a perfect bead of precum trembling at the crown. It looked lethal in that light, it looked way too big and ready, completely unapologetic.
"Open up."
Your mouth fell open in a silent invitation that he accepted instantly as he guided his length past your lips. The salt heavy taste of him flooded your mouth and you found yourself choking out a muffled whimper when he slid in deep, bottoming out against the back of your throat on the very first thrust.
He wasn't gentle, he lacked the patience Jake liked to pretend he had, he reaching down, he tangled his fingers into your hair at the roots to steady you or perhaps just to keep you from pulling away then began to fuck your face with a bruising rhythm.
It was complete sensory static, you had Sunghoon's weight invading your throat, Jay's tongue still ruthlessly fucking your pussy below and the heavy pressure of Heeseung's hand on the back of your neck. Every time Sunghoon thrust, his hips bumped against your nose and the scent of him suffocates you in the best possible way.
You were drowning in them, drowning in the friction of the leather sofa against your back and the dual assault on your body, you could barely find the air to breathe. It made you reach out and dig your fingers into Sunghoon's quads for some kind of leverage, you felt the rock hard muscle jump under your touch as you doubled down on the suction.
"God, look at her," Jake's voice drifted from somewhere above your chest. "She's taking him so well. Such a pretty thing."
Sunghoon wasn’t offering any ounce of mercy, his movement turned into something frenzied as he crowded into your space. He used your hair as a tether, pulling your head back to meet every punishing lunge, the friction of his length against your tongue and throat becoming a choking heat. You were swamped in the taste of him, making your eyes water cause his hips snapped forward with a certainty that left you with no room to breathe.
Determined to wrestle back some semblance of control, you reached up and clamped your hand around the very base of his cock, letting thumb press firmly into the heavy vein on the side, you tried to anchor him in place, circling your tongue around the head with laser focus. You started to suck and choke on him in a pace that had his knees buckling against the edge of the cushions.
The controlled grunts he had been making finally fractured. "Fuck," he gasped, something genuine and high pitched ripping from his throat as his head snapped back. The cold look he’d been attempting to wear all night was completely replaced by a wrecked expression that bordered on pain. He leaned his full weight into you, bracing one hand against the wall behind the couch, his fingertips raked against your scalp cause he was losing the battle to stay composed.
He looked down at the others, his voice a jagged rasp that ripped through the wet sounds of Jay still eating your pussy so messily and the squelching of his own cock fucking your mouth. "Heeseung...oh fuck my life, she's actually s—so fucking good at this."
Jake’s chuckle was appreciative from where he was still occupied with your chest, his thumb flicking your nipple with a punishing pinch that made you jump. "I told you. She's got that quiet desperate energy. They're always the nastiest."
Jay hadn’t even come up for air from the slick mess between your thighs, his tongue was still hitting your clit with sharp flicks that made your hips buck weakly into his mouth.
Heeseung's hand was tracing the frantic pulse in your throat, he watched the way your cheeks hollowed out when you doubled down on Sunghoon, his expression shifting from calculated observation to something much hungrier.
"Damn," "What a sight."
You fought for every bit of air while stilling working your throat around Sunghoon with a needy drive that you were determined to maintain until he finally came. You wanted that win, you wanted the feeling of him losing his composure completely as he spilled into your mouth but the sensation coming from Jay was starting to break your focus.
Two thick fingers suddenly shoved their way past your entrance and stretched you wide with an abrupt force that made your eyes roll back instantly. At the same moment, a hot mouth seized your clit again, sucking with an intent pressure that had you wanting to shriek.
The rush was too much, it was a violent collision of pleasure that had you trembling on the couch. You tried to pull back, shaking your head as you attempted to dislodge Sunghoon just to let out the scream building in your lungs. But Sunghoon wasn't having it, he forced you back down until you were buried to the hilt once more, snapping his hips forward with an unchecked urgency.
"Come on, baby girl...I'm so fucking close. Take this cock for me. You’re a good girl, right?"
You tried to obey, hollowing your cheeks so you could double down on the suction but the fingers inside you were merciless. They pushed deeper, reaching past depths you didn't know you had and hooking upward to find that one receptive spot to stay there, pulsing against it until your entire body went rigid.
The dam within you didn't just break, it completely shattered, leading to a hot wave of fluid erupting from you, soaking the hand buried inside you and splashing against the expensive cushions. You were squirting around those fingers in quivering jets, your gummy muscles clenched in an uncoordinated pulses that you couldn't stop if you tried. Every muffled whimper and sob was swallowed whole by Sunghoon's length, leaving you to shake helplessly as you were essentially being consumed from both ends.
"No way," Jake's excitement reached your ears through the haze, he stopped his assault on your breasts just to stare down at the slick mess soaking into the dark leather. "Holy shit, she's a squirter. Hee, did you see that?"
Jay let out an elated sound while his fingers were still buried deep to catch every last twitch of your orgasm. "I see it," he muttered. "I feel it. You’re ruining the couch, angel."
Even through their words and the force of your organs that had you shaking, Sunghoon’s hips were unstoppable. It was like he had lost his grip on reality and you could tell he was on the edge of his own climax.
His hand tightened in your hair with a pushing force as a string of broken curses tore from his throat. "Holy fucking shit—Fuckkk baby girl." "Sh—Shit! You’re gonna make me cum."
It was as if it was too much for him but he didn’t pull back, he pushed further into to your mouth, the phallic head of his cock assaulting your throat.
His hot spurts of cum shot down, making you gag and the cum overflow but he wasn't done, he somehow managed to keep thrusting, trying to fuck every last drop back into you with so much heat that your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
"Easy, Hoon. You're going to choke her," Heeseung's voice broke through the fog, still calm but carrying that undeniable authority. He reached forward, wrapping a hand around Sunghoon's shoulder and physically hauling him back.
The moment the pressure vanished and you heard the squelch of his cock pulling out from your mouth, you collapsed forward on the sofa. You couldn't seem to catch your breath, the air was whistling in your lungs as you coughed uncontrollably. Strings of white, pearly cum trailed from the corners of your mouth, dripped down your chin and carved wet paths through the sweat on your neck.
Jay moved over to catch your jaw, he started to pull at the hem of his shirt and made an effort to wipe the mess from your face but it was a lost cause—you were completely ruined. He looked down at you, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lower lip and his eyes went soft for a minute. "You okay? We can stop if you've had enough. You're shaking like crazy."
The room went still for a heartbeat and all four sets of eyes tracked the way your chest heaved. You swallowed hard, still tasting Sunghoon heavy on your tongue and looked up through your lashes. A defiant smile making its way to your lips, even though a stray tear from overstimulation rolled down your cheek.
"No," your voice was barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You haven't even fucked me yet. Isn't that what you promised?"
A charged silence followed your words before Jake let out a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Jesus Christ," "She's a total fucking freak. I love it."
Before you could even think to retort, Heeseung's hands were on your hips hauling you up and flipping you over, forcing you onto all fours in the center of the sofa. Your knees sank into the plush leather and your head hung low, making your hair shield your face as you felt the cold air of the room hit your exposed pussy.
Heeseung seemed to love keeping you suspended in that agonizingly sharp moment of anticipation, your breath wouldn’t stop hitching as your patience dwindled, you felt the blunt head of his cock begin to drag along your wet folds. He was taking his time, coating himself in the mess Jay had left behind, teasing the entrance until you were mindlessly rolling your hips back to find him.
"D—Don’t tease!" You shrieked at him, so desperate to be filled, he finally pushed in slowly, it was so intrusive that you felt like you were being split wide from the inside out. His size was unforgiving and every millimeter he gained seemed to stretch your walls to their absolute limit. You were starting to tremble, your elbows buckling as you tried to stay upright and in a moment of total overstimulation, you twisted your neck to look back at him.
That was a mistake.
The second your eyes met his dark, blown out ones, completely hollow of any pity, his face hardened and he reached forward, large hand wrapping firmly around the front of your throat, not to choke you but to force your head up and arch your spine, causing a violent surge of his hips that buried his cock all the way inside your pussy.
"FUCK!" You screamed straight from your lungs, the impact was so sudden it knocked the air out of you, leaving you gasping as your walls squeezed down around him in a reflexive grip.
"Nngh—fuck," he grunted, dropping his forehead to the space between your shoulder blades at the feeling of you clenching. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck to hold you steady against the force of his own intrusion. "You're so fucking tight. Doll, are you sure you’ve been fucked before?"
Regardless of his pussy drunk concern, he didn’t give you a second to adjust, picking a speed that had him bottoming out with every single thrust, making the world blur into a cloud of white light and the steady slap of skin meeting skin.
You found a way to open your eyes and were immediately met with Jay standing just inches from your face with his hardened dick in his hand, stroking at the view in front of him. The sight of him with completely unfiltered hunger in his eyes made you reach out to try to grab him yourself but your fingers grazed his thigh instead.
"Yeah? You want this too, angel?"
You couldn't even find your voice, you could only bob your head in a nod while Heeseung's hips collided with your ass.
"Say please," Jay commanded.
"Ah—nhh, please..." you whined, the sound breaking into a jagged sob as Heeseung bottomed out again. "Please, Jay...please fuck my mouth."
He kneeled on the couch on the space between your hands, the heat of him hit your face before he tapped the heaviness of his length on your outstretched tongue. You were a complete mess, your hands clinging his thighs for balance while your body was tossed back and forth between the two of them.
Heeseung shifted his angle and suddenly he wasn't just pounding into you anymore, he began to grind into that spot that had your toes curling into the leather. It wasn't the raw friction Sunghoon had used to fuck your face—it was a slow and deliciously exact pressure that made you pull off Jay’s cock for a second.
"Oh my God! Right there! Fu—Ah!" A broken string of moans escaping you, you looked up at Jay with your eyes glazed and watering. "Jayyy, Heeseung...Heeseung’s fucking me so good...It’s so good, Jay!"
Jay watched your face contort with the pleasure Heeseung was providing. "Yeah?" Jay rasped with an instant competitive heat and pushed his way back into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep but not as deep as Sunghoon. "You like that? You like how he's stretching out your little pussy?"
Just as you were starting to manage the dual invasion of Jay and Heeseung, a new spark ignited at your core. Someone had reached beneath you, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing down until he heard you moan.
"W—Wait! Too much!"
The scream was raw and echoed off the high ceilings as you realized Jake was the source of the new pleasure. A new pleasure so overwhelming it turned you into a delirious mess of babbles.
"Thank you—fuck—thank you so much!" You cried, your head thrashing against the sofa cushions, completely abandoning Jay’s dick. "It’s so big...my pussy! Oh my God! Heeseung, it feels so good!"
You dug your fingers into the leather and began to throw your ass back with an erratic force, you were weaponizing your own body, slamming back against him so hard that he let out a choked off grunt, his hands scrambled to find purchase on your waist cause you had completely hijacked his rhythm. He was losing his control, it made his breath come out in ragged, stuttering hitches as you ground your pussy on his fic harder and harder.
"Wait—oh shit—doll, slow down," Heeseung managed to say but his voice a mess. He was trembling and muscles were all corded and tight with how hard he was struggled to keep up with your manic pace. "I'm gonna...fuck...can I cum? Can I cum inside you, doll?"
"Yes! Yes!" you keened. "Give it to me, Heeseung—fill me up, please, please just do it! Please give me your cum!"
Maybe Jake was starting to feel felt out or neglected, maybe that’s why his eyes got this strange kind of glee in them when he delivered three stinging slaps directly to your swollen clit.
The impact was the final straw and you knew you didn’t stand a chance, your vision went dark at the corners and for the second time in less than an hour a wave of fluid erupted from your pussy, soaking Heeseung's thighs and the sofa in a hot jolt. At that exact moment, Heeseung lost the battle, letting out a guttural roar and having his fingers bruise your hips when he surged forward one last time and pinned you down, dumping his entire load deep inside your overstimulated cunt.
The expensive fabric of Zoya's dress was now a lost cause, it was a ruined topographical map of cum streaks and the translucent evidence of your own multiple orgasms. You were slumped against the leather with your skin hot when Jake leaned into your space. He looked down at you with a fake pout, his bottom lip tucked out in a way that would have been endearing if his eyes weren't so eager.
"You look absolutely undone," Jake said softly, a little playfully too while he traced a smudge of Sunghoon's cum on your cheek. "Are we done? Because you haven't even touched me yet and I'm starting to feel a little neglected over here."
Heeseung was a complete afterthought at this point, slumped back against the sofa cushions with his chest heaving, he looked entirely fucked out and content to just watch the rest of them continue to use you. Jay snorted as soon as he saw his captain sidelined before he reached out and tugged you toward him.
He didn't give you a choice in the positioning, quickly sitting back and pulling you onto his lap so that your back was pressed against his firm chest, your legs straddling his thick thighs in a reverse cowgirl that left you bare and vulnerable.
"I can be a bit rough, angel," Jay warned in a low voice that traveled straight through your spine. He leaned forward and let his lips graze the shell of your ear. "Just tap my arm if you need me to slow down, okay?"
You were able to give him a weak nod but right before you could even settle into the new position, the dynamic shifted. Jay's hands slid down, hooking the firmly under your knees and hauling your legs upward until your thighs were pinned against your chest. He shifted his grip and locked his fingers behind your head in a makeshift full nelson that made your chest thrust forward and your pussy completely bared to the room.
Jake quickly stepped in and helped Jay's guide his length to your entrance. The thrust of him was so creamy and squelching due to the mixture of Heeseung's and your cum but it didn't stop the way your pussy still felt stretched and overstimulated.
"Oh fuck—!"
You were completely at his mercy, pinned between his solid frame and the air, with no way to pull back or adjust the depth. Jay didn't waste a second of your shock, snapping his hips forward with animalistic strength that made your entire body jostle with every strike.
You became a passenger in your own body, your head lolling forward cause you had no choice, he ruined what was left of your composure with a speed you had no hope of escaping.
The sound Jake's loud commentary and the heavy, satisfied sound of Heeseung's laughter became nothing more than background static the moment Jay's lips grazed the damp skin of your earlobe, to whisper like he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Look at you," he hissed and words rattled in your skull.
His arms tightened under yours, pulling your chest even tighter against the position so he could fuck into you with sickeningly perfect thrusts. "Taking all of me like a champ while they just watch. You're so fucking wet, I can hear it every time my dick goes inside you. Do you like being our little showpiece? Do you like how much of a mess we've made of you?"
You tried to gasp, tried to find some response but he caught your ear in his teeth in a sharp nip. "Answer me, angel," he ordered and you couldn't help but clench harder at the sound of his sexy voice in your ear. "Tell me how good it feels to have me giving you this good dick. Tell me you're never going to be the same after tonight."
The way he spoke was so different from Sunghoon's cold commands or Heeseung's calculated dominance. He seemed to be utterly depraved while he detailed exactly what he was doing to your body, using words that made you feel like you were going insane.
"Nnh—Jay—"
"Yeah, that's it," he rasped, increasing his pace until you were bouncing helplessly in his grip. "Keep saying my name like that. Let them watch you cum apart for me. You're so fucking perfect, I'm gonna lose it if you keep squeezing me like that."
You were a complete disaster in his arms, like his words were actively bypassing your brain and heading straight for your pussy. He was pinning you to his chest and whispering every filthy thought he'd had about you since he first spotted you tonight, and with every word, he pushed you closer to the edge of your third orgasm you weren't sure your body was ready for.
The physical barrier of Jay's body didn't stop Jake, he seemed to be a creature of opportunity and when his eyes caught onto the wet frothing friction of Jay’s cock pounding into you, he darted his tongue out to trace Jay’s cock, catching the pearly drops of cum that had pooled at the base of him, and then he made a torturous trek upward. He licked right over the tension of your stretched entrance with his tongue firm and flat, before landing straight on your clit.
"Mmm—Jake—NO—!"
Your scream was harsh, heavy with the evidence of total sensory overload that vibrated through Jay's chest. You weren't just getting fucked anymore, they were taking you apart from the outside in. Every time Jake's tongue swirled over your now extremely sensitive nub, a fresh jerk of aching pleasure sang through your whole body to the point where all you could do was kick your feet and moan. "Oh my God! Oh shitttt! Fuck!" "Nggh—My pussy!"
"Look at you," Jay said into your ear so lowly that no one could hear him over the sound of your cries. "She's losing her fucking mind, Jake. Look at how she's shaking."
Jake didn't answer him with words, he just doubled down, mouth sucking, spitting and slurping until your vision was spotting. He was working in perfect tandem with Jay—the blunt force of the thrusts bottoming out inside you while Jake’s wet mouth kept you on the very edge of another violent climax.
You were a mess of incoherent sobs and frantic hitches as the room blurred into a haze of salt and the overwhelming scent of four men who were determined to see exactly how much you could take before they finally broke you for good.
"Hey," "You think you can handle more? You think that pretty little pussy of yours can take two cocks at once?"
Your brain was mid short circuiting from the overstimulation of both of them leaving you totally incapable of actual thought. You just wanted to be good for them, you wanted to be the perfect, ruined thing they so badly desired.
"Yes," you sobbed into the quiet of the room, making eye contact with Jake who had with tongue flat out so Jay was brushing up against it too. "Yes, please...I can take it."
Jay eyes locked onto Jake's with a competitive look. "She says she wants both, Jake. Get in here."
Jay didn't stop, but he did shift his rhythm, slowing the full nelson into a heavy grind that still kept you anchored while Jake stepped into the space between Jay's spread legs. Jake was vibrating with a feverish drive, his eyes were blown wide when he looked down at the slick mess of your pussy, mostly from him spitting and slurping all over it.
He spat a dollop directly onto your pussy again and the heat of it was a stark difference to the cooling fluids already coating your skin. Looking at him above you, all you could notice was how he was undeniably the heaviest and thickest you’d seen all night but you didn’t even get the chance to appreciate it before he decided to slap the heaviness of his cock directly on your swollen clit.
"Ah shit! Fuck Fuck Fuck—!" Your toes curled mid air.
He was massive in a way that made Sunghoon and Heeseung look manageable by comparison and who had struggled to take them, so how would you manage this?
"Look at you," Jake mocked, guiding the thick weeping head of his cock into your pussy, right alongside where Jay was still buried deep and grinding just on that spot. "You’re already stretching out for me. You’re such a good little slut, aren’t you?"
He began to push his way in, not waiting for your body to adjust around two massive cocks inside you. The stretch was agonizing, you felt like your walls were being pressed flat against your pelvis. You were being split in two, the two of them worked in sync to draw out the high pitched whimpers from your throat, bullying their way into your pussy until you were stuffed to the brim.
"That's it," Jay whispered in your ear, tightening his arms to keep you from collapsing under the weight of them both. "Take these cocks, angel. Show us how much you can really take."
His words made the room start to blur in a spectrum of light and the heavy thud of the sofa hitting the wall. Jay and Jake had found a devastating coordination—a seamless tag team assault where one was bottoming out against your cervix just as the other was pulling back to the entrance. You were never left empty, never given a second to recoil or catch a single, clean breath.
"God, Jay, your cock feels amazing," Jake barked out in a manic laugh while he watched the way your walls buckled and pulled taut to accommodate both their lengths. "I can feel you pulsing right against me inside her. She's so fucking tight." "You always this tight, babe?"
You were barely tethered to reality not to talk of attempting to respond to him, he was asking like he and his teammate weren’t both fucking your little pussy at the same damn time. "I can’t! You’re—I’m gonna cum again! Please!"
In a moment of panicked overstimulation, you tried to blink through the sweat stinging your eyes to search the shadows for Heeseung's grounding presence or Sunghoon's cold, watchful gaze. But the living room had swallowed them whole, they were nowhere to be found, leaving you entirely at the mercy of the two most insane.
Jake had seemed to develop a fresh obsession with your clit. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for the twitching bundle of nerves with his fingers. The shock of the cold metal of his rings against your feverish, hot skin sent a violent tremor through your entire frame.
"Ah! Wait—! N—no!"
"No? I bet you fucking love it?" "I bet you love being fucked by four random strangers, oh shit."
"I bet this is the best—oh fuck!—I’m going to cum."
"This is the best night of your life. Say it."
"Holy shit! Yes yes yes! This is the best night of my fucking life!"
"You're going to be such a pretty little ice girl for us, you know that? You’ll be the sexiest thing on the ice. Everyone's gonna to look at you and have no idea you were fucked like this, shit, like a whore on a Friday night."
The mention of the ice, the mention of the world outside this suffocating living room felt like a distant dream. Your vision started to tunnel and the edges of the room started to fray into darkness as the dual friction of their bodies and the icy bite of Jake's rings pushed you toward a ledge you couldn't come back from.
A third and what you could tell would be your most violent orgasm of the night was already beginning to bubble up in your stomach, the feeling threatened to short circuit your entire nervous system. Your walls clutched at them with a crushing strength and for a terrifying, blissful second, the world went completely silent as you felt yourself starting to slip out of consciousness right at the peak of your pleasure.
The world didn't just blur, it splintered. Your third orgasm hit you with so much force you sat on the edge of unconsciousness, you tried to hold onto the overwhelming fullness of them both but your vision had started to dissolve into static.
Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a sharp grunt when Jake suddenly pulled out. The loss of his heavy weight was a shock to your system and you were left choking for a breath you couldn't quite find.
"Fuck—"
A second later, you felt the heat of his cum splashing across your chest, the weight of it soaking into the ruined fabric of the dress and landing on your sensitive nipple. He didn't stop, his hand tugging his cock in a final rhythm to coat your skin in the evidence of how much you had ruined him.
At the exact same moment, Jay let out a low moan but he didn’t pull out, if anything, he shoved his cock deeper just as he unlocked his fingers from behind your head and you immediately felt his cum beginning to fill you up, a heavy, internal tide that pushed you over the final ledge.
The heavy sound of their breathing was the last thing you registered before you slipped into a dark, unconsciousness, completely and utterly spent.
Is that a bird? You thought. No way that’s a bird but there was a chirp piercing through the fog of your consciousness. You winced as you tried to blink the world into focus, the ceiling above you was familiar, the off white and the faint water stain in the corner were familiar but the context was all wrong.
You were in your own dorm room.
The confusion hit like a physical weight and made your heart hammer against your ribs. You felt clean too, with the lingering scent of a citrusy body wash clinging to your skin but when you managed to push yourself up, the fabric of what you were wearing felt heavy and oversized. It wasn't your silk slip of Zoya’s dress, it was a thick, grey hoodie that smelled faintly of Jay's cologne and a pair of soft athletic shorts that definitely didn't belong to you.
A sharp ache blossomed in your lower back the moment you shifted, followed by a dull soreness between your thighs that made you hiss through your teeth. So you definitely didn’t dream up last night, the memory of all four of them, from Sunghoon fucking your face to Heeseung’s grip on your throat and the brutal weight of Jay and Jake stretching you to the brink, everything came rushing back in a vivid flood.
You reached up to trace the sensitive skin of your neck. Even without a mirror, you could feel the tender heat of the hickeys littered all across your collarbone and neck. You pulled back the hem of the oversized hoodie and gasped at the blossoming bruises on your hips, they were perfectly symmetrical to where Jay and Heeseung had grabbed you.
"How did I get back here?" you whispered to yourself and reached for your bedside table, expecting to find your cracked phone screen and a half empty water bottle. Instead, your hand brushed against the wicker of a massive, overflowing gift basket. It was filled with things that had no business being in a college dorm room—high end skincare, a silk robe, a plushie and boxes of artisanal chocolates.
But sitting right at the center and gleaming under the morning sun, was a pair of professional grade figure skates looking like something you would never buy cause of how expensive you knew they were. The white leather was pristine, the blades polished to a lethal shine and as you pulled them closer, you saw your initials—your initials—expertly embroidered into the heel in silver thread.
Tucked into the laces was a small card. You opened it with shaking fingers to read the scribbled words.
Thank you for the lovely night, doll face.
— The Hockey Team
These boys had seen you at your most ruined, they had taken apart every bit of your composure until you literally blacked out in their arms and then they had washed you, brought you back to your own bed and tucked you into bed like you were something precious.
You were tracing the silver embroidery on the skates when the door to your dorm swung open with a violent bang. Zoya practically vibrated into the room in a whirlwind of excitement and messy hair, her voice was already at a pitch that made your sore head throb even more.
"You will not believe him!" she shrieked, collapsing onto the foot of your bed without even looking up. "Jungwon is—god, he's actually the sweetest human alive. He sent me like five texts checking if I got in okay, even though he walked me back and now we're going on a date tonight? I'm going to throw up, I'm so nervous. You have to help me, I need to breathe, I need—"
She stopped mid sentence when her eyes finally landed on you. Her jaw dropped as she took in the oversized hoodie, the tangled mess of your hair and the undeniable hickey just above your collarbone. Then, her gaze drifted to the massive basket and the gleaming skates.
"Oh my," she breathed, her voice dropping into a stunned, reverent whisper. "Wait...is this from Jay? Stop, that is actually so hot. Did you guys...did you actually have sex? Tell me everything!"
"Yeah…we did. Something like that."
"No way! You're kidding! And he sent all this!?" Zoya shrieked, lunging forward to tackle you into the pillows while you wracked your brain for a less insane version of the story you were going to feed her, a version where you had sex with just Jay.
Exactly three weeks later, it was hockey season and the biting chill of the practice rink felt like a sanctuary these days rather than a chore. You glided through a series of warm up laps with the other ice girls in the brand new skates that now felt like a natural extension of your own body. They were perfectly broken in, like a silent reminder of a night that still felt like a fever dream every time you closed your eyes.
Zoya was a few feet away in a blur of focus and grace. She tucked into a tight, centered spin, her arms pulling in as she gained a dizzying amount of speed. It was genuinely impressive, she had the kind of technical precision that usually took years to master and you couldn't help but pause to watch her finish with a sharp flourish. "Show off," you teased her.
She laughed but her attention was immediately pulled toward the far end of the rink when the loud thud of the gate opening echoed through the arena, followed by the aggressive clack-clack of blades hitting the ice. The hockey team was filing out for their scheduled practice and their presence instantly shifted the energy of the room from quiet focus to something loud and electric.
Jungwon didn't even bother wavering the moment he spotted Zoya, he skated straight to her in fluid movements despite the heavy pads. He caught her by the waist and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her lips that had her giggling like a schoolgirl.
"See you after?" he asked loud enough for you to hear, before skating off toward the center circle. As you watched him skate away, your eyes drifted to the rest of the team and you found Jake almost immediately. He was leaning against the boards with his helmet tucked under one arm while he watched you with those eyes. When he realized you were looking back at him, he didn't look away, instead he let his eyes drop to the silver initials on your skates before snapping back to yours with a wink that said everything and nothing at all.
Zoya’s head whipped toward you, her eyes wide cause she caught the tail end of the exchange. "Woah, woah—what was that? Jake? Seriously?" She skated closer and poked your arm with a gloved finger. "Does Jay know his teammate is giving you those kinds of googly eyes? Are you trying to start a locker room war?"
A slow heat curled in your gut but didn't say a word. You just looked at her and held her gaze for a beat, then made a deliberate show of zipping your lips together and throwing away the key with a flick of your wrist.
"Stop! You are so mean!" Zoya squealed, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around in a circle. She started whining, her voice echoing off the high ceilings as she begged for just one little detail. "You can't do that to me! I tell you everything about Jungwon! Is it a thing? Is it a secret thing?"
You just laughed, the sound bright and clear against the ice, enjoying the way she was spiraling into a hysterical frenzy. You watched the guys start their drills—Heeseung’s effortless authority, Jay’s raw power, Jake’s erratic energy and Sunghoon’s cold precision.
Zoya could have her dinner dates and her sweet texts with Jungwon, this was a secret that no one else needed to know—except, perhaps, next year's chosen ice girl.
What happens when Sunghoon is forced to realize that every action has its equal and violent consequence? He truly must have committed unspeakable crimes in his past life to deserve a retribution as calculated as you—a woman who transformed from his broken toy into the very wrath sent to ruin him.
nsfw warnings ── toxic power dynamics, gaslighting, extreme psychological manipulation, infidelity, obsessive behavior, public humiliation, familial betrayal, dubious consent (emotional coercion), graphic sexual encounters, excessive profanity, narcissistic abuse, and alcohol consumption. if i missed any it’s to avoid spoilers.
prequel
word count ── 7.9k
Sunghoon is currently leaned back against the headboard of his bed, shirtless and watching the window through the expensive curtains of his apartment. A month had passed since that night and somehow the air of ruin that had destroyed everyone else's lives had only served to build him a throne. He was the only one who had walked out of that house with his crown intact.
Jay and Jake were in something of a social exile, their messy, years long deception finally curdling their reputations but who really cares about people being gay these days? But Sunghoon was a victim, he was the noble boyfriend who had been betrayed by his girlfriend and his best friend. The narrative was perfect and the rewards were even better. His gaze shifted to the door of the ensuite bathroom, you were in there probably fixing your makeup, moving with that quiet, tentative tread you'd adopted lately. For four weeks you’d become a shell of yourself, so consumed by the guilt of your mistake with Jay that you had become a servant to Sunghoon's every whim. You cooked for him, you anticipated his moods, always looking at him with such desperate eyes that it almost made him want to laugh. You were working so hard to earn back the trust of a man who had never actually lost it because he had never been faithful to begin with.
Then there was Leah.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand with a text that he didn't even need to open to know it was from her. Leah was a different kind of fun. Where you were desperate for forgiveness, Leah was oh so desperate for supremacy. She was obsessed with the secret they shared—the adrenaline of cheating right under your nose made her crazy in a way Sunghoon was oddly attracted to. She wanted to be his number one and she was willing to degrade herself in ways you wouldn't dream of just to prove she was more loyal than you.
He had you both exactly where he wanted you, you in his bed seeking redemption and Leah in the shadows seeking a title.
The door opened and you stepped out wearing one of his oversized shirts looking so small and fragile. "I made you coffee," you told him, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to touch his hand like you were afraid he'd recoil. "What are your plans today, Hoon?"
Sunghoon reached out, tangling his fingers in your hair to pull you closer. He didn't answer immediately, he liked to let the silence stretch until you looked like you were on the verge of tears.
"I’m not sure yet," he finally murmured, his voice smooth and devoid of the hurt he had been weaponizing for the past four weeks. He felt a surge of power, Sunghoon had cheated, he had lied and in the grand scheme of things he had won. He was the only one who knew the truth and as long as he kept you and Leah spiraling in your own competitions, he would never have to pay for a thing, he would never pay for the consequences of his actions.
"You're a good girl," he added, loving the way you visibly melted at the words. He caught his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed, feeling utterly untouchable.
He trailed his hands to your waist and adjusted you so you were now straddling him, his face buried for a moment in the crook of your neck. He breathed you in, savoring the way you stayed perfectly still, as if you were yielding to him completely. This was his favorite part of the game, he loved the absolute submission born from your misplaced shame.
The relentless vibration of his phone against the nightstand broke the silence. He reached for it and immediately let out a hiss of annoyance, tossing the device back onto the mattress as if it had burned him and rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful.
"What is it, babe?" you asked, your hand tentatively smoothing the hair at the nape of his neck. "Did something happen?"
"My father," he spat the name like a curse. "He wants another one of those miserable family dinners tomorrow. God, I hate that word. He always uses it like it's supposed to mean something."
He leaned back again, the mask of the composed victim was slipping to reveal the raw edges of his elitism and if you weren't so blinded by your own consuming guilt, you would've noticed it immediately. "Those people aren't my family. They're more like intruders. That woman is nothing but a gold digger and a whore who caught my father at a weak moment, and her son—" He cut himself off with a bitter laugh. "Jungwon is the most arrogant, insufferable brat I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. He walks around that house like he owns the fucking floorboards and father just eats it up."
You stayed quiet, just letting him vent and tracing soothing circles against his skin until the tension in his shoulders finally began to bleed away. You were the only one who could tame him like this, or at least he let you believe you were. He felt a smug sense of pride watching you work so hard to fix his mood.
His phone buzzed again and this time he snatched it up, you watched his lip curl in disgust as he read the second message. "How fantastic. It gets better, baby. Apparently, the little prince wants to introduce his new girlfriend to everyone. My father expects us to be there to welcome her into the fold."
Sunghoon tossed the phone aside again and pulled you flush against his chest this time, sliding his down to grip your hips possessively. "I can already see her," he scoffed with condescension. "Some airhead who's fallen for Jungwon's perfect gentleman act. Probably some flavor of the month socialite who doesn't have two fucking brain cells to rub together. Jungwon has zero taste, he just picks whoever is going to look best in a photo op."
"But I have to go. I'd rather endure a night of staring at whatever bimbo he's brought home than deal with my father's lectures about unity and him dangling my trust over my head. You're coming with me, of course. I need you there to remind them what a real woman looks like."
His lips nipped at your earlobe, a dark smile spreading on his lips. "And besides...I want them to see how much you adore me. It'll make Jungwon's little debut look pathetic in comparison."
You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words
"Hoon...I can't tomorrow. It's my sister's bridal shower remember? I told you about it last week, I'm supposed to be there all day."
Sunghoon's hands on your hips went rigid the second the words left your mouth, he didn't say a word at first, he did stare at you with those piercing eyes that made you feel like a specimen under a microscope.
"A bridal shower," he repeated. "So your sister's party is more important than my father's command? More important than supporting me through a night with those vultures?"
"Hoon, please, I've been planning it for months," your heart already beginning to race. "I'm the maid of honor, I can't just—"
"I bet if it were Jay asking, you'd find a way to be there," he snapped. It was his favorite weapon these days, the ultimate trump card he pulled whenever he wanted to remind you of your place.
"No! Hoon, that's not fair, you know I—I'll do anything to make it up to you, I promise. I'll come over right after, I'll stay the whole weekend, I'll—"
"Shut it," he muttered, his hurt victim act vanishing to reveal the cold tyrant beneath. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You're all the same. You claim you want to earn my trust but the second I actually need you, you have plans."
He stood up abruptly, roughly shifting his weight so suddenly that he tossed you off his lap. You landed on the mattress with a soft thud, scrambling to sit up as he looked down at you with utter disdain. He wasn't even looking at your face anymore; his gaze was fixed on your legs, his expression almost transactional.
"If you're going to be useless to me at dinner, you might as well be useful to me now," he said with no affection in his tone. "Take your panties off. Now."
You looked at him, searching for even a flicker of the boy who used to love you so much but all you saw was the man who held your reputation in his hands. Shaking, your fingers moved to the waistband of your lace underwear, slowly sliding them down your legs while he watched you with a bored look on his face.
He stood there enjoying the sight of your submission. "You're going to stay just like that until I'm satisfied," he murmured as he pushed his pajama pants down slowly. "And maybe, if you're good enough, I'll consider forgiving you for being so selfish."
──.୨ৎ
Sunghoon killed the engine of his car but he couldn't bring himself to move yet, he needed the time to gather himself so he sat in the silence of his leather trimmed sanctuary, gripping the steering wheel until his fingers started to tingle. Outside, the sprawling driveway of the Park estate was bathed in the warm, mocking glow of the mansion's exterior lights but then the his eyes caught the baby blue G-Wagon parked crookedly just a few yards away.
The vehicle seemed to be rocking on its suspension in a rhythmic, almost violent motion that made Sunghoon's lip curl in a snarl of pure disgust. Even though the windows were tinted, the silhouettes were unmistakable.
Of course, Sunghoon thought. The venom in his mind dripping over every word. Of course the little prince couldn't even make it through the front door without acting like a rutting animal.
He stepped out of his car, the click of his shoes against the gravel was sharp and as he drew closer to the car to head toward the front steps, the soundproofing of the luxury SUV failed to drown out the noise. The girl's moans were high pitched and entirely too loud for a residential driveway.
"Do you like that?" His step brother's voice drifted out, it was muffled but recognizable with ghat smug arrogance that made Sunghoon's stomach turn. "Tell me you love my cock. Tell me who you belong to."
"Yes! Yes, I love it! Please, Wonie!" the girl screamed, her voice hitting an airheaded crescendo that echoed off the stone walls.
It made Sunghoon stop in his tracks, his frame rigid and his expression a mask of frozen disdain. Disgusting. Utterly primitive. He looked up at the darkened windows of his father's study, wondering how the man could be so blind. This was the boy his father was constantly comparing him to—a boy who had zero respect for the family home, zero dignity and apparently, zero standards as well.
Jungwon's new girlfriend was exactly what he expected—a loud, brainless girl with no sense of decorum, willing to be bent over the console of a car like a common street whore. To think his father expected Sunghoon to sit at a table to break bread and play nice with a girl who was currently screaming her lungs out in the driveway was an insult to his very existence.
She isn't even worth the effort of an introduction, Sunghoon thought, smoothing his jacket with a sharp motion. She's a placeholder, a toy for a boy who doesn't know the first thing about power or restraint.
He had just spent his whole day yesterday making you beg for a scrap of his grace and here was his step brother, practically begging for the attention of a girl who sounded like she had the depth of a light rain puddle.
He reached the front doors and the heavy oak door swung back to reveal the sterile, golden grandeur of the foyer. He would literally give anything for his father to see the contrast between the son who arrived with composure and the boy who was currently staining the interior of a Mercedes.
He didn't even have his coat off before the sound of heels clicking against marble announced her arrival. "Sunghoon! You're finally here," she chirped, smelling of expensive perfume and desperation—a combination he'd learned to identify long ago.
She reached out, arms opening for a motherly embrace that smelled just as shallow as her wedding vows, but Sunghoon didn't break his stride, he side stepped her instead. Not even a flinch and she was left hugging the air where he had been a second before, her hands awkwardly clutching at nothing, she was quick to catch herself though.
"Where is my father?" Sunghoon asked not even looking at her, too busy adjusting his watch, as if her proximity alone had somehow knocked his perfection out of alignment.
"He's in his study with—"
"Perfect," he interrupted, finally sliding his eyes toward her with the kind of look he usually gave Leah when she cried too loudly. "Try not to hover. It's unbecoming."
"Now, now, Sunghoon," his father's voice boomed from the top of the stairs, bouncing off the walls with that easy confidence that only comes with a high net worth. He descended the steps with a soft smile, looking every bit the patriarch he was. "Don't be so cold to your mother. She's just happy to see you."
He didn't even look at the woman standing there but he felt her presence like a smudge on a clean window. "She's not my mother," the words barely leaving his lips. It was like reflex to him now, a small piece of truth he threw out every time they decided to do this dance. His father swept past him but not before clapping a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "Let's sit. I'm starving and I have a feeling the kitchen has outdone itself tonight."
"Jungwon is just a little late," his step mother sang out. "He'll be here any second, I'm sure of it."
Little late, Sunghoon thought, his eyes focused on the dust motes dancing in the light of the chandelier. Jungwon is fucking some bimbo in the driveway and he's going to walk in here soon and pretend nothing happened. He pulled out his chair, imagining you sitting there beside him, then he remembered why you weren't there, he remembered you were at your sister's bridal shower and it made a bitter taste flood his mouth.
"Oh, Sunghoon! You really should have met the lovely girl Jungwon brought over last weekend," her voice rising in excitement as she began to pour the wine. "She is just the sweetest thing. So polite and wholesome. She's exactly the kind of girl Jungwon needs."
Sunghoon's gaze stayed fixed on the silver fork in front of him, polite and wholesome. He wanted to laugh at the thought of a girl who could debase herself in the front of her boyfriend's family home as polite and wholesome. He wondered if Jungwon's girl had any idea what kind of animal she was dating or if she was just another prop in his step brother's own twisted theater.
"I'm sure she's a delight," Sunghoon said sarcastically. "I look forward to seeing how long she lasts before she realizes what kind of man your son is." He smiled at her but that smile quickly dropped when he heard his father's raised voice. "Park Sunghoon!" "You will not speak about your brother like that! We respect each other in this house." Those words unfortunately led to a lecture that somehow pivoted to his college education, "Law school isn't just about the pedigree, Sunghoon," his father continued with his usual steady drone of expectations. "It's about the endurance. Your grades are stable, but I need to see more focus. Less time at those campus parties, more time in the archives. You need to understand that once you graduate, the grace period is—"
The heavy dining room doors groaned open cutting the words from his father short. Sunghoon didn't even look up at first, his mind had drifted back to the annoyance he felt toward you for choosing a bridal shower over him. He was ready to watch Jungwon stroll in with some mindless girl he'd picked up from a sorority house, he was simply prepared to be unimpressed.
"Sorry for the wait," Jungwon's voice rang out, making the hair on the back of Sunghoon's neck stand up for some reason. "We got a little...distracted."
Sunghoon's eyes finally snapped up and for a second the world tilted, the grandeur of the room seemed to bleed into a blur of sickening realization. There, standing on Jungwon's arm, was you. You weren't at a bridal shower, you weren't wearing some floral sundress or helping your sister with ribbons and party games. You were wearing something sharp, that made you look expensive and sinful and your lips were slightly swollen—the exact same way they looked when Sunghoon finished with you.
The girl he had been internally mocking for being wholesome, the girl Jungwon had just been fucking in the driveway while Sunghoon watched with clinical disgust from the window.
It was you.
"Oh, sweetheart! You're back!" Jungwon's mother gushed, already on her feet with a beaming, smile. She crossed the room to you and took your hands in hers as if you were already her daughter. "It's so good to see you again. Jungwon hasn't stopped talking about how much he adores you since last weekend."
Sunghoon felt the air leave his lungs, his vision tunneled until all he could see was the way Jungwon's hand stayed firmly planted on the small of your back in a possessive touch that screamed of intimacy.
His mind quickly became a violent loop of contradictions. You told me you were with your family. You told me you were guilty. You're my toy. You're the one I broke. Across the table, Jungwon caught Sunghoon's eyes and he didn't look away when a smirk made its way to his face. Jungwon had been playing a much deeper game than Sunghoon ever realized.
"Sunghoon hyung," Jungwon said, his voice dripping with politeness that really just felt like a slap. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me you forgot to say hello to my girlfriend?"
"It's nice to see you again, Sunghoon," you say with no usual tremor in your voice, you even offer him a small smile, the type someone gives a person they’re not close to, or a loser. Every instinct he has is screaming at him to lung forward, to grab your wrist and drag you out into the hallway and demand what the hell you're doing. The bridal shower? The lie tasted like ash in his mouth.
But his father is watching.
"You two know each other?" his father asks, clearly interested in the silence radiating from his eldest son
"We go to the same university," Jungwon quickly answers for you, pulling out your chair at the same time. "Small world, right?"
Sunghoon forced a breath through his nose and looked at you, trying to find a flicker of the girl who had been begging for his forgiveness for the past four weeks but all he could see was the sweetheart his stepmother had praised…Jungwon’s girlfriend.
"Small indeed," Sunghoon finally managed to say.
"Anyway," Jungwon's mother chirped, oblivious to the silent war happening across the centerpiece. "Tell us everything! How did you two meet? It must have been so romantic."
Sunghoon's eyes locked onto yours, like he was still trying to see if he could control you, to have you show some fear or even some shame but you just looked away and answered her question. "It was actually very sweet, Ma’am."
"He helped me when I was really in need and I couldn’t help myself—I fell for him. Jungwon really is a darling. You’ve raised him well."
Jungwon really was sweet to you, well maybe not in the beginning at least. The silence of the library was usually your sanctuary, it was the one place where the suffocating guilt of that night didn't feel like it was actively crushing your chest. For two weeks, you had been living in a state of self inflicted pain. You had replayed that night a thousand times, from the look on Sunghoon's face, to the sound of Heeseung and Calista’s laughs and without even realizing it, you had let Sunghoon turn that guilt and pain into a collar.
You were trying so hard, you’d even gone to Leah for advice, finding solace and comfort in her from time to time, genuinely believing she was your best friend.
Your phone buzzed on the table with a notification.
Unknown Number: [1 Video Attachment]
You thought it was a scam or perhaps another cruel joke from Heeseung but then you pressed play.
The video was in high definition, filmed from a distant balcony view. You immediately recognized the blue shimmer of the pool in Sunghoon’s family estate from when you’d spent weekends there. He told you he was traveling out of town for family business, he had ben insinuated it was a somber trip he needed to take alone to clear his head from the stress you had caused him.
In the frame, Sunghoon wasn't working or relaxing to clear his head. He was on a lounge chair by the pool, his head tilted back and his hands gripping the waist of a girl who was straddling him with practiced ease.
You dropped the phone like it had burned you when said girl threw her head back and you saw Leah’s face. You began to tremble right there in the library thinking of all the times you’d confided in her, yet here she was—fucking your boyfriend. You picked up your phone again with shaking hands and watched him pull her down for a kiss in that same way he kissed you and you felt your world fracture. The guilt that had been your shadow suddenly vanished, replaced by a cold clarity. Through your blurry eyes filling with tears you see two more notifications.
Unknown Number: He thinks he's alone. Hyung’s always been bad at checking corners.
Unknown Number: It’s Jungwon btw. I believe we have a mutual interest in making sure Sunghoon doesn't get everything he wants. Give me a call if you're tired of being the only one holding the debt.
You hesitated before managing to walk out of the library to dial the number. Jungwon answered on the first ring. "I wondered how long it would take you to watch it," he said sounding entirely too amused with himself.
"Why are you showing me this?" you whispered with a rage you didn't know you had.
"Because my brother has a habit of collecting things he doesn't appreciate," Jungwon said to you. "He likes the way he can make you cry and then make you thank him for it. And I find it so fucking boring. Don’t you think it's insulting to someone with your...potential?"
"What do you want?"
"I just want to see the look on his face when his perfect life finally collapses." You could’ve sworn you could just sense the evil radiating through the phone. "He hates me, you know? He thinks I'm some intruder in his house. Imagine how he'll feel when he finds out his broken little girlfriend is actually mine."
"I'm not yours," you snapped.
"Not yet," Jungwon countered, he really did have alluring energy about him. "But think about it. I’m pretty sure you want revenge and I want to replace him. We could be useful to each other."
You could’ve gotten nominated for an academy award with the way you acted in the weeks leading up to tonight. You played the part of the guilty girlfriend so perfectly, there was no doubt you had him fooled, you nodded when he ranted about his useless problems. You watched him get angry when you told him you couldn’t come to dinner with him, you watched him use your mistake to try and manipulate you into canceling. And for the first time it didn't hurt at all, it just made you want to see him burn even more.
When you first met Jungwon for dinner, you no doubt had your guard up. You fully expected a younger, maybe louder version of Sunghoon. Instead, you found a natural born predator who knew how to hide his teeth really. He was the perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and listening with an intensity that Sunghoon only ever reserved for his own reflection. He didn't lecture you on your how you’d made a mistake by getting with his step brother in the first place, or that you trusted him too much but by the end of the night you felt like you were the only person in the room.
You had to keep repeating the mantra in your head—they aren't blood, they aren't related. It was the only way to keep the vertigo from taking over. Jungwon was supposedly the intruder in Sunghoon's life, their relationship was simply a byproduct of a second marriage and that distance was exactly what made the idea of him so dangerous.
You didn't intend to go home with him that first night, in fact you didn’t intend to ever go home with him at all and you certainly didn't intend to let him touch you. But then you were in the parking lot and the city lights were blurred by the tinted glass of his car, the air between you turned electric. You quickly found out he had a thing for fucking in cars, maybe it was the claustrophobia of the leather seats or the risk of being seen, you had no idea, all you knew was that it was primal and messy. You also quickly found out you had a thing for how easily he could unravel you.
Sex with Sunghoon always felt like an audition, you were constantly performing for him, having to say the right things so he would be satisfied. Jungwon didn’t care about any of that, he was too focused on the way your face looked when he was bouncing you on his cock, he always made sure you lost your voice and wouldn’t stop until you were shaking and begging.
And tonight in the driveway, he was exactly the same. Pinning you against the backseat and reminding you of exactly what you were about to do. He made you cum so hard you nearly forgot your own name, let alone the fact that you were a mere thirty feet from his family.
"Think of how much he thinks he owns you and then tell me how good this cock feels." It damn sure felt better than anything Sunghoon had ever given you.
Now, as you sit across from Sunghoon at his father's table, you can still feel the faint ache in your thighs, along with the ghost of Jungwon's touch under your dress. You look at Sunghoon, he looks pale as he vibrates with a repressed fury and you realize the debt has almost been paid in full.
As the main course is served and the clink of silverware is the only sound in the room, Sunghoon finally speaks in a voice so low it's almost a growl. "So, Jungwon...exactly how long has this romance been going on? You've been rather quiet about her."
Jungwon takes a slow sip of his wine, his eyes dancing in delight as he looks at you the back at his step brother. "Long enough for me to know she’s the one," he says, reaching under the table to slide his hand up your inner thigh, mere inches away from where Sunghoon's eyes are fixed. "She's so full of surprises, Hyung. I absolutely adore her." He finishes placing a kiss on your cheek at which his mother gushes in excitement.
From then on the night becomes full blown psychological torture for Sunghoon. Every time you laugh at one of his father's dry jokes or offer some soft words to Jungwon’s mother, it’s like you can feel Sunghoon's pulse drumming from across the table. He looks like a man watching his own house burn down while being forced to applaud the flames. The irony is thick enough to choke on. His father, who he has spent his entire life trying to impress is completely charmed by you.
"Sunghoon," his father says, leaning with a rare look of genuine approval on his face. "You should take notes. Jungwon has finally shown some discernment. You'd do well to find a girl just like this lovely lady right here. Not like those...distractions you usually surround yourself with."
Sunghoon's knuckles are white with how hard he’s trying not to scream. He wants to stand up and roar that you are his girl, that you belong in his apartment and under his thumb, drowning in the guilt he spent a month cultivating. But he can't because to speak up now would be to admit he lost control, it would be him admitting that Jungwon, the arrogant intruder, took something right from under his nose.
When dinner finally ends and you and Jungwon reach the doors of the foyer, ready to leave, Sunghoon doesn’t just follow you, he marches towards you and lunges forward, grabbing your wrist with so much force that you wince.
"What the fuck is this, Y/n?" he hissed, his eyes darting between you and his step-brother. "What are you doing here? The bridal shower? You think you can just lie to me and walk into my father's house on his arm?" He turns his anger toward Jungwon. "And you. You think this is some fucking game? You think you can just take whatever—"
"Woah, woah," Jungwon interjects, stepping forward with a lazy calm, not looking the least bit intimidated, he just looks like he's enjoying every second of Sunghoon's meltdown as he places a firm hand on Sunghoon's forearm, forcing him to loosen his grip on you. "Please don't talk to my girlfriend like that, Hyung. It's a bit ungentlemanly, don't you think?"
Sunghoon's eyes go wide as his chest heaves. "Your girlfriend? Jungwon, you have no idea what you're talking about. She’s not—"
"Are you lost, Hoonie?"
You step closer to him, tilting your head and pouting up at him with the same innocence he used to mock you. The look in your eyes is stone cold though, you’re looking at him like he's a stranger and a pathetic one at that. "You seem really confused. Maybe the stress of law school is finally getting to you."
Jungwon chuckles, pulling you back against his side, his arm draping possessively over your waist. "Seems like he is, princess. He's completely lost it."
Jungwon looks his brother up and down, "Tell you what, hyung," he starts. "Why don't you pull up to my penthouse tonight? I feel like I missed out on all the fun the other night. Let's play another game of paranoia. I have a few questions of my own...and I’m sure you want answers."
Sunghoon stands there frozen in the doorway of his own home, as Jungwon leads you toward the car. He even watches the taillights fade until the silence of the estate settles over him like a shroud.
The drive to Jungwon’s place was a blur of neon lights and tight knuckled grips for Sunghoon. His mind was a chaotic mess of logic and jagged anger, he had managed to convince himself he was going there to talk sense into you, to drag you away from the toxic influence of his step brother and remind you of the debt you owed him. But as he stepped out of the elevator and into the sleek entryway of Jungwon's apartment, the air felt different and he began to doubt if he could actually pull it off.
The heavy bass of the music didn't sound like a party to him, it sounded like a taunt.
He walked right to the living room and expected to find you and Jungwon alone in some twisted confrontation. Instead, he was met with a scene that felt like a curated nightmare.
The usual crowd was scattered across the plush sofas. Jake was leaning against the bar, looking entirely too comfortable in Jay’s arms. The litmus test from a month ago had clearly reached its conclusion and Sunghoon was the only one who hadn't been invited to the reveal.
Leah was also there tucked into the corner of a sectional, looking like she wanted to completely disappear. The second Sunghoon's eyes found her, she flinched and dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap. She couldn’t look him in the eye in a way that had Sunghoon wondering if they’d been caught.
Then, he saw you perched comfortably on Jungwon's lap, your fingers idly playing with his chain as if it was the most natural place in the world for you to be. Ume was leaning in close, letting you whisper something into her ear that made her throw her head back in a genuine laugh.
You wouldn't have been brazen enough to invite Calista or Heeseung but this group of people felt more intimate somehow.
"Well, well," a voice chirped, breaking through the ringing in Sunghoon's ears. Jake straightened up as he looked Sunghoon up and down. "Look who decided to show up. You've been a very bad boy, Hoonie. Keeping secrets, hiding away...I didn't think you had it in you to be this messy."
Sunghoon didn't even acknowledge him, his eyes were locked on you, burning with a question he couldn't ask out loud in front of them for fear of humiliation.
Jungwon tightened his hold on your waist and pulled you a fraction closer as he looked up at his brother. The lighting in the penthouse was dim, casting long, predatory shadows across his face. "You're late, Sunghoon," Jungwon said, his voice smooth and almost welcoming, if Sunghoon didn’t know what Jungwon was like, he wouldn’t have noticed the edge his voice carried.
"But don't worry. We haven't started the game yet. We were just waiting for the guest of honor to arrive."
You finally looked at him then, observing his disheveled hair and his erratic breathing with a detached sort of pity that hurt worse than a slap.
"Sit down, Sunghoon," you said mirroring the exact tone he had used on you for weeks. "You look tired. You should have a drink before we start. You're going to need it."
As everyone settled into the makeshift circle, you were clearly the center of gravity on Jungwon's lap, while Sunghoon was an island of his own misery on the far edge of the room.
"Everyone remembers the rules, right?" you asked, your voice cutting through the low hum of the music. You didn't wait for an answer, you immediately leaned into Jungwon, letting your lips brush against the shell of his ear to whisper the first strike. "Who here is a lying, cheating bastard?"
A dark, amused huff escaped him as he looked directly across the space. "Sunghoon."
The silence that followed was deafening. Sunghoon didn't argue, he simply reached for his glass, willing his hand to stop trembling and drained it in one jagged motion. Jungwon's smirk widened as he revealed the question to the room, watching the realization sink into the group like lead.
When the turn moved to Sunghoon, he stared at his empty glass, before muttering a, "Pass."
The room erupted in mock boos and biting whistles. "Afraid of the truth, Sunghoon?" Jake teased before leaning back into Jay's touch. "Golden boy can't even play a party game?"
Jungwon didn't let the momentum die. He leaned toward Ume, whispering a question that made her eyes go wide. She gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. "No way! I don't know—who is it?"
The curiosity in the room spiked while Ume looked around the circle. "The question was...Who here is pregnant?"
Jay and Jake exchanged a stunned look while Sunghoon's gaze darted around frantically, if you weren't reacting, if you were sitting there with that calm smile then it wasn't you. And Ume had already denied it, so that left only one person.
Leah.
Who was sat perfectly still, eyes fixed on a spot on the rug as her face continued to drain of color.
Sunghoon looked at her then at you, feeling the bile rising in his throat. From the pool lounge chair, to the laundry room and every other place he had had sex with her—it all crashed down on him at once, he looked like he was about to be physically sick.
"Leah is pregnant," your voice rang out with a terrifying lack of emotion. The words hit Sunghoon like a physical blow, he had spent a month trying to make you pay for cheating on him with Jay, all while he was planting the seeds of his own destruction in a girl he treated like a toy.
"Is it true?" Sunghoon asked her with his voice sounding like it was being dragged over broken glass. He looked at Leah, eyes wide with a mix of horror and disgust. "Leah, she’s just fucking around, right?"
The silence was her confession.
"Sounds like hyung has some responsibilities he forgot to mention to the family," Jungwon mused, "I wonder what father would think about his future law student starting a family a little ahead of schedule?"
Jake, ever the catalyst of drama leaned into Leah’s space to whisper in her ear, who looked like she was vibrating, a single sob catching in her throat as she forced out a name. "Sunghoon."
Sunghoon didn't even wait for the reveal, he immediately reached for the bottle this time, not a glass to take a desperate swig.
"The question," Jake announced with terrifying cheerfulness, "was, Who here is your baby daddy?"
"You're a lying bitch!" Sunghoon roared, finally losing the mask of superiority he'd worn like a shield for years. He surged forward, his finger pointed at Leah like a weapon. "You're lying! You're trying to trap me because you're obsessed with what Y/n and I have—you'd say anything to stay in my life!"
Leah finally looked up and the fear was gone, now replaced by an intensity that made her eyes burn. "I'm not lying, Sunghoon! I have never been with anyone else! You were my first and only one. You know I'm not lying! Did you ever wear a condom with me? You took everything from me and now you want to call me a liar?" "Screw you."
The silence that followed was so heavy that Jay and Jake couldn’t even mock him anymore, all they could do was just watch the car crash with satisfied expressions. Sunghoon looked around the room with wild eyes, looking for anyone to defend him but he lost all hope when you snorted, "What Y/n and I have is crazy, Sunghoon."
You looked at him with a gaze so filled with fake tenderness that it felt like a twist of a knife.
"Oh, Hoonie," you cooed, echoing the way he used to comfort you after making you cry your eyes out. "Don't be like that. This is a blessing, isn't it?"
"Think about it this way," you continued, "A little girl who looks just like you or maybe even a boy with your grace. You, Leah and the baby. You're going to make such a beautiful family. I can already see the Christmas cards. I'm sure your father will be so proud to see his legacy continuing so...unexpectedly."
Sunghoon looked at you as the realization truly sank in, the realization that the girl he thought he'd broken was the one who had choreographed his funeral.
"I'll even help with the baby shower," you added, the pout returning to your lips. "Since I missed my sister's bridal shower, I have plenty of free time now."
Jungwon let out a low chuckle, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck to tangle his fingers in your hair. "Hear that, Hyung? My princess is even offering to help. You really should be more grateful." He said to him before leaning to Ume to whisper in her ear but she immediately threw her hands up in frustration, the constant whispering finally getting on her nerves. "Seriously? I don't know! Why am I the one getting the hard ones?" She pouted, turning to the circle with her voice loud and fed up. "How am I meant to know who here has lost their inheritance? What does that even mean?"
Sunghoons head snapped toward Jungwon, the defensive look in his eyes was replaced by a sudden dread. He didn't reach for the glass this time, he could barely move.
"What the fuck are you on about, Jungwon?" Sunghoon's voice was a ghost of its former self, all thin and terrified. Jungwon, on the other hand didn't even look up from where he was tracing patterns on your thigh.
"Don’t tell me you didn’t read the fine print, Hyung?" Jungwon asked, "I guess you were so busy being a manipulative cunt that you didn't read the updated trust clauses father had us sign last year."
Jungwon finally looked at him. "It's a purity clause. Father is obsessed with the family image, you should know that better than anyone. It's written in black and white tha any son who produces an illegitimate child, especially one that creates a social scandal, automatically forfeits their entire inheritance. Every cent. The trust, the property, the firm...it all funnels into a single beneficiary."
Jungwon explained and pulled you closer against his chest, "And since I'm currently the only son without a pregnant side chick...it looks like I'm about to become very, very wealthy."
Sunghoon looked like he was seconds away from passing out. His eyes shifted between you and Leah, who was still trembling and clutching her stomach area. One, the girl who had been his broken possession and the other girl who was now the only thing standing between him and complete ruin—and you were sitting comfortably in the lap of the man who was taking his whole life away.
"You knew," he whispered, his gaze landing on you. "You both knew."
"Knew that what, Sunghoon?" "No one asked you to cheat and get a girl pregnant."
"I’d check your pocket if I were you, Hyung," Jungwon said. "I’m pretty sure you’re about to get a call. And you know Father—he hates being kept waiting."
Right on cue, the sharp ringtone of Sunghoon’s phone cut through the sound of Leah’s crying. The name on the screen was enough to make Sunghoon’s knees buckle. He answered with a trembling hand. "Father—"
"You fucking embarrassment!"
The shout was so loud it echoed through the silent room making Sunghoon flinch as if he’d been struck.
"Tell me Jungwon is mistaken!" his father roared over the line. "Tell me you didn't get some girl pregnant! Tell me you haven't been dragging our name through the mud while I was planning your future!"
Sunghoon looked at you as you slowly pressed a lingering kiss to Jungwon’s lips that made him smile.
"Father, please, she’s...she’s a liar," Sunghoon choked out as he looked at Leah. "She’s trying to trap me, I swear—"
Leah’s sob broke into a scream at the word liar but no one moved to comfort her. In the background, Ume was busy gushing over Jay and Jake, her voice a cheerful anddistorted contrast to the carnage. "Oh my god, you guys are actually the cutest! Why did you wait so long?" She pouted at them, watching Jay nuzzle his face deeper to Jake’s neck
"I don't want to hear it!" his father’s voice got louder and louder. "If you’re man enough to play these games then I suppose you’re man enough to fund them. You’re cut off, Sunghoon. Don't bother coming back to the estate to beg for anything! As of right now, you do not exist to me."
The line went dead before he could even think of any sort of explanation to give the man.
The phone slipped from Sunghoon’s fingers and clattered on the floor. He looked at you, then at the happy couple Ume was currently asking a million questions about how they first got together, and finally he looked at the pregnant girl in the corner.
He had spent his life trying to be a masterpiece of calculated moves and manipulative counters but in the end, he was just a footnote in your story.
"Time to go, Hyung," Jungwon said to him with a voice filled with satisfied pity. "You’ve got a family to take care of now."
Before the words could even reach Sunghoon’s ears properly, Jungwon moved with a sudden burst of energy, he hooked his arm around your waist and hoisted you up.
A startled squeal escaped you as you were flipped over his shoulder, your legs kicking out instinctively. "Jungwon! Put me down!" you laughed a mocking laugh that echoed off the walls.
Jungwon didn't listen to you, tightening his grip on your thighs instead as he began to stride toward the hallway. You looked back over his shoulder one last time to see Sunghoon standing frozen like a ghost in a room full of people who had already forgotten him.
"Bye bye, Hoonie!" you called out sweetly with a final dose of irony.
When the heavy door to Jungwon’s bedroom clicked shut, it instantly muffled the sounds of Leah’s crying and the silence of the foyer. Jungwon set you down gently against the door, his hands immediately finding your waist. "So, how did that feel?" he whispered as his eyes searched yours and his thumb traced the line of your lower lip. "Seeing him lose everything?"
"Exhilarating," you breathed, sliding your hands up to cup his face. It wasn't just about the revenge or the power shift anymore.
Jungwon’s expression softened as he looked at you. He didn't just see a partner in a scheme, he saw the only person who truly understood the darkness he had grown up in.
"Good," he murmured with a genuine warmth he saved only for you. "Because from now on, you don't ever have to play for second place again."
He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss that wasn't for show or for an audience. It was slow, deep, and filled with a real affection—a promise that while the rest of your world was built on paranoia and lies, what was happening in this room was the only thing that was real.
nene’s note ── posting this from the hospital cause my mama didn’t raise no bitch! i loveeee feedback and i hope this met the expectations of everyone who was anticipating it! enjoy💋💋💋
A high stakes game of paranoia among a toxic campus group of friends spirals into a brutal social execution as hidden betrayals, illicit affairs and devastating personal secrets are weaponized just for the sake of shattering reputations.
nsfw warnings ── smut, talks of sex, EVERYONE is horrible, don’t root for anyone of them, talks of cheating, use of hard drugs, violence. honestly let me know if i missed any, i wrote this a little unhinged.
sequel
word count ── 4.4k
How to play ── players sit in a circle and take turns whispering a "who" question to the person on their right, that person then publicly names a person in the group as the answer to the question, the person named must either drink to find out the question or decline to drink and remain in the dark.
You shift your feet on the carpet, your knees brushing against Jake on your left and Heeseung on your right. You're still trying to wrap your head around the rules Calista just laid out, her voice sweet but carrying an edge that suggests she's played this game to destroy people before. Your palms are already sweating against your jeans, as you look around the circle at Heeseung, you, Jake, Calista, Sunghoon, Leah, Jay, and Ume all sat in a circle. It feels like a predatory loop, you’ve always thought you were the observant one, the one who passes all her classes while everyone else is out partying, and being thrust into this dynamic feels like being a lamb at a wolf's dinner table.
"I'll start then," Jay says, his voice cutting through the hum of the air conditioner.
He leans over toward Leah, his silver rings glint in the light, as he whispers something into her ear, his expression stays unreadable. You watch Leah's face, she bites her lip and her eyes flicker around the circle before they land on someone. "Jake," she says clearly.
The room goes silent and Jake, who is sat right next to you lets out a dry chuckle. He doesn't hesitate for a second though, immediately reaching for the bottle of vodka in the center of the circle, pouring himself a heavy measure into the shot glass.
"I'm not staying in the dark for that," Jake says, looking straight Leah before tossing the drink back and slamming the glass down. "What was the question?"
Leah clears her throat, looking sheepish. "The question was...who here is most likely to not graduate?"
A few people let out oohs and light laughter, the tension breaking just enough for the game to feel tame. Jake rolls his eyes, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Harsh, Leah. I'm literally passing three of my labs right now."
But your heart is still beating a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The game is moving clockwise, so now it’s Jake's turn to whisper to you, he leans in so close that his shoulder presses firmly against yours and the scent of the alcohol on his breath mixes with his expensive cologne. His hand brushes your arm as he anchors himself to whisper in your ear. "Who in this room," he murmurs, his voice is so low it sends a vibration down your spine, "would you cheat on your partner with?"
A landmine of a question, and stupidly your eyes instinctively flick toward Jay and then toward Sunghoon, whose posture has gone unnervingly rigid beside you.
Your throat feels tight, your palms are slick with sweat. You know can't hesitate too long or you’ll look suspicious, so you take a breath and try to keep your voice steady. "Jay," you say.
Jay's eyebrows shoot up as a grin spreads across his face. He doesn't even look at the shot glass, going straight for the bottle instead, tilting it back for a throat burning swallow. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes locked onto yours.
"I definitely need to know the question for that one," Jay rasps, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "What did you ask our girl, Jake?"
Jake leans back. "The question was…who here would you cheat on your partner with?"
You feel the heavy silence that immediately falls over the circle, it’s suffocating in a way that precedes a storm. You feel Sunghoon's gaze burning into the side of your face, you don’t need to look at him to know his mouth is set in that angry line.
Suddenly the silence is broken by Calista’s sharp laugh, her face lit up maliciously. "Wait," her voice cuts through. "That's a bit redundant, innit? I mean, didn't you already do that?"
Fucking Calista.
You feel like you're shrinking into the floor as Leah and Ume exchange a wide eyed look. Before you can even think of what to say Sunghoon's voice snaps out, "Shut up, Calista," he says with a terrifying authority. He doesn't even look at her, he just stares straight ahead, his knuckles white where they're gripped around his own knees. "It's your turn to whisper to Heeseung." Well it’s not, by the rules of the game it should be Jay’s turn but no one bothers to correct Sunghoon.
You try to swallow the lump in your throat and pretend you can’t sense the tension vibrating between you, Sunghoon and Jay.
Heeesung next to you is sat with a deceptively relaxed look on his face, his eyes betray him though, they remain sharp, tracking the fallout of the last round with interest.
You lean in, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance, "Who in this room," you whisper, "do you think is secretly an alcoholic?"
He stiffens for a split second before a raspy laugh leaves his chest. He pulls back with a smirk dancing on his lips as he scans the faces in the circle, lingering on the glass in Leah's hand. "Leah," he says, his voice clear and resonant. "Obviously."
Her name lands with a dull thud but Heeseung doesn't stop there, he leans back on his elbows and continues. "I mean, the whole party girl aesthetic is a great mask, right? It's easy to hide the shakes when everyone expects you to have a drink in your hand twenty four-seven."
You had expected Heeseung to answer Jay, everyone always talks about how he drinks too much but Heeseung being the shit starter he is just had to pick her.
Leah's face pales immediately and her forced smile from earlier completely vanishes. She looks down at the half full shot glass in front of her and her fingers trembling slightly. Everyone is watching her, waiting for her to reach for the bottle and demand to know what question would make Heeseung make such a pointed comment.
But Leah doesn't move. "I don't want to know," she says, "I'm staying in the dark."
"Oh, come on, Leah," Jake groans from beside you, his voice dripping with agitation. He's already tipsy and his competitive streak getting soured by the heavy atmosphere. "Don't be boring. It's a game. Just drink and get it over with."
"Leave her alone, Jake," you snap, the words come out of your mouth before you can think. You feel the heat of Sunghoon's gaze on you, probably surprised by your sudden sharp tongue. You look over at Leah and offer a small nod. "She said she doesn't want to know. Let's move on."
Leah looks up at you with her eyes glassy with unshed tears, she shoots you a look of gratitude.
The bottle is slid toward Heeseung now, he has to whisper to Ume but you can't help but feel like the vibe in the room has shifted from a party game to a battlefield.
"Can’t I just pick who I want to whisper to instead?" He asks and Calista being as equally aggravating as he is agrees with him. "Sure you can!"
So instead, Heeseung gets up and hands over to Ume, crowding her space, his lips almost brushing her ear. Whatever he whispers is a long string of murmurs that lasts just a few seconds too many. You watch the playful smirk on Ume's face fade, her nose wrinkled in a display of revulsion. "God, Heeseung," Ume spits out, her voice sharp with a mix of shock and genuine disgust. "That's actually disgusting. You're such a weirdo."
Jay shifts forward, clearly intrigued by the sudden spike in hostility, while Sunghoon's jaw remains tight. Ume looks around the circle, her eyes landing right back on the man who whispered to her.
"It's him," she announces, pointing a finger directly at Heeseung. "The answer is Heeseung."
Heeseung lets out a mocking laugh that makes your skin prickle, he tilts his head to the side as he stares Ume down with a terrifyingly calm intensity.
"Funny," Oh God. "Because you didn't seem to think it was disgusting three days ago. In fact, you didn't seem to need any help at all when you were begging me to fuck you in my car."
Ume's face goes from flushed to a sickly white very quickly, she opens her mouth to retort but no sound comes out.
Heeseung on the other hand, just smirks while the question remains unrevealed, it's now a toxic secret sitting between them that has everyone else exchanging uneasy glances.
Someone should really call it now, call it a night but instead someone just murmurs that it's Ume's turn and now you're hyper aware she's about to ask Sunghoon—who's been a ticking time bomb since Calista brought up your lore—a question.
Ume, looking for any way to deflect the humiliation Heeseung just heaped on her, leans into Sunghoon. You can see the tremor in her hand as she tucks her hair back, her eyes narrowed with a vengeful glint.
She whispers the question to Sunghoon and for the first time tonight, you see a flicker of a smile cross his face. He doesn't hesitate his answer, "Heeseung," Sunghoon says and of course Heeseung wants to know, so he reaches for the bottle and takes an aggressive swig from it. "Reveal it," he commands, "What's the question?"
"The question," Sunghoon says, leaning forward so he's eye to eye with Heeseung, "was who here is definitely not as rich as they pretend to be?"
You nearly snort, that's not just a jab or a joke, it's a strike at the core of Heeseung's carefully curated image.
"Rich coming from you, Sunghoon," Heeseung sneers, his gaze flickering toward you before snapping back to his former friend. "At least I'm not the one who's so pathetic he took back a girl who already went through half the guys in this room. You're sitting there acting all protective of her, but we all know you're just the guy who cleans up the mess everyone else left behind."
The insult is so raw, it’s so unearned and cruel, so Heeseung. You hate how quick with it he is but you're quick too. Quick to connect the back of your hand with his face, the sound of your hand connecting with his cheek is like a gunshot in the small living room.
His head snaps sharply to the side and your hand starts to sting with the force of the blow as tears of pure rage blur your vision. Heeseung stays frozen for a long beat before his hand slowly comes up to touch his reddening face.
"Don't you ever," you choke out, your voice trembling with a fury you didn't know you possessed, "speak about me or Sunghoon like that again."
You don't even realize you've started heading for the door until you hear a pair of frantic footsteps following behind you. The stinging in your palm is nothing compared to the acid burning in your throat. You burst out into the cool night air, you're crying so hard you can barely see.
"Wait! Just—stop for a second!" Sunghoon's voice echoes behind you, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist to pull you into a quiet corner of the stairwell.
"Get away from me," you sob, trying to yank your arm back, the adrenaline from the slap finally crashing into a wave of pure humiliation. "He's trying to make me look like a whore, Hoon. In front of everyone. He's sitting there acting like I'm some...some conquest for the whole group."
Sunghoon doesn't let go, his face is red too and his eyes are filled with a mix of hurt and protective fury. "He's an asshole who's lashing out because he got called out for being broke. Don't listen to him."
"But he's making it sound like—" You choke on a breath, your voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Jay was one time. I was drunk, baby. You know that, I told you I didn't even know where I was. It wasn't half the guys, it was one mistake that almost killed me to tell you."
You look up at him with your tear stained face, you’re searching his eyes for any sign of the judgment Heeseung just spewed. "You believe me, right? Hoon, you know me. Or do you secretly think I'm just a whore, too?"
His face softens a little, right as he moves his hands to cup your face and wipe your tears, "I believe you," he says, finally letting your heart stop its frantic racing. "I know who you are. I didn't take you back because I'm pathetic. I took you back because I'd rather have a complicated life with you than a perfect one without you." "Let him talk. He has nothing and I have you."
The moment you and Sunghoon step back into the room, you realize the game didn’t even stop. You sit in Sunghoon’s lap instead of next to Heeseung again. Jay is whispering into Calista's ear now and whatever he says makes her eyes light up with glee that she literally cackles, a sound that grates against your raw nerves.
"Sunghoon. For sure," she says, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.
"I don't want to know. Move on." He says, tightening his hand on your hip.
"Are you sureeeee, Hoonie?" Calista taunts, leaning forward so her cleavage is on display. "It's a really juicy one. Don't you want to know what Jay thinks about your...habits?"
"He said move on, Calista," you say, your irritation showing on your face clear as day.
She rolls her eyes but since it’s her turn now, she leans over to Heeseung. You can’t help but think of how the two of them have always shared a certain level of toxicity and as she whispers to him, the damn near evil smile that spreads on his face makes you want to throw up, even though the read mark from your slap still so visible on his cheek like a badge of dishonor.
Heeseung looks around the circle, first at Leah then at you. "Leah and Y/n," he answers.
"Wait, what the fuck?" Jake interjects, his brow furrowing. "The rules are one person, Hee. Don't be a dick and break the flow."
Heeseung doesn't even look at Jake, he looks like he's out for blood now. "Oh fuck the rules. I'll just tell you the question," Heeseung announces. "So Calista here, asked me who here would I have a threesome with?"
Fucking disgusting.
"I picked Leah because word on campus is she gives the best head when she's blacked out drunk. So efficiency, right?"
He turns his gaze to you, he’s so hellbent on destroying the little peace Sunghoon just gave you.
"And I picked Y/n," he continues, ignoring the way Sunghoon is literally vibrating with rage beside you, "because Jay told me that he's never seen an ass bounce on cock quite like hers. I figured I should see what the hype is about."
The room explodes and Sunghoon is up from under you, pushing you off him before Heeseung can even finish his sentence, his fist flies towards Heeseung's jaw as Jake tries to scramble out of the way.
The living room erupts into a violent blur of motion and anger. Jay and Jake lunged forward, trying to haul Sunghoon off Heeseung but he is a whirlwind of unbridled rage and he’s too strong for both of them, his heels skidding on the hardwood as he punches Heeseung one two three times square in the face.
"Get off me!" Sunghoon roars, his voice cracking with the intensity of his fury.
"Hoon please! You’ll kill him!" Leah cries and in the midst of the chaos, Calista decides now is the perfect time to give her unsolicited opinion. Just as Jake and Jay finally manage to drag Sunghoon off the now bloodied Heeseung, she stands up and smooths her skirt with a sickeningly calm demeanor that irritates you so quickly. "I don't even know why you're getting so defensive, Sunghoon," she starts, "It's not like he lied. You did cheat on him with Jay. It's public knowledge at this point. Why act like she's some untouchable virgin when everyone already knows how passed around your girlfriend is?"
Take it to hell then.
"Public knowledge, huh?" you repeat, "Is that what we're calling it now, Calista?"
You take another step, deliberately trying to invade her personal space until she's forced to lean back against the sofa. "Since we're so happily sharing public knowledge," you continue, "is it public knowledge that you spent seven months last year practically begging Sunghoon to take your virginity? That you sent him dozens of nudes he never asked for, crying and pleading with him to be the one because you were so obsessed with his fucking reputation?"
She tries to interrupt you, maybe to get you to shut up but you don't give her the air. "And when he wouldn't even look at you—when he told you he wasn't interested in a girl who tried that hard—is it public knowledge that you finally settled for Heeseung just so you could feel like you were part of the group?"
It’s almost laughable how the whole room is suddenly silent. Heeseung, who was wiping blood from his lip, freezes before his eyes snapping to Calista with a look of pure realization.
Jay and Jake slowly loosen their grip on Sunghoon, their eyes wide as they look between you and the trembling girl in front of you. She really looks like she’s about to faint. "You...you don't know what you're talking about," she stammers.
"I have the screenshots, Calista," you announce. "Sunghoon showed me everything the day we got back together. So if I were you, I'd stop talking about public knowledge before I make sure everyone on this campus knows exactly how little dignity you actually have."
Despite the blood from his split lip, the black eye and bruises forming all over his face, Heeseung laughs, looking at Calista then at you with some kind of twisted admiration. "Damn," his voice scrapes against the silence. "That's harsh. Even for this room."
Leah, who has been sitting in a crumpled heap of tears and humiliation since Heeseung brought up her blackout reputation, finally snaps. The gratitude she felt when you defended her earlier has fermented into a courage. "Oh, fuck off, Heeseung," "You're really going to act like you're worth more than that? Settlement is the best word for you. Honestly, it's the best you can do seeing as you can't get anyone sober to actually touch you."
Jake and Jay look at each other, realizing the night has moved past a game and into a total social execution. You wince at Leah’s words cause you know Heeseung, he has no problems being dragged through the mud, as long as someone is being dragged with him and that’s exactly what he does.
"Ouch, Leah. You're hurting my feelings," he pouts, looking directly at Ume. "But you're wrong. I get plenty of sober pussy. Right, Ume?"
She shakes her head, almost like she’s begging him to stop but Heeseung is long past mercy.
"Ume fucks me. A lot, actually," he says with a voice so casual, you’d think he was discussing the news. "You'd be surprised how many pregnancy scares we've had just this semester. I think we're on what? Three now, Ume? Or did you forget to tell me about the one last week because you were too busy pretending we don't know each other in the halls?"
Ume lets out a choked sob, covering her mouth with her hands. The revelation is a nuclear bomb, Heeseung is burning every bridge in the room just to stay warm.
Sunghoon's grip on your waist tightens, you hadn’t even realized he was behind you. He looks down at you, his eyes silently communicating that this has gone too far. The game has completely turned into a search and destroy mission and of course Heeseung is leading the charge with a bloody lip and a terrifyingly calm smile. He ignores the sobbing Ume and the trembling Calista, turning his predatory focus toward the one person who has stayed unnervingly silent during the chaos. "Jongie," Heeseung coos, tilting his head. "You've been awfully quiet while everyone else's skeletons are falling out of the closet. Why is that? I know it's not because you're worried about our girl over there—we already established you've been there, done that."
"Shut the fuck up, Heeseung," Jake snaps, "You're clearly just high on the drama. Stop it."
But Calista, sensing a chance to shift the target off her own humiliation, lets out a hysterical laugh. She wipes the tears from her eyes that are already shining with a manic triumph.
"Oh, wait! I know this one!" she chirps, her voice trembling but eager. "It’ll all make sense now but Jay here didn't sleep with Y/n because he wanted her. He used her as a litmus test."
Sunghoon's grip on your waist becomes painfully tight as the room goes dead silent.
"He was trying to figure out if he was actually gay or not," Calista sneers, pointing a manicured finger between Jay and Jake. "Because Jay and Jake haven't just been best friends since freshman year. They've been fucking since the first week of classes. Jay just needed to see if a girl could still do it for him, and you were the easiest target because you were drunk and vulnerable."
This can’t be happening. Why? Why did you agree to even come to Jay’s house tonight?
The two boys don’t even move, it’s like they can’t. Sunghoon’s hands fall from your waist as he looks at Jay—the man he thought was his best friend, the man who had supposedly betrayed him out of a moment of drunken weakness, not a cold blooded experiment.
"Is that true?" Sunghoon asks, his voice dangerously low. "You used my girlfriend to see if you could still get your dick hard for a woman?" But Jay can’t answer, he can’t even look Sunghoon in the eye.
Before you realize you’ve moved, you’re right in Calista’s face again, moving without thinking. Without a word, you bring your hand up and deliberately swipe your index finger right under her nostril. When you pull your hand back, you look at the faint white residue on your finger before looking back at her with pity.
"Aw, Cali,"
"I knew you did coke but I didn't know it was this bad. Is that why your heart is racing so fast? Or is it just the sniffles?"
You want to dismantle her credibility, her sanity. How dare she? You don’t even care about what Jay allegedly did. How dare she attempt to out two people who clearly weren’t ready for that.
"Are you just making up shit now because you're scared?" you ask, tilting your head. "You’re scared that everyone will finally find out you're nothing but a coke whore who trades blowjobs for a gram?"
A strangled sound escapes her throat, she looks around the room, searching for an ally but everyone—even Heeseung—is looking at her with a new level of disgust.
"News fucking flash, Calista," "Everyone knows. We've always known. We just didn't care enough about you to say it out loud until you decided to make yourself everyone's damn problem."
You turn your back on her, grab Leah’s hand and heading for the door, you’re sure Sunghoon is right behind you. "We're done," you say. "We don’t need these toxic people."
──.୨ৎ
The laundry room basement of Jay’s house is a stark contrast to the polished, expensive chaos neither Sunghoon nor Leah are expecting to unfold in about an hour. Down here, the smell of the laundry detergent is strong, paired with the rhythmic thrum of the m washing machine, it’s enough to make anyone overstimulated in this situation.
Sunghoon has Leah propped up against the vibrating metal of the washer, her legs wrapped around his waist, as he drives his cock harder and harder into her.
The machine’s cycle is loud but it’s still not loud enough to drown out the wet sounds of their bodies meeting or Leah’s loud moans.
"Hoon...Sunghoon," Leah whimpers, her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders as he thrusts into her with a mechanical intensity.
"Quiet," he shushes, pressing his palm over her mouth for a second, his eyes dark and devoid of the softness he usually keeps reserved for you. "The others are going to be here any minute. You want them to hear you?"
Leah shakes her head no, her eyes glassy with a mix of pleasure and a desperate need for him to look at her with something other than detachment, for him to look at her the way he looks at you. She pulls his head down, pressing her lips against his before whimpering when he brushes her sweet spot.
"Oh fuck! I love you!" she moans, the words suddenly slipping out like a confession she can’t hold back. "I love you so much, Sunghoon."
Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate, kissing her to shut her up, his tongue invading her mouth with a possessive hunger that felt more like a conquest than an embrace. "I love you too," he mutters against her skin, the words sound practiced, they’re even mean in their delivery—a hollow comfort he’s offering only to keep her compliant.
He shifts his grip, hooking his large hands under her thighs to pull her closer, "Are you close?" he demands, his breath hot and erratic against her neck. "Fuck—Your pussy’s so good, babe. You’re gonna make me cum right now."
Leah lets out a frustrated breath, lolling her head back against the cold laundry shelf. "No...no, I'm not. It’s okay, baby." She wraps her legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in as deep as he could go. "You can cum, Hoonie. Just...cum inside me. Please."
Sunghoon lets out a grunt of appreciation, she doesn’t need to tell him twice before he buries his face in the crook of her neck, his thrusts become faster and more desperate until he finally stiffens, his entire body shudders as he fills her. "Mm yes, Sunghoon. Gimme your cum."
He stays there inside her for a long moment, before pulling back to start fixing his clothes with a terrifyingly quick efficiency.
"Clean yourself up," he says, not looking at her as he heads for the stairs. "We need to be upstairs before the rest of them get here."
nene’s note ── is it just me or is heeseung HILARIOUS in this? lmao (cause i’m not on the receiving end) also poor ume (right?👀) did you expect the twist? i loveeee feedback! please enjoy!💋
s, smut | f, fluff | a, angst | suggestive is noted
my laptop is fried from all the tabs lol, but these are my fav psh fics, or at least the ones i have liked/remember ! its LONG lol
> word count lowers as you go down the list! (not in order)
grocery store receipts [ hot neighbor!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,f,a
to the boy: who took me to prom [ best friend's brother!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,f,a
harvest of purity [ innocent!sunghoon, strangers to lovers ] s,f,a
stupid in love [ bestfriend!sunghoon, summer au ] s,f,a
we'll always have this summer [ summer au, strangers to lovers, city girl x country boy au ] s,f,a
gods & monsters [ step-brother sunghoon x fem!reader x stepbrother!heeseung ] s,f,a
park sunghoon: the boy next door trope [ shy figure skater!sunghoon x popular extrovert!reader ] s,f,a
king of tears [ chaebol husband!sunghoon, second chance romance au ] s,f,a
crossroads romance [ ex!sunghoon, suprise return au ] s,a
unlucky girl syndrome / part two [ grumpy x sunshine au, love triangle au ft. jake ]
sex for dummies! [ academic rivals au, university au ] s,f,a
tangled desires [ enemies to lovers, rich kids au ] s,a
the dollmaker [ husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic/supernatural elements au ] s,f,a
love next door [ childhood bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,a
teacher's pet [ professor!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,f,a
you're such a brat [ arrogant!sunghoon x bratty!reader, enemies to lovers ] s
cherry pits [ dad!sunghoon x fem!reader, dilf au, neighbors au ] s,f
three weeks & three days [ best friend's ex!sunghoon, halloween au ] s,f,a
lucifer [ fallen angel!sunghoon x virgin angel fem!reader ] s
first date etiquette [ neighbor au, first date au ] s
dior girl [ designer!sunghoon x fem!reader, dark!sunghoon ] s
night-shift / day shift (pt.2) [ boss & camboy!sunghoon ] s
give up heaven [ ex-bestfriend & hockey player!sunghoon, friends to lovers ] suggestive,a
get you better [ boyfriend's best friend!sunghoon, cheating au ] s
urs [ situationship!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,f
say my name [ neighbor!sunghoon, enemies to lovers ] s
star-crossed / part two [ prince!sunghoon x servant fem!reader, greek mythology ] s,f
cherry [ outcast!sunghoon x class president fem!reader, enemies to lovers, 90's au ] f
bittersweet teeth [ brother's best friend!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s
past wounds, present hearts [ ex bully!sunghoon x fem!reader ] s,f,a
heavenly [ playboy & ex bf!sunghoon x fem!reader, fake dating au ] f,a
forbidden attraction [ wizard!sunghoon x witch!reader, hogwarts au ] s
s, smut | f, fluff | a, angst | suggestive is noted
since my fic recs are super popular on my nct blog, I decided to start on this blog! fics with less words and less plot/more smut are near the bottom of the list.
i don't want to be your roommate, i want to kiss your neck [ bestfriend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f,a
let's collab [ camboy!heeseung x camgirl!reader] s
lee heeseung - the brother's best friend trope, part two [ brother's bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f,a
only if you say yes [ enemies to fwb au ] s,f,a
traces of you. [ loser!heeseung x tutor!reader ] s,f,a
cherry [ pervert!heeseung x virgin!reader ] s,f,a
you plus me [ ex-friend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f,a
tides of regret [ ex bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f,a
coffee & cream [ virgin!heeseung x virgin fem!reader ] s,f,a
falling alone [ lieutenant!heeseung x therapist housewife!reader, strained marriage au ] s,f,a
player rank: platinum [ simp gamer!heeseung x fem!reader, sister's bf au ] s,a
only if you say yes (please say yes) [ enemies to lovers au ] s,f,a
two's a company [ incompatible friend!heeseung x fem!reader, forced proximity au] s
i offer you my everything [ basketball captain!heeseung x virgin!reader ] s,f
m.o.r.e. - my only ruined escape [husband's friend!heeseung x fem!reader, toxic marriage au ] s,f,a
not if it's you, part two [ nerd!heeseung x fem!reader, strangers to lovers ] s,f,a
racing, beating [ illegal-racer!heeseung x model!reader, arranged marriaged au ] s
one hundred and one [ little brother's bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,a
how to get back at your ex [ ex!heeseung x fem!reader, coworkers au ] s,f,a
what you need [ boyfriend's friend!heeseung x fem!reader, roommates au ] s,a
you make me [ stranger!heeseung x insomniac!reader ] suggestive
wrong doings [ stepdad!heeseung x stepdaughter!reader ] s,a
cross the line [ childhood best friends to lovers ] s,f
prince charming's mismatch [ prince!heeseung x princess!reader ] suggestive
pool party [ brother's bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader, pool party au ] s,f,a
saint matthew's academy [toxic rich!heeseung x innocent!reader, private school au ] s,f,a
playground crush [ neighbor!heeseung x fem!reader, strangers to lovers ] s
as long as you'll let me [ virgin!heeseung x badgirl!reader ] s
i hate you [ bestfriend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f
the space between [ rich basketball player!reader x flowershop owner!reader ] s,f,a
give it time [ inexperienced!heeseung x jake's sister!reader ] s
conflict of interest [ pool cleaner!heeseung x rich fem!reader ] s
heavenly [ established relationship, stuck inside due to storm au ] s
“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” [ gamer!heeseung x fem!reader, no nut november au ] s
two moons [ plug!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
want [ boyfriend!heeseung x fem!reader, first time au ] s
tethered [ emo!heeseung x fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers au ] s,a
mine or yours? [ stepbrother!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
helping hand [ bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
let me show you [ experienced friend!heeseung x inexperienced fem!reader ] s,f
the girl from the bar [ bartender!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,f
easy access [ ex!heeseung x fem!reader ] s,a
a sucker for the taste [ experienced husband!heeseung x virgin!reader ] s,f
apple cider [ roommate!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
something new [ established relationship au ] s
taste [ munch!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
90 days of pleasure [ enemies to lovers ] s,f,a
teddy bear pajamas [ heeseung x jay's sister!reader ] s
surprise [ established relationship au ] s
plushies and headsets [ bestfriend!heeseung x petite!reader ] s
addicted [roommate!heeseung x tutor!reader ] s
wet [ water gun fight au ] s
road trip [ friend!heeseung x fem!reader, smut in car w friends ] s
diet pepsi [ bestfriend's brother!heeseung x virgin!reader ] s
the love game [ gamer!heeseung x fem!reader, established relationship ] s,f
wet dreams [ roommate!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
attention [ gamer boyfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
tasty [ bestfriend!heeseung x fem!reader ] s
breaking free [ stoner!heeseung x fem!reader ] suggestive,f,a
forced roommates or forced to be lovers? [ popular pervy!gamer heeseung x popular cheerleader!reader ] s,f
homecoming [ idol!heeseung x fem!reader, established relationship ] s
gracieabrams
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
amandla
