play me the classics... something romantic

Oriah 19 :) ~this here is just for fics I'd like to remember/keep up with~

[ivysorrele]

LADS P☆RN LINKS

CONTAINS: piv, f receiving, masturbation, bondage, squirting, pussy slapping, breeding kink, creampie, & slight exhibitionism. Some links may require you to be signed in on X.

SYLUS

۶ৎ music to his ears

۶ৎ his definition of filled

۶ৎ in the bathroom after the auction

۶ৎ drilling into your pussy

۶ৎ sylus and his breeding kink

ZAYNE

۶ৎ pussy prep

۶ৎ pussy slapping

۶ৎ bondage + fingering till you squirt

۶ৎ quickie in his office before his shift :p

CALEB

۶ৎ eating you out while jorking

۶ৎ on the counter

۶ৎ oh he loves that pussy

۶ৎ he can nut so easily just from the view

۶ৎ can't stop touching you during backshots

RAFAYEL

۶ৎ riding him

۶ৎ his fav way of starting the morning

۶ৎ always so eager to eat pussy

۶ৎ creampies are his favorite

XAVIER

۶ৎ quick fuck before napping

۶ৎ he got jealous after he saw you talking to that bakery guy again

۶ৎ he couldn't sleep

۶ৎ side sex

[ssukunasslut]

🫦

[prettyngeto]

CHAPTER ONE || signed, sealed, delivered (i'm yours) 18+

sukuna x f! reader

summary: one night (and one wine bottle in), you decide to sign up for an anonymous pen pal programme at uni. sukuna was given two options - a therapist or a pen pal. you can guess which one he chose. only problem? you hated each other's guts in real life.

content: idk how to tag help me y'all. uni au, anonymous pen pals, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn ish, nonchalant bad boy! sukuna (he's secretly a softie), reader is fed up, forensic sciences student! sukuna x chemistry student! reader, they don't hate each other - they're basically an old married couple, mutual pining masked as academic warfare, sukuna is a little shit, choso and yuuji are sukuna's younger brothers, reader has a cute obsession with sea animals - specifically sharks (yes this is important to the story), eventual smut 🌚

word count: 9k

a/n: letters from sukuna will be in bold and italics, letters from reader will be in italics only. also: don't mind me... just casually dropping this at 1am... anyways guys omg i'm so so sorry this took me so long to get out 😭 i hope you all like it frfr, i really wanted to focus on establishing the different character dynamics in this chapter but i hope you enjoy anyways!!

main masterlist || jjk masterlist || series masterlist

prologue ⌯⌲ chapter one ⌯⌲ chapter two (tba)

The envelope was…annoyingly cute. 

As much as he’d hate to admit it, the glittery shark sticker in lieu of a wax seal had his lip twitching up in amusement. A beat passes as he continues to stare down at the envelope like it had personally wronged him - which, in a way, it had. And it was none other than Takahashi - sorry, Doctor Takahashi’s fault. She would probably send him another one of those disapproving side-eyes if she knew he wasn’t addressing her properly but she wasn’t here; and she had just single handedly made his life a living hell by making him resort to ancient means of communication like some Victorian orphan (except he wasn’t illiterate). So, excuse him for not wanting to be respectful right now. 

Eyes scrunching in irritation, he pinches the bridge of his nose, black painted fingernails drumming rhythmically on his desk. With a sharp exhale, he steels himself like he was about to open Pandora’s box and reaches for the damn letter, lips curled up in scorn. For some reason, unbeknownst to even him, he carefully peels the sticker off and sticks it to the corner of the noticeboard on top of his desk, next to a baby blue sticky note that reads:

"smile more, stab less. love, S+S xx”.

Satoru and Suguru,of course. Who else would have this much audacity?

Now, it may seem that Sukuna was only surrounded by idiots. Scratch that, he was most definitely only surrounded by idiots.  And unfortunately for him, that number was about to multiply. 

He unfolds the letter, slouched back in his ridiculously expensive gaming chair - an impulsive buy after he began to feel his spine deteriorating from the old one. The paper rustles, almost like a mockery because why the hell is it pink? Granted, it’s possibly the palest shade of pink he’s ever seen, but it was pink nonetheless, and it made him feel like he was about to read a love confession from some dumb high schooler. 

With the energy of someone about to push a boulder up a mountain, he began to read:

Dear Anon, As I’m writing this, I’m starting to come to the realisation that maybe this pen pal programme thing isn’t for me after all. My hand’s already cramping. Who even writes letters anymore? I can’t even send emojis bro, what am I supposed to do? Draw them? Please don’t expect hand drawn emojis by the way, I’m a horrible artist.  I don’t really know what I’m supposed to write honestly. I guess I'll tell you about myself? I’m a simple creature really, I only need a few things to function - books, sweet treats and as little human interaction as possible. Oh and I fucking hate pigeons. They’re literally flying rats. So if you like those disgusting creatures, I’m afraid this exchange is going to have to be cut short. I DO love sharks though, they’re so cute omg. I also shamelessly cried over a fictional man’s death in Chapter 39 and I haven’t recovered since! Bonus points if you can guess the book. That’s basically it… (it’s not, but I can never think of anything whenever I have to tell someone about myself).  ANYWAYS. Your turn now. Mostly because I feel like my hand is about to fall off. Please don’t be an axe murderer, mwah.  Sincerely,  Someone who is severely regretting her drunk 2AM decisions xx P.S. You better not have illegible handwriting because you will be heavily judged. By me. Multiple times. Shamelessly. 

He reaches the end of the letter and well…. one thing was for sure, it was nothing like those lovesick declarations he used to get back in high school. His head lifts, expression blank as he stares at the wall.

He blinks. 

What the fuck did he just read? 

Whoever this girl was, she sounded like a right lunatic. Chaos personified, if you will. And yet another idiot to add to his seemingly ever growing list. A pigeon hater? A shark lover? Maybe she was the one who needed therapy instead of him… 

And yet.  And yet. 

He finds himself reaching across his desk for a pen, ripping out a page from his notebook to respond to this deranged woman.

Begrudgingly, of course.  Because he’s not enjoying this.  At all. 

He's suddenly glad he's not back home with his brothers. Hell knows what they would be saying if they could see him right now. Writing letters as a coping mechanism. He would never hear the end of it. Sukuna scowls at the thought, shaking his head as he folds up his letter, shoving it into one of the MANY envelopes Takahashi had graciously dropped in front of him this morning. He’d put it into the mailbox tomorrow morning. Right now though? His bed was practically screaming his name. And paired with the fact that he had his weekly cursed three hour lab at nine in the fucking morning with that brat and her colour coded notes - yeah, he would need all the sleep he could get. 

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 THE NEXT MORNING 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

First day of third year. ‘You Spin Me Right Round’ (the Alvin and the Chipmunks version of course) blares from your phone, eliciting an immediate groan from you, as you turn over onto your stomach to yank the pillow over your head in hopes to muffle the ungodly sound of your alarm. But to no avail. You make a mental note to murder Satoru when you see him next because this was definitely his doing. 

There’s a pounding in your head. Wait, wasn’t that a Katy Perry song? You force your eyes open, wincing with every movement as you begrudgingly throw your covers off. A shiver immediately runs through you, your brows furrowing in confusion. Why was it so cold this morning? Your question was quickly answered once you look down to see yourself in only a tank top and panties. Fucking great, just what you needed. Guess the Chardonnay really did a number on you last night huh… 

Shit. 

Last night. Your eyes widen, lips parting as you bolt upright, the memories of last night beginning to flood in, the consequences of your own actions suddenly making themselves known. 

An entire bottle of Chardonnay. You - in bed, bored (and drunk. Let’s not forget drunk) out of your mind - and unrestricted access to your own electronic devices. Something was bound to go wrong. And by god, did it go wrong. An anonymous pen pal programme? Really, girl? Another groan from the depths of your soul escapes you as you flop face-down back onto your bed, slamming your forehead onto your pillow like that was going to magically undo the sheer embarrassment you were currently facing. Not only did you immediately go and sit down at your desk to write the damn letter on pink paper, you even sent it. Adorned it with one of your precious shark stickers and waddled straight over to the dorm’s mailbox like a little ray of sunshine. Seriously, what were you thinking? Although at this point, you begin to wonder whether you had been thinking at all.  

Whatever. You would just have to hope and pray to every god out there that you miswrote the address in your inebriated state, making it invalid and therefore ensuring that the letter never even made it to your so-called pen pal. Maybe if you think it hard enough, it will turn out to be true. Manifestation at its finest. (Or insanity, whatever you wish to call it.) 

Unfortunately, you were swiftly snapped out of your delusions when that wretched alarm rang again - this time with the words, ‘WAKE UP - DON’T BE LATE FOR LAB (AGAIN)!!’ flashing on your screen. 

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck. (Language dear reader) 

Every Tuesday at 9AM, you have a joint lab for three goddamn hours with the forensic science course for your shared module - Analytical Techniques in Chemistry. Why? Who knows, but it sufficed to say that Tuesdays quickly became your least favourite day of the week over the course of the past 2 years seeing as it was clear that the universe was out to get you. 

And every Tuesday, without fail, you end up walking in late. 

Dr Aki swears on his cat’s life that he won’t open the door for you the next time you’re late but everyone and their mothers knew that was a lie. Firstly, his cat died four years ago. Secondly, he has a soft spot for you. As he should really - you’re his best student. 

Well. One of his best students.  The other one? Ryomen Sukuna.  Bane of your existence. Living, breathing spawn of Satan himself. 

Ever since you had the displeasure of being his lab partner in your first year, you’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that this man had crawled straight out the fiery pits of hell just to spite you.  Now, I’m sure you’re wondering how this animosity between Dr. Aki’s best students started. Well… 

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 2 YEARS AGO 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

ROOM 2806 - DR. A. SAITO

Fucking finally. 

You throw open the lab doors at exactly 8:59 AM, with minimal grace, face flushed and panting like you had just completed a triathlon. You might as well have, to be honest, because WHY were there two science blocks? And WHY did your campus map lie to you and lead you to the one that had no laboratories? Okay fine, maybe you just couldn’t read a map properly but that wasn’t even your fault. They should have made it more inclusive to those who clearly lacked map comprehension skills.

In any case, three hour labs at 9AM should be illegal. A joint three hour lab session on your first day, however? Diabolical. Really, you ought to write a strongly worded email to whoever made your timetable. But you had more pressing matters to attend to right now, namely the unimpressed stare currently being levelled at you by an exasperated Dr Aki Saito. And the boy who had just casually strolled through the door - a mere twenty seconds before the clock struck nine. 

“Cutting it a bit close, you two.” Dr Aki says sternly, sliding his goggles up and effectively pushing back his salt and pepper hair. Wait, why’s he lowkey kinda… Wait what? Focus y/n. Focus. “But it’s your first day,” he continues, the corner of his lip twitching in amusement as he notices the dumbfounded look on your face. “So, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you off. Just this once.” 

You nod wordlessly like the good little student you’re now suddenly determined to be. For fuck’s sake, get it together, he’s quite possibly old enough to be your dad. You hear a quiet snort from your left, disguised as a supposed cough, and you immediately whip your head around to the pink-haired perpetrator, shooting him a withering glare so sharp it could rival Superman’s heat vision. This is usually the part where the man looks away sheepishly. But not him. He meets your stare with a smirk, poorly hidden behind the fist he has raised to cover his mouth, his scarlet eyes twinkling with what could only be described as pure unadulterated glee. And then to top it all off, he sticks his tongue out at you. Like a toddler. If a toddler was six foot something, covered in piercings and tattooed to hell and back. 

Dr Aki clears his throat, eyes darting back and forth between the latecomers, finding great entertainment from the blatant disdain radiating off the both of you. He claps his hands together, with the air of someone about to announce the winner of the FIFA World Cup, speaking up in a tone that was way too cheerful for your liking, considering his next words were: 

“And since everyone’s paired off already, it looks like you’re both stuck together.” He gestures to the only empty bench on the far side of the lab, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Try not to kill each other,” he calls over his shoulder. For a man surrounded by thirty or so tired teenagers and flammable chemicals, the delight radiating off him was far too excessive.

Sukuna decides then and there that he’s going to enjoy messing with you. 

You decide then and there that you’d rather ingest sulfuric acid. Or even better, shove said sulfuric acid down his throat. 

You trail behind him to your default assigned bench, notebook and pencil case clutched tight to your chest with a frown on your face. A frown which Sukuna, ever the expert, mistook for confusion once he looked back over his shoulder at you. 

“Try not to look so lost for the rest of the year, shortcake. Some of us are actually trying to pass.” It takes everything in you not to stab him in the eye with a stirring rod. 

The absolute audacity of this man. 

And yeah, maybe — MAYBE — when he first strolled into the lab, you may or may not have thought he was kinda… y’know… attractive or whatever. What with his sharp jawline, spiky gelled hair (Rodrick Heffley style), that looked too good for 9AM. Not to mention the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his lab coat and that damn silver lip ring that his tongue kept swiping over. 

But you made sure to retract that statement the second he opened his goddamn mouth. It was safe to say, this was probably the shortest lived crush of your life - one that lasted the entirety of five minutes. If that. 

You huff, cheeks puffed out in irritation as you snatched the pipette from his side of the table to measure out the sodium hydroxide whilst he just watches in amusement because of fucking course, the first lab of the year with your angelic partner was titrations. No biggie! Only the most tedious, and concentration demanding experiment ever. 

“Can you even read off the pipette?” The snark in his voice is evident. So much so that, at this point, you’re certain there’s smoke coming out of your ears.

“Can you even spell pipette?” You all but spit out. Somehow, this only increases his amusement. God, was this guy even human? It was almost as if he was relishing in your suffering. This was so not normal. Was he a sadist or what?

By the time it was time to actually start the experiment, you were about two seconds away from swinging the burette at his head. Why? Because this man seemed to think that you were fresh out of kindergarten; sending you a smug smirk whenever he managed a perfect titration, while you grumbled and filled out the results table. When it was your turn to perform the next titration, he was looming over your shoulder, making snide little remarks into your ear like the whispering devil he is. 

“Can you fucking let me do it?” You finally snap, after he lets out a low questioning hum when you call out the measurement on the burette. “I’m not incompetent like you.”

“Never said you were incompetent sweetheart,” he replies smoothly, not even bothering to look up as he scribbles the numbers into the results table, which, as much as you hate to admit, is looking damn near textbook perfect. “Just don’t trust someone who didn’t know what time her lab started.” 

Your eye twitches. 

And oh, how you wish you could severely maim him right now. Mostly because you hate the way your heart fluttered when he called you ‘sweetheart’.

“YOU WERE LATE TOO —”

“Yeah but I’m taller. So like, it kinda cancels out.” He shrugged, pencil between his teeth and he fucking winked. 

“That’s not how it works, you absolute twat.” You deadpan, inhaling deeply to  prevent yourself from committing first degree murder.

And yet, somehow, despite all the snarky comments - you fall into a weird rhythm, your movements syncing up and by the end of the lab, you achieved what could only be described as immaculate results. Not one mistake in sight. In fact, the results were so good, Dr Aki used them as an example to your class. And every class after that. 

Which was not something you were willing to accept. Because that would mean accepting that Sukuna is smart, like weirdly smart.

His calculations were always correct (which you still don’t understand considering he rarely ever uses a calculator), liquids always measured, solids always weighed to the exact figure. Never more, never less. Sharp and meticulous. You had to give it to him (begrudgingly) - he was the hardworking type and clearly cared about his future if he’s putting in this much effort, despite appearances.

You groan inwardly as you come to the horrifying realisation that if it wasn’t for the arrogance and the condescending attitude, Ryomen Sukuna - the prick - might have been your type. 

You shiver a little at the thought. Ew. 

Whatever, you didn’t want, or need, someone who took one look at you and thought you were incapable of reading off a pipette anyway. 

For the next two years, without fail, you and Sukuna were always the last two students to walk into the first lab of the semester, unknowingly falling straight into Dr Aki’s little trap. He always made everyone choose their partners before the two of you arrived just so you would be forced to be paired up and he could therefore watch you bicker. I mean, hey, free entertainment am I right? But when asked, he claims it’s because he just loves to see his two most promising students work together.

(The rest of the class would argue that he’s in fact, just a man who lives for drama.) (They’d be right.)

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 PRESENT 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Your legs are on the verge of giving out beneath you, bile rising up in your throat and you’re starting to think your intestines are about to be ejected from your mouth. Maybe you should have taken Shoko up on that gym offer. You round the corner, spotting the god forsaken stairs that lead up to Dr Aki’s lab, and you momentarily contemplate just lying down on the floor to await impending doom. Or maybe you can pretend to pass out dramatically so you end up in A&E which would technically get you out of lab. 

Alas, you’re a responsible student. Well, as responsible as one can get when they’re currently legging it to a class that is due to start in roughly 2 minutes. So you grab onto the banister for dear life as you take the stairs two at a time. The relief you feel when you reach the top rapidly earns itself a spot onto your ‘Things that make me want to praise God’ list. 

But that light is quickly extinguished as you make your way down the unnecessarily long hallway and spot him. 

Leaning against the wall across from Room 2806 with one knee bent, foot flat against the wall like he was posing for the cover of Vogue: STEM edition, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling lazily through his phone. You hate it. You hate him. Granted, over the course of the last two years, your hatred towards him had dwindled down slightly. More so out of resignation rather than forgiveness. He was no longer the bane of your existence (okay fine maybe just a little bit.) He was now more like a… constant nuisance that you had learnt how to deal with. Kinda like that weird smell in labs that never seems to go away. But, just how does one look so put together at nine in the fucking morning? Your resentment intensifies just that little bit more when you realise you probably look like you’ve just been dragged through a bush and back compared to him. His lab coat is already on, goggles propped up on his head, pushing his spiky hair upwards to reveal his forehead and… 

What was that? 

You squint as you catch a new flash of silver on his eyebrow. A new piercing? Ugh, whatever, not like you care anyway. Even if it looks illegally attractive on him.

“What the fuck?” You wheeze out, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Why are you standing out here like a guard dog?” 

A shrug. That’s all you get out - a shrug. He doesn’t even bother looking up from his screen. 

“Dunno. Just got here.” He murmurs, the composure in his voice in contrast to your own breathless one makes you want to rip your hair out. You scowl at him, scanning his face for the smallest hint of a lie. But you’re already much too annoyed to argue with him before either of you have even entered the lab. So you just mutter a half-hearted “whatever” under your breath, rolling your eyes as you shove the door open. 

He pockets his phone with a slight smirk, silently following after you (like said guard dog). But you hear it. A quiet little huff of laughter. 

One which makes you stomp extra hard all the way to your bench. 

Aki doesn’t even have to look up to know who just entered, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards as he places a small tick next to both of your names on his clipboard to mark your attendance. 

“Ah, I was wondering when my favourite pair would show up,” he mutters dryly. “I’m beginning to think you two are deliberately trying to make a grand entrance every week.” 

“Tell him to stop standing outside like a freak then.” You huff pointing accusingly at Sukuna before buttoning up your lab coat. 

“I have no idea what she’s talking about, I told her I just got there.” Sukuna murmurs slipping his goggles down over his eyes. 

“Oh yes I’m sure. It’s not like you stand out there every week waiting f-” A piercing stare from Sukuna has Dr. Aki effectively shutting up, miming the action of zipping his lips before putting his hands up in surrender. You, of course, were too busy reading over the experiment brief on your bench to pay attention to the conversation happening right next to you. You’re about to reach out for Sukuna’s elbow, ready to pull him towards the equipment so you could get started and get this over with as soon as possible, when you notice the deadly glare your lab partner was throwing towards your favourite professor.

“Cut it out Sukuna.” You scowl, elbowing him harshly in the ribs, before dragging him backwards by the sleeve of his lab coat. Well, dragging would be a generous term considering he’s letting himself be dragged by you, teeth coming down to chew on his lip ring.

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs, low and amused. He pretends he doesn’t see your steps falter. You pretend the heat crawling up the back of your neck is from the many bunsen burners being lit up around the room. 

One hour in and you’re halfway through heating some sort of chemical solution, honestly you weren’t even sure what you were meant to be observing but it was starting to turn into this really cute pink colour. A shade of pink that looked a bit too familiar. You squint at the conical flask. Then at Sukuna. Then back again.

When you finally make the connection, a shit eating grin creeps its way onto your face, jabbing your elbow into Sukuna’s side. A gesture you do so often, he’s starting to think there might be a permanent bruise developing there. 

“Oi, look it’s the same colour as your hair.” You manage to get out in between giggles that you just couldn’t seem to hold back, especially once you spot the unimpressed look on his face. He tilts his head down to look at you in exasperation, lips set in a thin line as he exhales sharply through his nose. “We have a comedian in our midst, it seems,” he deadpans. 

Your grin widens, “You’re just mad cos you’re twinning with-” you pause to read off the label, “-unknown Solution B.” His mouth opens, about to retaliate but unfortunately, you’re far from done. 

“Oh! And speaking of hair,” you rise onto your tiptoes to squint at his head. Without thinking, he leans down, bending his head closer to you, to prevent you from straining your neck. He would soon wish he hadn’t been so generous. 

“You might wanna check on yours. Your black’s starting to peek through.” You finish off with a solemn nod. 

His head whips back up and you could swear you see his eye twitch. 

“Fuck you on about, brat?” He grumbles, denial clear in his voice. 

“Your roots are showing.” You shrug, channelling your inner Sukuna. ‘Ha. Who’s lost their composure now, huh?’  Your thoughts are smug as you watch him try to disguise his inner panic. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna is already planning a murder, a funeral and a wake in his head. Because you know who offered (pleaded, more like) to dye his hair this time round? 

Yuuji. His little pest of a brother. 

And you know how long it’s been since then? Three days. Three. How one fucks up a dye job so bad to the point where it’s fading three fucking days in, Sukuna will never know. All those Human Earthworm movies were clearly eating away at Yuuji’s brain. You, on the other hand, have turned back to the flask, eyes narrowed as you lean in, trying to figure out if the pink has changed shades. It was definitely darker than the last time you checked it. You think. You lean in a little further to get a closer look…

And then you cough.  Once. Twice.

Sukuna follows, a sharp hacking cough sounding beside you. He squints at the fume cupboard with disgust before he mutters under his breath. “Did you turn the extractor on?” 

You scoff, waving a hand in front of your face as a particularly pungent smell hits you. “Of course I turned it on. See, it’s -” You point your finger to the switch. Your eyes widen when you realise, it is in fact, not turned on. You slam your hand over it, and a low humming sound finally fills the fume hood.

“Oops.” You murmur, looking up at Sukuna with a sheepish smile on your face. 

“Oops? That’s all you have to say after nearly choking us to death on acid fumes?” He scoffs, coughing into his elbow.

“Okay well, we’re alive aren’t we?” You huff, arms crossing over your chest defensively. 

Across the lab, Aki makes no move to check up on you two. “Just a reminder,” he raises his voice, loud enough to address the whole class, “that you’re supposed to check the fume hood BEFORE you start heating your solutions, guys.” And with a not so subtle glance towards you and Sukuna, it was safe to say, everybody knew who he was directing this to. The next two hours, manage to pass without any further mishaps and of course, you’re the pair with the best results (despite the fact that you nearly induced lung failure to you and your partner). 

Aki claps his hands once, loud and dramatic. “Alright everyone, lab’s over. Clean up your benches and get outta here. And for the love of all things science, your acidic solutions do not go down the sink. Use the liquid waste bin. Please. It’s there for a reason.” He announces with a sigh, resignation evident in his tone. 

Needless to say, by the time he’s finished speaking you’re already halfway to the door, Sukuna following languidly behind you. Aki catches you both before you leave and shoots you a grin, “Same time next week, my little stars.” (Sukuna’s lips turn up in disgust at the nickname, muttering a quiet “ew” under his breath.) “I’d say don’t be late but we all know how that’s going to end. Now shoo.” 

Waving goodbye to Aki, you push the doors open with your shoulder, sighing loudly and you're convinced that if you squinted hard enough, you would be able to see your soul leaving your body. To make matters worse, someone seems rather insistent on walking behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. 

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following you, I just happen to be walking in the same direction as you.” Sukuna replies, voice as uninterested as ever. You let out a scoff in disbelief, practically marching down the stairs. 

As you step out of the building, nearly being blinded by the sun in the process, you spot your saviour, leaning against a pillar, cigarette dangling from her lips. You don’t think you’ve ever been happier to see this woman in your life.

“Took you fucking long enough, I was beginning to think you died in there.” Shoko says, stubbing out her cigarette with the toe of her foot. 

“We almost did, thanks to someone.” Sukuna mumbles under his breath. 

You snap your head around to scowl at him, “No one asked you to speak.” 

Shoko merely raises an eyebrow, voice dry as she speaks. “So… you two still doing that whole ‘I can’t stand you’ act? Cute.” 

You have half a mind to swing your bag at her, but you opt for linking her arm with yours instead, ready to march off to lunch. Just as you’re about to drag her away from Broody McBroodster, you hear this agitating, grating voice. 

“OI RYOOO!!”  Gojo Satoru. Lord have mercy on your soul. 

You exchange a look of dread with Shoko, a silent agreement that you both need to get out of here. Effective immediately. 

Alas, you had been spotted.

“Isn’t that Sho and Y/N?” A second, much calmer, voice - Suguru.

“Huh? Oh my god, it is! My favourite girls!” Was this man ever capable of speaking at a normal level? 

Shoko decides to leg it anyways, dragging you by the wrist and leaving a confused Sukuna in your wake.

“Hey, Suguru, why are they running? SHOKO, Y/NNN HIII.” Andddd, now he’s waving both hands at you like a lunatic, just what you needed. 

You throw your head back with a groan, halting in your tracks. ‘Ground? Yeah, hi. Time for you to open up and swallow me. Right about now, that would be great!’

“They’ve multiplied, Shoko. Dumb, dumber and dumbest have been reunited.” You mutter out the corner of your mouth to her. She replies with the sigh of a woman who has suffered far too much.  And you don't blame her one bit, because quite frankly, you're still surprised she hasn't gone senile from spending so much time with those two. Satoru all but skips over to you, arm linked with Suguru’s, grinning from ear to ear.

Weirdo. 

“We came to pick up our beloved.” He says sweetly, grabbing Sukuna’s arm with his free hand. 

“I’m not your beloved.” Sukuna mutters flatly, but you notice he makes no move to get out of Satoru’s grip. Shoko, shoots you a look, your wrist still in her grip, sensing that now was the perfect time to make your grand escape. You nod, eager to get away from this hell-sent trio. But once again, your plans are stopped by the ever so observant Suguru.

“We’re gonna go get lunch, wanna join?” His voice is low and teasing, almost like he knew you wouldn’t be able to refuse his offer. The reason being that Satoru was most definitely going to side with him. And no one can ever say no to Satoru. No, really, I'm being serious. One of the younger years, Kento, refused to lend him a pen once and Satoru threw a fit so terrifying that even Sukuna was traumatised.

"OMG GREAT IDEA SUGU, LET'S GO GUYS!" Satoru beams, having already turned around as if he was the deciding factor.

Oh, who are we kidding? He is the deciding factor…

"So I'm thinkinggg, ramen. You love ramen don't you Y/N? So does Ryo, isn't that such a coincidence? Ooo, or maybe burgers!" He's rambling by himself now, ready to walk off and expecting the rest of you to follow suit. Suguru just stretched out his arm, dragging him back to the group by the scruff of his collar, eliciting a particularly loud whine that did not sound natural coming from a man standing at 6'3.

"Let them answer first Toru," Suguru murmurs with a smirk.

You and Shoko open your mouths to politely decline the invitation, when you're hit with The Face.

Cerulean eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you and Shoko, bottom lip jutted out in a ridiculous pout. This time, he even bats his eyelashes for extra conviction. You immediately squeeze your eyes shut, feeling Shoko's forehead hit your shoulder as she presumably also hides from his gaze.

A noise of disgust is heard from behind you, Sukuna's lips turned up in a look that can only be described as agony.

"Bro, can you not? God, that face somehow gets more disturbing everytime I see it."

"Shut up Ryo, it's my secret weapon."

"It's only a weapon because it causes severe damage to one's retina."

You hate to admit that you found that one funny so you purse your lips, eyes still closed as you tilt your head back to hide your amusement. You feel Shoko shaking with hushed laughter beside you, hunched over with her face not having moved from its hiding place in the crook of your neck.

"HUH?? Nah, that's just rude, what the hell." He huffs, arms crossing petulantly. Sukuna merely shoots him a look, a wordless plea for him to shut the fuck up.

"He's playin' Satoru, stop being a bitch about it." Suguru sighs, swatting the back of Satoru's head lightly.

"Suguru, he just said I was ugly."

"He didn't say that-" Another sigh from Suguru. You really do pity the man sometimes. But most of the time, he's just as bad as his whiny counterpart.

"Yeah well, if the shoe fits." Sukuna, read the room. Please.

"EXCUSE ME?!"

You and Shoko, having finally recovered from your silent fit of laughter, are now watching the scene like it's a tennis match, heads moving back and forth.

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME??" "Do you want the whole list or…" "Will you two cut it out?"

Their bickering is drowned out as you share yet another glance with Shoko, sensing that now is finally the time to edge away from this uninvited chaos, slowly enough to not be noticed.

Andddd… you guessed it. You were stopped.

Again.

Satoru's mopey voice makes you turn around. You find him being held in a headlock by Suguru, whose free hand was also clutching the strap of Sukuna's messenger bag - was he sulking?- in an attempt to stop the two from lunging at each other like feral cats.

Yeah, you're starting to really pity Suguru now.

"You guys are coming right?" Satoru sniffed, chin resting innocently on the arm Suguru had around his neck. Suguru's eyes softened, grip immediately loosening a little. Traitor.

For fuck's sake. How does Satoru always manage to effortlessly look like a kicked puppy? And to make things worse, he was unfairly pretty. You're sure if you look up 'pretty boy' in the dictionary, you'd find his picture there. It suddenly makes sense why Suguru seems to cater to his every whim.

Shoko's lights another cigarette with a discouraged exhale. You don't blame her. You're close to downing a bottle of vodka yourself. Oh, wow. The smoker and the alcoholic. Duo of the year.

Satoru's pout deepens at your silence. You try. You really try. But, sadly, you're not immune to his puppy eyes. Your voice is soft and resigned as you finally answer. "Uhhh… yeah. Yeah we're coming Satoru."

"Weakling." Shoko mutters into your ear. You glare at her. "You were about to surrender too, don't even lie." You mutter through your teeth, flashing Satoru a sweet smile when you hear him cheer.

"Yay!! I knew my sweet Y/N wouldn't let me down. She literally loves me. Like so much."

"She tolerates you. At most. Don't flatter yourself." Sukuna suddenly speaks up, voice low and monotone, not betraying any emotions. But there's an underlying hint of something you can't quite make out. Your brows furrow, confused. That felt… almost personal?

Shoko looks down at you with a raised brow. 'What's up with him?' She mouths. 'Fuck if I know?' You mouth back, shrugging and trying to shun the small flutter trying to invade your heart.

You don't even have time to dwell on it as Satoru, newly freed from the clutches of Suguru, sandwiches himself in between you and Shoko, his arms enveloping your shoulders. He guides you towards the uni gates, animatedly yapping about god knows what. Suguru gives Sukuna's bag strap a final warning tug before letting go of him, the two of them falling into step behind you.

Before you know it, you've arrived at your usual ramen place. Yes, usual. Because, despite the dramatic sighs and the potential fights, this has somehow become a thing. Not regular enough to be called a routine, but it happens too often to pretend it's not one. All due to Satoru's unwavering notion that the five of you are 'besties for lifesies'. His words, by the way. Most definitely not yours.

But you hate to admit that you've come to grow somewhat fond of the time you spent with the boys. But only because they force you into it. Obviously…

The ramen shop was family owned, originally run by a sweet, elderly couple. But they had since retired, leaving the place to their son, Choji, and their daughter in law, Akira, both of whom were just as warm and inviting. The walls were littered with posters, and grafitti style art, quickly making it a favourite amongst students at your university. Not only because of its aesthetics and proximity to campus, but also the fact that they made what you could only call the best ramen you've ever had in your life. Seriously, you're convinced they used some sort of sorcery in their recipes because once you've had a bowl, there's absolutely no way you could ever eat someplace else again.

Satoru pushes the door open with unnecessary flair, the bell above the door jingling to signal your arrival. He holds the door open, gesturing for you and Shoko to enter, his face the epitome of pride. For a moment, Satoru thinks about letting the door shut in Sukuna's face, the idea of finally being able to win a point in their game of cat and mouse making his eyes lighting up elatedly.

And then Sukuna looks at him. Satoru gulped. He continued to hold the door open.

"Pussy." Sukuna mouths to him, trying and failing to hold back his smirk as he brushes past.

Satoru grumbles as he lets the door close behind him before loudly announcing his presence to Choji, who was wiping down a table.

"Well if it isn't my favourite group of trouble!" Choji grins. "You'll be glad to know the table by the window is free."

You send him polite smiles and 'thank yous', but you're all cheering inside because everyone knows the table by the window is the best table. Satoru claims it's because the light from the window hits everyone's good side. In reality, it's because it's the only booth seat, complete with cushions.

Choji migrates into the kitchen and you all shuffle into your seats with barely contained eagerness.

Evidently, Satoru practically throws himself into the seat by the window, with you opposite him. "See? Perfect lighting. No need to thank me guys."

"You're about to be inhaling three bowls of miso ramen. No amount of 'perfect lighting' is going to save your dignity." Shoko deadpans as she slides in next to you.

"I look damn good inhaling my ramen and you know it. The people deserve to see me in all my glory." He insists, pushing his sunglasses onto his head, chin propped onto his palm.

"Those poor souls." Sukuna mutters, sitting down on the far end, next to Suguru who ends up being stuck between the human equivalents of Tom and Jerry.

Before anymore bickering can break out, Akira appears before you, notepad in hand ready to take your orders with a warm, motherly smile on her face.

"Back so soon? Do I not feed you kids well enough?" She teases.

"You do." Suguru replies with a smile. "And that's exactly why we keep coming back."

She laughs, the kind that makes you feel like you're being enveloped in affection, gently patting Suguru's head.

"The usual I assume?" She asks.

You nod immediately, stomach grumbling at the mere thought of your usual shoyo ramen. Shoko follows, murmuring her thanks as Akira scribbles down the boys' orders.

Satoru opens his mouth and for a minute, you're all prepared for another bout of whining but his eyes light up, tapping a finger enthusiastically at the menu with a gasp.

"I'm gonna get extra beansprouts."

Akira is all smiles as she nods. "Only if you promise not to knock over my chili oil in an arm wrestle again." She says with faux strictness.

"That was his fault!" Satoru squawks, pointing an accusing finger towards Sukuna.

"Oh don't be silly Satoru, Ryo wouldn't do such a thing." She chides, ruffling Satoru's hair.

She tucks her pen into her bun, disappearing back into the kitchen to prepare your food, leaving Satoru gaping at Sukuna with a vexed expression.

Sukuna just leans back into his seat, looking far too pleased with himself. "Cry about it."

Thankfully, the food came before another pot of Akira's chili oil could be spilled. Big steaming bowls of ramen were set down in front of each of you, effectively shutting you all up.

Satoru instantly takes his spoon to sip some of the broth, eyes closing in satisfaction. "This is going to heal my soul guys, I can feel it."

"No amount of miso broth is healing that." Sukuna mutters, breaking apart his chopsticks.

"You're one to talk!" Satoru grumbles. He turns towards Suguru, eyes squinting suspiciously, back and forth between their bowls. "Why do you have more pork than me?"

"Cause I paid for extra Toru." He explains, popping a piece of pork into his mouth for emphasis. Needless to say, Satoru nearly dies.

"Sharing is caring Suguru." He says, chopsticks already making their way into Suguru's bowl.

"Don't. Even. Think about it." Suguru swats at his hand with frightening precision, voice eerily calm. Almost like he's done this a million times before.

He probably has.

"OW!" Satoru yelps, clutching his hand to his chest like he's been gravely wounded, all thoughts of extra pork leaving his mind. "You're supposed to be my best friend. Can't believe you hit me, that's basically domestic abuse."

"Wouldn't you need to be like… married or something? For it to count as domestic?" Sukuna muses, sipping his from his Sprite can innocently.

Suguru's ears flush a deep shade of red at this. Satoru, not seeming to have heard the little comment, continues to ramble.

"He always does this." You mumble around a mouthful, choking back on a laugh. Shoko glances at you, cheeks equally puffed out from the noodles she just stuffed into her mouth, "When has Satoru ever learnt his lesson? He probably gets off on this."

Whilst you chew, you feel a crunch. What the fuck? You look down at your bowl, and lo-and-behold.

Beansprouts.

"Fuck no. Not today." You mumble under your breath, diligently picking them out, one by one, depositting them into a small side plate.

Shoko, being the amazing friend that she is, instinctively plucks the beansprouts from the plate, popping them into her mouth wordlessly. "You're welcome, weirdo." She mutters. You just smile, giddily going back to your now beansprout-less noodles.

Not even an hour later, and the bowls were empty with all five of you slumped against the booth, hands on your stomachs. Choji makes his way back to collect the dishes with a satisfied smile at the sight of your blissed out postures. "I take it the food was good then?"

Good was an understatement.

"Always, Choji. Always." Suguru supplies for the rest of you. You don't know what you would do without him, honestly.

You all stand up, bags slung lazily over shoulders, getting ready to leave after paying. Akira walks you to the door as Choji waves you off behind the counter. "You kids take care on the way home now. Don't go getting into trouble." She directs that last statement to Satoru, who responds with a pout and a mumbled "of course not." She turns to Sukuna, pointing a finger at him. "And you, bring your baby brothers around again sometime, they must be so big now."

Sukuna bristles a litte, clearly caught off guard that she had remembered Choso and Yuuji. "Uh yeah… they're 17 and 15 now." He grumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

You don't think you've ever seen a person look so comfortable and so awkward at the same time. You and Shoko exchange confused looks while Satoru and Suguru are just nodding along like this is a regular occurence. And you're starting to think it might be.

"Oh my, has it been that long already? Time sure does fly, I still remember those sweet little angels." She gushes, a longing look in her eyes.

His face twists a little at the thought of anyone describing his younger brothers as anything but nuisances. "They're far from angelic these days." He murmurs. Akira's smile doesn't slip from her face, though you seem to detect a small hint of sadness in her eyes. "Anyhow, you take care of them okay? And bring them along soon." Her voice is soft as she leans up, Sukuna immediately leaning down to accomodate her height. She pats his cheek affectionately, the tips of his ears staining a light pink. He clears his throat as he stands back up to his full height, muttering a quiet "I will, ma'am." Suguru and Satoru hold back their laughter as they say they goodbyes, the both of them swinging their arms over Sukuna's shoulders, trapping him in between them. Akira pulls you and Shoko into a tight hug before sending you off.

"What the hell was that all about?" Shoko murmurs to you as you make your way back to dorms. The boys are walking slightly ahead of you, Suguru and Satoru still refusing to let go of Sukuna.

"God knows, I didn't even know that menace had brothers." You murmur back.

"This is your third year being his lab partner and you didn't know he had brothers?" She deadpans with a raised brow.

"Okay, well in my defence, all we talk about in lab is lab stuff! It's not like we talk much outside of lab. Plus he's infuriating enough in labs for me to not want to know more about him." You splutter, flustered when you realise you basically know next to nothing about your lab partner of three years. Except for the fact that he was smart. And that he liked to get on your nerves with that smirk of his. And that sometimes he could be attractive. When he wasn't talking, that is.

"And yet you still bicker like an old married couple." She smirks.

"We do not!"

"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, cutie."

"I will push you onto the road."

"Oooo scary."

You give up with a dramatic groan, bumping your shoulder into hers as you keep walking. You can never win with Shoko. Trust me, you've tried.

Your chaos of a group finally reach the dorms, approaching the intersection separating the boys' and girls' sides. Suguru and Satoru are still holding Sukuna hostage, Satoru's loud ass voice trying to convince the latter to let him hang out in his room, claiming it was 'way cooler than Suguru's.' Sukuna grumbles, but you don't hear him refusing the request either. With an enthusiastic wave from Satoru, a sweet smile from Suguru and a noncommittal grunt from Sukuna, they make their way to what you assume is going to end up being Sukuna's room.

You, on the other hand, are eager to get Shoko alone. Wait, no. Not like that - get your mind out the gutter. Although, the two of you did kiss once…. but let's not get into that right now. There were currently more pressing matters at hand. You take her by the wrist, practically dragging her to your room. You hurriedly unlock the door, pushing her inside with urgency. She (unsurprisingly) makes no protests at your sudden manhandling.

"At least buy me dinner first, cutie." She drawls, already slipping her jacket off and draping it across the back of your chair.

You turn to fix her with an unimpressed look, "Shut it, this is an emergency meeting."

Her lips twitch into that familiar smirk of hers as she lounges on your bed, making herself comfortable. "Let's hear it then. What crime have you committed now?"

You let out a long breath, looking up at the ceiling for some sort of support. Spoiler alert: you find none. "Okay so you know that whole pen pal programme thing Takahashi was running? I sort of, maybe, possibly, kinda, potentially…. signed up for it." You finish with a wince.

She blinks. "That's it? Babe that's not a crime, that's just you being… well, you."

"THAT'S NOT EVEN THE WORSE PART, SHO. Listen to me." You exclaim, eyes wide with panic and embarrassment. Mostly embarrassment. Shoko just watches in amusement from your bed, leaning back on her hands.

"Okay so - don't laugh. I may or may not have been slightly drunk when I signed up."

A pause.

"And then I wrote a letter."

Another pause.

"And then I sent it."

A loud cackle bursts through the silence and you stare at your supposed best friend in absolute betrayal, looking like you're about to unleash a Satoru level tantrum.

Catching the expression on your face, she tries to calm down for your sake, attempting to catch her breath in between bouts of laughter.

"Let me get this straight. You wrote your first letter to some poor soul who was probably looking for some much needed company, drunk? Oh, this is gold." Yeah, nevermind. She wasn't done laughing yet.

"Brooo it's not even funny, I don't even remember what I wrote. What if they think I'm crazy? Or worse, pathetic? Oh my god, I'm never drinking ever again." You groan, flopping down onto the bed next to her, tugging a pillow over your face like that was going to erase all your problems.

She leans her weight on her elbow as she turns to face you, gently plucking the pillow with a grin you really, really, want to wipe off. "That's like me saying I'm going to quit smoking. We both know it's not gonna happen."

You groan again, eyes scrunched shut, twisting around to lay your head on her lap in despair. Her fingers brush off stray strands of your hair from your forehead absentmindedly. "Watch it be someone you know." She hums.

Your eyes snap open. "Don't. Don't speak it into existence. I'm begging you."

Her grin only widens. "What? I'm just saying. Would be kinda funny."

"For you maybe. Not for me."

"Well yeah, you are my favourite source of entertainment after all."

You flip your middle finger up at her.

As the sun begins to set, Shoko, to your dismay, decides it's time for her to leave. She reluctantly gets up from your bed, stretching with a yawn. "You can just sleep over y'know." You murmur, lying on your back on the floor with your feet propped up on the bed.

"I would but I've got this stupid report due tomorrow and I haven't even started." She sighs, zipping up her jacket before slipping on her shoes. "I'll see you tomorrow cutie. And keep me updated on this pen pal of yours!" With a final goodbye, she shuts the door and you're suddenly left alone with your thoughts. You climb up onto your bed, silently screaming into your pillow, feet kicking behind you.

You think you might go insane.

Five minutes later and you're shuffling down the hallway to the common room in your striped shark-print pyjamas and batman slippers with a pout that hasn't left your face since Shoko decided to abandon you. You don't even know why you're going to the common room, you almost never go there, but something in your messed up brain was compelling you to go. You should know better than to listen to your inner voice by now.

You walk past the dorm pigeon-holes on your way, something you wouldn't even bother to glance at usually. But a flash of black catches your eyes.

An envelope. In your slot.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You halt in your tracks, walking backwards slowly until you reach it. "No. Fucking. Way." You whisper under your breath.

You're contemplating whether to leave it there and ignore its existence. But the other half of you wants to open it right here and now. You let out a small, undignified squeak, loud enough to make heads turn in the common room. Your cheeks burn, and you snatch the letter, legging it back to your room.

You slam the door shut, leaning back against it, envelope clutched to your heaving chest. Who the fuck even replies that quick? Did they not have a life? And then you realise you have no right to judge because you're also in the same boat. You slide down the door until you're sitting, knees pressed against your chest, turning the black envelope over in your hands.

Okay, deep breaths. It's just a letter. How bad could it possibly be? Worst case scenario: they think I'm clinically insane…. Oh my god what if they think I'm clinically insane??

You hit your head back against the door; once for your stupidity, and a second time for your cowardice, before finally accepting defeat.

You open the letter.

ᯓ★ notes from star: first series, kinda nervous... i hope y'all liked it!! as usual, comments and reblogs always appreciated. and don't be afraid to ask if you have any questions regarding this series :)

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[ssukunasslut]

missed my man a lot, so im on the hunt for cute soft fics

[luminiamore]

doctor?

suguru geto + black reader

cw: doctor/patient themes, power imbalance, medical play, mild dubcon, bimbofication themes, obsessive and possessive themes, overstimulation, dacryphilia, fingering, squirting, condescending praise, clinical dirty talk, semi-public vulnerability, professional setting corruption, pseudo-virginity themes, light humiliation, oral fixation, overall morally deviant filth disguised as healthcare. 5k words. an: guess who's backk (temporarily). enjoy lovelies! minors are not welcome! dni!!

The moment you stepped inside, the clinic didn’t feel like a clinic. It felt like isolation—like you’d quietly slipped out of your small village just outside Kyoto and entered a different dimension. Your hometown had its charms: shrines, elder neighbors, the gentle vibrancy of outdated electricity. Modernity had touched it, sure. But this… this was another level entirely.

The clinic felt expensive. Immaculate, even. So pristine that the polished marble floors looked untouched by human shoes. No echo, no heel tap followed your steps. That was the first thing you noticed. There were soft, smooth instrumentals playing on speakers you couldn’t see. The plush green velvet chairs—definitely custom, definitely overpriced—cradled your hips a little too perfectly when you finally sat down in the waiting area. Like they’d been molded for you. The walls were beige, warm. Matte.

You caught a whiff of something in the air that you couldn’t fully make out. Vanilla? Maybe orchids? Certainly not bleach.

Everything that surrounded you was engineered to make you calm and relaxed. So, why couldn’t you stop fidgeting? Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping between apps with no purpose. You weren’t even looking at anything. Just toggled through your settings app like something important awaited you there. Nervous was an understatement.

Your first visit. Your first pap smear. Your first time spreading your plush, brown thighs for a stranger in a sterile room. Your first time letting cold tools you couldn’t name and gloved hands touch where only lovers had been. You weren’t here for anything dramatic. Just a check-up. Just a yearly exam that you’ve been putting off long before you turned twenty. You swallowed hard.

“Miss, °❀ ?”

You glance up, snapped out of your trance by a soft voice calling out to you. It belonged to the same woman who had greeted you at the front desk—the one who handed you a clipboard and nodded politely when your fingers trembled. She was smiling now. White teeth, plump, glossed lips, and curly hair tucked into a low bun so tight it looked sculpted. She gestured toward the hallway with a graceful sweep of her hand.

“The doctor is ready for you now,” she said gently. “Please, follow me.”

You stood, your legs a little slow to move as she waited for you. The woman turned on her heel and began down the dim-lit corridor, her pace slow enough that you didn’t have to rush to keep up. She didn’t try to make small talk as you walked. Not that you wanted her to. You did.

You passed closed, featureless doors—each one identical, each one eerily silent. With every step, your stomach tightened, your spine straightened, and your nerves climbed slightly higher.

Then—she stopped.

Room 4B.

“Dr. Geto will be with you shortly,” she said with the same practiced warmth. She gestured once toward the doorway, her hand as still as her expression.

Inside looked nothing like a sterile hospital box. Muted lighting. Soft gray walls trimmed in cream. A golden desk lamp glowed low beside a curved white chair—ergonomic, plush, too elegant for a doctor’s office. The wide leather examination table sat center, its stirrups discreetly folded beneath. Along one wall were glass cabinets, pristine and backlit, holding high-end instruments arranged like artwork. Nothing looked cheap. Nothing looked rushed.

“You’ll change into this,” she said, handing you a folded silk robe. The fabric was butter-soft, branded with the clinic’s insignia in gold thread. “Undress fully from the waist down. The doctor will go over everything once he arrives.”

You nodded. Your throat was dry again. Heartbeat a little faster now.

She paused at the doorway, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than needed. Her smile returned—gentler this time, with a faint, amused curve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she addressed you with a wink. “He’s very gentle.”

And then she left. The door clicked shut behind her.

And then… silence.

Not an awkward one. Not dead or empty. It felt composed. Like the room was trained to hush you into submission. Even the air felt still, like it had been filtered and weighted to press against your nerves. You stood there for a second, unsure whether to move yet, as you held the silk robe against your chest.

You let a moment pass before you peeled off your clothes slowly. First, your crop top, folded neatly over the lone chair. Then your mini skirt. Then your lace panties—those last. You kick your kitten heels to the side. Once dressed in the robe, you hesitated again, fingers smoothing the hem as you glanced around.

There was no camera that you could see. No clock on the wall. No monitor beeping in the background. The room was too quiet. You felt... exposed.

The leather of the examination table was soft beneath you. You sat with your legs crossed at the ankle, your robe pulled tight over your thighs, and your hands in your lap. You could hear your breathing. The way it slowed, then picked up again for no reason at all. The way your heart kicked a little harder every time your keen hearing picked up on faint footsteps in the hallway, only to pass your door. And then there was a pause before you heard a near-silent knock.

Three slow taps. Measured. You froze. No, actually, froze.

And then you heard a deep, rich, and calm voice muffled by the door but unmistakably low and smooth, “May I come in?”

It took a second to process the voice before your throat finally worked. “Yes. Come in.”

The handle turned slowly. And Dr. Geto stepped inside.

Time bent itself around his arrival. You watched as the door opened—and the man who stepped inside made everything else in the room feel obsolete. Irrelevant. Too small to hold him.

Doctor Geto was ethereal, in a way that felt sacrilegious. Like something divine had dressed itself in white just to kneel at the altar of your discomfort. Tall didn’t quite cut it—he towered, his lab coat tailored to perfection, stitched sharp at the shoulders and cinched at his waist. Beneath it, a fitted black tee stretched just enough across the sculpt of his chest to suggest strength rather than show it off. His trousers were deceptively casual—low-slung, wide-legged denim that hinted at something far less clinical.

But it was his face that made your breath stall.

Raven hair swept back in a half-up knot, the rest cascading freely down his back in flowing waves. A single lock draped over his forehead, framing his cheek like it was choreographed. His lips were plush and pink, the kind that looked soft enough to ruin you with a single peck. His jawline was precisely cut by what you could only assume was the divine. And his eyes—gods, his eyes. Not brown, not black, but violet, unnatural and depthless. Eyes that looked designed to seduce, and knew it. They landed on you, cold and measured, and yet something in your gut coiled tight.

He didn’t smile—not like other doctors did. He didn’t coo or fawn or lean into faux warmth. Instead, he offered a slow, nearly imperceptible tilt of the mouth. Polite. Detached.

But not indifferent.

Suguru prided himself on restraint. On his reputation. Had he been any lesser man, he might have stammered. Might’ve let his eyes linger. Might’ve exposed the way his entire body pulsed at the sight of you.

You were more than stunning—you were created to tempt.

Your bubblegum pink lace wig, styled in flawless body waves, framed your face like a halo of soft decadence against your deep brown skin. Like an angel sent from above to tempt him. Your lips were glossed and plump, a glistening invitation you didn’t have to speak aloud. Your lashes curled up like wings, eyes wide and doe-like—sweet and naive, but he knew better.

His gaze dropped further, unblinking. The silk robe didn’t hide much. Your nipples were erect, poking through the fabric so obviously that he could even make out the piercings caressing them. His eyes stilled there—just for a breath too long—then continued. Your full hips were hugged by the robe’s cinch, your skin glowing and smooth, your thighs fat and inviting.

And your feet. Fuck, your feet. Soft, arched, the square white French tips glistening as if polished just for him.

You didn’t have to try. You simply existed—and it was already too much.

“Miss °❀,” his voice low, smooth, faintly amused. Addictive. “First appointment?”

You nodded, still too stunned by his beauty to actually speak. His eyes weren’t on you anymore after he took note of your answer, and you’re quick to notice the next source of his attention. He looked down at the sleek black tablet in his hand, fingers tapping something into the screen. It looked tiny compared to his hands—those large, veined, inked hands that should’ve been illegal in a medical setting.

It could’ve been that, which had you in a trance. You couldn’t help it. Your thoughts slipped. Wandered.

You couldn’t decide which would look better. Those perfect hands wrapped tightly around your neck, or maybe those same hands in between your legs. One bracing your thighs open while the other meticulously, repeatedly hits deep inside your—

—SNAP!

You blinked. A quick succession of fingers snapping removes you from your trance.

“Hello. Miss °❀?” he tilted his head faintly, expression still unreadable. “Still with me?”

You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to meet his. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Geto. Were you saying something?”

He offered a soft wave of dismissal, a sliver of amusement warming his sharp eyes. “It’s quite all right,” he said lightly. “And please—call me Suguru.”

He didn’t move, didn’t look up. But you felt it—that unspoken prompt. The stillness in the air. He wanted to hear you say it.

“…okay, Suguru.”

He breaks into a tiny smile for the first time since he’s seen you. His eyes shift back to the screen he’s holding before he addresses you again, “I was asking,” he said, tone still impossibly smooth, “why you put this appointment off for so long.. This is your first internal exam… correct?”

Your throat bobbed. “Y-yes,” you admitted softly. “It’s… my first. I just never made time for it.”

His eyes stayed on yours too long.

“Mm. It’s good you’re here now.”

You didn’t catch the way his knuckles flexed around the tablet.

His questionnaire started normally—boring, even. He asked about your medical history, any medications you were taking, and allergies you might have. Each answer you gave, he tracked something. The way your throat moved when you swallowed. The way you fidgeted with the hem of your robe. The tremble in your perfectly manicured fingers.

He was hooked. On every word, every nervous stammer. Every time you avoided his gaze, as if it might burn you.

You were just adorable.

He set aside the tablet on the counter beside him, the subtle appearance of the muscles in his forearm flexing slightly with the motion. Then, with a soft rustle of fabric, he turned toward the medical cart.

You watched him. Your eyes wouldn’t leave him even if they tried.

You shouldn’t be watching him this closely—but you did. The way he moved was slow, deliberate. Like he knew you were watching. Like he was giving you time to imagine. To fantasize. About all the things he could do to you if he weren’t your doctor.

He reached for a drawer. Pulled out a small box of gloves.

“Your robe,” he said, voice low and even, “Ties in the front, correct?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He looked over his shoulder. Briefly. “Good. It’ll make this easier.”

The snap of the first glove echoed in the small room. Your thighs pressed together slightly on instinct.

“I’ll walk you through everything,” Suguru said smoothly, now turning to face you fully, the white gloves fitted tight around his hands like a second skin. “I’ll be using two fingers to examine internally for any abnormalities. Pressure is normal. Pain is not.”

He took a step closer. Just one. Enough that you could smell his cologne now—something expensive and barely there. Smoky, like leather and incense.

“You’ll lie back, place your feet in the stirrups, and I’ll begin once you’re comfortable.”

His voice dropped slightly.

“Is that understood?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes.”

His violet eyes flicked downward for just a second, lingering on the shape of your thighs beneath the robe. “Words, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched. “…yes, Suguru.”

“Perfect. Now, any specific concerns before we start?” His voice was deceptively kind.

Your voice was shy as you fought to look everywhere but his eyes. “No...just nervous.”

“That’s normal,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “Procedure, even.”

You swallowed again, throat dry. You didn’t know where to look—his eyes were too intense, his hands even worse. You shifted in place slightly on the table, the silky robe brushing against your silky thighs.

Suguru let the pause hang for just a second longer than needed. Then words you weren’t sure you dreaded or anticipated came, “Go ahead and lie back for me.”

You leaned back slowly, spine pressing into the leather examination table as your heart thumped beneath your ribs. Your feet moved toward the stirrups, hesitating for a breath before slipping into place. Your knees spread open slightly, instinctively modest, even as you tried to relax. You still closed your legs, too embarrassed to let him see what you were hiding. He adjusted the light—subtle, angled—not too bright.

Then his gaze returned to you.

“Comfortable?”

His eyes were not sterile. They lingered. Drinking you in, practically consuming you from where you lay, robed, legs parted slightly, fingers curling into the edges of the table.

“As much as I can be,” you replied with a weak smile.

He hummed again—quiet, thoughtful—and stepped between your legs. Only a few inches separated you now. His gloved hands reached forward, slow, unhurried, and gently coaxed your knees wider apart. Not forcefully. Just enough pressure to remind you who was in control of the moment.

The robe shifted with you—bunched delicately around your hips now, Silky fabric falling open like a ribbon untied. Suguru’s touch was warm through the gloves. Strange. It made your thighs twitch ever so slightly, a subtle jolt at the contact. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.

“Good,” he said lowly, almost like he was speaking to himself. “Just relax.”

Relax. As if it were that easy.

You could feel the heat in your core rising. From the way his voice curled into your chest and settled low in your belly. One of his hands adjusted the robe at your waist. The other rested lightly on the inside of your thigh.

“Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable,” he murmured.

He rolls his chair closer to your lower half. To where his face is directly in front of your cunt. The sight of it, the sight of you- plump, soft brown pussy lips. Freshly shaven, he can tell. Your little clit was peeking in between them as if greeting him. He wanted to return the greeting. He was desperate to be introduced to the messy trail of slick coming out of your covered hole. All of it had his cock twitching behind his briefs.

He forced his expression blank. Professional. He reminds himself. His gloved hand hovered above your abdomen for a breath, then lowered.

“I’ll begin here,” he murmured.

The pads of his fingers pressed gently, methodically—mapping the soft terrain of your stomach, pressing down in practiced sweeps.

Each touch was measured, never lingering too long. But that didn’t stop the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted just a bit lower, the edge of your pelvis marking the invisible border between neutral and not.

“Any pain when I press here?”

His tone was even. But his hand… his hand slid along the delicate rise of your pelvic bone, thumb brushing where bone met softness. You swallowed. “No… none.”

His eyes flicked up to yours for a heartbeat. Then back down, just as quickly. Your skin was on fire beneath his gloves. Suguru told himself it didn’t matter. That it was just routine. Just another check.

But the way your thighs had twitched when he touched you earlier? The way your robe was slowly slipping further open with every shift of your hips? He felt it. The pull. Like gravity. Like gravity with intention. Still, he moved on. Lower still.

“Let me know if that changes,” he said quietly, reaching for the small bottle of lube on the silver tray, the click of its cap punctuating the silence.

His fingers moved with quiet certainty. Practiced. Clean. Not hurried, but not hesitating either. He tilted the bottle in one gloved hand, squeezing just enough of the clear gel onto the other. The lubricant caught the low light and gleamed like glass as it spread across his fingers. “I’m going to begin the internal portion now,” Suguru said.

And you nodded—fast, too eager. Your breath had already caught.

The cold made contact before you could fully prepare. A soft gasp left your lips as the cool slickness brushed against your entrance. Your hips twitched without your permission, thighs clenching instinctively around the sensation.

“Breathe,” Suguru said again, gentler now.

And then his hand was on your thigh, grounding. He didn’t grip, but you felt enough pressure to spread you further, the soft robe bunching higher on your hips as your legs parted more freely.

“Just relax,” he added. “We’ll take our time.”

He hadn’t even inserted his fingers yet, but it already felt like he was inside your head. Like he was taking his time on purpose. Watching your body react and your nerves draw themselves taut in anticipation. And as he knelt a little closer, lining up his touch with that same clinical precision, your hands curled into the paper lining of the table.

Suguru pressed gloved fingers against your folds. He didn’t rush. Just parted you slowly, like you were made of something precious, and maybe you were. Because even with the thin barrier of latex between his skin and yours, he could feel the heat of your cunt radiating up his wrist. His breath stuttered—so soft it barely made a sound.

You were soaked. Not just wet from the lubricant—but dripping. The gushy mess gathered at your entrance shone against the dim lamplight, pooling around the edges of his touch like liquid heat. And he knew. He knew it wasn’t just your nerves. You were reacting to him. Because of him.

His jaw flexed. He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying not to let the twitch in his cock show on his face. Not yet.

“Still doing okay?” he asked, voice deceptively calm as he rubbed two fingers gently along your entrance—spreading the lube, warming you to him.

You whimpered softly. “Mhm…”

Fuck.

He should’ve never agreed to take this appointment. Should’ve had one of the nurses handle it. Should’ve walked away the second he saw your name on the intake form.

But he didn’t.

He leaned in instead, breath ghosting closer to your cunt. His eyes didn’t leave it—studying how your folds responded, how your hole twitched slightly under the chill, already clenching around nothing, as if you were waiting for him.

Suguru swallowed. His cock throbbed harder against his waistband. Then, with careful precision, he pressed the tip of his middle finger against your entrance. And pushed in. Just a knuckle. Just enough to make your hips jolt and a tiny gasp leave your lips.

Tight. Soft, too. The doctor before you thought. His finger slid deeper, slow and deliberate—until his knuckle disappeared into the wet heat of your walls. And he paused there, letting you adjust. Letting himself adjust.

If he moved any faster, he might forget who he’s supposed to be. His finger curled slightly inside you, testing your depth, your heat. He was supposed to check for swelling and irregularities, and to be fair, he was. But what he was more interested in was that spongy deep inside your sweet pussy.

He added a second finger before warning you, and the way your cunt clamped around him made his jaw twitch.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You’re doing so good.”

Your hips tilted, almost instinctively, following the subtle rhythm of his fingers as they curled up into your walls. Suguru’s gaze never left your face now—watching the tiny flickers of expression bloom and break across it. Your parted lips, the slight twitch in your brow, the way your lashes fluttered, his fingers touched there.

“Right there?” he asked, tone perfectly neutral, but his fingers didn’t stop moving. You swallowed and gave him the slightest nod, breath stuttering.

“Mhm—”

“Words, sweetheart.”

Your body clenched around him at that.

“Y-yes, right there.”

“Mm.” he feigned writing that down in his head, all while letting his thumb rest lightly against your mound. Not rubbing. Not yet. Just enough for your brain to anticipate. He pretended to adjust his position, just enough to lean in closer between your thighs, lips parting slightly as if he could taste you through the air. You smelled so delectable, or maybe it was his senses clouding him. Logically, he knows there’s no scent down there, but he swears he catches a whiff of papaya exuding from you.

You were flushed and glistening, and everything about your body invited him further, like you were some divine thing he was meant to ruin.

“Such a responsive patient,” he muttered as his fingers twisted inside you once more. “You feel that?” he asked, hitting a gentle pressure point. His fingers were skilled, massaging through your tight walls, rotating and probing. Every slow circle had thighs trembling, a light whimper escaping your lips that you felt forced to cover with your hands.

You gasped—soft, breathy, helpless. Your breathing growing uneven as your hips are slightly rising from the surface you were lying on.

“Yes, Suguru—”

He shouldn’t be enjoying that as much as he did. He shouldn’t be thinking about slipping his fingers out of you just to replace them with his tongue. He shouldn’t want to drag you off that table, make you straddle his lap, make you come on his cock so harshly your head went light.

But here you were. All soft curves and sweetness and need. His name falling from your lips like a gift. And here he was, still inside you, pretending this was just a medical exam.

“Still tense,” Suguru murmured, fingers still curled inside you, slow and deliberate. “Your muscles are… clenching too much.”

He didn’t sound concerned. In fact, he sounded intrigued. His tone was almost soothing. Like the mess you were making on his gloved fingers wasn’t obscene.

“You’re sensitive,” he added, drawing his thumb in lazy circles across your mound. Not quite your clit. He was watching how badly you wanted it. His fingers were still working deep inside you with a precision that had nothing to do with diagnosis. “You hold a lot of stress here, don’t you?”

You blinked up at him, lips parted, your breath shallow. You whimpered behind your hands, voice muffled. “I-It’s just… I’m nervous…”

He hummed again, low and thoughtful, “It’s more common than most realize,” he murmured. “Especially in women who haven’t… experienced regular release.”

You tried to steady your breathing, to unclench your walls. But the slow curl of his fingers inside you made it impossible. He didn’t stop there.

“Do you masturbate often, °❀?”

His tone didn’t change—still so clinical, and yet your stomach flipped, thighs twitching under his firm grip. You hesitated, naturally. That alone was answer enough.

His fingers didn’t move—yet. They stayed buried, knuckle-deep, the slight stretch already making your walls flutter. But his sharp gaze remained locked on your face like he was reading every microexpression for truth.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he said, voice velvet-smooth. “I only ask because… your body’s responding like it’s starving.” A slight curl of his fingers punctuated the sentence, pressing right against that tender spot he’d already memorized deep inside you.

This time, you weren’t quick enough to swallow the guttural moan that escaped your lips.

“See?” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “Hypersensitive. Tight. You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

Her? Was he talking about- Oh god.

He didn’t rush. That was the worst part.

Suguru withdrew his fingers halfway—a soft, slick squelch filling the room—before easing them back in with a deliberate twist of his wrist.

His thumb hovered just above your clit before gently pressing down. Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to taunt. A low, desperate noise slipped from your throat. His voice dropped a fraction lower, smoky now. “You’ll let me take care of it, won’t you?”

He curled his fingers again, hitting your G-spot with devastating precision. “You’ll let me teach your body what it’s been missing?”

You nodded quickly, breath catching. But he didn’t move.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You blinked down at him, dazed. “Yes… yes, Suguru, please—”

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Then he pressed his thumb down—firm, sure—and your hips jolted so violently, you nearly slid off the table. His other hand shot out, gripping your thigh like a vice, keeping you perfectly still. His touch wasn’t frantic. It was clinical. Methodical. Slow. He circled your clit with the same care, the same precision, he used in surgery.

His thumb circled your clit in slow, torturous strokes—just enough to ache, not enough to release. The pads of his fingers never wavered, pressing rhythmically against that soft, swollen spot deep inside you. Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, drawing him in like you were made to accommodate his hands, and only his.

You didn’t mean to moan again. It just slipped—wet, broken, high-pitched. A sound you’d never made before.

He was watching you now. Not your face—your cunt. His eyes were fixed, mesmerized, pupils darkening as he observed every shiver, pulse, and flutter that betrayed how close you already were.

It was humiliating.

It was divine.

“So easy,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly, like he was documenting a symptom. “You poor thing. If this is what it takes to break you…”

His words made your toes curl in the stirrups. He didn’t finish the sentence.

Instead, he let the flat of his thumb slide down, slow and dragging, until it hovered just above where he was sinking into you. He watched a thread of your slick connect his glove to your cunt when he pulled back slightly. His tongue pressed briefly to the inside of his cheek.

“You’re going to make a mess,” he said softly, almost like a warning, thumb still tracing slow, maddening circles. “That’s alright. I’ll clean you up when we’re done.”

You let out another moan at that—high and small, your legs twitching again.

“Keep them open,” he reminded you gently. His hand on your thigh didn’t move, but his grip tightened. You tried. You tried so hard to hold still, to be good for him, but you were trembling. Overwhelmed by the pressure. Your back arched slightly off the table as he angled his fingers, finding a new spot that made your stomach flutter. His control was terrifyingly holy.

He knew you were close. He could feel it in the way your thighs quivered and clenched, in the way your walls milked his fingers with every punch to your spot.

“You’re going to come soon, aren’t you?”

He said it so casually. Like he was asking about the weather. You nodded, frantic, mouth falling open to beg.

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Let me guess… no one’s ever made you feel this way before.”

You barely nodded, eyes fluttering and rolling in the back of your skull. You could feel light tears teetering at the base of your eyelids, threatening to fall and ruin your light makeup. “That’s alright.”

“I’ll teach you everything,” he murmurs as he moves his thumb to press a soft, faint kiss to your pretty clit. Tears fall down your cheeks as you whine when he curls his fingers, harshly, just once more, you swear you feel them deeper.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

The words barely left Suguru’s lips before your back bowed off the table, vision white-hot—then a rush. A beautiful, clear stream arced from your soaked cunt, spraying directly onto his face. Your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. It wasn’t yours anymore. It belonged entirely to the man below you, continuously pushing his fingers in and out of your overflowing pussy.

His body stills for a second, watching you, observing you really. He really shouldn’t. He should attempt to keep a semblance of professionalism, but look at you. This view of you right now, the look of absolute pleasure on your face. You could rival the most beautiful painting by Picasso. He took a mental picture.

He’d be a fool if he didn’t at least taste you before he scheduled your next session. He leaned until there was no distance between you and your gushing lips, and wrapped his lips around your mound, sucking harshly. Your thighs trembled so hard he had to hold you down.

You tasted just as sweet as you smelled; it was so addicting that his eyes couldn’t help but roll back before he decided to move harsher, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

Suguru’s tongue was sinful and relentless. He explored you, drinking down everything you had to offer. Even when the tremors faded, you kept spilling into his mouth, helpless to his movements, compelling him to keep devouring you and dragging your body deeper into overstimulation.

You didn’t know what to grab—his hair, the edge of the table, your own thighs—but your hands scrambled for something, anything, as wave after wave pulsed through your core. Your body twitched violently beneath him, your sobs now staticky and wordless.

Suguru didn’t stop. He licked and sucked like a man possessed. When he finally pulled back, slowly, painfully, it was only because your trembling had started to resemble spasms. Your robe was soaked, your inner thighs glistening, your breath shallow and broken. He exhaled once, steadying his own heartbeat, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—eyes still locked on your dripping folds. His voice, when it returned, was rougher than before,

“You should’ve come to me sooner,” he murmured, almost thoughtfully. “Never mind that now. Shall we schedule a follow-up?”

[16llui]

The crow's song

When by fate or by chance alone you wake up inside a novel, your first instinct is to try to save your favorite character, Sylus Qin. Stars align again, and now you're his wife, but only on paper. Or not? Will you be able to change the plot, when it looks like even Sylus himself is against it?

✧ Chapters: 1/8

Chapter 1. Early goodbyes

✧ t.w. slight angst, non!mc reader, misunderstandings, english is not my first language, not proofread

✧ w.c. 1.2k

You feel like you've seen this dream before. 

The far part of the garden, a clearing hidden by the trunks of ancient oaks and the sound of the wind. The ground is a little wet, but it doesn't seem to bother the boy lying under the tree. You can't exactly make out his face, white locks preventing you from seeing the colour of his eyes. He is pointing eagerly upwards, and you look up just in time to see multiple crows peeking out from the dense foliage, silent and curious, hearing him chanting:

“One for sorrow, 

Two for mirth, 

Three for a wedding, 

And four for ...”

“My Lady, My Lady, you need to wake up now!”

Startled, you sit up in one move. In one sleepy blink of an eye, Lucy is suddenly right by your side, silently gesturing for you to rase your arms so she can pull of your nightgown.

"Lusy, what is going on...” you duck under her arm to get a look at a window just in case. The sun is still rising, its rays gleaming playfully in the rain drops on the glass. You close your eyes again.

“My Lady, His Grace, he is-” she helps you stand to lace up your dress, panting slightly as though she had been running. “He is leaving already, and I heard from Lu-...from some servants that he is finally going to that guild!”

At that, you wake up.

"Sylus is leaving? Oh my god, this man!” you hastily stumbled to the chair to retrieve your shawl, legs tangled in the long hem of your dress. “Would it pain him to listen to his wife just once? Quick, give me my shoes!”

"But My Lady, your hair -"

You only fix her with a very tense glanse.

After almost falling two times trying to put on the shoes (Lucy improvidently decided to give you random heels), you bolt out of the door and run down to the main staircase, your steps clattering loudly on marble steps.

When you reach the estate’s entrance, Sylus is already by the carriage. You see his shoulders stiffen as you call out his name. He turns slowly, barely surprised, and smiles lazily as you quickly close the distance between you.

“Please tell me you are not going where I think you're going."

"Good morning to you too, Dear."

Oh, so he indeed is. You sigh exasperatedly, ready to argue.

"Your Grace, you -"

His smile tenses. "It’s Sylus for you."

"Well, Sylus, I thought we came to an agreement two days ago," you look into his eyes. "You said you will send one of your people instead. What's changed overnight? Why are you secretly running away now?"

You were aware Sylus didn't exactly like the topic of conversation. Even his patience had its limits, slight annoyance visible in the otherwise calm demeanor. But you spent so much time trying to convince him to stay, that giving in now was seeming very unreasonable.

"Yesterday came the letter. My presence is needed to secure the deal. And I'm not running away." He frowns slightly, but then softens immediately.

"I appreciate your concern, although your worries are slightly exaggerated. The deal is important, yes, but we're only talking about a guild, Dear. This whole thing was decided months ago."

"It would just be better if you stayed, Your Grace. I have a very bad feeling about that one," you avert your eyes to the ground, feeling your control over situation slipping by the minute.

"Give me a real reason then. You know something, don't you?"

This makes you freeze. Of course he doesn't believe you.

You two weren't exactly close during the past months of marriage. You knew very well that if wasn't for the emperor's concern about Sylus'es growing power and influence, you would never even be close to becoming Lady Qin.

A wife? More like a constant reminder of the state of affairs and his place in the hiarchy. God, you weren't even supposed to be in this world. And now you were meddling in his business.

"I gave you all the reasons I had," you sigh, meeting his eyes. "Although I'm sure nothing I could've said would ever stop you. Do as you please, just... take care," you trailed of in the end. You wished he didn't suspect you of spying.

Seeming your embarrassment, Sylus doesn't reply right away. Tentatively, he reaches and fixes your shawl, hand staying for a little too long on the peace near your heart. You follow his gaze and notice he is looking at your wedding ring.

"If you couldn't stop me, I would have returned two weeks ago. As you see, I'm still here."

When you look up again, he is already looking at you, smiling sadly.

"Now go back inside, Dear. April is unexpectedly cold this year, even for the North."

He kisses the back of you hand and retreats back to the carriage. When he is halfway in, you call out to him again.

"Sylus."

The Duke turns slowly, amused. "Yes, Dear?"

"Don't delay your return. You will miss your birthday."

"I won't," he smiles.

You didn't go inside until the carriage left the view.

Of course now, with your ice-cold feet in hot water, you regret it a little. Lucy returns with some hot tea on the tray and Luke and Kieran in tow. She is trying to hold back the laughter, her blond curls swaying from the effort. Noticing your sullen look, she elbows the eldest twin slightly, but it's already too late.

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Your Grace?" he inquires teasingly.

You look away, annoyed already. Lucy steps behind your chair, eager to finally fix your hair.

"Oh no, did His Grace finally escape from your caring hands?"

You knew he didn't mean it badly, just tried to lift your spirits. It still felt like salt on a wound, though.

You learnt eventually that the whole estate was observing your performance with great amusement. And, well, they had every reason to do that. If the otherwise distant Lady of the House suddenly started acting like a spoiled spouse, coming up with various excuses to not let her husband leave home, you wouldn't miss that, too. But you had your own reasons to do that, so all the methods were worth trying, if it meant success in the end.

Success, huh? As if.

"Wouldn't you know that already, hmm, Luke?"

"It’s Kieran, Your Grace."

You squinted. This little bastard. Okay then, two can play this game.

"Oh, I see. So it was Kieran yesterday, too? Flirting with Lucy in the library, I mean."

Kieran snorted loudly. Lucy gasped and dropped the hair brush. Luke ducked down to help her retrieve it, their hands touched, and they started apologizing to each other.

Taking advantage of a little chaos around, you reach for the cup and look out the window. The sun was high now, and you could see the far mountains clearly.

Sylus will be there by nightfall.

You close your eyes and sigh deeply. After all this efforts, you just hoped you won enough time for her to leave. For them to part ways. For Sylus to never meet her.

Looking up, you see Lucy eyeing you knowingly. She pats your shoulder gently.

Oh, how you hope it was enough.

✧ a.n. sooo I finally locked in to write something of my own 🫡 it's 4 a.m right now btw...

reblogs & comments are highly appreciated!!

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💋💋

[ssukunasslut]

SOMEONE COOKED HERE !!!!

God knows i love me an isekai 😝

[xavierfan]

more bre3ding/cr3amp1e p-links pls 🫣

warnings: sexual content below! p-links and sexually explicit descriptions are in this post

i genuinely don't know what to say anymore but this is sylus. on everyone's soul, THIS IS SYLUS

this one too

this too

sylus likes to fuck his seed back into you himself, he does so quite softly. it's an extremely intimate act when he does it, he's gentle and slow, and it's really not about possession to him. he just likes it— the warmth, the slickness, the sound, and the lewdness of it all.

> heavy breeding kink with no hints of possessiveness, he straight up just wants you to have his kid idfk. he would definitely say stuff like, "you're going to make a wonderful mother to our kids." / "kitten, one day you're going to get pregnant and i'm going to be so lucky." / "fuck, kitten, you want me to fuck my cum back into you, right? you want me to get you pregnant, right?"

idk why but this one gives me a caleb vibes

this one is also him

this one too

this too 😭😭😭

i keep adding caleb links im tweaking

caleb really enjoys watching his cum leak out of you. he would tease you, "pipsqueak, you're wasting it", as he just watches you squirm. to him, this is something akin to 'marking' you, walking up behind you later while out talking about, "think you're still leaky, pip."

> he's also probably got a crazy breeding kink mixed with a little —or a lot— bit of crazy obsession idfk, shit like "when your belly gets big, everyone's going to know who you belong to" / "one day i'm gonna get you pregnant" / "you'd look so good carrying my child, pips" / "if you let it all out, you'll hurt my feelings pips."

i think rafayel kind of goes feral once you let him cum in you... like he just keeps going idk

teasing him

rafayel is less breeding kink more crazy about you. loves anything to do with you, sex is not an exception, and he puts you on a pedestal a little differently to the rest of the boys. a bit like a mutt, you let him cum in you and suddenly he can't stop rutting into you, trying to chase another high.

> less breeding kink, more pathetic subby male who is so fucking excited to be fucking you. "fuck. fuck. fuck. 'm gonna cum again, please? please let me keep going?" / "princess, you feel soo good, please." / "princess, i'm sorry, let's keep going..." / "i'll be so good for you, princess, let me keep going."

sorry i know you specifically asked for breeding and i know this isn't but it still has cum ...

this is also zayne idk

zayne....

zayne rarely ever finishes inside of you, citing that it's not good for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. idk how to explain it, he doesn't let himself finish inside of you because he's worried he'll lose self control.

> heavily likes the idea of breeding, like it probably takes everything in his body to not ram into you as he feels his balls squeeze, probably in your ear talking about "you'd look so beautiful pregnant." / "want to start a family with you." / "one day i'm going to get you pregnant, no need to worry." / "if you keep asking me to cum in you, i just might one day..."

i think xavier would like you fucking yourself with his cum... like shoving anything that comes out back inside

this one too

anotha one

xavier just wants to watch your fingers plug your hole up to prevent any more spillage. it brings a smile to his face to see how desperate you are to keep all of his seed inside of you, it probably gets him hard all over again prompting him to say something like, "don't worry, there's more where that came from."

> no specific breeding kink per say but likes the possessive element of pregnancy like caleb, "they'll know what we get up to at night." / "maybe when you're pregnant he'll stop coming up to you" / "want everyone to know how good you make me feel every night"

notes : i couldnt find that many links 😭😭😭 i've been searching all day so i'm sorry anon... pls forgive me... i hope the little blurbs makeup for the lack of links :(

[tojisdove]

Hello!! Can I request a jjk twitter porn link post dedicated to only fingering??😭❤️

"TW1TTER P0RN LINK5: PT5" — jjk men.

☆ cw : nsfw twt links w your favorite jjk men. afab reader. minors do not interact. ( make a request here! )

☆ note : dunno if back already, but my pretty boy is asleep and I'm way too bored sooo– posting a lil something

TOJI FUSHIGURO / SUKUNA RYOMEN

cw: bondage/ropes, veiny veiny veiny, lingerie?

you look so pretty tied up for him

kinda self indulging on veiny hands ngl–

gotta keep em cute thigh highs on, baby!

tried to be as gentle as possible for once omggg

GETO SUGURU / SATORU GOJO

cw: kitchen counter, way too many fingies ngl <3

tonight's dessert is just finger lickin' good fr

well, maybe you shouldn't have listened to him when he said it's never too much

slap, slap, slap!

it's finally time for some saturday night fun

NANAMI KENTO / HIGURUMA HIROMI

cw: lingerie, thumbing, idk if I could consider it somno

sleepy lil circles for his angel <3

finals week got you way too stressed, huh?

"white suits you so well, princess"

will never apologize about my obsession w this skirt clip

CHOSO KAMO / INO TAKUMA

cw: dry humping/over em clothes, mutual masturbation

he's always so so so happy getting to make you wet

lay comfortable and let your boy take care of everything ♡

he said he was too shy to slide your panties off :(

gotta of course reward him as well while helping you out

© tojisdove 2025. please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[ssukunasslut]

WHEW the skirt vid for nanami/higuruma 🫦

[apple-crunch]

LADS twitter links 🔞 — ! acc. must be logged in for the link to work !

⌗ ZAYNE

. . . Giving him a reward after working so hard

. . . He didn't learn human anatomy for nothing

. . . I know you know that outfit

⌗ XAVIER

. . . He knows where to spend his energy

. . . Already giving up?

. . . Coming over to your apartment

⌗ RAFAYEL

. . . His pretty plaything

. . . You're his favorite canvas after all

. . . At his service

⌗ SYLUS

. . . He couldn't help himself

. . . Fucking you in the clothes he bought

. . . This is just so him

⌗ CALEB

. . . Size kink. Thats it.

. . . Making the plushies (he won for you) watch

. . . Creampie with him always hits

[ A/N ⨾ lmk if u guys want more 😉 ]

[ssukunasslut]

3RD SYLUS ONE OH MY-

[miushu]

SYLUS QIN TWT LINKS

INCLUDES— fingering, clit play, cunnilingus, making out, groping, penetration, squirting, creampie, size difference kink, masturbation, bath sex, body worship (?), grinding, breast/nipple play.

WARNINGS— 16 links, all of these videos are for afab readers/viewers, don't like don't read/watch, make sure to be logged into twt/x beforehand, if some of the links stop working please lmk ! nsfw below the cut

your tight pussy clinging to his cock cos he's just so big

sylus having you in a mating press after coming back from another long and tedious business trip

he hasn't shown much interest in the size difference between you two, but you definitely have

sylus always manages to get you to squirt during round two

he loves the taste of your sweet cunt after you've had a hard day and need some help destressing

grinning in the middle of toe curling dick because you know you're the only one who gets to have him like this, no matter how many women giggle over him in public

sylus knows how sensitive your nipples are and he always takes full advantage of that fact

the type of shit he sends you when the two of you have been apart for too long

you're always so cute cuddled up in his massive bed, he just couldn't help himself

sylus rubbing your clit because you begged to feel him before work

despite what people might think sylus truly is a gentle lover, always focusing on your pleasure first

taking his time with his girl because he knows it gets you worked up

you convinced him to take a holiday abroad with you, the plan was to sightsee and explore but you ended up spending most of the holiday touching each other

he doesn't typically ask for blowjobs but when you begged him all prettily he couldn't resist

ever since you expressed your want to start a family with him sylus made sure to fill you up every night

sigh...his birthday trailer...he definitely eats the puss good

© ffiolette

[ssukunasslut]

weehee! titty sucker sylus is canon

[kuroshinju2ng]

Oh he would do that

[onliafaze]

@relentlessconqueror

Look at this loser (affectionate)

[relentlessconqueror]

after he's cried for approximately 15 minutes i would hold this 6'2 man in my arms like an infant

[ssukunasslut]

oh my baby 🥺

[satoeru]

this is so sylus coded

and i wont elaborate

nsfw link but its not twt so be prepared

[ssukunasslut]

this is SO night of secrecy. like are you fucking crazy??

[yenayaps]

Unspoken Bond one-shot | husband!sukuna x wife!reader

Summary: Sukuna gets into a motorcycle accident and forgets who you are.

Genre: modern au, 18+, established relationship, memory-loss, fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Fic warnings: ooc, profanity, sexually suggestive language

a/n: tysm to @univocalbaby for the idea!!!!

Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️

It’s the eighth day Sukuna’s been in the hospital following his motorcycle accident. You were thankful he lived through it and only broke a leg, but he’s unfortunately suffering from short term memory loss according to the doctor. 

You haven’t been around him while he’s been awake yet. The only time he really was awake was when he briefly came to consciousness shortly after he arrived at the hospital. 

You aren’t 100% clear on what had happened because you were going through every single emotion when the doctor was telling you, but apparently he woke up confused and tried to fight everyone that was on staff that night.. which led to them sedating him.

Multiple times. 

Bless his heart, he probably deserved it given the fact that there’s been hospital security sitting outside the room 24/7 after that incident occurred. You only hoped the next time he woke up, he’d be a little calmer, more open to hearing out the nurses and doctors around him rather than trying to pummel them, again.

You’ve stayed by his side for the most part, only leaving the hospital room for an hour or two at a time to go shower or take a walk. You’ve also gone to his favorite bakery to grab his favorite donuts every morning in hopes that he’d wake up to something freshly made, although he has yet to do so. 

You’re starting to think they gave him a horse tranquilizer, and just by looking at your big brute of a husband, you completely understand.

Luckily, the staff had no problem taking the sweets off your hands at the end of each night, you’re sure it also softened them up towards him as well. 

Turns out the patient from hell on floor 27 has a sweet wife, so he can’t be that bad, right?

It’s currently 11:27 am and you decide to tidy up his room a bit. Some of the flowers that were first sent to him have begun to die, so you do away with those. You also try to clear up the counters and floor as much as you can. 

Sukuna was quite the clean freak, even though he’s never complained or gotten mad at you for random clutter around the house, you just decide to clean up because you know it’ll bring him some clarity when he eventually does wake up. 

Right when you finish, you hear a grouchy little ‘ahem’ from across the room and you can’t help but hold back laughter when you turn around to look at your husband who’s obviously been awake and watching you for quite some time now. 

You don’t know if you’re just happy to see him awake or if it’s from the way he’s glaring absolute daggers at you, unable to move because one of his leg’s in a cast and propped up in a sling that’s hanging from the ceiling. 

He clearly doesn’t remember who you are and you’re genuinely curious to see where it’ll go from here because he was a bit of an asshole when you first met him.

“You’re awake,” you offer him a smile as you walk up to him and you can tell Sukuna is trying so fucking hard to not stare at your chest, because you are a stranger to him at the moment.

“And who are you?” He huffs out, most likely offended that you didn’t notice he was awake until he made it known.

“Your wife,” you say. The moment you tell him that he actually does look at your tits, almost believing you.

“Real cute, sweetheart,” he waves you off and looks out the window. “I don’t have one.” 

“Yes, you do.” You giggle at how quick he was to dismiss your claims. It reminded you a lot of how snippy he was with you before you started dating– when he tried to convince himself and others around him that he didn’t like you even though he did.

“No, I don’t,” he sounds so sure of himself as he crosses his arms and leans back to look at you, a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

You can tell he’s trying to flex his muscles in front of you– funny how the car accident wiped away his memory, but not his arrogance. 

But you can’t complain too much, you married this asshole. 

You also know him well enough to know the little smirk on his face could only lead to one thing, which is just ridiculous since he had just woken up. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” his voice was seducingly low as he began to basically undress you with his eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” You raised your brows. “What is it that I'm trying to do then?” You consider crossing your arms as well but you already know he’d continue to stare at the focal point of your low-cut shirt. 

“You’re just another volunteer trying to fuck a patient,” he sneered. You nearly choke on air because he genuinely thinks that’s what happening right now— never failing to remind you how much of an idiot he can be sometimes. “Last time I checked, that’s against HIPAA.” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever checked HIPAA at all, because that would not be the case here,” you groaned, shaking your head. 

“And now you’re calling me stupid, you are never stepping foot in this hospital again.” He promises.

“I never called you that— what are you doing Kuna?” 

He reached for the red button next to his bed and pressed it while holding eye contact with you, menacingly. “Nurse! There’s a little volunteer girl in my room that’s sexually harassing me.” 

You stood there in absolute disbelief over how quick he was to snitch on you and it made you realize just how good you had it when he did remember he was married to you. 

“You’re quite bold, you know that?” He says, smiling as he rests his head on the palm of his hand. “If you had just been a little nicer after getting caught, I would’ve given you my number. You’re actually pretty fuckin’ hot.” He concludes.

“Yeah? You probably don’t even remember it,” you spat back and you’re pretty sure he didn't, judging by the way he scoffed at you and looked back out the window. 

He’s probably trying to remember it right now, but to no avail. 

“Mr. Ryomen? Is everything okay?” A nurse hurriedly rushed into the room shortly after he tattled on you. 

“That’s her,” he points his finger at you. “Take that box away from her and get her out of here.”  

“Mr. Ryomen!” The nurses hissed at him, remembering how he brutalized one of her colleagues when he first got here. “Do not speak about your wife like that, she has been worried sick since you got here!”

You completely stopped trying to explain yourself once she came to your defense, thank god you decided to give the staff the donuts rather than just throwing them away. Sukuna also quickly realized how badly he had fucked up because not only were you his hot wife, but now you were also mad at him. 

To his surprise, you ended up staying after the doctor explained everything that’s happened to him— which might as well be a punishment in itself since you barely spoke to him after that.

And it’s awkward seeing him trying to talk to you because he knows how much of an asshole he was being and he was honestly as nervous as he was when he was on his first date with you.

He did, however, “accidentally” drop the tv remote on the ground— making you grab it for him because he was looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, ultimately breaking the ice between you two because you felt bad for ignoring him.

You didn’t hand the remote back to him though and instead scooted your chair closer to his bed so you could lean your head against it. “Do you even like the show you’re watching right now?” 

“Not really,” he shyly admits before clearing his throat. “Will you put on something I like? Please?” 

“Of course,” you giggled and the sweetness in your voice made his chest flutter. 

“What’s in the box you brought?” He nodded towards the counter in the corner of the room.

“Your favorite donuts,” you gave him a smile, remembering how he had tried to have them confiscated from you before kicking you out of the room all together. “I’ll give you one if you can actually remember what your favorite flavor is.” 

“Not fucking fair,” he nearly lunged out of the hospital bed but was stopped by the cast on his leg. “Hand over the fucking box.”

“Nope. You never even apologized for trying to kick me out.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” He says rather boyishly and glares at you for having the audacity to smile at his suffering. 

You thought it was funny, what a sick woman you were.

You get up from your seat to grab the box in the corner of the hospital room. Before you sat back down on the chair, he had already scooted over as much as possible and patted the side of the bed so you’d sit with him instead. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he murmurs to himself the moment you opened the box in front of him. 

“What? These are your favorite!” You remind him, even though he really wouldn’t know until he actually tried one. 

“Mine or yours?” He picks one up and looks at the pink, sprinkled donut with disgust. “You’re messing with me.” 

“Am not,” you rip a bite-sized piece off the donut and try to feed him, but he just stares at you– looking extremely skeptical. “C’mon just try it, I wouldn’t bring you anything you wouldn’t like.” 

He quickly gives in because he honestly can’t say no to you. 

And instead of admitting you were right and that he did like it, he instead asked you to feed him the rest because he remembered he was your husband and it was okay to ask you to do that. You were happy to do so of course, especially with him going back to his soft self. 

For a moment, he couldn’t believe how easy it was for you to just.. take care of him. 

Wiping the glaze from the side of his mouth, asking him how his stomach was feeling, rubbing his arm as he told you that he was feeling fine, you looking happy with the fact that he was feeling fine. 

He doesn’t remember much about his life right now, but there was something deep down that knew what he had with you was something he’s spent his life searching for. 

The fact that he just woke up one day to this was a shock to say at the least. 

“How long have we been married?” He felt bad for asking, but wanted to know more about you. 

“It’ll be 4 years 6 months from now. And we’ve been together for a total of 5 years.” you tell him and watch the wheels turn in his head. 

“Wait– we got married that soon?!” He was baffled as he asked you to clarify. 

“Yes we did,” you giggled at his reaction, it was how everyone else reacted. “You were the one who insisted. You got me this big rock too to make it even more convincing,” you remind him as you showed him the ring he proposed to you with. 

He took your hand and inspected the ring. He didn’t remember how much he spent on it and honestly didn’t ever want to know because it was fucking huge. 

“Your hands are soft,” he absent-mindedly mumbles to himself as he starts to rub your knuckles with his thumb. “Tell me more about us.” 

And you do, for the next 4 hours. 

30 minutes into the story telling, he got you to fully lay down with him on the hospital bed with your head on his chest, caressing your back because it honestly just felt natural for him to do so. 

And about an hour in, he’s fully comfortable with you– laughing at all the fucked up stories you had of him that a normal person really shouldn’t be laughing at. But he was anything but normal.

After the 4 hours, he starts to fucking flirt with you because that also came naturally to him. You tell him he’s disgusting and make fun of his broken leg. 

Your eyes then roll in the back of your head after he cheekily tells you that his leg was very much broken, “but this dick isn’t”. 

And his memory might be gone for now, but neither of you were worried in the slightest. The chemistry was always there. You say you’ve known each other for five years, but after just spending five hours with you, he feels as if he’s known you his whole life. 

Even if he were to never regain his memory again, you two weren’t going anywhere– your souls knew who they belonged to at the end of the day and that’s all that really mattered.

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[ssukunasslut]

bless him 😭😭😭

my favourite soft brute

[wearysparrows]

For What You Have Tamed

ao3/masterlist

Summary: In a better world, EVER doesn’t exist. You and Caleb lead relatively normal lives, all things considered. You visit him at his frat in Skyhaven, and you attend a party together. But the same feelings still linger between you, unresolved.

cw(18+): fem reader, reader is MC, Pseudocest, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Scent Kink, PNV Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Alcohol, Cigarettes, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, frat boy!Caleb, Bathing/Washing, Vaginal Fingering, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unsafe Sex, Pet Names, Not Beta Read, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube, No use of Y/N 22.9k

Your train to Skyhaven had arrived early. Or, more accurately, in your excitement to see Caleb, you had boarded an earlier train than you had initially agreed upon with him – and thus arrived in Skyhaven a solid thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Between your own studies and Caleb’s, you weren’t able to visit him at college as much as you would have liked – and certainly less than Caleb would have liked. Still, you made do with daily video calls, texts, and voice messages. You stepped out of the train with a vague sense of uncertainty lingering over you. With Caleb, it was always a toss up as to which role he wanted you to play, and with whom. Little sister? Girlfriend? So much time had passed that it was unclear if it was really a role at all. He used both epithets in tandem. Caleb didn’t see anyone else, and neither did you. You tried not to let these thoughts linger, and let them pass along with the coolness of the summer breeze that kissed your skin. It was almost too warm at the station, the kind of warmth that feels like it's living just under your skin, not quite able to get out. Pulsing dully with the excitement in your blood.

It was just some hours beyond dawn, when the sun had begun to hang itself in the sky, climbing to its apex with the hurriedness of an unbothered cat. The outdoor station was never crowded around this time, occupied by only a few other stragglers of the morning, dragging their feet to obligations unknown. Nothing dragged behind you, save for your suitcase, and the tote bag slung over your arm. The latter was ancient, with a silly smattering of rainbow paper airplanes on it. Caleb had given it to you ages ago, and you had never stopped using it. Your things swam loosely inside, free as birds. Since you were early, you opted to find a place to park yourself while you waited for Caleb. You checked your watch. It was the athletic kind, one with a tiny screen. Not quite the newest tech that the Hunters were using – you weren’t quite there yet. You didn’t have the heart to replace it with a new one, though. The watch confirmed what you already knew – you had thirty minutes before the impending arrival of Caleb. You looked up, intending to choose a direction, but there was, quite abruptly,  a big shadow blocking your view. A big shadow belonging to someone tall. Up your gaze went, over a pair of dark combat boots, cargoes, and a broad chest – wearing a cream colored cut-off t-shirt. Into a face filled with fondness, a pair of pretty purple eyes, ripe like the flesh of figs. Your brother’s full mouth was smiling at you. His dark hair was pinned down to his forehead with a baseball cap, which he wore backwards. His smile broadened as you looked, showing you his one crooked canine amongst otherwise straight teeth. 

“Since when are you an early bird, Pips,” Caleb cocked his head, hand on his hip.

“Is there a worm you’re trying to get?” 

He made a motion with his finger, like that of a worm inching along the ground. You couldn’t help the laugh that came out of you at his stupid joke. Caleb looked very pleased with his triumph. You moved closer to him, and poked a similar finger into his chest. The muscles of his pecs gave way under your touch, and you couldn’t help but spread your hand over them, instead. His necklace glistened with the newfound highness of the sun.

“Who’s the bird and who’s the worm here, huh?” You squeezed him again, unable to help yourself. Caleb hummed, clearly happy with your attentions. Without warning, you were crushed into an embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you like a big-brother vice. You were enveloped in the summer of his scent, the sweetness of fruits, the smell of wheatgrass, the cleanness of his sweat. His voice was close to your ear, tickling it. 

“Whether I’m the bird or the worm – doesn’t matter. I’m already yours.” 

Caleb’s familiar youthful cadence, which had never quite seemed to catch up to his body, sent a cascading line of electricity down your spine. His hands slid down your lower back, encompassing it, until they had landed neatly into your back pockets. 

“Caleb,” you groused,

“We’re in public.”

 It felt good, but you were still smack in the middle of a public train station, nevermind the daily uncertainties of your relationship. Caleb was still for a moment. He gave your ass the tiniest of squeezes before acquiescing, pulling back from you. He didn’t look guilty at all. Instead, he took your tote from your shoulder, slinging it over his own. Your suitcase came from around behind you, like an obedient, rectangular animal, with the help of Caleb’s evol. He grasped it in his hand. His face told you he almost, for just a moment, wanted to say something in opposition, but he relented instead, tone airy.

“Very true, Agent Pip. There’s not another soul alive who deserves to see my pretty girl like this. C’mon, let Caleb whisk you away from pryin’ eyes.”

His hand that wasn’t grasping the suitcase took yours, slotting your fingers together. His palm was so warm that it was nearly uncomfortable, but you had no desire to remove yourself from him. He urged you on with his touch, shortening his long strides so that you could follow him more easily. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s just like when we were kids. Except now you’re the one who wants to hold my hand, huh?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you, and then back ahead. The suitcase he was rolling behind him made a loud sound as it bumped over a rock on the sidewalk.

“It’s a little different now though, dontcha’ think?”

Caleb asked a question, but he sounded like he was making a statement, instead. He squeezed your hand, firm. An answer escaped you. You were unsure if he even wanted one. You were saved from having to ponder your response for much longer, though. Caleb had led you to his car, parked next to a meter that was filled up with a suspicious number of minutes. You eyed it, feeling certain he must have been sitting here for some time, in typical Caleb fashion – totally unable to relax, predicting every outcome. He always parked here when he came to get you, because the street was just adjacent to the station. You swept your eyes over his car, appreciating its familiarity. It was a beautiful ‘68 Ford Mustang – a Coupe, in a bright, apple red. Caleb had fixed it up into near perfection himself, tinkering with it in Gran’s garage before he left for college, face smeared with engine grease. By all accounts, it seemed as if he had just washed it, save for some leaves that had haphazardly fallen on the windshield, the gifts of nature from the nearby trees. Caleb busied himself with putting your things in the trunk. He could have easily used his evol – but instead he made a show of lifting your suitcase, muscles rippling under his skin. His skin was a healthy tan, aglow with the kiss of a new summer. It made the freckles of his face stand out. He was as handsome as ever. You wondered if he was still rejecting paramours left and right, despite your continued place as his ‘girlfriend.’ Surely he must be. Caleb shut the trunk, and adjusted the cap on his head. He came around to the passenger’s side door, and held it open for you expectantly. 

“Your trusty steed awaits.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. You came around the car, and slid inside through the open door. You nudged his arm with your elbow as you passed by.

“If this is my trusty steed, what does that make you?”

Caleb buckled you in, just like he always had when you were children. His hands adjusted your seatbelt over your chest, your hips. They lingered on your thighs, and then went downwards, to squeeze your kneecaps.

“That depends. Which Caleb do you want me to be today?”

He lingered in the open door, expectantly. His gaze on you was unwavering.

“The Caleb that you want to be. Not the Caleb you think I want you to be,”

You wrapped your hand around his thick forearm. Your fingers couldn’t touch on the other side.

“Dummy.”

Caleb seemed to think for a moment, his head tilted. Then, he shut you in without warning. Your knees had gone cold without the warmth of his hands. He reappeared on the driver’s side, and tossed his hat into the center console before getting in. 

“What I want is what you want, baby. Nothing else.”

The car came to life under his touch as he spoke. You watched his hand turn the key in the ignition. You reached to adjust the air conditioning, but Caleb’s hand knocked yours away, directing it at you so that you would get cool air. You wanted to smile, but you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you poked his bicep.

“Right now, you’re Stubborn Caleb.”

Caleb turned to you, and made a show of flexing the bicep your finger had come into contact with. It was as if he got bigger and stronger every time you saw him. You tried to force away thoughts about just where you’d like that bicep to be, and instead focused on him speaking. 

“And my lil’ green apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

He sounded like the statement pleased him. You watched him as he began to drive, pulling the car into the street. Its emptiness almost seemed odd contrasted with Skyhaven’s towering, black skyscrapers, passing you by like dark strangers. The red of the car reflected brightly in their glass, like a passing blood stain.  Caleb’s strong hands gripped the wheel, and you admired the span of his forearms, watching the muscles shift subtly under his skin as he drove. The alternating light of morning lit his features, but it was cut off in intervals by the passing of skyscrapers, so he was cast equally in just as much darkness.

“You’re starin.’ It’s just like when we were kids,” he echoed your earlier statement.

“It’s a little different now, don’t you think?” you said, echoing him back.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to you as he stopped at a red light. His hand found its way back to your thigh as he spoke.

“Yeah, pips. I do.”

He squeezed your thigh, as if affirming his words, though his voice, to your ears, betrayed a hint of uncertainty. The car pulled through as the light turned green again, and Caleb changed the direction of the conversation along with it, as if passing through a portal.

“So,” he rapped his fingers on the wheel,

“You hungry? You haven’t eaten yet, riiight? You got here so early, I bet you skipped it.”

You shuffled your feet on the floor of the car. The flexing of your thigh made Caleb’s hand move up and down, and his thumb drew idle circles on your skin through the fabric of your pants. You regretted wearing them now, because he wasn’t touching your skin directly. You nodded to answer his question, not wanting to confirm out loud that the reason you had skipped breakfast was to catch the earlier train to see him.

“I knew it,” he singsonged.

 “So, what should I feed you? Did you wanna pick something up, or should I whip somethin’ up back at the house?”

His hand was drifting up your thigh as he spoke, as if he wasn’t casually asking you about food. You tried to ignore the fingers that were creeping closer to where you wanted them.

“Oatmeal,” you blurted. Caleb looked surprised, his eyebrows raising a tick. His smile told you he was about to tease you for the simplicity of your choice, so you added an addendum.

“It’s just better when you make it.”

Caleb’s smile widened. He mussed his hair with his hand, driving with his knees for a moment, and it only made his cowlicks stand more on end. Even with hat hair, he was stupidly handsome. His hand went back on the wheel.

“Well, when you put it like that, how could your wish be anything but my command?”

In any other circumstance, staying in a frat house for any period of time would be an altogether horrifying prospect. Not so with Caleb, however. He was part of ΒΘΠ, a fellowship of brothers who all shared the goal of becoming pilots, on top of getting their current ambitious degrees. (Caleb, for that matter, was majoring in aerospace engineering.) Given the niche scope of interest, it was a small congregation. The rules for entry were strict, too. All the men involved were required to maintain a high GPA, positive social standing, attend charity events, and make all manner of community efforts. Caleb, who had rushed and nearly been immediately accepted when he entered college, now unofficially ran the place like it was the military. From what you had gathered from your semi-frequent visits, Caleb was popular and well-respected among the brothers – if not more than a little feared. His seniority in the frat had earned him his own room, finally having graduated from a double. You had some vague inkling that he conducted the rituals the frat was involved in, being as secretive as he was – though he pretended not to be. You tried not to pry, though you were certainly curious. Of course, Caleb took all of this in stride – finishing his education, becoming a pilot, hosting charity events and parties, working, sending you more money than you needed back home  – you had no idea where he found the time or energy for it all. When you had inquired after it, he had simply stated he could take one look into your face and find all the motivation he needed to pursue his goals. Looking into his handsome face was like injecting liquid sunshine laced with cyanide into your veins. You couldn’t imagine what he saw when he looked into yours. You had always been his little shadow, after all. Stepping into his light still burned.

The frat house was located not far from campus, nestled among rows of other similar houses with similar frats. It wasn’t exactly modest, but it wasn’t extravagant, either. Due to its highly competitive nature, it only boasted about ten rooms, even less of which were occupied by young men. You eyeballed it through the window as you approached, as Caleb pulled the car into the drive. It was a neutral sort of gray, with classic white pillars and window frames. Once, you had caught Caleb directing some of the newer brothers to power wash the exterior after a particularly nasty storm had left it dirtied. It was clearly well maintained, down to the clip of the yard. You could practically imagine Caleb on his hands and knees with the other brothers, working the dirt, bending the earth to his will. 

Said bender of wills took his hand from your thigh, which had stayed firmly in its place the entire car ride. He unbuckled himself, and then you, without a second thought. Habits of his that never quite seemed to die. Not that you wanted them to. As he reached over you, you could practically feel the heat that radiated from his skin, even without touching him. In the winter, he was like a space heater – and in the summer, he was something a little more sinister. 

“Stay,” he commanded.

“I’ll come ‘round.”

Caleb exited the vehicle, and came around to open the door for you. As you stepped out, he spoke, shutting the door behind you. 

“The boys know you’re comin,’ so they’ll be–”

“On their best behavior?” You finished for him. You had visited plenty, but Caleb was always quick to assure you that you had nothing to worry about. He smiled at your interruption, his eyes glittering.

“That’s right, baby. You don’t even need me to tell you, huh?”

He walked around to the back of the car, and you watched him as he went. His broad back, shoulders freckled from the sun. He walked like his dick was big, even from behind. Well, not like it was big. It was big. You screwed your face up at your own thoughts, shaking your head. Caleb freed your suitcase and tote from captivity in the back of the car, and shut the trunk. As you watched, it occurred to you that Caleb had left his hat on the console. You opened the door back up, and rescued it from its near-abandonment. Caleb reappeared before you, tote and suitcase in hand. He looked curiously at the cap in yours. You gestured for him to crouch, and he did so, offering you the crown of his head. You placed the cap back atop it, backwards, as it was before. Your fingers brushed against his ears. Caleb righted himself, looking much like the cat who got the cream, his mouth set into a small smile.

“Helpful girl.”

He gestured to the front door with a jerk of his head, and started towards it. 

“C’mon. Let’s put something in your stomach, yeah?”

Caleb’s word choice wasn’t lost on you, though you could never be quite sure if it was intentional or not, being Caleb. He was just like that. You followed after him to the doorway, and he produced the house keys from one of the many pockets of his cargoes. There was a little keychain he always kept on them – a gift from you – shaped like the radiant sun, cast in a yellow gold. Whenever you picked up his keys, it dug uncomfortably into your skin with its sharp points. It made a familiar clinking sound against the rest of the metal that made you feel like you were coming home, rather than visiting. Caleb pushed open the door, and led you inside. He parked your suitcase and tote in the entryway. You shut the door behind him, locking it. When you turned back around, Caleb was kneeling before you, his fingers going for the laces of your boots. 

“Caleb, you don’t have to–”

“I know, I know. You’re a big girl now, and you don’t need me anymore. Just indulge me, okay? It’s not that I have to. Maybe I miss doin’ stuff like this for you. When you were a kid, you’d purposely double knot your sneakers too tight so that I’d help you untie them. Just tying them for you wasn’t enough.” 

Caleb’s fingers worked open the double knot of your laces as he spoke. He tugged the boot from your right foot. The motion made you unsteady, and you instinctively reached out for his shoulders to steady yourself. They were sturdy under your touch. Your abdomen was square in Caleb’s face, and he leaned forward, pressing his face into your stomach. He inhaled loudly against your shirt. You swatted at his head halfheartedly, and your fingers dragged against the material of his cap.

“I’m all sweaty. I stink.”

Caleb shook his head against your stomach, burying his face there for a moment longer. His voice was muffled by your clothes.

“You smell good, pip. Your sweat, too.”

Your shoes were momentarily forgotten as his hands found a more suitable place cupping your ass, pressing you harder against your face. He moved his head down, down, until his mouth was just below your groin, nose pressing against your jeans. He looked up at you, inhaling against you with purpose. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to unzip your jeans, and put his tongue inside of you. But you were more concerned with his future than your momentary pleasure.

“Caleb,” you hissed,

“What will the guys think if they see you with your little sister?”

Caleb pulled back, his hands dropping back to your laces. He made quick work of them, shucking your shoe off and setting it aside next to its partner. He looked back up at you as he started on his own boots, a little smile on his face. His eyes were like a dark purple flint, sharp and calculating. 

“They’ll think whatever I tell them to think. Besides,”  

His boots went next to yours, and they could have been twins were it not for the largeness of his own. He stood back to his full height, and took your suitcase and tote back in hand. 

“You’re not my little sister.”

The delicate venom in his words twisted the arousal in your stomach into a creature that could only crawl on its belly, down through your legs, and into the ground through your socked feet. This was Caleb, both sides of the coin. Introducing you as his sometimes girlfriend, sometimes sister. Whatever suited him, whatever he needed you to be. You wanted to clutch at both titles, and you hated it. He denied you both. You followed him into the kitchen. He deposited your things neatly beside the marble island. 

“We’ll bring your things up to my room after you eat. You suuure all you want is oats? I picked up all kinds of stuff that you like before you came,” he said, as if he hadn’t just denied all of your worldly connection to him. Your appetite, which was already small this early in the morning, flagged. He opened up the big, silver fridge. It was the kind that had a water dispenser on the left side of the door, with an ice maker inside. The kind that only wealthy people had in their houses. Or, so you had thought when you were kids. The refrigerator at your home in Linkon was small and white, humble. Much more empty, without Caleb to fill it. 

Before the house, at the orphanage, you couldn’t even remember a refrigerator. 

You looked at the contents inside. It was stuffed to the brim, bursting with vegetables, meats, sauces, and all kinds of prepped meals. You recognized the containers that Caleb used to prep his meals, now. He had started doing it in highschool. Chicken and rice, sometimes a green vegetable. Nothing like the flavorful, thoughtful meals he was feeding you and Gran. 

How else can I be your reliable pillar of strength?

You looked at him, and opted not to answer his question, instead offering him another one in return.

“What about you? Are you going to eat?”

Caleb turned back to you, shutting the refrigerator behind him. He shook his head, looking as relaxed as ever under your scrutiny. 

“I ate way early this morning. Doesn't do me any good to workout fasted, you know? So, oats? Not eggs, pancakes, bacon, waffles…”

You eyed him, weighing the truth of his statement. You would have preferred to eat with him, especially after not having seen him for nearly a month – but he seemed for all the world to be telling the truth. You relented, slotting yourself into one of the uncomfortable metal stools that sat on the side of the kitchen island. You didn’t like that island. The white granite seemed kind of sterile, cold.

“Just oats,” and thinking the better of it, you added,

“Please.”

This caused a raise of Caleb’s eyebrows. He whistled, high to low. He rummaged through the pantry as he spoke, producing a bag of oats. It was the expensive kind, you could tell. Not the kind in instant packets or the cardboard tube, but the nice one in a bag that rich hippies liked, with some smattering on the back about ‘ our story.’

“Did you just say ‘please?’ Was my pip abducted by aliens in the last thirty seconds? What happened to the little girl who wouldn’t even pour me a glass of water?”

You watched as Caleb’s hands measured out the perfect portion of oats into a cup, and then put them into a pan. They were vascular hands, warmed by the interior of the house. When he flexed them around the handle of the pan, they stretched and compressed, like the formations of new lakes. My pip, he said. You resisted the urge to tell him that the little girl he mentioned had died in that old house in Linkon, and her heart was buried under the floorboards. He’d hear it there, if he came back to visit more often. Maybe it would haunt him, your little heart. It sounded like him. Thump. Thump. Thump.  

Instead of telling him where your heart lived, you sang a rhyme at him, the kind he’d read you from little archaic picture books as a child.

“She went to market, to market, to buy a fat hog,”

Caleb measured water into the pot after the oats, and set the flame of the stove alight with a click-click-click . He turned back to you, a wooden spoon in hand.

“But then she came home again, home again, right? Jiggety-jog.”

Caleb connected the back of the spoon with his palm, and it made a satisfying smack that echoed in the kitchen, like it was accentuating the truth of his words. You watched as his fingers naturally curled around the utensil, into a resting position. He made the very normal sized cooking spoon look puny. The image of Caleb smacking you flashed through your mind. You had smacked him plenty as a child – but he had never once raised a hand to you. Not like that. You wanted it to be you in his palm, instead. You flattened your own palms against the cool marble of the island counter, hoping it would take some of their heat away. It was painfully cold, in a good way. You tilted your head at him. 

“And where should she go home to?”

Caleb fixed you with a firm look before speaking.

“The one I make for her, of course.”

He turned back to the oats, which seemed to be bubbling. He stirred them with the spoon, and adjusted the flame. You watched as the little blue fingers of it were made smaller under his touch, licking eagerly at the bottom of the pan.

“Just you wait, baby. I’ve got it all lined up so I can take care of you. You’ll never have to want for a thing. Least of all a home.”

Caleb sounded so sure that you almost wanted to believe him. He really did seem to have plans in place that you weren’t aware of. But you were in school, too. Soon, you’d take the Hunter Exam. It sounded like an attractive prospect. But you grounded yourself in reality, not fantasy.

“You make it sound like you’re going to marry me or something. Surely you have more attractive prospects than your…”

The words little sister nearly left your mouth, but you held your tongue. Caleb’s earlier words still blanched your skin like the water that boiled the oats he would feed to you. He fetched a bowl from the cabinet. You searched for better words, but found none. You were saved by the sudden entrance of someone into the kitchen, having come down from the stairs. You jerked your head up to look. It was one of the brothers who was closest to Caleb - Liam. He was a man of tall stature, though not quite as tall as Caleb. He had a dark face with eyes that seemed wet with perpetual worry. His hair was cropped short, buzzed at the sides. A presence that was quiet, unobtrusive. He met Caleb’s eyes before yours. They exchanged a look. Liam spoke first.

“Your sister’s a little early. Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

Caleb merely nodded at him. You saw a tightness in his face, in the set of his eyes. Liam turned to you, and nodded, offering no words. You nodded quietly in return. It was always like this, with him. You knew he meant no offense – it’s just how he was. Liam retrieved something from the refrigerator – a bottle of something – and disappeared from the kitchen without another word. You watched him go, enveloped as he was in his own unique quiet. Movement from Caleb made you turn your attention back to him. He busied himself with the coffee machine, as well as the electric kettle. The oats bubbled, as did the kettle and coffee machine. The world’s smallest symphony of consumption, courtesy of your big brother. He produced two mugs from an adjacent cabinet. You regarded them curiously. One, you recognized. It was a soft shade of ivory, and boasted a charming image of half of an apple on its side. The other, you didn’t recognize. It was orange, and had a picture of a snail scooting along, as if he had somewhere very important to be. You almost wanted to ask, but your lingering question hanging in the air stopped you from doing so. 

Caleb put a tea bag into the snail cup, followed by the hot water. The coffee went into the apple cup. Both were placed before you.

“Coffee: black. Tea: no milk.” 

He was using his comms voice, as if he was repeating back something air traffic control had said to him. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you. Caleb grinned, and turned back to the oats, portioning them into the bowl with the help of the spoon.

Onto the island before you it went, and he stirred it with a new, silver spoon, one meant for eating off of. You peered over the rim. By the looks of it, he had added all kinds of extras. Milk, butter, salt, brown sugar, cinnamon, blueberries…and whatever else he did that made it taste so good.

Maybe it was just better because he had made it for you.

Caleb pushed the bowl toward you expectantly. It was a simple, white, ceramic. 

“Eat,” he encouraged. 

“Otherwise you might blow away. There’s supposed to be a storm tonight. Maybe even earlier.” 

As if you had planned to do literally anything else with the meal before you. When you were a kid, the storms would send you careening into the little coat closet, stuffing yourself up against the big coats and long forgotten mothballs. Rather than try to coax you out, Caleb would climb in after you, and curl his big body over yours. His legs caged your thighs, like bulwark against both yourself and the storm. He would talk endlessly, about anything, to distract you. When he ran out of things to say, he would make up stories – which he was terrible at. 

Once upon a time, there was a little princess, trapped deep in the dark, surrounded by moth-bunnies and big, big coats. But a great knight, who was very handsome and tall, came to rescue her from the dark. When she lifted his visor to see his face, it glowed radiant like the sun – and all the darkness was cast away, and she was no longer afraid.

When he ran out of those, he still had one thing to fall back on – the natural sounds of his body, which never failed to finally lull you into a state of calm.

Just listen to my heart instead, pipsqueak. I’m right here. I’ll always be by your side.

You spooned the oatmeal into your mouth. As expected, it was delicious. Your usual packet-milk combo just couldn’t compare. You swallowed, and pointed your spoon at Caleb.

“And you might blow away if you insist on subsisting on nothing but your prepped meals.”

You gestured to the fridge instead, where the perpetrators sat in their glass containers, silently awaiting their master to retrieve them for their dark purpose. 

“Mm..it would take a lot more than that to knock your Caleb down, I think.”

He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, and his eyes followed the motion of your spoon moving from your bowl to your mouth. He didn’t wait for your retort before he spoke again.

“I’m going to bring your stuff up to my room while you finish up. No rush.” Caleb gripped your suitcase and tote, and headed towards the stairs. His room was on the top floor, with a balcony that could be used to survey lesser passers-by on the sidewalk, if one so chose. You hurriedly scraped at your oats, and sipped at the last dregs of your coffee and tea, instead of watching him go up the stairs like you wanted to. There was a series of thuds as you listened, coming from the direction of his room. As you scarfed at the last of your meal, Caleb reappeared from the stairwell, and swept the now empty bowl from your hands with his evol, floating it into the sink, along with the snail and apple mugs. They were like a strange parade of little soldiers, bobbing up and down, going into their metal trench. A watery doom. You reached for your bowl as it went instinctually, but let your hands fall. Caleb just laughed. Your body wasn’t far after this procession, and you were lifted into the air by the reflective blue fractals of Caleb’s evol, over the kitchen island, and into his waiting arms, like a princess. 

“Caleb!”

He nodded resolutely, heading for the stairs once again, clearly charmed with his cargo in tow. All of him enveloped you. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

He leaned closer as he went up the stairs. Your ear kept bouncing up near his lip with his movements, and he spoke softly into it. 

“Just kiddin.’ You can say it all you want. I like it when you call my name.”

You shuddered reflexively. 

Caleb brought you through the open door to his room, which proudly boasted his last name in big letters: XIA. 

His room was decently sized, though a simple affair. It had become clear to you that Caleb lived a more spartan lifestyle than you realized after you started visiting him at college. The room sported a desk, which contained some of his study materials, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, and a queen sized bed. Nothing lined the walls. The only decoration it sported was a few model planes along the shelf, and a photo of the two of you on the nightstand. It was his favorite – the one where you were on his back, looking over at the camera. For a college student's room, it was fastidiously clean – nevermind a frat guy. You made a mental note to bring him something to liven it up, like a plant. Or something. Anything, really.

Caleb’s evol shut and locked the door behind you. Instead of setting you to your feet like you had expected, he set you delicately into his bed, on top of his plain white sheets. He crawled in after you, tossing his hat on the bedside table, and slotted himself behind you, a big breath leaving his body. You fit perfectly against the shape of him, like you were meant to be there. His big arm wrapped around your front, just below your breasts. It was still early, and there was a cascade of the sun’s rays coming in from the balcony windows, onto the place where your bodies met. It was hard to differentiate what was the warmth of Caleb’s body, and what was the warmth of the sun. You nudged him gently with your elbow.

“Are we going back to bed? This isn’t like you, mister up-and-at-em.” 

You found yourself whispering, as if there were some reason to whisper, now that you were in his room. Caleb huffed warm air against the back of your hair. He whispered, too.

“You’re right. But when you’re around, I can finally relax, pips. Makes me sleepy.” 

He curled himself tighter around you as he spoke, just like he used to, in the darkness of the little closet. You could feel his dick getting harder against your back. Neither of you mentioned it. You stayed like that for a time, and you felt Caleb’s breathing become more even. Your own eyes fluttered. You thought he must have fallen asleep, but he spoke groggily against your neck.

“Not sleepy?”

You shook your head against the pillow.

“Not not sleepy. Just not asleep yet.”

Caleb’s hand stroked up and down your upper arm soothingly. 

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

His voice sounded teasing, and you weren’t quite sure how serious he was being. You had always told him his voice sucked when you were younger. In reality, his singing voice soothed you more than anything else. He was a good musician, too. Even if his ukulele playing had annoyed you when you were kids.

“Yeah.”

Caleb was quiet behind you. You thought that he might not actually want to sing – but he started just as soon as you opened your mouth to make a joke. You listened quietly as his soft voice floated over the summer air in the room.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est belle?”

You recognized this. A little french lullaby from your childhood, one he would sing to you often. Especially when you couldn’t sleep, when the rain pelted the windows of that little house in Linkon, and the thunder shook its walls.

“Dites-moiPourquoiLa vie est gai?

Dites-moiPourquoi,Chère mad’moiselle,”

You let your eyes slip shut. Your body relaxed into Caleb’s, and he held you closer. The last of the song tickled the back of your neck with the vibrations of his voice. His fingers stroked down your forearm, gently petting you.

“Est-ce queParce queVous m’aimez?”

When you drifted, you fell into a dreamless sleep, lulled by the last of Caleb’s voice, and the warm grasp of his hold.

You woke to a harsh clap of thunder, your eyes forced open by the sound. You were momentarily disoriented. This was not your ceiling. Not your bed. Definitely not your room. You sat up, trying to get your bearings. Directly in your line of sight was the form of your brother, illuminated only by the orange light of his desk lamp. He was absorbed in something, his pen spinning over the knuckles of his right hand as he pondered. His left hand was over his mouth, rubbing at his jaw. Even from this distance, you could hear the soft sound of his skin scraping against the stubble there. The warmth from the light almost made his eyes swell with the pink that swam in the bottom of his irises, like the rising fresh of blood underneath thin skin. He turned towards you, and his eyebrows raised as he saw you sitting up, straight as a board. He crossed the room you in nearly an instant, pen dropped, and work quickly forgotten.

Your heart clattered against your ribs again at the sound of the thunder, and you gripped the sheets. It had been a long time since you were the little girl who crawled into the closet to hide. Caleb stood over you, looking extra tall from your low vantage point on his bed. You wanted to crawl inside of him, instead of the dark closet. Be surrounded by his warm insides, safe. Right next to the perpetual beat of his heart you’d curl, wrap your hands around its valves. Sink your teeth in.

“You alright, pips? Thunder still psychs you out, yeah? I’m here.” 

He sat on the edge of the bed, adjacent to you. The weight of his body caused your own to move just a bit closer to him. You frowned at him. Something wanted to change in you. You didn’t want to be the scared little girl in his eyes, anymore. You were an adult now, and so was he. Soon, you’d be on the field, taking out Wanderers and keeping the people of Linkon safe. You’d long been over your fear. You crawled around Caleb instead of answering his question, or going into his arms, like you so wanted to. You slipped from the bed, and went to the glass door of the balcony. 

Your hand slid the door open, feeling like it wasn’t quite a part of you as it did so. It was only raining lightly, but the clouds above were an angry swirl of blues and grays, threatening to turn torrential, like great ships tossed at sea. You saw lighting clash in the belly of them, and the sound made the hair on your arms stand on end. Still, you needed Caleb to see that you weren’t that little girl in the closet anymore. You had unstuck yourself from him, from the beat of his heart, from the stories of knights and princesses. You took a step out onto the concrete of the balcony. It was icily cold against your bare feet, and the smell of the rain whipped into your senses in full force. You had half expected Caleb to drag you back inside, but he didn’t – neither with his evol, nor his hands. Instead, he came out after you, a presence behind your back. He hadn’t touched you, but you felt the warmth of his body there. He was quiet.

No rain touched you. Not even a single drop. You checked your clothes, your exposed arms – nothing. Dryer than the day you were born. You cast your eyes above you, back to the sky. Suspended around you were the bodies of hundreds of little raindrops – unable to reach their destination on the earth. They domed around you, like a soft, watery cocoon. In them, you saw hundreds of tiny reflections of your own confused face. You turned around to Caleb, who looked down at you in turn. He didn’t even have a hand raised to keep the drops at bay. So precise was his control over his evol that he no longer even needed to gesture. As you watched, the droplets formed a little ring above his head. In a flash of lighting, they looked for a moment like a bright halo around him. Then, it was gone. Words came to your lips, and you let them fall. You didn’t hold them, like Caleb with the drops.

“You don’t need to protect me from raindrops.”

Caleb’s eyebrows raised. He sounded teasing.

“You tellin’ me what to do, now? This isn’t the way I’d like to see you get wet, princess.”

The feeling his words aroused in you only served to anger you more. It was what he was always doing – trying to redirect you, to get you to think about something else entirely, to let him keep control. 

“You can’t protect me forever, Caleb.”

You hated the way he could command the sky, the very air, all things. Making things fly, crushing them under the weight of his mind. To give you wings, or clip them. It was just as the way he treated you – like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to let you fledge, or keep you caged forever. Never quite choosing a real label for your relationship. Neither were real, fabricated upon nothing but your mutual rapport. There wasn’t even any true blood between you. So what was there, really? 

Still, when you looked up into the lilac of his eyes, his perfect nose, chapped lips – you still saw the face of your brother. The face of the man you wanted to love you as more than a sister. You wished desperately that Caleb would let the rain fall, let it wash these thoughts from you, baptize you in your own fears to chase away your desires.

But he didn’t. 

The raindrops orbited around you, like hanging toys on a mobile. Caleb blinked at you, like he didn’t understand your question.

“Why not?”

Caleb’s dog tags reflected the rising blackness of the storm, as you looked.

“Because I don’t need you–”

Caleb interrupted you. His eyes flashed with a streak of lightning. 

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?”

All at once, the droplets began to fall around you again. You were instantly soaked. Your clothes and hair stuck to you, seeping the last of your body’s natural warmth from your skin into the air. In the time Caleb had been stopping the rain from hitting you, it had begun to come down even harder. The feeling of it all hitting you at once stung with the harsh whip of the water’s chill. Caleb stepped forward, until you were forced against the metal railing of the balcony. It dug painfully into your lower back. He pinned you there, with his body, hands on either side of you on the metal bar. Even with his clothes completely soaked through, his skin was impossibly warm. You could see the expanse of his skin underneath the wet material of his white shirt, the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Caleb’s voice began to sound frantic, higher pitched.

“Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. Do you want me to drop out of college, and move back home? I could get a job back in Linkon. Anything. We could have our own house, just you and me. I’ll build it for you. You can become a Hunter. Or, I can make you disappear. It’ll just be us, forever. You’ll never have to worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.”

Caleb’s face was mere inches from yours. He smiled through his words, eyes turning up at the ends, as if what he was saying pleased him, excited him. But his pupils were tiny pricks, lost in the storm of his eyes. Your body began to shudder from the cold. His words had stopped making sense. This wasn’t the Caleb you knew.

“Caleb…”

All at once, he seemed to come back to himself. Whether it was your shivering or the call of his name, you couldn’t be sure. His pupils drank up more of his irises, and his voice returned back to its normal, boyish cadence. 

“Shit, baby, look at you. You’re soaked. Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him any longer, nor mention the sudden change in his demeanor. He didn’t even seem to care that he was also soaking wet. His skin had lost its usual flush, and was pallid instead. After seeing the look on his face, something like cold resignation settled into your stomach. He slid the balcony door open again, and his evol gently ushered you inside, a little push at your back. You took a few frozen steps, until you were dripping in the center of Caleb’s bedroom. Caleb rushed in after you, and hurried into his bathroom. He reappeared a moment later with a towel. He draped it around your head, and ruffled your hair. 

“Do you want to take a bath? I’ve got this big room now, so I have one. Or do you want me to blow dry your hair?”

You let stillness sit between the two of you for a moment before you answered. There was something you needed to know, first.

“You want to take care of me that badly?”

Caleb seemed to sense your resignation, and that the honesty of his answer mattered. He didn’t try to subvert, change directions, or control. You felt the sincerity in his response, the youthful insecurity in it.

“I don’t just want to take care of you. I want to be the only one who takes care of you. The only one you need.”

The towel dropped from you, onto the floor at his side. You had already made your decision.

“Then take off my clothes.”

Caleb looked into your face, for just a moment, as if looking for something there. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. His expression turned into something unreadable. He gripped the hem of your shirt.

“Lift.”

You lifted your arms above your head. Caleb tugged your wet shirt away from your skin, and the cold kiss of the air hit your chest. He tossed the garment aside. He squatted, face level with the zipper of your jeans. His big hands unbuttoned the button, slid the zipper down. His touch was sure, unhurried. His evol lifted you just off the ground so that he could tug the jeans down your legs. It was no easy task, considering their dampness from the rain, but he managed it with some measure of grace. One leg, and then the other. Caleb had lifted you like this countless times before, but it struck you, as you were left in nothing but your bra and underwear, suspended a few inches in the air, Caleb crouched below you, just how powerful he really was. The man who had you suspended in the air with the sheer power of his mind was knelt before you, adhering to your whims. Stripping you at your behest. His clothes and hair were still dripping wet. His evol set you to your feet, and Caleb stood back up. You looked up at him, feeling more sure that he would go along with what you wanted, now. He always would.

“I want you to give me a bath.”

Caleb said nothing, at first. This was a face of his that you recognized. A sort of eerie stillness about him, a barely repressed anger – or maybe eagerness – burning him up, just under his skin. Like the water would evaporate off of him because of it. The room had become so dark for the storm that you could hardly tell the state of his eyes. In the low light, their usual purple almost looked black.

“Okay, baby.”

Caleb stood next to you, and his big hand came up to grip the back of your neck. Somehow, even with the state he was in, his skin was still warm. He applied a little pressure, guiding you forward towards the bathroom, wordlessly. You complied, the feeling of his casual dominance making wetness collect between your legs. Even when he was complying with what you wanted, he was still somehow in control. You went into the little bathroom, and he stepped in behind you, shutting the door. It was much similar to the bedroom – spartan, save for Caleb’s toiletries. The tiling on the wall was a pea-flower blue. It reflected distorted images of your own face back at you as you looked. Caleb gestured in front of you. You followed his finger with your eyes.

“Sit.”

You sat. The porcelain of the toilet was cold on your bare skin, but you didn’t complain. Caleb shed himself of his clothes under your gaze, leaving him only in his boxers and necklace. His muscular thighs flexed as he moved, imbued with the natural grace that only athletes could boast of. He knelt in front of the tub, right next to your knees, and turned the knob, running the water over his hand. When he deemed it acceptable, he plugged it up, and let it run. The sound of the running water echoed loudly in the small room. He turned towards you, still squatting. He lifted his hands towards your chest, and paused, as if seeking your permission. You put a foot on one of his big thighs. It was a stark contrast to the cold floor. 

“Are you going to give me a bath in my underwear?”

Caleb laughed softly, sounding in between exasperation and arousal. His hands resumed their mission, coming round your torso to unhook your bra. It took him a few tries, but it finally came free, and he slipped it from your arms, setting it aside. He shuffled backwards just slightly, taking your foot from off of his thigh with his hand. You knew him well enough, after all these years, to understand his intention. You stood, so he could access your underwear. For the third time that day, Caleb’s face was level with your groin. You looked down at him, and he up at you. He held your gaze as he hooked his fingers into your underwear, and pulled them from your hips, down your legs. You kicked them aside when they reached the floor. Still, Caleb didn’t look where he could have looked. Instead, he licked a flat stripe over your right hip bone, then your left. His tongue was warm, wet. He lapped at the place below your navel, at the junction where your hips met your legs. Further he went, slipping his tongue in between the natural fold of your thigh, not quite in between your legs, but enough that you could feel his breath hot against your sex. The places where his tongue left saliva behind on your skin felt cool against the air. You felt your abdomen clench, and your hand went for his soft hair. It was still soaked from the rain. You yanked at it, which earned you a little moan from your brother. You weren’t sure if you were directing him towards you, or away. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted – what you needed from him. He pressed his lips harder against your stomach, and then loudly blew a raspberry there. It tickled terribly, and you pushed back against his head in retaliation, trying to keep from laughing by pressing your lips together. He smiled up at you.

“I thought you wanted me to give you a bath?”

Caleb moved backwards from you as he spoke, and flicked a finger. You were in the air again, in the gentle net of his evol. It made a low hum every time it appeared, like a predator that was warning a lesser creature of its presence. He lifted you into the tub, into the warm water, and then shut off the faucet, his evol leaving little red flecks of its traces behind before disappearing entirely.  Your knees peeked just out of the water as you bent them up. It was blessedly warm, compared to the chill of the air from the rain. Your shivering finally began to subside as you sunk deeper into the water. You looked up at Caleb, who had taken up residence on the edge of the tub. He was reaching for a loofah that was hanging on the wall. It was a bright, pepto-bismol pink. You poked his thigh with an accusatory finger, remembering his licking.

“What are you, a dog?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. He was squeezing a copious amount of his own soap onto the loofah. It was unscented – it just smelled clean. The same way Caleb always smelled. The idea that you were going to smell like him brought you a sick sense of satisfaction. Even under the water, you could still feel the places where his tongue had touched your skin. He began to scrub away at the sensation with the loofah, starting just below your neck. Suds pooled in the little wells of your collarbones. You resisted the natural urge to cover yourself with your hands. Caleb had certainly seen you naked many times before – and even now, you wanted him to see you naked. You wanted him to see you differently. You turned your body more in his direction, giving him easier access.

“Well, you’ve collared me, at least.”

Caleb spoke through an exhale of a breath, sounding strained. His necklace clinked as he moved to wash you, like it was proving his words. He lifted your arms, washed you underneath your armpits. You held them up for him. It tickled, just a little. When he let down your arms, you looked into his face.

“So you’ll never run away from me?”

Caleb titled his head, smiling. The downturn of his eyes seemed even softer in the yellow of the overhead light. The loofah went over your breasts, under them, between them. You wished he would wash you with his bare hands, instead of the soapy barrier. He moved down to your stomach. You watched the little trail of bubbles it left behind as he went.

“Even if your dog is bad sometimes, he’ll never leave you,” his hand drifted between your legs. He scrubbed. Up, down. Up, down. You wanted him to slip his fingers inside of you under the water.

 “Starve him, beat him within an inch of his life…nothing could take him from your side.”

Caleb started on your legs. He washed your thighs, and leaned down so that he could scrub behind your knees. He slipped his free hand behind there, after the loofah, thoughtfully. He looked at the suds on his hand. Then, he moved to your calves. You lifted your legs for him, to make it easier.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Caleb. You do enough of that to yourself, already.”

Caleb grasped your foot in one of his big hands. Rather than the loofah, he used the residual bubbles on his hand to scrub it, top to bottom. Your foot jerked reflexively, but he kept it still in his firm grip. He grinned at you as he went for your other foot, showing you his one crooked canine again. 

“Do you remember what Chaucer said about those with heads of glass?”

He repeated the motions on your other foot. You tried to recall what Chaucer said, what he wrote, instead of thinking of Caleb sinking his teeth into the meat of your calf. You pulled it from your dregs. The hot water was beginning to make your mind feel sluggish.

“What, do I need to be aware of ‘hostile stones that pass?’ Will it be you who throws them?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Of course not. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

His job. Of course. As your brother. The air left your lungs like wind from small sails. It was the same thing he had been saying since you were kids. Your memories of being adopted with Caleb seemed to be some of your first. Before that, it was a deep, black quagmire. Your eyes grazed the length of his right arm, the one he was using to wash you. There was a big, spidering scar at the base of his shoulder. The tendrils of it reached out against his skin, stopping at the base of his deltoid. You hated that scar. You were the reason for it. When you were teenagers, you had gotten into some kind of stupid argument with Caleb after school. It was something so meaningless that you couldn’t remember what it was about, anymore. You had stormed off, and in your irritation, walked right into a busy street. You hadn’t seen the light change. You didn’t even see the truck – but Caleb did. Back then, he had yet to achieve full control of his evol. He pushed you out of the way, and his body took the brunt of the force, the rest absorbed by his control on gravity. He was hospitalized for weeks, but had still remained sun-shinier than ever. You had escaped with only a few scrapes. He constantly had visitors – friends, admirers – even strangers seemed to flock to his natural glow. You heard the whispers. They couldn’t understand why he would jeopardize his flawless participation in sports, his future, his extracurriculars, all for his gloomy little sister. 

Well, you didn’t understand either. Caleb had recovered in record time, pushing himself to the limits in physical rehabilitation, sweat beaded on his brow, face unable to hide the exertion and pain. He never told you the extent of the injury. You had only heard the truth of it from Zayne, whose parents worked for the same hospital at the time. He was there frequently, and saw Caleb’s struggle. In reality, he had experienced major damage to the nerves in his arm – primarily the median nerve. While he had recovered the use of it entirely, the majority of his sensation in his right hand was forever lost to him. Caleb paused his scrubbing.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, you know.”

You slid your wet hands up his arm, leaning up from where you were sitting in the bath, until you were caressing the thickest point of the scar on his shoulder. Caleb’s body tensed, then relaxed. His broad chest rose and fell evenly with his breaths. You pressed down on the scar. Caleb grunted, though his face betrayed nothing.

“Liar,” you whispered.

It should have been you.

Caleb only smiled, and picked up your hand from his scar by your wrist. He pressed a kiss to the inside of it, before returning it to you. Your skin prickled in the wake of his touch.

“Time to get out.” 

You eyed Caleb. His hair, which had been wet from the rain, was beginning to frizz up from the humidity of the bathroom. You held up your index finger, and let some water from it drip on to his knee. 

“What about you?”

Caleb blinked.

“I’ll shower after.”

Somehow, you felt that if you let this moment slip between you, it would be lost to you forever, like the water in your fingers. You reached for the plug, and uncorked it, letting the water begin to drain. You turned back to Caleb.

“Let’s shower together.”

Caleb’s eyes flickered with something imperceptible. He watched the water swirl down, down, down into the drain, revealing more of your wet body to the cool air. 

“If I say yes,”

His eyes returned to you, sitting in the now empty tub. They were harder than before, unreadable.

“Will you tell me I’m the only person you do this kind of thing with?” 

You stood from the now empty bath, and reached for the knobs.

“Do you think there are other men who I let give me baths?”

You had been with other men. Men who looked like Caleb, granted. They didn’t smell like him, or act like him. But when they were inside of you, you could imagine it was your Caleb, loving you the way you wanted him to. Sort of. 

Caleb’s evol beat you to the knobs, gently lifting you out of the way of the shower spray, so you were floating just above it. The air was warmer, higher up. He smiled up at you like you were a pretty bird, flying above him.

“I don’t want to think about you with other men. Ever.”

Caleb stood up from the side of the tub. You watched, suspended naked in the air, as he peeled his boxers from his body. Even while soft, he looked big. He had a nice dick. A really nice dick. You wanted to put it in your mouth. He stepped over the edge of the tub, and pulled the curtain shut behind him. Satisfied, he directed your body down into the shower spray in front of him, so it was hitting your back. He held the backs of your arms gently as you came down, ensuring you wouldn’t slip. The water hitting your back rewarmed you, and wet some of your hair. You were suddenly acutely aware that Caleb was close. Very close. In the small space of the shower, he seemed even bigger than ever. 

“When did you get so big?” you blurted, gripping at his biceps with both hands. Caleb merely laughed, and lifted his arms for you to have better access to grope him. Your hands slipped easily from his biceps to his triceps, tracing the visible outline with your fingers. He sounded amused by your question. Or was it wry? It was hard to tell with Caleb.

“Around highschool, which is about the same time you stopped hugging me as much, and crawlin’ into my bed at night to chase away your nightmares.”

Caleb caught your hands as they moved from his triceps to his chest, and put them down gently by your sides.

“If you keep feelin’ me up like that, I won’t be able to focus on washing you or me.” 

You could feel the heat from him as his cock hardened between you, against your stomach and lower abdomen. If you had taken a single step forward, it would have been pressed against you. It was impossible not to look. You looked down, admiring it, how far it reached up the span of your abdomen. The thick vein on the side. Caleb let you look.

He reached for the soap, but you took it from his hands. 

“Let me do it.”

You squeezed a generous amount of soap into your hands, rubbing them together. You could have used the clean wash cloth that was hanging there, clearly intended for Caleb – but you didn’t. You lathered it between your fingers, instead. You had expected him to deny you, but Caleb said nothing. He just looked at you with dark eyes, watching your hands and face. You started with his collarbones, as he had you. Tracing them, then the dip in his clavicle, pressing there with your fingertip. You were close enough that you could hear the breaths he took through his nose, even over the sound of the shower. You moved down to his pecs, massaging them experimentally. He made a sound that seemed, to your ears, like a release of tension. Then came the scar on his right arm. You massaged your fingers into it, along its spindles and spires, and Caleb’s breaths stuttered and caught, though he made no move to stop you. The scar was raised and sort of tough, like it had all kinds of angry knots lurking below the surface. There was a part of you that wanted him to hurt – that wanted to punish him for sacrificing himself for you. You punished yourself, by extension. He was your brother. As much yourself as you were. You looked into his lovely, purple eyes. They were blown wide with the breadth of his pupils. 

“Does it hurt?” 

You hardly heard your own voice over the sound of the water. 

“Yeah,” Caleb breathed.

“But it’s you. So it feels good, too.”

His voice was rough, the end of the statement sounding like an admission of guilt. You looked down. Caleb’s cock was twitching and flushed, a pretty red. You released your hold on his scar, and washed his abs, instead. Your hands rolled over them. His physique was ridiculous – and you knew all too well the limits he pushed himself to maintain it. Strength and beauty had a price, as was the way of all things. His skin twitched under your touch. Down you went, until your hands were flush with his v-line, just above his dick. You avoided it, and instead knelt before him, massaging the soap into one of his meaty thighs. You looked up.

Caleb was making that face again. That anger, eagerness. 

You could see the precum leaking from his cock, as it was flush with your face. Instead of putting your mouth around it like you wanted to, you washed his calf, and then the top of his foot. You repeated the same routine on the other side, but stayed kneeling. You peered up at him. The water pounded your back, and soaked your hair. It was falling as such that it kept plugging up your nostrils, making it hard to breathe. Nearly as soon as the thought had crossed your mind, Caleb was helping you to your feet by your forearms. Or rather, he picked you up by your forearms, and switched your positions, lifting you like you were a doll, so that he was standing with his back to the water, and you stood facing him. 

“If you stay down there, you’ll drown,” he said, hoarsely. 

You stared at him. You had practically been offering to suck him off then and there. He rinsed the soap from his body with military efficiency, like his dick wasn’t hanging heavily between his legs. 

“All finished?”

You nodded, dumbly. What else could you do? Even while the both of you were stark naked, it was just as it had always been. Caleb, hard around you, from touching you. Both of you ignoring it. Just two bodies. Not two feelings. Nothing more than a response to stimuli. Caleb shut off the shower, and the faucet pin echoed loudly in the now quiet room. He opened the curtain. You stepped out first, and Caleb was quick to follow. He handed you a towel from the rack, and then rubbed one on himself, his hair. You watched, enraptured, as he adjusted his dick so that he could wrap the towel around his waist. Seemingly satisfied, he looked up at you.

You dried yourself quickly, as if your staring was somehow the worst offense that had occurred between you. Your normal shower routine wasn’t exactly at the forefront of your mind. The heat began to feel too much. You quit the bathroom quickly, and were hit instantly by the comparatively cool air of Caleb’s room. You had spent a long while in the hot water, and your head pounded with the rapid change in temperature. Your feet felt unsteady, and you took an unsure step forward, which nearly sent you curling into yourself onto your knees for the headrush. But Caleb was behind you, anticipating your needs before you even knew them yourself, like always.

“Whoa there. Don’t go anywhere on me, now.”

You leaned back into his broad chest. He was still damp, solid and unwavering.

“Caleb,” you breathed. It was somehow helpful just to say his name. It cooled the heated air from your mouth.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

The towel, no longer supported by your hand, dropped from your body. You felt Caleb begin to reach for it, but you turned around, and pressed yourself to him instead. His body was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. He never stopped radiating an otherworldly heat, even when it was freezing outside. Your tits squished against his lower chest, your face turned to the side, near his heart. It pattered a rhythm, strong and quick. You wondered how big the heart of such a large man really was. You made a fist against the place where his heart lived. Surely, the size couldn’t compare. You were strangely jealous of the thing that pumped his life through him, all day, every day. You wanted to be just as close, all of the time. The necklace you had given him had to do it in your place. You were jealous of the piece of metal, too. Caleb’s hands hovered for a moment, as if unsure, and then rubbed up and down your bare back, the sound of skin against skin loud to your ears. 

“I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool when you’re like this, pips.”

Caleb’s voice sounded calculated, soft. Like there was more to what he was saying than just his words. He squeezed your hips, thumbs digging in. In the time you had been against him, you felt him harden underneath your stomach all over again through his towel. You wrapped your arms around him, and dragged your nails over the skin of his back, up and down. 

“What if I don’t want you to keep it? Maybe I want you to lose control.”

Caleb hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your nails on his back. His body pressed harder against yours, grinding his cock against the soft skin of your stomach through his towel. He leaned down, so that his lips were nearly against your ear. His teeth grazed your earlobe.

“Use your words, then. Say, ‘Caleb, I want you to lose control.’”

Gooseflesh erupted all over your body, under Caleb’s fingers. You licked your dry lips with your tongue, trying to find the saliva to wet your words. The truth came to you with some difficulty. 

“Caleb, I…want you to lose control.”

That was all it took. Caleb dropped the towel from his hips instantly, and he picked you up, gripping your ass. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, and clung to him. You half expected him to take you to the bed – to literally anywhere else – but his fingers were grazing between your legs as you held on to him, your position leaving you just the right amount of open for him. 

“Better hold on tight,” he teased, though you knew there wasn’t a chance of him dropping you, between his strength and his evol. Just one finger teased your slit, then pressed you open, wasting no time in going knuckle deep inside of you. His finger was thick and long, and filled you up in a different kind of way than your own. Your body clenched around it of its own accord.

“Shi-iit, you’re so wet. Is this all cause of me?”

He didn’t seem to care whether or not you answered – maybe because he already knew the truth. Another finger joined the first not long after, and he made scissoring motions between moving them in and out, like he was trying to do extra work to stretch you open. Your thighs began to shudder with the effort of holding on to him. Caleb seemed to sense your distress, because he walked you effortlessly to his bed, and leaned down so that he could deposit you there on your back. He stood between your open legs at the edge of the bed.

It was the first time you had seen his face since you had put your body against his. He had the look of a man who was teetering on the edge, who had just gotten something he had been waiting for for a long, long time. His fingers were still inside of you, and he added a third, leaning down to spit in between your legs to make the glide easier. You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly alarmed by the situation. The other men in the house were definitely home, and these walls were definitely thin. Nevermind that they called you his little sister. Caleb pulled your hand away from your mouth by your wrist. His fingers inside of you didn’t relent.

“Nah, none of that. Be a good girl and let me hear you. Talk to me.”

He leaned over you, fingers still working you impossibly open. You pushed against his chest, which did absolutely nothing to dislodge him.

“Caleb,” you hissed, “the walls — what if someone hears–” 

“They’re insulated. No one will hear, princess.”

His fingers curled inside you. You dug your nails into his chest, and they grazed over the scar on his right arm. He flinched, almost imperceptibly. 

“Liar,” you breathed.

Caleb hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“You can call me whatever you want,” his free hand squeezed your tit roughly, rolling it between his palm. He pinched your nipple between two fingers, tugging on it. The other received the same not-so-delicate treatment. 

“Liar, Stubborn Caleb, Dummy Caleb,” his teeth sank into your neck, for just a moment. He licked at it, speaking against your skin, close to your ear.

“...big brother. It doesn’t matter. I’m the one who’s fucking you, no matter what you call me.”

You clenched around his fingers, and wished it was his cock. You felt him smile against your neck. He leaned up, and withdrew his fingers, slowly. You ached, suddenly empty of him. Above you, in between your open legs, he was the picture of masculinity. A sheen of sweat coated him, and his dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Between his legs, his cock hung hard and heavy. You sat up, feeling it was unfair that he was the only one who had touched you. You raked your fingers down his chest and abs, and wrapped both hands around his cock, smiling up at him. He bucked into your hands, a low whine coming from his throat. He threaded a hand through your hair, pulling on it, just enough to hurt.

“Fuck, your lil’ hands look so cute wrapped around my cock like that. I want to take a picture. Can I take a picture? Just for me, pips.” 

Had it been anyone else – anyone from your past – you would have instantly said no. But Caleb had never done anything to break your trust. He could be a liar, but not like this. His lilac eyes were big and honest, imploring. You nodded.

“Okay, Caleb. Just for you.” 

A bright smile erupted over his face, and his dick twitched in your hands. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. So good to me, huh?”

His evol brought his phone to his hands from the nightstand, and he made quick work of taking a photo, lining up his phone at the perfect angle to capture both of your hands wrapped around his leaking cock. He stared at it. 

“I’m gonna cum just from this,” he grumbled, and tossed his phone aside. You twisted your hands around him, and he pulled your hands away from his dick in response. He held you by your forearms, and pulled you close, leaning down so that he could speak into your face. 

“Don’t do that, baby. Be a good girl so Caleb can fuck you, yeah? Lay down. I want to see your pretty face while I’m inside of you.”

You complied, scooting backwards until you were lying back against one of Caleb’s pillows, fully on the bed now. You watched with interest as he opened the bedside table drawer and produced a bottle of lube. It was unopened, and he tore the plastic off of the top with his teeth. He spit the plastic out of his mouth onto the floor. You snickered, and he grinned at you. You pointed to the lube.

“Going through so much lube that you just bought a new bottle?” 

Caleb rolled his eyes at you, squeezing a small amount directly onto his cock. 

“No. I bought this for us. Just in case. No one else has ever touched me but you.”

He fisted his cock roughly in his hand, like he hadn’t just casually revealed that information to you. You gaped at him. Not only had he never been with anyone else, but he had purchased lube in preparation for the day you actually had sex. Your brother, who wasn’t your brother. He had been anticipating it – or at least been hopeful.

“No one else? Are you serious? But you have people practically hanging off of you constantly. I thought for sure…” 

Caleb shrugged, and crawled over you on the bed. It creaked under his weight as he nestled himself between your thighs, holding himself over your face. His necklace dangled between you.

“So? I don’t want anyone else wrapped around my cock but you. It makes me happy that you’re jealous, though.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not jealous,” you lied. Of course, you both knew it was a lie. Caleb smiled a knowing smile. He pushed down on his cock with his index finger and thumb, and lined himself up against you. 

“Not jealous?” He sounded smug, in the way that only men with big dicks could. His cock rubbed against you, slipping wetly between your legs, not fucking you. The lube made the sounds even wetter, more lewd. 

“No – because you’re my b–” you stopped yourself. Something in between the words big brother and boyfriend was about to fall out of your mouth. Caleb pushed the head of his cock inside of you, and nothing else. You tried to lift your hips into him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Your what? Your…b-b-boyfriend? Orrr…” Two of Caleb’s big fingers took the necklace that was hanging in your face and pushed it past your lips, into your mouth. He leaned down on his forearms, so that his whole body covered yours. His voice took on the same edge he used to tease you when you were kids.

“Your big brother? Is that what you were gonna say, baby?” 

As he spoke, he snapped his hips up inside of you, bottoming out. Between the feeling of him filling you up and his necklace in your mouth, it was impossible for you to answer. You could only breathe around the metal, trying to get used to the feeling of accommodating his size. He stroked your side with his hand, squeezing your tits, rolling over your ribcage. His cock twitched inside you, again and again and again. You whined. Caleb immediately began to move. 

It was like he couldn’t help but set a punishing pace, hips snapping into yours with loud smacks that could definitely be heard through the thin walls. Your body was moved up and down against the mattress with the force of it. He fucked you open, the pleasure arching out from between your thighs, all the way into the tops of your feet. Caleb growled a command into your ear.

“Open your mouth.” 

You did so, the dog tag still inside. He lifted his head, and made a motion with his jaw. He let spit drip into your mouth from his own, covering the necklace, wetting your insides with himself. You sucked on it.

“Good girl. You take everything I give you so well. Makes me wanna stuff up all of your holes. Fuck.”

Caleb pulled the necklace from your mouth, and tossed it behind his back. He replaced it with his mouth on yours, in something that was hardly a kiss and more like a close exchange of spit. He licked your tongue, pushing his against your own, sucked at your teeth. His cock hit you in a way that was just right, and his fingers moved in between your legs, encouraging you towards release with a focus on your pleasure. You moaned into his mouth, earlier worries about disturbing the other boys forgotten. He swallowed your sounds up with his mouth, encouraging you.

“I know baby, I know. C’mon, you can do – it.”

As his hand worked you, Caleb leaned up, pulling one of your feet towards him. He licked from the bottom of your sole to your toes, sucking them into his mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, filthy, and wet. You were so lost in him that the combination of his hands and mouth all over you crested you over the edge, and you were cumming around his cock. Your voice was calling his name, and Caleb rocked into you harder, holding your legs open below your knees to give him better access. His sweat dripped onto your chest.

“You want my cum? Ask me for it. Say ‘Pleeease.”

You hardly had words. Finding ‘please' seemed a herculean task.

“Please–”

Caleb paused his movements, stilling completely with just the tip inside of you. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

“Please, what?”  

He didn’t sound much more composed than you were. You gave it your last bit of energy.

“Please, Caleb!”

Caleb grunted, and slammed his hips back into yours, all the way inside of you again. The sound of you begging for him seemed to push him over the edge.

“There you go. Shit, take it–”

You felt him spill inside of you, and he clasped his strong arms around your body behind your back, putting his full weight on you as he came. He kissed your face sloppily, missing your lips. He licked at the tears in the corners of your eyes, and kissed you there, lips dragging across your face. You stayed there for a time, both blissfully catching the breath you had lost between you, enjoying the newfound closeness.

You laid your head on Caleb’s sweaty chest, listening to the slowing beat of his heart. The sound itself seemed devotional, under your ear. He pressed a kiss to the top of your scalp, and inhaled. You spread a hand over his taut abdomen, and it shuddered under your touch. He was tan from the summer, and had a cute tan line from his shorts. He must have started running shirtless when it got too hot. You petted the soft hair of his happy trail. It was the same dark color as his hair. You watched his cock. It was still hard, somehow, and twitched with interest under your attention. You poked it with an accusatory finger.

“I didn’t know you were into feet.”

Caleb laughed, a bright, happy sound that shook his chest, making your head move up and down with his movement.

“I’m not, really. I’m into you. I’d lick any part of you – the bottoms of your feet, your asshole, whatever.”

You paused your poking. The heat that had only just begun to die down from your skin rose back up, against your will. Did he hear himself?

“Caleb.”

He adjusted his legs, so one knee was bent up, comfortably. The room smelled like him, like sex with him. It put you deeply at ease. 

“What? I’m dead serious.”

He ruffled his hand through your hair, exposing your scalp to the cool air, lifting your hair so that some of the heat could release from it. You leaned into his gentle touch. His voice became softer, imploring.

“Do you wanna come to a party tonight, pips?”

You turned towards him, supporting yourself with a hand propped up on his chest. His handsome face was still flushed with exertion, lips extra pink. Adoration was unabashedly clear in his eyes. You cocked your head at him, wary. You didn’t mind a party, but a frat party was a whole other animal. 

“What kind of party?”

Caleb’s eyes flicked down to your lips, roving over your face. He pressed a kiss to your lips, licked them. Then the sides of your mouth, your temples. He pulled away to answer. His lips shone wetly.

“A toga party. I know it’s not usually your thing, buuut you might have fun with me, right? I’m not gonna drink, so you can get lit, and I’ll take care of you, yeah?” 

You stared at him. You just knew he was going to wear a sheet as a toga, and that his hat, which followed him everywhere, was going to accompany it. You put a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your smile at the image. Caleb grinned, too, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“Can I take that cute smile as a yes?”

You sat up, feeling the dried sweat on your body. Caleb’s cum was still inside of you. You felt it leak onto the sheets as you sat up. You needed a shower, desperately. Caleb, clearly upset at the loss of contact, put his hand on your knee. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles.

“Fine. But we have to shower again. Separately.” 

Caleb nodded sagely, stroking an imaginary beard.

“Right, right. If we showered together again, I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t even be able to walk to the car.”

You smacked his firm bicep, which only made him grin wider in response. 

“Feisty girl, aren’t you?”

Caleb let you shower first – alone, this time. Counting the one you had taken before getting on the train this morning, this was your third shower today. Maybe some kind of new record. Of course, there was the fact that you had sex with Caleb. You watched your reflection in the mirror as you dried your hair. You had sex with Caleb. Not only that, but he had only ever had sex with you. You had fully expected him to have experience with other people – he was wildly popular, after all. You wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest. A weight was lifted, in a sense. But the same issue still nagged at you – even now, you didn’t know where you stood. Were you attending this party as his sister, or his girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned it. You needed to know how to act, but couldn’t quite find the words with which to ask right after having him balls deep inside of you. You resisted the urge to bang your head against the mirror. Barely.

You fixed your face as you liked, with a little something extra for the party, and shoved your things back into your toiletry bag, which Caleb had diligently brought into the bathroom while you were showering, along with an extra toothbrush. Feeling significantly more re-energized with clean hair and a fresh face, you exited the bathroom with a new towel wrapped about your torso. Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, still completely naked, fiddling with something on his phone. He looked up as you came out, and smiled. 

“Pretty as a picture.”

You smiled back, making a dismissive gesture at him. You felt strangely shy now that you looked at him, knowing he had been inside of you. Caleb raised a brow at you, and stood, stalking towards you with purpose. He pulled the towel from your body, despite your attempt to yank it back. He pressed on your lower back and stomach, essentially folding you in half. You gripped the back of your thighs, deeply confused. Caleb knelt behind you, and pushed his face into your pussy, licking you deeply from behind. His tongue fucked into you without warning, and you yelped.

“Caleb–!”

But as soon as you spoke, he was standing again, and righted you into a standing position, too. He wrapped your towel back around you, like nothing had just happened.

You stared at him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking smug.

“Sorry. I just wanted a taste before we go.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the restroom. You stared at the door long after he was gone, trying to get ahold of yourself. Instead of trying to dwell on the feeling of his tongue inside of you, or the fact that this was your reality now, you crossed the room to where Caleb had put your suitcase near his closet.

You rifled through what you had brought. First, a pair of underwear that your ass wouldn’t totally fall out of in your skirt. The skirt was shorter than usual, but Caleb had mentioned the party briefly in passing, so you had included it, just in case. A pair of thigh high socks. A little black and white corset top – comfortable, but cute, with long sleeves so you felt less exposed. No bra necessary. A bag you could strap across your back without having to worry about it. The last part was the hardest. A pair of knee high docs. They were cute, but ridiculously hard to get on and off. You spent some time unlacing them, then lacing them back onto your legs, while Caleb banged around in the shower. You wouldn’t normally wear shoes inside, but the carpet would survive, just this once. 

When you looked up from your shoes, something on Caleb’s desk caught your eye, illuminated by his little yellow lamp. It was an unassuming notebook. You stood, and made your way to the desk. It occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t pry – but he had left it out, unlabeled. You opened it to a random page. It was a list in Caleb’s boyish scrawl. It was labeled simply: Wants. You read down the list. It was mostly mundane items, some of them crossed out. As it went on, a sense of understanding dawned on you. These were things you had mentioned to Caleb that you wanted or needed. Some he had already gifted to you, some he clearly planned to. The most recent was that expensive hair dryer you wanted – the one with the curling function. You had mentioned it to him in passing, not because you wanted him to buy it for you – you had just been talking. The thing was insanely expensive. He had gifted it to you last month, and you had brought it with you to visit this time. It was crossed out on the list. Your heart did a strange flip in your chest, like it was trying to go live where your stomach dwelled. 

You turned the page. There was this month’s calendar, with notes scrawled on each day. It was very clearly your schedule, though you couldn’t recall ever sharing it with Caleb in such detail. There were notes scribbled on nearly every day – things like ‘ tutors that red-head in French’ and ‘Civil Procedures lecture @10:30AM.’ 

You were open with Caleb, sure. But you definitely hadn’t told him all of this. You didn’t have long to ponder, though, because the sound of Caleb cutting off the hair dryer interrupted your thoughts. You flipped the notebook shut, and flung yourself back into a sitting position on Caleb’s bed, legs hanging off the side. Caleb came out, bringing a rush of warm, wet air with him. He peered at you curiously, still in nothing but a towel. You weren’t sure you had ever seen Caleb naked so much in your life as you had in the last twenty-four hours.

“Whatcha up to, pipsqueak?” 

You shook your head, kicking your boots back and forth.

“Nothing.”

Definitely not looking through the book he clearly used to keep tabs on your every move, just casually sitting atop his desk.

Nope.

Caleb gave you an incredulous look.

“Oookay.” 

Clearly, he didn’t believe you – but he didn’t pry, either. Caleb padded towards his chest of drawers, and dug around for boxers, socks, and shorts. You watched the muscles of his back slide under his skin as he did so, admiring how one muscle connected to another. He had great lats – like beautiful wings when he stretched his arms out. You wanted to bite him. Caleb was stepping into his clothes, not looking at you while he spoke.

“You look way too fucking hot. I’m not lookin’ at you before I get these on, because if I do, I’ll fuck you again. And I won’t want anyone else to see you like this, either. I mean, I still kind of don’t, but I also want everyone to know how hot my girl is.” 

Caleb’s clearly conflicted train of thought made a laugh bubble up from your chest. You tried to parse the latter half of his statement – his girl. Did that mean you were attending the party tonight in the role of his girlfriend? It almost sounded like it. You secretly hoped that was the case, as it usually was at social gatherings like this. It helped keep people off of him – sort of. 

He turned back to you, clearly half-hard in his shorts. He adjusted his dick while looking into your face. 

“Okay. Now that we’ve established that, want to help me with my toga?” 

You raised a brow at him.

“You actually have a toga?”

Caleb rummaged through his bottom drawer, and produced a white sheet, which he held up to you triumphantly, like he was presenting you with the ghost of a kill he had made for tonight’s dinner. 

“Totally.” 

Getting Caleb into the ‘toga’ was an ordeal in its own right. You ended up cinching it around the waist with one of his flight belts, and clasped it with one of your hair clips at the shoulder, to give it the toga look. The clip was a cute one, with little apples on it. Caleb sported this strange assortment of items proudly, crowned with his black ball cap, facing forward this time. On anyone else, it would have been purely goofy. But for Caleb, who had quite literally everything going for him, he only managed to look more charming and handsome. He could have worn a sack and still looked hot – and for all intents and purposes, he basically was. You finally made it back down the stairs with Caleb, who was busy looking through the fridge. 

“You should eat something before we go, since you’re going to drink. Want me to make you something?” 

Caleb shut the fridge, and motioned to the stove. The image of him cooking while in the makeshift toga drifted through your mind, and you had to control your face to keep from laughing. 

“That’s okay. Do you have a protein bar or something? I don’t want to feel all bloated before we go. What about you?”

Caleb nodded, and turned towards the pantry instead. There was a lot of rustling, but you couldn’t see what he was looking for because of how broad his back was. It covered the entirety of the damn pantry. He turned back to you, protein bar in hand. It was suspiciously cute and pink – definitely not the kind he usually ate. You had a sneaking suspicion it was something he had purchased for your benefit. 

“I ate while you were in the shower, earlier. Plus, I’m not the one who’ll be drinking.”

You took the bar from him, and tore it open. Some sort of inoffensive chocolate flavor, with sprinkles. Really not bad for a protein bar, all things considered. It would do for a pre-game snack. You made quick work of it under Caleb’s watchful eye, who seemingly had nothing better to do than watch you eat with an elbow propped up on the counter. He took the wrapper from you when you were done and trashed it. Satisfied that you had consumed something, Caleb turned towards the rest of the house, and took in a great inhale of air.

“GIDEON! LIAM! LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOO!”

His voice boomed through the building. You had almost never heard him project like that. It was kind of impressive – and kind of annoying, in the way only your big brother’s voice could be. You wondered where the hell he got the energy to be on ten all of the time. Two sets of heavy footsteps came tromping down the stairs, and Liam and Gideon appeared before Caleb, in equally ridiculous makeshift togas. They looked like the world’s silliest attendees to the Roman Forum, but in a sexy way.

The three men walked ahead of you into the entryway, and put on their shoes. Caleb was, of course, wearing his combat boots to complete the look. He patted the pockets of the shorts he was wearing underneath the sheet, feeling around to ensure he had his phone and keys. 

“Liam,” Caleb called,

“You drive.” 

Liam simply nodded, and he and Gideon elbowed each other to get out of the door first, bickering under their breaths. Caleb slipped his fingers through yours, and he led you from the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Liam drove a Jeep, much like the one Caleb had left at home for you to drive. It was technically his car, but you loved it so much that he had given it to you to use while he was away at college. He had spent years tinkering with that thing – and he had taught you to drive in it too, ensuring you could drive a manual. Even with all the time he had been away, it still smelled like him. When you couldn’t sleep at night, Caleb would take you for long drives, until you no longer recognized the roads, and the movement of the car lulled you to sleep. You’d wake up back in your bed, knowing Caleb must have carried you there. 

Caleb opened the back door of the car for you, letting you get in first. He got in after you. It was almost funny to see such a big guy clamber into the little space. Liam sat in the driver’s seat, and Gideon had shotgun. He turned back to you, and waved his phone in your direction, which was plugged into the USB port. 

“Any requests for the DJ?”

You thought back to what you and Caleb had been listening to recently. He was big into Nine Inch Nails. So were you. When he was a teenager, you would sit in his lap and listen, one headphone in your ear, one in his, in his room. The lyrics made you feel like you were getting away with something you shouldn’t, Caleb’s head bobbing over your shoulder, bouncing you up and down on his lap with his knee, in time with the music.

“Can you put on ‘Discipline?’ It’s Nine Inch Nails.”

Gideon nodded his assent. He started the song up. Teenaged Caleb’s words echoed in your head. 

The main synth is made mostly from a Vostok semi-modular eurotrack synth setup...but basically, it’s just guitars and synths through effects.

Trent Reznor’s voice cut through the air like little blades, supported by the crunch of the bass.

Am I

Am I still tough enough?

Caleb nudged you with his shoulder, and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“Hey. Sit in my lap instead.” 

You glanced at Gideon and Liam, who were talking over the music heatedly about something. You gestured to them with your body. It was dark in the car, but still.

Feels like I’m wearin’ down, down, down, down, down

“What about–”

Caleb shook his head, interrupting you.

“They don’t care. C’mon, pips. It’s a super short drive down this road. You used to love sittin’ in my lap when you were a kid.”

'They don’t care,’ sounded more like 'They already know what I’m up to.' You eyed Caleb warily for a moment. He gave you an innocent look, complete with puppy eyes. You unbuckled your seatbelt, and slid into his lap, learning against the warmth of his broad chest. The stupid sheet was kind of in the way. Caleb exhaled hotly against your ear, reclining to make it easier for you to sit on him.

Is my viciousness

Losing ground, ground, ground, ground, ground?

“Yeah, there you go, baby. Perfect.”

Caleb’s hands slipped up your thighs, rubbing up and down over your bare skin. Liam guided the car from the drive, and started down the road. The movement jostled you on top of Caleb, and he gripped at the flesh of your thighs, keeping you in place. You felt his dick twitch to life underneath you, through your underwear. One of his hands slipped further up your thigh, under your skirt. The other tugged your skirt down, so that his hand was hidden from view. Caleb’s hand touched you over your underwear, finger just gently gliding between your legs over the fabric, like an afterthought.

Am I taking too much?

“Gideon,” he called over your shoulder.

“Did you get the stuff for the drinks?”

Gideon tilted his head back to catch what Caleb was saying. You tensed up, but Caleb didn’t move his hand at all. Instead, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. He felt how wet you were, sliding between you.

Did I cross the line, line, line?

“Yeah, man. It’s in the back. Everything you asked for.” 

Caleb leaned further over your shoulder to speak.

“You’re the GOAT. Thanks.” 

Caleb’s middle finger slipped inside of you without a second thought. He moved it in and out, and the sound was loud, even with the music. You gripped at his wrist, but he didn’t stop. Gideon turned back around.

I need my role in this

Very clearly defined

“No problem. I got you.”

Caleb added another finger, and attached his lips to your neck, sucking. He was clearly intent on leaving a mark before you arrived at the party, and was succeeding. Any squirming you did was futile in his grip. He fingerfucked you harder. It was like he wanted to squeeze an orgasm out of you in the very short time you would be in the car. He just wanted to be inside of you, to touch you. Like he just couldn’t help himself. You had finally uncorked years of frustration, and he was taking it out on you in the best way possible.

I need your discipline

I need your help

You dug your hips back against his lap in retaliation, and Caleb grunted in response. You would have much preferred he just fuck you again, but there was no way it was going to happen in a car with two other people who you liked. Or even two people you didn’t like. Even if they didn’t care – or so Caleb said. He added the attention of his thumb along with his two fingers, and you gripped at his thigh, trying to keep your mouth shut.

I need your discipline

You know once I start

I cannot help myself

Caleb mouthed your ear, drowning out the sound of the conversation in the car with his soft voice.

“Think you can cum for me in my lap like this, princess? Gonna cum on Caleb’s fingers?”

And now it’s starting up

Feels like I’m losing touch

You shook your head. Not quite saying no – just overwhelmed with the situation. How were you supposed to finish when there were other people less than a foot away, having a full blown conversation? At least the music was blessedly loud, but Caleb gave you no reprieve from his thumb and the fingers inside of you. 

“I think you can. You can do it for me, right?”

Ooh, and nothing matters to me

Nothing matters this much

You nodded instead, because your orgasm was closing in on you, despite your trepidation. Your body – your mind had wanted Caleb for so long that it was so easy for him to coax one out of you, now. Caleb replaced the hand you had over your mouth with his own. It dominated the lower half of your face, covering your nose and mouth. Everything was Caleb.

I see you left a mark

Up and down my skin, skin, skin

You rocked your hips into Caleb’s fingers, and you felt him nod his encouragement against your neck.

“Mhm. Yeah. Just like that.”

 His big hand tightened around your face. Your breathing was loud through the small openings in his fingers, and you were near certain you had drooled on him. 

I don’t know where I end

And where you begin

Caleb’s teeth sank into your neck again, and your orgasm found you. You came on his fingers, and he worked you through it, still fingerfucking you. You had to forcibly push him off to get some reprieve, and his fingers came out of you with a wet schluck. He sucked them into his mouth, and you heard rather than saw the sounds of him licking them clean of you. His dick twitched under your ass as he licked them. You leaned back against his chest, trying to catch your breath. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your stomach. The sound of Liam’s voice made you sit up straight, and pull down on your skirt.

“Yo, we’re here. Gonna get the stuff out of the back.”

He parked the jeep on the roadside as he spoke, and cut the engine. He and Gideon exited the car, and went around to open the back. The music came to an abrupt stop, and a different kind of music reached your ears. Even through the windows of the car, you could hear the bass of it pumping from inside of the house. You peered through the window. People milled about in the yard. The place was nearly identical to the one Caleb was residing in. He patted the side of your thigh.

“Up and at ‘em, pips. Gotta help these guys out.”

He spoke like he hadn’t just worked an orgasm out of you in under a minute. Caleb opened the door for you, and you slipped off of his lap onto the sidewalk. It took you a moment to find your footing, and you had to discreetly try to adjust your underwear back into place. They were now uncomfortably wet. You turned to glare at Caleb, who had already climbed out and shut the door behind you. He steadied you with hands around your waist, rubbing up and down your sides.

“You okay, princess? Was that too much?”

His tone was way too innocent for how he had been acting moments prior.

“I’m okay. You, however, are clinically insane.”

Caleb blew cool air on the back of your neck, lifting your hair out of the way.

“Well, yeah. I jerk off thinkin’ about you, like, three or four times a day. Now that I can finally have you, you drive me crazier than ever. Wait here for just a sec, okay?”

Caleb jogged to the back of the car, pockets jingling, like he hadn’t just admitted that to you.  There was a rustling, along with a murmur of agreement from the three men. You watched with big eyes as they all came back around with grocery bags full of god-knows-what in hand. Caleb transferred all of the bags he was holding to his left hand, and put his right around your waist. 

“Ready?” 

You didn’t quite feel ready, post orgasm. Maybe you should have taken a pregame shot before coming. You nodded yes, anyway. You knew you didn’t have anything to worry about with popular, sunshine Caleb around. Well, besides his popularity. Maybe you should be worried. He guided you into the house party, flanked by Gideon and Liam on either side, like some sort of toga-clad guard detail. There was a rousing whoop as your group entered, clearly from people who recognized your boys. The throng of people was already pressed close around you, and the party was only just beginning. Young men in makeshift togas dominated the space, their loud voices making it hard to hear anything else besides them and the music. The house was nearly identical to Caleb’s on the inside. You clung closer to him as you made your way to the kitchen. 

Caleb dropped the bags on the already full counter, next to a comically large stack of red solo cups. From it he produced vodka, peach Schnapps, everclear, Triple Sec, Sprite, pineapple juice, fruits…it just kept coming. You stared, watching in silent horror and awe. Liam and Gideon began opening the bottles, and pouring them diligently into a big, orange, spigoted dispenser, along with the cut fruit. Caleb frowned.

“We probably should have soaked the fruits beforehand. But who has time for that?”

You just looked at him. Liam was stirring the corrupted mixture with a big, metal ladle, like some kind of witch's brew. Caleb held a red solo cup under the spigot, and the liquid, which was now a radioactive sort of red, poured into it. He put it into your hands. You stared at it, and then at him. 

“What the hell is this, Caleb?”

Caleb cocked his head at you, and smiled. He tapped the side of your cup with his fingertip.

“Jungle juice, duh. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Promise I had these guys get only the best ingredients for my little girl.” 

People were milling around the kitchen now, helping themselves to the concoction. You were saved from being shoved around by Caleb pressing you against the kitchen counter with his body weight. His arms were on either side of you. Between his words and his proximity, you couldn’t keep the rise of heat from your face. Even after he had showered, you swore you could still smell the sex on him. You stared down into the cup instead of up at Caleb.

Well, you had probably had worse. No, definitely. 

Caleb leaned down closer to your ear, whispering so that only you could hear.

“You don’t have to drink, baby. No pressure. I can toss it if you want. No big deal.” 

You shook your head. Drinking wasn’t the issue here. You had never been drunk around Caleb before – and for good reason. You were worried you would try to feel him up, or worse, confess. Now, the former wasn’t so much of a problem. The latter – well, that was a problem for the you of the future. You looked back up into his eyes, and resolutely took a sip. Caleb’s eyes followed the movement of the liquid down your throat as you swallowed. The taste wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. More like…exactly what you imagined. The burn of alcohol with a hint of fruit and soda, enough to knock most people flat on their asses after one or two cups. Caleb tilted up your chin with two fingers, and leaned in close. His tongue passed over his open lips, and he dragged it over yours, licking at your mouth. You waited for him to kiss you fully, but it never came. He smacked his lips, and made a face like he was pondering the taste, his eyes roving up and to the right.

“Ooh. That’s the good stuff. Don’t have too much, yeah?”

Before you could answer and tell him that you were a fully grown adult who could regulate your own alcohol consumption, thank you very much, there was a commotion, and a chorus of voices Called Caleb’s name. You saw irritation flash over his features for just the briefest moment. Anyone else probably would have missed it, but you had known Caleb for long enough to see it. 

“Will you be okay without me for a sec?”

You shoved his chest gently with the flat of your palms. 

“Go on. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ll live.”

Caleb wavered for a moment, but then relaxed. 

“Okay. Keep your phone turned up. I shouldn’t be long.”

You dutifully took your phone from your bag, and turned up the ringer as Caleb disappeared into the crowd. You spent some time chatting idly with Liam and Gideon, who were good company, but they too were eventually commandeered by other men in togas, giving you apologetic looks as they left you behind. You ended up sort of pressed into the kitchen counter by a group of people you didn’t recognize, who were friendly, but sweaty. In that time, you had another cup or two in an attempt to keep up with the increasingly nonsensical conversation.

Feeling the need to escape the hot air that other people were breathing in your general direction, you spied a patio door, and pushed your way through the crowd, holding your cup above your head so it wouldn’t spill as you were pushed here and there. You slipped out of the crowd and out the door, which was already slightly ajar. The difference in air quality was significant, and you took a deep breath, finally not breathing in the exhale of other people. The crowd wasn’t nearly as dense out here. It opened into a decently sized, raised patio, with a backyard that was hugged on either side by towering oak trees, cut neatly across by a wooden fence.  Some couples sat in the grass, reclining, and a few people smoked. The ratio of red solo cups was significantly less dense, as well. You spied a place on the wooden patio that looked good to lean on while you soaked in the fresh air, and made for it, leaning your back against the wood, finally able to breathe.

The sky above you had gone completely dark. The rain had long since stopped, but the air was still slightly fresh with wetness, and the clean smell that came with it. Despite the light pollution, you could just make out the pulsing band of Orion’s belt above you. You watched the twinkling of its light, a long past image that was just now reaching your eyes. A low voice with a sweet timbre interrupted your viewing.

“Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, Or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? Or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons? Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven?”

You looked down from the sky, and towards the direction of the deep voice. Before you stood a man of stature that was almost identical to Caleb’s, though his looks were radically different. His face was striking, all sharp planes, with a regal, aquiline nose. A soft coif of hair that looked like it had been touched by the moonlight graced his head. But most startling of all were his eyes. They regarded you like the fresh well of blood from a razor’s cut, and they were the same color. You blinked at him, a little shocked by his appearance – and his lack of a toga. Instead, he wore an expensive looking silk black dress shirt and slacks, complete with a thick silver chain around his neck. 

“Mind if I smoke?”

You shook your head, admittedly a little struck by the stranger. Was he a student? He could almost pass for a professor, were it not for his presence at this party, and a certain playfulness about his eyes and mouth. You gestured to the railing next to you.

“Be my guest.”

He nodded, and pulled an expensive looking silver cigarette case from his pocket. It reflected the deep blue of the night sky like a mirror. The cigarettes inside were long and black, and he placed one between plush lips, lighting it with an engraved zippo. You squinted at the words. It read: 

‘WHEN I GO TO HELL

COME WITH ME.’

You watched with the unconcealed interest of someone who had been consuming alcohol, but he didn’t seem bothered in the least by your gaze. He glanced to you, and held the open case out to you. His long fingers dwarfed the metal box.

“Would you like one?”

You shook your head. You started to say No thanks, I quit, because you had. Your oral fixation needed working on still, though. Caleb had been supplying you dutifully with lollipops, gum, and toothpicks in lieu of cigarettes.  The alcohol, however,  had you feeling rather bold. It helped (or maybe it didn’t?) that he was smoking your brand. You plucked the lit cigarette from the man’s lips, and took a drag from it. The cloves were sweet on your tongue, and the nicotine rush hit you in a wave that was the perfect combination with your buzz. The man with the rubies for eyes regarded you curiously, his mouth turned up in a half smile. You handed the cigarette back to him, tilting your head. You found yourself smiling, finally able to relax.

“Thank youuu.” 

He put the cigarette back into his own mouth, and took a drag from it. He exhaled at the sky, in the direction of the stars, instead of offering any words in return. You eyeballed him. Something he had said when he made his strange, grand entrance tugged at your memory. Something from your comparative religion course, maybe? What was that?

“Were you quoting the Bible at me earlier?”

The man turned back towards you, the lit cigarette in between two of his fingers. The end of it glowed nearly the same color of his eyes. He flicked it, and nodded, once.

“Very astute, sweetie. It’s God mocking Job – or rather, man in general – for his ignorance and weakness. Can man ‘loose the pleiades?’ Change a wilting winter into a blossoming spring, with the sweet influences with beautiful rosettes? Can he break free from his chains of his own accord?” 

He sounded like something was funny, in a wistful, far away sort of way. You regarded the man levelly. From anyone else, you may have thought this sounded like a pretentious crock of pseudo-intellectual bullshit – but he seemed deeply genuine. Like there was something he wanted you to glean from this, to remember. It helped that he was devilishly handsome, too. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to you. But you couldn’t quite grasp it like you wanted to, so you just nodded. The man’s eyes drifted away from you, towards the direction you had come from.

“Speaking of chains,”

He pointed one slender finger towards the patio door. 

“You may want to rescue your brother from his. He seems to be having some trouble inside.”

A flurry of questions rose to your mind – how he knew your brother – or rather, Caleb, from where, and how, to name a few. But none of these seemed as pertinent as going to Caleb’s rescue. Whatever that meant. So you just picked the one burning at the forefront of your mind.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

The man with the moon-touched hair crossed his legs, leaning back casually against the railing. He titled his head, offering you an otherworldly smile full of straight, white teeth.

“It’s Sylus. Sylus Qin.”

As you departed from your strange but handsome companion, you tossed back the last of your drink, and threw the empty cup into the nearby overflowing trash. You had a new mission: rescue Caleb from whatever sort of trouble he had gotten himself into. You were having a hard time imagining what that could possibly be, seeing as he was the sober one, and you were the mildly (or not so mildly) intoxicated one. Back inside, the party had grown from a too-tight gathering to a pulsating throng. You had to push and excuse-me-sorry your way through half naked people and men in togas, heading towards what you thought was the center of the commotion. You kept having to touch the bare skin of others as you moved, and you fought back the rising feeling of disgust, trying to focus on reaching Caleb. You would have crawled your way backwards through hell for him. This, surely, was nothing. Okay, maybe it was a little comparable.

It didn’t take you long to find him. He was centered in the living room of the party, surrounded on all sides by young men and women. You pushed through the circle, until you were just adjacent to him. One girl hung off of his arm – the arm that he had lost feeling in. The other was trying to push a drink in his hand. You felt yourself deflate at his expression. He was smiling from ear to ear, face flushed with exertion. He was politely rejecting the drink, saying something you couldn’t quite make out. The hand with the cup retracted, dejected. Your ears rang, watching the pretty hands of the girl curl around the scar on his right bicep. You stared, and stared. And stared.

“...squeak.”

“Pipsqueak!”

You snapped back into reality at the use of your nickname. Caleb was making the word with his mouth, gesturing for you to come closer. You approached him in a daze. The girl still clutched at his arm. She was pretty, with cascades of bright red knotless braids flowing down her back and shoulders, and big brown doe eyes. They looked good together. It occurred to you that the sex with Caleb could have meant nothing at all – and maybe that’s all he was interested in. It was possible to be interested in someone sexually and not romantically, after all. Maybe he had harbored one feeling, but not the other. Unlike you, who harbored both feelings for your brother. Truly fucked in the head, now on both levels. You offered the pretty girl a little smile, trying to school your face in a friendly expression. You weren’t that little girl who bit, screamed, and scratched Caleb anymore. You were an adult. An adult who could respect his choices.

The girl's voice reached you, directed at Caleb.

“Oh! Is this your little sister? She’s so cute!”

She sounded genuine, not disparaging at all. It made you feel even worse for wallowing in your jealousy. You looked at Caleb for direction. How should you answer? What role should you take tonight? Then, as you looked, watched the indecision on Caleb’s face, irritation replaced your jealousy. Why should you have to stand right where you want to be, and not have it? You shrugged.

“Dunno! His fingers were just inside me in the car. Who I am tonight, Caleb? Your girlfriend, or your little sister? Maybe both? Is that easier for you?”

Maybe you’d ruin his perfect reputation, right here, in front of everyone. Not many people seemed to hear you over the music and conversation, though.

The girl put a delicate hand over her mouth, and her eyebrows raised.

“Ooh,” she nudged Caleb. “What are you going to do?”

Caleb was scowling, now. That was better. His angry face was sexy. Maybe he’d finally ditch you – or take it out on you. Hopefully the latter. You felt like angry sex with Caleb would be really good. He leaned down and said something into the girl’s ear. She retracted her hand, nodding. She made a mock salute at Caleb, and winked at you. Seriously, what the fuck was their relationship?

“Good luck!”

Caleb started towards you, and in the middle of everyone, you were thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder, as if you were a sack of flour. He kept one hand on your ass, so that you wouldn’t expose yourself. You beat on his chest with your fists, and tried to protest – but his evol was holding your mouth shut. He ignored your physical protests, and people parted out of the way for him, looking down,  as he carried you up the stairs of the house. It seemed like everyone knew him – and by extension, you as well. Just another Tuesday – or whatever day it was. He turned abruptly into an unoccupied hallway, though people passed just beside it, and set you down to your feet on the carpet. His evol released your mouth.

“Caleb–!”

He put a finger to your lips, stopping you. He sniffed.

“Have you been smoking, pips?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. That was what he was worried about?

“Yeah. There was a hot guy outside who oh-so-kindly offered, while you were otherwise occupied.”

“A hot guy–?” Caleb stopped himself, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes slid shut, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to collect himself. 

Caleb grasped your wrist, and pulled open the nearest room, tugging you into it. You hated the idea of entering someone’s bedroom unannounced without their permission, but it seemed wholly unoccupied, thankfully. He tugged off the sheet that was acting as his toga, tossing his belt and your hair clip aside along with it. The cap went, too. It left him only in his cargo shorts and boots. He gripped the back of your hair, and pushed you into a mean kiss without further warning, taking the breath away from any further words you could say. He pulled away from you, panting. The anger was still there, hot in his eyes. He kissed the side of your mouth.

“That was my friend, by the way. She was trying to rescue me from getting drinks poured down my throat,” he rasped, clearly still upset.

Then, as if thinking it through, he added in a tone that was all too serious:

“She’s also gay.”

Your anger immediately disappeared, and turned into laughter. At yourself, at the situation. The fact that he was explaining himself to you. You felt guilty, and you felt giddy. You wanted him more than ever. You wanted something in your mouth. You took his hand into yours, and held it up. Caleb watched you, clearly still reeling from everything that had just happened – but he still let you. You put the fingers into your mouth, closing your lips around them. You sucked, letting them reach near the back of your throat. You thought you were going to gag, but the alcohol had you feeling so relaxed that you didn’t. You looked at Caleb as you sucked. You saw his nostrils flare, his eyes trained on the place where you had him in your mouth. He palmed himself through his pants. His voice sounded rough when he spoke.

“You need something in your mouth that bad? Fine.”

He pulled you back from his fingers by your hair, and you watched, enraptured, as his big hands, one still wet from your saliva, unzipped his shorts. He pulled down his boxers, and his dick sprung free from them, slapping up against his stomach. You wondered, a little gleefully, how many times you had gotten him hard that day. This was exactly what you needed. You sank to your knees eagerly before him, and his familiar scent washed over you. You pressed your cheek against his leaking cock. Caleb groaned, tossing his head back against the door.

“Don’t go to anyone else to fill your mouth. Only me. Understand?”

He slapped your cheek with his dick, and rubbed the head against your lips, wetting them with his precum. You nodded against it, lips slipping over it. 

Caleb tugged open your bottom lip with his thumb, and pressed his dick against your teeth.

“That’s my good girl. Now open up and suck me off.”

You opened your lips, and took him in your mouth. There was absolutely no way in hell you were fitting most of him inside, so you took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, and used your spit to jerk him while you worked him with your tongue. His hips stuttered into your mouth, like he was trying everything in his power not to fuck your throat. You pulled off for a moment, licking the head of him, tonguing his slit. You committed the bitter taste of him to memory.

He watched you intently, big hand fisted in your hair, guiding you up and down. He was loud, too, little whines and groans spilling from his lips. His sounds only spurred you on. You could tell he was close with the way he was twitching in your mouth, and the way he was pulling on your hair. You were certain he was going to cum down your throat, but he suddenly hoisted to your feet by your armpits, and lifted your skirt, pulling down your underwear, just enough so that he could slide his dick between your legs, right against your pussy.

“Caleb–?”

He gripped you by your hips, sliding you up and down the length of his cock like you were a toy. 

“Fuck – saying my name – gonna make me –”

Caleb’s hips stuttered as he spoke, and he held your panties open with a finger, his dick against them, and came in hot ropes in the seat of them. His abdomen heaved as he rode out his orgasm. He stilled for only a moment to catch his breath, and then pulled your underwear right back up, pushing his cum against your pussy between them. You stared into his face, dumbfounded. Turned on. 

Caleb cupped your face delicately in his hands. The contrast of the feeling of his cum between your legs and his soft touch made you laugh, and Caleb let a smile fall over his face too. You squeezed one of his cheeks, making it go even more red than it already was.

“Meanie.”

Caleb scrunched up his nose at your treatment. He stuck his tongue out to the side, and tried to touch it to your hand. You dropped it so he couldn’t reach you. He grinned.

“Yeah. I’m a bad guy, huh? I just wanna mess you up all the time. Especially after you told me another guy was puttin’ something in your mouth. Well, now my cock’s been in your mouth, and my cum’s in your–” 

You put a hand over his mouth, hearing footsteps approaching in the hallway. There was a knocking at the door. Caleb’s eyes went wide, and then focused on something behind you. He took your hand from his mouth, and there was a succession of events so sudden that you had a hard time processing what exactly was happening.

First, there was a woosh as the window of the room came open. You smelled the night air before you saw it. Then, Caleb gathered the toga bundle in his hand, and made for the window. You watched, unable to believe what you were seeing, as he leapt through the open window. The movement reminded you of pole jumpers, the way he bent his body expertly through the space. You worried for just a moment, because you were on the second floor – and then you recalled that your brother could control gravity with his mind. Right.

As that thought struck you, you too were in the air, though you couldn’t see Caleb. You were whisked from the room and out the window, which shut loudly behind you. You felt like you might fall, your hands windmilling,  but instead you drifted into Caleb’s outstretched arms. The little sheet floated behind him, curled around the other items diligently. The window had opened up to a side lot, away from prying eyes. You stared into Caleb’s face, and he stared into yours. Then, both of you erupted into peals of laughter. Caleb doubled over, pressing his forehead against yours. His chest shook with the force of it. When he pulled away, he nearly started laughing all over again, and you saw tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. You wiped at them with your thumbs. Caleb looked very smug.

“Agent pip and Captain Caleb making a daring escape after sharing a heated encounter in public,” he narrated, like an announcer, voice a half-whisper.

“What will their next escapade entail? Tune in for the next episode and find out!”

You snorted, unable to keep the sound from coming out of you. It took great effort not to start laughing for real all over again.

“I’d like the next episode to be a little less action packed, if possible,” you mused.

Caleb nodded, and began walking you down the drive, and down the sidewalk in the direction of his frat. The sheet followed behind. You wondered what Gideon and Liam would think of all of this. They’d probably just support Caleb, like always.

“Noted. Next time I’ll draft out somethin’ significantly more relaxed. Or maybe it will be like, an alternate universe. I’ll be your trusty knight in shining armor, and you’ll be my princess. Oh wait,” he paused, and leaned down, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You already are my princess.”

You reached up, and cupped his jaw, feeling his stubble there. His skin was still a little sweaty. Your buzz was starting to make you enter that half-sleepy, half-giggly state. You smirked at him.

“You’re the best big brother in the world. You always take care of me, even if you get mad at me sometimes. And your dick feels really good inside me, too.”

Caleb laughed softly, and shook his head. His violet eyes regarded you warmly, like the caress of the night air around your skin.

“I’m glad your big brother’s dick makes you feel good, baby. Don’t let anyone else but me hear you say that, though.”

You frowned, and kicked your legs. They dangled over one of Caleb’s strong arms, the leather of your boots creaking. Your calves were starting to ache. You would have to take those stupid boots off when you got home. Actually, you would have Caleb take them off for you. And you wouldn’t even have to ask. You remembered his cum in your underwear, and frowned even deeper. 

“Why? Are you ashamed to be my brother?”

Caleb shook his head again. He looked ahead instead of at you as he walked. You stared at the necklace glistening against the bare skin of his chest, illuminated only by the passing streetlights. Moths fluttered around them overhead, drawn to their illuminated doom. Somewhere, a lonesome dog barked, trapped behind a fence in a yard.

“No. Not at all. I just…maybe I want to be that and more.”

His voice trailed off towards the end, like he was unsure of himself. His cheeks and ears were pink again. You tugged on his necklace, examining the little ruby in the heart of the silver apple. It was just like you – nestled right in the middle of him, always. Your heart increased its pace at his words. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel hopeful. You ran your thumb over the small charm.

“More? You mean like, dating-more?”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, and then adjusted you in his arms, tossing you in the air a little, once, then twice. You knew he was playing with you. You gripped tighter around his neck, unable to keep from laughing. He laughed, too. The sounds of your combined happiness echoed off of the empty street and into the soft serenity of the night.

“This is a conversation for when you’re sober, pips. In the morning. Right now, all I want is to get you home and snuggled up in bed. Preferably next to me. So be a good girl and let me, yeah?”

You wanted to argue, but you knew he was right. He seemed more earnest than ever. You knew, instinctively, that he would be honest with you. You knew, because you knew him better than anyone else in the world. You were like that scar on his arm. He could never be rid of you, even if it still hurt sometimes. You’d let Caleb put you to bed. And in the morning, you’d wake up to a Caleb who told the whole truth, this time.

[kitimeq]

✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you showed up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapong around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched, his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it, he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the most sexy, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extend of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, as he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you to shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spend in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have went kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was loosing his composure and he was loosing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the build up straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him, it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words, a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lift you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress, his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one figer inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep, your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily, the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it, you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were loosing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he send you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[miumonga]

VIRGIN!JJK FIC RECS

something about virginity loss fics makes me sooo wet... req by anon ^^ adding onto the list whenever i find more <3 mdni, nsfw content!

gojo digimon—but making u cum is my real hobby - blkkizzat strongest sorcerer virgin - megumiluv virgin and unexperienced bf!gojo - fatal fairies number one sorcerer (and virgin) - inmaki nerds do it better - sugugasm virginity loss & riding - creamflix inculpatus - jaegerbby teach me how to pleasure my future wife (you) - fvsm4x

geto reformed player!geto - akicult virginity loss & riding - creamflix losing your virginity to geto suguru - yasu-1234 his favourite - h34rtbeat just let me love you - sttoru salvation - puppykento inked - choslut

nanami she said it's her first time - classyrbf sins of the flesh - semisgroupie perfect lover: the life of nanami kento the 35 year old virgin (series) - kanekisfavouritegf

yuuji oh my god, pretty - lokissweater virgin!yuji x virgin!reader - nana-au bff & virgin!yuji - nana-au yuji x f!reader - ickyuji

megumi best friend megumi fushiguro - onismdaydream megumi's birthday - mommypeick first time having sex is awkward - wild-jackaloupe how to fuck 101 - chosok-amo i think i'm ready - romantichomocide95 first time - megvmijx

yuta that boy is mine! i can't wait to try him! - rosesaints gummy bear - loveanddeepdick right here - love-jelly smile, you're on camera - seraphdreams

choso virgin!choso - teasingchoso choso kamo x f!reader - jaegerdilf mind body and soul - admirxation cherry blossoms ( 1 2 3 4 5 ) - sellenite cherry smoke clouds - kleftiko he's such a (hot) looser - classyrbf emo boy - krys4h

toji sins of the flesh - semisgroupie

taboo crush - spideyyeet best friend's dad - nanaslut

sukuna virgin!sukuna - screampied

etc jjk!boys x virgin!fem reader v!rgin killa - screampied asking the jjk characters to take your virginity - nanaslut cherry popper - satorusugurugirl

[hiiie]

Yummy wip

[ssukunasslut]

HELL YEAH

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

The Salesman

Tic-Tac-Toe | Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, +18

Protecting His Investment | No one got to hurt you except him, mdni, +18

Indebted | He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys, mdni, +18

Blink Twice | He's pushing your body to its brink, and it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…, mdni, +18

[ssukunasslut]

this one's for the fucking books

[indiewritesxoxo]

pick your player ft. cyberbully!Sukuna x f2p!Reader

cyberbully!Sukuna who absolutely loathes to admit it, but after just a couple weeks of coaching (which mostly consisted of him barking commands at you and explaining that you should actually, y'know, read the weapon descriptions before just pointing and clicking) you aren't half-bad anymore

cyberbully!Sukuna who hates it even more when he gets home from work to see your status as already in-game, making snide comments once he joins about you picking up bad habits from someone else while he's not around

cyberbully!Sukuna who feels a flicker of pride the first time your username slots neatly underneath his in second place, the notification flashing on the top of the screen for everyone to see when you manage to start a kill streak

cyberbully!Sukuna who relaxes back in his expensive gaming chair after the round ends, listening to your excited squeal over the voice call searching for praise, practically pleading for him to tell you what a good girl you were, pouting when all you got back was a low grunt of approval instead

cyberbully!Sukuna who thinks you must be lonely, considering how often you're online and in his messages, naive too since you gave him your number barely two weeks after he started helping you, claiming you actually liked talking to him

cyberbully!Sukuna who hasn't even seen your face yet but somehow knows the names of your pets, which coworker you can't stand and even your favorite flavor of ice cream, all because you never seem to shut up (although the silence without you had started to feel suffocating)

cyberbully!Sukuna who's seething when you headshot some prick in-game just for him to call you a cheater in the voice chat, a slut, spewing insult after insult that he'd never have the balls to say to anyone's face

cyberbully!Sukuna who barely manages to message you to mute him before he's opening the asshole's profile in a separate tab bookmarked to take care of later before opening the game back up, waiting outside of the other team's spawn to slaughter him again and again despite your soft protests in his ear that losers like him didn't bother you

cyberbully!Sukuna who doxes him after you fall asleep anyway

cyberbully!Sukuna who can't sleep, stuck listening to the quiet sound of your breathing through the phone, the call you forgot to hang up before dozing off, the quiet little murmurs of something unintelligible he can't make out (but he swears he hears his name in there)

cyberbully!Sukuna who is considering cutting his own dick off at the fleeting thought that it's cute you don't even shut up in your sleep, the tent in his sweatpants a traitor for straining against the band more with every little exhale from the other line

cyberbully!Sukuna who doesn't like you like that, can't like you like that, refuses to want you like that when he's never even met you - right?

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