caleb gets sooo fucking noisy n desperate when he finally fucks you
you can barely breathe but this man is reciting poems he made twelve years ago while he pounds you to the mattress. he's delirious with affection. your pussy makes him conqeur heaven's worship songs.
"mm—hngh, meimei," he gasps, calebs grip on your waist tight. "y-you're so tight... hahh, around me. did you wait for gege to f-finally take your virginity?"
he's making himself crazy with the very idea that you love him as much he does you. it's driving him mad.
"made gege wait. b-but it's okay.. now gege can use your pretty p-pussy as his personal fuckin' sleeve."
"yeah, meimei. squeeze that pussy for me. t-take my fuckin' cock—oh god..!" he thumbs your clit just how you like it.
"so wet.. so fuckin' wet, meimei. i-is gege's cock too big? is it bullying y-you're pretty... womb?"
you're getting dizzy with each thrust. the cock slides so deep inside of you that it feels like it's knocking against your cervix. he has his chest to yours and his hips slamming down like he's trynna get you knocked up—
and that's what he wants anyways. "g-get pregnant, get pregnant, get pregnant—pleasepleasepleaseplease meimei..!"
caleb whimpers as he comes inside of you. a long drawn out moan is pulled outta him as he buries his seed so deep. he has no plan in letting a single drop leak out
Summary: When you visit the DAA and pretend to be Caleb’s girlfriend, he gets a taste of what he has wanted all his life and he won’t stop with just a taste.
warnings: pseudo incest HEAVY, noncon, sickfic, dead dove do not eat, caleb is crazy and manipulative, mc thinks it’s all her fault, cries a lot, dom!caleb, titty sucking, cunnilingus, PIV sex, creampie, allusions to babytrapping, inappropriate use of evol
When Caleb asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend so he can fend off his horde of admirers at the DAA, you didn’t bat an eye. Caleb always had admirers and now that his college peers don’t know you’re his sister, you can successfully take on the role of girlfriend and fool them into giving Caleb the peaceful semester he wants. After all, a clingy and jealous girlfriend was a much better deterrent than a clingy and jealous younger sister.
But the amount of people vying for Caleb’s attention has increased ten-fold since you were in middle school. After all, Caleb was a talented pilot, a star athlete, an intelligent student, and a very attractive guy—he was the whole package as everyone at the DAA was so eager to tell you.
So in order to really sell the lie, you had to go the extra mile, at least according to Caleb. That’s why for the whole day, you were pressed to his side, his arm around you, your fingers intertwined.
“We have to pretend to be in love for this to work, pipsqueak.” He had whispered in your ear when you had tensed up the first time he did it. But his usual playful voice put you at ease.
Yeah, he was just trying to sell the ruse. It would be pointless if people weren't convinced, right? So you loosened up and leaned into him the same way you had done countless times before, only this time it was in front of an audience.
What you hadn't done before, though, was kiss. But that was needed to sell the lie too, wasn't it? After all, what kind of boyfriend doesn't kiss his girlfriend when he wins the big game?
And that’s exactly what happened. You were at Caleb’s basketball game, playing the role of the cheerleader girlfriend, perched courtside in his jersey, shouting praises for him over the crowd.
Caleb was amazing as always, the undisputed star of the game, his movements were quick and graceful as he dribbled, jumped, and sank shot after shot, bringing the win home for his team with such ease it had the crowd erupting with cheers for him. When the buzzer signaled the end of the game, his teammates swarmed him on the court, congratulating him with slaps on the back and hearty hugs, once again singing their praises for him.
He returned a few handshakes and quick embraces, but Caleb’s eyes quickly found you, and that was the one thing that never changed, whether you were his sister or his girlfriend. He broke out into a huge smile as your gazes met, and he jogged towards you, chest heaving and skin glistening.
To everyone at the stadium, he must’ve looked like a demigod—a powerful young man filled with vigor and talent. But to you he was just your Caleb, your older brother, rushing to share his triumphs with you because otherwise it would have been joyless.
You had smiled brightly at him, holding out the towel and water bottle as you always did, a ritual you’d become familiar with from years of sibling support. But the words that came out of his mouth weren't the ones you were used to—not exactly.
"That was for you, baby." He had said loudly, his voice carrying over the cheers, and he ignored your offerings entirely, his hands instead cupping your face and bringing it towards him, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss.
A kiss. Caleb had kissed you. Your brother had kissed you in front of a stadium full of people, and you could do nothing but stand still and let him do it. You didn't want to ruin the ruse so publicly, not with the crowd watching, their cheers turning to whistles and catcalls.
The kiss wasn’t scandalous by any means, but it wasn’t chaste either. Not what you imagined your first kiss to be. It wasn’t slow and hesitant like you imagined. No, it was eager, firm, inescapable—probably exactly how a triumphant boyfriend high off his impressive win would kiss his loving girlfriend… but not how a brother should ever celebrate with his sister.
That kiss had tilted your world sideways, leaving you confused and disoriented, but when Caleb finally pulled away, having stolen all the air in your lungs, he just laughed, his eyes gleaming and his face joyous, as if he had actually forgotten what you were for a moment and believed you were really his girlfriend.
His teammates had yanked him away before you could muster a single word, not that your scrambled brain could’ve formed any coherent ones. You stood there, frozen courtside, lips tingling and swollen, staring after your brother as he was swallowed by the celebratory huddle. Despite your ears ringing, it still couldn't drown out the mutters rising from the crowd behind you.
"Is that his girlfriend?"
"They look cute together."
"Aw, they must be in love."
“How did she snag him?”
"Lucky bitch."
Caleb was right. It worked. That’s why he did it. It was all for the ruse. That’s it. No need to overthink it.
____________________________
You didn’t feel up to going out for drinks with Caleb’s teammates later that day, the idea of more pretense, more touching, more kissing, made your stomach churn. But all his teammates' girlfriends were going to be there and if you ditch him so soon then people might get suspicious. After all, you were only in Skyhaven to visit him and support him so why would you let him go alone to the afterparty?
The booth you were all seated in was cramped, a dozen bodies squeezed together in a tangle of laughter and booze… and it was normal, perfectly normal, that you ended up seated in Caleb's lap.
You'd done it countless times before so it wasn’t the intimacy that was making you uneasy this time or sending prickles of anxiety across your skin. No, it was Caleb's lips brushing the curve of your neck, warm and incessant, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered, "Loosen up, pipsqueak. You're making it look like you're my hostage instead of my girlfriend." He gave you that easy chuckle you knew so well, but underneath it lurked a darker note that put you on edge.
It scared you a little because you didn’t understand where it was coming from, but you couldn’t run from it or even question it, not without ruining everything for Caleb, and you wouldn’t do that to him.
And so you had settled more fully in his lap, your back pressed to his chest, the heat of his body burning through you. His hands, large and calloused, roamed up and down your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, dipping dangerously close to the swell of your breasts before retreating. Each stroke pulled at your sanity, making you unravel.
It’s okay. This is all for show. You just have to stay still and let him do what he needs to do. He has done so much for you growing up, he has given you everything you ever asked for, spoiled you to no end, the least you could do is trust him. Your brother would never hurt you.
His friends teased him relentlessly, their voices slurred with alcohol and friendly banter. "Look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Can't keep your hands off her, huh, Caleb?" One laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast.
Another chimed in, "Now I get why Caleb was never interested in any of the girls here. Man, you're whipped. She's got you wrapped around her finger."
Caleb chuckled against your skin, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss to your pulse point, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into your flesh. "What can I say? She's irresistible." He murmured, turning your head towards him and kissed you in front of everyone once again.
This kiss was deeper, more hungry, more reckless. His tongue pressed into your mouth, and you could taste the beer on him. That must be why he’s being like this. He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s okay. You won’t embarrass him.
"Get a room, you two." One of his teammates groaned teasingly, and the others joined in with their own laughter. It was all so normal to them. You and Caleb were a couple in love, of course you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off each other.
They didn’t know he was your brother. They didn’t know how wrong this was. And they can’t know. It would ruin Caleb’s future. You had to be a good sister and protect his secret in his moment of weakness. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll feel terrible about all of this. He would cry and beg for your forgiveness and you’d call him silly and say it’s all forgotten.
You repeat that mantra in your head over and over again, trying to keep yourself calm, trying not to burst into tears in front of his friends… but when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, when you felt the hardness in his pants against your core, you suddenly couldn’t breathe.
"Caleb!" You shouted, pushing him back and breaking the kiss.
The outburst startled everyone at the table, including Caleb. He looks at you warily, as if he’s waiting to see if you’ll expose the whole thing. You throw a furtive glance around, and see that everyone is looking at you, waiting for an explanation for your sudden outburst.
You could stop it all now. But you couldn’t do this to Caleb.
Forcing a smile, you reach out to stroke his chest clumsily, acting like you’re drunker than you were. "I want to dance."You whined cutely, batting your lashes in exaggerated playfulness, your fingers playing with the dogtag you had gifted him when he was accepted into the DAA. "Can we dance? Please?"
He relaxed then, his face breaking out into that devastating smile of his, the smile that could lead you to ruin. He pulled you up from his lap effortlessly. "Anything for you, baby."
He leads you to the dance floor, where you had thought you might get a bit of reprieve from the acting that was way more intense and methodical than you ever imagined it would be. But on the dancefloor, Caleb is even closer to you, pressing his body against yours, the song playing at the moment giving him the perfect opportunity to keep you close.
His hands guide your hips as he moves you both to the sultry song blaring from the speakers. His head dips down, lips brushing your ear before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just enough to leave a mark.
"They're watching, pipsqueak." He admonishes sliding his hands down to cup your ass, moving you more sensually against him, and you’re sure to everyone else you look like a horny couple dry humping on the dancefloor. "You have to sell them on your performance of the smitten girlfriend."
And again you let him dictate your actions. You try not to think of what you’re doing too much. You’ve danced with Caleb before. You’ve only really danced with Caleb. No other boys dared approach you when they knew he was your big brother.
See, even though Caleb had many public admirers, your own admirers stayed secret, none of them daring to cross your protective older brother.
But like everything today, this dance was a twisted version of something you had been so used to. He has never danced like this with you before, and you certainly never felt this part of him pressed against your hip when he had danced with you at prom.
You try to keep calm. This would all be over soon, you tell yourself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. After tonight’s performance, no one would question your identity as Caleb’s girlfriend. No one would dare bother him anymore and Caleb could finally go back to being your older brother. Just your brother.
_______________________________
You were both drunk by the end of the night, the world a hazy blur of sights and sounds, Caleb more so than you with his flushed cheeks and loosened inhibitions. He would never do this to you if he wasn’t drunk. He just wasn’t aware of what he was doing.
Still his protectiveness shines through and he refuses to let you go home like this, drunk and vulnerable. Anyone could take advantage of you, he had said. Of course. Caleb is right. You’re safest with him. And you don’t have to worry about keeping on an act anymore. His friends are all gone now.
Well, except for Gideon—his best friend and dormmate. And you grow anxious at the thought that the ruse could continue. But when you step foot into the small dorm room, Gideon is nowhere to be seen.
"Where is Gideon?" You ask, looking around the room as if you would find him hidden in the closet or under the bed, unable to let your guard down just yet.
"He left for the night so I can spend more time with my girlfriend." Caleb laughed, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it with a soft click.
He goes to sit down on what you assumed was his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, his long legs spread wide as he leans back on his arms, muscles flexing under his shirt. His gaze rakes over you slowly, from head to toe, eyes hooded, the strange darkness in them making you squirm. "Said he saw how much we missed each other and wanted to give us a night together to… catch up."
"Haha… very funny, Gege." You rolled your eyes, trying to play off your nervousness as sarcasm, but your heart was hammering in your chest and you were almost certain he could hear it even from over there.
Why was he still going with this? The audience is gone, the ruse is no longer necessary. Yet here he was, staring at you like he wanted to eat you up. "You've had your fun already."
But before you can step far away from him, his arm reaches forward with lightning speed, snatching your wrist and yanking you on top of him. You land on his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the heat of his body searing through your clothes as his hands settle on your waist, holding you in place.
"Have I?" He murmurs, his voice dropping, his face inches from yours, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. "I think the fun is just starting."
His hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. The other hand dips lower, gripping your ass and pulling you down harder against him, letting you feel the full, throbbing length of his erection straining against his jeans—there was no denying it, what he wants.
“Caleb, stop messing around. Let me go so I can change and we can sleep.” You protest still, your voice full of exasperation and dread as you squirm in his lap.
“I don’t want to sleep.” He counters, his dark gaze dropping to your dress. “But I can help you take this off.”
Without waiting for permission, his fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, the cool metal teeth parting as he tugs it down, exposing the bare skin of your back to the cold air, his touch burning you like a brand as he tries to peel the fabric away. Instinctively, your hands fly up to press the dress against your chest, desperately holding it in place. It’s flimsy and weak but it’s all you got.
“Caleb! What are you doing?” Your voice cracks with fear and shock.
“Helping my girlfriend out of her pretty little dress.” He replies easily, his breath hot against your collarbone as he leans in closer. “Did you wear a dress this short to make me happy… or angry?”
His hands slide to your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh where the hem rode up too high, exposing more skin than you'd intended. “When I said I wanted all eyes on us, I didn’t mean it like that.” There was a jealous edge to his words, one that shouldn’t be there but you can’t deny you were familiar with. Caleb was never shy about his possessiveness over you. All your life you had thought it was because of his protectiveness, but now you’re starting to think differently.
“Come on.” He continues, his voice dropping to a growl that makes goosebumps cover your skin. “Gideon left so I can have some alone time with my girlfriend. Don’t let his sacrifice go to waste.” His grin is playful, but his eyes hold no humor, only a hunger that is waiting to devour you.
“Caleb, you’re not funny.” You shoot back, still trying desperately to remain in denial, but even your words come out breathless, weakened by the way his hips shift under you, pressing his cock more insistently against your pussy through the thin layers of fabric.
“Do I look like I’m laughing, pipsqueak?” He asks, and you suck in a sharp breath as you meet his gaze—the intense, dark look in his eyes like a storm swallowing every hint of playfulness you’ve come to expect to see there. Something is wrong with Caleb. Your brother is not well. It’s the alcohol. It’s making him delirious.
“Caleb—” You try to speak some reason into him, but he doesn’t even let you finish your thought, his hands roaming higher up your body, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the dress.
He silences you with a kiss, fierce and demanding, his lips crashing against yours as his tongue forces itself into your mouth. And in that distracting moment, he seizes the opportunity, yanking your dress down your chest with a harsh tug, the fabric pooling at your waist and baring your breasts to the cool air—to him. You whimper, pulling back from the kiss, your nipples hardening instantly under his heated stare. Panic swells within you, and you try to scramble away, to put distance between you, but he holds you in place with a sudden surge of his Evol, pinning your hips to his, and your body arches against him involuntarily as his cock rubs against your clothed pussy..
“Don’t run away now, pips.” He growls, voice rough with need and eyes devouring the sight of you half-exposed and vulnerable in his lap. “You’re not going to leave your boyfriend all hard and needy, are you? That’s cruel.”
He dips his head down, trailing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your chest. Each kiss is harsh and possessive—his lips suckling at your skin while his teeth leave stinging red parks across your sensitive flesh, burning you up despite your mind begging your body not to react.
How could you not? When his lips close around your nipple, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth, his tongue rolling in slow, swirling motions around the hardening bud in a way that makes your back arch involuntarily, pushing more of your breast into his eager mouth.
His free hand claims your other breast, kneading it with firm strokes, his fingers splaying wide to cover the entire thing, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in lazy, maddening loops before pinching it sharply between his thumb and forefinger. The contrast of pain and pleasure rip a gasp from your throat, your body betraying you as a fresh wave of heat flooded between your thighs, your panties growing slick with arousal despite the whirlwind of shame and denial screaming at you in your mind.
Then he switches sides, his mouth latching onto the neglected nipple with equal hunger, sucking it deeply into his mouth while his now-wet fingers roll the other, slick with his saliva, amplifying every nerve ending until your breasts throb under his touch and you squirm restlessly in his lap.
The Caleb you'd known—the protective, older brother—fades further into darkness, devoured by this feral imitation of him that bears his eyes but possesses none of his warmth, its dark gaze flicking up to meet yours as he works you over, watching your reactions with a predatory delight. You whimper his name in vain, your hands tangling in his messed up hair.
But he doesn’t listen. And your body, your traitorous body, grinds against his hard cock, an unwelcome ache building unbearably in your belly.
“Caleb, please, please. You’re drunk.” You beg, your voice trembling with desperation, pathetic tears welling in your eyes as you clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. “Stop this now, and we can forget this whole thing happened—please, Caleb, just... I’ll pretend it was all the alcohol.”
You expect him to pull back at any moment now, to burst out laughing at your teary face and tease you about how much of a crybaby you still are. To reveal that this had all been a test to remind you that you still need your older brother to protect you and that none of this meant anything.
But instead he glares at you with a clarity you hadn’t expected from the drunk man. “No. I’m finally in my right mind.” His hands roam along your bare skin with possessiveness, tracing the curves he'd only ever touched in innocence before. “I got a taste of what I’ve wanted all my life, and I won’t let go again.”
In the blink of an eye, he has you pushed back onto the bed, this figure looming over you and blocking out whatever little light is in the room. Before you can argue with him or question him about what the hell he means, he grabs your dress from around your waist and yanks it down, pulling it along with your panties down your legs and off your body, leaving you bare.
Caleb's gaze rakes over you hungrily, wildly—from the swell of your breasts that are marked from his earlier kisses, to the quiver of your belly, down to the glistening folds between your legs.
You press your thighs together, trying to hide away from him but he doesn’t appreciate that. Grunting, he grabs your thighs, his calloused palms pushing them apart roughly, spreading you wide open for him before you feel the weight of his Evol taking over to keep you splayed apart while his hands start to roam.
“Fuck, pips.” He groans darkly, licking his lips as one of his fingers traces the slick seam of your entrance, gathering the evidence of your body's betrayal. “Look how wet you are for me. Dirty girl.”
“It’s not my fault.” You whimper, tears spilling over now, their hot tracks burning down your cheeks as shame makes your stomach churn, and yet your hips twitch involuntarily under his uninvited touch. “You were touching me all night... can’t help it.”
“Shhh, dumb baby.” He soothes, but his words reek of condescension as he leans down to hover just above your core, his breath fanning hotly against your sensitive pussy. “This is exactly why I need to protect you. Can't have you opening your legs for just anyone.”
His tongue darts out then, lapping at you with slow strokes that make stars burst behind your eyelids, the taste of you seeming to his satisfaction, if his deep groan of approval is any indication.
He doesn’t maintain his restraint for long however, quickly devolving into a wild animal as he eats you up. His lips suck greedily at your clit, his tongue flicking and swirling in messy patterns, slurping up your arousal like he was starving for it, the wet, obscene sounds echoing in the small dorm room. His saliva mixes with your juices, dripping down his chin as he eats you out sloppily, nipping every now and then at the junction of your thighs as if he’s letting out a bit of the aggression he feels towards you before soothing the skin with broad, flat laps of his tongue that have your hips bucking involuntarily to push your pussy back against his face.
But through your lust-induced haze, you register the feeling of his fingers pressing against your entrance, thick and firm, teasing you before easing just one inside you, the single digit stretching your tightness with a sharp burn that makes you gasp and clench instinctively.
You've never had anything inside you before, not even your own curious touches going this far, and now it's your brother's finger invading you, curling around to explore your once untouched walls, pumping in shallow thrusts that build a nauseating, aching pressure that makes you want to rip your skin off.
"So fucking tight, pips." He murmurs against your pussy, and you can hear the roughness of his lust even with his voice muffled against you. You try to squirm under him to no avail, your body resisting the unfamiliar intrusion even as it slicks him further with arousal, your strength no match to his Evol.
Only when you finally start to adjust, your whimpers turning breathier, your pussy yielding to him, does he add the second finger, pushing it in alongside the first with the same methodical movements, so unlike how he ate you out before. It seems that even through whatever evil has taken over his body, he was careful not to hurt you. At least not in this way.
Still, no matter how careful he is, the stretch still hurts, and Caleb sees it on your face.
"Shh, you have to loosen up for me, baby. " He coos, diving back in with his tongue flicking wildly over your clit to distract you from the pain as his fingers now fuck you open in tandem—thrusting deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you that suddenly has you keening, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as your back arches clean off the bed but your thighs stay pinned down with his Evol.
But when he adds a third finger, even that isn’t enough to distract you, and you cry out in pain. “Caleb, please, please.”
But your pleas fall on deaf ears, Caleb much too preoccupied with the sight before him to stop now, his dark gaze fixed on where his fingers disappear into your slick heat, pumping relentlessly as your body struggles to accommodate him.
“Fuck, pipsqueak.” He breathes out heavily, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as he fucks you open a few more times before he pulls his fingers completely out. He holds them up in the air between you, your arousal a glistening mess all over them, tinged with a redness that seems to enrapture him.
“You’re a virgin….” He groans, the words dripping with raw lust and a twisted sense of triumph, his hooded eyes falling onto your trembling body, raking over you like you're a prize all wrapped up just for him. And you know at that moment that you’re going to be ruined—to be marked by your brother in ways that can never be undone. “You kept yourself for me.”
You want to argue with him, to snap back that you didn't stay a virgin for him. You stayed one because of him, because of his overprotectiveness that scared every boy who dared glance your way, his inappropriate jealousy that you stupidly made excuses for countless times before leaving no room for anyone else.
But now is not the time, not when he quickly discards his clothes, his shirt flung across the room, his belt weighing his pants down as they clink against the floor, leaving him as bare as you are. But his body isn’t like yours, it’s toned, sculpted from the military training and the countless sports he likes to partake in. He could overpower you even without his Evol.
But it’s not his muscles that scare you… it’s his cock, thick and veined, throbbing between his legs as he crawls up your body. It nudges insistently at your entrance, slick with precum as it pressing against your swollen pussy.
You know you’re ruined and yet you still beg for mercy, hoping you could somehow get through to him before it’s too late.
“Caleb, you don’t want to do this.” You plead as if you can’t feel just how much he wants it, your voice breaking as fresh tears spill down your cheeks, your hands reaching for him in a futile effort to push him away, palms flat against his chest where you feel his heart thundering wildly. “You’re my brother. I love you. I trust you. Please don’t ruin that.”
“That was your first mistake, baby.” He growled, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you. “Thinking I’d be satisfied with just being your good, obedient older brother.” He pushed inside you then, inch by merciless inch, the stretch burning like wildfire as he takes your virginity, stealing what should have never been his. “That I wouldn’t want more—fuck, you’re so tight.”
“No. I hate you. I hate you.” You cry out, the words spilling out of you as hot as your tears, scalding your mouth with proclamations you never thought you would utter at your brother, your Caleb.
“No you don’t.” He grabbed your face roughly, hips rocking forward until he was fully inside you, buried to the hilt in your heat, filling you so completely there was no room for breath. “Don't lie to me. Don't say such cruel things to your Gege.”
His face is dark with a fury you’ve never seen directed at you before, his hips pushing into you harshly, as if he means to punish you for your misbehaviour. Long ago, he had made you promise not to say those exact words to him, even in jest, and it seems he hasn’t forgotten about that, even if he has forgotten about his promise to protect you from everyone… but maybe he never included himself in that promise.
“Caleb—Gege, please, s-stop… please, j-just slow down.” Your hands scramble for grip on his muscular arms, your nails scraping the skin as his ruthless thrusts make stars of pleasure and nebulas of pain burst behind your eyelids, both warring feelings so intense you feel you’re going to pass out.
But he doesn’t falter, his cock filling you up over and over again, so big, so hard, forcing your pussy to take him. “Say it. Say you're lying.” He insists, eyes wild as his thrusts punctuate each word, driving himself deeper and deeper into you.
“I'm lying. I'm lying!” You sob, hoping your submission would placate him. But it’s not a lie. You don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. Even if he does something so despicable to you.
But Caleb wasn’t satisfied with just that, and his merciless treatment of your pliant body continued as he leaned closer, his sweat-slicked forehead pressing to yours, his breath mingling with your gasps. “Say you love me. Say you love this.”
You pause, the gasp your battered lungs muster barely making it past your lips. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be demanding that of you. He knows that. At least he knew that once, but something broke inside of him today and you feel an unbearable sense of guilt gnawing at you as you think that you must’ve had a hand in it.
You should have never pretended to be his girlfriend. You should have never let him kiss you. You should have never let him touch you that way. You did this to him. You ruined him and now he’s ruining you.
“I-I… I love you, Gege… I love this.” You choke out, hoping to atone for what you’ve done to him.
Caleb’s face perks up, gazing into your eyes eagerly, swallowing up the lie he gave you to feed him. “Yeah?” He kisses you then, still overbearing but softer now, his lips molding to yours before he releases your face, his hands sliding to your hips for better leverage. “Like Gege's cock inside your virgin pussy?” He asks for more and more, and you are helpless to do anything but give into his greed.
“Yes... love it so much, Gege.” You shiver, trying to mask the hesitation lingering in your tone so he wouldn’t be rough with you again. You don’t know if you sound convincing or if he’s so far gone he would believe anything he wants to hear from your lips but it becomes easier and easier to lie as the pain gripping your body gives way to a pleasure that is almost as disturbing, his gentler approach forcing your body to yield to him in a wholly different way, but you force yourself not to fight it.
You’ll let him have this tonight. It’s better to think you’ve given it willingly than to face the reality that your brother did this to you.
“Good girl.” He moans out, and although he was fucking you more carefully now, his big cock still burns every time he buries it inside of you, splitting you open from the core. “My good girl. Did you want this? Did you tease me so I'd break and take what is mine?”
Caleb’s face swims through the tears stinging your eyes, making you see two of him—a Caleb who is so overtaken he just wants to pretend that you’d wanted this all along, that he’s not a monster for what he’s doing to you, and a Caleb who is cruel and calculative, who wants you to implicate yourself for his actions so you wouldn’t blame him for this outcome later.
Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t matter. You’ll do it anyway. You'll do anything to not lose the one person who actually loves you—and he knows that too well.
“I did, Gege. I wanted you to take me. I'm sorry.” You weep, your words a balm to his insanity.
“You hurt Gege so bad, pips.” He admonishes, one hand cupping your cheek as he kisses away your tears, his body moving with yours in a slow, intimate pace. “But it's okay. I forgive you.”
“Thank you... “ You cry out, relieved you’ve finally managed to calm him down. You always do. After all, you’re his beloved little sister.
“Does it hurt, baby?” He coos as if he was tending to a bruised knee and not talking about his cock splitting you open.
You nod pitifully, leaning into his touch even as he makes no effort to stop.
“That’s because you’re tensing up, pipsqueak. Relax and open up for me and it’ll feel good.” He coaxes you, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in a steady rhythm. “Your body will learn to recognize this part of me, and soon enough, you’ll be wet at just the sight of me. I’ll make sure of it—train you until you crave your brother’s cock like he needs your pussy.”
His words make you want to recoil. Does he want this to happen again? It won’t be over after tonight?
“Shit, baby, loosen up.” Caleb groans as your body tenses around him at the thought, working him up further.
You grab him by the necklace you’d gifted him when he first started at the DAA—the charm that symbolised your unbreakable connection—and use it to pull him towards you, crashing your lips with his and opening your mouth, knowing he’d take the chance to devour you and you willingly let him, anything so you won’t have to think about this harrowing future he’s fantasizing about.
Caleb groans into your mouth, taking your kiss for consent. His thrusts deepen, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency as he buries himself inside you over and over, the repetitive motions yanking you by the hair and dragging you towards an orgasm you’re not prepared for. You didn’t even know that a human could be in so much pain and yet still be able to cum.
"That's it, pips." He coaxes, his breath hot against your lips, his large body looming over yours, sweaty and flexing, the friction of his pelvis on your clit sending sparks of pleasure shooting along your every nerve. "I can feel your pussy trying to milk my cock. You really want this, huh? You were made for this—for Gege to fuck you senseless."
You whimper, tears streaking in unending torrents down your cheeks but he heeds them no mind. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing in firm, insistent circles that match the rhythm of his cock plunging into your slick pussy. The sensation rapidly becomes overwhelming, your walls clamping around him like a vice as your orgasm hurls towards you. "Caleb... I can't... it's too much." You gasp nails raking down his back, leaving red trails that only spur him on.
"Yes, you can." He insists, thrusting harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the dorm room. "Cum for me, baby—cum on for your Gege."
And your body gives it to him, as if it recognizes that this is your brother who spent all your life giving into your every whim and desire, would you really deny him the first thing he ever asked for?
Your body arches into him, so close you feel you’d get stuck together forever, so close Caleb can’t thrust into you anymore, instead settling for swivelling his hips around, rubbing his cock all along your walls as they grip and contract around him.
"Fuck, pips— so tight, so perfect." His mouth hangs open, his eyes completely glazed over as he bullies his cock so deeply inside you, you swear you can feel the hot cum spilling from it flooding your womb.
Oh god, oh god, you haven’t used any protection.
“Caleb!” You gasp, staring up at him with an icy panic that grips your heart and almost causes it to cease beating.
But Caleb just smiles down at you, knowingly, and kisses your lips—shutting you up every time you try to speak, his cock staying buried inside you, plugging your hole and sealing his seed inside.
Finally, you stop fighting, all the anger, horror and shame draining from your body like blood from a mortal wound, leaving you weak and pliant in his embrace. It’s only then that he pulls away from your bruised lips, his thumb brushing them gently as he speaks his promises to you. “It’s okay, pipsqueak. I’ll take care of you. Every bit of you. No one's ever going to come between us now.”
A/N: I am being driven mad by all the lads fics i wanna write, mostly yandere caleb lol i got two based on chasing summer (one where caleb is a mean, unhinged yandere similar to this one and another where he is a manipulate softer yandere), three not based on a memory (two versions of the same yandere caleb story where he takes all your first times so you don’t give them to someone else, one soft and one mean, and a 3rd one where you’re the yandere who won’t share him with others), one based of xavier’s celestial yearn, one based on raf’s fires of devotion and probably many more ahhhh
content <𝟑 .ᐟ 18+, implied age gap, reader has been around the cody family for awhile but theres no relation to them, TABOO FICTION -> fauxcest between two consenting adults, use of big brother / little sis(ter), slight somnophilia, pet names, dirty talk, degradation / praise, dry humping / grinding, no prep.
andrew is reluctant to share his fantasies with you, despite you being just as depraved as he is. it takes a long time to get things out of him, it’s so difficult for him to swallow down his shame when it comes to sex and intimacy. so you’ve taken to dropping little hints when you have something that you both may enjoy in mind— hints that won’t scare him away or come off as pushy. you’ve learned that he can be flighty and stubborn if you don’t play your cards right.
“you’ve always taken such good care of me,” you mumble, watching him move around his room in nothing but sweats. his skin is freshly tanned from your lounge session by the pool, new freckles forming over his strong shoulders that you want to sink your teeth into over and over. you nearly lose your train of thought, but then he turns to face you with the very beginning of an amused smirk tugging at his lips.
“even before we got together,” you continue. your voice is light as you sit up on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where he stands like a deceivingly cute wildcat stalking some prey, “maybe it sounds weird now, but i realized you were always like a big brother to me…”
you can see him take a moment to process your words. to realize that yeah, he was like a big brother to you at one point in your lives, and it came natural to him. it was him who looked after you, not his own brothers who are closer to your age, who you should have bonded with after all of smurf’s efforts. instead you decided to cling to andrew. you had heart eyes for him since day one and they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, not when he treats you like you’re his whole world.
but still, he can’t help but ask— “where is this coming from?”
“what?” you feign a pout, “i can’t share my thoughts anymore?”
“no, no.” andrew’s hands find your warm face, holding your cheeks in his palms and looking down at you like you’re the most precious object in his room, “you know you can… you little minx.”
at that, you happily meet him halfway when he leans down fully to kiss your awaiting lips. it’s sweet and chaste, and you sigh into it before pulling him down onto the bed with you for your post-swim nap.
the room is bordering on pitch black when your eyes blink open.
everything is warm. so warm. andrew is holding you still, his strong arms are wrapped around your waist as your chest presses against his. you can barely make out his features— just enough to see his eyes meet yours before his stubble rubs against the side of your face and makes you whine sleepily. his hands wander, slipping up the shirt he gave you and into your cotton panties to palm your ass. grabbing and groping just enough to have you gasping into his shoulder.
“i always wanted a little sister, y’know.” andrew confesses, lips moving against the soft skin of your forehead. he speaks over the sound of your breathing picking up, “guess i had one this whole time, huh? i didn’t know that she’d be such a slut, but what can you do?”
“not a slut,” you mumble back weakly. it doesn’t help your case when he presses you into him with his hold on you, forcing you to feel the hard outline of his cock hiding away in his sweats. a whimper immediately falls from your lips, small and raspy from your slumber.
“no?” he breathes back, “i don’t know, baby. i don’t think innocent girls want to be fucked by their big brother.”
before you can protest again or let out a pitiful whine, his lips find yours. the kiss is messy— needy and syrupy with lust that’s been stirring inside of him for the past hour while you were out cold. he had plenty of time to think, plenty of time to touch you and feel how bad you need him even while you rest.
his tongue presses past the seam of your pouty lips, rubbing against your own while you mewl into his mouth and drool pathetically. his hands remain on your plush ass, using his grip as leverage to rock your hips against his own and grind against your already damp panties. he pulls away from your kiss with a groan, knowing your cunt is probably sticky and fluttering around nothing.
the string of saliva that’s faithfully keeping you two connected snaps once he brings himself to speak again.
“fuck— i bet i could slip riiight into your pretty pussy, little sis.” andrew grits out, moving you against him as your thighs shake on either side of his waist, “wanna see if i’m right?”
“andy,” you whimper. you’re far gone, unable to notice the way one of his hands moves to shove his sweats down while his other yanks your ruined panties to the side, balling the wet cotton up in his fist and making it dig into the seam of your thigh as he tugs.
“shh, shh… i know, i know. thinking is hard, huh?” he hushes you, lips moving against yours as he guides his thick cock to slip over your silky folds, “be good ‘n lemme just—”
you gasp in sync when he works himself in with a perfect stroke that has your toes curling already. there’s little resistance as he predicted, but the subtle burn from the stretch is still there. it still makes you tremble and whine against his jaw when he rears his hips back with no warning and presses himself back in, keeping you so close to him that your little huffs and puffs for air mingle with his own.
“good fuckin’ girl,” andrew snarls, guiding your hips to meet his and reveling in the way you just let him. he presses kisses along your face, mumbling to you in an airy voice as you hiccup out your own sugared sounds, “feels like you were made f’me. you were made for your big brother to use, huh?”
your gaze finds his. your eyes are already brimming with tears, you’re already fluttering your lashes as you try your hardest not to let them roll back yet. you’re babbling as if every movement is knocking more words and broken syllables out of you.
“made for you,” you repeat dumbly, digging your nails into his shoulders until he hisses above your ear, “i love you— i love you s’much, love being your little sis.”
andrew nearly floods your tight cunt in that very second but he steels himself, pinning your sleep heavy body to his own and cooing, “that’s it, sweet pea. gonna take such good care of you, like i always have.”
Your Uncle Robby had a huge tub that went unused most of the time, and he always told you to feel free to use it. He just happens to accidently walk in on you on a day where you’re using it.
CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, pseudo-cest, unprotected piv,
Uncle Robby, who wasn’t really your uncle, but instead just your fathers old college roommate. He was always Uncle Robby, even when your family moved to Seattle after your father got an offer for chief of surgery and the only communication was phone and video calls. He was still Uncle Robby when you were 25 and moving back to Pittsburgh after applying to a pediatric nursing position. Even after the fact it was the first time you had spoken to him in over ten years.
But even after all that time the moment you walked in with your delicate pink scrub bottoms and cartoon scrub top, he greeted you with a ‘what do you think you’re doing here kid, your dad know what you’re doing?’.
Yeah, it had been a while since you’d seen him. And the rasp of his voice and the way age seemed to have settled on him had you seeing him in a whole new light. Telling him all about how you had accepted a job on the pedes floor as a new day shift nurse, citing that you had missed Pittsburgh. It took a few weeks to get acquainted with being so far from family but you were grateful that you had Robby. He had told you multiple times to always feel free to stop by his place for any reason. You joked and asked if that applied to just using the gorgeous tub in his ensuite bathroom, and without hesitation he told you yes.
It was something you laughed off for a while, but after the last three shifts it was starting to look much better. So gathering up a small bag of toiletries and pajamas you made your way over to his place knowing he was stuck at the hospital. That knowledge gave you a little confidence, having the massive space to yourself. Turning on the stereo and connecting your phone you began to fill the tub as music played. Stripping your clothes off you made the last minute decision to grab yourself a glass of wine from the expensive bottles you knew he kept and some snacks. You didn’t bother to cover up seeing as he wasn’t home, so you made your way down and into the kitchen in all your glory grabbing everything you saw that looked good.
However, Robby just so happened to forget to mention that he had cameras set up around the house. Something he was praising himself for when he got a motion alert inside his house, pulling out his phone he clicked the app and found himself tenting the front of his pants. There in his kitchen was a very clear view of your ass as you were bent over rifling through his fridge without a care in the world. And it only got better when you straightened up and turned around, giving him an eyeful of your breasts and the light trail of dark trimmed curls that covered the place he wanted to bury his face into.
The sight had him shooting a text to Jack asking him to cover him for the last hour and a half of his shift saying something personal came up. Jack, being none the wiser and a good friend, accepted immediately. Even telling him that he hopes everything works out as he watched his friend all but sprint out of the doors.
When he arrived at the house he was so grateful that you parked in the garage hiding your car from immediate view which made it easier for him to ‘stumble’ upon you in his bathroom. Dropping his bag at the front he quickly and quietly began making his way up the stairs. Putting on an exhausted look in his face before creating a whole act of indifference as he opened the door to the bathroom. Where the sweetest squeak left your lips when you saw him come in.
“Woah sorry kid didn’t know you were here!” He did a poor job of hiding the lust from his eyes before directing them up to the ceiling.
“U-uncle Robby, I’m so sorry I thought you were still working” you began to scoop the bubbles as close to your body as possible to hide what you could.
“Yeah I was but Jack offered to cover the last bit since it was a rough one,” he drops his head down in mock exhaustion and rubbed the back of his neck, the motion that told you just how tired he was.
“Oh well give me two seconds and I can be out of your hair an-”
“No that's not necessary, you look so relaxed” he lets out a sigh before shrugging his shoulders, “I mean, I could always join you? Would save me time in re-doing everything”
“Well I don’t kn-”
“I won’t even look I promise, keep my eyes closed the entire time” He interrupted you once more trying to get you to agree.
“Okay, sure. I guess that would be okay”
Wasting no time he watched as you innocently closed your own eyes as he took off his scrubs before telling you to scoot forward. Which had you a bit confused on how he was going to sit on the other side with you in the middle. A question that was answered when you felt the spread of his body coming in behind you, his hands grabbing your arms and pulling you towards him. Your back rested against his chest as you stayed as stiff as a board.
“Uhm, Uncle Robby I-I don’t think this is appropriate” your voice came out breathier than you had meant for it to. The feel of him pressed up behind you had your words and thoughts scrambled together.
“Shh it's okay, we’re just helping each other relax. It can be our little secret” His hands were trailing up and down your arms before he slipped one under and across your stomach “don’t you want to help me?”
That same hand that had been wandering across your abdomen dipped down, sinking a finger into your folds that he had been drooling over since he first saw you on the cameras. Gently working his middle finger around your clit before pushing into you just until the first knuckle was snug inside. Your head tipped back onto his shoulder, mouth dropping open into a small ‘O’. A grip on your chin turned your head enough so that his rough beard was grazing your cheek as he tangled your lips together. It was slow and deep, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth. All while he sank his finger all the way in and thrusting it to the same pace as his tongue in your mouth.
After slipping a second finger in, that had you moaning into his mouth at the stretch. The clench of your walls and the slow grind your hips had begun was making him lose control. With no restraint left he suddenly pulled out gripping your sides and pushing you forwards, your hands quickly coming up to brace yourself on the edge of the tub. His body follows yours closely, his own arms coming beside yours caging you in and his thighs on either side of yours. His heavy cock resting on the curve of your back as he pressed up behind you. With a tight grip he lined himself up with your cunt and in one fluid thrust filled you up completely.
“OH FUCK!” your grip had almost given out at the sheer blinding force from him, “s’big hold o-on”
“You can take it big girl, you can do it for your Uncle Robby can’t you” The small nod that you gave was enough for him to start at a rough pace. One that had water splashing over the rim of the tub and onto the floor of the bathroom. One that had your stomach tightening quicker than it ever had, not by your own hand nor previous partners.
“Look at you already drooling over your Uncle Robby’s cock,” his hand grips your face once more squishing your cheeks and forcing your eyes forward into the mirror where you could see yourself, “What would your dad say knowing you gave in so easily, allowing me to fuck you like a slut”
“U-uncle Ro-obby pl-lease” those were the only words you could manage, tears falling down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you with a hoarse scream. But he didn’t slow down not even a little.
“Please what? Cum inside, sure,” pushing your upper body over the lip of the tub your arms dangled as your strength gave out, “And what are we gonna tell your dad when you're swollen and round with my kid hmm?”
His words had your body barreling into a second orgasm in record time as Robby had your hips in a bruising grip using your body as he chased his end. It wasn’t long before he was emptying himself inside of you, an almost endless supply of cum pooling deep within you. Pulling out he watches your swollen cunt flutter around the loss and a small drip of his cum leak out. Taking two fingers he collected the escaped fluid and pushed it back in.
After tucking you into his bed and cleaning up the bathroom he laid beside you and watched your slumbering figure. And some sick part of him couldn’t wait until everyone knew you were his. The look on your dad’s face and the judging stares of his co-workers who had heard you call him Uncle Robby many times were conjured in his head, all of which had his cock stiffening once more. Yeah he wasn’t letting you go.
art creds: @/ggyoyowza on tt
SUMMARY
Where you find that your new step-brother, Gojo Satoru, is adorable. At least you think so. He might be a little too protective and pushy - and maybe he has some issues with respecting your space. But adorable nonetheless. Right?
PAIRING | Yandere Step-Brother!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (slightly older)
GENRE | Taboo Romance, Dark Romance (Yandere), Romance, College AU, Non-Curse/Sorcerer AU
RATING | 18+ / MATURE
WC | 5.8k
a/n | something extremely light that i started on company time, please b kind to me
CONTENT WARNINGS
stepcest/psuedo-incest, taboo relationship, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, unhealthy/toxic/protective/obsessive behavior, sexual assault, non-consensual kisses, non-consensual touching, slight nerdjo but not too much, he's honestly just a brat in this
You think your new step-brother is adorable.
When you had first met him he was unapproachable - a little more than 'slightly intimidating' as his mother, your new step-mom, put it.
The day he moved in you were practically ignored as you introduced yourself. Sure, he was looking down at you from his towering height, holding your gaze and huffing a small greeting in response, but you could tell he wanted nothing more than to brush past you in silence and start unpacking in his new room.
And you understood that. It sucks having to move - especially moving in with people you don't know.
You and your father had moved twice between two different states before settling down in your current house. The environment shift is jarring to say the least; having to make new friends, constantly looking up directions, and experiencing culture shocks.
You wanted to prove that you were harmless and respectful towards him - it only made sense as you would be his older sister now. He was two years younger than you, starting his second semester of his freshman year in university - while you considered yourself nothing more than a part-time employed freeloader with little ambition under your dad's house.
Unfortunately, your dad is either too nice to tell his own daughter to start planning for the future, or he just loves your presence in general - it didn't hurt less when your new step-mom asked what you were wanting to do in the future during the first dinner with everyone seated together. Your face paled slightly, your heart hammering in embarrassment against your ribs, as you basically admitted you had nothing planned, just 'feeling out options'.
It did make you feel slightly better when Satoru told his mom that he'd do the same if she didn't basically threaten him to go to college. His voice was apprehensive as he spoke, as if he was unsure how to speak in front of you and your dad, but it still had a teasing lilt to it that made his mother visibly roll her eyes. Both of them bickering back and forth as if they were siblings themselves.
You weren't sure if he was saying that to lighten the mood, but it made the dinner more comfortable afterwards.
You decided to give Satoru space to acclimate to his new house.
Your coworkers said that you were practically acting as if you were the one who had just moved in after you explained your internally devised plan.
You disagreed, of course.
You made sure to not be too active in his personal life. You figured that once he was comfortable enough he'd tell you on his own. You didn't want to trap him into conversations he didn't want to be part of, but would have to be as it's polite.
You totally get that having to force yourself to talk to someone new isn't exactly pleasant.
You kept your questions or answers curt and direct, as if you were responding to someone higher in command.
'Where's my mom?' He asked one night, you heard him drop his backpack onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. He must've just returned from classes.
'Not sure,' you hummed, 'probably out with my dad.'
Silence sat between you both save for the television chiming with a random advertisement.
'Gotcha,' he finally huffs out, somewhat apprehensive in his tone.
You hear rustling behind you from the connected kitchen, but you don't turn around - you don't want him to think you were watching his every move.
'Where do you guys keep your silverware again?' You hear the wooden-plastic creak of drawers sliding in and out.
'Right of the fridge, first drawer,' you responded.
'Oh.' Another drawer is pulled with the rattle and clink of steel against steel before a final roll following with the deep thud of a drawer being shut. 'Thanks.'
You only hummed in response, clicking through the channels on the television until it landed on one that was halfway through a movie that you enjoyed.
You can hear more noises behind you from the kitchen before footsteps lead and stop right behind you. The familiar sound of a spoon scraping against molars and teeth crunching on cereal is heard behind you.
You could feel his presence looming over you as he spoke through the food crunching in his mouth.
'Do you like this movie?' he had asked. You could hear him take another bite.
'Yeah.'
Silence filled the room once more. The heavy and dramatic sounds from the TV filled it in.
'Gotcha,' he'd said, another bite right after. 'You're not working today?'
'Nope.' You had gently emphasized the 'p' with the pop of your lips.
'Gotcha.'
The conversation ended swiftly after that. He had mentioned something about a project being due this week before he made his escape to his room.
You made sure not to impose too much onto his personal space - which was a struggle considering your rooms were right across from each other, both of you sharing one bathroom. But your irregular hours from your part-time job coupled with him having days where his classes would stretch into the late afternoon made it a lot easier than you expected. Your opposing schedules meant you rarely crossed paths, and the bathroom was almost always vacant. You'd even intentionally stay in your room when he was leaving, just to avoid those awkward hallway moments.
There were moments when curiosity gnawed at you - small windows into his life that you deliberately chose not to pry open. You'd overhear him on the phone with someone, his voice dropping into something softer, more animated than his usual monotone, and you'd wonder who it was. A friend? Someone more? You never asked. You'd notice him coming home some days with his shoulders tense, his jaw set tight, clearly stressed about something academic or otherwise, and the urge to ask 'rough day?' would sit on your tongue. But you'd swallow it down.
There were the little things too - the way he'd linger in the living room on certain evenings, or how he'd disappear into his room for hours on end, or the occasional laugh you'd hear through the walls that made you curious about what could possibly be funny enough to crack through that carefully maintained exterior. You could have asked about his classes, his friends, whether he was seeing anyone. The questions felt natural, the kind of thing a sibling might ask. But you held back, understanding that asking was a form of imposing when he'd already been forced into enough - a new house, a new family, a new routine.
So instead, you let him come to you. You made space for him to share without pressure, without the weight of expectation. It was part of your larger strategy, you realized - this careful dance of presence without intrusion.
You'd be lying if you didn't pat yourself on the back for your patience.
You'd hope one day he actually did see you as his sister.
And you think that, maybe, now - almost his third month living with you - you had achieved it. Albeit, a little too well.
You assumed that he'd warm up to you by this time as well.
You could tell by how the conversations would flow naturally and consistently, sometimes even prolonging to the point where you'd thought the conversation had ended seven different times before Satoru has another related or unrelated question spilling from his mouth. He'd go off on tangents about whatever documentary he watched that week, or some obscure fact about game theory he learned in class, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained concepts you only half-understood. You'd nod along and he'd keep going, clearly just happy to have someone listening.
He'd often go out with you if he saw that you were pulling your shoes on for something other than your job. The words 'where 'ya headed' were so common to hear that even his mother began to chide him. Telling him that 'she doesn't need a bodyguard everywhere she goes'.
He would get frustrated especially when his mother would butt in. His face flushing with a deep red as he's trying to either justify himself coming with or convincing you to stay home.
It was adoring to say the least, but excruciatingly painful at times when you needed to go out alone to meet up with friends he didn't know or shopping for items you'd rather he not be present for. You think you're just too weak to him and his antics, constantly employing some form of psychological torture on you whenever you told him he couldn't come.
'What? Who're you meeting with? I'm fine with meeting new people.'
'You don't wanna' hang out with me?'
'Are you going to meet up with a drug dealer or somethin'? Because I can come for that too, I guess.'
'I wanted to go with you though.'
'You haven't ate, right? Let's get lunch. I'm literally starving and you can't let me starve.'
'I had a shit-day at school. Can I just come with? Please?'
'You don't have to go, right? Like it's not urgent?'
'Wow. Leaving me to die, I guess.'
'If I don't come you hate me and want me to die.'
'You don't have an issue with me coming. Right?
'So then I can come.'
Your heartstrings are too thin, nearly weightless, and much too easy to pull whenever the playful and pearly-like smile from his face drops, the glint in his blue eyes dulling by a fraction. Sometimes his face contorting into a questioning look, an eyebrow raising behind his glasses, as if you were caught sneaking out of the house at twelve in the afternoon. It's as if he especially knew you were weak when he'd pout, his tone either begging or prickling with kid-like annoyance as he spoke with a hurt expression that often ranged from acceptable to overly dramatic.
You can't help it when you finally relent on most days you didn't want him to come along. Cursing yourself internally as your car hums to life with the turn of your key. He's happily sliding into the passenger seat with a hum, already reaching for your phone to play a song. You don't even question the fact that he knows your password as you've probably done it in front of him or just told him in passing.
It was just harder to explain to your friends that this tall, lanky boy with sharply defined features, naturally platinum-white hair, and bright blue eyes was your brother - always having to clarify he was your step-brother. That he just happened to be tagging along for today, and perhaps the next few hangouts after that if he'd catch you.
Your friends, obviously awe-struck with seeing a natural beauty that's your brother, do tell you it's slightly odd that he's always glued to your side. Always talking to you as if he was the happiest man alive. Always physically attached to you, hands dancing near your hips and waist, palms rubbing circles into your back, his entire body pressed into your side or from behind you.
You agree. It is a little weird.
You do think that he warmed up to you a little too fast. However, you always explain to them that perhaps he's unsure of how to treat a sibling as he's never had one before. That with time he will slowly realign himself as he realizes how weird his own behavior is.
You're just not sure when it'll happen, because you're far too afraid to scold him for his behavior. What if it ruins your relationship with him? What if it makes living in the same house awkward until either you or him move out first? What if he tells his mother and she begins to hate you?
You're not even sure if your father or his mother are aware of how present he is in your life and your space.
Your literal physical space.
As he is currently splayed out on your bed, an arm folded behind his head onto the pillow as he lays there in complete silence, his free hand holding his phone upright on his chest as he scrolls lazily.
You're sitting upright next to him with a blanket pulled around you, scrolling with the same half-interest he's exuding, eyeing him with caution every once in a while when he shifts.
As if going through phases, he'd choose to scroll through his phone before deciding his phone isn't interesting enough and will tuck his head into the back of your seated position, his long arms coming to drape themselves around your hip. Then, as if getting bored, he'd go right back to his phone, sometimes his phone chiming with a notification here and there.
You didn't mind as much. Ever since a certain point he would just naturally seat himself flushed against you.
It had begun at the dinner table, you'd noticed he was scooting his chair closer into your side until your elbows would be battling for the space. Then, he'd drop himself down right next to you onto the couch if you were in the living room, often falling asleep on you or his head in your lap, some days not a word would be said as he would do so.
Now, he recently discovered your room - or more of the fact that you allow him to come in.
You think it's cute. Cute in the way a cat is. Like, he wants attention or someone near him, but he won't be completely direct with it.
You think you're doing really well to solidify the image of his older sister.
"I thought you wanted to check my computer," you finally spoke into the white noise emitting from the AC in your room, you absently scroll through posts on your feed, tune after tune being cut-off as you scroll.
"I did," he replies effortlessly, his hands moving with ease along his phone's screen, before he's pushing his glasses back up his nose with an awkward arm gesture.
You hum. "What for? Like, school - or games? Because I think I have some games." You try to remember some of the titles you have downloaded.
"Dunno'," he says, his eyes shift over to your simple computer set-up. "You have games on there?"
"Yeah, but you probably won't like my type of games."
"I mean, I actually don't mind those cooking simulators or whatever." He adjusts his glasses again. "They help prepare you for the future, y'know - heavy on the 'you' part."
You shoot him a look that barely borders on mean. You pinch his skin through his shirt and his hands shoot out to grab you with a laugh teasing at his lips.
"Okay, okay - joke," he says breathlessly when he finally manages to hold your hand away from pinching him, his phone discarded somewhere around him on your bed. "Mostly joking."
You roll your eyes, your mouth opens to tell him to check whatever he needs on your computer so you can have the entirety of your bed to yourself again, but your phone sings a familiar tune that Satoru slightly perks up to. Especially, when your mouth closes as you read the message.
"Who is it? Mom?" He questions lightly, his body is turned into you with his face pressed into your back once more. When he speaks you can feel him speaking into your skin through your shirt.
You barely register his words as you read the message over and over, red heat and excitement beginning to bubble under your skin.
A coworker you had a slight interest in asked if you wanted to come hang out with some other of your coworkers.
"Uh - no," you finally say. Your fingers immediately moving across the screen, and then deleting the typed words. "Just check my computer for whatever you need - don't download viruses."
"I'm not an idiot," he bites back with a playful tone. However, when he moves away from you to look at his phone once more, he must've noticed your expression as he's quickly sitting up to look at your phone too. "What's wrong? Is it your dad?"
You turn away from him, phone angled out of his view immediately. Not wanting him to see how much you were failing to coolly respond to your coworker, and the fact that Satoru might bully you. It took him a week or two in the past to stop bringing up how ugly your ex-boyfriend was. Even at the dinner table.
He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. His finger goes up to push up his glasses by the corner of the frames.
"Alright," he says, you try not to note the edge to his tone. "Who the fuck is it? You trading government secrets that I can't see? Because that's illegal. And also boring."
You finally manage to respond despite how close Satoru is pushing closer to you.
You hope that your coworker wasn't actively watching your typing bubble agonize over your own response.
"It's no one," you huff out. "Hurry up and do whatever you need on my computer so I can actually use my own bed."
"Not my fault your bed is small," he quips. "If it's no one then lemme see."
He shifts closer near you, the side of his body flushed against your side to get a look at your phone. You immediately swipe out of message history and turn your phone off.
"No."
"So, it's a someone then."
"No. Well - yes - maybe," you relent. "But I don't want you to read the text messages between me and him."
Satoru goes completely still against you. You can feel the exact moment his entire body tenses.
"Him," he repeats flatly. Not a question. A statement. A very pointed statement.
"Yes, him," you say, biting back a smile. "A person. Of the male variety."
"Cool. Cool, cool, cool." He's not looking at you anymore, instead staring straight ahead at your darkened phone screen like it personally offended him. His jaw works for a second before he speaks again. "So like - is this someone I know?"
"No."
"Oh." He shifts, and you can practically feel the gears turning. "So it's like... a random person? Someone just hit you up out of nowhere?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"That's actually weird though," he says, and there's genuine concern threading through his voice now. "Like, that's a whole situation. Random guys don't just message people. That's sketchy. You don't know what he wants or like - what his deal is."
"Oh my god, are you serious right now?"
"I'm being serious! What if you go over to his house and he's like, got people tied up in his basement then he tells you you're next. It happens more than you think - I saw this whole documentary about it."
"Oh my god, Satoru," you groan with the roll of your eyes. "It's a guy from work, not on the FBI watchlist."
He goes quiet for a moment, and you watch his fingers drum against his thigh - another tell that he's working through something. "Oh. From work. Well, workplace relationships statistically crash and burn. It's like - proven data. Bad combo."
You raise your eyebrow. "Based on what data?"
"Reality. Realistic data called common sense." He pushes his glasses up again, more aggressively this time. "And like, basic probability."
"Not every workplace relationship is going to 'crash and burn'."
"Okay, but like - ninety percent of them do. I saw it on a documentary." He's talking faster now, his hands gesturing wildly in that way he does when he's getting worked up about something. "And then you have to see them every day after it implodes and it's awkward and someone always ends up crying in the supply closet. Do you want to be the supply closet crier? Because that's how you become the supply closet crier."
"There is no supply closet at my job."
"Then the bathroom. The parking lot. Wherever you people cry at your work - that'll be you." He's leaning closer now, his shoulder pressing into yours with more insistence.
You have to physically bite your tongue to keep from laughing.
He shifts his weight, and you feel him crane his neck slightly - not obvious, but obvious enough that you notice. His glasses slip down a bit and he pushes them back up with an irritated huff.
"Is he like - older than you? Because if he's significantly older that's a whole different red flag situation and I'm just saying that as someone who cares about your general wellbeing and safety. Age gaps have like, documented power imbalances."
"He's around my age," you offer, watching as his jaw clenches.
"Around. So not exactly your age."
"Satoru."
"What? I'm just - is he like, taking advantage of you or something?" His voice drops, and there's genuine concern threading through, but it's wrapped in that slightly dorky earnestness that's so distinctly him. "Because you can tell me. Like, as a trusted adult. I'm serious."
You stare at him. "You're the last person I'd consider a trusted adult."
"I - okay, that's fair, but - "
"You literally tried to convince me that my coworker had people in his basement five minutes ago."
He shifts closer, pressing his shoulder against yours with more force now. "That's different. That's just like, healthy skepticism based on actual crime statistics. This is - if something's wrong, you should tell me. I'm here for that."
There's a beat of silence before he continues, quieter. "I mean, how long have you been talking to this dude?"
"Not really talking," you sigh. "I mean, I work with him, but we recently started texting a few weeks ago."
"A few weeks and you didn't mention it," he says quietly. There's something almost hurt underneath the casual tone, and when you glance at him his ears are turning red. "That's cool. That's - yeah, that's fine."
"Alright, didn't know I suddenly had a second dad," you tease.
"I'm not - that's not what I'm doing," he says immediately, too quickly, his ears flushing deeper. "I'm just like, looking out for you. That's different. I don't even know who this guy is, so he could be a total loser for all I know. Probably is, actually."
"You don't know anything about him."
"Exactly. Which is why you should tell me so I can like, properly assess whether he's worth your time." He finally glances at you, and there's something swimming in his blue eyes behind his glasses - something intense that doesn't quite match the casual tone he's forcing. "I'm a trusted person to you - a trusted step-brother." The way he says it, there's something bitter underneath, a slight edge to those last two words that you don't quite catch.
You're definitely smiling now, and you can feel him notice because his ears are turning redder.
"It's fine." You draw out your words. "It's not like me and him are even anything, he basically just asked me to hangout with some other coworkers."
"So, I can come with then is what I'm hearing."
"I said coworkers."
"Tell them I'm a former employee."
"Coworkers."
He lets out a guttural groan, throwing himself back against your bed that makes the cushioned fabric ripple under you, you don't miss the way he's eyeing your phone like it personally wronged him. His hand comes up to drag down his face in frustration.
You'll have to carefully plan how you'll leave the house that day to avoid him pressuring you into tagging along.
"For weeks," he speaks aloud, his voice slightly muffled behind his hand. "And not a single word about this guy."
"Considering you don't talk about anyone you're talking to, I think that's fair."
"Because I'm not," he says flatly, dropping his hand to look at you.
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say," you dismiss with a gentle hand wave.
"No - I'm not though." He sits up, his voice getting that sharp edge to it, the one that comes out when he's genuinely frustrated. "You can even check my phone if you want. I'm serious. Go ahead."
"Satoru, I don't care - "
"You clearly do, or you wouldn't be - " He stops himself, jaw clenching. His fingers drum against his thigh again, faster this time. "I'm not talking to anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone."
"It's really fine, it's okay."
"I'm talking to you."
"Well, yes, right now you are," you hum. "But I mean like, y'know, a girlfriend or a boyfriend - like romantically."
"I don't see how it's any different." He's looking at you now, direct and unwavering in a way that makes something uncomfortable shift in your chest.
"I'm your sister," you say flatly.
He scoffs in a way that feels mean, adjusting his glasses with more force than necessary. "Not by blood."
His words begin to settle deep into your skin, fogging up your thoughts until you're at a standstill. You try not to register what he's implying, because surely he couldn't be implying what you think he is. Your eyebrows furrow into each other, lines of skin forming as your confusion settles over.
"Yes, not by blood," you agree haphazardly. "But - we're still family - well, I mean, I consider us family. I hope you finally - "
The words die in your mouth - or rather, they're muffled under the sheer force of his own lips on yours.
It happens so fast you don't even process it at first. One second you're mid-sentence, the next his mouth is pressed against yours - not gentle, not tentative, but hard. Demanding. Your eyes fly open in shock and you try to jerk back, but his hand is already at the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, gripping tight to hold you in place. The sound that comes from his throat is desperate, needy - a whimper that vibrates against your lips.
"Satoru - " you try to say against his mouth, but it comes out muffled. You push at his chest hard, palms flat, shoving with everything you've got, but he's leaning into you - his weight forcing you backward until your spine hits your mattress. You twist your head to the side, gasping, trying to break the kiss, but he follows, his hand gripping tighter in your hair.
What the fuck is going on?
He's so much bigger than you and the angle is all wrong and you can't breathe properly. The frames of his glasses dig into the bridge of your nose, cold metal and hard plastic pressing uncomfortably as he kisses you harder. There's nothing romantic about it - it's aggressive, almost violent. He's making those sounds again, whimpering like he's in pain, like he can't help himself.
"Stop - Satoru, stop - " Your voice comes out panicked, higher than normal. You're clawing at his shoulders, trying to create any kind of distance, but he's got you pinned. His hand slides under your shirt and you flinch hard, your whole body going rigid.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, his chest heaving against yours. His eyes behind his glasses - pupils blown wide, barely any blue left. Then he's diving back in, kissing you with desperate hunger. "You're - god, you're so pretty," he gasps between kisses, his voice raw and shaking but still distinctly him, still carrying that edge of confidence underneath. "You're really pretty and I - " He cuts himself off, pressing his forehead against yours before going back in, kissing you like he's been holding back for months and finally snapped.
"Please don't hate me," he whimpers against your lips, going in for another kiss, deeper this time. His hand tightens in your hair. "I'll be really good to you, I swear - just don't hate me for this."
His palm slides higher under your shirt, massaging exposed skin. The touch makes you flinch - his fingers are warm, almost hot, and they're moving possessively. You try to twist away but his other hand is still in your hair, keeping your head still, and his body is a solid weight pinning you down. You can feel him grinding against your hip with every desperate breath he takes.
"Get off - " you manage to choke out, and you open your eyes.
He's staring directly at you. Those blown-wide pupils, barely any blue left - but the look in them is calculated. Aware. He knows exactly what he's doing. He pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, and lets out another whimper that sounds almost pained, but there's something else there too - satisfaction.
He goes in for another kiss, softer for just a moment - almost tender - before it deepens again. "I thought I could wait just a bit longer," he breathes against your lips, his voice cracking but still carrying that thread of control underneath.
Tears are already burning at the corners of your eyes.
His hand slides higher. You can feel the tips of his fingers graze the bottom wiring of your bra, his touch demanding.
"You can touch me too," he says, and there's an edge to it - not quite a question, more like a demand wrapped in something almost playful despite the desperation.
His hands find yours, trying to guide them down his chest, but you're already pulling back, fingers curling into fists. You wrench your hands away, twisting your wrists hard, but he's stronger - he's so much stronger - and he's got them pinned against his body with purpose.
"No - don't - " you gasp out, struggling, but he keeps pulling with an iron grip, forcing your resistance downward until your hands are pressed against the front of his sweats.
The shape of him is obvious through the fabric - hard and straining. He grinds into your touch with intention, a low sound escaping his throat that's somewhere between a groan and a laugh, slightly manic but controlled.
"This is wrong, Satoru," you manage to say, voice weak and bordering on a sob. You're trying to pull your hands away, clenching your fists tight, but he's got them pinned there, forcing you to feel him through the sweats as he rocks against your palms with deliberate pressure.
"I know - I know it's wrong," he breathes out, but there's no remorse in his voice - just acknowledgment, like he's stating a fact that doesn't matter. Like he's thought this through and decided it's worth it anyway.
Before you can say anything else, he crashes his mouth against yours again.
This kiss is even more aggressive. His teeth catch your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, and when you gasp he takes the opportunity to deepen it, tongue pushing past your lips with bruising intensity. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back at an angle that makes your neck strain, while the other keeps your palm pressed firmly against his erection.
You twist your head sharply, trying to break away, but he follows - relentless. Your hands are still trapped and you're pulling, really pulling, fingers curling into fists as you try to wrench free.
It's useless. He's so much stronger and he knows it.
You're pushing against his chest with your shoulder, your whole body rigid, but he just leans into you harder, pinning you deeper into the mattress. Your legs kick slightly, instinctive, panicked - trying to shift your weight, to get leverage, anything.
He's panting into your mouth, making these desperate little sounds that vibrate through your chest, but underneath it all there's still that thread of awareness, of control.
"I know," he repeats between kisses, the words hot and wet against your lips. "I know, but I don't care - can't care - " Another kiss, this one so forceful it makes your head spin.
You turn your face away again, gasping for air, your neck straining against his grip in your hair. This time you note the soft click of his tongue when his lips leave yours once more from your abrupt movement.
A knock at the door breaks through the moment.
"Hey kids, dinner's ready!" Your dad's voice, muffled through the wood. Cheerful and oblivious. "Is Satoru in there too?"
You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your throat has closed up entirely.
Your eyes dart to him. He's still on top of you, still holding you down, and there's something in his expression that makes your stomach drop. Like he's curious what you'll do. Like he wants you to try.
The fear is suffocating. Worse than his weight, worse than the ache in your wrists. You can't think, can't do anything but lie there with tears spilling over.
Satoru pulls back just enough to look at the door when the silence prolongs from your side. His hand is still under your shirt, and he gives one last, deliberate press of his cock against your leg before stilling completely. You can see him thinking, calculating.
"Yeah!" he calls out, and his voice is so normal it makes your skin crawl. Confident. Calm. Just slightly breathless like he'd been laughing at something funny. "We'll be down in a second!"
"Alright, don't take too long - we're waiting on you guys!"
Footsteps retreating down the hall.
Satoru looks back at you, his glasses hanging low off his nose at this point with the deep heaves of his chest. A grin begins to settle onto his expression despite the red that blooms tirelessly along the cheeks of his face.
now for my next trick i will write yan brother in law sukuna ! <3 that or f#%$&!@? harlequin silly :p lmk if you enjoyed it!!!
i’ve been craving an icky, pervy pussy inspection with some fauxcest. i don’t care who you write for girl i just need it
xoxo
~1.2k words ft. gross & nasty stepdad!jack abbot x fem!reader. 18+ MDNI. pussy inspection. coercion & corruption. reader is a virgin. forgive me for this is not my best work. i’ve been in the absolute worst writer’s block of my life 😖
it isn’t normal that the first thing you hear from your stepfather when you come home from university is a command to go upstairs, undress, and wait for him on the bed.
but it’s something that you’ve gotten used to in the past two years, and it’s too late to care about it now, seeing as you’re about to graduate in a few months.
you’re home for winter break, and like always, your mother isn’t here to greet you after the long drive. she’s off somewhere, doing something, and will probably make up for her absence with a gift she brings back.
it’s okay, though. you doubt she would approve of the ritual you and her husband share, and it’s better that she’s not here for it.
jack’s only been in your life since you were eighteen, but he stepped into his role as your father quite seamlessly. your mother couldn’t have married a more perfect man. jack is an emergency physician. a decorated veteran. a loaded and handsome, handsome man. your mother is truly lucky to have him as her husband.
and you’re so lucky to have a stepfather who cares so much about you that he would forgo convention.
when jack was told by your mother that you’re a virgin two winters ago—her upper lips are as loose as her lower ones, he once said to you jokingly—he started the practice of inspecting your pussy to make sure that fact doesn’t change.
he explained that the heartbreak of giving your innocence to someone who would later stomp on it—as most college boys would do—would not be worth it.
it’s better to wait for that someone special to take your virginity, and you don’t want to find out what will happen to you if you don’t. jack is a kind man, but he has an air of authority that you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of.
by the time jack is in the bedroom with you, you’re undressed with your hands holding your legs by the crooks of their knees, spreading yourself open.
you’re not sure why you have to be entirely naked for a lower body inspection, but you don’t mind being in the nude. if anyone has the right to see your tits, it’s your stepfather.
you’re family. or so he reminds you. you recall being adamantly against this whole ordeal back then when it first started, but the memory is fuzzy now. this may be strange, wrong even, but it’s not like he’s being unfaithful to your mother.
you’re his stepdaughter. he’s just being kind and looking out for you in his own, unique way—
“fuck, what a pretty sight,” he grunts out as he closes in on you, running a single, thick finger over your inner thigh and making you shiver, “i always forget how perfect your body is, baby. let’s see if that cunt is still intact too.”
—and if he gets caught up in a storm of lust, that’s just him being a man. but he’d never do anything uncouth.
he gets down on his knees, kneeling on the pillow that you placed on the floor beforehand. the cushion is easier on his residual limb, and he’s always a little more gentle with you when he’s not in pain.
his hands frame your folds, and then he spreads them apart. the first time jack peeled you open like this you were a flustered mess, but now, you don’t even blink.
you do feel sticky down there, though. but that’s normal. he told you so.
i’m a physician. doing these inspections is also a good way to check on the health of your vagina. better me than some stranger, right?
he also told you that there is a surefire way to tell if someone with a vagina has had sex. the presence of an intact hymen proves virginity, for one, but apparently there’s some other trick of the trade you’re not aware of that can as well.
it does seem unlikely, but what do you know? jack is the physician in the family, and you haven’t taken a health class since the ninth grade.
he takes his time looking at your pussy. he observes how your slick gathers and leaks down the cleft of your ass onto the sheets and how your hole clenches when he makes the offhand your pussy is so goddamn wet comment.
what was it that he said the last time?
a pretty, fertile thing like you needs to be careful. any man virile enough could knock you up. good thing you’re not spreading these legs anytime soon, right, sweetheart?
that affected you more than you would have liked to admit.
jack hums in satisfaction after his visual examination, then shoves one, two, three of his fingers knuckle-deep into your hole, testing something or other.
“virgins like you are so tight, aren’t they?” he asks suddenly, wiggling his fingers inside of you. he groans, and you feel your face start to heat.
maybe he just missed you a lot this time around. there’s no other way to explain how much he seems to enjoy feeling your walls clench down on his fingers and how his other hand moves to palm his crotch.
your expression morphs to one of confusion, and he explains, “that’s a good thing. whoever you have your first time with will be very happy.” he bends down and gives your clit a little kiss and then pulls his fingers out of you. “you’ve been good. still a virgin.”
“for how much longer?” you grumble. “for the rest of my life?”
jack huffs. “there’s no need to rush these things, sweetheart. you’ll thank me for doing this later.”
“no, i know. i am thankful... i guess.” you shake your head and sigh. “just ignore me.”
he stands and sits by your side on the bed, and you let go of your legs to curl up beside him. he rubs a hand up and down your back in a gentle motion. he’s silent for a moment, but then he asks, “what if i took your virginity, sweetheart? would you want that?”
you turn your head up to look at him with wide eyes. “what?”
“i’ll make it special. won’t have to worry about having a bad first time. and i can show you what sex is supposed to be like.”
your heart races. this is...
“but... how about mom?”
“don’t worry about her,” he replies simply. “let’s just keep this between us, alright?”
you think for a second. if there’s anyone you can count on to give you a good first time… it’s jack. and he’s just trying to set a good example for what you should expect with an actual partner in the future, right?
“i’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. i promise.” his hand trails down to your rump and squeezes a cheek in emphasis.
“okay…” you trail off, ignoring the sight of his cock swelling, big and thick and trapped inside of his jeans. “i guess it wouldn’t hurt to do it with someone i’m comfortable with.”
“good.” he smirks. “guess your stepdad’s the one you’re going to make very happy today, huh?”
yan!batfam catching batsib!reader masturbating and buying them sex toys to help them out.
this goes in hand with this other post i'm writing where yan!batfam locks batsib!reader in the manor, taking care of all their needs but fails to account for their sexual urges so they buy them adult toys to help them out.
this is a separate post tho since that other one is noncon/unwilling on the reader's part, but for this scenario specifically it can be read as willing.
-------
growing up as the one civilian in the family where you had absolutely zero experience or training in combat, it was easy for everyone to infantilize you and see you as an innocent harmless little thing.
that all changed when they caught you masturbating for the first time.
tim was busy - as always - on his laptop, working on some case. a notification pops up, and he immediately abandons all his work and trains of thought to check up on it. he has a system set up for your internet history specifically, to alert him about any interesting activity you might be up to. his breath hitches at what he sees. his little sibling is watching porn for the first time. he must alert the rest of the family about this.
...but not before accessing the cameras he set up in your bedroom. there you were, on your bed, body fully displayed for him to see. tim's heart twinges seeing the slight look of guilt on your face as you reach down into your underwear. he wishes he could be there in person to comfort you through it all, but he doesn't want to intrude on such a precious moment. sure, he's surprised to see you like this, especially after only seeing you as his naive little sibling, but it's a natural human urge to go through! and you're already well past the age people usually explore themselves, he supposes.
he gets to watch in delight as you fumble with yourself down there, either shyly rubbing your cock or catching the sparks of pleasure from your clit as you softly moan.
and of course, he's recording all of this. do you even have to ask?
touching yourself for the first time is pretty awkward as you explore what works for you and brings the most pleasure. soon enough, you bring yourself to orgasm as you watch the couple on the screen fuck each other into oblivion. tim sees the evidence of your bliss - legs twitching and skin sheen with sweat with a peaceful look on your face. he loves this new look on you, and he wonders if he can bring it out of you again himself.
he looks down and oh - there's a wet spot on the crotch of his pants. looks like he'll have to change later. but before that, he has to tell the rest of the family about this new development of yours. they'll surely be delighted to know.
-----
as always your family is supportive in whatever endeavor you choose to pursue, whether it be some sport or hobby you took interest in or very recently exploring the higher forms of pleasure your body brings you.
they would rather teach you, hands on and in-person, themselves, but they don't want to scare you just yet. for now, they'll send you toys to aid in your self-exploration.
the guys would 100% give you dildos that are an exact replica of their dicks. they'd also be in the main color of their vigilante costumes. you can experiment with the different lengths and girths of the batmen, feeling how jason stretches you out and how dick reaches that spot just right, or how pretty and slender tim looks. bruce... well, you're a bit intimidated by the size and will probably work up to it later.
you'd also be receiving fleshlights themed after the girls' vigilante suits. it doesn't matter if you don't even have a penis, they just wanted you to have something that reminds you of them :) they'd also gladly give you a strap-on to test them out, it'd be a shame if you never used it you know. steph and cass squeeze you just right, pretty lips wrapped around you and sucking you in.
not really a sex toy, but they'd also give you lingerie that's also, of course, themed after their vigilante suits. how convenient that they all have their distinct colors and designs. seeing you mix and match differently themed lingerie and sex toys gives them mixed feelings. wearing spoiler's colors while fucking into cass's pocket pussy makes them very happy, but taking tim and jason's dildos on opposite holes while wearing nightwing's lingerie has them wanting to revisit old urges.
maybe one day they'll deem you ready to take on the real deals, but for now they're content with just watching.
