Untitled

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

⟡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe. 

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies." 

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error. 

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice. 

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately. 

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

⟡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.  

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that. 

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men. 

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often. 

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long. 

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face. 

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone. 

"No, Mr. Gojo." 

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru." 

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval. 

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements. 

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru." 

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds. 

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite. 

"Satoru." You mutter. 

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune. 

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood." 

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod. 

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more. 

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous. 

 Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with. 

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's. 

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of. 

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of. 

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics. 

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him. 

Except, you had no clue where he was. 

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons. 

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you. 

"Hey. You." 

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately. 

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—" 

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque. 

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it. 

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale." 

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour. 

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?" 

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto. 

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?" 

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner. 

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans. 

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself. 

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack. 

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to. 

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement." 

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power. 

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down." 

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—" 

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now." 

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat? 

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside." 

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. 

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod. 

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up. 

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you." 

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles. 

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time." 

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier. 

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

⟡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent. 

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else. 

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything. 

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you. 

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure. 

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you. 

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages." 

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open. 

You turn to the devil. 

"Can you...help?" 

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles. 

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips. 

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling." 

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?" 

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat. 

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly. 

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him. 

Not yet. 

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least." 

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different? 

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart." 

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more. 

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey. 

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?" 

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

⟡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before. 

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold. 

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.") 

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands. 

Matching rings. 

You felt sick. 

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you. 

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty. 

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click. 

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here. 

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around. 

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves. 

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first. 

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you." 

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy. 

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you. 

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain. 

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal." 

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it." 

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body. 

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand. 

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

He comes with a polite knock on your door. He’s dressed in traditional clothing–something that makes him stand out against your modern apartment. If you weren’t withering under the numerous sleepless nights, you might have gawked at his beauty: silky black hair that was gracefully tucked in a bun, sharp purple eyes, and a strong jawline. He was younger than you expected, maybe in his mid to late twenties. If he wasn’t dressed in his garb, you might have doubted he even was a priest. 

“Is this where you usually feel it?” Master Geto asks once you’re done rambling. He glances around your bedroom. You were so distracted, you forgot to put away your dirty laundry. Your entire room was cluttered, due to the neglect. Thankfully, he chooses not to comment. 

“Yes.” You answer when the silence gets too much. “There’s this sudden chill, and I can’t get rid of it, no matter how many blankets and heaters I bring out.” 

Master Geto hums, observing your bed. He reaches out, barely touching your sheets. He’s staring at one spot in particular. The chill surrounding you seems to lengthen suddenly.

“Master Geto?” You call, unsure. The man blinks before recomposing himself. 

“You mentioned things often vanished?” He asks. “Would you mind going into detail?” 

You flex your fingers. “Nothing big. Just dishes, some clothing, socks.” You brush over the more intimate items that disappeared. Your frilly blue panties, swiped from your laundry basket. A part of you is still convinced you misplaced them. You're still in denial over some things.

Master Geto nods. He walks around your apartment a bit more, nodding politely when you continue your ramblings. You notice the way he glances at your photo frames and other trinkets littered around your home. You also notice the way he’d look at something for a beat too long. You hated that. It was like he was seeing something you couldn’t. 

“It’s a cursed spirit.” He tells you once you’re walking him to the door. 

“Cursed spirit?” You repeat dumbly. He smiles. Strange, it feels a bit condescending. You try not to think too much about it. You should be grateful he decided to even visit your home.

“I highly doubt it’s a threat.” He assures you with a soft voice. “Just to be safe I’ll leave you with a Talisman. Hang it on the north wall of your bedroom.” 

He hands you a slip of paper, which you cradle. Immediately, the feeling in the apartment changes. The weight on your chest feels lighter. The room feels a bit warmer. 

“Thank you.” You tighten your grip on the slip. “I will.” 

You shuffle through your pockets for your wallet. Master Geto stops you by raising his hand. 

“There’s no need for that.” He tells you kindly. “I don’t accept money for these types of services. Be sure to check in from time to time. You can leave your information with Suda.” 

For a while, it works. You hang the talisman where Master Geto instructed. For the next few days, you get the best sleep you’d ever had in weeks. You hardly hear those strange noises anymore. Things stop going missing. 

It's a nice feeling to finally get your home back. The paranoia of constantly being watched made you cut down on your usual activities. You started inviting your friends over a lot more. You'd take longer baths, just sleeping away amongst the bubbles. Peace lasts for five days.

And then, everything comes back but worse. 

You wake up to breathing right in your ear. Something-no someone- is draped over your body, pinning you back into the bed. 

The worst part is you can’t even move. You’re limp, stuck staring at the wall as something like hands run across your body, running up your thin shirt. Something long and wet drags itself up your neck. The thing swallows like it’s savoring your taste. 

Despite your eyes being wide open, you can’t see. You aren’t sure if you want you, if the pitch black obscuring your vision is better than the truth. Your eyes sting. Tears trickle down your cheek. 

It licks that up too. 

“Stop.” 

It’s not a demand. It’s not even a beg. It’s a weak plea as whatever is on top of you continues to touch down your hips and thighs. Your body is pliant in the way your legs part as something thick slides between them. You can feel the body heat emanate from the figure. It would almost trick you into believing it’s human, if it wasn't for the serpentine tongue flicking across your cheek, the tendril-like arms groping your body, reaching up to cup your tits and squeeze. 

Your breath hitches when a claw-like finger swipes your nipples, then again. A purr resounds deep within its chest. Teeth glint over the trembling skin of your neck, like it’s trying to figure out which part is the juiciest. 

“Stop,” you’re telling it again but it refuses to listen as a hand reaches between your legs and your thin-shorts fall away like paper to its strength. 

A thumb parts your slit and you suddenly realize how wet you are almost dripping even though you shouldn’t be. Disgust pools into your belly, mixed in with self-loathing and that indescribable feeling of something else.

Clawed hands roll around your clit, there are harsher pants into your ear as it starts to rock it’s hips into you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening, that something your mortal mind couldn’t even comprehend was currently trying to get you off. 

And it was working. The slow circles of your clit made your mind fog up. You can barely even twitch your body, move your hips to shy away from the sensation. Your body refuses to listen to you as it keeps bring you higher and higher and higher. 

Your tiny pleas and the near-silent ‘no no no’s are washed away by your orgasm. Your hips jerk up to ride the wave as your entire body shudders and shakes at the sensation. Your back arches as the thing wraps itself around you like a vine, keeping you in place so it can play with your body a bit more. 

You think that’s the end, but it isn’t. Your whines and whimpers only push it forward as the fingers around your dripping pussy get faster and more excited. One orgasm turns into another-or maybe you keep cumming over and over. The hours turn into minutes. Your mind turns into mush. 

You don’t know when you pass out, but the next time you open your eyes, it’s morning again. And you’re all alone. 

It feels like a horrible dream. A nightmare. But when you look at yourself in the mirror you can see the marks it left on you and it sends you into a pit of hysteria all over again. 

You call Master Geto with trembling hands and a panicked voice. You don’t know how he understands you, or if he understands you at all. Your voice is pitchy and unfiltered, close to breaking all together. You stumble over your words, barely able to put a sentence together in your panic. 

He comes anyway. You can taste the relief on your tongue as you practically sink into his loose hold. He coos words of sympathy and pity, matching the exact facade you need. 

“Poor thing.” He murmurs and you don’t notice the way his lips press into your hairline, the way slender fingers draw gentle circles on the tops of your shorts, barely lifting to show your hips. You don’t stop and think how odd it was for the head priest of a busy temple to drop everything and rush to your side. 

Even if you did, it was too late to do anything about it anyway. 

He’s bringing you to the bedroom again, helping you up on your mattress, cooing and coaxing at you all the way. He doesn’t mind the way you claw at his clothes, clinging onto him with desperation. 

“Make it stop.” You beg. “Can you please make it stop?” 

A small hum. He gently pats your upper thigh, pulling you into his lap. 

“Of course I can.” He says, adjusting his hold on you so your legs are ever-so-slightly spread. 

“You just have to do one thing for me.” 

“What–what’s that?” 

His answer comes with a smile. He’s changing your position, settling you down so his chest is pressed against your back. You can feel his chin rest on your shoulder. 

The panic is going away. Confusion is starting to set in. 

“What are you–” 

“You have to give in.” He urges suddenly. You watch as the shadows begin to shift and merge. “Can you do that for me?” 

The shadows twist and turn. Darkness fills a corner, rising and rising until it nearly reaches the ceiling. 

It looks human. If you saw him from far away, you would think he was human. A little too tall, perhaps. Maybe his arms were too gangley and long. Maybe the way he stood was a little odd, slightly hunched over like he could hardly hold up his weight

And then you see an eye. Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. 

Six Eyes stared at you. 

You’re moving before you can even realize it. You're shifting out of Master Geto’s hold, but he’s quick to pin you down, shushing you all over again. 

“No.” You shake your head, thrashing in his hold. “No–no. Stop, let me go let me go–” 

Master Geto tightens his hold around your waist, trapping you in place. 

“It’s okay.” He hushes you, voice syrupy sweet. “You’re okay.” 

The condescension in his tone is bright and clear. He coaxes you like he’s dealing with a puppy scared of its own shadow: there’s intended comfort in his voice, but there’s also exasperated humor. 

“He’s waited for weeks, patiently.” He sighs and the hysteria is starting to well up in your stomach all over again, swelling your throat as the thing gets closer and closer. Grotesque, shadowy hands press down on the mattress as he slowly crawls to where you’re trapped. 

Master Geto nuzzles his face into your neck. You feel the graze of teeth. “He deserves a reward for being such a good boy, don’t you agree?” 

Hands grasp your calves before you can even think of kicking. There’s a hint of claws trailing up delicate skin. You press yourself into Master Geto’s chest, trying to move away from the creature staring up at you. 

Horror twists through your chest. Betrayal stabs you in the back. All what you can think is no no no.

“Easy, easy.” He murmurs into your ear. There’s a quick kiss at your temple. “He just wants to touch. You’ll let him touch, won’t you?” 

Your mind is breaking. You can’t comprehend a single thing that’s happening. All you know is that you let two monsters into your house, and neither seems content parting with empty hands. You can feel it: the intent of wanting to pick you to the bone.

You want to look away as the thing gets closer and closer, but you can pull your eyes away. You’re trapped, forced to stare as clawed hands take off your shorts, then roll off your panties. The bottom half of you is laid ripe and bare. Your pussy is shiny and already throbbing and it makes you hate yourself. You don’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. 

You shiver when warm air flutters over your cunt. The thing did have a mouth, apparently. The gap opened, revealing sharp teeth that glinted, as well as a long, pink, dexterous tongue. 

“Satoru.” Master Geto warns and the thing freezes. “Don’t think I didn’t see the marks you left. Be more gentle this time.” 

There’s a mix of a whine and a low growl. Before you can even think to scream, he’s closing the gap between his mouth and your pussy. 

You let out a squeal, quick to move, but his hands settle on your hips, keeping you still. His tongue, long and wet, slowly traces up the length of your pussy. He does it again, and then again. 

You feel like he’s savoring the taste of you, licking your cunt like a lollipop, never wanting to part. 

Your thighs twitch and jump the more he presses himself into your dripping sex. A broken whine escapes your tightly closed mouth. Behind you, Master Geto draws slow circles onto the skin of your shoulder whenever you arch up against him. It's as though he's trying to replicate some type of twisted comfort.

The noises start up again. Below you, there’s more growls, a stilted whimper as the tongue disappears from pressing onto your clit and licks the inside of your wet hole. You can barely voice your resistance before you feel the wet muscle burrow itself inside you completely. 

“See?” Master Geto whispers and you think his voice is making the creature grow more eager. “Isn’t this nice? He’s been so nice right now, isn’t he?” 

You’re getting dizzy. The ceiling is melting into the floor as your brain melts and oozes against the touches. Your struggles turn more lethargic. 

“Make it stop.” You’re mumbling back. “Make–make him stop.” 

Master Geto hums at that, adjusting you in a way that makes your hips drop and the tongue goes deeper. You yelp at the way it slithers against your walls, pressing on the most sensitive parts of you. There's a warm breath that makes your clit tingle and that knot inside of you tighten. 

“Why?” Geto questions as you continued to get tongue-fucked by the entity. “Isn’t he making you feel good?” 

You wildly shake your head. You can feel him grin at the base of your neck. 

“No? Are you sure?” You think you’re crying again, feeling salty tears trace down your cheeks and jawline. Cruelly, Geto gently wipes them away with perfectly manicured fingers. 

“So cute.” There’s a kiss on your cheek. You flinch away. 

“Look.” A hand angles your chin down. “Look how much he adores you.” 

You’re forced to look again, watching as his tongue draws out from your pussy to grind at your clit again. Warm drool spills over your pearl, getting sensitive by the cool air, only to be licked again by an eager tongue. His clawed hands push at the fat of your thighs, squeezing, keeping them apart so he can continue to eat out your pussy. 

There’s another squeeze of shadowed hands, and that’s what pushes you off the edge. 

You stiffen, jolting and whimpering as the orgasm crashes through your body in hot waves. You arch your back, lifting yourself off of Master Geto’s lap as your thighs threaten to snap shut over the head still lapping away at your cunt. 

He doesn’t stop, not even after you come down from your high, slumping down at the aftershocks. Slowly, your huffy whines turn into pained, pathetic whimpers. It was starting to feel like nothing would get him away from your over-sensitive pussy. The wet muscle brushing away at your clit gets more eager to suck your cum right out of you.

“Satoru.” Master Geto’s voice comes again. He’s regained that firm voice you’d only heard a few times now. “Enough.” 

Obediently, the mouth is retracted. You hear a terrible sucking noise, like the thing is trying to swallow the entire essence of you. 

You’ve lost the strength to fight. You can only shake as Master Geto once again pushes you forward. He treats you like a doll, maneuvering your body, twisting your limbs in the way he wants. 

The most you can do is loll your head to the side, barely able to keep your eyes open as the creature abandons your legs in favor of moving upwards. 

You can feel his hot tongue licking up your stomach, pushing your shirt upwards so he can lap at your heaving tits. You can only let out a weak whimper that contrasts against the satisfied purrs of the beast pinning you down. 

All six eyes stare at you. Distantly, you think to yourself that they're pretty. The color of an endless sky that stretches across horizons. Flaming blue sapphires.

Despite the shadows that cover the creatures' face, you can see some human features. A nose. A mouth that hides away that tentacle-like tongue.

Something hot and blunt rubs against your thigh. 

Alarms ring in your head all over again. 

“No.” You weakly push at the shadowy chest. The owner is quick to grab at your fingers, stunting your rebellion with a weak grasp “It–it won’t fit.”

“It will.” Geto says as you feel the tip graze the entrance of your swollen pussy. His voice is filled with that assurance that you're supposed to ease at. Clear dominance.

“We won’t stop until it does.” 

You can barely prepare yourself before there’s a rough thrust deep inside you, bottoming out in one swift motion. 

He’s so big, it’s the only thought you have as your walls stretch to accommodate the cock that’s nestled inside of your walls. It was like he was about to rip you apart, tear you in half. Like instinct, your pussy is squeezing, eager to keep his dick trapped inside. You've never felt more full in your life.

It's thick, but just from the touch you can tell it isn't human. It resembles the feel of his tongue. Longer, wetter. It pulses right inside of you as though it were alive, just as eager to bury inside of you as its' owner. You can feel like you're almost split apart by the seams. Your pussy is too tiny to swallow of him, as much as it tries to.

He shudders above you, you feel wispy hair against your shoulder, and then the creature begins to move. 

Insatiable. Like fucking you was the last thing he could ever do. His hips hurriedly thrust into you, fucking you with rabbit speed. You’re pushed further into Geto’s hold, who takes his own piece of you, reaching around to roughly squeeze at your tits. He brushes his thumb over your nipples, pulling and feeling the weight as your thighs start to tense and shake. 

You can barely get out your gasps of air. There’s another guttural purr, almost animalistic as your pussy takes him in deeper and deeper. 

Geto hushes you, nibbling at your ear and you can barely hear his whispers over your own voice. 

“You should be grateful.” He tells you, warmth coating his tone. “Satoru’s so gentle with you. He’s never this nice to me.” He reaches out to touch the creatures’ face. The monster melts against his palm, and his thrusts only get faster. 

Gentle. This wasn’t gentle. This was harsh and cruel and violent. Your pussy molds against his dick, as he continues to batter himself deeper and deeper into you. Your creamy cunt gushes at you feel as though you'd break at any second. Your hands reach out, eager to grab onto anything, grasping onto the wispy shoulders that feel far too firm to be made out of shadows. You dig your nails into the inhuman skin. There’s another satisfied groan, rumbling deep from his chest. 

Geto reaches down to idly rub at your clit. He draws loose circles on your pearl, urging you over that cliff you don’t want to tumble off of a second time. Your back arches upwards. The slapping of skin against skin gets louder and louder. 

There’s a low hum. Geto nestles his face into the crook of your neck. You feel him inhale deeply, smelling your shampoo.

“He wants to hear you say his name.” Geto murmurs against the skin of your jaw. “Can you say it?” 

“No-no.” You gasp out. Geto laughs. He squeezes your clit between his thumb and pointer finger. It's rough and mean. Your hips jump. 

“Please?” His tone is mockingly sweet and gentle, spilling over your naked body like honey. It sticks to you like the smell of sex in the air. 

“It’s not hard. C’mon, I’ll help you.” He urges. “Who’s fucking you right now? Who’s gonna come inside you and break your sweet little pussy?” 

“S’toru!” You sob out. “Satoru–Satoru please don't–” 

There’s a final thrust before you feel his dick pump something thick and hot right into your snatch. His orgasm triggers your own. You’re convulsing over his cock, feeling your orgasm lift you up and smash you to the ground. Your cunt clamps right over his dick, trying to milk everything he gives you. 

You feel that high rush over you for hours. Or maybe minutes. Or maybe seconds. When you finally slump down, his cock is still nestled deep inside you. You can feel something leaking out of your pussy, dripping onto the sheets. 

There’s a hum. A purr. Behind you, Geto is murmuring about how good you were but you can hardly focus. Your vision is starting to cloud. Darkness pricks in the background. You're starting to fall.

Blue eyes seep into yours.

You can see Satoru’s mouth again. It curves upward. 

It’s too human to be anything but a smile. 

~

“I told you not to be too rough,” Suguru chides.

Satoru gives a guilty growl, glancing away. It reminds Suguru of a puppy who got into the trash. His idle frustration wanes. His scowl softens.

He reaches out, petting Satoru's shadowed face. 

“It’s okay.” He assures the curse. “I’m not too mad.” 

Satoru perks up at his master’s words. Suguru leans over, meeting his lips. They share a messy kiss, filled with lust and longing and Suguru decides he can hold off his urges until after you wake up. 

You’re still asleep, nestled soundly into the covers, oblivious to the two around you. Suguru’s hands drifting over your shoulders and up your neck, cradling your soft cheek. He wipes away the tear stains. Your face twitches in your sleep. Your nose slightly scrunches. Suguru feels a laugh bubble in his throat.

“Aren’t you glad I chose this one?” He asks Satoru, idly tapping at your cheek. 

He knew you were the one ever since he first saw you. Asking Satoru to stay with you for a few weeks, giving you the scare until you officially met him was child’s play. He replayed the hope in your eyes as he handed you the talisman, knowing it was nothing more than a farce, but you were so grateful he almost felt bad. To a special grade curse, that talisman was nothing more than a flimsy piece of ribbon. 

Still, he didn’t expect Satoru to try to fuck you so soon. He remembered how you called him, close to hysterics as you tried to repeat how something spread your legs. It forced him to speed up his plans a little bit but now as he cradles you in his arms, he isn’t too upset his puppy strayed. He was always planning on taking you, this just encouraged him to prepare a tiny bit faster.

“Ours?” Satoru gurgles. 

Suguru hadn't expected a response. Satoru doesn’t speak much these days. Any sounds he typically makes are growls and whines. When he glances up, all six of Satoru's eyes are trained on your sleeping body. 

A smile forms on Suguru’s face. 

“Yes.” He nods. “Ours. Ours to keep.” 

Satoru leans downward, pressing his mouth to your temple. Suguru watches in quiet satisfaction.

The backyard of the school was surprisingly very deserted. Not surprising considering everyone had friends that they sit with at the table. You were on your way to your usual spot, a light pep in your steps thinking about the lunch that had your favorite food and also because your day was going abnormally.....normal.

Suddenly an arm shoots out from a classroom and drags you inside. It's as if the person who grabbed you knew that you'd scream and they instantly covered your mouth and whisper "shhh" you immediately cease your struggle as you recognised the voice.

Gojo satoru.

You felt a pang of disappointment because you were so happy with how the day was going. He pins you to the wall, his presence encompassing, as one of his arms cages you in. He has to slightly bend his knees so he can come closer to you, still towering over you. He has that annoying smug expression with his fake ass cheery voice.

"If i knew any better, I'd say you were avoiding us" he says as he points to himself and his friend, suguru geto who was preched on a desk.

Your face had a cute pout as you shook. Your head. "I wasn't...." You replied not being able to make eye contact with your head hung low and fiddling with your thumbs. You're not scared of them. You know the more you try to rile them up, the more you're gonna get in trouble. You learnt it the hard way that gojo satoru and geto suguru thrived on obedience.

Gojo sighed "really?? I beg to differ" he says in that grating tone of his as he grabs you jaw and makes you look at him "well anyway you did piss me off so you gotta make up to me"

Your eyes widen "w-what? I didn't even do anything!!!" Your voice raised slightly at the injustice of it all. "Tut tut that's the second strike" you were about to retaliate again but instantly shut your mouth when you caught suguru's gaze behind gojo. It was as if .. they're waiting for you to mess up so you just swallowed your comebacks. "I'm sorry " you said with all the fake sincerity you can muster.

Gojo busted out laughing at your apology "sorry?? You're sorry?? Too bad a sorry won't save you.."

"I'm hurt sweet cheeks. You ignored us after what happened last time??" Gojo leaned in and sneered. "Guess you need a memory refresher, no?"

You were too terrified and frozen in place to answer him. Tears well your eyes. You know you're not getting out of this. How could you have been stupid enough to avoid them!

Gojo grabs your arm and drags you further into the class. You choke as you sputter out. "I'm sorry! Gojo I'm sorry!! I s-shouldn't have ignored you!!". Voice cracking at the end, tears blurring your vision. You look at geto. Maybe he'd understand  "Geto!! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

Your words were cut off when gojo grabbed you and plopped you down on one of the desks.  Hiccups rack your chest and tears wet your cheeks.  "You know....." Gojo reached one of his hands up and wiped your tears with his thumb  "All this crying and begging won't make my dick soft. Infact,..."

He grabbed your wrists and placed it on his crotch where his dick bulged "it's making me even harder. So go ahead and cry"

You glanced at geto, your doe eyes pleading

"It's all your fault sweetheart. Shouldn't have ignored us" geto shrugged and you felt a pit form in your stomach

Gojo chuckled and leaned in to smash his lips on yours in a kiss. It wasn't soft. It was agressive with him sucking your tongue and biting your lips. Your hands were placed on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But you knew it was only gonna piss him off even more so you opted to just keep them still.

He pulled back to catch his breath and you panted.

"Turn around" he commanded, his voice deep. You almost sobbed but it was no use. They're gonna get what they want, doesn't matter if you consented or not. You do as he says and reluctantly turn around. You spot suguru right on the other side of the desk. When did he get there?

"You're real obident today" he commented

Je was smirking at you like he was enjoying this. You felt rage and something similar to hopelessness form in your stomach. All you could do was just...listen.

Your back faced gojo and on the other side was geto , the desk being the only barrier and dread settled in your chest at the realisation.

Gojo grabbed your hips and yanked them back towards him and kicked your legs open. Your hands were braced on the desk to balance yourself. This was way worse than the last time they did it. Because last time, you fought. You tried to resist and say no but this time... you weren't even trying. Because you knew it was useless.

Gojo satoru and Geto Suguru never took a  no for an answer.

Your lips left a small yelp when you felt gojo's hand trail up your thigh, you skirt riding up to reveal your panties. He let out a low whistle at the sight "Pink bows? So cute..." He mumbled and you hear them both chuckle. He caressed your folds over the panties and teased them. His fingers prodding at your fleshy folds made you tense up. You squirmed around, reaching back to grab his hands.

Geto, who was watching the spectacle the entire time, saw your hands struggle to push him away. You freeze and lift your head up when you heard the familiar sound of a buckle coming undone. Geto unbuckled his belt and pulls them out of the loops and tossed it to gojo.

Gojo, as if on queue caught the belt and gathered your hands to tie them together, effectively immobilizing you.

His hand grabbed the hem of your panties and yanked them down, making them pool around your ankles. He then resumed his fingers on your bare cunt making you whimper and twitch. He continued his ministrations until you were leaking and dripping down your thighs, small  pants of air leaving your mouth

"G-gojo please....no." your weak protest didn't even register in their brains.

"It's futile, y/n. You're not getting out of this mess"

Geto on the other hand, was growing impatient. Impatient of your whining and protest and at the way gojo hogged you for himself.

Geto grabbed your jaw pulling your face up towards him as he smashed his lips on yours. The position made you lean forward towards geto, prompting you to hike one of your legs on the desks. This gave easy access to gojo and your thighs spread apart, giving him a clear view of his fingers disappearing in you.

There was nothing soft about the way they moved. It was agressive and harsh. While gojo occupied your cunt, prodding and scissoring it to strech you open, geto grabbed the collar of your shirt in one hand and yanked it down, the sound of fabric ripping echoes in the room. The shirt tore open as buttons flew everywhere making you gasp in the kiss. He yanked your bra down, making your tits bounce up in his face. Geto groaned at the sight of them and he reached his hands down to twist and pinch them in his fingers. You moan at the feeling of your cunt and tits being abused. Your thighs quivered at rhe sensations and your mind went hazy. You really shouldn't have ignored them .

"Hmm she's dripping sugu, look at this..." Gojo pulled out his fingers, and raised his hand to make a show of them. Your cheeks burned at the sight of his fingers soaked in sticky arousal which dripped down his wrists. You were still on the desk, grounding yourself. A chuckle was heard from geto at the sight of his soaked fingers. "What a slut.."

Gojo placed his hand on your lower back and bent you over the desk with your knees still hiked over the desk.

You heard the sound of zippers coming undone was heard from the front and the back as both of them freed their cock from the tight confines of their pants. You heard geto hiss and the head of his cock turns red from the lack of attention.

Your breath was knocked out of your lungs at his agressiveness. You groaned at the pain that blossomed when he pushed you down. You tried to squirm away sobbing but one smack on your ass made you still. You cry out the position was uncomfortable. Your front was draped over the table with your hads tied on your lower back and one of your knee propped up the desk

"I hope you learnt to take us both at the same time sweetheart. Be a good girl and show us, hm??" He asked in that faux sweet voice of his which you've come to despise. Before you could say anything, geto inched forward to rub his mushroom tip up and down your lips. A brief thought of biting it off crossed your mind but you quickly shut it off, knowing it won't end well for you.

"Open up. You can choke but don't you dare bite"

Geto ordered and like the good girl you were, you opened your mouth.

You revolted as he slowly pushed the tip in, making you feel utterly violated. He inched in slowly making you feel every ridge in his cock on your tongue. You choke and sputter around his length, the feeling of something deep in your mouth unfamiliar. He paused.

"Deep breaths from your nose. Loosen your jaw, sweetheart"

You do as he says to avoid choking on his thick cock infiltrating your mouth. He started inching it in again until your nose was touching his pubic hair. He kept you there for a moment as he collected himself. You feel him pulse in your mouth, his groans above you sounded breathy.

Tears drip down your face and he glanced down, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. Geto picked up on your struggle and aversion

"I'm being really patient right now, sweetheart. If it were up to me, I'd just fuck your skull and leave with my cum painting your throat" what a saint.

He said, his voice sounding restrained. He grabbed the hair on the top of your head. His hips move backwards until the tip remains and he slammed it back in again so hard that you felt your brain rattle in your skull. You try not to choke and die and kept  your focus on keeping your jaw slack and breathing through your nose. Geto established a slow rythm, moving in and out of your mouth. The wet sounds of your throat and spit makes it more crude.

Gojo on the other hands, grabbed his cock in his fists, running his hands up and down his length and spreading his pre all over his cock. He placed it between your puffy, slick folds and started grinding. You felt yourself get even more wet. He leaked some of his pre on your folds, which made the squelching sounds even more filthy. Your thighs trembled.

Your hips squirm but his grip on your hips was bruising. He finally notched the head of his cock on your entrance and pushed it all in one go. "Ngh....so tight.. stop pretending like you hate it.."

This made you scream but it came out muffled around geto's cock. Geto groaned at the vibrations from your scream. "Shit... sweetheart.."

The duo paid no mind to your pain of screams. Gojo started rocking his hips in you at a fast pace. The bastard didn't even let you adjust. The sounds of your throat getting fucked, and your cunt being obliterated filled the air. They both moved in perfect sync. One thrusts in and the other pulls out.

The onslaught of the sensations and the feeling of being rammed in continuously made you delirious. Your were completely unmoving, only sounds escaped your body. Your eyes were rolled back when gojo kept hitting that spot in you. He angled his hips to make sure he brushes your gspot every time

Gojo placed his hands on your lower back, making it impossible to move. Just like last time, you were being violated. Your body betrayed you as it gushed around gojo's cock

Geto was the first one to cum. His grip on your hair became harsh and you wince in pain. His voice grew, moans and groans  ringing in your ears. His hips move frantically in you, his cock pulsing on your tongue. He thrusted in all the way, the tip of his cock nudging the back if your throat. You almost gag when he painted your throat white. He came in your mouth with a loud moan. Your throat contracted around him, milking him.

He kept you there, your face in his crotch making it hard to breathe.

"Swallow." He ordered and only pulled out when he finally came down from his high. You make a face at the taste of his cum but swallow his nonetheless. He chuckled at your obedience

"Good girl, swallowed every drop of my cum like the puppy you are". You were too fucked out to register his words

Gojo was almost finished too. They way your tight walls,  no matter how many times they fuck you, clenched around him deliciously. He's obsessed with the way you suck him in. If you knew how he looked above you, he'd die out if embarassment. His eyes were rolled and his head was thrown back in ecstasy.

He can't get enough of you no matter how many times they take you. He felt himself get close and he picked up his pace. He's gonna breed you so bad that his cum would be dripping down your legs for days. The thought alone made him inch closer to the edge and he came with a groan. He let out a pornographic moan when you cum around him sucking him dry. He needed a moment to ground himself as he came back from could nine. Truly, no one will ever compare to how you feel

He pulled out and cum dripped down your thigh. He felt himself hardern again at the sight. He flipped you around on the desk, and now you were laying on your back with your head hanging down from the edge.

Geto moved closer and placed his tip on your lips again, his balls resting on your forehead. Gojo lined himself at your entrance and smirked at your devestated face.

Even back then, you knew it was a joke. Not a promise. She just wanted you to cheer up. She wasn’t agreeing to be a spinster with you. 

Still, when she called you with the news, something broke within you. 

“-He’s great! He’s so great!” Her voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve never met someone so kind and gentle. And his face! He’s so handsome. It was love at first sight.” 

She excitedly tells you how they met, how he’d tapped her shoulder in the library, asking if she knew where to find a book. She’d only seen a glimpse of his badge, his name, and then the rest was history. 

The more she talks, the more you sink. You could almost imagine what she looked like as she spoke. Her cheeks would glow with a warm pink. There would be a sparkle in her eye that makes her look younger. It was so selfish of you to drown in misery when she’s so happy. She’s your closest friend. She deserves better than someone so jaded. 

You’re glad she isn’t here in person. You don’t want her to see how bitter you feel. 

You close the hole in your heart with cement and faux delight. 

“He sounds great,” you hear yourself say. 

“When can I meet him?” 

❤︎

You’ve never seen someone so tall before. 

He wasn’t dressed to stand out. The simple, black coat drapes perfectly against his lean figure. His hair is coiled into an elegant bun, showcasing his neck and black earrings. His face is sharp and edged with beauty. 

Unmei tugs him over, looking at him with bright, glimmering eyes. Love. You can see the truth stamped right on her face. 

She slides into the seat across from you. He mirrors her. The whispers and noises within the cafe hush their voices a bit. 

And yet, you can hear his voice clearly. Low and gentle. 

“Did I say it right?” Geto asks right after he says your name. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Unmei flushes. 

You spot the expensive watch hanging off his wrist as he reaches over to shake your hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. 

“Change,” his purple eyes murmur, “the end of it all.” 

The next hour passes with small talk and introductions. Unmei is the main talker, with Geto adding something in every so often. They work well together; you quietly observe, sipping on watered-down iced coffee. They fit. Pieces of a puzzle. Made for each other. 

They are soulmates, after all. 

“-It’s why I wanted you to meet him so bad,” Unmei tells you when you finally tune in again. “You two are so similar! It’d be nice to have all of us hang out sometime.” 

“That would be nice.” Geto nods along before directing his gaze at you. “Perhaps you could bring your own soulmate, too.” 

Your throat tightens. Unmei blanches. You can sense her about to redirect, but you figure it’s best if you bite the bullet now. 

“I don’t have one.” You tell him, forcing your voice to sound light. 

It takes a second for people to understand what you’re telling them–that you’re one of those. You wait for Geto to get that shameful look of pity everyone gets the moment you tell them. You’ve spent years like this, but it never stops stinging. 

No pity. No sympathy. 

He leans forward. His eyes sharpen. 

“Really?” 

You shrug, avoiding his gaze to sip on your coffee. You can still feel his eyes prickle on your skin even after Unmei changes the conversation. 

Hours later, she texts you: sooo what’d you think????

You write exactly what she wants to hear.

He’s perfect for you:) 

❤︎

Your second interaction with Geto happens without Unmei. 

Some days, you liked to wander: turn your brain off, stroll through random shops, admiring the various knick-knacks you could never justify the price enough to purchase. Today, your feet led you into a small bookstore. 

The door alerts to your presence with a cheery jingle. The man at the front spares you a lukewarm smile as you trek into his store. The smell of paper and ink greets your nose. It’s a cozy place. Quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling city just outside. 

One of your favorite authors recently published a new book. You weren’t sure if this bookstore had it, but you told yourself it wouldn’t hurt to check. You scanned the rows and shelves, drifting around the store to see if you could spot it. 

You were so distracted, you didn’t notice him until you quite literally walked into him. 

Hands reach out to steady you. Firm but gentle. You look up as a bundle of apologies is ready to spill from your lips. They die once you look into sharp purple eyes. 

Geto smiles when his hands release your shoulders. 

“Careful there.” 

You reanimate at his voice. You step back, mindful of how close he was. 

“Sorry,” you tell him, “I–I didn’t see you.” 

“I could tell.” His grin widens, and you sheepishly glance down. 

“This is a very welcome coincidence,” he continues, “I didn’t know you liked literature as well.” 

You helplessly shrug, trying not to show your discomfort. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Geto. He seemed like a nice person, but you were not ready at all for a one-on-one interaction with your friend’s new boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” you say when the silence gets too long, “I was just here to see if I could find something in particular…” Just then, your eyes drift up. 

You catch the title just then. It’s sitting quietly on the top shelf, leering at you. If only you’d found it sooner, it seems to goad at you; you wouldn’t be stuck in the most awkward situation in the world. 

Geto catches your gaze. He glances up at the book. 

“Is that the one?” He asks. 

You nod. He reaches up and lifts it from its respective spot. You expect him to hand it over immediately, but he seems more interested in examining the cover. 

“That sounds interesting.” He comments before handing it to you. “Would you recommend it?”

“I haven’t read it yet.” You admit. “But I’m a big fan of the author.” 

He hums in acknowledgement. That’s when you notice his own stash of books he had tucked under his arm. 

“You’re a horror fan?” You ask.

“Not particularly,” he admits. “I just wanted to branch out. My friend is a huge horror fan. These were mostly his recommendations.” 

You nod. “Unmei also likes horror. The genre at least.” You blab on. “Back when we were in high school, she’d force me to watch all sorts of slasher movies, and then she’d get so scared she’d beg me to let her sleep over.” 

On those days, you’d wake up to her snoring all over your pillows. Later, when you teased her about it, she’d laugh it off with red all over her face. 

Those days were tinged with nostalgia–back when it was just you and Unmei.  

You expect Geto to appreciate the snapshot of his soulmate’s past. That’s why he’s making small talk with you in the first place, right? To get to know her better.

Something flickers across his eyes. It was barely a moment before his face changed to deep sincerity, but you caught it. 

Boredom. 

You were stumped. How could someone be so blatantly uninterested in their soulmate? Or maybe it was you he couldn’t care less about? Or perhaps you just imagined it entirely? 

You feel like you should confront him about it. 

“Sorry,” you say instead, “ I need to head out now.” 

“Of course.” He immediately steps aside to let you pass through the cramped shelves. 

You expect that to be the end of it, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. 

You almost considered abandoning your book entirely, just so you could escape the bookstore. Instead, you flash a tense smile at the cashier, who beams back. 

“Find everything okay?” He asks. 

“We did,” Geto tells him cheerily. He stands right next to you. You can almost feel the coat he wears brush against your shoulder. 

Sometimes you wish you weren’t so nonconfrontational. Maybe you would’ve fought a bit more when Geto casually plucks the book from your loose grip, placing it on top of his own stack. 

“All together, please.” He tells the cashier, before he turns to you. “I got it.” 

“No, it’s fine.” You’re finally able to speak up. It’s too late. The man is already grabbing the bag and saying his regards to the worker behind the counter. He holds the door open for you. 

You meekly thank him. 

“I can pay you back.” You immediately say. 

Geto shakes his head. “It’s fine. Think of it as a gift.” He hands your book into your twitching hands. “A token to the start of a good friendship.” 

You had this bad habit of feeling indebted to someone if they paid for you, to the point where you would bend backwards for them if they asked. 

Something tells you that being in that situation with Geto is a terrible idea. 

You still accept, thanking him as sincerely as you can. 

“That reminds me.” Geto continues, pulling out his phone. “We should exchange contacts. We do share a favorite person after all. It would be wise to keep in touch.” He tells you with a steady grin. 

Your stomach flips. You don’t want to. You genuinely don’t want to. 

But the book is heavy in your hands. 

When Geto offers to walk you to the station, you finally gather the courage to decline. You thank him repeatedly for his kindness, slipping away before he can coax you into doing anything more. 

He was nothing but polite to you 

Kind even. 

But there’s something so horribly wrong about Geto Suguru. 

—

Geto and Unmei moved fast. 

They became an official couple one week after they met. Two months later, Unmei moved into his place. 

They moved fast, as most soulmates do. After all, if two people are destined to be together forever, why wait? Why not get the hard part over with first so you can enjoy forever more? 

At least, that’s how you saw it. 

The party was subdued but extremely upscale. Geto’s apartment was something else entirely. Luxurious floors with open spaces. When you looked outside the spotless glass, you could see the glimmering lights of the city far beneath your feet. 

You felt like you could fall through the glass and crash into those lights. You’d shatter into a million pieces, twinkling like the stars above. 

“Would you like another drink?” A voice asks. 

You glance up. Nanami Kento’s eyes remain on you. You suddenly remember what you were doing. 

You look down at your cup—just water. You were driving home tonight. “I’m fine, but thank you.” 

Nanami nods, taking a swing of his own cup. The amber-colored liquid swirled around the glass. 

Out of all of Geto’s friends, you think you liked Nanami the most. He was quiet, straightforward, polite, and a complete gentleman. He was one of you, you later found out—someone with un inked wrists. When Unmei dragged him across the room to ‘keep each other company’, you thought it was another one of her schemes. 

Well, it definitely still was her scheme, but you didn’t mind it too much. Nanami was good company. He was much more preferable to Geto’s other friend. The tall one with blue eyes and white hair. The one that kept staring at you like he knew something you didn’t. 

“So how do you know Geto?” You ask.

His lips thinned. You almost smile. 

“Old classmates.” He tells you. “He, along with a couple of others, was in the grade above me.” 

He seemed exhausted even thinking about it. You wonder how wild his upper-level students were.

“What about you and Unmei?” He asks after a bit. 

You hide your smile behind your glass. 

“We were practically raised together.” You start. “Attached at the hip, ever since we were kids.” 

You two used to plan your weddings together. She wanted her kid to marry yours. Every day you were at each other’s houses. Every weekend was slumber parties and sleepovers. 

When kids used to mock you for not having a name, she was the one who defended you. She was the one who chased off bullies and wiped away your tears. 

She’s been in your life all your life. You can’t remember a time she wasn’t. 

“Hm,” Nanami comments, “you two sound close.” 

“We are,” you agree, even when you can taste the uncertainty on your tongue.

She stood a little way away. Unmei looked borderline unrecognizable from the one you knew just a few months ago. Her hair was pushed up from her face, a stark contrast to the looser hairstyles she used to prefer. Her dress was sleek and glamorous. She probably wore hundreds of dollars on her wrist. She blended right into the elite group she was currently laughing with. 

Nanami keeps talking about something. You hum along, unable to take your eyes off of her. You keep watching until you can’t anymore. 

Sometime later, you find yourself on the balcony. The murmur of the crowd has dwindled behind you. It’s cold, you didn’t bring a jacket. There are goosebumps littered across your arms, but you don’t want to go inside yet. You’re not sure if you can continue looking at Unmei as she changes into something you can’t reach anymore. 

There it was again. That bitterness. The guilt washes it down all over again. 

Footsteps. Someone takes their place right next to you. At first, you think it’s Nanami’s attempt to restart the conversation. 

Geto leans over the railing, watching the city below. 

“It’s a pretty view, isn’t it?” He asks, voice gentle and soft. “It’s a huge reason why I bought this place.” 

You flex your fingers. The air suddenly gets colder. 

“Yeah.” You give, listening to the muted sounds inside. “It’s beautiful.” 

That’s the truth. The city lights twinkled and buzzed with life. Part of you wanted to sit there and count each one. You might be stuck there for years. 

“It’s even more beautiful in the mornings,” Geto continues, “there’s a gentle fog that covers the city, and the horizon is this pale pink. I really hope you see it one day.” 

You shift, a bit uncomfortable by the confession. You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by it. 

“You have a lovely home.” You finally say. “It’s very beautiful. I’m sure you're ecstatic to share this with Unmei.” 

A genuine smile lifts your face as you think back to the times Unmei gushed about meeting her future soulmate. She’d planned everything: the house, the car, the dog. You’d sat there quietly, listening, just happy to be in her life. 

“I bet you must have waited years to finally meet her.” You tell Geto as you admire the view. “You’re a very lucky man.” 

You expect a laugh. You expect a bashful acceptance. 

“I never wanted to meet my soulmate, initially.” 

For the first time in the conversation, you truly look at Geto. He’s staring right back. His purple eyes are darker in the dim lighting. They’re almost a muddy brown. 

“When I was younger, I had a grim opinion of soulmates.” His jaw tenses. You catch the movement. “The idea of having someone I was tied to by fate used to sicken me. It felt like control. It felt like something cosmic wrote out my future, and I was entirely helpless to it.” 

You can’t pull your eyes away. Whatever you were hearing, no matter how jarring, felt honest. You were drawn to it–a bee to a flower.

“I think now, I’ve mostly changed my mind.” He shrugs. “The bond isn’t truly control. Rather, it’s a path, guiding us to something far more desirable.” 

You blink. What could you say to that? 

Thankfully, Geto doesn’t let you fluster for long. He steps ever so slightly closer. It’s already too close, but you can’t move. You’re stuck in your spot. Paralyzed. 

“And, if anything.” He leans down, voice suddenly hushed. “I’d consider you the lucky one.” 

“Me?” 

He smiles. Amusement laces his lips. Long fingers reach for your arm. He slowly turns your hand, showing your blank, un-inked wrist. 

“Yes,” he tells you, “this is truly lucky.” 

You see it then. It flashes right across his purple eyes. 

Jealousy. 

It’s so hateful, it nearly makes you panic. You stumble back, out of his hold. The meeker part of you urges you to run. As far as you can. Run before–

“Are you alright?” 

Concerned sincerity etches across Geto’s face as he reaches out to stabilize you. Hands press on your shoulders before they slip away. 

You avert your gaze. 

“I’m fine.” It’s too sharp. You force yourself to soften your tone. “I guess it’s a little chilly out.” 

Geto barely wastes a moment. He slips off his jacket and settles it onto your shoulders before you can protest. His cologne clings to the leather. The smell of sandalwood and cinnamon. 

“Keep it.” He stops you when you try to take it off. “Stay out here and enjoy the view a bit more. It’s truly breathtaking.” 

You watch as he slips back inside, playing the perfect host to his guests. The air is still cold, but you can finally breathe again. 

Later that night, Suguru gets on one knee and proposes. 

Unmei says yes. 

❤︎

There’s a way to reject the soul bond. You’ve seen it happen exactly once in your life. 

You were fourteen, watching from the stairs as your mom comforted your next-door neighbor. She was one of the unlucky ones. Her soul bond was filled with nothing but rage and possession. You could see the evidence of it on the bruises on her soft skin. The swelling black eye. 

She kept mumbling something of how sick she was to be tied to him. How she’d rather have no soulmate than one so vile. Your mother kept hushing her, insisting on calling the police, letting her stay the night. 

She’s not listening. It’s like she’s in a trance as she rises on two shaky feet, drifting towards the kitchen. You find yourself following. 

She pulls out a knife, and your mother screams when she digs into the ink on her own wrist. 

She stopped bleeding before the ambulance arrived. There’s a gigantic smile on her face the entire time she’s talking to the paramedics. 

You’ve never seen someone look so free before. 

❤︎

Planning a wedding takes time and money. It’s a good thing that Geto is swimming in the latter. 

The restaurant is upscale and practically swathed in elites. You feel very much out of place with your dress that probably wasn’t even worth the cheapest thing on the menu. Geto assured you plenty of times that this was his treat. Ever since the proposal, you’d been swamped in wedding preparations. This dinner was supposed to be a thank you. 

Tonight is a celebration of two people. 

You, the maid of honor. 

And Gojo, the best man. 

The two of you sat across from the engaged couple. Unmei was beaming the entire night. The ring was glistening on her finger. You’ve seen it all over her social media, not to mention the hours she spent gushing about how perfect the ring and the proposal was. 

But you remembered she hated cluster rings. She used to call them tacky. And she’s told you her perfect proposal over and over again. She’s always wanted it somewhere outdoors, where they’re alone and surrounded by nature. 

The complete opposite of how Suguru did it. 

“I can barely sleep.” Unmei gushes to you while the two men continue their own conversation. “The wedding is still two months away, but I can barely sleep.” 

You give her a comforting smile, taking another sip of your water. Dinner was already eaten, but you hadn’t tasted a single thing. It felt like cement sludge down your throat. 

“I bet that’s normal,” you say, “It’s your day. You should be excited.” 

“Most nights I just dream about flower arrangements.” She frowns before she sits up again. “Shit, the flowers. Please tell me you—“

“Don’t worry, I already booked the florist you were talking to,” you immediately coddle. “Everything is going to be perfect.” 

She visibly relaxes, leaning back in her seat. “Only because you’re here.” She tells you. “I only got this far ‘cuz of you, y'know that?” 

You smile. Her face brightens. 

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Are you planning on bringing anyone? Someone special?”

The two men gradually quieted. You arch your brow. 

“Probably not,” you say, “besides I’ll have a lot of stuff to do on the day of. I won’t have time for a date.” 

“What about bringing Nanami?” She pipes up. “I’m sure he can entertain himself while you’re busy.” 

Someone’s gaze stings your skin. You ignore it. 

“Why would I bring him?” 

She scoffs. 

“Don’t act like that.” She chides. “I saw how into you he was at the party. Please tell me you got his number.” 

You did. And you two text every now and then. Non-soulmates are rare, so even if you don’t end up in a relationship, it’s nice to keep in touch. 

“Nanami?” Geto echoes, finally making it known that he was eavesdropping. 

Unmei turns to him with a smile. “I introduced them a while ago. Aren’t they just perfect for each other?" 

‘Is she saying that just because neither of us has soulmates?’ You try not to feel so harshly about it. 

Geto smiles, but it lacks any warmth. 

Gojo turns to you. 

“I didn’t know you met Nanami?” He sports a wide grin. Almost like a sneer. 

You shrug. “We talked for a bit sometime back.” 

“I feel bad for you. I know I’m not supposed to talk crap about my juniors, but that guy is so boring.” He rolled his eyes. “He was even worse in high school, if you can believe that.” 

“I didn’t think he was all that bad.” You counter. 

“Ah, I get it.” Gojo nods. “You’re into the quiet, studious type of guy.” 

You shift in your seat. “It’s nothing that dramatic.” You respond. “He was just really nice.” 

“Hm.” Gojo takes a swing at his glass. “I guess I see wedding bells in your future, then.” 

“Satoru.” 

Geto’s voice is clipped. His eyes have shadows. Gojo puts his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ motion. There’s a lazy smile on his mouth. The atmosphere is so strained that even Unmei’s smile weakens. You take another sip of your water. You really wish you’d ordered something stronger. You had no idea tonight would be this tense. 

Unmei quickly turns the conversation to something else. She brings up more wedding plans. The rest of the night is spent ignoring the elephant in the room. 

Sometime after that, you and Gojo end up outside the restaurant, alone. Unmei and Geto are still sorting out the bill. You spot them lingering inside. Unmei is talking animatedly to a waitress. Geto is scrolling on his phone. 

You don’t have much in common with Gojo, and you’re happy to keep the silence as the two of you wait. He, however, doesn’t seem to share your thoughts. 

He leans over as you watch the engaged couple. 

“So, how long do you think they’ll last?” 

You glare up at him. He grins. 

“That’s not funny.” You immediately rebuff. “Why would you say that?” 

Satoru shrugs. 

“C’mon, you can’t say you’re the tiniest bit doubtful they’ll stay together, right?” 

You shake your head.

“They’re soulmates,” you respond. Their companionship was written in the stars from the start. They are a certainty. “It’s tradition.”

“Soulmates don’t always stay together,” Satoru says, “and Suguru isn’t one for tradition.” 

You say nothing. Gojo only takes it as a sign to pester you further. 

“Wanna make a bet with me?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“I’ll bet all the money I have that they’ll break up right before the wedding.” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe on the day of: Suguru loves being dramatic.” 

Your lips curl into a sneer. 

“I thought you were supposed to be Geto’s friend?” 

What kind of person bets their friend’s relationship will fail? 

“I am his friend,” Gojo argues. “I’m only saying this ‘cuz I know him so well. No offense to your bestie, but she’s not his type.” 

“No.” He tilts his head, studying you. “He prefers someone a bit more…docile.” 

You shift, trying to hide your discomfort underneath his gaze. 

“They’re coming out.” You watch as the couple shifts closer. “Please don’t tell them you’re betting they’ll break up.” 

Gojo laughs. 

“Aye, captain.” 

❤︎

Unmei stumbles into your apartment at 1 am. 

You’d forgotten you’d given her a spare key. When you woke up to muffled footsteps and murmurs, you thought someone was robbing you. The influx of emotions you felt as you rushed out with a baseball bat, only to discover your friend draped across your couch. 

Your very drunk friend draped across your couch. 

“Unmei?” You shake her shoulder. 

She barely moves. You do it again. She finally groans. 

“Hi.” She rasps out. Her throat is groggy with exhaustion and alcohol. 

“How…” You try to find the proper words. “How did you get here? Did you drive?” 

“Uber.” She murmurs. “Sorry…I…sorry. Didn’t–didn’t wanna go back. Didn’t wanna see him.” 

Her words are stilted, but you think you’re starting to get the picture. 

“Did you and Suguru get into a fight?” You ask gently. 

She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

“You have to talk, to fight.” She tells you, and you want to press her on that, but she’s talking again. 

“Suguru’s sad you don’t like him.” 

“What?” You lean closer so you can hear her properly. 

“Suguru–” She snuggles deeper into your couch”--he’s sad you don’t like him. Why do you not like him?” 

“I like him.” You try to smile. “Of course, I like him. Why wouldn’t I?” 

Her eyes are open. The way she stares at you makes your defenses weaken. 

“I don’t know, Mei.” You eventually respond. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. I…I just find him a little weird.” 

You want to tell her about the strange quips Geto’s made. The stuff Gojo said at the restaurant still eats at you. You want to tell her all of those things. 

Unmei doesn’t let you. 

She sits up so fast, you’re almost worried for her. You’re about to tell her to be more careful, but then you notice the look in her eyes. 

Spiteful. 

It’s directed solely at you. 

“Are you fucking joking right now?” She spits out. “My soulmate is going out of his way to be nice to you, but you’re calling him weird?” 

You have to back up as she stumbles to her feet. Her words are slurred and hard to decipher, but the intent is as clear as day. 

“He doesn’t even like you.” She rants. “Why would he? For fuck’s sake you don’t even have a soulmate, and now you’re calling mine weird? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work.” 

You blink. It feels like your heart’s been torn in two. 

“Unmei…?” It’s the only thing you can even think to say to someone who you thought loved you. Tears well in your eyes. 

Unmei knows how sensitive you are about soulmates. She always knew. As bad as your fights got in the past, it’s the one line she hadn’t crossed. 

Until now. 

She realizes what she said. Unmei slumps almost immediately, fully breaking down. 

“I’m sorry.” She blubbers. “I–I’m so sorry, I just.” 

You push aside your feelings as you always have to accommodate hers. She buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake. When you wrap your arms around her shoulders, she easily leans into your warmth. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She sobs. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” It’s not. “You’re having a bad day. Just sleep it off, okay? We can talk in the morning.” 

She says nothing as you leave her on the couch. Minutes later, you return with a blanket, gently settling it over her still body. 

“I saw him with another girl today.” 

You freeze. Unmei stares blankly at the wall. 

“He barely talks when we’re alone. He never talks. I don’t even know why I followed him, but I saw them together. They got into his car.” Her voice cracks. There’s a muted voice in the back of your head to comfort her. 

You don’t move. 

“I don’t know what they did. I…I just don’t know. That’s part of his job, right? Sometimes he takes his clients out to dinners and stuff.” 

She looks up at you. “And–and everything’s so different when we’re alone. He’s so much warmer with you. Whenever we plan something, he’s always asking if you want to come along too. I just don’t get it.” 

The apartment is quiet. Distinctly, you can hear a clock faintly ticking somewhere. 

“Do you think he’s cheating?” You ask. 

“Do you think he would?” Unmei asks right back. 

You think of being honest. You think about telling her you genuinely don’t know. Then, you remember the anger in her voice just minutes prior. The hurt is still fresh on your mind. It’s instinct to cower and placate after you’ve been burned so harshly. 

Just like always, you tell her exactly what she wants to hear. 

“Of course, he’s nice to me.” You hear yourself say. “He probably feels bad for me.” Because you have no soulmate.

“Unmei, you don’t see the way he looks at you.” Does he ever look at her? 

“He can’t stop talking about you.” You can’t remember a single conversation you and Geto had about her. 

“He loves you. I’m sure of it.” Are you? 

A shy smile creeps up on her face. You can feel yourself shatter. 

“Really?” She asks. 

You settle beside her, squeezing her fingers. 

“Trust me.” Words feel like sand on your tongue. “You are going to make each other so happy.” 

She’s smiling. You think you’re smiling too, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. 

She closes her eyes again. You sit there for a few minutes. When you think she’s asleep, you get up to leave, but her voice stops you. 

“I thought she was you.” 

“You what?” You ask. 

She nuzzles the blanket closer to her face. 

“The girl. I thought she was you, but she wasn’t. She looked like you. It was the weirdest thing.” 

You think she’s about to say more. She doesn’t. 

The next day, Unmei acts as if nothing had happened. She’s laughing and talking during breakfast. You still think about what she said, hours after she left. 

❤︎

The week before the wedding, you finally decide you no longer want to be friends with Unmei. 

You don’t hate her, you could never hate her, but it’s clear you might’ve valued your friendship differently than she did. 

You don’t think you want to boycott the wedding entirely. It’d taken months to plan. The money was already spent. You don’t want to ruin her big day. 

But you don’t think you’ll be taking her calls as frequently. You don’t think you’ll drop everything for her anymore. 

For now, you just want a bit of distance. 

Now that you’ve decided to no longer prioritize her, your life is slowly becoming easier. Instead of doing everything yourself, you’re delegating tasks to the other bridesmaids. You actually make time for yourself instead of fizzing with nerves by the phone, wondering when she’ll call you to her side. 

You can finally breathe again. 

But old habits die hard.  

I need you. Please come.

Unmei texting you in the middle of the night wasn’t a huge issue. But she never sends you this type of message. Formal, short, panicked. 

You stare at the words, reading them over and over again. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again. 

But what if she needed you? 

You’ve been to Suguru’s apartment a few times after the party. It was mostly to pick stuff up or help Unmei. There’s usually a lively atmosphere with warm lights. 

Tonight, as you tap on the door, you can’t help but notice how cold the atmosphere feels. 

He doesn’t leave you waiting. Geto opens the door with a pleasant smile on his face. His grin widens when he locks eyes with you. 

“Come in.” Geto pulls the door back. 

You hesitate, but eventually you step in. Not much has changed since your last visit. There are fresh flowers in a vase. Something’s cooking in the kitchen. Still, the apartment feels emptier, somehow. 

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Geto smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

You give an awkward smile, shifting your weight. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be here for long,” you tell him before shifting your gaze to the bedroom, “Is she in there?” 

Geto tilts his head. 

“Are you looking for Unmei?” He slowly asks. 

When you nod, he shakes his head. 

“She headed out for her bachelorette party hours ago.” 

For a moment, you thought you misheard him. 

“Her what?” 

“Her bachelorette party. I’m so sorry, I assumed you were with her. It’s why I was surprised you showed up.” He admits sheepishly. 

“Bachelorette party.” You repeat. 

She told you she didn’t want a bachelorette party. She called it a cliché. And now, when you decide to put your feelings aside and reach out, you find out she left you in the fucking dust as she enjoys her night. 

You were so fucking done with her. 

“Right.” Your throat feels tight. “Ok, then…I should go.” 

A firm hand on your shoulder stops you from walking out the door. Geto stares at you with an empathic frown on his face. 

“You shouldn’t leave like this.” He urges. 

You try to pull away. His grip barely budges. 

“Geto, it’s fine–” 

“You should eat something at least. It’d be rude to send you away after you’ve been such a good friend to my fiancé.” 

That stung even though you know he didn’t mean it like that. 

“Okay.” You relent. “Just for a bit.” 

He smiles. 

“Oh, and call me Suguru from now on.” He suggests. “I think we’re close enough to drop the formalities, right?” 

Suguru manages to get you to sit at the dining table. It was already set for two. A little while later, he comes back with two plates and a bottle of wine. 

The food smelled delicious, but it tasted like ash in your mouth. You couldn’t find it within yourself to enjoy it. Betrayal made everything taste like nothing. 

You don’t consider yourself a drinker, but Geto manages to refill your glass twice throughout the night. 

Eventually, Suguru acknowledges the elephant in the room. 

“Did you two fight?” 

That actually made you laugh. It’s harsh and bitter. You gulp down the last of your wine. 

“No,” you say, “I just didn’t fall to her feet this one time.”

That’s all you were for her. Not a friend. Not a companion. You were just some pet she could keep at her side. Bark when she said bark. Sit when she said sit. Roll over when she said. She was treating you like a dog who forgot a trick or two. You feel so pathetic. 

You’re so upset, you have to stand up. Suguru only watches you pace back and forth. 

“I’ve put up with her bullshit for months, y’know?” You don’t think you’re talking to him at all. You’re just ranting. “Whatever she wanted, I got her. I’ve spent hundreds of hours planning her perfect day with her. And yet, the one time I give an opinion, she immediately blows up at me and–and says all this awful shit, and I have to forgive her.” 

Suguru rises with you, blocking your path. You look up at him. He’s blurry from all the tears in your eyes. 

“She’s stressed with the wedding,” he tries to console. “I’m sure she isn’t trying to do any harm.”

You shake your head. Somehow, you find yourself sitting on the sofa. Suguru’s joined you. You can still taste the wine on your tongue. You’re drunk. You’re erratic. You’ve stopped giving a fuck. 

“What about the stress she’s putting me under?” You argue back. “I tried to be a good friend to her, and she constantly treats me like garbage. And it’s all because I don’t have a soulmate? When has that ever mattered for her?” 

Unmei had always protected you from anyone who mocked you for being incomplete. Other. She was your shield. 

You can still remember her voice ringing through your head. The hatred. You’ve always been jealous of me, and I’m so sick of doing charity work. 

You bury your face in your hands. 

“All I ever wanted to do was be there for her.” You sob into your fingers. “Why is she shutting me out like this?” 

You wanted to go back to how things were months ago. Back when you had someone so close, it felt like having a sister. Back before–

Suguru gathers your limp form in his arms. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon overwhelms your senses. 

“You poor thing,” he coos, and you melt into his calming words because you’ve never felt more alone in your life. “It must have been so very hard on you.” 

You don’t know how long you sit there, snuggled into his chest, crying your heart out. It feels like minutes pass before your tears stop flowing, and your breathing slows down. 

He pulls you away from his chest. You follow. You’re still heartbroken, but now you’re embarrassed for crying on your best friend’s fiancé’s shoulder. You look up, opening your mouth to apologize. 

Suguru’s lips meet yours. 

It’s barely a brush. You feel his fingers caress your cheek before you pull back. 

“What are you–” your voice dies in your throat “What–” 

“You want to feel better, don’t you?” He asks, voice terrifyingly gentle. “I can help with that.” 

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. When he tries to touch you again, you jump up. 

“I didn’t…I never…” Your mind is spinning. You don’t know what to say. 

“She’s your soulmate.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. “How–how could you think of doing that to your…”

Suguru tilts his head. 

“We both know how stubborn she can get.” He speaks slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Look at how much you do for her. You are constantly bending over backwards. Aren’t you tired of doing all this charity work? Don’t you want someone else to take care of you for a change?” 

Something clicks in your mind. 

Charity Work. Unmei’s words, but that didn’t sound like her at all. 

It sounded more like something Geto Suguru would say. 

“It’s you.” Something cold splashes across your spine. “You’ve been putting a wedge between Unmei and me for months.” 

He’s tried separating you from her as soon as he walked into Unmei’s life. All this time, he was speaking cruelties into her ear about you, manipulating her, turning her against you. 

And Unmei fell for it because she thought her soulmate could never hurt her. 

Suguru stands up. His smile is gone. You’ve never seen him like this before. You’ve seen him upset, bored, amused. This is different. 

Every emotion on his face is gone. It’s like he’s stone. 

He calls your name. It’s a warning. You don’t heed it. 

“No, no,” you hiss out, “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I’d never break her heart like this, no matter how angry I am at her. I’m not like you.” 

You start for the door. You needed to find Unmei. Fuck the petty fight. Fuck everything. You needed to find her and explain everything to her so that things could return to normal. 

You never make it to the door. 

There’s a harsh grip on your wrist. Before you can even struggle, you’re flung back against the couch. You collapse on top of the stiff pillows. 

Suguru’s quick to cage you in. Within moments, he’s trapped you underneath him. A hand reaches up to trap both of your wrists. His body is right in between your legs, pressing himself right up to you. 

You kick. You scream. A hand clamps down on your mouth. 

Suguru waits patiently as your rebellion tapers out. You lie underneath him, panting and utterly defeated. 

A tear trickles down your cheek. He wipes it away, adoration at his fingertips. It makes you sick. 

“I really wanted our first time to be romantic.” He sighs, genuinely sounding disappointed. “I spent the entire day planning our little date. And then you had to get all hysterical.” He clicks his tongue. 

“I think you’re spending a bit too much time with my fiancé, Dear.” 

You flinch at his words. He grins. 

“At the same time, I can’t say I’m not happy with how the night ended.” He releases your mouth. You prepare to yell again. “You can scream if you want to, dear. I’m sure you’d like the whole floor coming by to watch me fuck you. I don’t mind an audience.” 

Horror rushes down your body. 

“What do you mean?” Suguru says nothing, leaning back to release his tie. “Geto-Suguru,” you beg. “You can’t really mean that. You can’t do this. What about Unmei? What about your soulmate?” 

“I thought I told you this already.” He wraps the tie securely around your wrist before considering you. 

“Soulmates are paths, guiding us to our true destination.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. You lay there, utterly helpless, staring into his purple eyes. 

“Through her, I was able to find my true other half.” He confesses. “Someone that perfectly fits me.” 

If he were another man, if he had another name, you might have fallen in love right there. 

But this man has your friend’s name written on his wrist, and it makes you want to vanish into the Earth. 

He rises back up with a grin. 

“What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.” 

You’re shaking your head as he reaches down for your shirt. It’s pulled off of you within moments, revealing your bare flesh. Your skin trembles against his fingers as he explores the skin on your stomach, pushing his hand up until it reaches the bottom of your bra. 

Your tits are exposed to the cold air as he grabs them. Curious. Exploring. Nausea builds in your stomach. 

“You should relax, love.” He urges as his hand travels down. “You could make yourself sick from all that crying.” 

He acts as if he cares for you, even when you know he couldn’t care less. You can feel his heat pressing up against your thigh. It’s a blunt foreshadowing of his true desires. 

The silk against your wrists tightens every time you move. The wine isn’t helping either. You feel sluggish, almost feverish. You lie there, completely limp, watching as he picks at your pants. They don’t have much of a fight before he’s dragging them off your body completely, leaving you with just your cotton panties. 

The cold settles on your bare thighs. A large hand settles on your upper leg. He squeezes. You jolt. 

Suguru’s kissing you again. It’s harsher than the first time. More teeth, like he intends to swallow you whole. He squeezes your chin, keeping you in place so he can continue to devour you. For a moment, you debate biting his tongue off, before you quickly bat it away. The thought of him getting violent, even worse, terrifies you. 

But how could he get worse? 

He pulls away with a satisfied sigh. The hand on your thigh lifts to your clothed slit. You don’t realize you’re wet until his fingers slip underneath your panties. 

There’s a slight hitch in his breathing. 

“Is this for me?” You can practically taste the victory in his voice. “How sweet.” 

A few moments later, your panties are torn away, too. Your legs are tangled with the thin cloth, leaving you utterly defenseless as he spreads your thighs apart. 

“No,” you’re telling him. “Don’t–No, no–” 

He hushes you with a quiet whisper, and then his mouth is on your pussy. 

Your thighs immediately fall onto his shoulders as he ate you out. There was a rhythm to it. His tongue lapped at your slit before curling at your clit. Immediately, you reacted. Your thighs flexed, threatening to clamp over his head. Something hot coiled in your belly as he sucked on your pussy. 

Your protests eventually gave way to sharp gasps and whines as he continued to tongue-fuck you. You think you’re still crying, but its interrupted by another toe-curling mewl. You don’t have the ability to hold them in. They force themselves past your lips and into the frigid air. You could feel Suguru smile against your clit. You’re so wet you’re probably dripping all over the couch, but you think Suguru couldn’t care less. 

He lifts you up by the hips. You let out a yelp as he crams his tongue into your hole, drinking the entirety of you. 

“That’s it.” His voice is muffled by your pussy.  It’s slurred. Drunk. “Lemme’ hear you.” 

You obey, helpless to do anything else. Your mind is swirling with self-hatred as you feel yourself approaching the edge. You can’t do anything to stop it. Your hips move by themselves. Your pussy clenches. 

Your orgasm was a tiny hitch before you completely came apart. Suguru keeps you there, latched onto your clit like a man starved, until you finally come down from your high. 

You lay there, panting, completely spent. Suguru rises from his spot in between your legs. He wipes at his face, never taking his eyes off of you. 

The kiss he gives you is terrifyingly soft. Almost sweet. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He gently holds your chin like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. 

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend it’s anyone else. Not Suguru. Not your friend’s fiancé. Not her soulmate. 

But Suguru doesn’t care about you enough to let you have that fantasy. 

“Look at me.” 

His voice is too soft to be demanding, but the order is clear from his tone. 

Slowly, your eyes drift back open. 

Suguru stands over you as if this were his rightful place. You can see his cock, fully unfurled from his pants. The mushroom tip has a bead of glistening, white pre-cum as he slowly aligns it to your battered pussy. 

You think the worst part is his eyes. 

Soft. Gentle. He stares at you the way no one else has. 

Love. 

You want to cry again, but you think you’ve run out of tears. 

His nonchalant demeanor is cracked. His pupils are flared with lust. He grunts when he slides his swollen tip across your folds. Pussy juice is smeared all over his cock as he does it again and again. 

“I’ve waited so long for this.” He sighs, and you don’t think he’s talking to you. “No one is taking this away from me.” 

Not even you. 

You should be grateful he cares enough to be gentle. His cock is huge, big enough to split you at the seams if he wanted to. You still he lowers himself into your hole. Immediately, your walls flex, squeezing his cock. 

Suguru growls and bits his lip. It’s clear whatever control he has left, he’s only holding it by a hair. 

It’s almost a relief when he fully sheathes himself inside you. He nearly collapses, face ducking into the crook of your neck. Your toes curl when he hits a spongy spot inside of you that nearly makes you see stars. 

“Fuck.” He hisses, voice sharp. “That’s it. That’s it. Just take it.” 

It’s an unsteady pace. Brutal, almost mind-breaking as he continues to fuck himself into you. You can hear his ragged breathing in your ear as he drives himself deeper and deeper into your cunt. You can barely keep up with the motions. Your thighs shake with the momentum. 

You think you’re saying something, and then your mind is wiped clean with another thrust. It’s an endless cycle of torturous pleasure. 

“Suguru–I–I can’t.” You’re blabbering. “I can’t, I just can’t–” 

“You can.” He urges back, fingers reaching down to rub your clit. You arch, back lifting up from the pillows. “I know you can, darling. Look at that. Look at you. Look at how well you take me.” 

“This was how it was always meant to be.” You can’t decipher the tone of his words. Your mind is too preoccupied with the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock. “You were practically made for me.” A broken wail passes out from your lips. He laughs. 

At this point, you think he’s too far gone to even know what he’s saying. 

“I love you so much, darling.” He leans back into your neck, biting down on the flesh. “No one can take you away from me. You are all for me.” 

At least, you hope that’s the case. You can’t bear to think his words have a semblance of intent. 

Your mind goes white as you cum on his cock. Your eyes roll back, your back arches up like a bitch in heat as you fall off the edge. Your pussy milks him, clamping down hard as you ride your high. 

There’s a moan in your ear before something hot pumps into your pussy, painting your insides with white. There’s so much, even with his dick still plugging your cunt, some still manages to leak out, dripping down your ass. 

He takes a shaky breath, and then he’s kissing you again. That same delicate touch he loves to take after he breaks you. You can taste the festering love through his lips and tongue. You let him, too exhausted to fight back. 

You think he’s saying something. You can’t hear him over the throbbing in your head. The tone he uses is soft as lips press against your temple. 

And then, his cock slips out of your ragged cunt before slamming back in all over again. 

❤︎

Mei<3 Missed Call(23)

‘Where are you’ 

‘Where are you’ 

‘Please dont do this to me’ 

‘I’m begging you’ 

‘I love you so much’

‘I’m sorry for everything I’ve done’ 

‘Plase don’t do this to me’

‘He’s my soulmate, why would you take him from me’ 

‘Please don’t do this to me’

…

‘You’re just a selfish slut. Take him then. See if I care.’ 

Ever since you woke up, all you could do was stare at Unmei’s texts. You’ve read them over and over. 

The words never change. Each line cuts you deeper than before.

You’re no longer on the sofa. Sometime last night, Suguru must have moved you. You sit up on a luxurious king-sized bed with silk sheets. Your body is aching and sore. There are marks all over your body. 

The man who made them sleeps peacefully right next to you. 

You’re still naked. It hurts to move. All what you can do is read Unmei’s texts over and over as you wipe away the sharp tears trickling down your cheek. 

The curtains of Suguru’s bedroom are open. It’s early morning. The beginnings of a sunrise creep over the horizon. Buildings are obscured by a light fog, and you can barely make out the outline of the city. The sky is illuminated with pinks and light oranges. It’s the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t notice he’s awake until Suguru’s muscled chest presses against your back. You flinch as his head settles into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” He murmurs against your skin. “It’s a beautiful view. You’ll get to see this every day, from now on.” 

You don’t bother batting him away. You just stare down at your phone. There’s no new message from Unmei. She blocked you hours ago. 

Fingers pluck your phone from your loose grip. Suguru adjusts himself, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sifts through her panicked messages. He clicks his tongue. 

“Never expected anything more from her.” He sighs before he tosses the phone in the mess of blankets. He kisses your neck. “She’ll probably come by today. Hopefully, she’ll move out without much of an issue.” He remarks casually. Dully. Complete disinterest. 

Why? You want to ask him. Why you? Why would he–why would anyone–hate you enough to do this? 

But then, you remember the look of love he gave you as he rammed his cock deeper. You don’t know how you’d be able to hold yourself together if you saw that again. 

For the sake of your sanity, you ask: 

“What did you tell her?” 

Suguru’s fingers curl around your stomach. You can hear the slightest hint of irritation in his breath. 

“Nothing.” He eventually confesses. You want to yell at him, call him a liar. You don’t get the chance. 

“She must have felt the bond sever.” 

You notice it, just then. 

The wrappings on his wrist. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you grab at it. Suguru lets you unravel his work, silently watching each layer of gauze drop away. 

It’s ugly. The skin is raised and irritated. It will probably leave behind a scar. 

Not a single trace of Unmei’s name is left on Suguru’s skin. 

You want to scream, but your voice is frozen in your throat. 

There’s another kiss on your cheek. Suguru grins. 

“See?” He tells you adoringly, lovingly. 

It's a cruel thing, seeing everyone else's destiny but being blind to your own. He doesn't even know if he has a soulmate at all. As a teen, he convinced himself it was a test—maybe he just needed to work harder to find his soulmate. He spent far too much time researching old mythology about destiny and fated lovers.

Growing into young adulthood, he spent even more time watching people, searching for someone else who might be missing their own thread. With Caleb's good looks and charming personality, he's always been spoiled for choice when it comes to a potential partner. Many people throw themselves at him, not realizing their threads tug them back toward someone else entirely.

It's not like he needs to reject his admirers. He knows he could just be another passing tangle or knot in someone's connection with a true soulmate. But that doesn't appeal to him. He wants to feel that undeniable pull, that intimate connection that comes with finding the person who was made for him. So he continues waiting—and watching for patterns he can study.

He soon learns how to guess people's whole life stories just from the way their threads are woven. It becomes second nature to figure out someone is having an affair or if they've lost a loved one or are desperately trying to escape fate altogether.

When he bumps into you at a café, he initially thinks nothing of it. He plasters on his usual suave smile while reaching down to grab your fallen bag. And when he hands it back to you, he freezes in place.

Caleb has never believed in sparks flying or love at first sight. Especially not when he's witnessed firsthand how every connection is planned by some higher power. But when he sees your face—your apologetic smile and the way you look at him with genuine kindness—he thinks fate becomes inconsequential.

His eyes land on the red thread tied around your left wrist like a shackle, and his heart drops. For a fleeting moment, he hoped you'd have no thread like him. He almost turns away, until he notices the wrongness of it.

Your thread is…ugly. A weak, dull color as it yanks at your wrist like an incessant child, trying to tug you toward something you don't seem to have any interest in.

The moment you turn your back on Caleb to resume your order, his eyes never leave you. You become an obsession—half because of that immediate flicker of something he felt when he saw you, and the other half because he has to find out why fate feels different around you.

His feet carry him mindlessly behind you when you leave the café. Careful not to arouse suspicion, he follows you all the way to your apartment. And imagine his surprise when he realizes you live right down the hall from his own apartment.

Caleb doesn't believe in coincidence. So he takes it upon himself to learn even more about you.

Clearly, the universe is sending him a sign. Maybe it messed up when writing your destiny. Maybe some cosmic being needs his help in fixing the mistake. Either way, he's the only one who can correct that dreadful thing holding you back from having a true soulmate. He's the only one who could be your soulmate.

He watches you for weeks, taking his time to collect as much information about you as he can before he makes his next move. People, normal people, are hilariously predictable. Not only are they beholden to fate, but they also desperately cling to routine. Just another pattern that Caleb picks up on with far too much ease.

It barely takes him a month to have your entire schedule mapped out and memorized. Even on the rare occasion when you do something spontaneous, he's able to intuit where you might go, who you might be with, and what time you'll decide to head back home.

He takes advantage of one of the moments you're not home, picking the lock on your front door with ease. Knowing exactly how much time he has before you return, he's planned the perfect opportunity to plant hidden cameras in each of the rooms of your apartment.

He's so well-prepared that he even has a few extra minutes afterward to go through your most precious belongings. It's hard not to steal a caress of your soft bed, rifle through the diary hidden underneath it, or gingerly smell one of your hoodies hanging on the couch.

If you were here now, you would freak out. Caleb's not insane enough not to know that. But he also believes if you gave him a chance to explain—you're meant to be with him, duh—maybe you wouldn't be too mad. That's why he does something completely unplanned and leaves with your hoodie after double-checking that all the cameras work.

Luckily, you don't notice the missing item or the added tiny red dots peeking out from strategically placed spots. One of the things Caleb loves about you is how sweet and trusting you are. It's something anyone else could easily take advantage of, though. And he doesn't like the thought of that.

Being a guardian angel isn't enough for him. Watching from afar won't mean much if someone gets too close to you when he's unprepared or turns his back for a moment. He needs to make sure no one else slides into your life. Especially if that someone could be whoever is on the other end of that counterfeit bond wrapped too tightly around your wrist.

So Caleb manufactures more accidental meetings with you. You're neighbors, after all. When you take out your trash, Caleb times his exit perfectly, turning a corner just fast enough to bump into you. His charming apology makes you a bit flustered, and he thinks you're even cuter when you're within arm's reach.

The second meeting happens at a bookstore three blocks down. The one you frequent every Saturday around lunchtime to read a new book while snacking on something salty. He’s already browsing the shelves when you walk in, glancing at you with feigned surprise when you notice your neighbor likes one of the books you read last week.

After that, it becomes easier. He embeds himself into your routine until he's impossible to ignore.

First, he's a simple stranger who you notice every once in a while. Then, an acquaintance who happens—coincidentally—to love the same cafés, the same obscure novels, the same quiet walking paths you prefer at dusk. He laughs at the right moments. Listens when you speak. Remembers little details you share that you think anyone else wouldn't bother paying attention to.

Finally, he becomes a friend. A staple in your daily routine. A shoulder you cry on when days are hard and you need someone to rely on.

In those moments, Caleb wants nothing more than to confess his feelings for you. Everything is going so well, and he can sense that you'd reciprocate his confession.

With every cozy hangout, conversation that stretches past midnight, and shared meal where your knees brush his under the table, Caleb watches the subtle shift in your body language. The way you lean closer and your voice softens. You're falling for him.

But that grotesque thing around your wrist begins to thrash in protest whenever he gets too close. His teeth grit every time he sees its blatant disapproval.

Why is the universe resisting him now? You are his other half. He's never been so sure of anything else in his life. Is this the real test he mistakenly thought he'd been put through as a child?

At night, he lies awake and dissects every possible next step. No matter the scenario, he arrives at the same conclusion. There is only ever one outcome with fate.

He's seen it before in past observations: no matter how much fate veers off course, it always finds a way to correct itself. But perhaps that's only because no one with Caleb's gift has ever tried to intervene.

People believe fate does not bend for desire, or that it doesn't reward patience and effort. They believe it simply is. But when you grow up seeing its physical manifestation and the way people fight against it, it's hard not to come to the conclusion that even something preordained can be manipulated by someone strong enough.

If Caleb's been given such a gift…then it would be a shame not to use it.

He'll make sure there is no possible way the universe could pull you into someone else's orbit. Which means he needs to find the parasite at the other end of your tether. He needs to measure their worth. Even though deep down, he already knows what answer lies at the end of his calculations.

And he's proven right when he finally does find your dead weight. Your so-called soulmate doesn't seem to treasure true love or fate at all. Even worse, the man doesn't even add up to a quarter of the exceptional person you are.

Your destined counterpart spends his days slouched at a bar that smells like stale beer and desperation. Caleb watches from across the street first. Then from inside. Then a day later, from a camera discreetly installed in the man's messy home.

He scowls as he watches your fated half drown in cheap booze and women that barely stay the night before being kicked out onto the street like trash. One could barely call this a routine when it's more like a never-ending rut for a loser who thinks he's the shit when he actually just smells like it.

This is what pulls at your wrist every night? This is what dares to fight when Caleb leans into you with a look full of yearning?

The knowledge taunts him for three days. That's all it takes before he ponders something brand new about the universe while watching a belligerent idiot snore facedown on a stained mattress.

Can fate defend itself?

Caleb makes sure what he's about to do will look like a freak accident. It's just something that happens to a drunkard who no one will miss anyway.

It turns out it's easy to sever the very thread of fate that he always admired as a kid. In fact, he's a little disappointed by the lack of ceremony. There's no bolt of lightning striking him down, no divine intervention or a voice booming from above in anger of what Caleb has taken into his own hands.

Fate is weak and pathetic as it tries to resist its new order from a power more determined than a fickle thing like the universe. It bleeds and whimpers before the last rush of air leaves its lungs.

Caleb stares down at the broken thread, now unattached from the man you were never meant to meet.

It feels like a stupid thought now, but he knows he has to attach it to himself. He doesn't believe in its power anymore, but you might. You might feel its loss if it decays, the same way he's seen remnants of other people's bonds that ended when their lovers passed away too soon. Besides, he wants there to be no question that there is an unshakeable bond between you two—even if you can't see it for yourself.

Caleb works quickly, tying a knot around his left wrist a bit too tightly, like he's scared it might come undone if he isn't meticulous enough. Some strange bit of life still left in the thread resists him at first, stubbornly recoiling from the wrongness of what just transpired. But familiarity is a powerful thing. He has already watched you, memorized you, and diligently shaped his life around the edges of yours. He makes fate recognize effort now.

It stings for a few minutes, feeling like forcing a shape into the wrong space. Fortunately, his lack of a thread becomes an advantage. There is nothing to conflict, nothing to reject the intrusion other than your own thread trying to hold onto something irrelevant.

And after a few heart-pounding moments, the knot finally holds—and your thread stills. Caleb exhales for the first time in minutes. He leaves the unmoving body on the dirty mattress, smiling when he thinks of the next time he'll see you with a strengthened bond.

Your neighbor—and new best friend—is the sweetest man you've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You never thought you'd find someone like him in this day and age. A true gentleman, he makes you feel seen in a way that feels inevitable. Like he was always waiting for you to run into him on a busy day at your favorite café.

Lately, you've been unable to stop yourself from flirting with danger. And it really is a dangerous thing to fall in love with a neighbor. If things don't work out, then you'll have to bump into an ex every day just to go in and out of your apartment.

But if the only dangerous thing about wanting a man like Caleb is the possibility of a constant heartache, then you'll take your chances. Besides, your chest already tightens painfully every time he smiles at you. Your heart really does skip a beat when he laughs at your jokes, or hugs you when you're sad, or when his hands wander just a bit while he cuddles up beside you on your couch.

Caleb is different than any men you've ever met. He's better. Maybe he's the best you might ever get. And you're not going to let someone else snatch him up.

That's precisely why you've already put so much faith in him. Someone as gentle as Caleb could never hurt a fly, so you happily gave him a key to your apartment for emergencies. You let him come over even when you're looking like a mess after tiring days at work. You even fall asleep on him sometimes, so trusting that he would always protect you even in your most vulnerable states.

His easygoing charm and innocent puppy-like eyes make your heart beat only for him. But you're also a bit annoyed; no matter how much his touch might wander at times, he always holds himself back.

You've tried baiting him with shorts that "accidentally" ride up a bit between your thighs when you bend down in front of him. You've even let your hands trail his chest and abs while watching movies beside him.

It takes all your willpower not to jump him right then and there the moment your fingertips trace the quivering lines of his lower stomach. His breathing always turns heavier with cute little gasps of air when you touch him. But still, he doesn't take things further.

It's for this reason that you decide to take a leap of faith and ask him on a date. You're not usually this bold with your crushes, but something about Caleb makes you want to be brave. When the two of you meet up at your usual café for lunch, you take advantage of a quiet moment.

"Caleb?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady as he looks up at you over the rim of his coffee mug.

He sets the cup down, giving you his full attention like he always does. You stammer for a second, and he smirks, as if he can guess what you're about to say. That cockiness is what makes you turn a nervous question into a headstrong declaration.

"I want to go out on a date with you."

Immediately, you feel a bit stupid for the phrasing and the way you looked at him like he had no say in the matter. But Caleb—always the type to play along with your every whim—smiles, his dimples making you swoon a bit. You notice a flicker of something strange in his expression, but it's too fast to put to words.

"You do?" he asks with a chuckle, far too calm when you're over here sweating buckets and waiting for a proper response. "Well, I could never say no to you."

The warmth that spreads through you is immediate and dizzying. You laugh in relief, feeling ridiculous for ever doubting yourself or his feelings for you. Caleb wipes away any residual doubt the second he gets up from his chair and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

He promises to plan everything for your date, even though you were the one who asked him out. The next weekend, he meets you at your apartment promptly on time, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a small box of treats from that dessert place you love visiting.

Everything is perfect and effortless. Even more so than how it usually feels being by his side. He picks a restaurant you mentioned wanting to try weeks ago—one you hadn't expected him to remember. He holds doors open for you, rests his hand lightly at your back while leading you to the table, and looks at you like you're the only person in the room.

As always, conversation with Caleb flows easily. Since you've known him, he's always been able to guess what's on your mind, what might be bothering you or making you nervous. It's uncanny just how much he can stay in sync with you, as easily as breathing.

But this time, there's something just a bit different about your dynamic. Something charged with a heightened tension.

When your fingers reach across the table to brush against his hand, he doesn't pull away or avoid eye contact. He looks at you like what you've just done has sealed something he's been waiting to finalize for a long time.

It should scare you, that dark look in his eyes. Because for a second, he looks a bit unrecognizable. But all you feel is a sensation like something clicking into place.

You intertwine your fingers with his and ask, "Do you believe in soulmates?"

For the first time since you've met him, Caleb looks surprised. Nothing ever catches him off guard. Yet somehow, this simple question does the trick.

Wondering if maybe your question was a bit embarrassing, you backtrack. "I know it sounds silly. But—"

"Yes," he interrupts with a whisper. "I mean…I'm not sure if I did before meetin' you." His thumb rubs your knuckles back and forth as he holds your hand just a bit tighter. "But now I know."

If it was anyone else, you might have been amused by how cheesy his words are. But when Caleb is the one saying them—so earnestly, too—all you feel is a rush of heat through your body.

The rest of the date happens in a bit of a blur. Both of you can't seem to keep your hands off each other, even opting to skip dessert if it means getting back home quicker.

You really aren't the type to invite a first date inside your home, no matter how well the night goes. This time it's different because it's Caleb, the man you've already shared so much with. He's been inside your home before. He's seen you in every way but one. And you're desperate to show him that missing piece now.

As soon as you unlock your door, you push him inside, all pretense forgotten the moment your shoes and coats come off. You crash into him, feverish kisses stealing his breath away as he chuckles between them. You don't care how eager you seem, you just want his lips on yours.

Using his tie as a leash, you tug him backwards with you, blindly stumbling to your bedroom. But even when you think you might bump into a wall, Caleb redirects you with his eyes closed, like he's memorized the route you need to take without so much as parting from your lips. If you weren't getting drunk off his kisses, maybe alarm bells would ring in your mind—you've never taken him to your bedroom before now.

Nothing matters anyway. Nothing except getting him out of these stupid clothes and showing him just how much you've wanted him all night. When Caleb gently pulls you down onto your bed, you move with more roughness, your frenzied kisses pausing so you can shove him to sit back against the headboard and straddle his lap.

His eyes sparkle with mirth, but he lets you manhandle him. The realization makes your stomach flutter. Testing the waters further, you use his shoulders as leverage before grinding down on him. Caleb's hands fly to your hips with a gasp, but he doesn't control your movements. He just lets you rock at your own pace, basking in the weight of your core rubbing against his clothed erection.

His compliance encourages you, making you needy for leaving more kisses along his Adam's apple and neck. He moans for you while his hips buck instinctively beneath yours, and it makes another flood of arousal pool between your thighs.

"Mm, is this okay?" you mumble against his skin while grinding with more pressure, desperately chasing friction.

His fingers tighten on your waist, but he still doesn't stop you. "Y-you can use me however you want, baby," he replies through another breathy moan. "I'm yours. All yours."

How did you get so lucky, you wonder before biting down on his neck. You make sure to suck a mark worthy of being on someone who gives himself to you so eagerly. It's the least you can do for how sweetly he whimpers and claws at your hips while you hump him until you're nearly coming on his lap.

In the midst of your greed, you've undone his tie and ripped a few of the buttons on his shirt, making room for more licks and bites. When you lean back to look at your handiwork, both of you are panting, not nearly satisfied yet but needing a moment to catch your breath. And your sweet friend, no, boyfriend now, looks at you like he's ready to worship you.

He slides one hand up your body, taking his time to feel every curve until his fingers gently wrap around your left wrist. He holds his breath and glances at you with hesitation, like touching your arm is a sin.

It's cute how even after your frenzied touches and kisses, he acts like he still needs permission to reciprocate them. You nod, and then he carefully lifts your hand to his trembling lips before kissing the inside of your wrist.

The gesture seems deeper than you can understand, especially with the way he keeps glancing at you as if you know its hidden meaning. But you're lost for words, only feeling that aching throb between your legs and needing him to soothe it. He notices your confused expression but presses another kiss to your hammering pulse before smiling up at you.

"Let me take care of you now," he says, tugging you by the wrist to reposition you beneath him.

It's your turn to be maneuvered, and you let him. He kisses down your body, fingers still tickling that wrist he seems fixated on before he pins it to the mattress.

The two of you pull at each other's disheveled clothes until you're both bare. Until the tip of his cock nudges against your lower belly as Caleb continues showering you in love. But before you can feel it inside you, he seems to have other plans.

His kisses travel across your chest, against stiffened nipples, along the softness of your tummy, then finally between your thighs. When he pushes your legs apart, you shudder, feeling the cool air kiss your soaked folds a second before his warm breath does. Then he drags the flat of his tongue in one long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

The sound you make is obscene. Your hips jerk up before you can stop them, accidentally shoving your cunt harder against his mouth. But Caleb's only response is a needy moan, like he’s the one being pleasured, the vibration humming straight through your core.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he mumbles, lips brushing your swollen clit as he speaks. “Let me hear you, baby. You're mine now—those sounds are mine.”

You barely have time to let the certainty of his words sink into your fluttering stomach before he dives in like a man starved. No teasing anymore. Just hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses to your pussy.

It's like he knows exactly what pace to set and how much pressure his tongue should apply to make you wail for him. Could it be possible this man was sent from Heaven to satisfy all your cravings? You swear you might become religious after this.

His tongue nudges against your clit before his lips suction around it, and your back arches off the bed while you moan for him. One hand flies to his hair while your other fists the sheets, and still he doesn’t let up. If anything, the way you yank his hair only makes him moan louder against you.

There's a faint rustle of movement, and you glance down to see Caleb gently rocking against your mattress, so lost in the taste of you that he needs to hump your bed.

"Oh my god, I think I'm gonna come," you cry, feeling overwhelmed by how quickly he's able to pull this much pleasure from you. You fuck his face with more fervor now, shamelessly bucking your hips and pulling on his hair with a tightness you'll only regret after you come down from this high. "Caleb, please…need your fingers. Wanna come around them," you whine with each buck.

You peek down at him, and he's watching you with dark eyes, a scary determination in them while his hand snakes in between your legs. His fingers slide inside you with ease, curling in a rhythm that matches how he laps up your slick.

The soft smacks of his lips against your skin and the squelch of your wet pussy fill the room, mingled with your growing screams. And then you gush around his thick digits—coating his lips, chin, and palm with your orgasm. Caleb takes it all with a look of reverence on his flushed face, licking every drop you give him and gasping for air when he finally parts from your twitching body.

When he slides up your body to look at you with a satisfied grin, your pussy clenches again at the sight of his glistening mouth and pupils blown wide. He looks dazed, proud. His cock slides against your still-twitching pussy, smearing precum against the mess you already have between your legs—but he doesn’t rush you. Instead he kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips when he pulls back just enough to breathe. “More, I need more. Need you inside me.”

He exhales a shaky laugh that turns into a groan when you wrap your legs around his waist. “Yeah…yeah, baby. I’ve got you, don't worry.”

Reaching down, he nestles the head of his cock between your folds and then finally pushes in. It's slow, so fucking slow, but you revel in the jolt of pleasure that shoots down your body as he stretches you out cautiously. He's bigger than any man you've had before, but every thick inch slides inside easily, filling you all the way until his hips are flush with yours.

Caleb curses beneath his breath, head falling to rest against yours while he pants and gasps at the feeling of you wrapped so tight around him. His eyes meet yours, locked and unable to tear away when he starts to move.

You both groan from the feeling, gripping each other tighter and starting to build up a faster rhythm. It's easy to get lost in this feeling, and you lose track of what you mumble and chant while Caleb picks up the pace. But while you struggle to keep your eyes on him, he can't stop staring.

He also can't keep his hands off you while fucking you nice and deep. His fingers toy with your nipples, rolling and pinching them to get more sounds out of you. And then they caress your stomach, pushing down slightly right above your mound to elevate the feeling of how he fills you up. You stutter and shake, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a breathless kiss.

His lips find yours again and again between thrusts, sharing his breath with you before he whispers, "Fuck, I love you."

That sentence sends your thoughts to a screeching halt, but your pussy clenches even harder around him. You should be appalled that he's saying such a thing so soon. You should reconsider this whole relationship and how quickly you've allowed it to escalate.

You should, but you don't want to. In fact, you think you love him too.

Feeling your second orgasm barreling toward you too fast, you crash your lips against his again, nails digging into his shoulders and leaving little red crescents.

“Hm, I…love you too,” you babble, after breaking the kiss. Your brain practically short-circuits with how close you are to coming. You can't stop the words spilling out of your mouth. “Love you so much. Don’t stop, oh, don’t stop—”

The second those words leave your lips, a switch seems to flip in Caleb's brain. His whole body locks up for one heartbeat, buried deep inside you, cock throbbing hard enough that you feel it pulse against your walls. Then he exhales a ragged sound against your mouth, and the slower, careful rhythm he’d been holding onto shatters. His hips snap harder, punching the air from your lungs and making your eyes roll back.

“You can't take that back now,” he growls, his voice alarmingly different from the sweet, hesitant Caleb who kissed your wrist like it was sacred.

He’s moving faster, rougher, but still so deep it feels like he’s trying to carve himself into you permanently. Your foreheads stay pressed together, making it impossible to look away from the wild, glassy look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he groans, like it's a fact and not a hypothetical. “I'll put a ring on this finger"—he snatches the same hand he’s been obsessed with all night and brings it to his lips to kiss the bare spot where a ring would sit—“and make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

This is so wrong, god this is so wrong. Everything is moving so fast. You shouldn't like this. You can't tell if this is just dirty talk or something more serious, but that look in Caleb's eyes is a little terrifying.

And yet? Your cunt flutters hard around him at the words, more of your arousal gushing down and soaking the sheets beneath you.

“Oh, fuuuck, that's it," he says with a manic laugh, folding your legs higher until your knees are pressed up against your sweaty chest. "I can feel how much you like this, baby. It's okay if you do," he coos. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to hear you moan like this. You’re mine—only ever gonna be mine. Say it again for me, sweetheart." His voice cracks, and it's the only thing making you refocus on his words while your ears ring from the pleasure. "Say you love me while I fill you with my cum.”

You’re beyond proper speech now, just broken whimpers and gasps, but you manage to choke out, “Love you—I love you, Caleb.”

He slams in one last time, hips grinding flush against yours, cock pulsing as he comes with a choked sob that makes your toes curl. Your pussy spasms and clamps around him, milking him dry as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Turns out you're just as crazy in love as he is. And you don't have it in you to be ashamed right now.

Caleb's counting his lucky stars that he spent all those nights watching you touch yourself through the flickering camera feeds he set up. It's what helped him learn all the ways you like to be caressed, the speed you prefer when you have a silicone cock deep inside you, and the fantasies you'd whisper to yourself when you imagined someone above you.

You won't need fantasy anymore, though. He knows everything about you. That's why he's able to make you cream on his cock over and over again, while his hips move at a speed even he didn't know he was capable of.

The gravity of this moment—of finally claiming the person he's going to keep for the rest of his life—is heady. It makes Caleb insatiable and greedy for more. More of your addicting sounds, more of your shaking orgasms, more of his cum spilling deep inside you.

More, more, more. Caleb can't stop chanting it each time you melt and rake your nails against his back and allow him to take everything from you.

You're so pretty, so perfect, all his. It goes straight to his head, and his cock, when you beg for all that he's giving you even when your body is so weak that it can't hold itself up.

You like being pushed to your limit, it seems. Right when you become too exhausted to keep your eyes open, you sleepily tell him he can keep going if he wants to. He can't help but come inside you again just from hearing your whispered permission to use you while you fall asleep.

The fact that you trust him so readily…god, he knew you were made for him. He doesn't keep you awake too long, even though his cock already throbs insistently for more of your warmth after he pulls out with a groan.

Caleb is no stranger to patience. He's glad he waited to find you. Because now he'll never let you go—and there will be many more days to spend reminding you of that if you ever forget.

No matter what happens now, you're bound to him forever. Fate made sure of it.

a/n: thank you all for the 2k celebration votes 💕 I hope I made good on our wish for more scaryleb teehee

and none of this would be possible without my ride or die @heartyluv, who constantly inspires me with her takes on scaryleb and toxic!caleb. everyone say a big thank you to her bc she let me yap about this fic to her and she beta read it for meeee, ilysm Jay 😘

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You watch him work on slotting the two parts together, his large, vascular hands manipulating the delicate plastic with a gentleness that reminded you of yourself––of the restraint he showed when holding you.

He was bigger, after all. So much bigger. All of him.

"There," he says, holding out the expertly joined pieces for you to take. "They fit."

"You forced them."

He looks at the pieces, then to you. "Nah, they fit perfectly. See?" He gestures for you to take them––to see for yourself.

You refuse, unmoving.

He tilts his head. "What's wrong?"

"You're stronger than me."

His lips twitch a little in one corner. "Only a little."

You shake your head, frowning.

"Alright," he says, "Much stronger. Happy?" He asks, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"And bigger."

His eyes drop, analysing, like he hasn't noticed before. Then, a little smile. "Only a little."

You crawl a little closer. Settling on your knees in front of him. "Much bigger."

"Is that right?" he questions, amused.

"Look," you say, holding your palm up for him to meet with his own. His eyes make a slight flick away from your face to your joined hands—to the way his fingers curl over yours comfortably.

"Maybe I just have very… very, large hands," he says as his fingers make a path down your palm to wrap around your wrist. His eyes flick across your face. Then, "Should we check the rest of me, too? Check how much bigger I am?"

He was teasing. Playing. Testing. You could turn around and return to your model, and he'd continue on just as he had before: a calm, warm presence.

Instead, you untuck your legs from beneath you, and keeping your eyes on his, you lower yourself onto your back––hair splayed out across the carpet. He’s pulled a little towards you as he refuses to release your wrist, angling down over you.

A pause.

"Alright," he says finally, much like he had when you'd passed him your two difficult plane parts. "Let gege see."

He lifts himself to his knees and shuffles even closer. Then he lifts your legs and arranges them around his waist and hips, slotting himself up against you.

"Hm," he hums, looming over you, blocking out the sun through the window behind him. "You do look very small like this." His hand snakes up your thigh. A smile pulls at his lips. "You'll stay still for me while I check, won't you? You can be good for gege and stay nice and still.”

Despite your nod––a silent promise to obey, to be good––he keeps his grip on your ankle as he works to undo the button at his waistband. Control. You didn’t mind it at all. Control was safe.

And when he shoves his pants down just below his ass, he closes the gap between you again, pressing himself between your thighs.

His movements are slow, precise, like they’d been as he manipulated the tiny little plastic pieces. A hand snaking its way up your calf. His warm palm wrapping around your thigh as his heavy cock, confined in dark briefs, rests against your white cotton underwear.

“See?” you squeak as he rocks his hips once against you. “All of you is bigger. We wouldn’t fit.”

“Wouldn’t fit?” he questions, mocking.

Then, without warning, he hooks his thumb into the waistband of his briefs and tugs them down to free himself. Hard, and a little pink at the tip, it adds to his looming presence over you.

Using one hand to hold your hips slightly off the ground, up against him nice and close, he uses the other to press his cock down against your belly.

His head tilts a little.

“I could make it fit,” he announces, sounding a little distracted, eyes fixed where he measures himself against you. “Would stretch your pretty little hole open,” he says. “Might hurt a little… But you could bite my hand, yeah? You can take it out on gege.”

You shift a little, starting to squirm.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru would try anything to get you blushing. they'd show up to the house in the tightest compression shirts and lowest of sweat pants, all in an effort to keep your pretty eyes on them whenever you left your room for food or water. they'd subtly flex their muscles when you came in the kitchen, or make a show of stretching their arms up to reveal their toned stomach and increasingly growing erections.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru would toy with their throbbing cocks through their pants as they walked by you, pretending like they were just readjusting and looking at you with low and lustful eyes. they'd snicker when they caught your face growing hot and bothered.

brother's!bestfriend satoru would sometimes sneak off to find you on his own. if you were standing against the counter in the kitchen with nanami and suguru just a room away, he'd slide in behind you, hold your waist tight and push his dick against your ass. you'd involuntarily let out a squeak that would soon be muddled by his big hand slapping over your mouth.

"shh, shh, shh." he'd say so sweetly. "we don't want suguru getting jealous now, do we?" he'd smile, burying his nose behind your ear and inhaling, making your skin bloom with goosebumps. ones he'd then smooth over with his other hand that creeped its way up until it was gripped around your throat. "such a good girl for me."

after brother's!bestfriend suguru caught wind of satoru's little side quests, he'd made it a point to start showing off just a little more, really letting you know who the hotter guy was. late at night when they were staying over, he'd leave the bathroom door wide open after having a shower, leaving him in a low slung towel and rippling, dripping abs. you'd stumble in with sleep in your eye expecting it to be empty, i mean, the door was open so wouldn't it be? only to be met with the hunk of a man. he'd shut the door behind you before you could quickly rush out. caging you in against the wood as you almost screamed in surprise.

"oh? didn't take you for a pervert, sweetheart. couldn't resist seeing me naked and dripping wet, hm?" he'd whisper lowly into your ear.

"i'm sorry i was just- i thought-"

"shh. you don't have to explain anything, it's okay to be curious. i mean, you've probably never seen a guy... like this, before, have you?" he smiled, his body pressing yours into the door further, his towel being held up by the force between you. "be a good girl and let me treat you how i know you want."

he laughed under his breath as you wriggled away, zooming out the door with a flustered face.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru don't go to university with you and nanami, they see no point in it. they're both nepo babies with family companies lined up and waiting for them, so why the fuck were they at this party? this college party? you're sitting on a spongy leather couch as the night grows louder and louder with bad house music and the smell of spoiled alc, waiting for your friends to get back from the bathroom.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru have been watching you for twenty minutes. standing a ways off staring at you from across the room with that predatory stare. they'd been invited to this thing by nanami and a few of his mates for beer pong, but their main interest was that you'd be there as well.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru get a foul sense of jealousy when they see a tall, tatted up man with a pink undercut staring at you too long as you sit quietly by yourself. the man looks grimy. he was staring like he wanted to ruin your life, and they were not gonna let that happen, you were theirs to play with. just as he's about to approach you, suguru stomps over, grabs his shoulder and pushes him back.

"i'd think twice about that." the black haired man spat, followed by a taunting gojo.

"yeah, don't think she's into trashy tatted up meat heads."

sukuna was about to swing on one of them when toji intervened, pulling him away mumbling a, "just let it go, man."

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru look back at you sitting so sweetly in that tiny little dress and stalk up to you, sitting down on either side as your eyes widen with that delicious look of shock.

"don't you think that dress's a little short? can see those pretty pink panties if i look at the right angle." satoru starts, throwing an arm around the back of the seat and letting his hand grip your shoulder possessively.

"he's right, baby. if the wrong guy got an idea, he could throw you over his shoulder and waltz you out of this party like it's no one's business." suguru adds.

satoru laughs at that. "wouldn't want our poor girl getting taken advantage of, hmm?"

you want to cry. their stares feel so heavy you can't speak, their hands begin to wander. they're reminding you just how much power they really have over you.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru spent the rest of that night pulling you around by the arm, pushing you up against whatever quiet hallway they could find to leave marks all over your neck.

"we don't want anyone else getting the wrong idea, do we sweetheart?" suguru sighed in between bites. not having you in a house where they knew you were safe and away from other men's prying eyes was driving both of them, and their cocks, insane.

"we're doing this for your safety, sweet girl." satoru smiled against your skin.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru are possessive, sure, but they're still bullies at heart. ones that take it too far too often, and don't like when you think you're in control. about a week after the party, you come out into the lounge and find them sitting there, you blush like a school girl at the memory of them leaving those marks that aren't fully healed yet.

they don’t fully plan to make you cry. they just don’t stop when they see it coming. it starts off with satoru laughing when you hesitate answering a question, he'd asked you why you'd covered up the left over hickeys like you had some sort of say in when you could show them off.

“god, you really are slow sometimes.”

suguru backs him up immediately when you look at him for some sort of help, he's quieter but worse. “don’t look at me like that. you know he’s right.” they keep talking over you, correcting you, twisting your words until you give up trying to explain.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru notice when you go quiet after stumbling over your words for too long. suguru tilts his head mockingly.

“what, did we hurt your feelings?”

satoru snorts. “seriously? you’re gonna get upset over that, crybaby?” you shake your head, but your eyes betray you. satoru leans in, voice deep and so mocking. “nah, look. she is. fuck, you’re fragile.”

suguru steps closer, crowding your space. “you let people get to you way too easy. that’s embarrassing.”

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru smile when the first tear slips and they both see it. satoru goes still for a second, then smiles wider. “holy shit. look at us go.” suguru exhales through his nose, watching your face carefully. “you're such a sooky girl, that's a major turn off, you know.” what a liar.

that’s when it really falls apart. you swipe at your face, mortified, and satoru clicks his tongue. “aw, don’t wipe it away. own it.” suguru adds, calm and cruel, “you wanted our attention. this is part of it.”

you try to step back and suguru lets you, but not before saying, “go on. run to your room.” satoru calls after you, almost cheerful. “don't tell nanami! he wouldn't belive you anyways.” they don’t follow. they don’t comfort you. that’s the point. they liked breaking you down just to build you back up again.

after brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru had their fix of seeing you all teary eyes and emotionally destroyed, they'd flip the switch and start treating you like a princess. (a princess in their words, at least.) they'd caught you walking home from uni with they pull up next to you in gojo's car and offer you a ride home. you deny them at first, saying you could get home on your own, but they insist that there's a storm coming and you shouldn't be walking around getting your white shirt all wet.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru snicked internally when you hopped into the back seat. they gave eachother a look that said, 'she's so easy.' when you get to your apartment, satoru pulls out a cute plushie from the glove box and hands it over to you. like he'd planned this.

"a cute toy for an even cuter girl." he'd smile, punching your cheek as suguru winked at you through the rear view mirror.

you were more than confused. one day they had you sobbing and humiliated in your own lounge room and the next they were gifting you soft toys and calling you cute ? these men were the pinnacle of mixed signals and red flags. yet you could never shake the ever growing heat in between your legs whenever you'd finish speaking with them...

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru start noticing that you don’t pull away as fast anymore. satoru leans so close when he talks, watching your face instead of your eyes. when you don’t immediately step back, he smiles with an insane look in those blue pools.

“look at that,” he says, crazily amused. “she’s learnin’.”

suguru’s hand settles at the small of your back. “or she’s finally being honest with herself. knew you'd fold eventually.” you should move, but you don’t. suguru’s thumb presses once into your hip, approving. “yeah. that’s better.”

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru get oh so cruel about the way you look at them now. satoru catches you staring and tilts his head.

“aww, you gonna say somethin’, or just keep eye fuckin’ me like that?” your mouth opens, nothing comes out. suguru steps in, fingers lifting your chin just enough to make you look at him.

“don’t tease if you can’t follow through,” he says quietly. then he lets you go, leaving the words sitting there like a challenge you don’t hate.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru start to push until you finally push back. satoru makes a comment about how obedient you’ve been lately, waiting for you to shrink. instead you mutter, “shut up.”

the room goes still. satoru’s grin goes sharp. “oh?” suguru laughs under his breath, clearly pleased. “see? told you she had it in her.” satoru leans in close, voice low. “careful. talk like that and we might start thinkin’ you want something.”

you don’t deny it. and that’s when they both look at you like they’ve been waiting for this the whole time.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru corner you in the bathroom late, light buzzing overhead, door locked before you even realise what they're scheming. satoru leans back against the sink, eyes dragging over you. “your marks are fading,” he says very disappointed. “people might start thinkin’ you’re not taken care of.”

suguru steps closer, fingers hooking under your sleeve, tugging it down just enough to check your smooth shoulder. “can’t have that. you forget what happens when strangers get ideas?” you try to argue but your voice is weak, and satoru laughs softly. “see, this is why we help you.”

you whisper that nanami will notice. satoru grins. “nah. not if you cover up around the house.”

"but you guys told me not to do th-" they cut you off with a nip to your neck.

they crowd you between tile and counter, their hands hold you firmly in place as they suck and bite and moan into the skin on your collarbones and shoulders. when they finally pull back, your reflection tells the story better than words. suguru straightens your collar like he’s done you a favor.

“there,” he says. “now you’re safe again.”

“don’t act shocked next time,” suguru adds. “you know we’re just doin’ what’s best for you.”

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru are oblivious to the fact that you've been guiltily obsessed with the way they treat you. so, when they're back at their own places, stroking themselves raw into the panties they stole from your dresser one time, they've got no clue you're doing the same, only with the thought of them teasing you behind eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru would invite themselves into your room whenever they felt like it. but this time, they'd knocked after hours like they weren't already halfway through the door, and let out curses under their breaths at the sight of you, half naked, rubbing cute little circles against your clit with your legs spread wiiiide open. moaning their names.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru thrived off of the sight of you noticing them, then scurrying to cover your body with your scrunched up sheets. you were looking at them completely mortified, and nothing got their cocks harder.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru wasted no time snickering like the bullies they were and imitating your whines, pretending to rub their non existent clits. "f-fuck! ngh! suguru keep going!" gojo mimicked, rolling his eyes back while suguru cackled.

"such dirty noises coming from such a sweet girl." suguru'd comment, watching as tears started to pool in your eyes.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru cooed and faked a pout as they watched them fall, stepping up to the bed and sitting on the edge. suguru took the side of your cheek into his palm and rubbed across the skin, while gojo stoked your hair.

"it's okay baby, we won't tell anyone what a pleasure hungry whore you are." gojo taunted, dragging his predatory eyes over your body still covered in linen sheets.

"mhm, just promise to stay sweet and pliant for us, and nanami doesn't have to hear about his slut of a sister crying out his best friends names." suguru added.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru slipped their shirts off and ripped the sheets away from your body, sandwiching you between them with noises of appreciation. suguru's hunky arms snaked around your shoulders from behind as he held you tightly against his chest, his –admittedly– huge length pressing into your lower thighs.

"be still for toru, baby. you wanted this, didn't you." it wasn't a question, he was stating a fact.

"that's right, honey. you're out here moaning like a little nymph for us, might as well give you what you want, hm?" gojo smirked, taking in all of you before pinching your hard nips.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru took turns holding you against them as the other explored your perfect body. satoru was pressing his middle and pointer against your clit squeezing the bud between the tips, licking up your neck to whisper in your ear. "such a beautiful little thing." you yelped as he bit down on the lone.

"stop being greedy, satoru. it's my turn."

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru had you dripping from their words alone, being pushed inbetween them and being called a pathetic pervert was really doing it for you, so much so that suguru's thigh that was wedged between yours was soaked with your arousal. satoru was playing with your nipples as he kissed down your neck.

"you wanna ride my thigh baby? is that what you need?" suguru watched as you gasped with each suck from satoru, nodding your head shyly.

"yes please.."

he smiled cynically at your whiney state. before you could do it yourself, his big hands came down to your hips and started grinding them down onto his leg for you. "good girl, let me do all the work." control freak.

brother's!bestfriends satoru was feeling left out. he eased up on marking u land down your neck to pull out his cock, slapping it against your thigh like an impatient kid. "be good f'me and use that pretty hand for something useful." he smiled, with it widening when your smaller hand gripped his base gently.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru had fantasied about this moment for months. what it would be like to fuck you so hard you passed out, together. now that you wanted it just as much as them, their heads started pooling with more sick and deranged thought.

"you're a virgin, aren't you baby?" satoru asked in between groans from your surprisingly good handjob.

"m-mhm!" you managed to squeak out past sugurus rough motions.

"i'm taking it-" satoru spouts,

"-i'm taking it." suguru says at the same time.

hmm.. awkward.

brother's!bestfriends satoru and suguru give eachother a look, one you've seen so many times now, one you've come to expect.

"we've always been good at sharing, you know."

"think you can handle two at the same time?"

© 2025 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

i understand this isn't everyone's cup of tea, if it's not yours, i kindly do not want to hear about it in my comments or asks, thank you ❤️ (i sound like a bitch omg i'm so sorry 😭)

n e wayyysss i thought i'd give you guys a little spicier treat before i go on a small little break ❤️ i feel sort of disconnected to my actual being at the moment, i think ive been too invested in my online life rn so 💔 ill be back soon ! >_0

When they part, he gives her a pat on the shoulder (as opposed to rustling her meticulously-styled hair) and tells her not to worry. She’ll do great. This is a big day for her; he pleasantly remembers his own ceremony and urges that hers will be just as smooth.

It seems good enough for her. She’s dragged off by her friend, skipping hand-in-hand, and her nervous giggles ring in his head in a building full of noisy people. It might as well be a little pin dropping in a quiet room.

Sometimes Caleb almost forgets just how much stock that girl- his precious little meimei- puts into him and his words. It stirs something tender in his heart, and then he recalls his true feelings and it twists. Twists like a knife or the bitter truth.

There’s only a couple years between them, and yet during her graduation, Caleb can’t help but feel a sense of pride tug in his chest alongside something deeply bittersweet.

She’ll for sure be spreading her wings now. She’ll for sure be leavin’ him behind.

And he’ll have to say yes to it, that it’s fine with him. Pretend like he doesn’t care. He’s got a natural talent at dissimulating his intriciate, troublesome feelings, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. No, sometimes he just wishes she’d… see him. See him for what he truly is and not run in the other direction screaming, who are you and what did you do to my gege?

But that’s selfish, isn’t it? He huffs with a small, wry smile.

While waiting for the event to commence, Gran eagerly watches the stage, and Caleb lowers his head.

She’ll be spreading her wings for real, an inner voice murmurs again, rubbing it in his face. And then she’ll fly away. Never come back to you. Leave our nest to make a new one.

That, oh, that thought— Caleb’s not a generally angry person, but that has choler flaring in his chest... Imagining somebody standing by her side that isn’t him fills him with a darkness he cannot label. But he’s trying to be good, a good older brother. He’s been… trying for so long, and…

Even if he knows deep down that if he doesn’t do something, she’ll fly away—

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Gran says beside him. She tucks her hand in the crook of his strong arm and he returns half the dimpled smile on her face.

Her words cannot be truer. His little sister is breathtaking; it’s the kind of beauty that will bring a man to his knees and plant soft longing in his heart. Evidently, though, it’s not the kind of beauty to bring a dog to heel…: she’s like a bowl of kibble and something rotten in him salivates at the smell of it.

It’s funny, you know, how much of a hypocrite he is. He gives her the saddest puppy eyes to get what he wants but there’s a big mean dog hiding in his heart. Barking and wanting.

Caleb curses himself. On the outside, he hums fondly. “Always. Hm… To be able to say I’m her big brother feels like an accomplishment in itself. I’m real proud’a her.”

Gran’s not looking at him; all eyes in the auditorium, including his, are leveled towards the stage and the spotlight raining over students shuffling in gowns. Caleb is thankful for that. Caleb has had a distinct self awareness since middle school, and he knows better than to let the love in his eyes- the kind that’s not entirely brotherly- reveal itself to any onlookers.

He’s kept on his toes by all the secrets he walks with. He’s kept on his toes by her.

“I can’t believe this day has come,” the elderly woman beside him (not tied to him by any biological means, but he loves her regardless) holds a tissue to her eyes and fights a teary smile. Caleb, utterly entranced by the familiar figure slowly inching closer to the podium and administrator, gives a noncomittal hum to show he’s heard, but his heart is knocking at the sight of his little sister. He can’t stop it. He can’t even slow it.

“Ah, my sweet girl…” (And why her sorrow-tinged, doting words echo some of the ones he keeps to himself, Caleb stopped caring.)

Gran, still not glancing at her adopted boy (albeit, there is close to nothing about Caleb that now resembles a boy), takes his large hand in her wrinkled one. Her free one dabs away an elusive tear.

“It’ll be even harder to see once she moves out and all. I’m sure she’ll want to keep exploring the world. I just… I just hope she visits more than you do, dear,” her voice warbles with sadness, but she’s only teasing him out of love.

A breathy, uneven laugh escapes his pursed lips. Caleb swallows thickly, “Yep. But that’s natural, wantin’ to find new opportunities and such... She’s really coming outta her shell, isn’t she? And… she’d better visit,” he says playfully, “The dinner table would feel awfully quiet without her during the holidays, huh?”

He’s not conscious of half the things he’s saying, operating under autopilot: robotically, he speaks in the voice of a teasing, somewhat protective older brother and nobody bats an eye to it.

On the inside, his feelings experience endless turbulence.

But he’d miss her if she left, that’s for certain. Words could never do him justice. He’s never exactly deserved that, though, has he?

He smiles to himself. Pathetic.

He told a nosey friend, once, that he had lost his marbles long ago. He’d said it with a smile- a genuine one, too- and as if it was no big deal. Because Caleb reconciled with his sin nature long ago.

He’s so proud of his meimei. So caught up by her.

Wants to marry her. Wants to blow all his pilot earnings on a big glittering ring for her precious little finger, wants to make all those childhood games, the ones where he played the dad and she the mom, come to life. Oh, if he’s being perfectly honest, he wants to—

“Caleb, honey, are you coming?”

A papery hand gives his bicep a gentle squeeze beneath his button-up. He’s pulled from his reveries and he blinks, noting the crowd as it begins to thin out and the stage that meimei has stepped off of. “She’ll be waiting for us, I’m sure. And nervous,” she explains with a light laugh, “but I think she’s very excited, too.”

(So excited to start your new life apart from me, huh, sis?)

The lower half of his face reshapes into a small smile as he looks down at Gran and nods with reassurance. He’s so good at providing consolation to others but somehow consistently fails to do so during his lone moments of self-reflection.

“I’d promised her I’d treat her to some ice cream at that new stall that just opened up,” he chuckles, and this time it does harbor some real mirth there, his eyes lighting, “I honestly think she was more excited for a special dessert than her own graduation.”

Gran laughs at that, too.

Then, he’s led away. Led to her and happy as a child.

After the ceremony ends, his very real fears of her suddenly leaving are put to rest for a moment when she leaps into his arms- just as she did when they were younger- and locks him in a hug.

He’ll always be a willing prisoner, in that regard. A slave to her affections and the strange sickness that rears its head in the pit of his stomach even when he tries his best to drown it.

She’s his lifering. The one thing keeping him afloat.

He looks over his shoulder, back at the shore. There’s a striking realization that he’s been dragged so far from it… And then he looks back out to sea.

Sometimes, Caleb thinks he’s closer to the point where the waves converge on the endless horizon than he is to dry land. And that’s fine with him. Because Meimei is holding his hand, doggy-paddling beside him.

He knows he shouldn’t try to drag her under. But sometimes, that’s all he fucking wants. For her to feel this way, too.

What a selfish gege.

✷✷✷

Caleb’s frame is hugged by an intense, golden light. Windchimes tinkle in the breeze and bring a nexus of soothing sounds.

The air is balmy. Unsmistakably summer.

You kick a pebble from your shoe and look over to Caleb with a small smile, his long legs keeping an even pace with you despite your slower one and all the dillydallying. The sun flares off one side of his head and it’s so bright you have to squint.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, you know,” even as he reminds you, he can’t fight off the grin playing at his own lips. It’s not exactly like he wants to truncate this moment with you, but hunger is creeping up on you both just as sundown is, and this brisk walk is urging it out. Your belly has voiced as much. After his laugh had died down, Caleb showed his concern but sighed when you brushed it off.

“It’s fine,” you tell him again. “I’m not fully dependent on snacks, you know,” and a dirty voice in the back of his head, a very dark corner, accuses, then what do you depend on? “We won’t starve if we eat one hour later... I mean, how hungry are you?” You poke.

(A lot. So much, Meimei.)

A casual smile curls his lips. Everything about him is so outwardly relaxed when he’s with you; it’d take some intense scrutiny to pick up on the little tells of restlessness he constantly shoehorns down inside him.

Anything to protect you though, right? Even if that means from himself.

He replies with thought, “Ehh… I guess walking a little farther wouldn’t hurt,” he shrugs with one shoulder, a teasing edge to his voice because those old habits die hard.

“Just don’t tell me to carry you if your feet start to hurt, pipsqueak.”

“Hah. As if! You know, I’ve been training a lot. Those hunter exams might even be harder than the Aviation’s.” Your light banter is rewarded with a small, incredulous laugh and a playful raise of his brow. Right now, he looks so boyish, youth lighting his face even as you pass under the tinsel-like leaves of a shady willow tree. “I’m serious, Caleb! My body’s probably more endurant than yours now.”

A challenge is brewing, and the signs are obvious. The anticipating glint in his eye, the slight posturing in his steps and the downright valorous grin you pin at him— all are suggestive of an upcoming game. He just has to throw his own hat over the wall to officially mark its start.

Of course, he does just that.

“Oh, really now?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle with amusement. He gives his head a tilt. “Are you trying to provoke me, sis? ‘Cause I’ll have you know that these muscles aren’t just for show...”

With a pout, you give his arm, thick and fully exposed under the frayed fabric of his tank, a harmless shove. Caleb’s heart has an anomalistic skip and his bicep tingles. It takes a considerable amount of effort to not snatch your little wrist up and force you to do it again.

“Oh, c’mon, you may be all big and strong now, but all that muscle will just slow you down.” (You’re getting him all sorts of riled up today, aren’t you? It’s good to know you look at him, that you acknowledge the man he’s become.)

“Do you wanna test that theory? We could do a race,” he suggests simply, a fluctuation of excitement in his voice betraying itself. “Because I’m ready to go right now.”

You huff, competitive as ever. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

You roll your cropped sleeves an inch over your shoulders (as if to replicate his sleeveless tee) and Caleb watches with humor as they unfurl immediately. You dart your head around and land on a streetlamp at the end of the quiet, cobbled path.

”There,” you point, “that light over there will be the finish line. You have to touch it before the other person does or you lose. You’ll be a rotten egg.”

“You’re so childish.”

“You’re racing too, y’know.”

“Alright, alright,” he easily surrenders, lifting his palms up. Truthfully, he has no intentions of backing out now, try as he might to pretend he’s not equally invested in this as you. He sets his feet behind a crack in the paved stone, right beside yours, and nonchalantly prepares himself for liftoff. “But when I win—“

“Your toe’s in front of the line, Gege! Don’t think I didn’t see it!”

“—Don’t go cryin’ to Gran like old times and ignore me for the rest of the day, okay?”

A fleeting pink colors your cheeks, flowering across your face like a bruise at the mention. “Geez,” you deflect bashfully, “You’re so caught up in the past, Caleb.”

The accusation isn’t unwarranted. Your older brother has this strange penchant to keep all your childhood traits like a bag of tokens in his back pocket, forever ready to pull one out on a whim.

His gaze lowers for a moment at your innocuous teasing, and you watch with a mix of confusion and guilt as an offhand sadness weighs in his expression.

You open your mouth, about to find something to remedy the ever so slight shift in the air, but he lifts his head and his eyes are cheerful. Sunny and bottomless.

He looks at you infinitely. It’s as startling as it is endearing.

Your brow relaxes when you give him a once-over and sense no lingering sorrow there, or any evidence that it even appeared to begin with. Maybe it’s just the heat getting to you.

“Well,” he smiles, teasing to a fault. “You ready, or… do you plan on chickenin’ out? I’ll let you if you admit defeat right now. Otherwise, don’t be a sore loser.”

You wave him off and level your eyes forward. “Psssh, sore loser….” Thrill beats in your ears with a rushing current of blood. You plant your hands to the gritty cobblestone and lean forward.

“The moment you agreed,” your little grin sparks back to life, “you lost, Gege.”

Oh, and he is just the rotten egg, isn’t he? The perverted dud and the lying, selfish asshole.

The wormy apple.

✷✷✷

There’s just some things in life you can never quite wipe from your memory.

Here’s one: The first time Caleb was called a sister-fucker.

He remembers that day and how condemning it felt. Like he’d been made the object of some irrevocable curse. It was unwarranted, it was: some stupid playground bullies were mouthing off after he rushed to your rescue for the umpteenth time, and the word flew like a witch would on a broom. Caleb was not prepared for that stab in his little heart.

That was in middle school, and he was angry. Ashamed, too. All sorts of clashing feelings, really. Those little brats said the f-word in front of you, his innocent little meimei, and to make matters worse, Caleb was not sure if the majority of his anger should lie with their accusation or his inability to determine whether it was grounded or not.

He was hardly fourteen, then, and you were twelve. He never laid his hands on you that way. No, never thought about it. He hardly had the capacity to, at that time.

At that time.

But that moment stayed with him,… and that dirty, dirty epithet was one that remained around the block until one day something peaked in him- that shame climbing to its point- and he beat it from their mouths.

It never did end up getting back around to you. For a number of reasons, Caleb is glad for that. Just to name a couple: It saved him from the flaming red ears, and the awkward chat the bird-and-the-bees topic surely would have been.

When it got around to Gran, though…

‘Caleb, dear, is there…’ The elderly woman, for all her experience in fostering children, was not exactly sure how to broach the subject- which was oddly risqué, and downright horrifying it if were to be true- with her young boy.

But she didn’t think it was true: sure, the two were exceptionally close, she trailed him like a lost puppy and he had some underlying impulse to anchor himself beside her at any given time, but they laughed and played and Caleb was always the archetype of a- sometimes cheeky, sometimes clingy- older brother.

Their behavior was considered very normal for their circumstances, she’d thought. They seemed inseparable upon the first meet. With their close bond came the occasional spat and meaningless argument, but that only served as more proof of their strictly sibling dynamic, too.

Gran thought about it for only a moment before finding her peace, and shortly after her words.

‘Why are those boys saying such things? What did you do to make them have it out for you?’ She was gentle but firm with him. Caleb was not afraid of her; just maybe the awful, creeping feeling in his gut that told him he was in the wrong after all.

‘N-Nothin’, Gran… They got upset because I wouldn’t let them pick on Meimei… Don’t worry though, I covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear them.’

But it’s not like he ever imagined actually laying his hands on you— L-Let alone fucking. Even as a boy, he had the sound-enough subconscious to shut away those fleeting, invasive thoughts and put some space between you two when he was feeling… extra confused.

Caleb’s twenty-one now, though. And you’re nineteen and things are different. Those tender, innocent feelings of love from your shared youths- the one-sided romance of your bond- has by now fully realized itself. It’s bled out into ruby-red fingers of desire like watercolor on a page, and they grasp Caleb tight. Refuse to let go. He’s not a boy anymore. And he’s not particularly kind anymore, either. His softness is a luxury that only you’re entitled to but every touch feels like a beatdown because of it.

Yeah he might be overbearing sometimes but you’re just as abrasive. You cut him in ways you could never know.

But Caleb’s not a sister-fucker. He’s not.

And he’s not all the shame associated with that title and the big fat cluster of intricate emotions like guilt, loneliness, and terrible, terrible longing… H-He’s not.

No— He hasn’t even fucked you yet.

✷✷✷

Two weeks. Caleb is allotted two weeks off from his responsibilities at the Aerospace Academy to spend the start of summer with you.

Late June marks your graduation and the beginning of an exciting break the both of you had been planning for months to share. Between a taxing schedule and study papers that pile up if he so much as thinks about holding off on them, Caleb is a bit pressed for free time. He’d been counting down the days until he arrived back in Linkon.

Now that it’s finally here- your mini summer ‘vacation’, as you’d called it- he won’t take any of it for granted.

He’s savored every little moment with you since childhood- no stranger to the sentimental. But as you emerge from your bedroom with a cute bikini with a white frilly skirt that hardly covers your ass, Caleb decides this memory needs to be given a little extra care.

You flutter past him and down the hall, sheepishly nodding for him to follow, and he realizes he’s been staring a little too long without saying anything. He plasters on a nonchalant grin and sticks his hands in the pockets of his swim trousers. “Okay, sis…” He compliments in his tone.

“You, uh… you ready to go now?” He asks, propping himself against the kitchen arch to watch you pour yourself some water. He reminds that there’s juice in the fridge and you quickly forego the tap. He chuckles at that.

You try to hide a shy smile from him, too much energy in your heels to not sway as you move around the kitchen. There’s a small ball of nerves in your belly and you can’t help but feel a bit naked in your two-piece. You bought it because you’d thought it was adorable, but truthfully you feel a bit out of place- under scrutiny, maybe- as you uncap the fruit juice.

“I’m ready,” you announce casually. “But did you see my bathing suit?”

“W-What about it? Yeah, it… looks nice.” He answers a bit breathlessly.

You look over your shoulder before picking up your glass and marching over. His gaze flutters when you do, like he’s bracing himself for something. In stature, he’s nothing like the round-faced kid you grew up with, standing over six feet tall with lean muscle to hug his broad frame, but right now, he looks almost boyish with anticipation.

On the way to him, you stuff down that inexplicable kernel of unease. You pretend your pulse isn’t fastening, too.

A quasi reaction of fight-or-flight stirs in your chest. For the life of you you don’t know why. Maybe you don’t wanna know.

You smile. Gege, solid arms folded over his muscled chest, regards you with a strange look. It disappears under a veneer of brotherly charm— gone like a feverish hot flash of something unreal.

You stop a few inches in front of him. “See?” You chirp, piking your shoulder up for him to observe. “The red polka dots are actually apples. Since you like them so much.”

After a pause- one that seems to stretch infinitely but is actually only brief- you watch Caleb’s cheeks turn to rubies. Heat flares at his ears.

He sets his jaw and lets out a small scoff, eyes flitting everywhere. “W-What are you sayin’, pipsqueak? You got it… just for me?”

“Ugh, no, Caleb!” You giggle with a hint of disbelief. “I just thought it was cute but wanted to show you.”

With an annoyed pout, you spin away from him and head for the island. On top of it, a cooler sits, its lid open. You nurse from your icy drink as you wedge a variety of cold beverages and the sandwiches he made at the bottom.

“Yeah, yeah,” he recollects himself and joins you at the counter, coming to your aid without prompting. “Well, I think it’s cute too. But don’tcha think it’s a little… showy? I’ll be sweating bullets the whole time we’re at the beach.”

You laugh under your breath, only half paying attention. Certainly not to the intense glint in his eye as he watches your profile, anyway. “Why? And you won’t be sweating if we’re in the water.”

“I don’t want any guys gettin’ the wrong idea,” he lilts, but there’s a notable tinge of seriousness there. “Thinkin’ my pipsqueak isn’t off limits.”

A soft pink warms your cheeks this time. “It’s fine, Caleb,” you murmur, dutifully ignoring his gaze- which you are now exceedingly aware of. “Everyone’ll be minding their own business- they’ll hardly be looking at me.”

Wryly, Caleb closes the cooler and raises his brow.

“Doubt it.”

He seems as if he has a lot more to say, but apparently holds off on it.

When you return home, it’s close to five and Gran has finished her errands. She sits in the living room on the lovechair, holding a cushion on her lap as she watches the news.

You hardly have time to greet her on the way down the hall: you bump shoulders and race with Caleb for the bathroom shower. Maybe he’s going a little easy on you (per usual), but you’re too tunneled in on reaching it in time to scold him for it.

“Ladies first!” You say with victory, grinning through the crack in the door as it groans with pressure, halfway open. Caleb crams his elbow in it to show he won’t give up so easily. You’re met with his bunched brow, his sun-dried, messy hair and a grudging smile he can’t quite fight off.

“Be a good gege and wait your turn!” You tell him.

The title weakens him. His hand falters and you manage to shut the door. The lock clicks softly.

“Alright, alright,” his voice sounds muted from the other side. His footsteps, retreating down the hallway after a belated few seconds, emit defeat.

Maybe some frustration, too.

Either that, or his feet have just gotten heavy.

“But if you use up all the hot water,” he warns, “I won’t let you help me with dinner. Just remember that. And let’s be real, I know you’re hungry.”

Well, he has you beat there. Maybe he knows you just as well as you do him.

It’s an endearing thought, actually; as the warm water pours, you slough away the sticky layer of sea salt and the sand glued to it with a smile. Once these two weeks are over, you’ll go right back to your normal life: your brother will return to the clouds and you’ll have to pretend, between a steady stream of pining texts and phonecalls meant to check in on you, that you don’t miss your gege. Even if sometimes, all you want is to leap back into time and hold his hand, cower behind his shoulder to escape the daunting fear of growing up.

You have responsibilities now. Dreams you’re meant to follow. You’ll train to be a hunter and then officially enroll into their program. Caleb will become a bonafide pilot within a couple months, achieving his lifelong dream, and might leave you in his proverbial contrails.

It’ll be just you and Gran, until you pack your boxes for an apartment downtown closer to your future workplace. Family will become a distant memory, a fading speck on the horizon or a phantom pain that tugs at your heart.

But… maybe that’s just what growing up means. Letting go of everything behind you. Caleb would certainly be able to relate with the sentiment that- other than each other and Gran- there was little to hold onto in the first place.

But… You’re not so sure about all of it. Maybe you’ll have to ask your gege for advice around the dinner table. You have no clue what will happen a month or year down the line, and to be perfectly honest that terrifies you, but for now—

You’ll make the most of this break with him and Gran all together.

✷✷✷

Half of it flies by in a blur.

Movie nights with buttery popcorn and long strolls by Bloomshore turn into fuzzy lines as soon as you look back at them. Once-quiet suppers with just you and Gran are revived with the cheerful presence of your brother, and the cabinets are filled with new snacks the two of you buy on impulse to test out.

You chase him around your cozy, childhood home demanding he deletes those awful pics of you- and the woman who took you both in as children calls from the couch for him to stop terrorizing you already.

He always swears it’s in good fun, but submits to your whining. Not without a flick to your forehead, though. It never hurts, but you make sure to stick your tongue in his face.

Evenings are spent on the floor by the coffee table.

Caleb busts out an old, wooden box from the closet and speaks in a wistful tone as you pass nostalgic photos and yellowed notes between each other. You’re about to poke at him for being so sentimental, but you spot a little mist in his eyes, so you refrain.

There’s six days left, tonight.

Neither of you remind the other of this ticking clock of sorts, but sometimes it will get quiet after a bout of laughter and you think you can feel it in the blanketing tension— the wordless countdown to zero.

X amount of days until I leave for Skyhaven. And, X amount of days until Caleb leaves us again.

You can hear it snicking like a stopwatch- and not the one Caleb wears.

A fan on the floor cools the balmy evening, but just a little.

You lie on your belly- utterly stuffed from another delicious meal- on his bed while he assembles a model. It’s some aircraft that you can’t hope to remember the name of, but he’s always gravitated towards that kind of thing, in more ways than one.

You kick your feet and moan with boredom when his eyes take on a very concentrated look and he hunches over the figure in his hands. He pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he’s so engrossed.

Many minutes seem to pass. “Are you almost done, Caleb? We were ‘sposed to watch a movie tonight.”

Without glancing up, he chuckles lightly. “Be patient, pipsqueak. You know, it’ll go faster if you help me out here,” he suggests, nodding towards a few wayward pieces on the edge of the mattress. He scoops them up before they call fall off.

”Or are ya just gonna watch me do all the work?” He looks up to you and smiles. It’s soft. Smitten, almost.

You huff. “Fine. Okay, I’ll help.”

“Knew ya wouldn’t leave me hangin’.”

Seemingly pleased, his purple eyes stare for a moment longer before lowering. They remind you of the nebula sometimes: all bottomless and resplendent, and sometimes they get a little starry if you catch them for too long.

You’ve seen them darken like black holes before, though; some deep chasm taking over whenever his protectiveness flares up or he asks you, with his hand held tightly in yours, who made you cry. Then, he’s a force to be reckoned with, devoid of warmth and sharp-edged.

“Caleb, can I… ask you something?”

Caleb glances up immediately. Noting the sobriety of your expression and the lack of playfulness in your tone, he gives a quick nod. He lowers the half-constructed model- the one his hands absolutely dwarf- as if it’s no longer important.

“Of course,” he says. He gives his head a little reassuring tilt. “If there’s anything you’re curious about, you can tell me.”

You let out a small sigh. “Will you visit again? Visit more, I mean?”

He blinks and appears contemplative for a few seconds. Yet, you get the strange feeling that it’s less him trying to formulate an answer and more like he’s trying to figure out just what prompted your asking in the first place.

“Sure, whenever I get time,” he answers with a simple shrug. “You know I wish I could be here all the time, sis… For you and Gran,” but mostly you, he doesn’t clarify, “but the Academy is no joke. I need to work hard if I want to get in.”

His endless scores of A’s and A-pluses reflect his convictions. It’s really only one subject he can’t find it in him to master: Those damned, annoying mental wellness checks. (He thinks that all those less than reputable scores— they don’t reflect him, they reflect you.)

He smiles. “Then, I’ll be able to really support us.”

“Yeah…” You sigh softly after a beat. “But, like… what if you stop visiting? You’ll find a girlfriend and then never come to see me and Gran again,” you mask your very real concerns with a weak laugh.

Caleb’s brow gives a little twitch.

His expression falls, then, like swirling grey clouds that nudge aside white fluffy ones. Something in your chest seizing, you understand it’s disgust that rewrites his pleasant visage.

You just… don’t know why.

“Why would I get a girlfriend?”

You stare on with confusion. For a moment, you feel stunned because you’ve never seen him make that face before.

It takes an extra second or two to lasso in your rationale and laugh. “Well, you’re like twenty-something now. Isn’t that just what happens? You’ll find a girlfriend and I guess I’ll find a boyfriend. I mean, I bet Gran will be happy too if one of us brings home some babies—“

A derisive scoff cuts you off. “Babies?” He throws back, peering up at you through long lashes. He takes on the perfect Kubrick stare.

The scathing sound of his voice and the shadowy look in his eyes is more than enough to zip your lips. “Don’t you think we’re a little too young for that? Besides, we don’t have to do anything right now… If we want to stay single, that’s perfectly fine.”

A few moments of uninterrupted silence pass and leave you with no choice but to reflect on your actions. You inwardly ask yourself if you did something wrong. It certainly feels that way.

You give your throat an inaudible clear. “I was just teasing, Caleb, geez,” you brush off his intense stare by looking down.

The aircraft model looks big and unbreakable in your grasp, a far cry from how it appears when held in his. You distract yourself from the startled beating of your heart by rotating it in your hand.

“Y-You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

You don’t meet his eye when saying that, not when he’s regarding you like you’re little more than prey or tomorrow’s dinner. No, you don’t dare to.

Gege is reliable by nature. But you suppose he can exhibit his fair amount of ‘intimidating’ when need be.

You feel an unseen weight lift off your shoulders (when they became cowed, you don’t know) when Caleb heaves a sigh.

He’s apologetic, “Sorry, sis. You’re right. Talking about it just… freaks me out a little. I mean, I barely have the time to even think about it, let alone prepare.” He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for your input.

When you look back up at him, it’s as if nothing ever happened. As if he never changed.

His eyes beam like indigo gems, sunny and unaffected. He leans forward to pat your head and it takes a strangely high amount of effort to not flinch under the weight of his palm.

If he notices, his mild expression doesn’t betray any signs.

“Why, what’s up?” He quirks a playful brow. “You’re not… Seeing someone, are you?” Caleb questions with a light laugh, hands moving to fold over the plastic plane in his hands, though his gaze remains level on you. Glued there like he physically cannot take it off until you provide him with an answer.

“Did my pipsqueak fall in love with some boy while I was gone?”

A harsh gust of wind escapes you at that. A laugh, you realize, or what’s supposed to be a laugh. You resume inserting pieces into place, adamant on building the miniature aircraft.

Your cheeks feel toasty. He’s managed to make you feel startled, ashamed, and bashful all within the span of a minute or two. It’s as impressive as it is whiplash-inducing.

Your gege is watching you very carefully as you lower your chin and purse your lips. “No…” you say sheepishly. “If I did, I’d be spending the summer with him instead of you,” you tease.

That proclamation rings loud in Caleb’s ears like a gunshot bang.

She’ll spread her wings, and fly away.

He should be joyous that there is still an absence of that ‘special someone’ in your life, that he indeed is the one spending the prelude to summer with you.

But all he feels is a lump of dread forming in his belly.

It fattens and makes it hard to breathe. She’ll spread her wings and fly away. Leave you in her dust and all the memories. All the love.

”Yeah? Well, consider me lucky then.”

Something in his chest plummets. Too rapid to catch it. Too monstrous to hope to.

He lets it sink. Feels himself going with it. It’s getting so hard to hold out, Meimei. But don’t look at him with those eyes of wide startle. It’s still the Caleb you loved from your childhood, your beloved Gege.

Just with a whole lotta love that you couldn’t even begin to fucking fathom.

…Six days. Six days left.

He’s been granted a final, measly six days to change your mind and convince you that he’s still got a place in your life, in your heart. That it’s reserved only for him.

An uncanny smile warps Caleb’s lips.

“I’ll always visit,” he assures. “And don’t worry, sis… Once I get a girlfriend, you’ll definitely be the first one to know, okay?” He chuckles, a pleasant sound.

A pretty smile smooths out the remnant lines of uncertainty in your face. “Okay. And… I can visit you in Skyhaven, too?”

Delirious excitement blips across purple eyes, his grin too bright.

“Sure,” he cheerfully agrees. “Even better.”

✷✷✷

White dots his vision like a light leak seconds before you barge in.

That tight knot, the one that had been wrapping his stomach in threads of want and frustration and need, begins to unfurl at full pelt, and Caleb quivers as it happens.

Those academy girls could never quite compete with his pumping fist or the swirling thoughts in his head he gets himself off to. But he supposes they served their purposes where they could— in those moments of foolish thinking where he thought they could heal him and needed to at least make an attempt. To clear his conscious, if nothing else.

(Spoiler alert, a humored voice in his head says dryly. They didn’t. And of course they didn’t. They were never his precious little Meimei. That’s no one’s fault but his own for believing he could get ‘better.’

No. ‘Better’ is you. It always has been.)

He’s learned from all that, though. Played all those games- and people- ‘til they tuckered him out.

Relief bowls through him. That’s just what he needs, isn’t it? A little help. He’s never considered these short-lived sessions of fucking his fist a way to summon pleasure, no- although that is very much present when he does- but rather as a kind of damage control.

He’s too pent up and needy. He needs to take the edge off, somehow, lest some of that frustration teems over when he’s talking to you and he messes up. Messes up in a way he can’t fix.

After all, he’s entitled to his own self-soothing mechanisms, isn’t he?

Or… what, is he just meant to deny himself of that, too?

Caleb bites down on a deep moan and shakes.

Pleasure courses through his veins and builds to a high peak, certainly not one he can hope to climb down from in the short time it takes you to run down the hall and into his bedroom.

“Caleb, guess what—“

And, you know, it’s already embarrassing as is, being interrupted in a personal moment and caught in such a compromising position, but what makes it worser is when it’s your own little sister who walks in to find you with your cock in your hand.

What makes it… mortifying?

When she hears you saying her name during it.

When she gasps, her eyes losing their initial glitter as they flit down, his cock gives a shameless throb and Caleb can’t decipher if the lurch in his belly is from disgust or newfound arousal.

Either way, he realizes his nakedness and scrambles to fold the sheets over it.

(Bit too late for that though, huh?)

With labored breaths, he makes a sound akin to a whimper, voice thin and pained, and lets his jaw hang dumbly.

You seem to cotton on to reality once more, because you finally take a step back- a shaky, belated one- and begin to retreat into the sunlit hallway.

Evening casts a cherry-orange glow on the white walls that flickers when you backstep into one of the beams filtering from the window. It makes you look fiery and almost hellish. But he’s a sinner. A sinner by nature and so you’re inviting.

(And he came to terms with his sin nature long ago. Sometimes it just feels like he’s waiting on you.)

His love— so deep and fervent, spread in the pit of his being like apple seeds, tearing him apart from the core— brings endless guilt, maybe, but not regret. No, nothing is regrettable about you. And he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry, Meimei, that he’s a monstrous liar and he desperately wishes it wasn’t like this, that you could see him separate from a brother, but—

He can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And there’s a certain instant… where he’s had to pause and really look at himself and ask if he truly wants to.

What he feels for you is suffocating. Like an eldritch river beast snatching his ankle and dragging him down hopeless, louring depths. But he pictures your face in perfect peace and wears your locket close to his heart. He loves you endlessly. Would do it all for you.

Just… Maybe pretending he doesn’t feel what he feels for you isn’t apart of that equation.

He senses your departure with a stab of inexplicable panic. “Meimei,” he quickly stammers, reaching out with his free hand.

His other hand, the one with wet, dripping knuckles, sticky with his own seed, darts to hide behind him, placing a proverbial cloth over his sin.

He has half the brain that already wants to mitigate this situation as it plays out in front of him in real-time, and he’s all but praying a ‘clean-up’ of sorts is viable here...

The scale doesn’t quite seem to be tipping in his favor though and honest to God, he’s not surprised. He deserves it if anything, for being such a selfish, awful big brother. Oh, doesn’t he know.

You look horrified, and you are. It feels as if you’ve been splashed with cold water. Your chest warms like a hearth and tightens, but your limbs frost over. Icy-hot shock keeps you moored in the threshold of his bedroom door with wide, fluttering eyes.

“Wait, don’t go, i-it’s not—“

A feeble lie. Wholly unconvincing.

You’re naive to a fault, that’s been true since you were kids, and too kindhearted for your own good, but this is not a matter wherein you can feign ignorance... It’s not one where you’re running into his arms, either.

No, you look… afraid as you back away from him. Like his arms come dead last on the list of places you want to be.

Paired with the mute horror is abashment. A vivid pink glazes your cheekbones and Caleb, guiltily, thinks you look very pretty (albeit, he can’t remember there ever being a time where he didn’t think that).

You recollect just enough of your composure to pick up your jelly legs and maneuver them out.

The door clicks shut and the sound is too soft to warrant the tempest gusting through his chest. His heart thrums at racehorse speeds.

He said your name, Meimei (or more accurately, moaned it), and you heard it. He came, and you saw that, too- fountaining over the backs of his fingers like white water rapids. You… saw it all. Saw him.

A niggling feeling stirs inside him. Filthy and blinding but brief. It passes like a car in the night, there and then gone.

A voice purrs to life in the back of his head, one of greed and frustration. One of miserable longing. He listens to it for a moment, and it brings him catharsis.

The loneliness constantly enveloping him like fog at a mountain’s foot seems to thin out, but just a little... It allows some wiggle room for a warped sense of accomplishment to settle.

Because you saw him.

(And isn’t that all he ever wanted?)

Slowly, Caleb licks his dry lips and hazily notes the twitch of his cock against his wet abdomen. It’s flushed an angry red as it crawls back to life, but Caleb tucks it under the waistband of his boxers and contemplates his next move.

You’ll be in disarray, in shock, in a boiling pot of disgust and the likely, self-sabotaging questions of, is this somehow my fault? Maybe he’ll even capitalize off them— screwed-up, pathetic gege he is.

But you saw him and there’s just no denying it and now there’s no hiding place for him either. Not anymore.

This truth… you can both navigate it together.

There’s a pulsating mix of terror, guilt, and scorching excitement that takes the breath from his lungs as he lies back down. Relief moves in a thin undercurrent in his blood, reassuring him that it’ll be okay. Somehow, it will.

Little devils perch on either of Caleb’s shoulders. He feels a very odd sense of calm wash over him. You saw it. So…

Do you accept it?

He thinks you might just have to. For your gege’s sake, if nothing else. Because Meimei, this has been killing him for far too long.

Relieve him, why don’t you?

✷✷✷

His vacation of sorts is coming to a close.

Caleb blinks, and a few days scurry underfoot like mice— too quick to stop or comprehend. He steps on the tail ends of them, but they escape anyway.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Stowing yourself away in your bedroom and locking the door just in case he tries to come in; you don’t exactly expect him to come barging in like you did, especially not after what you’d seen, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You’re not afraid of your gege, you’re not. You never have been. But these past few days have felt nothing short of hellish.

You tell Gran you’re not feeling well when she asks why you’ve been skipping family dinners. She leaves a water bottle by the door with a tiny orange pill on top and believes you.

Sure, you told your tall tale or two growing up, and Caleb always had your back when you needed to cover up a small wrongdoing, but this is… different. To pretend that nothing is happening right now- or that it’s all fine- would be more than just a white lie.

Something is wrong with your Gege. Terribly.

You… don’t know what to do.

You love him. And you hate him, hate him in a way you never could when he used to steal your snacks as a child or conveniently forget to unlock the attic hatch.

These battling feelings only serve to complicate the situation further; your stomach is a war-ground of guilt, sorrow, and a disgust that viciously razes your wellbeing to the dirt.

How could you do this, Caleb? You think to yourself, curled up on your side, nuzzling into a heap of pillows. You’re under the illusion that this was an overnight thing. That he up and decided just a couple days ago to do the unthinkable- the reprehensible- and vocalize your name in the act. You don’t why he did it. What he was thinking. But whatever the reason could be, perhaps you don’t want to know.

Your own Gege….

Anger beats in your chest. Fear, too- making your belly toss with sickness. Now the future is more blurry than ever, and the one person you always leaned on for counsel has all but spat in your face. That’s what it feels like, at least. Like betrayal.

Hours drag by and you fall victim to endless swarms of butterflies, but not the good kind. The anxious kind. They fly in droves and absolutely piece you apart.

Guilt lances at your heart as you curse him in your head, and you hate that despite it all, you still feel the undercurrents of love for him.

For the entirety of your childhood, he was your shield. Your best friend, your protector, and the one person in the whole entire world you could always count on- perhaps more than Gran- to be there for you. Your teasing but well-meaning older brother. Now, you realize just how strong that sentiment is, because it stubbornly remains. Even now as you clench your teeth and hold back tears.

It’s buried under layers of hurt, though. A feeling of betrayal that pierces bone-deep and spreads all over.

He’s sick. Depraved. A voice in a dark cranny of your brain whispers, bitter and scared. But these new, scathing adjectives you assign your gege are just as surprising as they are uncertain, because no matter how many times you mentally call him a sick monster, your heart sings a weak song against it.

No. No, he’s not a monster. He’s your Gege.

Maybe you can fix this, somehow.

Maybe… Maybe it was a misunderstanding after all! Some rotten delusion you experienced fueled by the summer heat and the humid haze of late June. Even if it wasn’t- maybe you’d just be content to pretend it was. You’ll seal your little pinky with his and he’ll make a vow to never bring it up again; you’ll accept a lie, even, if he says it never happened to begin with.

You’ll do it. You’ll pretend. The two of you will go back to normal and he’ll leave for Skyhaven and you’ll eventually send in your final admission to the Hunter’s Association. You’ll be accepted in and you’ll forget him. Forget him until he pays his one or two occasional visits during the holidays. By that time, though, you’ll already have gotten your new place and it’ll serve as an excuse to never have to fucking see him again—

You don’t want to see him again.

A little sob escapes you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Nausea churns in your gut like milkfat in a butterbell. You shut your eyes desperately to bat away a flurry of intrusive, bitter thoughts, but it hardly works.

How could he do this to the both of you—?

Could you confide in Gran about this? If you told her, would she find help for Caleb or spank him like old times-? or would she start looking at you with cold, repulsed eyes as if it was your fault?

Is… Is it your fault?

A sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

For how gentle they are, you really shouldn’t flinch so hard.

Your breath hitches. Your fingers curl around your blankets and tighten.

“Y/n,” the voice on the other side of the door is honeyed and low. You note the sadness in it and immediately wish you didn’t as a throbbing sweeps through your chest. “It’s…. It’s me. It’s Caleb,” he sighs out. “W-Will you… let me in?”

Your response is quick. “No,” you say dully, feigning meanness. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s hurting?” He seamlessly chirps in a light voice, concerned. You’re just thankful he hasn’t tried for the knob yet, despite knowing you’d locked it anyway. “You still have your meds out here… I guess Gran left them for you, huh? Do you want me to bring them to you—“

“Just- go away, Caleb,” you manage to say his name, but it’s in a gritted, forced breath. Something in your heart does a 180 degree twist as the title leaves your mouth. A salty tear rolls in and wets your tongue.

You take a shaky breath in and try to mask your sorrow. That’s near impossible.

“L-Leave me alone.”

A pause.

For a second, you’re almost dumb enough to believe he’s turned around and left.

A palm, large and worried, presses to your bedroom door. “Are you crying? Meimei- let me in, please,” comes his fretting voice. “I need to see you.”

Meimei. The title, once wrapped with affection and warmth, sends a cold chill down your spine. You ought to open that door just to give him a black eye and a wake-up slap to reality. He needs that— and desperately.

A wave of anger, frothy and hot, rides over that feeling of disgust- but just for a moment.

You sit up in bed and sneer at the locked door, “I need you to leave. Go, Caleb! I don’t wanna see you anymore, don’t you get it?!”

It’s a strange thing, how you’re currently blind to his expression but you can clearly imagine it regardless: anguish bunching his brow as his whole face falls. You’ve seen that face before, and now you’re seeing it in your head. It’s paired with a very real, pained sound he makes.

You hate the guilt that hits you, barreling through you at the sound of his strained voice. Growing up, there was always a reason why he called you a cry baby, why Gran told you to guard your heart. Because it’s fucking weak. Prone to your gege.

He leans his full weight against the door. Fists planted there as he hangs his head.

“Don’t say that!” he forces out. “You don’t mean it. Let me come in. I’ll explain to you what happened— a-anything you wanna know. Just…” He pauses for a moment, exasperated.

“I only have three days left to see you. Don’t leave me like this.”

Three days…

You force your eyelids shut. Your nostrils flare.

“Please,” he says, and drives the final nail in the coffin home. Your, coffin.

You’re about to get up from your bed, plastering on a cool face as you prepare to untwist your limbs from your blankets. You drag one leg up from your sheets before a mental image- one you never want to acknowledge as real- stops you in place.

(Meimei, he moans. Meimei meimei meimei, nmmph—)

You stoop your head and cry harder.

“Dammit, sis,” his voice warbles opposite the door. “Let me in, you’re not okay- don’t cry, don’t cry,” he hushes, but you cut off his tender, admittedly effective tries at consolation with a sharp shout.

“Tell me,” you grit. “Tell me you didn’t mean it! That all of it was just some- some- I don’t know! Just tell me it won’t happen again,” you whimper, “That it never did.”

“Please, Gege.”

His reply comes quick. After a loud, shuddering breath that rattles the last of your wellbeing and oozes confidence.

“No,” he says lowly, assured. “It did. It did happen, sis. It’s been happening. You just… didn’t know.”

Revulsion lands a punch to your gut. Direct and vomit-inducing.

“N-No—“

“I’m sorry,” he interjects sadly. A very deep convinction bleeds into his words a second later, though, strengthening them. “I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t regret the way I feel. I love you, Y/n. I love you more than you could ever know. So… let me in. C’mon- Let your Gege see you just one more time, or will you send me back to Skyhaven without so much as a goodbye?”

Furious, you shout for as loud as your frightened throat will allow.

“NO! Leave, Caleb! I don’t wanna see—“

The door makes a sound. It echoes around the four walls of your cozy bedroom and you watch in mute horror as the knob, with the tiny slat lock and all, begins to turn.

Without using his hands, Caleb pushes the door open with his Evol.

He takes a proper moment before stepping in- almost as if preparing himself- something flashing across his face before withering away. You think it takes some piece of him with it.

But when he does take that first stride in, you get the cold, unshakable feeling that he is no longer your Gege, not anymore.

Some monster in him has been fully realized: it’s sloughed its skin- the sweet, doting face of your older brother- like a snake and embraced its scales. It can only crawl on its belly and it only crawls towards you.

(And now, all there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand—)

“It’s gonna be okay, sis. I’m right here. Gran doesn’t have to know. And if she finds out- it doesn’t matter. I’ll take you someplace else. Fly you far away, if I had to—“

“C-Caleb, stop,” as he nears your bedside, you demand your legs to move but they won’t- anchored in place like bags of sand. Tears path down your cheeks and put a chink in his armor; his brooding face faltering.

You know, just between the two of you, growing up, he was always a bit soft, too.

“It’ll be just the two of us and no one’ll lay a hand on you, I pinky promise. I’ll be a pilot within a month and get you anything you could ever dream of,” his quivering lips curl into a smile- a genuine, manic one- as he takes your smaller hand in his own and kisses the back of it.

You try to tug it away to no avail. You suppose he was right, a handful of days ago, saying his muscles weren’t just for decoration. If he wants to overpower you, he can, and that’s a terrifying thought you don’t want to believe in but it’s looking like you might have to grow out of this blind trust you always held for him. It’s looking like there’s no better time to start that than now.

Your lungs heave, “Caleb, what are you—?”

“Remember, when we were younger? you’d called me selfish once or twice,” he chuckles, a light sound. “And you were right, Meimei. I am selfish. But you should take a page from my book sometime, too. I’ll let you, ya know. Just say the word, and—“

Panic taking control of you, you regain feeling in your bones and launch a foot at him.

It’s seized, instantly. Suspended in midair— floating unnaturally without so much as a touch or grab. He’s holding it up, keeping you pinned beneath him, with his gravity manipulation skill and you realize with another sob that you cannot escape your Gege, not in heart and not in body, not ever.

His eyes trail to yours after a thick moment, indigo irises dancing with darkness, impatience, and the smallest beat of hurt. As if this pains him more than you.

What an asshole. A lying, selfish— manipulative asshole.

The sweet, kindhearted boy Gran raised to be your brother—

“Are you… tryin’ to hit me?” he laughs, lifting a deceptively flippant brow. “Hm, that’s alright. I can tell what you’re thinking, Meimei, that you don’t recognize me at all right now, right..?”

His fingers, long and slim, do close around your floating leg, then. They draw your calf to his face and he peppers a chaste kiss to it. It lingers and makes you feel sick— butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he looks up at you, lashes framing a reverent look that borders on delusional.

Mortification settles when you realize they’re not just the anxious kind, those butterflies: Your body seems to be just as traitorous as the brunette hunched over you.

“But it’s me, Caleb. Your own gege,” you wonder if it’s a scoff, the little breath he looses, or something else, but he appears almost disappointed with himself for a fraction of a second—

Gone.

“So let me take care of you. If you don’t let me now… you’ll just be delaying the inevitable. Might as well just… rip the bandaid off, right? It’ll be okay, just have a little faith in me. I- I can’t keep pretending anymore. But it doesn’t have to end with you crying,” he reasons with furrowed brows, hands descending to pin yours to the bed and entwine your fingers with his. He hovers over you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, sighing with deep content. It’s a mockery of a lovers’ embrace.

But to Caleb, it’s the real thing.

“I want us to be happy. Just let go, Meimei. Let go and let me take care of you. I… always have, haven’t I?” He murmurs, lips planting a kiss- the first of many- to the thumping column of your throat.

There’s a note in the kitchen with an envelope. Gran’s gone away on a girl’s trip for the weekend. She’s left a list of emergency numbers and cash for groceries and gas. I leave both the note and the envelope as they are, so that Caleb will see them when he gets home. As the oldest and the man of the house, he’d always taken it upon himself to take care of me. He’d know what to do with the money and info more than I would. 

The thought of him now makes the sleepy warmth in my body burn hotter. He’d texted me while I was napping that he’d gone out with his friends for an impromptu game of basketball, and that he might go out with them to the bar afterwards. He’d even sent me a photo of him in the gym locker room, eyes bright and smile wide, before he headed out to the court. 

I wonder what my brother would do if he knew how that photo made me feel. How it made me react. The want, the need, was immediate. He sent me photos of him when he was gone all of the time. When I asked him about it in the past, he said that it’s his way of including me, of making it feel like I’m there with him, even when he can’t bring me. His reasoning is so sickeningly sweet that it turns my insides to goo, even though the pictures make my heart race for another reason entirely. 

I’m weak. I open up my phone to look at the photo again, and have to restrain the sigh that beckons to escape my throat. His hair is mussed just so, his thick, muscular arms are on full display in the white tank top he wears, and the silver glint of the necklace I gave him sits just between his full pecs. He’s so solid, so big, so powerful. Just the sight of him makes me want to burrow myself into his arms until I can fuse myself into him, into one being, so that we never have to be apart again. The ache for him is almost unbearable. 

I breathe deep and set my phone down. His location under his contact name shows he’s still out, so I have time to collect myself before he comes back home. I close my eyes and will the frantic beating of my heart to slow. 

The summer air drifts in through the open patio door, and the last glimmers of golden hour stretch out across the room, casting everything in warm sunlight. It was warm, too warm, despite the AC blasting throughout the house. I grab a sparkling water from the fridge and pop it open, chugging down a few swigs of it to relieve some of the heat. The burn in my throat feels good, and I wipe the condensation beading along the sides of the can across the skin of my neck and collarbone. 

Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Maybe that will help cool me down and distract me from my thoughts. Maybe the burn of the exercise will do me some good. With that in mind, I return to my room and change. My hands drift across the various suits in the drawer as I try to think about which one I want to wear. I see something red at the bottom, and my hands twitch, before digging it out. 

I’ve only worn it once.

The scraps of red that made up the bikini were scandalous. The triangle tops were tiny, barely covering even covering my areolae. The bottoms were a high-cut thong that left nothing to the imagination. Tara had drooled when I bought it, insisting that I had to wear it to the pool party. I wanted something that would give me attention, and this was certainly it. I threw on one of Caleb’s old shirts as a coverup overtop and left with Tara.

When we arrived together at the party, the house was packed. The music was loud, and the bass vibrated the walls. Every hallway and room was densely filled with people, to the point where we had to hold hands to not lose each other. We navigated our way to the kitchen first, eyeing the island filled with booze as we tried to figure out what we wanted to drink first. The shots of vodka we split back at my place swam languidly in my system already, warming me from the inside out. We grabbed our cocktails from one of the guys playing bartender, and headed to the backyard. 

The house and pool were large. It was raised on the side of a hill, overlooking the valley below. It was breathtaking. The music was louder out here, as was the laughter and conversation all around us. Tara dragged me over to the grass in front of the DJ that had been turned into a makeshift dance floor, and pulled me into her. We drank our cocktails and danced, uncaring of the strangers eyes feasting on us, and created our own little bubble of fun. 

Two guys appeared next to us and chatted with us while we danced. They offered to grab us more drinks, and Tara and I continued to twist and grind on one another. The heat of the day, the alcohol, and the dancing was enough to make me sweat like crazy, and I eyed the pool with longing. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” I asked her. 

She eyed the pool with me and enthusiastically nodded her head. We walked over to some chairs that were unoccupied on the fringes of the yard and put our stuff down. Right as I was about to strip, Tara’s voice was a cold sobering crash of thunder over me.

“Oh shit, is that Caleb? You didn’t tell me he was going to be here too.” 

I whip my head around and anxiety grips my throat as I scan the sea of partygoers with fresh eyes. It takes me seconds to find him, and my heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him earlier. 

He lounges with his friends in a group around a fire, all passing around a joint. He’s shirtless, and the sculpted form of his muscles are on full display for every girl at the party to see. He’s relaxed, his legs splayed wide, and his broad shoulders spread across the back of his chair. He’s a picture perfect image of at-ease masculinity. The sight of him makes my blood race, and heat throbs through my core in an instant. 

The heat is doused almost immediately as a beautiful girl in a bright blue bikini walks up to him with a beer, and strokes flirtatiously along his shoulder. I expect him to push her away the way that he always does with women when he’s around me, but instead he smiles up at her, and takes the beer. 

Jealousy storms inside of me, a thick, ugly, turbulent thing that decimates every feeling of warmth and contentment in its path. Sickness roils in my stomach, and I want to drown myself in the pool. I know I have no right to react this way. It’s so wrong. But I can’t help it. I want to burn the girl alive with the force of my glare. I want to make him burn too, since he can’t burn with me. 

“Well, looks like he’s preoccupied. No wonder he hasn’t noticed you’re here yet. I think that’s Madison Bailey, she’s in the Deespace Pilot Program too. She’s really good.” Tara continues, oblivious to the storm raging inside of me. 

Madison. Caleb’s never mentioned her before. Despite all of the people he’s told me about in his program, she’s never come up before. He would tell me if he was seeing someone, right? He wouldn’t hide it from me, would he? Doubt festers inside of me like a poison, corroding every organ and cell inside of my body. 

I watch, helpless to look away, as the two of them talk. She leans in close to him where he sits, and places a hand on the back of his chair. He laughs at something that she says, and shifts slightly in his seat. 

I hate him. I hate her. I hate them both. 

“Do you wanna go say hi?” Tara asks. Her face falls a bit as she looks over at me, and I force myself to smile. It feels unnatural, like it pulls at my skin like a mask, but I maintain it as best as I can. 

“Nah, let’s leave him be. Wanna go swim now?” I ask. 

Tara nods, and the suspicion in her eyes clears away. As I pull at the hem of Caleb’s shirt I can’t help but feel ridiculous. My eyes drift towards them again, and the ugly jealousy inside of me compares us. We’re nothing alike. She’s tall and lean, with full breasts, and long blonde hair that shines with health. My own body is curvier, with wider hips and fuller thighs. While it’s given me a great ass, my own tits look like road bumps in comparison to hers. 

Is that what he likes? Does he prefer a woman with larger breasts? Does he prefer someone with a more model-like build to my own curvy one? Does he like the lightness of her hair? Insecurity eats away at me, and even though I’d felt confident in my bikini before, I’m now almost afraid to reveal it. What would I do if he saw me, so exposed, so on display for him, and he didn’t like it? How could I live with myself after that?

But no, I needed to stop. Caleb clearly wasn’t thinking about me right now, so I needed to stop thinking of him. Who cares what he thinks of me in my bikini? I’m just his little sister, right?

I tug his shirt off over my head, and let it fall in a pile on the table. I can feel the eyes of the men around me appraising my body, and it builds up my confidence somewhat. I resolutely refuse to look at Caleb as I saunter over to the other side of the pool, directly across from him, and take a deep breath, before diving in. 

The water crashes over me, soothing the fever from my skin, and washing away my doubts. I revel in the cool weightlessness for a moment before breaking the surface for air. I hear the splash behind me as Tara jumps in, and turn around, waiting for her to join me. I tread water, purposefully turning my back to where Caleb and his friends sit. I can’t obsess over him if I can’t see him. At least, that’s what I tell myself. 

We swim for a while. The two guys from earlier join us with more drinks in the pool, and we chat and lounge around with them. Tara is more interested in entertaining them than I am. Twilight dances over the horizon, and I sip at my drink, letting the buzz flow like liquid ambrosia through my body. I drift alone to the edge of the pool, taking in the view. 

Two arms come around me, caging me in to the side of the pool. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s Caleb. If he’s finally come in after me. But when I turn my head to look at who is behind me, I see the face of the guy from earlier. He tries to flirt with me some more, but I make up an excuse to need to use the restroom, and escape from his arms. 

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s handsome, tall, friendly, and seems respectful once I set up the boundary. 

But he’s not him. He’s not Caleb. 

I make my way to the other side of the pool and grab ahold of the ladder to pull myself out. 

It’s only when I’m halfway out that I realize where I am. As I lift myself out of the water, Caleb is right there sitting in front of me. 

He’s noticed me now. 

And he looks furious. 

Before I’m on stable ground, he’s out of his chair and stalking towards me. Fear grips ahold of me, and I’m irrationally struck with the need to run. I pivot, uncaring of the fact that I’m dripping wet, and make my way into the house. I dodge through the crowd, hoping that he’ll lose sight of me as I all but run away from him. I turn down various hallways, until the crowd starts to thin. The third hallway I fly down is empty, and that’s when I feel the iron grip tighten around my wrist. 

In moments, I’m spun around and pinned to the wall. Caleb’s body towers over me, with his other hand clenched in a tight fist against the wall near my head. His violet eyes are dark with anger, and his cheeks and ears burn red. His powerful body is tight with tension, and my body burns with desire and fear equally. The heat of him is so sudden and so intense that it makes my heart race. He’s so scary when he wants to be. 

The glare he sears me with sends my pulse skyrocketing, and my core throbs with an everlasting, aching need. His violet eyes run down the length of my body, and I can’t breathe as they skim down my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs. His gaze is like a physical touch, and I yearn to lean into it, to feel it for real. 

I need to diffuse the tension before it boils me alive. “Hi Caleb. I didn’t know you would be here,” I begin breathlessly. 

“I thought you said you were seeing Tara,” he accuses, “Funny. I didn’t know this was her house.” 

He damn well knows it’s not. I hated when he played the overprotective parental card. I didn’t lie to him, I knew I would be seeing Tara, I just omitted that I would be seeing her at a pool party. I knew he would be annoying about it. 

But it’s not like he’s innocent either. 

“And you said you were hanging out with the guys,” I spit back, “so which ‘guys’ are you seeing today, the one in the blue bikini?” 

His eye twitches, and a dark shadow passes over him. Our lies simmer in the tension that thickens the air between us. A smirk tugs at his lips and he leans down until our faces are only inches apart. 

“Watching me closely, were you?” He asks softly. His voice is deceptive, as smooth as honey over the bitterness of his mockery. 

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as he calls me out. His smirk deepens, before he leans in closer, his mouth just barely grazing against the skin of my cheek, before resting just beside my ear. My entire body vibrates with the need to lean into him, to touch, to feel every solid inch of him pressed tight into every dripping inch of me. I bite my lip, and the pain clears my head as I stand my ground. 

“It’s okay, pip-squeak. I was watching you too. I was watching as every man in the party watched you prance around oblivious and drunk and naked.” 

My brows furrow in confusion, even as I shiver at the depth of his voice.“I’m not naked!”

His grip on my wrist tightens to the point of pain, and he leans back until our faces are inches apart. His violet eyes sweep a path from my face down the length of my body, before glaring back at me. “Then tell me, pip-squeak, what the fuck are you wearing?”

I spare a glance down at myself, and see the sodden red scraps of fabric that make up my swimsuit. My nipples are dangerously close to being exposed, and the hard peaks strain at the thin fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Water drips down between my breasts. The sight is undeniably erotic. When I glance back at him, his eyes are narrowed to furious slits. I’ve never seen him this tense or this angry before.

“A bikini?” I answer him breathlessly. 

His scoff is cold and incredulous. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Where did you get it from, huh, an adult shop?” 

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, even as my core throbs under his furious scrutiny. 

“I got it online, you dick,” I spit back, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh it is absolutely my business,” he says, leaning down until his mouth is right at my ear again. I can feel the heat of his breath, and I shiver as goosebumps prickle my skin. “It is always my business when my little sister is running around looking like she’s ripe to be fucked,” he continues with a sneer. 

The air between us is thin. The heat of him so close to me, but not touching any part of me other than my wrist, is unbearable. The ends of his hair tickle the heat of my cheek, and I want to lean into him like a cat. Even as his overprotectiveness drives me crazy, even as his words light an anger up inside of me, because he has no right to talk to me that way, my body yearns for him. 

“Stop it, Caleb. Now let me go, I wanna go back to the party.” I say, pushing at the firm muscles of his chest. 

But he’s an immovable object in my path, snarling his fury down upon me. His skin is molten, and his chest heaves as he breathes heavily under my touch. 

“Oh no, the only place you’re going is home.” He says with finality, “Where’s your stuff? I’ll get it for you.”

My heart drops. “What the fuck, Caleb? No, I’m not going home yet. You can’t make me.” 

He whirls around and pins me with a glare that could melt steel. “Oh I very much can and will make you. Do not test me right now, pip-squeak. Now answer me. Where. Is. Your. Stuff?” 

Our glare is a stalemate, before I finally sigh. There’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. I mumble where I put my stuff next to Tara’s and he turns to leave. 

“Can I at least say goodbye to Tara?” I ask him, my voice small and defeated. 

He turns his head over his shoulder, and with a flick of his wrist, gravity seems to push down harder around me, warping through the air until I’m pinned to the wall again. 

“You’re not going anywhere until I get back. You will not look at or even speak to anyone else but me. If you so much as move even an inch, I’ll make you regret it,” he promises.

As he walks away, he lifts his evol, but his threat restrains me all the same. The buzz from earlier is all but evaporated, and emotions overwhelm me now that he’s gone. The heat and the shame and the anger are all a frenzy inside of me. He didn’t deny that he was talking to the girl earlier. Did that mean that she was someone special to him? The thought stabs shards of ice into my heart, and tears sting my eyes. I sniffle and try to hold them back. He’ll be so annoying about it if he sees me cry. 

It seems like not even a full minute has gone by before he’s back in front of me. His violet eyes sweep down the length of my body again as he stalks towards me, and my core throbs pitifully, despite the betrayal in my heart. He holds the shirt out for me, but I glare up at him in stubborn refusal. 

“Oh, you wanna play dress up? Okay, fine.” He smirks in the face of my defiance. 

He uses his evol to yank my hands up above my head. He slides the shirt over me until it settles completely over me. He doesn’t bother to hide his satisfaction once I’m covered up, and he smirks as he looks at the shirt. His hand plays with the hem, his fingertips skating against the skin of my upper thigh. His hand is so close to where I need him most, so close to uncovering just how ruined I am for him. 

He leans in close to me again, as though magnetized to my body in the same way that I am to his. His other hand comes to rest on the small of my back, fisting the fabric of his shirt lightly in his large grasp. 

“Pip-squeak, is this my shirt?” He asks in a low, teasing voice full of dark promise. 

 I shiver at his tone, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it with his hold over me. His eyes flicker across my face, taking in every minute expression, obsessively calculating and watching me. I all but blossom under his attention. The heat between us is unbearable and my eyes flutter as his thumb traces an idle pattern right along the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. 

I’m lost in his eyes, in his touch, in his heat. My brain is scrambled and focused only on the scant distance between us. If only he would lean in. If only he would ease some of the desperation that I’ve always felt for him. 

He’s merciless though. He sees how lost I am in the fog, and he leans in. His breath lands on my lips, and my spine arches beneath his hand. He gasps, and I feel his exhale wash over me. His scent, warm and rich and achingly familiar, saturates my nose, and I want to inhale him forever. I want to bury my head in his neck and lick and bite and mark him as mine. 

The pressure of his hands on my thigh robs me of all thought, and they tremble as his grip abandons my shirt entirely, to span across the back of my thigh. His hand is so large and so hot that it spans across the entire side and back of it. I’m engulfed by him. I want him to pull it up and fit himself between my thighs where he belongs.

“Caleb,” I sigh, unable to help myself. 

He groans and his chest heaves as he struggles to breathe deep. His fingers twitch against my thigh, and his hand on my back grips the fabric of the shirt tighter. “I asked you a question, pip-squeak,” he mutters low, a breath away from my lips, “did you wear my shirt here?” 

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips. 

His answering groan is a broken, needy sound that I’ll play on repeat in my mind for the rest of my life. His grip hardens until it’s all but bruising, and his chest heaves with his uneven breaths. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

It’s my turn to sigh, as his praises washes over me like an electric current. Every nerve in my body tingles with pleasure and warmth and yearns for more, for everything he can give me. I melt in his arms. 

The heat and hunger inside of me is mirrored in his violet eyes, and for just a moment there is no doubt, there is no fear, there is only the instinctual primal knowledge that he feels exactly the way that I do. 

But he pulls away. 

In a blink of an eye, that look is gone, and the warmth there is instead as familiar to me as the sound of my own name. The tension dissipates like smoke in the wind, and I return to my own body feeling empty and hollow. 

Of course I’m wrong. He’ll never understand how I feel. He’ll never feel the same way about me. After all, I’m just his little sister. 

“Come on, pip-squeak, let’s get you home.”

The memory plays on repeat in my head as I slide on the bikini and make my way down to the pool. It’s technically the second one, as the original mysteriously went missing from my closet days after the party. I purchased it again out of spite, knowing that Caleb had something to do with it, but I never had the guts to wear it again. 

The pool is heated, but it still is cool enough to chill my overheated skin. My head is lost in the heat of the memory, and if I close my eyes I can hear the sounds of the party going on all around me. I can feel the way Caleb crowded into me afterwards, how his eyes looked so angry and so hungry at the same time. It wasn’t the first moment we’ve shared like that, but it always leaves me confused and wanting. It will be an eternal mystery without an answer to understand what’s going on in his mind when he acts like that. 

I swim laps in the pool, pushing myself to at least get a good workout in, if my mind is determined to fixate on him. I imagine how he must look with his friends right now at the court. Is his hair clumped and dripping with sweat? Is he still wearing his tank, the white material clinging to his broad shoulders and made transparent with the slickness of his body? Or did he abandon it entirely, showing off his physique and my necklace for the world to see. 

I can imagine how his muscles twist and bunch as he moves around the court. If I were there watching, I know he would turn to look at me and wink before shooting. When the ball would inevitably sink in the basket he would mouth to me that his win was for me. 

My arousal is unbearable at this point. Dusk falls over the pool, and I pause, gasping for breath, as I will my body to calm down. I know the slick between my thighs is wet from more than just the pool, but I can’t bear to do anything about it just yet. I don’t know when Caleb will be home, and I can’t imagine what he would do if he found me fucking myself in the pool. The thought makes my cheeks burn and my nipples tingle. 

After a deep sigh, I groan as I pull myself out of the pool. My muscles burn from the exertion, and my legs feel like jelly. I wrap myself in the towel and give myself a few minutes to collect my breath. By the time I enter the house, the sky is a darkened blanket of stars, and the illumination of the kitchen stretches across the grass. 

As I make my way to my room, there’s a sound that makes me freeze. I pause mid-step, and my breath rushes out of my lungs at once. 

It was a moan. A high-pitched one. My ears strain as I will my heart to stop its quick beating so I can hear it again. Did I hallucinate it? Did I will my deepest fears into coming true? Again, a moan echoes throughout the house, this time longer and whinier. It’s followed by a masculine reprimand. I can’t hear what he says, but his tone is angry. I’m so startled that I drop the towel on the stairs.

Caleb’s home. And he’s not alone. 

The hurt that stabs into my heart is overwhelming. It’s like I can feel as it disintegrates piece by piece, the cracks fissuring out into nothing until it resembles a husk of something that can never be repaired. I feel adrift in my own body. Unmoored. My feet walk me in a trance towards the door to his room, and I don’t know if it’s better or worse that it’s left partially open. 

I can’t even pretend I don’t feel a wave of self-loathing as I peer through the opening in the door to look inside. 

Caleb is on the bed, some woman collapsed and all but prone underneath him. His naked back is rigid with tension, and his hips furiously pound into her. I can see his profile, see his thick, long cock as it batters into the girl’s cunt. She whines again, her pleasure obvious as she fists tightly into the sheets below. 

Caleb’s face twists in fury. And his hand comes down hard on her ass. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb growls. His voice is dark, monstrous, and if it weren’t for the fact that I saw the words coming from his mouth, I wouldn’t have believed it was him at all, “I don’t want to fucking hear you,” he snarls, “make one more fucking noise and I’ll gag you. Nod if you understand.” 

I hear a needy, breathless whine, and she nods her head. Caleb hisses before the vicious smacking of skin on skin fills the air as he fucks her again. 

I can’t breathe. I shouldn’t be watching this. But my feet are frozen to the spot. The drops of pool water dripping down my skin no longer leave me chilled, but the subtle sensation sets me on fire. 

I know the feelings I harbor for him are wrong. But in all of the ways I’ve imagined him fucking before, I didn’t know he could be this cold, this dominant. I always imagined him as a passionate lover, as someone who gave and gave and gave until the point where he was so wound up he had to take. I imagined he would whisper sweet words and praise in my ear while filling me up slowly, tenderly, forcing me to feel every slow inch of his cock. 

But I was wrong. Caleb’s hands grip hard on the girl’s hips, and his pounding thrusts are brutal. They rock the bed with their ferocity, and I can see his skin glisten with sweat from his exertion. The girl tries to turn her head around to look at him, and he fists her hair and pushes her face back down into the comforter. 

“I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to see your face. I just want to see your ass.” He pants. 

He’s so cold, so detached, it leaves me breathless. But the sight of him being so dominant, of him being so ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure, makes my cunt flutter, aching and empty around nothing. 

I never imagined him to be so rough, and now I can’t imagine him any other way. I imagine it’s me instead of her that he’s fucking so ruthlessly. I imagine the battering of his thick cock, long and hard enough to hit my cervix over and over again, uncaring of how much pain or pleasure I feel as long as he gets to fill me again and again. 

“S-slow d-down. It-it’s too—” the girl moans through broken breaths. 

“No,” he growls, and if anything, fucks her even harder. 

The girl wails, and his hand comes down hard on her ass again. It leaves a bright red imprint that stands out against her pale skin. 

“Please!” She whines. 

Caleb growls in frustration and grabs the girl by the throat. He pauses his fucking, while deep inside of her, but his body is anything but relaxed. 

“If you want me to stop, then say your safe word,” he demands, “otherwise I don’t wanna hear you speak again. Do I make myself clear?” 

The girl’s face is wet with sweat and tears, but she keeps her mouth shut. Caleb once again pins her down by the throat and begins to roughly fuck her in earnest. This time, when he throws her down, he’s angled more towards me. I can do nothing more than watch, transfixed, as his abs flex and roll as his hips smoothly thrust back and forth. His head falls back, and his neck is stretched, slick with sweat, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he groans with pleasure. 

Despite the betrayal in my heart, I’ve never been more aroused in my life. My thighs are all but soaked from the arousal that trickles down from my weeping cunt. In a daze, my hand trails down my stomach and grazes gently along the outside of my folds through the fabric. The slight touch is enough to make me gasp and my eyes flutter. But just as quickly as they close, I open them again to keep watching Caleb. 

I pull the bikini bottoms to the side, and swipe a finger through the slick heat of my cunt. It’s obscene, the amount of moisture that coats my hand immediately. It drools out of me, with stray drops puddling on the floor. I insert two fingers almost immediately and try to match the pace of his thrusts. It’s intense, almost too much, and yet it’s so severely not enough. The feeling of fullness, even if it’s only partial, is bliss after aching for him for hours. I can’t help the sigh that escapes me, and my other hand grips tight on the doorframe for support. 

“Oh fuck,” Caleb groans, his pleasure mounting higher. The sound makes me flutter against my fingers, and I hold back my whine in response. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, as I fuck myself to the sound of his cock driving back and forth. When I glance back at him, his eyes are closed in pleasure, and his neck and chest are stained deep red. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moans. His hips stutter as he drives hard into her over and over again. I match his pace, and within seconds I feel like I’m on the edge with him. “Mmm, fuck just like that. Take my cock, just like that. Fuck, I’m cumming, y/n,” he groans. 

It’s the sound of my name moaned breathlessly between his lips that sets me off like dynamite. My orgasm is intense, wracking every sense in my body until I’m shaking and sputtering for breath. The puddle on the floor is large now, from the force of my need for him. My spine tingles all the way down to my toes, and a high lifts my body to the heavens. 

He moaned my name. 

He may have been fucking her, but he moaned for me. 

The knowledge chases away some of the bitterness in my chest. It prolongs the tremors that crash over me again and again. 

I watch with bleary eyes as Caleb slips out of her and peels off the condom. The girl whines, obviously not finished yet, but Caleb just glares down at her. A flash of anger and disgust wash over his face, and it sends a chill down my spine. I almost don’t recognize him.

“C’mon, Caleb, make me cum. I’m so close,” the girl gasps. 

He pulls back from her and ties the condom into a knot before throwing it in the trash by his bed. “Do it yourself,” he says coldly. 

The girl flips over and looks at him. “Don’t be like that,” she says, shocked. 

He just raises a brow at her while he catches his breath and leans back against the headboard. “Don’t be like what? You’re just a hole to fill. Now that I’ve used you, I’m done.” He states coldly. 

The girl glares at him before getting off of the bed. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never should have fucking come here. Don’t ever talk to me or call me again.” She says as she furiously finds her clothes and puts them back on. 

Caleb just rolls his eyes in the face of her anger. “I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” he just says, rubbing salt in the wound. 

The girl lets out a huff of frustration while Caleb rolls off the bed. I take in the sight of him completely unhindered, and despite being soft now, he’s still a magnificent sight to see. He reaches for the discarded boxers on the floor and slips them on easily. 

I should leave now. With my heart pounding, I all but run towards the bathroom and turn on the shower. Not even seconds later, I hear as two pairs of footsteps walk past, one angry and one lazy. I hold my breath, not even daring to breathe, until I hear the door slam shut. 

I exhale and close my eyes, before stripping my bikini off. I hop in the shower and rinse off my hands, before rubbing them over my face. I’m shaking, I realize belatedly. My skin feels like it’s stretched too thin over my muscles, and the blood that races in my veins is near a boiling point. I don’t even know where to begin to decipher how I feel. 

The sight of his orgasm with my name on his lips plays like a record in my head, and I can’t feel anything except for the heat that refuses to dissipate from my body. I’ve never felt a need like this before. It’s all-consuming, chasing away every other stray thought from my mind. 

He thought of me as he came. It was my name he called out. Did he wish she were me? Is that how he wanted to fuck me? The thought makes my legs shake and I have to brace myself against the slick tile wall of the shower. I’ve never even thought of having sex that rough before. 

To be fair, since I was still a virgin, I had no basis of comparison, but I didn’t think it was possible to be like that. Was Caleb kinky? Did he want the whips and chains? Did he want me to call him ‘sir’ and let him fuck me into submission? The thought makes my pulse pound and my core clench. Did I want that too? 

Every fantasy I had of Caleb kissing me tenderly as he made love to me seems foolishly naive in retrospect. I always knew there was a darkness inside of him, but I had no idea he would unleash it like that. Did I like it? Was I okay with it? 

My thoughts continue to spiral out of control. The only thing I know is that my desire for Caleb is a constant. No matter how he wants me, I will want him in turn. Whether that means rough and degrading or soft and tender, I’ll take any shade of him as long as it means having him to myself. 

And he called out my name. 

A sudden bang on the bathroom door makes me yelp, and I flinch beneath the spray. “Pip-squeak, hurry up,” Caleb calls from the other side, “I gotta take a leak.” 

My heart is caught in my throat and my breath stops. There’s another bathroom down the hall. I know he knows that. So why is he here bothering me? 

“Fuck off,” I shout back. 

I force myself to sound normal, to sound like I didn’t fuck myself to him railing a random girl into next Tuesday. I hear the muffled sound of a growl before he bangs again on the door. 

“I’m coming in, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he shouts. 

He barges into the bathroom, and makes a beeline for the toilet. 

“Caleb, what the fuck?” I shout at him, covering myself up despite the fact that the curtain that separates us is completely opaque. 

He groans in exaggerated pleasure and I hear the sound of his piss hitting the water. I’m so shocked, so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the last thirty minutes, that I can’t even react. What the fuck is he doing? What is he playing at? 

I hear the stream taper off, before the soft closing of the lid. At least he has the decency not to flush while I’m in the shower. 

“Pip-squeak,” comes his voice from the other side of the curtain. He sounds unrecognizable, his voice husky and deep. I’ve never heard him say my nickname like that before. It makes my pulse pound and my pussy drool, and it’s all I can do to keep myself upright against the tile. 

“Y-yeah?” I ask him belatedly. My voice is small and breathy in the bathroom. It echoes back to me and makes me cringe from how needy I sound. 

“Where did you get this?” He asks. 

My brow furrows and I struggle to think about what he could be referring to. Swallowing the tattered shreds of my dignity, I pull back the curtain just enough to peek around and see what he’s referring to. 

He’s so close. Too close. All at once I’m hyperaware of how naked and vulnerable I am in front of him. He stands there, all power and menace, naked except for his boxers, with the bottoms of my bikini dangling from his fingertips. My face flushes scarlet, as I see him holding them. 

They must be saturated with my arousal by now, and he must mistake the wetness for pool water. He stares down hard at the fabric, a tension vibrating in his muscles that I’ve never seen before. Not even moments ago when he was balls deep in some random woman. 

“What do you mean?” I ask him breathily. 

He rubs the fabric between his fingers, and makes a point of gliding his thumb through the gusset, collecting the slick on his hands. My mortification is enough to make me wince as I see him rub it back and forth on his fingers. I want to tell him what he’s doing so he can at least be informed, but speaking those words aloud makes me want to die. 

“I thought I confiscated this bikini from you,” he says coldly, before finally turning to look at me. His expression is hard and restrained. Like he’s on the brink of something terrifying and out of control. “Did you take these from me?” 

I can’t even point out the absurdity of his question with how intensely he’s glaring at me. Did that mean he kept it? I thought he just threw them out. Does he still have my original bikini now? Why?

“I bought a new one,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. 

His hand clenches tight, and his muscles twitch. He laughs to himself, but the sound is humorless and cold. 

“You always enjoyed testing me, didn’t you, pip-squeak,” he says, before glancing back at the bikini bottoms in his hand. He makes a point of gliding his hands more intentionally through the remains of my arousal before bringing up his hand between us. My slick shins on his thick fingers, and my brain short-circuits. 

He knows. 

I don’t know how he does, but it becomes immediately clear that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows that he’s feeling my arousal on his fingertips. He knows. 

“You never knew when to stop, did you?” he asks, his voice accusatory and deep. His violet eyes lock onto mine, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth. He breathes deep, filling his lungs with the scent of my musk, and his eyes flutter closed. He pauses, breathing it in for several moments, and his massive chest heaves with the force of his inhale. 

I can’t speak. I can’t think. Like the moments before, I’m frozen, unable to do anything more than watch. The arousal I tried to subdue before roars to an inferno at the sight of him reveling in the scent of my musk coating his fingers. I must have died. I must have drowned in the pool and this is all some kind of delirious fever dream one sees before their death. There’s no other rational explanation for why Caleb is doing any of this. 

“I have to wonder, is this my penance? My punishment? That you got to watch me, but I’ve never been able to watch you?”

My uneven breath is his only answer. I grip the curtain tight in my grip and can do nothing more than stand there with heat radiating between my thighs. 

“Do you want to?” I ask him. The question is out of my mouth before I can process it. It hangs in the tension of the humid air between us, thick with unspoken need and anticipation. 

Caleb freezes, and his eyes flutter open. The darkness, the hunger, the yearning in his purple eyes is a palpable touch on my soul. I tremble with the intensity in his stare, and watch as he guides his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans at the taste, and works at each digit with a lascivious diligence. His eyes remain fixed on me, giving me no mercy but to allow him the sight of watching me watch him taste me.

“Do you really want to cross that line?” He asks in a low, dark voice, “because if you do, I’ll want to do a lot more than just watch.” 

My heart flutters like a hummingbird in my chest, and I feel a wild, animalistic need overtake me. I feel like I’m watching an out of body experience as my hand tugs at the shower curtain and pulls it back, baring my body for his viewing pleasure. Caleb’s eyes dip immediately, and his chest heaves as he gasps for breath. 

He looks ruined just from looking at me. His eyes survey every inch of skin that has never been seen by him before. His gaze is covetous, molten, and scorches me from the inside out. I thought I would feel self-conscious if I were ever naked before him. I imagined he would make me feel shy and insecure. 

But all I feel now is power. The way he looks at me is like a sinner looking up at his god. His gaze is worshipful, devoted, and full of a need that echoes inside the very depths of my being. I like being naked in front of him, I realize, if he can make me feel this desired from just a look alone. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and his voice cracks. The sound is so endearing that my heart swells and surges, stitching itself over the ruptures he caused so recently. I hold my hand out to him, beckoning him to join me in the shower. 

He strips in a daze, stepping out of his boxers with his eyes unblinkingly fixed on my body. As he steps towards me, the heat between us climbs to an unbearable level. He takes my hand tenderly, the skin of his palm gliding delicately against mine, before his larger hand engulfs mine entirely. 

He reaches out for me with his other hand, but I step back. Immediately, he freezes, and a look of confusion and alarm breaks him out of his trance. 

“I don’t want you to touch me after you just fucked someone else.” I say sternly over the pelting sound of the shower. 

He swallows thickly, and his violet eyes fill with guilt and regret. “She meant nothing to me,” he says earnestly. I believe him, after seeing the way that he treated her. “If I had known that I could have had you instead, I never would have looked elsewhere. You’re the only person I’ve ever truly wanted.” 

The hand he holds he brings up to his forehead and leans into my touch. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, the weight of his guilt crushing down on his broad shoulders. He is every bit the sinner come to repent and beg for forgiveness. 

“Why did you take another woman?” I ask him, my voice trembling despite myself. 

He sighs, and the sound is choked, like he’s breathing around a lump in his throat. His grip on my hand grows tighter, and he presses it deeper into his face. 

“You have no idea how much being in the same house as you, being around you again, drives me crazy. There isn’t a single thought I have that doesn’t involve you. That doesn’t involve all of the things I want to do to you,” he confesses, nuzzling into the palm he holds captive, before pressing a kiss to the skin, “Every smile, every sigh, every touch, every breath you take, and I’m a slave to this need, this obsession. It burns inside of me. And I needed a release. An outlet. Because I couldn’t have you.”

His eyes fix on mine, and the weight of his hunger settles deep into the marrow of my bones. Obsession. That’s what he called it. I can see it in the darkness that shadows his eyes, in the need that coils tight between his muscles and tissue. It beckons to something inside of me, a mirrored desire and fixation, coaxes it to the surface at the slightest tremble of his lips. 

“But you’ve always had me,” I whisper. 

Caleb groans, and he nuzzles further into my touch, kissing my palm before sucking the skin into his mouth. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath, its the same unevenness in my own. 

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it up to you. I’ll do anything, as long as you tell me that I haven’t ruined this chance,” he begs. His other hand tentatively reaches out towards me, and when he sees that I don’t back away this time, he tenderly cradles my face in his palm. 

The air between us stretches and thins as he leans down closer to me. His lips are mere inches away, and his eyes study mine closely. The sensation of power rushes through me again, as I realize that I hold the weight of his heart firmly in my hand. I know that I can break him with a word, that I can shatter his heart as coldly and as cruelly as he shattered mine. 

I lean into his palm and stare up at him. I brace myself, prepare myself for the worst, but I have to know before any of this continues. “Tell me everything you did to her.” 

He answers immediately. “I kissed her neck, used my hands to warm her up, and then fucked her until I came.” 

“You didn’t kiss her?” 

“No.”

“Did you put your fingers inside of her?” 

“No, I just rubbed her clit.”

“Did you think of me?” 

“Yes, always.”

“I want you to do to me exactly what you did to her,” I demand, “I want to feel what she felt.”

But Caleb freezes. His eyes flicker back and forth between mine, searching for something in the depths. 

“No, I can’t,” he whispers brokenly. 

“Why not?” I ask him.

“Because I would never treat you the way I treated her. I can’t. You don’t deserve that.”

“But she did?”

“She isn’t you.”

His answer makes the breath catch in my throat. His thumb strokes idly along my cheekbone, wiping away at the stray drops that collect on my face. His expression is so full of adoration and need that it scrambles my ability to think. My heart races at its implications. 

“Then I want you to do to me what you would have, if she was me,” I say quietly. 

Caleb’s eyes close and he lets out a broken moan. His other hand drops mine and wraps around my waist, pulling my body tightly into his. The sudden feeling of his slick skin pressed tightly into me makes my brain short-circuit. His cock is rigid and twitches between the tight press of my belly. The knowledge that it’s Caleb’s cock that rests against my skin nearly sends me into a frenzy. I’m overwhelmed by him, every sense taken over by need and desire and yearning that I’ve felt since the day that I could first form memories. 

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He moans in my ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking gently. The feeling of his mouth on my skin sends me into overdrive, and I cling to his shoulders for support. My spine arches into him, pressing our bodies even tighter together, and he groans, rutting his hips into me as his cock twitches eagerly. 

Everything in me screams to give in, to finally surrender. But my hand on his shoulder pushes back, and he gently responds, unlatching his mouth from my ear to peer down at me curiously. 

“Not yet,” I say, “Not while you still smell like her. Clean yourself off first.” 

He immediately reaches for the soap behind me. He pours a liberal amount of shower gel into his hands before working it all over his body with a mechanical precision. He’s rough with himself, swiping over his body with firm, indelicate gestures. I take the bottle from him and squeeze some out into my palm. He freezes as he cleans himself, instead focused on me as I begin to rub the soap into my skin. 

In contrast to him, I take my time with myself. I run the soap along my shoulders and arms, tracing each inch of skin slowly before running my hands back up. I spread it over my breasts, rubbing it into my nipples with slight rolls and pinches, before cupping the full weight of my breasts in my hands. Caleb’s heated gaze is glassy with his lust, and his hand idly strokes down his chiseled abdomen to palm at his erection. 

The sight of his soapy fist wrapped around the thick length of his cock makes my breath stutter and my core clench. I can’t look away from the veins of his lower abdomen, and my eyes track them as they lead down the thick veins of his cock. It looks large, even in his hand, and the thought of taking it inside of me makes me feel apprehensive. 

“I like the way you’re looking at me. So brazen. You like looking at my cock, pip-squeak?” He asks with a throaty groan. 

A flush spreads down from my cheeks to my tits, and his eyes trace along the length of it with greed. He licks his lips and his smirk deepens. All I can do is nod, while my eyes fix on his hand clenching and pumping at his length. He groans, and I see his cock twitch, and my mouth floods with the thought of feeling that twitch against my tongue. 

“Keep going, baby, I want you to be nice and clean for me,” he commands. 

Somewhere along the way, somehow, the power dynamic switched, and I find myself helpless to his demand. My hands follow his instruction, continuing to spread the soap down my abdomen and to my legs. I raised my foot on the edge of the tub and work the soap into my calves, massaging the muscle as I work my way higher. Caleb groans as I part my legs, but his eyes follow my hands as they work. 

When every inch of my body is clean, I finally trail my hands towards my messy cunt. I swipe my hands through the thick slick of my arousal, and I lean back against the tile to hold myself up. Caleb bites his lip, and grips the base of his cock with an iron fist. The head of it is deep red, and shines with a mixture of water and pre-cum. 

“Let me see what you were doing to yourself earlier. Let me see how you made a mess of yourself on the floor,” he demands. 

I whine as mortification flushes my cheeks. Is that how he knew? Did he see the puddle of arousal I made? How did he know it was me? But despite my shame, I follow his command. I part my labia, exposing my hole to his gaze and slowly slide a finger inside myself. 

The stretch makes me sigh, and I push it in as deep as I can before pumping slowly. Caleb moans, his hand still gripping tight as he stares at my hand disappearing into my cunt. 

“Add another finger, baby,” he requests. 

I do as he says and add another finger, and the feeling of fullness makes me clench down hard on my fingers. 

“Mmm that’s it,” Caleb hums, “Did you fuck yourself so gently earlier?” 

I shake my head, distrusting of my voice. 

“Then show me how you fucked yourself. Show me how you made yourself cum.” 

I increase the speed of my hand, mimicking the fast, hard thrusts of his cock earlier. The pace is relentless, and my muscles tighten as I push myself rapidly towards the edge. I whine into the air, and the sound buzzes in my ears as my orgasm creeps closer and closer and closer. The weight of his eyes on me, on the heat and greed in his gaze, does more for me than my own hands, and I’m on the brink before I know it. 

“Caleb, I’m gonna cum,” I moan. 

His eyes flutter shut and he moans, before his hand pumps hard on his cock. “Cum for me, pip-squeak. I got you. Let me see you.”

It’s like my body waited for his permission before it crests over me. The orgasm seizes my muscles tight, and I throw my head back against the wall. My cries are loud and echo in the bathroom, mixing with the obscene sounds of my hands fucking into my cunt. Caleb moans, and I open my eyes in time to watch as he spills into the tub, his cock twitching furiously as he pumps himself to the point of overstimulation. I watch the creamy white of his spend swirl down the drain with a tinge of disappointment that I don’t understand. 

Our panting breaths are loud, and for a moment we both just look at each other, as if neither of us can really believe what’s happened. Caleb recovers first, and stalks forward, crowding me into the wall. He reaches behind me and turns off the water. His face hovers close to mine, and despite the waves of my orgasm receding, the hunger in his eyes sets me on fire. 

“That was the last orgasm you’ll ever have without me, pip-squeak.” He vows. 

He slams his lips into mine with all the weight of his pent up need, and I melt in his arms. His lips devour mine as he plunders mine with a passion that takes my breath away. He grabs ahold of my thighs and pulls me up and into his arms. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and my hands grab at his hair, bringing his head closer into me. He groans into the kiss, and begins to walk us towards my room. 

He tastes like everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Like apples and musk, and freedom and home. His cock is still half-hard as it nestles against my core, and I rock my hips experimentally against him. His hands on my hips are bruising, and he groans into the kiss, ripping his mouth away with a punishing nip at my bottom lip. 

“Behave,” he growls. 

The reprimand sends shivers down my spine, and he smirks as he feels it. 

“Does my little sister like being told what to do? I can feel how wet that just made you,” he groans. 

“Don’t call me that,” I pout. I nip at the skin along his jaw in retaliation, and his fingers twitch. 

“What do you want me to call you then?” He asks in a husky voice.

“Yours. Call me anything of yours. Except for that.” I say into his skin. My mouth continues its exploration of his neck, and I lick along the path of water that trails down from his hair. 

He groans and nods. “I can do that. Do you like it when I call you baby?” 

I nod as I continue to lick and suck at his neck. His skin reddens beneath my touch, and the sight of the marks does something feral inside of me. 

He presses me back into the bed and climbs over me. He settles between my parted thighs with a teasing rock of his hips, and his cock glides slowly over my clit. My hips jump at the stimulation, and I moan, my nails digging into the strong muscles of his biceps. 

“Anything else you wanna tell me before we continue?” He asks. 

I wrack my brain to think of anything that he could do that I wouldn’t like, but I draw a blank. As long as Caleb is the one doing it to me, I am open to trying anything. 

There is a massive elephant in the room that I need to address though. The thought of bringing it up makes a sudden wave of anxiety settle over me, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck again. Caleb senses the change in me, and pushes my wet hair back from my face, and strokes along the skin of my shoulders. His touch is soothing and familiar in a way that helps make it easier to open up to him. 

“I’ve never done it before,” I whisper into his skin. 

Caleb freezes above me, and a shudder wracks through his body. He breathes in deep, his heart racing against my palm that hovers against his chest. 

“Did,” Caleb begins, before swallowing hard and trying again, “did you wait for me?” 

His voice is so tender, so full of emotion, that I feel the hot prick of tears sting my eyes. I squeeze them shut and cling even tighter to him, trying to swallow past the emotion that threatens to drown me. I nod. 

It’s like I can feel the shift in his body, as he exhales deep into me. His touch, while gentle before, is downright covetous now. He presses a kiss into my hair, and clings to me tight, as though it will calm the trembling in his body too. 

“What have you done?” He asks softly. 

“I’ve only ever kissed. Everything else is, um, something I’ve done to myself.” I confess. 

He groans, and I feel his cock twitch from half-hard to erect. I can feel as it lengthens and hardens against the slippery folds of my cunt, and Caleb absently rocks his hips gently back and forth, barely hinting at the stimulation his cock promises. 

“Have you only ever used your fingers?” He asks me. 

I shake my head no. “I have a toy.” 

“How big is it?” He asks, “I want to know how much I’ll need to prep you.”

My cheeks burn, and I can’t move my face from his neck to have this conversation face to face. “It’s smaller than you, but I already broke my hymen the first time I used it.” 

He moans into my ear, and the feeling of his breath is hot and warm against my skin. Still a seed of doubt lingers in me. 

“Is that okay?” I ask him, my voice small. 

“Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks, genuine confusion in his voice. 

I can only shrug. “I thought you would want to do it yourself. Are you…disappointed that you can’t?” 

His idle strokes along my skin find my wrists, and he loosens my tight grip on him enough to pull back. One of his hands finds my chin and lifts my face up to look at him. 

“Nothing you can do will ever be a disappointment to me. The fact that you saved yourself from me,” he trails off, at a complete loss for words. His eyes glimmer with an unnamed emotion, before his resolve seems to hit him at once, “I will spend the rest of our lives letting you know every single second of every single day how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. And then I’ll do it all again in the next lifetime after that. And then the next one after that. And then the next one—“

“Okay, okay I get it,” I giggle, my eyes wet with emotion. He smirks at my reaction, before his face gets serious again. His eyes are imploring as he looks down at me, his hand cradling the side of my face. 

“Do you?” He asks gently. 

And I know what he means without words. The tears in my eyes spill over, and he catches each one with his thumbs, wiping them away tenderly. I nod, and smile past the lump in my throat. “Yes, I do.” I gasp. 

He kisses me again, and this time it’s tender. While the passion is still there, it’s shifted. No longer frenzied, but instead worshipful, devoted. His tongue traces along the swell of my lips as though committing their shape to memory with its touch. His hands cradle my head, fingers tangling in the damp strands of my hair as he holds me in place to receive his kiss. 

My hands skate along his skin in kind, tracing along the path of his shoulders in the way that I’ve always longed to. They map out every bump and smooth expanse of his skin in the same desperate need to commit his body to memory. 

His mouth descends from mine to make a path down my throat. His large hands sweep tenderly down my arms, his touch just light enough to raise goosebumps along my skin as I shiver with the need for more. He seems to delight in my sensitivity, as I feel him smile into my throat, before his mouth dedicates itself back to marking me up as I did to him. 

Despite having orgasmed so recently, my blood runs hot, and my core aches with need. Every teasing breath and every light touch only makes me yearn for more. I wonder if his tenderness is because he’s afraid of handling me any rougher. Does he see my virginity as a need to treat me like glass? What if I want more?

“Caleb,” I moan, “stop teasing.”

He bites down gently on my pulse, before he soothes the mark with his tongue. “Don’t rush me. I’ve had over ten years to imagine how I would savor you for the first time. Let me indulge myself a bit.” 

I can’t really argue against such a sweet response like that, but Caleb does take the hint and progress things along. His mouth descends to my breasts, and he tenderly kisses my left nipple, while rolling and caressing my right. The feeling of his mouth on my body is more than I can bear, and I sigh, my back arching into his touch. He pulls back with a messy pop, and his violet eyes are glassy with lust. 

“Hi,” he whispers to my nipple. 

I peer down at him and giggle at his absurdity. “Did you just greet my boob?”

Caleb looks up at me and winks before capturing the bud in his teeth and gently pulling. The soft pinch of pain, makes me whine, and Caleb studies my reaction greedily. 

“They’re so perfect they deserve a proper introduction. After all, we’re going to be very acquainted with one another,” he grins into my skin. 

I roll my eyes, but he captures my nipple again, and bites harder. The pain is sharper, and sends tingles down straight to my core, and my hips rock into him automatically. He hums against my skin, and sucks and soothes at the tight bud in return. With every swipe of his tongue and twist of his fingers, the ache between my thighs grows worse. My hips rock and surge against him, and the tip of his cock glides along the folds of my cunt just enough to provide a hint of stimulation, but not enough to give me what I want. 

I huff, and buck my hips up properly, rocking my cunt hard against the tip of his cock. Caleb moans around my nipple, and bites hard in retaliation, while his hips flex and rock into me. 

He leans up and his lips are swollen and red, slicked with his saliva. The slight makes my pulse pound, and my cunt flutters against his thick length. He grinds his hips more purposefully into me, intentionally dragging out the sensation of his cock sliding against my clit. I keen into the air, my fists twisting tight into the sheets, while my hips raise and chase after the sensation. 

“So fucking greedy. So desperate. You always were so impatient.” He groans, before sliding further down. 

I moan at the loss of his cock against my clit, and he chuckles deep and dark. He uses his hands to pry my legs even farther apart, practically pressing my knees into the mattress. He toys with my flexibility experimentally, before hoisting my legs over his shoulders. Caleb turns his head and presses kisses down the skin of my knees up to my thighs, taking his time to enjoy every tremor and tremble his mouth elicits from its touch. I’m practically shaking by the time he turns to repeat his gentle seduction along my other leg. 

“Caleb, please!” I whine into the air, my hand threading into the soft locks of his hair. He hums and flashes a wicked grin at me, his purple eyes narrowed in mischief. 

“Well since you asked so nicely,” he purrs. 

He trails his nose along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, before hovering just next to my weeping cunt. His eyes drink it in, and he inhales deep, his nostrils flaring as he savors my scent. He groans and his hips twitch against the mattress. His hand releases his grip on my thigh to gently stroke between my folds, spreading my labia apart so he can see every inch of me. 

“It weeps so pretty for me,” he marvels in awe, as his fingers swipe through the thick layer of my arousal. It weeps from my core, staining a puddle into my sheets. The feeling of his fingers, knowing that Caleb is doing this to me, has my heart racing and my cunt flutters in anticipation. He groans at the sight, as more slick dribbles out, and catches it with his tongue. 

Caleb eats me out like a starved man. His tongue is relentless, spearing over every millimeter of my cunt, collecting every drop of arousal that spills out of me. My head is thrown back, and my spine arches, and my grip on his hair tightens. He moans as I pull at his hair, and the vibrations on my cunt make me shriek. He enters my hole with his tongue, fucking me with it, while his thumb traces circles over my clit. 

My hips buck wildly, and he uses the rest of his hand to push down on my abdomen, holding me in place. His other arm wraps around my thigh, holding me open so he can continue to feast on my cunt. The sensations overwhelm me, and I’m reduced to putty in his hands. He’s always been so intuitive with me, always known exactly what to do and how to do it. His knowledge translates perfectly into playing my body like an instrument he’s studied for years. 

It takes mere minutes for me to be on the edge again. My cries of pleasure are loud in the room, interrupted only by the lewd sucking noises he makes with his mouth and occasional groans of pleasure. His thumb moves faster over my clit, combined with the feeling of his tongue stretching me out and filling me over and over again, and my body seizes. 

“Caleb, I’m gonna—“ I shout. I can’t even finish warning him, before he groans into my pussy, and sends me over the edge. The pleasure that crashes into me is transformative. My ears ring, and my lungs stop, and I swear my heart stops beating, as every nerve and every cell in my body is reduced to pleasurable sensation by his hands and tongue. 

He rides out the orgasm by swapping his mouth and hands. His tongue seeks out my clit and sucks it hard into his mouth, as he swiftly plunges two fingers deep inside of me. They’re so thick, and so much longer than my own, and he rocks them in and out relentlessly. My cries are continuous, and my hips buck against his other hand that pins me down. The stimulation is too much, but it’s not enough. I can feel him expertly pushing me towards another peak. 

My cries are guttural, as he crooks his fingers inside of me, finding that spot that I could never reach on my own, and fucks me over and over and over again. 

“Caleb!” I scream, as I crest another powerful orgasm. He detaches his mouth from my cunt and instead keeps pistoning his hand inside of me, his glazed purple eyes watching me closely as I fall apart for him. 

“So fucking pretty when you come for me,” he groans, while keeping his hand pressing down hard on my abdomen. 

The sensations flood me, and I feel a pressure building inside of me that I can’t explain. The release is endless, and gushes out of me, spraying all over his hands and face. Caleb’s eyes flutter and he groans as I squirt over him. It’s only after my hands tug at his wrists that he finally gives my overstimulated cunt a break, and I lay there gasping for breath. 

Caleb looks all but drunk as he pants heavily over me, as though he just experienced an orgasm with me. He watches me for a moment before grasping my chin firmly with his hand and crashing his mouth into mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and the knowledge that it’s me, that it’s my arousal, that saturates his tastebuds fills me with a heady kind of power. I suck on his tongue, desperate for more of it, and he groans into me, his hips grinding against my thigh as he responds to my eager passion. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, pip-squeak,” he slurrs against my lips, “didn’t know you were a squirter.” His hands rub and soothe my thighs that have yet to cease trembling. 

“I didn’t know either,” I breathe into his mouth. 

He smirks against my lips. “I’m honored to be the first.” 

He kisses me lazily, giving me more time to calm myself before pushing me to move forward. My body is languid and lazy from the aftershocks of my pleasure, but my hands roam his skin, greedy for more. My hand trails down along his shoulder to his chest, and follows the trail of my necklace down his pecs. 

I’ve always admired the strength of his body, and his dedication to keeping fit. His muscles are carved from stone, and the heat of him is solid and strong beneath my palm. It’s at odds with the frantic pace of the his heart beating furiously in his chest. As dominant as he may be, he’s still just as effected by me as I am by him. The thought makes my heart soar.

My hand trails down further, following the ridges of his defined abdomen. He gasps at the light touch, and his muscles twitch in response to my gentle exploration. I can tell he wants more, but he restrains himself, allowing me to go at my own pace. My hand continues to dip lower, idly stroking along the veins that run down his adonis belt, before wrapping around the base of his cock. 

The touch of my hand around him, makes him hiss, and I feel him twitch against my palm. I’ve never held a cock before. I don’t know how to make him feel as good as he did to me. But I want to learn. I want to repay the favor. 

With a glance at his face to gauge his reaction, I slowly glide my hand down the length of him from root to tip, slowly tightening my hold around him. He squeezes his eyes tight, and the hand he has supporting himself on the bed tightens into a ball. His other hand wraps around mine, and tightens my grip considerably, until I’m squeezing him in my fist. 

Caleb groans and his whole body shivers as he guides my hand over him, showing me how to pleasure him. After a few strokes, he lets go, and I continue to pump him as he demonstrated. He hisses in pleasure, and his breath is heavy and uneven as he leans into me. 

“Just like that. Doing so good for me, baby. Fucking perfect, like I knew you’d be.” He mutters before capturing my lips in another kiss. 

I experimentally pick up the pace, while swiping my thumb along the slit at the end, smearing his pre-cum down his length. His abs twitch, and he groans into my mouth, before pulling my hand away entirely. 

“Of course you’re a natural. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” He growls before devouring my mouth in a breathless kiss. 

When he pulls away, my body is hot and needy, and I think if I have to wait any longer to properly feel him inside of me I’m going to lose my mind. 

“Do you still want it, pip-squeak?” He asks against my lips. “We don’t have to today. We’ve got all the time in the world. I don’t wanna push you.” 

While I’m touched that he’s willing to hold himself back for me, I’m more focused on the obsessive need building inside of me that only he can take away. I grab ahold of his hair and jerk his head down to look at me. He hisses in pain and glares down at me, but waits for me to speak. 

“Caleb, fuck me right now. That’s an order.” I demand.  

His body ripples in pleasure as his pupils blow wide. He captures my lips in another kiss, before pulling back. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers cheekily. 

He pulls at my legs until my knees are pressed to my chest, and guides his cock towards my entrance. He holds my gaze as he slowly pushes in, feeding me his cock inch by inch. He’s big. So much bigger than my toy or his hands. But I’m so wet that the stretch is only a dull aching pinch. He fills me about halfway before rocking gently back, and I can’t help but glance down at his length. It shines with my arousal, and I whimper with the need to feel him inside me again immediately. Caleb’s hand gently grasps my chin and guides my face back to looking at him as he pushes into me again. 

“Eyes on me,” he demands.

This time he goes deeper, and the pressure builds until I have to grip him tight. It’s an ache that only expands until finally he stills, all of him inside of me. The stretch is almost more than I can take, but Caleb stays put, allowing me to slowly get used to feeling him inside of me. His shoulders tremble, and his eyes flutter shut before fixing on me again. 

“So fucking good. Feel perfect around me. Like I knew you would. Your cunt is made for me. Only me. Only I will ever fill this pussy up,” he mumbles as his mouth grazes across my neck, nipping and sucking at the skin around my collarbone. 

His possession makes me flutter, and he groans, nipping at my skin harder. 

“You like it when I tell you that you’re mine? You like it when I tell you that my cock is made to fill you up? That it will never feel empty ever again, because I will always be there to make it full?” He continues his filthy promises against my skin. 

I whine as my cunt flutters tighter around him, and the sharp edge of pain slowly begins to ebb away. His hand trails down to slowly circle my clit, and the stimulation makes me gasp, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

He rocks his hips experimentally, before pulling about halfway out, before slowly gliding in again. Sparks dance inside of my body as he moves, and the waves of pleasure quickly overtake the pain. He captures my mouth, and moans as his hips slowly start to pick up the pace in earnest. 

With each thrust, the pain dulls to a whisper, and I feel that need for more clawing its way down my spine. He maintains his maddeningly gentle pace, and I think back to how hard, how viciously he fucked the other girl earlier, and my cunt clamps down tight in jealousy. He groans, and thrusts harder, before catching himself and slowing down again. 

“Harder,” I pant into his mouth, “please fuck me harder.” 

His hands tighten on my body, but he pulls back to study my face all the same. “Are you sure?” 

“Please, Caleb. Please fuck me harder, I’ll be so good for you, please, please, please,” I beg. 

It’s like a cord snaps inside of him at the sound of my begging, and his touch becomes iron. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming his hips hard into mine, and I wail out my pleasure into the room. The sound of it is obscene, and only makes me wilder for him. 

“You want me to fuck you hard, is that it?” He asks, while his thrusts become deep and bruising. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I shout, my eyes rolling back in pleasure as he finally gives me what I’ve been wanting. 

His hips snap viscously back and forth, thrusting his cock deep into me over and over again. His cock bullies into my walls deliciously, and stretches me out until I can’t think, I can’t even speak, because all I am is reduced to how he feels inside of me. 

“Was trying to be nice,” Caleb growls, “but my dirty girl wants to be fucked good and hard, is that right?” 

“Yes, please, Caleb!” I scream. 

He moans and grabs at my legs and throws them together over his shoulder, bending me solidly in half, so he can continue to pound deep into me. The angle makes me grip him even tighter, and I can feel the stretch even deeper. My hands fly out, fisting in the sheets, and it’s all I can do to hang on and take his furious pounding. 

He rises up on his knees, and the sight of him, sweaty and towering over me, flushed from the exertion of fucking me, drives me to the edge. I can tell from the wild look in his glassy purple eyes that he’s close behind me. 

As if he can read my thoughts, his eyes narrow down on me like a predator, and his fucking becomes all but savage. “You gonna cum for me, sweet girl? Are you gonna cum all over my cock?”

I moan at the sinful words and stutter for air. I can feel his cock throb inside of me, and I spasm as I try to find a hold on the sheets beneath me. His thrusts are frenzied and ruthless, and it takes only a few more before I’m coming for him. His cock is relentless, dragging out the pleasure of my orgasm as my cunt spasms around him. I wail my pleasure loud into the room, and scream his name as I cum. 

“That’s it baby. Feel so fucking good. Gonna make me cum. Where do you want it?” He asks, his words half drunk as he fucks me to oblivion and back. I gather what little strength I have left in my arms and pull him down onto me. His weight smothers me, and our skin is slick with our sweat.

“Inside, please,” I whine. 

He moans and his thrusts become erratic. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites down while his hips rutting mindlessly as he comes. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside of me, and his hot cum filling me up brings me to a soft peak, and I clench around him, milking his cock dry. His moans and heavy breaths fill my ear, and I pull him to collapse completely on top of me. His heavy weight is grounding, and makes me feel even more connected to him as we gather our breaths. 

Finally, he rolls off of me with a huff, and pulls me with him so that I’m burrowed in his arms. He grips me tight, and his hands stroke idly along my skin, uncaring of the sweat that covers it. As our bodies cool down, he pulls back and cups my face in his hand. The look in his eyes is heavy and fills me with an emotion I can’t name. He kisses me softly, sweetly, pouring everything he feels into it. I grab tight onto his wrists and kiss him back, hoping that he can feel my response as clearly. 

“Can we do this forever?” He asks me softly. 

I turn my head and kiss the palm that cups my cheek. “Forever and ever.” 

His smile is soft and sleepy, but still filled with his trademark mischief. “And forever after that?” 

A small, pitiful moan escaped you, and the shuddering bolts of pleasure ceased for a moment before they returned in full force, a long, wet stride all across your cunt that immediately disappeared after attacking. You heard yourself moan again as the colder room temperature teased your heated pussy. Then the weight around you shifted, the ground you laid on giving way to something, and you missed the sensation between your legs that were now attacked by the cold air.

Groggily, you forced your eyes open, even just a crack, but what you saw was completely distorted and blurred, making you sigh in disappointment. Where were you? What had happened? Distorted memories left unclear and incoherent thoughts in your mind that you couldn't make sense of.

"... awake?" someone called out to you, but it sounded like they spoke through a thick layer of water. You wanted to reply with a short "yeah," but it sounded more like garbled groaning than anything. Someone laughed before you felt a cold touch draw over the curve of your nose, down your cheekbone, and press against your jaw, tilting your head gently upwards. More muffled words that you could barely understand fell around you, which began to frustrate you.

"... a few pills... you... so cute."

Instinct made you grin, although you didn't know if your lips followed your brain's orders. You liked compliments; who didn't? They made you feel all warm inside your belly, warmth that slowly crept lower and lower until it found your clit, rubbing the sore nub in slow circles. You sighed, and something soft laid down on top of your lips, playing with them, softly vibrating as they moved, the voice now much louder.

"You like that, huh?" it murmured against your mouth, making you swallow the words as you released another soft sigh. "You like being called cute while I tease your pussy, don't you?"

"Mhm," you managed to say out loud. You liked it—liked it a lot! Those fingers were calloused, but they worked eagerly. If you didn't know it better, you'd say they did their best to please you. It made you feel adored to be taken care of, sweet nothings trailing off the lips that played with yours, calling you "good girl" and "sweetheart". They told you how wet you were for him and how well you'd take his cock. In your delirium, you smiled, agreeing obediently, opening your lips to welcome this stranger's tongue when it came prodding. It was a nice, sexy dream, an illusion so lovely you never wanted to wake from it.

As you ground against the hand, allowing the fingertips to invade you, and slowly working your way down on them, your eyes suddenly snapped open, reality crashing into you like the wind toppling over a fragile house of cards. You tore away from the kiss, gasping out loud as you reeled for air. Unfortunately, your sudden movements caused two of his fingers to slip in up to his knuckles, and you mewled at the strike of pleasure that hit you.

"C-Caleb?!" you screamed, in shock at who you saw hovering over you, holding his mouth with a pained expression. You might have accidentally bit him or ripped his lip open—but that wasn't what you should have been concerned about at all!

Looking down, you saw his hand still molded to your pussy, and as soon as he noticed your eyes shifting downwards, he gave his fingers a little wiggle inside you, confirming your worst nightmare as you felt them moving and teasing your walls.

"S-Stop!" you yelled, wanting to force your hands into his chest when you noticed they weren't moving an inch. Neither were your legs, and you cranked your head upwards, confused, finding them tightly constricted in leather shackles. Those that you had only ever seen to be used in pornos, spreading over your whole wrist and cushioned on the inside. Something that had to be prepared.

"What are you doing?!" you instead snapped at Caleb, directing your focus on him. More than the horror of waking up to him playing with your body, panic began spreading through you like wildfire as you realized you were unable to move.

"Why?" he chuckled, finally swiping the back of his hand across his lower lip, and you saw the small drops of blood you had left on him. "I'm taking care of you. You fell asleep and rubbed against me as if you needed help; I am just assisting you with that."

"What?! No! I... I'd never do that..."

Shaking his head, Caleb gave you the look of someone who believed you were lying just to keep face, but you were telling the truth! Why would you even?! And why him, of all people?! Not even your tired self would seek comfort or pleasure from him... would you?

"So dishonest," he criticized, and his fingers separated inside you, forcing your walls to cling to them. "And here I was, so nice preparing everything for you. So you'd be ready for me once you woke up. You should appreciate my efforts more."

"Your... efforts?! Caleb, this is inappropriate! We don't even know each other that well, and that's beside the point—just stop this!"

Shaking in your shackles, you wished you were a mind-reader. Maybe it would have told you something about his unreadable expression as he stared at you. Perhaps it would have explained why Caleb calmly but firmly, full of conviction, replied, "No," before leaning down and kissing you again.

Pulling his fingers slowly, teasingly out of you, Caleb didn't hesitate to plunge back in, quickly finding a suitable rhythm to fuck you. All while his lips assaulted your mouth, forcing his tongue back in and his free hand sneaking beneath you to support your neck, just so he could tilt your head back and make it harder to refuse his advances. Wrecked by shudders, you wound yourself in your restraints, always hoping to win some distance between you two. However, the position made it nearly impossible.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste you," he mumbled between kisses. "How long I've been planning this, to capture your body and soul."

"Mhm--! Stop--!"

"I won't. I'll never."

And with that, it felt like the deal was sealed. Caleb wouldn't let you get another word in as he kissed you into breathlessness, working his fingers into your dripping cunt. Slipping his thumb back up to your clit, you felt utterly exposed as he teased it with deliberate movements. Everything beneath his palm had heated up, your flesh raw and wet, welcoming him even though every shock of pleasure pained you as much as it pleased you.

You screamed against his lips, and Caleb swallowed all your anger and insults as if they were a delicious treat. It wasn't long until your body betrayed you, your heartbeat raging in your chest as he brought you close to the edge. Your voice had long turned hoarse, your moans all that was left from your resistance while your hips curled upwards, reaching for just a little bit more. It was humiliating. And good. And terrible. Catastrophic.

But your orgasm was earth-shattering.

You had never known it could feel so good to be fingered. That being assaulted could have these kinds of effects on your body. Nobody told you that your back could still arch and your toes claw into the blanket as you came, even though you never wanted to. Tensing in your restraints, the pain was non-existent, even when you fell slack, the fall from grace crueler than this whole situation.

Silent tears wet your cheeks. Perhaps you were too stunned to speak, but with abhorrent focus, you watched him lick every inch of his hand clean, Caleb's face flushed, his eyes sparkling until his gaze shifted to you. Immediately, the light faded out of them, but the corners of his mouth curled higher into a maniacal grin.

"You can be honest now. Didn't it feel good?" he asked, and a hundred different insults flitted through your mind in response.

"You're awful," you pressed out through gritted teeth, more tears collecting in your eyes. "What did I ever do to you?"

At your words, his grin seemed only to widen unnaturally.

"Well, for once, you ignored me all this time, pretending to be uncomfortable despite obviously being very comfortable with what I can do for you. Were you trying to make me jealous, flirting with all these other guys at your work? Don't you know I've been waiting for you to come to me all this time? And as if it's not enough torture I had to endure, what were you thinking wearing your sexy underwear coming to a movie night with my sis and me?"

"H-How... How do you know that?!" you stammered, cursing yourself for not doing your laundry and wearing something normal that day, but who could have expected it to result in this?!

"I have my way, hun, no less since I got to take it off you, at least. But I've had enough of this teasing. I've decided to have my cake and eat it too, even though it pains me that I had to lure you here by pretending to be my sister. She doesn't even know you were supposed to come today, but don't worry, I'll make sure you're thoroughly entertained."

"You... You psycho..."

"Ah," he hummed, but the smile never vanished. "If that's what I must be to finally get you all to myself, so be it. And now that I have you, I'm not sure I ever want to let you leave again."

Caleb hummed thoughtfully for a moment, undoubtedly scheming another hideous plan in his mind.

"Hey..." you mumbled nervously, goosebumps spreading all over your body as his words slowly began to register. "Just let me go, okay? We can forget all of this, and I'll just leave, and you won't have to see me again. I... I won't go to the police either, so can you just let me go, please?"

"I don't think so, you cutie pie," Caleb replied with no hesitation whatsoever, not even a moment to think about it. Sliding most of his body between your legs again, you watched as his devilish grin disappeared beneath your belly, only to feel his tongue lick up the spill dripping from your pussy moments later. He laved it up thoroughly, taking his time to taste and hum appreciatively, the sound vibrating against your puffy lips. Everything inside you screamed to close your legs, but with the restraints and Caleb's body between them, you had no way of doing it.

Staring at the ceiling, you silently wept, the occasional moan slipping past your lips as you wondered where you had gone wrong. You never expected Caleb to feel this way about you, much less act on his crazed thoughts! There were some raised red flags, but nothing that would have told you about the true danger you were in, and despite his accusations, you weren't guilty of leading him on or teasing him!

Caleb's head popped up once more as you contemplated, growing a bit too still for his liking, it seemed. You met his gaze with your blurred one, and he smiled, softer now, but you noticed his hand reaching down to his belt, opening it before moving on to his zipper.

"N-No...!" you mewled, and Caleb watched the horror etched in your expression, a sense of adoration washing over his. The stark contrast of your reactions didn't help soothe you, but it taught you an important lesson: It had never been your fault.

You were just unlucky to become his object of obsession.

"I'll make sure you won't be able to walk away from me once I'm done," he sighed blissfully, his massive cock springing free from his pants, his eyes never straying from you, even when he lined it up to your entrance.

he yanked your hips back harder, slamming into you with a force that made the bed frame creak, you held back a cry. your teeth sank deeper into the sheet, biting down hard to muffle your screams as he used your body. you wanted to say you're sorry, but nothing but moans left your mouth. you didn't even know if it was your conscious mind that didn't want the end or if it was your body that physically couldn't.

caleb flipped you as if you were nothing more than a doll, his eyes staring at your face, and the expression on his was one you had only ever seen directed at the poor soldiers beneath him.

you closed your eyes, trying to deny to yourself that you were enjoying it. but how could you not? the man was managing to put you over the edge with just his cock alone. you just wished he would touch you already. more than he already was.

he held your chin. "eyes open." you shook your head, too embarrassed to obey, but his patience was running short and soon his hand slammed against your mound, too close to your clit. your legs tried to close in reflex, only to be stopped by him. "don't."

you whimpered, looking at him and feeling tiny, pathetic even for not even being able to talk back. he grabbed your leg, biting slightly your flesh. "every time you tell that ridiculous lie," caleb said in a harsh tone, "i will refresh your memory of what we really are."

you spent the whole friday with your stepbrother caleb, he took you to the mall and bought every single item you landed your eyes on— something that slowly became a habit at the end of the week.

you’ve noticed how he seemed unsettled, anxious when driving back home, something about the way you smelt, the way you hair fell down your back and the way your skirt hugged your body tightly was hard to ignore for him. caleb was trying to be patient with you, let things take a natural course, but there was only so much he could take. he was a man with needs after all.

the way you’d lick sauce off your mouth with that wet and pinky tongue of yours, blushing when he stared at you too intensely, the way you’d ask him to help you choose between dresses, having to witness your naked body inside the changing room. he wanted to play it cool, normalize your sister—brother relationship but it seemed his dick had a mind of its own.

how was he supposed to keep his hands to himself if you sat on his lap when looking for a movie to wrap up such a perfect friday? squirming while trying to find a comfortable position on top of his muscular and long legs. he could feel the fabric of your damn panties against the sweats he put on when stepping inside the house— if he tried harder enough he could smell a faint scent of sweat coming from your skin due to the body heat he emanated.

caleb just couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t give you more time. he just had to place his feet flat on the ground while holding your hips, thrusting his own in a circling motion, the gasp escaping your plump lips another reason to keep going. your silky panties became wet and the friction was so much more smoother, grabbing your throat to push your back against his chest and pepper wet kisses all over your face, shushing you when questioning what he was doing— “ shh, pips, gege is just playing a little game cuz this movie is so boring. ” “ it’ll be a lot more fun, you trust me? ”

and of course you trust him :( letting your big brother manhandle you against the comfort of your bed, opening your legs wide to settle between them and take a look at the silky fabric, massaging your clit slowly. you were incredibly wet, but he needed it wetter. messier. his mind running foggy when the heat engulfing his balls became too much, having to take a second when his head started spinning.

he didn’t think about it and just took a bottle of cherry scented cream from your nightstand, pouring it over your stupid panties and his now free cock, moaning at the cold feeling. god, caleb knew he was even more sensitive than you, moaning louder than your vocal cords could allow you, starting to rut against your core with sloppy movements.

the softness of your unaware sighs pushed him to the edge, penetrating your pussy through the damp fabric, his glasses getting foggy and adding to the mush he had going on his fucked up head. — “ f-fuck, yes, yes… ” is all he could murmur, leaning over to spit in your droolly mouth and lick your parted lips :(

you (he) were like two puppies in heat who didn’t know how to get off, rutting against each other and spitting in your love—bitten lips, moaning harder against his when he turned you around, toying now with the hole you never dared to touch. — “ g-gege, nngh, not there ! ” “ shh, princess, take it . . . you’ll fucking love it. ” and so he fucked his cockhead into your ass, grabbing onto the fat of your hips.

hard, sloppy and wet.

it didn’t take long for both of you to come undone, his balls full of cum he had to hold on for the whole day, shooting warm white ropes against your back while your juices dripped all over the mattress, pooling underneath you, almost passing out against the soft and welcoming fluffy pillows.

you don’t even remember when caleb knelt behind you to lick your panties clean, spreading your pussy lips underneath the fabric with his thumbs as he fucked the cloth against you over and over with his tongue, not getting enough of the cherry taste. let’s say he edged himself over and over while you definitely passed out.

his hands touch you wherever he can reach, his hips settling between your spread thighs, pressing closer and closer and closer. the heat of your core against him is enough to make his eyes roll back. so hot and inviting, even through the layers of clothes.

"you're so perfect, pips." his hips roll forward, a stuttered movement as he tries to control himself. he wants so badly — wants to feel you, wants to taste you, wants to worship you the way you deserve, wants you. "feel s'good.."

you respond in kind, your legs falling open more to make room for him, to urge him closer.

"c-caleb," you whisper, arms tightening around him like you're afraid he might disappear, that he might leave if he knew how much you want him.

with a gentle shush, he's kissing your neck, trailing up until he gets to your jaw. he presses forward and you gasp as you feel him. hot and big and throbbing. in a moment, his lips are on yours and he's swallowing every sound you make, just as you're swallowing his.

it's desperate and messy and filled with so much spit, but it's absolutely perfect. his cock grinding against you, the fabric between you becoming wet and sticky with both of your arousals.

"gege, please..." you want more. want anything and everything he can give you, consequences be damned. the coil in your stomach is growing tighter and tighter with every perfect roll of his hips. your cunt aches to feel him bare, to feel his hot and heavy length spread your folds, to feel him fill you up.

"fuck, pipsqueak." his rhythm picks up, becomes even more desperate as he loses himself in the sensation of feeling you pressing against him. he can feel how wet you're getting, your panties soaking through your shorts. he can only imagine how pretty your pussy must look right now, how it must look swollen and dripping with slick. "i'm gonna, gonna make you feel so good. i promise."

your nails dig into his back, your hips rising to meet every thrust. the friction and heat are driving you mad, making it near impossible to think of anything else other than caleb on top of you. his body against yours, his bulge grinding on your pussy, his mouth desperate on yours.

the cries of your orgasms are muffled by the other, kissing hungrily and panting heavily. the wetness only grows between you, his sweatpants stained with his cum, his dick twitching and pulsing. you can feel it. the warmth of his release, the throbbing of his cock. and you only pull him closer, feeling your thighs shake and the gush of your own cum settle in your panties.

"so fuckin' perfect for me," caleb praises, huffing against your parted lips. he moves then, far more quickly than you anticipated, your mind and reflexes slowed from your orgasm.

he's pulling your shorts down before you can protest, your drenched underwear following. his tongue darts out to lick his lips, his violet eyes looking dark and stormy as he stares at your pussy. hungry.

manipulative!caleb who kneels next to your bed, caressing your sleeping face so delicately as if you’d brake, staring at you for way too long.

manipulative!caleb who woke you up with wet kisses pressing against the soft of your skin, moving them to your lips when you started to stir awake ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

manipulative!caleb who has one of his big palms pressed against your belly (the same way he did when he slowly thrusted into you to feel the bulge in your stomach) and the other one caressing your messy hair, whispering a ‘good morning, doll’.

manipulative!caleb who helps you dress up, taking off your comfy pj’s so he could change your underwear into a fresh pair, keeping the old ones in his pocket.

“stand up for me, doll.” he said in a low tone, watching you from above as you did, noticing how you yawned and rubbed your eyes while being almost completely naked in front of him; nothing new to you two anyway.

“very good girl, now lift your legs.” he commanded again, kneeling so his eyes were directly leveled to your hips, kissing your belly and gaining a happy laugh from you, smiling at the sound.

his long fingers pulled your panties down, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs along the way before dressing you with a new pair, keeping the slightly wet ones inside his pocket, you’ve never really questioned that. he has to have his reasons, right? you know everything he does is for your own good (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶)

manipulative!caleb who’s completely devoted to you, worships you as if you were a mere goddess.

manipulative!caleb who sits you up on the kitchen counter and feeds you himself after brushing your hair and helping you do your make up, stealing kisses from you when your parents weren’t looking.

manipulative!caleb who gets on his knees once again to shoe your feet, kissing them too before doing so.

manipulative!caleb who drops you in front of your uni’s entrance, a wide smile plastered on his lips when he sees you waving at him effusively.

manipulative!caleb who doesn’t move the car an inch before seeing you disappear through the tall doors.

manipulative!caleb who enjoys scaring your friends away, mostly males. but females too. it’s a way to steam off the stress.

“you’re very quiet now, hmm? aren’t you going to whisper in my ear like you did with my sister?” he mocked, watching the man curl in pain against the alleyway dirty floor.

“what? can’t take a little punching?” caleb questioned, squatting next to him now, laughing genuinely when the young man spat blood out of his mouth.

“well, alright, let’s leave this here for now. it’s the second time i have to warn you.” he stood up, cracking his broken knuckles. “i’ll kill you if there’s a third.” he simply said, as if the words he mouthed weren’t serious.

“you wouldn’t be the first one anyway!” he spoke loudly as he walked with calm steps outside the alleyway.

manipulative!caleb who kinda manipulates your parents, too. he doesn’t want anyone suspecting anything.

manipulative!caleb who, to your parents eyes, is a very protective big brother who takes care of you since you were kids, nothing more than that.

manipulative!caleb who’s favorite time of the day is when he has to put you to sleep.

manipulative!caleb who, after showering you, feeding you dinner and tucking with you in bed, gets a little horny.

manipulative!caleb who likes to sit you on his lap in the darkness of your room, loudly kissing your lips and toying with the fat of your ass.

“hmmph, gege!” you yelped when you felt his big hands coming down you butt, holding onto his naked chest as you pouted.

“sorry, pips, I can’t help it.” he lied, he wasn’t sorry at all. “you know i get excited when we play like this, hmm?” caleb whispered against your lips, going for another kiss.

manipulative!caleb who likes to spit in your mouth when he makes you ride him, coaxing you to spit in his by telling you he feels thirsty and that’s the only way you could help him ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

manipulative!caleb who likes it nasty, wet and messy, and gets his way by begging you over and over.

manipulative!caleb who whispers weak ‘i love you’s when he cums inside your creamy pussy; always.

manipulative!caleb who has to sleep in his room so your parents don’t question him, jerking off with your panties wrapped around his cock again and again because you’re the only thing he can think about.

manipulative!caleb who’s life orbits around you, everything is about you, you, you.

manipulative!caleb who made up his mind and convinced himself that, when you two move out, will lock you in a room and never let you go.

you don’t need anyone but your gege ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১

a/n: in my mind this and the other two caleb writings i have happen in the same universe, so we’ve got possessive and manipulative big brother caleb ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა