notes: i was trying something new here, so be gentle with me; first time writing in a headcanon style and first smut, lol
kickboxing coach!sukuna who’s been running his private gym for years, tucked away in a gritty warehouse corner of the city, and has seen every flavour of wannabe walk through the door—arrogant fighters, weekend warriors, bored socialites, rich kids looking for abs. most quit by week three.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who’s mid-spar with a heavy bag when the door creaks open and you step in, fresh gear still smelling of the store, and with bright eyes, you ask for one-on-one training.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who stops the bag with one glove, sweat dripping off his jaw, pink hair sticking to his forehead, sizes you up in a single slow sweep, and snorts, already certain you won’t last.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who, when you don’t back down, just shrugs and tells you flatly that you pay for three months upfront, no refunds when you quit. not if, but when, because he knows you will quit and he’s not wasting his time.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who starts you the next day anyway. he has to take your hands, his fingers thick and calloused, to wrap them properly because your first attempt looks like it’ll fall apart after one jab. he mutters the whole time, “tighter. no, tighter. you want broken knuckles on day one?”
kickboxing coach!sukuna who expects excuses, missed sessions, and soft effort, but instead finds you fifteen minutes early for every session, already warmed up and wrapped exactly the way he showed you, so you won’t waste any moment of actual training.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who can’t take his eyes off you by the end of month one. you’re bruised, breathing like you’ve run a marathon, but every time he barks a correction, you reset and try again without whining or excuses.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who realises you haven’t missed a single day. he begins correcting your stance by placing his hands on your hips, adjusting the angle without asking, with his palms lingering half a second longer than they should.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who begins staying late to run extra pad work with you as the gym empties out. week by week, he watches your kicks sharpen, power building in your hips, balance locking in, precision tightening until every strike lands where he tells you to put it.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who starts noticing stupid little details: how your breathing steadies when you focus, the bead of sweat tracking down your collarbone, how your eyes flick to him every time you throw a combo like you’re waiting for approval. he tells himself it’s just good coaching, but he finds himself leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you work the heavy bag for far longer than necessary. it’s irritating how hard it is to look away.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who realises, somewhere around the time you finally deliver a clean 8-step combo without him having to fix your feet, that the faster and sharper you get, the more utterly fucked he is. you’re not just improving; you’re beautiful doing it. the images of your hair sticking to your neck when you’re tired, and little victorious huffs when you nail a technique, now follow him outside the gym.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who gives you a complicated drill in your sixth month of training and holds the pads for you on his forearms. he wasn’t expecting you to nail the full combo perfectly, let alone follow it with an extra kick that flows seamlessly, entirely your own addition. it lands harder than anything before it, forcing him to take a step back as his eyes snap to yours, followed by a low, rough rasp, “don’t get cocky, brat.”
kickboxing coach!sukuna, whose control snaps when you smirk, whispering, “then make me stop, coach,” and without hesitation, kick harder anyway, power snapping through the pads, forcing him another step back.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who drops the pads and backs you into the nearest wall in one stride, hands slamming down on either side of your head, caging you in two metres of muscle and ink, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to hold his stare.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who kisses you slowly at first like he’s still proving he’s in charge, but loses it the second your fingers fist his tank top and tug him closer. he takes over with a deep growl in his chest, tracing his hot mouth down your neck as one large palm slides under your sports bra, thumb brushing over your nipple. the other hand keeps you pinned as he grinds slowly against you, so you feel exactly how hard watching you train has made him.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who exhales through his teeth, “we’re done for today,” even though both of you know exactly where this is going, before dropping to his knees, yanking your shorts and panties down in one rough pull, and spreading your thighs over his massive shoulders. the first taste of you hits like a drug, and he groans into your soaked cunt.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who eats you out like a man starved. slow licks turn into hungry, open-mouthed kisses and hard, relentless sucking on your clit. his tongue then dips lower to push between your folds, fucking you with it while his thumbs spread you wider.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who keeps going until you’re trembling and whining, fingers in his hair, hips bucking against his face. when you come, clenching around his tongue, he laps up every drop, without a care in the world that he’s drowning in you. his chest is heaving, and he’s never felt more alive than when you’re shaking apart because of him.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who stands up only when you’re dripping down his chin and shoves his shorts down to reveal a rock-hard, leaking cock slamming against his abs. he smirks as your eyes widen at the size of him, because he’s been aching for you for weeks months and finally seeing that look on your face is worth every second of waiting. “like what you see?”
kickboxing coach!sukuna who spins you around before you can answer, makes you brace your palms on the cool gym mirror, and sinks into you in one excruciatingly slow, deep thrust while cooing low against your ear, “shh, relax, you can take it.” the heat and plush of your tight walls rip another raw hiss out of his throat.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who fucks you steady at first, dragging his cock out just to thrust back in deeper, savouring every inch and every little hitch in your breath as he watches your face in the mirror. every time your eyes flutter shut because it feels too fucking good when he’s hitting that sweet spot that makes your thighs shake, his grip tightens on your hips and he growls low, “i said look. watch how well you take me.”
kickboxing coach!sukuna who leans over you, chest pressed tight to your back, mouth brushing your ear, “come on—cum for me. let me feel it.” his hips snap harder, deeper, relentlessly driving into that spot that makes your breath catch and your palms squeak against the mirror.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who feels you start to tighten, your thighs trembling against his, and slides one hand down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit. he hums against your skin, voice dropping to that low, coaxing rasp, “there you go… good girl. make a mess for me.”
kickboxing coach!sukuna who lets out a deep groan when you finally do, clenching hard around him, crying out his name, and squirting over his cock, the mirror, the mat beneath you. only then does he let go, burying himself to the hilt with a hoarse, “fuuuuck—” as he spills inside you, before both of you collapse in a sweaty, wrecked heap on the mats.
kickboxing coach!sukuna who, after catching his breath, pulls you against his chest, thumb tracing lazy circles on the marks he left on your neck, and mutters, “tomorrow’s session starts at noon. you’re gonna need sleep… and ice.”
kickboxing coach!sukuna who lies there in the quiet gym, sweat cooling on both of you, and knows this is how every session ends from now on. you’re not walking out of his gym for good.
notes: posting this because today i passed an exam of my country's kickboxing association (be proud of me), so i'm now officially licensed to deliver certified beatings. and i just need to spread the kickboxing propaganda.
a stranger mistakes Sukuna for just another man checking you out at the bar
The bar is packed, but the music’s just loud enough to keep the mood alive without swallowing conversation whole while warm, low lights flicker off every glass and the polished mahogany, painting the room in a soft, golden haze. Over by the high-top, you’re wedged between Shoko, Yuki, Utahime and Akari, laughter bubbling out of you so hard you nearly spill your drink.
A few meters away, Sukuna emerges from the back hallway, drying his hands on a paper towel before tossing it into the trash. He’s halfway to the booth where Gojo, Toji, Suguru, and Choso are already arguing over something stupid, but the second your laughter cuts through the noise, his dark crimson eyes snap to you, and he freezes mid-step.
Tonight, you’re absolutely breathtaking. Maybe it's the way the warm light catches in your hair, or the dress that fits every curve just right, or maybe it's just you. All he knows is that you look so beautiful that watching you feels almost unfair.
He just stands there, massive and completely still, his face softening into open admiration as he drinks you in.
Next to him, a man leaning against the end of the bar catches the moment the huge, inked brute suddenly goes still. Curiosity flickers across his face as he follows Sukuna's line of sight across the room, and the second his eyes land on you, his eyebrows shoot up in appreciation. He takes a slow sip of his drink, then slides a little closer to Sukuna, nodding toward you like they’re already in on some joke.
"You noticed her too, huh?" he asks with an easy grin, sounding entirely too sure of himself.
Sukuna doesn’t bother to look at him. His gaze stays glued to you, watching you laugh with Shoko, and a small, proud tilt curls at the corner of his mouth.
"Hard not to," Sukuna rumbles. "She looks way too damn good for a place like this."
"Right?" the stranger says, taking another slow sip of his drink, clearly taking that agreement as an invitation to keep talking. His gaze drags over Sukuna’s massive build, the plain shirt, joggers, and face tattoos, and a cocky smirk appears on his face, like he’s already decided he’s got the upper hand. “Hottest woman in here, hands down. Gorgeous, carries herself well, and that smile… I was just about to head over, buy her a drink, see where the night takes us.”
Sukuna finally turns his head, sizing the man up with calm, almost lazy interest. He’s objectively handsome—tall, impeccably groomed, his shirt tailored tight over a sharp, well-built frame. He looks like the type who’s used to getting whatever he wants and moves through the world with the confidence that says he’s never had to fight for attention.
"Yeah?" Sukuna rasps, amusement flickering in his eyes as the man keeps embarrassing himself.
"I mean, c'mon, look at her," the stranger continues, sipping his drink. "She looks like she’s got real standards. Probably has a great job, drinks the good stuff. She needs a guy who knows how to keep up with her and actually treat her right."
Leaning back against the bar, Sukuna crosses his massive arms over his chest, thoroughly entertained by the sheer audacity of it all. Listening to a complete stranger explain what kind of man his wife needs is absurd enough that he's more than happy to let him keep digging his own grave.
"Yeah, she’s something else alright," Sukuna drawls. "You really think she'd go for you?"
"Oh, I know she would," the man replies, adjusting his cuff with a smug grin. "I've got the job, the car, the looks. Women like her know a good thing when they see it."
A deep, amused huff rumbles out of Sukuna. If this idiot so much as crossed a real line, he’d snap his neck without a second thought. For now, though, watching this polished suit walk himself straight into a wall is way too funny to interrupt.
"You've got it all figured out, huh?"
"Hey, confidence gets results," the stranger says, grinning. “Tell you what—friendly wager.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his leather wallet, fishes out a crisp, high-value bill, and slides it across the bar between them. "This says I'll have her number and a kiss before the night's out."
Sukuna tilts his head, a wicked smirk slowly spreading across his face.
"Alright,” he says. “Mind if I go first?"
The stranger gives Sukuna one last once-over, lingering on the intimidating ink on his face, the back of his neck, and the lines wrapping around his wrists and biceps. To him, Sukuna looks like someone who got lost on his way home from the gym, or maybe a prison, though he’s a little too well-kept for that. He lets out a dismissive chuckle, already certain there's no way a woman like you would give a brute in joggers the time of day.
"Go right ahead, man," the guy says, waving him on. "Show me how it's done. No chance in hell you're pulling her."
"Watch," Sukuna says simply, pushing off the bar and walking across the floor, his massive frame cutting right through the crowded room.
Over by the bar, you're mid-sentence when a broad, warm palm gently taps your shoulder. You turn around, and the moment your eyes land on your husband, your whole face lights up.
"Hey," you breathe, the sight of him instantly making your cheeks flush warm. He looks stupid hot tonight, towering over everyone around him.
Sukuna steps in so close that your back presses into the edge of the bar, his body boxing you in until there's nowhere else to go. He pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to you, leaning down until his mouth hovers right at your ear.
"Can you look up that Korean place we went to, like, two months ago?" he rumbles, his voice low and soft against your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver racing down your spine. "I can't remember the name."
"Oh, so now you need me?" you tease, but your fingers are already flying over the screen. "Yeah, hang on…"
Across the room, the man at the bar narrows his eyes, watching you take Sukuna's phone without a hint of hesitation and immediately start tapping away. He smirks, swirling the melting ice in his glass, already convinced he's seen this play before. Classic move, he thinks, assuming you're just typing in a fake number to get the giant out of your personal space. He's already rehearsing his opening line for when Sukuna walks away empty-handed.
You hand the phone back to Sukuna, a triumphant little smile tugging at your lips. "Found it."
“Thanks, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, sliding the phone into his pocket.
His palm reaches up, fingers gently catching your chin, and he tilts your face up to his. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, sweet, unhurried, and so deliberate it makes your heart skip a beat. When he pulls back just a breath, his crimson eyes catch yours, gleaming with smug, mischievous heat. A knowing smirk tugs at his mouth as he shifts his weight, about to step away.
Across the bar, the guy rolls his eyes, muttering, “A polite peck? That doesn't count for shit—"
He doesn’t even get to finish the thought. The second Sukuna starts to pull away, your hands fly up, and your fingers twist tight into the front of his shirt. You yank him back down, but even then, you still have to rise onto your toes, stretching just to reach him. Your mouth crashes into his in a kiss that’s deep, intense, and filthy enough to strip away any composure he might have had left.
A low, surprised rumble vibrates against your lips before Sukuna's arm snaps around your waist and his other hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. He only deepens the kiss, his thumb digging into your hip while you cling to his shirt just to keep him close.
The stranger hasn’t moved at all, his jaw practically welded to the floor. His eyes are wide, blown out in pure shock, watching as the gorgeous woman he’d been so sure about just yanked a terrifying brute down for a kiss that leaves nothing to the imagination.
"What the fuck..." he mutters, staring in disbelief. "No way he actually pulled that off..."
Toji passes by on his way to the bathroom and hears the words. Without even slowing his pace, he just glances at the man’s stunned expression, lets out a dry, wheezing chuckle, and deadpans over his shoulder, “That's his wife, moron."
By the time your grip loosens and you drop back onto your heels, your breath is ragged, lips flushed and tingling, and you’re staring up at your husband with nothing but shameless, unfiltered adoration.
Sukuna’s thumb drags slowly across your lower lip, tugging it just a little, while a broad, utterly satisfied grin stretches across his face.
“Good girl,” he rasps, lowering his voice, and the praise sends a jolt right between your legs.
"Every fucking time," Shoko groans from the side. "One drink and you're attached to him again."
"You say that like I'm complaining," Sukuna chuckles.
"I fail to see the problem either," you chirp with a shameless grin.
Shoko shakes her head at you, then looks at your husband. "You know, I used to have a lot less patience for you. It's annoying how much harder you've become to stay mad at."
Sukuna just snorts at that.
"Anyway," he says, giving your waist one last squeeze before glancing at the rest of the group. "You girls joining us at the booth?"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Now shoo," Yuki says, waving him away. "We've got gossip to catch up on first."
Sukuna just lifts his hands in mock surrender, huffing an amused laugh as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the stranger waiting at the end of the bar.
“Easiest money I've made all week,” he drawls, picking up the bill. He gives the stunned man a small nod and walks toward his friends at the booth.
He’s been stalking you for a few years, waiting for the perfect moment to finally have you.
Second person pronouns used only, no mention of y/n.
No ai was used for this. Non sorcerer au.
This is my first story ever. Go easy on me.
Reader is 24-27, Nanami is 27
Wc: 4k
18+ Mdni!!
Cw: d!ck in puh. dacryphilia. A little plot. Fat dick!nanami. Pussy eating. F!ngering. Unprotected sex. You’ve got a deep dish. Make outs. Mating press. Stomach bulging. Obsessed!Nanami. Size difference. Size kink.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
𐙚
“Look at me baby..”
Red-hot. Face wounded in pleasure, he’s so close to you. Nanami’s mouth open huffing air, breathing down yours. Your face is tilted upward, brows scrunched in pleasure. Mouth hanging out in a beautiful ‘o’ shape with your eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling wet.
Where are you?
He’s got you in his bedroom. It’s so simple. So very him. White satin transparent curtains slightly open, welcoming nothing but the blackness of the sky. The lamp on his dark wooden bedside table, hugged all in cotton wool light. The only available light in the room. So dim. But enough that he sees all of you. His cream coloured walls doused in your pictures- your pictures. You. Painted, etched, drawn into them. Everything of you, about you imprinted into this room. His room. Now yours.
It's all for you. He did it for you.
From your undergarments scattered across the planked floor to your hair ties you specifically alternate within the week, your favourite scrunchies, pictures of you sleeping so soundly in your cosy cat pyjamas. Pictures of his hands caressing your naked ass as you slept. Your bracelets that went missing weeks ago. Your favourite restaurant. Foods you eat. Your toothbrush. Your..mother?
He has ones of you as you showered. How could you have not heard him? It doesn’t matter. He has you now. Right where he wants you.
𐙚
You hadn’t realised, hadn’t noticed him. Was too oblivious of it all. But whether you liked it or not this ignition of the love he’s yet to share with you had begun the moment you two met.
It was dead into winter. January 13th. The street in winter’s cold grip, cars reduced to snowy humps, couples huddled tightly together. Traffic lights covered in snow, changing colours every few minutes. You could see every breath that passed through your nose.
Dressed in a neat dark brown trench coat with black wooly gloves, a winter hat and winter boots, you were headed to your favourite coffee shop on this fine afternoon, although the weather made it seem like it was nearing evening. You’re a regular customer, the staff know you and adore your support. They’ve even got your order memorised.
Slowly treading down the snow covered street, your head down mesmerised in the way the snow swallows your boot.
You’re nearing the shop as you face head first into a..wall? No, a man. A man with a wall-like body it seems. How are they so sturdy you wonder.
With a sorrowful look on your face, you slowly look up to see a beige coloured turtleneck wrapped in a brown blazer, you make out to be, that’s also covered by a blue trench coat. Then further to now his face.
Sculpted. The first word that popped in your head. The only thought in your brain.
He was beautiful, that you had noticed. His broad frame, ever so bigger than yours. He towered over you. Short blonde hair groomed perfectly into the right place. Wind slightly blowing it out of place. Glasses framed perfectly over the bridge of his sharp nose.
A cold breath passed your mouth, starstruck, staring directly into his deep brown eyes. Your eyes widen just a little. He hadn’t looked away from you either.
You had wanted to think your graceful bumping into him was a reward of your good nature. He was so insanely good looking there’s no way this wasn’t a gift planted specifically for you. It had to be.
“O-oh m’sorry, I didn’t see you there-” Nervously, you finally manage to get out the words after ogling him.
“It’s no problem love, my mistake.” The words gently glided out of him. His deep baritone voice caught you off guard. You didn’t expect it to sound so pleasant. He speaks in such a way that has your body stuck in place, forced to listen to that rich low vibration, forever if you could. You want to.
You’re still looking at him as you softly smile and mouth a small ‘bye’ with a tiny wave. You quickly walk around him to the door of the coffee shop.
Just as you're entering the shop you don’t see how deeply he’s watching you. Brown eyes fixed on your frame, raking up and down your body. Fuck you’re gorgeous. He thinks. Nanami brings his hand to cover the rising blush on his cheeks. Veins bulging out his large hands.
He adjusts his glasses and decides to enter the coffee shop, maybe talk to you again. Get to know you, your favourite colour, likes and dislikes, what you sound like around his cock-
Not yet.
Too early. He needs you wanting him first. And that’s exactly what he plans to do.
Nanami sees you at a booth alone, sipping away slowly at your drink. He walks over to the till, leans over slightly, elbow on the till table.
“May I have exactly what she has?” He points discreetly in your direction. The barista nods and prepares his drink the same exact way they had yours.
All the while you’ve got your wired headphones plugged into your phone and you're watching a random YouTube video that came across your feed. You’re fully engrossed in the video that you don’t see a familiar frame sit directly opposite you.
You look up quickly when you do realise.
Perfect posture, hands seated patiently at his lap.
“Sorry to bother you again but I just..” he looks down nervously, cheeks spotting a light pink.
“..thought I should let you know, you’re beautiful,” he was so alluring. The same man you bumped into telling you that you’re beautiful.
The adjective echoed over in your ears again and again.
You’re beautiful
Beautiful
Were his eyes sparkling..nah.
Definitely just your imagination.
You could barely even utter a ‘thank you’ with how quickly your heart began to beat. Cheeks deepening in colour.
“Is it alright if I could have your number? Ignore me if I’m being a bother.”
You gave him your number. Found out his name.
Nanami Kento.
𐙚
The two of you had grown friendlier over the weeks. Constantly talking over the phone, through text, FaceTime. You went on fun dates together. The cinema, parks, long drives.
He had quickly grown obsessed with you. Just like that. Everything about you. Your hair, voice, your skin, the way it shone differently in the sun. The small dimple that appears on your left cheek when you smile with your whole face. That must’ve been the trigger.
It should be illegal to look the way you look. That small crinkle in your eye when you smile, the scrunch in your brow when you pout. It was killing him. He couldn’t take it.
It was difficult hiding his bulge every time you both met up. You just smelled so good. He wanted to bury his face into your neck and fuck you so right. Vanilla scent wafting through the air every time you walked aside him. He couldn’t take it.
𐙚
He had invited you over to dinner at his place. A date. You suggested. Perfect.
He was thrilled. After weeks of waiting for you to enter his most vulnerable space you’re finally here. This must mean something. You want him as much as he wants you, he concludes.
You’re at his door step there’s well kept plants of different sizes placed neatly at the sides. He’s a perfectionist you think and ring the bell once.
He lives in a fairly large house. You knew he makes a decent amount from when he had told you his job occupation.
On the other side there’s him, patiently waiting for which ring he’ll open the door on. First? No, that's too eager. Third? No, you’ll get the idea he’s not ready. Second.
A second time you ring and he’s immediately opening the door to you.
You’re in this outfit, hair out and loose, your feet adorned in small black and white heels. He’s fucked. You look incredible. He might just die happily seeing you here. All dressed up for him. Just for him. He blushes at the thought.
He’s dressed in a black turtleneck with black slacks and black santoni shoes. The clothes hugging his bulky frame. He was so big you felt hot looking at him.
You’re smiling up at him, vibrantly.
“Hi Ken!” You wave up at him excitedly.
He looks down at you with a soft smile and stands to the side to let you in.
He’s throbs in his boxers. Fuck. His name on your lips. It sounded so right. He had to have you.
Soon. Be patient.
“Hi.” He’s breathless. Small smile on his lips. Can’t hide his excitement.
“What are we having for dinner?” You ask him, head tilted slightly looking up at him, lashes fluttering.
You had to be doing this on purpose.
𐙚
Nanami made you both chicken Alfredo. The best you’ve ever had. Of course he’s a good cook.
“Mm~ Ken this is so good, what are you not good at,” you say, mouth full of food.
He’s just staring at you in awe. There’s some food stained on the side of your lips. The urge to clean you, taste it from you, fights him.
He chuckles, a bit taken aback by your compliment. You both finish your meal while talking about your week and future plans together.
He reaches over to your lips, gentle fingers rubbing away at the mess. You feel heat pool down at your lower belly. You can’t take your eyes off of him.
“You just had a little something on your face,” he says all shy. Eyes darting to you and away.
“Thanks Ken.”
𐙚
The time is now 11:37pm, you’ve both eaten around five hours ago. You’re in his living room, a fairly large space with a television hanging on the cream walls.
You both have watched about 2 movies and there’s a current one playing. Soft sunset hues from the lamps around the room keep you company. You’re sitting very close to Nanami on his brown couch.
His hand has somehow found its way to your thigh. Instinct. He needs to touch you. His body wants it. The taste of his skin on yours.
It feels right on your thigh you don’t know why. You don’t bother questioning it.
You’re ever so often turning to look at him. You always find him already looking your way. A small smile on his face. Your eyes, constantly gravitating to the smile lines on his face. You want to touch it. Poke his cheeks. Grab at the fat of his cheeks. Play with him a bit.
He watches your eyes roam around his face, he’s inching slowly closer to you. His eyes roaming and stopping at your lips.
Your faces are both so close. He could feel your breath fanning his face. Your eyes are darting from his lips to his eyes. Holding his stare. Permission.
She’s asking me. His mind tells him.
He moves closer as you slowly slip closer to him, eyes fluttering shut.
Your lips slotted together. A perfect momentum. You both had kissed as if time had slowed just for this moment, everything else fading into background noise. You lead the kiss, head tilted to the left, your arms coming round his neck, hand scratching softly where his neck meets his hair. A small groan pushes past his lips. He could barely fight it. You moaned at the sound. It was so rugged, manly you needed more. His hands softly holding the side of your face.
Nanami’s tongue grazed over the bottom of your lip. Asking for your permission as you silently asked for his earlier.
You welcomed him into your mouth with eagerness. His tongue easily found yours, gliding, licking, sucking. You let out a small whimper.
“Fuck.” He growled into the kiss. He feels a bit of pre leak out of him. You’re ruining him.
His hands found the outer sides of your thigh caressing, going lower to the bottom of your thigh. He picked you up and put you on his lap. You were grinding your hips unhurriedly over his bulge. You had noticed it from earlier and have been struggling not to look at it the entire time. He was just as turned on as you.
This kiss was getting more intense. Your breath hesitating. Nanami’s hands found your hips and ground you into him harder. Your clit feeling the friction of your panties on his clothed now bigger looking bulge. A moan escapes you before you could even register it.
“You sound so beautiful kiss, am I expecting to kiss hear more of these noises?” He hums playfully in between kisses. He pulls back slightly, a stupid attractive grin on his face. You smile in response automatically. So responsive to him.
“Depends if you can get them out of me Ken.”
“A challenge?” A slight brow raise.
You giggle. You’re too cute for your own good.
He picks you up with so much ease it takes your breath away and kisses you heatedly once more. Guiding your head with his large hands, keeping you where he wants. Your eyes closed in perfect concentration. Lips rubbing back and forth against each other. Tongue and teeth gnashing. His arms secure around your frame.
He’s taking you to his room.
You don’t even realise the moment you’ve entered his room, when he’s pushed you down on his bed. Still tangled in that breath taking kiss. You’re tugging his hair more aggressively now. Pulling him further down into you. His groaning becoming more frequent, it has you wetter by the second.
His fingers trace down your blouse, lips still connected. He’s fucking his tongue into your mouth. Can only imagine what his dick would do.
Slowly lifts your skirt to your hips. Fingers finding your underwear he grazes them near your mons. Your hips stutter at the contact, you’re gasping. You want him in you quickly, another small whimper leaving you. You’re still too focused on kissing him.
He brings his thick fingers to the top of your underwear, his hands in a clawed pose and starts dragging it slowly off of you till it pools and your ankle.
He quickly finds your aching pussy. Pulsing. Leaking all for him. He fights back a groan this time, his hands finding your clit, slowly circling the nub forcing another loud whimper out.
“Ken,” you mewl.
“I’m here.” He whispers into your mouth. Face contorted with pleasure. You’re so hot and wet he’s losing himself by the second.
“Just feel it for me yeah?”
He cuts off the kiss and stares at your pleasure struck face. Eyes closed, mouth agape letting small sounds pad through, cheeks dusted a deeper colour, lips slightly swollen. Too dumb and cute to even notice the rest of the room. He’s got you exactly where you need to be.
Nanami continues to circle your clit growing quicker the more noises you let out. You try to rush your hand to cover your mouth but he stops you. Catching your wrist and pining it above you.
“No baby, none of that.”
He’s blocking your sight. He’s the only thing you see at this moment.
He replaces his finger with his thumb as he slowly trails that same finger to your opening. Gently pressing into you, you gasp. Thick. Long. Curving upwards. Nothing about him is small, that sets you off again. Head tipped a bit back, eyes still closed. Toes curling at the sudden intrusion.
You’re whining now. You need him further, deeper. Everywhere.
“Shh love, I’ll give you what you need” he reassures you in that soft, patient, velvety voice of his kissing the corner of your mouth.
His finger inches deeper. Stretching. Curling in that spot of yours. There it is. Your back arching faintly off the bed. Head lolling to the side. Eyes still tightly shut. Your chest is heaving.
He teases the spot still watching your face checking to see where else sets you alight. He wants to be the only one capable of doing so.
No one else can have you after this. He won’t let anyone. You’ve welcomed him into you therefore you’re his. His to love, cherish, protect. You can’t leave. Not when he’s finally got you. Wrecked. Writhing just for him.
Your hips are lifted grinding into his hand following his movement inside you.
You’re nearly there, he can feel you fluttering around his fingers. Your body shaking lightly. Moans becoming more airy. You’re struggling around him.
His fingers get deeper now pistoning into you. Your arms clutch at the sheets below. Chanting his name, your breathless mouth hung.
“Kento~ Kento,” just a little more.
His thumb is angry on your clit. Rubbing, pushing it onto you. The first push of his thumb on your clit has you throbbing hungrily, the hunger coming from none other than your pussy. Fuck it’s too good. You need him. You need to-
“I know you want to gorgeous, I know you want to,” he’s egging you on. His face is kissing on your neck, going up and down along it. Licking, sucking, nearly biting. His own hips start to slowly grind into the air. He wants to be inside you so bad it hurts. Cock throbbing painfully at the thought.
You can’t follow his fingers properly now, too focused on the pleasure he’s giving you. You’re soo close now. You can feel it.
“Cumming~ c-cumming,” you whimper into the bedsheets, right cheek pressed deep in his covers. Face hot, brows tight. The whites of your eyes on display.
You’re clenching his fingers so hard his dick is twitching in his boxers. He can’t seem to get enough of you. The way you cum on his fingers, the faces you make. More. He needs more.
“L-let me use my mouth yeah?” Looking up at you, brown eyes glistening, boring into yours.
𐙚
He’s got you flat on the bed naked. Your clothes tossed somewhere around his room. You’re lost in pleasure. Head thrown back just taking everything he’s giving you. You still haven’t registered your surroundings. His mouth is just that good.
You're moaning, rolling your hips into his mouth. He’s got your legs over his beefy shoulders. Hands gripping the curve of your hip, grabbing the fat of your waist, stomach, your breasts. Hands roaming everywhere he could reach you. He wants all of you.
Only when his tongue grazes the opening of your pussy added with the three fingers he’s already got in there do your eyes widen in pleasure
and see…yourself staring back at you?
You’re everywhere. Just you.
You scream.
“The fuck?”
He lifts his head swiftly. Staring up at you. Quiet. Still in awe. Relieved maybe. You can finally see his burning desire for you. His love. His passion scattered around his room. His heart soars.
Your eyes are trained on the walls, your fingers shakily gesture to them etched with pictures of yourself in different clothes, sleeping, in the shower. On a night out. Grocery shopping. At your job. Your mother..
You’re clutching the sheets behind you now. Shaking slightly. He’s still quiet. Just watching. Waiting. You’re not moving. Equally watching and waiting.
You’re watching back at him. Heart jack hammering out your chest. Pussy still throbbing.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks in a low calm tone that scares you. Why did your pussy clench just now? He caught your breath hitching. Your body hesitating. Chest heaving.
A pregnant pause. He’s waiting. Unmoving at the end of his bed. Knees buried in it. He knows what you’ll eventually say. Even if he can’t have you now, which he will, there’ll always be another chance. Another perfect opportunity.
You bite your lip. Eyes lidded staring up into his.
You didn’t want him to stop even if you tried.
“Atta girl.”
𐙚
You can’t look at him. Not when his leaking raw cock is so deep in your pussy. Angled. Hitting directly at your spot it’s making your brain melt. It’s so big. Heavy. You felt the weight of it deep inside. Slightly bulging at your stomach.
Nanami stared at your lower belly. Eyes fixed on the imprint of his cock in your guts.
His breathing is rugged. Voice whiny.
“Come on.” He says, stretching out the ‘n’ sound. He sounds so pathetic. He’s grabbing your tits. Pebbling the nipple between his fingers. Bringing his face down sucking, slurping moaning at the feel of them in his mouth. You’re groaning loudly, unable to control the noises that leave you.
He’s pressing his hand down on your shoulder forcing you back into his cock. Hips slamming against each other.
Ugh he’s so deep you can feel him at your throat.
Your arms strung over your head, grabbing, pulling, pushing at anything you touch.
He’s all over you. His arms enveloping you in. Hands grating down your sweat filled back. Pressing your right thigh further up deepening the stretch of his cock. The other hand pulling your hips downward.
He’s pistoning his cock so good. The pleasure is overwhelming. Your breath stuttering, sight fading.
Plap plap plap
sounds filled the room. His heavy balls hitting your ass so good. His hefty weight pressing down onto you, hiking your legs further up. Knees to your chest. He’s got you in mating press. His face so close to yours. Breaths tangled together. He’s biting at your lips, kissing you. You’re barely keeping up.
You’re twisting your head to the left. He’s following you. You can’t breathe, he’s not giving you any room to.
“Noo~ Ngh f-fuck baby look at me.” He’s whining. Desperate. He needs your attention fully.
“Ngh”
You’re gone. Completely. You can’t speak. The feeling of his cock hitting all your places has you going insane. He’s rutting his hips into you. Harder now. He’s forced your eyes back. It’s all too much. There’s drool dangling out your mouth. You’re nearly there for the nth time tonight. There’s a white ring around the base of his cock, your cum, his pre gathered around him. It’s so wet. Filthy.
Your breathing’s hitched. You’re stuttering. Can’t even form coherent sentences. Just a string of
“Please,” or “can’t.”
A long pause. He’s just jutting his hips into yours staring down at your body. Face squinted, drooling almost.
“So be it,” he tells you. His voice growing colder, lower.
That can’t be good.
He’s grabbing your cheeks, smushing it in his hand. You’re wrenching at his wrist whining, pushing away at his massive hand. It’s impossible, you’re too weak. Succumbed to pleasure. You can’t think properly, can only just feel.
Tears further slipping down your face, your sight worsening. It’s too blurry.
He’s forcing you to look at him since he has to do everything for you. He loves it. He wants you to rely on him. He wants it to only be him. To be the only person to exist in your world. No distractions. He’s smiling down at your cute face. Watching you twist, turn fight against him. It’s all too hot.
“I- I think..ngh,” you can’t even get the words out.
You’re close. He knows. He can feel all of you. He knows your body more than he knows himself. Knows everything about you. He’s known for years. But only decided weeks ago it was the right moment to meet you. It had to be perfect just for you. No mistake. He needed you to need him. Even if it meant waiting years.
Only now can he really express his undying love for you. You have to accept him back. It’s only the right thing to do.
He’s licking down your drenched cheeks. Salty but sweet. He thinks. He’s disgustingly obsessed with you. You can’t help that you’re into it.
Before your brain can even catch up you’re convulsing under him. Eyes crossing. Whimpering. Voice high pitched. You’re numb. Your back bludgeoned in an ugly arch he thinks is the sexiest thing in the world. This image he’s created of you,
‘The only thing worth living.’ He thinks, starstruck. Mouth slightly agape. Lips curved narrowly upward. You’re his prize, his life force. He simply cannot get enough of you. You’ve made him this way.
Your tears streaming now staining the sheet’s below, the sides of your face. You’re groaning, fingers clawing at his arm still holding down your face.
“It’s too m-much,” your breathing is fucked. Chest thrusting up and down violently.
Nanami brings your legs over his left shoulder, left arm firm over your thighs, his other is caging you, slotted near your head, leaning down closer to you while he pulls you back against him. It’s deeper like this. Too fucking deep. You’re folded to the right lying there pathetically on his bed. He lifts your left leg and brings it to his mouth, planting a wet kiss by your ankle. You’re peering up at him in awe, eyes drowsy. He’s nearly got you. Your brain needs to fully submit to him.
His cock is somehow deeper this way. Your eyes grow wide.
Body too sensitive from your very recent orgasm. You can’t take it, you'll die.
“You’re not gonna die my love, I won’t let you.” He’s giggling at you. You have such a way with words.
Did you say that out loud? You’re too far gone to even know.
He leans over so his blonde pubes brush against yours, your clit catching the hairs. The contact has your thighs shaking again.
“Ouh f-fhuck,” you groan, mouth open, teeth shut. Eyes half lidded, your head is tipped. Forcing down the sheets. You don’t know what to grab. You can feel him everywhere. It’s all too much.
He’s so big. Fat red tip pushing up near your cervix. Fucking deep into you. Your brain is mush, tongue loling out.
You’re close again. So very sensitive, he notices. All for him.
“You’re c-crying..” thrust “ngh..so much, that good yeah?” He’s taunting you. Thrust after thrust, you’re wondering when it’s gonna end.
You can barely hear him now. Your hips moving on their own. He’s grinding his cock deep, his hips flushed against yours grinding down your clit. White hot. Blinding. Suffocating you.
Your body is betraying you. Legs jerking. Eyes into your skull. You’re trying to push him away. He won’t let you. You’re supposed to need him.
“O-oh my g-go-”
“P-please I’m done, c-can’t,” you manage, sobbing as he rode your high.
Synopsis: you don’t know he’s got a big crush on you, and he finds out you’re quite inexperienced so he offers to help you gain some.
Fanart by @/youKa.i on insta/tiktok
I hope you enjoy! -> on ao3 as well!!
Moodboard here (ignore this if you want)
Wc: 7.4k
Cw: Non canon au. Office au. No physical description of y/n other than clothes and hair (just a brief mention). Short plot. teaching you to kiss. Thumb sucking. Talking you through it. Pubic hairs. Virgin!reader. Introvert!Toji. Soft dom!Toji. Dacryphilia. Once again you’ve got a deep dish. Spooning. Prone bone. Headlocks. Make outs. Multiple orgasms. Dry humping. Thigh riding. Pussy eating. Fingering. Clit play. Creampie. Unprotected. Big dick!Toji. Size kink. Size difference. Breath play. Cervix fucking. Squirting. Second hand embarrassment (very brief). He wears glasses.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
It’s been three dreadful years since you got this job. Same boring routine. Your alarm, panging heavily. Screeching. 05:37. An oddly specific time but nonetheless. Your front flat on the bed. Head buried in the satin pillow. An arm underneath it. Your eyes groggy, crust filled, you raise one arm above your laying body and smack the sounding thing, hard. It stops.
You need exactly twenty three minutes to yourself in the morning before you begin your day. Twenty three minutes of silence. You turn over. Back now against the ruffled sheets.
Staring at the ceiling above you. Your curtains slightly ajar, a distant car engine coming to life. The headlights, illuminating. Small patterns of light reflect onto your ceiling. Various shapes.
Lifting a hand into the air slowly, you’re tracing the patterns you see. Index finger pointed, swirling circles, rectangles. A sharp edge, you trace out. Your arm, stretching further away from you.
05:43
You glance at the alarm clock. Bright red font staring back at you. You restlessly bring your arm back down, it lands in a small plop. You close your eyes briefly, a heavy sigh leaving your lips.
You grab your phone by your bedside. Tapping the screen, 05:45. You scroll through your socials, emails and skim read your schedule on your calendar.
Minutes go by as the time finally reads 06:00. You reluctantly sit up, legs hanging off the edge of the mattress. Hands planted on either side of it, you push yourself up with a small grunt. You enter your bathroom, marble dark green tiled walls and a few small plant pots decorated the room.
A red toothbrush in a white mug next to your small sink. You brush your teeth and shower all under thirty minutes. You find a professional business-casual outfit in your closet. A yellow cashmere sweater, paired with indigo straight legged jeans and red bowl of repettos. You grab your wired headphones and your bag, keys already in hand, and head out. A soft tune playing in your ears.
You check your phone, April 5th. 06:50. The weather’s less cold today. The sun rising, a hue of golden skulked behind chalky clouds. A warm easy breeze brushing your cheeks.
Fourteen minutes.
You needed to get the train at exactly four minutes past seven in the morning.
You make it to the station with four minutes to spear. You love walking, such an easy way to get your blood flowing.
The station’s platform buzzed with restless hums of commuters. Swarmed with people. Fatigued faces, sagged shoulders. A heaviness in the air. Yet you were tuned out, bouncing quietly to the rhythm in your ear. You didn’t let the heaviness get to you. You already know you have a long day ahead of you. Can’t do anything about it.
One silver carriage after another rolls in. Tires screeching every few seconds. It halts. The doors slowly opening, a horde of people rushing out, whilst people barge past others trying to rush in, you included. It’s tightly packed. Stuffy air. Poor air conditioning. Blocked in every direction. Bags brushing against people’s backs. Bumping at every jolt of the train. The train jerks at a curve, sending you swaying. Your body failing to catch up with the sudden movement. Your body bends, face pressing up into someone’s swole chest. The train lurches again, he catches you. Beefy arms locking around your waist.
“I’m soo sorry. The train— I didn’t mean to.” You plead. Your eyes haven’t reached his yet, too embarrassed to look.
“You okay?” A deep rumble.
Baritone. Throaty.
You finally look up at him nervously, eyes widening slightly.
He’s handsome. Very handsome. Nearly a whole foot taller than you. His neck tilted downward, fully focused on you. Black hair, a messy wolf cut, almost blue in the train light, frame his eyes. They’re sharp, you notice. Grey with hints of green as they stared back into yours. Intense. Glasses framed perfectly on his nose. Black briefcase over a shoulder. A white t-shirt underneath a navy blue sweat, folded at the midpoint of his forearm, exposing angry veins following up to his massive hands. He could kill me in one punch, you think.
Dark grey slacks, your eyes trailing further down to his black oxford patent shoes.
His arm is still caged at your waist, holding you upright. Wait. You’ve seen him before. Where? At the park? Wait no. This is your coworker. What’s his name again?
T…to…Zen…
You’re trying to remember, still staring at him, not answering.
“It’s Toji. We’re colleagues."
Ah Toji. That’s it.
“O—oh yeah. I totally remembered.” A slight forced laugh leaving you.
The train bumps again. You accidentally grab at his bicep. Meaty. Thick bicep. He’s so big you think. You’d never noticed Toji. At all actually. But he’s noticed you.
“Sorry again.” You look down, uncomfortable.
“Hold onto me yeah?” Velvety voice. He’s pulling you tighter against him. Your chest flushed against his rigid one. Fuck, how is he so big?
You give a tiny nod, eyes focused on the ground. He grunts in response. Odd. Paying no mind to it, you pull out your phone, needing any distraction. Reviewing your calendar. A full busy day, your phone reads. With it all ending by 6pm. You sigh mentally. You click a few tasks, scrolling on your phone checking the details.
‘Type up a project, send it off to your boss by the end of the day.’ Emails upon emails flooding yours. Constantly responding to them. Lunch break. The same restaurant. Same sandwich. Lettuce, cheese, chicken breast.
All the while, there’s Toji. Fighting your scent. He’s staring at the top of your head. Thoughts overpowering him. The smell of your perfume, so enticing, so inviting. Screaming in his nose. Vanilla with a hint of strawberry. He gives in and breathes you in slow. Quiet. Face nearly pressing into your head. Eyes closing. A flush of pink rushing to his cheeks. A bulge forming slightly in his trousers. Shiiit.
You’re still holding onto his bicep. It felt like the muscle was bursting out. He dwarfed you. His large body shielding, hiding you from everyone else. You couldn’t see over his shoulder even if you tried.
The train still moving, tired groans of its wheels are heard every few minutes.
-
The train slowed with a long screech. Its wheels grinding against the rails. It stops. The doors opened with a sluggish spread. People barging past each other trying to get out. You’re unfocused, not really there. Toji’s large arms guiding you out. Your chest to his front, your feet backing away. His forward. Both stumbling out. He’s holding you tight, the warmth radiating off of him. He’s so close. His musky, sandalwood perfume digging in your nose. You can’t help but inhale.
You both make it out onto the platform. Still clutched onto each other. Your eyes reach his, he’s already looking.
“Thank you Toji.” Face flushing in a deeper colour, he’s making you so shy.
His heart stutters. A small pink on the surface of his face. He swallows the lump in his throat before answering.
“‘S no problem.”
The two of you exit the station in silence. Both side by side, he’s slowing his steps matching your pace. Hands in his pockets. Grounded, confident strides of his long legs next to yours. A heavy walk. Small tilts of his hips from every step.
-
Eventually you make it to the office doors.
Both heavily greeted by your lively boss.
“Ahh! It’s nice to see you two come in together.” Strangely bubbly. Especially with how early it is in the morning. Just twenty minutes after seven. Messy glasses, hair in flying strands. A bright red cardigan with a white shirt underneath. Grey pants and black dr martens.
She reminds you of your old art teacher from college.
You give her a small smile anyway, nodding.
“Why specifically.. us two?” You ask all confused.
Your boss glances at Toji, wiggling her brows. You narrow your eyes at her, then between the two. You pause at Toji, nervously staring at him. He’s glaring at your boss. A minute of silence follows. Just eyes fighting over.
Toji quickly barges past you both, his face flushed red. You couldn’t see it though. Only noticed the growing red at the back of his neck. He reaches a hand up to cover it as he scurries away.
“Uh?”
“Alrighty!” Your boss’s sing songy voice cutting you off.
“I’ve got a bunch of stuff for you to do today. I know you can get it allll done before the end of today! Aaand I’ll reward you if you do.” Eyes beaming at yours. She’s paused in a teeth open smile. Hands clasped together. Interlocked. You don’t know why that scares you a bit, but it does.
You crack a smile again, one eye twitching.
-
Lunch time. Finally. You’ve got a headache.
You’re headed to your easy access restaurant. Reciting your order in your head.
The weather’s quite nice today. Soft kisses of a warm breeze wafting through the air land on your cheeks. It’s a two minute walk from the office.
You’ve got your sandwich in a small brown bag, you’re holding it up with two hands. It’s your favourite sandwich, so you hold it with much care. Pacing, making your way back to the office staff room.
You reach the office doors, tapping your lanyard at the speed gates. A light jog now, you’re heading down to the staff room, excited to quench your hunger.
Reaching the door to the staff room, you stretch your arm out aiming for the handle before the door opens and you meet a larger, sturdier body. Same blue sweater, same toned forearms. You look up, eyes beaming.
“Toji!” A soft smile tugging at your lips as you stare.
He grunts in response, nodding his head a little. Hands coming up to push at the bridge of his glasses. Adjusting the already neatly placed thing on his face. Needing to ground himself in your presence. You make him so nervous you don’t even know it.
He steps aside letting you in. You give him a playful wink as thanks. A rush of heat gathers at his cheeks. Fuck. You don’t know how much he likes you. You’ve just got this easiness to you. So soft. Sweet.
You enter the room, seeing a close work friend sitting at one of the tables. You settle down into a chair next to her, chatting your day away.
-
The end of your shift is approaching. You’ve never been happier. You’re sitting at your desk typing away at the keyboard.
“My lovely staff!” Your boss enters the office room in that annoyingly warm sing songy voice.
“Since you’ve all been such wonderful people, I’m rewarding you all! Office dinner!” She shrieks, her voice getting pitchier at every word. You feel a throb at your ear drums. Covering your ears with both hands you’re smiling at her anxiously. There’s one thing you still weren’t used to in all your three years of being here. Your boss’s unpredictable nature.
“An officer dinner sounds nice.”
You hear murmurs across the room, some eager, some anxious, you being one of them.
-
The long awaited office dinner. You’re seated beside your close friend around a circular table, giggling at something she’s said. Other staff gathered around. You can’t really register it though you’ve had a few drinks and they’re starting to take effect. You’re swaying side to side, a hearty smile etched on your face. You’re staring at your friend so lovingly. You love friendships. There’s something much deeper about friendships than anything else.
You hear another one of your colleagues talk about their sexual history. The alcohol punching it out of them. With another tipsy giggle, you lean in towards your friend, ushering her closer with a beckon of your hand. A nearly empty glass of wine in the other.
You whisper in her ear. Giggling.
“You know I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
You rise back up, staring with a drunken smile. It’s as if she’s forced into sobriety when she hears you. Face contorting into something that looks like surprise. Before she responds, she notices a certain someone. How they’ve been struggling to keep their eyes off of you. Dull green ones.
Instead, she grabs a spoon and taps in against her empty glass, a chime following. The room has her attention.
“Who wants a round of spin the bottle?” She suggests. A smirk playing on her lips.
“We’re too old for—”
“Yes! Sounds perfect.” Your boss cuts in. Her word being final.
Your boss grabs an empty beer bottle, facing it flat on the table and spins.
It unexpectedly lands on a certain dark haired male. That so happens to have a very sizeable frame.
“Mr Zenin!” She gleams. There’s a panicked look on his face, you chuckle to yourself quietly. Seems like he’s also not used to her antics.
“Aaaand…”
Spinning the bottle again. Your boss is seated near you, hands clasped together. Almost as if she knows who it’s landing on. Like she’s orchestrated something. It spins for a good long twenty seconds before landing perfectly in your direction. What a coincidence.
She yells your name excitedly. And you’re stunned in your seat. Frozen. You look to your friend whispering a quick
“What do I do?”
Before you glance over at Toji’s face and he’s… red. Very red. You look slightly concerned. Brows squinted. Mouthing a
‘You ok?’
He just nods quickly. Eyes leaving yours briefly, dancing around the room.
“Well?” Your boss is still giving that creepy wide smile.
“Well what..” you ask wearily. Clutching at the hem of your shirt.
“Well, head on out to an empty room! Both of ya.” She gestures her hands to the door, clapping, and Toji’s already up on his feet. This is the quickest you’ve ever seen him move. Practically speed walking to the door, exiting first. Small snickers are heard throughout the room.
“He’s so obvious.”
You just glance over everyone, still confused. With one final glance at your boss, you follow along. Leaving the room.
You find Toji against a nearby wall. Hands digging in his pockets. Shifting from one foot to the other.
“Toji?” You call out. His face turned over to you. Heart beating out his chest. Can she hear it? He wonders. He’s waited for such an opportunity like this, trying so hard not to fuck it up.
“..should we find a room?” His voice is so quiet. It’s as if he’s making an effort to look less intimidating than he already does. Why would you be scared though? He’s so nice. If looks could kill though.
“Yeah.” A reassuring smile shaping on your lips.
The both of you find an empty room, far away from your main building. No person nearby. No noise. Just extreme quietness.
You feel the alcohol setting in even more now. A slight dizziness forming. Possibly for him too, he’s had a few shots of whisky.
Your mind drifts back to what you said a few minutes ago.
‘Never kissed anyone before’
Toji seems like an understanding person under all that scruff. He could probably give you advice. He’s attractive. Very evidently. Your eyes rake over him. A slow once-over. Settling on his biceps for a second longer. God they’re so big. He’s so big. He probably has experience, you conclude. Definitely. He could help you. You muster up the courage and blurt it out.
“Toji! You know..” you pause, eyes looking at the ground before meeting his again. “I’ve never kissed anyone before… or done— you know what nevermind.” A huge wave of second hand embarrassment erupting. Hearing it out loud. Again. It sounds worse than it did earlier. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. What possessed you to say that you think. Mentally slapping yourself a good few times. Eyes scrunching closed in disgust. Crows feet forming at how hard you’re pressing your lids together.
It’s as if the gates of heaven had opened and invited Toji Zenin directly. As vip. He sucks in a breath you don’t notice. Heart stuttering in his firm chest.
You’re looking away, all shy. Turning around full so your back is facing him now. You wish you could erase this memory, wipe it clean off the face of earth.
I should’ve never drank— Oh god, what if he tells everyone— you’re brain spiralling.
You hear heavy thuds, he’s slowly approaching you. Close enough to your back that you feel his warmth. Only slightly, but giving you room to object.
“Would you like me to… teach you?” He asks you, voice deeper than it usually is.
You spin back around shocked that he’s not disgusted by your admission. A small smile forming on your lips in genuine delight, you look up at him and nod twice. The alcohol fully in control of you both now. Hazey eyes, shining at him. He raises a hand up to your face. Slowly. Giving you time to say otherwise. You don’t reject it. He places a thumb at your chin, rubbing softly. Your jaw too. Tilting your gaze at him. Caressing you.
Before dipping his head low, huge body caging yours. He parts his lips slightly. His grey eyes half lidded. Intensely staring into your glazed ones.
His other hand finds your face. Propping up your head in both big hands, making you look so much smaller, he always did, he steps closer. Contracted biceps bulging in his shirt. Fingers travelling up your face, thumbs at the apples of your cheek.
“Open your mouth a bit…” he whispers, lowering a thumb, glazing over your glossy bottom lip.
“Yeah jus’ like that.”
Fuck he sounds so hot right now. Is it the alcohol? It’s definitely the alcohol.
You’re staring up at him. Blinking slow. Eyes all doey.
He pushes his thumb in. Delicately. Pushing at your wet muscle. Circling. His own tongue stutters out a little, in awe. Mimicking almost, as if he can’t fathom that you’re actually letting him put his thumb in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and suck.
Slurp.
Your eyes close, shutting softly.
“Mnh.” That does it.
He removes his thumb, resting it on your bottom lip. Stares at the glistening thing. His eyes, heavy. He inches his face closer. His warm breath wafting over your face. Your mouth.
A gentle, chaste roll of his lips on yours. Slow. Open mouthed.
Chu.
Eyes closing at the feel. He pulls away just a bit. Low eyes boring into you. He’s still close enough that you’re breathing his air. You’re dazed. Panting unhurried deep breaths. Every exhale fanning his lips. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip slowly. Nearly touching yours. His eyes gloss over your wet mouth.
He leans in again. Eyes closing. Pulling your lips against his. Still unrushed. Angling closer. Noses brushing at every twist of his head. Deepening this kiss. His tongue wetting your lower lip. Asking. Pleading.
“Let me in.” Heavy pants in between kisses.
You open your mouth with a tiny moan, welcoming, enveloping his thick tongue. He’s bigger everywhere. So much bigger than you. You love it. He’s rolling his tongue against yours now, tracing the crevices of your mouth. Swallowing you. Tongues tangled. Moaning into you.
“Mmph!” Sultry groans leaving his mouth. Trapping your lower lip between his teeth. Sucking softly.
“Hn!”
You never knew kissing could be like this. Feel like this. You feel a pool of warmth settle at your lower belly. Butterflies. You push into him further. Tongues flat against each other. Sucking. Teeth clashing.
You’re grinding against each other now. His hands, wandering down your back, gripping your ass.
Your hips give an experimental thrust. An elongated roll. Holding it for an extra second. Mid kiss, you feel something rigid. Taut. Quite long too. You pull away just a little.
A gasp leaves you. You’re not too sure if it's pleasure or shock. Definitely both. You glance down at the hard thing. It looks painful, almost. Huge dent protruding at his lower clothes. A hefty thing he is. Couldn’t possibly be a normal size. You’re zoned out at the sight of him, he nudges a meaty thigh between your legs. Pulling your lower body closer to his. Veiny hands fixed at your hips. Rolling your clothed pussy against the solid muscle, he flexes.
“Unh!”
You’re moaning into his mouth. Hot breaths mixing. Eyes dilated. Fluttering.
“T—Toji!” You tried to pull away, voice trembling.
“Wanna stop?” He whispers with a shaky exhale. Low grey eyes piercing yours.
He hasn’t stopped moving you on his body. Gyrating hips in firm hands. You attempt to respond. But you whimper instead. He takes that as your answer. Entranced at how good it feels on his thigh. Throbbing pulses of your pussy every few beats. You’re aching. Craving more. Is this a normal thing that happens during sex? You don’t know. But you love it.
“I’m gonna pick you up okay?”
You give a few rushed nods, flushed face, parted wet lips brushing his.
Lifting you easily with one of his massive arms, he locks your legs around his toned waist. Flexed arms firm around your body. Caging you. Pulling you in so your clothed pussy’s face first against his bulge.
He’s grinding you down harder. Longer. Your clit catching at the large bump. He’s moving into you. Slow rolls of his.
“Angh!” Eyes shut. Lips caught in your teeth. They’re trembling. Poor attempts of you stifling your sounds. You hide your face into the crook of his neck.
“That good huh?” His voice all rugged. He’s feeling this as much as you. Hot breaths fanning your ear. You can’t reply.
You’re clutching at his tricep. Shoulders, his neck. A deep feeling settling in your lower belly. A build up. It's tight. Severe almost.
“You gotta say it.”
“Toj— hn! I don’t angh! Something’s—”
A few more rolls of your clothed pussy on him and you’re shuddering. Thighs shaking vigorously, eyes spinning. A silent cry leaving you. You’re cumming, hard. Nails gnawing at his shirt.
“F—fuckk!” Heavy heaves of your breath against his flushed neck.
“Breathe… breathe for me..that’s it.”
Beats pass. He helps you down from your high. You look ruined. Face stained in aftershocks of pleasure. You’re so fucking beautiful he’s barely holding on.
“I didn’t think it could be like that.” You breathlessly say. Staring at him.
“There’s still a lot more to learn…” His eyes dance around you before continuing.
“Let me take you home?”
-
Stumbling into your apartment, you’re pressed tightly against each other. Lips in a tangle of wet opened mouth kisses, your hands scratching at his back, forcing him impossibly closer to you. His face pinked in pleasure, harsh breaths strangling out airing your face.
Your apartment keys tumbling out your hands in a single swift motion, clattering against the floor. He’s all over you. Broad hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. Hoisting the thing above, now off of you. Your arms coming up with his before locking around his neck. Lace black bra on full display. His hungry gaze drifted to them, lingering. The curve of your breasts. The fullness. The way your nipples poked through the fabric. Awe didn’t begin to cover the way he ogled at your tits. The way he looked at them was deeper, almost reverent.
Obsessive.
You’ve both found the nearest wall, your sweat filled back pressing into it. Lifting ever so often with how your chest chases after him. He brings a hand to one of them, squeezing just right. Enough to cause pressure, but not enough to elicit pain from you. Can’t do that. He wouldn’t dream of it. You’re so precious to him, so perfect. Can’t ruin you just yet. He claws at your top pulling down in one swift tug. Tits spilling out in a perfect motion, as though flowers were breaking through their petals. You bloomed. He’s quick to grab hold of one of them, large hands swallowing it whole. The raw feeling now. You’re so warm. So pliable in his hands. He gives another experimental knead. Playing with you. Testing it.
Your pebbled nipple, glossing over his palm. You can’t fight the sound that leaves you. A soft mewl.
“Hnntoji!”
Back arching into it, needing more. Eyes unfocusing, you head slightly lulled back. A soft thud on the wall.
“Eyes on me.”
His free hand grips the back of your neck, pulling your face flush against his. Lips meeting in a hurried passionate kiss. Tongues entwining. Wet sounds of your lips filled the void.
“Mnnchu— Toji..I want more.”
“Yeah you want more?” He says in an almost whisper. Hot breath ghosting over your lips. You’re nodding pathetically, he can’t help but find it adorable. He snickers a bit.
“Tell me hm? Tell me sweet girl.” Eager eyes searching yours.
“I.. I need your fingers.” The words leave your lips so quietly, like a fragile thread of sound, barely audible. He catches them anyway. So focused on your every move. Watching your wet lips, a sensual glint in his eyes.
“Need to hear you baby.” He teases, a small smirk fighting his lips. You’re throbbing at the nicknames. Sounding so easy off his tongue.
“Your fingers… ‘need them.” Your eyes snap close in shame, a silent surrender. Cheeks deepened in colour, prominent. Lips quivering in small unnoticed waves.
“Yeah? Where d’ya want me?” Another taunt.
“..Inside.” You hesitate. An eye peeking open at him. Waiting. Hoping he doesn’t tease you some more.
“Hnnfuck yeah ya do.” With a groan, he brings his hands further down your body. Hurried tugs of your jeans and you’re left in your underpants only. Matching black with your bra, beautiful lace patterns on the top. His greedy eyes peer down at them. Sucking in a slow breath, his fingers tremble over them. As if he’s too scared to go any further. He’s not scared though. Far from it. He trails his index and middle down your shuddering stomach, passing your belly button, down to the top of your panties. Slowly hooking them into it, he’s dragging it down, past your sweaty thighs until it falls on its own.
A hand by the bottom of your thighs, he’s trailing it up, brushing against it. You’re waiting with a bated breath. Finally reaching your mound. Softly trimmed hairs sweep against his rigid fingers. He bites back a groan. You’re just there, eyes blown, helplessly waiting for him to keep going.
He has to fight his eyes away from your pussy.
“Gonna show me where your room is?” Haggard voice. So clearly affected by you.
“Y—yeah.”
He hauls you up into him, bulging biceps, your legs wrapped around his trimmed waist, arms around his neck, your face buried into it. Heavy thuds on the ground, he’s walking slowly. Almost too slow. Certain, assured that he’s going to have you. No arguments. Just measured steps as you lift your face off of him just a tad, timidly pointing to where your room is. He gives a small pat on your ass as thanks. It ripples under his massive hand.
Toji finds your bed, lowers you onto it so delicately as if you were something so fragile. His knees digging into the sheets. Shoes off. Still fully clothed while you lay bare for him. Large hands cradling your face, stroking softly. The look he’s giving you, so loving. Blushing cheeks, slightly ajar mouth. Hot puffs of air leaving every exhale. You’re giving him an equal stare. Dazed. Scared almost. Needy. His knuckles, brushing your heated cheeks. He felt the warmth. Knows how much you want this, just as bad as he does.
He’s leisurely taking his time with you. Running his hands from your cheeks to your neck. He lingers there. Giving you a soft squeeze, testing your limits. You don’t fight back. Can’t fight back.
The orgasm you had earlier, still fogging your brain. His thumb brushes the front of your neck before he continues down. To the valley between your breasts, your belly, to your lower belly. He points an index below your belly button still touching your soft skin.
“Gonna be in there soon.” He whispers. His voice, so quiet it sounds like awe. You just stare at him, a bit confused. Head tilting a little. Slightly squinted brows. Then your eyes follow down to where his finger touches you. Blinking softly. He chuckles at your unfocused gaze. You don’t understand. Not yet.
He continues drifting his fingers down, meeting your hairs. Your hips stutter only just a bit. He marvels at the movement. So sensitive. He brings his other hand down, pushing your thighs away from each other. Revealing a soaked you. Glistening pussy on display, your clit fairly protruding out, throbbing under his devoted eyes.
“Fuck me..” He murmurs. Breath hitching at the sight of you, all wet, all for him. You try to hide from him. Head turning to the side, digging into your pillow, face tucked into your elbows. You can’t see him now. He doesn’t mind.
Toji lowers his face, lining his mouth to your pussy. Deep heavy breaths escaping his lips, fanning your clit.
“Angh!” You jolt your hips. Pressing your face closer into your elbow. He darts his low eyes at your hidden face. Blows a cold, long breath on your clit.
“Hnn!” You’re mewling, voice muffled in your arms.
“Can you look at me..please.” His voice partly whiney.
You don’t want to. Too shy, too embarrassed to let him see you like this. It was all fun and games before. But it’s becoming too real. He blows at your clit once more. A tremor running through you, your lower body mainly. Small involuntary movements. You move an arm just above your eyes, you can see him a bit. He can see you too. The dilation of your eyes, the fuzzy look of it. The heaving of your chest, just enough that your tits bounce every inhale. It’s all too much for him. He shouldn’t have asked.
Once your eyes are on his, he moves. Closer now. Just a hair away from your weeping pussy. He juts a wet tongue out, pushing past his lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, curling the muscle against your clit. The moment you feel it, you whine. Teeth pulling at your lower lip. Not over his clothes, not over your clothes. His tongue. The raw thing.
He gives another slow curl, this time staring lower. Near your opening. Sliding upwards, meeting your clit before blowing. Cold. Shuddering, you try to close your thighs, locking his head in place. He’s quicker. Grabbing below your thighs, hiking them up on his broad wide shoulders.
“You’re okay. Hm?” He assures you before continuing.
He’s way stronger than you, you couldn’t fight back if you tried. He dives in again, sucking hard all of a sudden.
Slurrrp
Your heads lulled back, the front of your neck on full display. Holding in whines, that barely leave your lips. Arms still above you.
He brings his mouth off of your clit and blows again. Another wave of cold air gliding on your pussy.
“Fuck!” You moan out. Loud. You bring an arm down, your hand finding his hair, tugging him into you. He lets you. Forcing his face into your pussy.
Sucking, slurping. Full French kisses on your pussy. Tongue jutting out before sliding between your slit, not entering you yet, just parting you. It slides from the entrance of your hole up to your clit. He waits there, sucking the aching muscle into his mouth. Hollow pink cheeks. His eyes closed in pleasure. Admiration. His crush, letting him eat her out. He’s dreamed of this.
He teases his tongue, gliding lower, circling back up to your clit then lower again. You’re shaking violently, eyes tight shut, mouth hanging open. The sounds you tried so hard to fight back leaving you so easily now.
His tongue circles your hole. Pushing in slowly.
“Toji!” You mewl out to him. He knows you’re getting close.
He hums into you. You cry out. Back lifting. He removes his wet mouth again, an inch of distance from him and your pussy. He blows. A familiar coldness on your clit. Quivering hips, bucking into the coolness. Chasing that feeling. You’re crying now. Tears rolling down your cheeks, staining the sheets.
An abrupt orgasm ripping through you, a fast build up pooling at your stomach that you couldn’t realise quickly.
You’re shaking so much now, whining so much, thighs jutting beside him. Your chest heaving vigorously, tits swaying. He doesn’t stop.
Tongue plunging back in. Bringing a rough thumb to your clit. Circling it. You attempt to run away. Hips bucking the opposite direction. He uses his free hand and grounds you. Digging you into him, the bed. You can barely move. Just violent trembles as he eats your pussy.
“Insi— hngh!”
He fucks his way inside your pussy. Tongue delving in, whilst keeping harsh circles of his thumb on your clit. Fuck it’s all too much for you. No one’s ever done this before. He’s gonna ruin anyone else for you.
Shlck shlck
Wet noises of your pussy filling the room. He’s groaning into you. Deep baritone noises buried in your cunt. Your arms are everywhere now. Gripping the sheets below, your pillow above.
“Toooo much! Ugh!” Moaning loud. Your face twisting, burying the noises into your pillow.
He’s locked you in place. Moving is so much harder now. Meaty biceps flexing at every thrum of your clit. Your juices, his saliva drooling out the corners of his lips. He’s so into it. Engrossed. Eyes still closed, just feeling you. He’s overwhelming you. Pushing your body past limits you didn’t know you had.
You’re nearly there again. But it’s slightly different this time? It feels warmer. Wetter almost? You can’t really tell but you know it’s different.
“Toji! I think— hck! It’s ouhfuck!” Your voice pitches higher and higher, need tightening it, edged with a hint of fear.
He doesn’t stop. Still tongue fucking your pussy, pushing as deep as it can go. Thumb circling against your clit, harder, faster. It’s all too much. Your back’s arched in a gracious bow, hips lifted, legs falling on and off his shoulders. Tears clogging your vision. You can’t see him. The build up coiling so perfectly you can’t hold it in.
It’s everywhere, your juices spraying out, covering his face. Squirting all over. Pink cheeks stained in wetness. His glasses, fully fogged now wet.
“That’s it baby, let go f’r me.. mhmm soo good f’r me.” Thumb under your clit, pushing it higher, letting more of your juices out. He’s kissing your shakes thighs, wet open-mouthed. Sucking slightly. Trailing the kissing up to your knees, while humming praises at you.
Your wailing, sobbing. Breathing turns uneven, your chest stuttering at every tremble. Tits following along.
He sits up on his knees, bringing a wet hand removing his stained glasses, to the hem of his shirt, lifting it in one quick tug. Then his t-shirt underneath. Unbuttoning. Top to bottom. His low eyes still fixed on your quivering state. You roll your tired head upright, facing him. Watching. Chest falling softer now.
Sculpted, taut contours of his abdomen come into view, hard, rock-like muscles that look engraved. The t-shirt falls past his arms, beefy veiny biceps, strong forearms flexing as he removes it fully. You’re in awe. You knew Toji was strong but nothing like this. Sharp deep lines of his abdomen, the ease of his movements. You can’t take your eyes off.
He lowers his hands to his belt, unraveling the thing easily. He steps off of your bed for a second. Your eyes follow him. He’s dragging his slacks down. Two hard tugs and it pools at his ankles, he steps out of it. Dark hairs littered at his lower hard stomach.
You see the meaty indent of his boxers. Bulging, thick muscle fighting against the fabric, pushing at it. It’s so big. Much bigger than you thought. It throbs under your stare.
He’s put you under a spell. You see his hands come to the top of his boxers, his thumb hooking under, disappearing into his boxers. Your gasp goes unnoticed. Lips parted, eagerly waiting to see the rest of him. His thumb pulls down, fully exposing himself. You finally see it. Angry reddish tip, nearly purple, beady clear drops of precum leaking through, falling from the head nearing the base. Thick, girthy, too long. Distended veins running up the sides, a prominent one running up the top of his shaft. Heavy hanging balls, darker than the rest of him. It’s fucking huge. Full eight inches of raw cock. Your eyes almost pop out. Fully in disbelief of that fitting inside. It can’t possibly fit.
He hauls the boxer until it falls to his feet, steps out of it and onto the bed again. Knees digging back into the sheets. A weighted dent on the bed. Pure muscle. You haven’t stopped staring at it, nearly drooling, he’s eating up your reaction. Chuckling. Body vibrating at the rumble. You’re still in a daze, he’s gripping your hips, both hands, pulling you closer so your thighs rest atop his. Feet hanging off the side. He grabs the weapon in between his legs. Gives a few slow pumps of his fist. Squeezing at the tip, moaning low. You throb at the sound, shifting a little. Fingers tightly grasping the sheets below.
He lowers it, lining it with your clit, rubbing around it, circling it. Realll slow. Pushing into it, past it til the tips catches your hairs. He grunts at the feel. Heavy breath puffing out his nose. Brows knitted. You hiccup a broken moan. Lips parted. Wet.
He rubs it further into your hairs again, biting his lower lip before bringing it to your sopping hole. Both sodden. Hot.
A slow push of his hips, he’s entering. The tip stretching your virgin hole. Plush, mushroomed. He halts. The pressure, too fucking tight. He’ll work you open. Has to. He retracts his hips, turns you over so your back is against his chest. You're both laying on your side. It feels too intimate this way. He’s hugging your body so close to his. Spooning you. Not letting you go. A hand wrapped around your waist. The other, fondling your tits.
“Gonna take you this way.” His voice rumbles in your ear, he gives a steady long stripe of his tongue against it. A throaty groan leaving him. You wiggle on him, whining. Your ass bumping his cock every few turns.
He reaches a hand down to his cock, bringing it to your hole once again. Pushing in heavily. Tip nudging further. A few inches getting in. A quarter way. He brings his free arm up, covering your neck, your teeth gnawing at his swollen bicep, his forearm. Tears springing at the edges of your eyes. Wetting your lashes again.
“Hnngh!” You whinge out. Inaudible words pouring out.
“I know baby, I know.. I know it’s too big.” He encourages you, voice rough, laced in pleasure.
Another few inches forcing their way in.
“Toji! F—fuck!”
“Shh. I’ve got you.” He reassures.
He’s easing in slow. A couple more now. Your pussy sucking him in so well. Soo good. He’s nearly at the base. He abruptly stops. The wet heat of your cunt trapping him in place. Clinging onto him. He might cum if you move. He digs his face into your hair, breathing in deep, eyes fluttering. An unhurried push of his hips and he’s all in. Burly inches of his cock stretching you so deep. Your eyes are rolled back from the feel.
It’s not that it hurts. It did. But it was that uncomfortable stretch. The fullness of his cock edging deeper. An unfamiliar feeling yet, you felt completely whole.
Fully sheathed inside you. You feel it throbbing, every rigid vein, every pulse. Pressing at your cervix. Bruising.
“Fuck, ‘got a deep cunt— nghhfuck.”
“Toji.. please— something! Do something!” You cry into his elbow. Voice muffled. It hurts. An aching sensation. You feel little throbs of his cock hitting places you’ve never reached before. Never felt before. And he’s soo deep. Way too deep.
With a husky groan, he retreats his hips back and steadily rocks into you. Long, deep strokes thumping at your cervix. Balls hammering, his strong hips flush against your ass. Rippling with every thrust. The tip of his stiff cock, gliding through you, bumping your g-spot. You feel it once. Twice. Then you're smacking at his hip, arm reaching behind you. Pleading with him to let you go. It’s too good. You can’t take it.
“Ffuck off. Hnn!” Moaning, fussing into his flexed bicep. Wet eyes. You’re urging your shaky hips away. Scrambling forward, desperate.
“You want me to fuck off?” He sneers back at you. Laughing into the spot behind your ear. Breath fanning it.
“N—no. I don’t knoww.” You weep, sniffling. Tears pouring down his forearm.
“You don’t know?” He’s snickering.
His pace quickens. Deep fast strokes, you feel it in your throat. Your gaze turns unfocused, eyes forced back. Your nose buried in his arm, hot breaths leaving your soppy lips. You’re kissing his arm. Biting. Marking him. Grounding yourself as he plummets your insides. Turning you to a putty mess. You’re gone. So far gone. He’s snaking a hand up, pinching your nipples, rolling the buds in his fingers. You’re wailing loud. Juddering.
A familiar torrid ache forming at your lower belly.
“O—oh my godhnn!” It doesn’t even settle in your belly. Wrenching out of you intensely. So incredibly. You couldn’t hold it in even if you tried. Too sensitive.
“Nghh!” With a groan, you’re coming down. Tits bouncing, your body so very warm. He’s helping you through it. Slower strokes. Still bumping your spot. You whimper.
“Nghstopp!” Crying out, begging. A hand clutching at his, scratching. The other, clasping at the wet sheets. Smudged with the mixture of sweat and cum.
He doesn’t stop. Instead, he hauls his burly body, shifting his weight so he’s fully on top of you. His face, closer to you. Near your left ear. You’re crushed underneath him. Belly flat on the bed. He’s locking an arm around your neck once again, bringing the hand on that arm to your face, covering it. You can’t move, at all. He’s clamped your lower body in place. His other arm, steady beside you. Contorted. Tensed. His veins are more prominent like this.
Wet lashes brushing your cheeks, your mouth now muffled in his larger hand.
“Mhhhhn!” You try to kick your legs, but it can only fold at the knee. Your claves touching the back of your thighs. You can’t move your thighs. Can’t part them. His hefty body won’t allow you.
He does a lengthy grind into you. His happy trail flushed at your ass. He hasn’t pulled out the entire time, not giving you an ounce of space.
He keeps at it. Deep grinds, his tip knocking at your cervix. Pressed so heavy against it. Stretching you impossibly further.
Haggard breaths, uneven moans brush at your ear. He’s getting closer now. Hips stuttering in broken circles.
You’re completely out of it. Dumbed. Fully. Can’t think of anything but the feel of his cock so far deep in your pussy. The veins. The bumps. And god you’re so sensitive. Another quickening build up of warmth steadily rising in your stomach.
“Fuckfuckfuck—”
Another few irregular rolls of his hips and he’s cumming. White thick hot beads of cum discharging into you. He won’t stop moving. Pushing it as deep as it can go, making sure you don’t spill a drop.
You’re numb. Body limp under him. Arms flat at your sides. Eyes fully rolled back, coarse hot air puffing past your lips.
He’s grunting atop of you. Moaning low, still feeling the white hot pleasure of his cum, your pussy. Especially your pussy.
He brings an arm up, rough hands palming, rubbing your back in slow gentle movements.
“From now on, just let me teach you everything, yeah?”
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
A/n: lawdfddd I need him so bad. Also this wasn’t proofread.
@toj1sleftnut <33
Don’t transcribe or translate into anything else. Thank ya <3
warnings: slight power imbalance, fingers in mouth, gagging, fingering, hair pulling, hickeys. wc: 1.4k
if one were to ask each and any of suguru's followers about what she was like, their answers would only speak of how sweet she was, of how her honeyed voice has guided them into a life far more fruitful than anything they could've built by themselves. a dignified leader.
if only they had known how mean she really was.
letting her get you ready for the cult gathering you were meant to attend proved to be a bad idea by the minute. for the past hour, suguru has been sitting in your lap, analysing your features as she did your makeup. her sleek hair tied up with a ribbon that matched her violet eyes perfectly; delicate fingers grazing your jaw as she adjusted the angle of your face to her liking. but yet, not a word about the only barrier between you being her midnight blue kesa lazily tied at the waist, and a pair of skimpy lace underwear to match.
she was driving you crazy.
"mmh, so beautiful." suguru mused as she applied mascara to your resting lashes, "tilt your head for me, please?"
the feel of her velvet voice and touch caressed your senses in such a way that it turned you into a fluttering mess. time stretched out into making this moment seem ages long, getting you to need more of her when you could barely handle it as it is.
you did as told, a mousy squirm escaping you instead of an actual answer.
her crimson stained lips quirked up, hardly visible but enough for you to notice by the time you opened your eyes. "anything wrong, pretty?"
your eyes fell south to the way her breasts showed under the loose fabric, how her nipples peaked through. such a perfect distraction. your thoughts crumbled in on themselves by the time you met her feline gaze.
"nothing wrong," you lied through your teeth. and the knowing smile suguru gave you only made your panties more sodden with slick. she was playing with you.
the smoky smell of sandalwood incense felt heavier in the air as she held your chin and painted your lips in the colour matching hers. there was a nausiating claim flaming in her violet eyes; spreading the pigment with effortless precision and pulling you deeper under her cruel spell.
so it was difficult to believe that suguru's hand slipping and smudging away your lipstick was purely unintentional. but what else could she do other than continue to play innocent?
"look what i'm doing…" she shook her head, giggling tacitly, "i should clean up this mess i made, hm?"
your breath stuttered, lips parted as suguru softly drew her thumb to smudge away the excess makeup. one gentle movement at a time, until you've noticed that instead of tidying you up, she was further smearing the pigment past the edges of your lip.
"suguru… what are you doing?" you questioned with a feeble look.
she giggled again, truly entertained. "i'm sorry, just couldn't help myself."
although, there's not even an ounce of guilt as she proceeds to push her thumb over and past your lips, entering your warm, welcoming mouth. "you just look so pretty like this, so messed up…" she smiled.
your eyes go wide, acting on your impulses as you wrap your lips around her digit and begin sucking softly.
"that's what you wanted all along, isn't it?" she cooed, pushing further and holding your chin at the same time.
you gave her a needy hum, a weak agreement dipped in subtle embarrassment. vulnerablility engulfed you as you started bobbing your head, falling deeper into exhiliration.
heat began to bloom in your core when suguru's other hand travelled down to your lower back. with a slight pull, she corrected your posture, making you arch into her. "that's it, you like my fingers, baby?"
her thumb withdrew from your mouth, allowing you to reply while dragging the silky remnants of spit down your lips and chin.
her touch made your eyes flutter shut for a moment, too desperate for more. "mmh—yes, yes, i love them," you whimpered.
her hand skimmed over the damp material of your panties, making you gasp as she pulled them to the side. "of course you do," suguru crooned.
you felt so weak, so utterly needy for anything she'll give you. led from all of the years you spent serving and admiring her, having been bottled up—just begging to explode in this very moment.
you couldn't hope to stifle the loud, high-pitched moan that left you as suguru's fingers slid into your weeping cunt. just two digits that made your eyes roll back; entering slowly and curling with skill.
she made sure you felt every precise movement, stretching you out until your honeyed slick leaked into her palm and your lips turned bitten, struggling to be quiet.
suguru loved seeing how much power she had over you, how difficult it was it trying to keep it together. it made you look so adorable.
that's when her fingers entered your mouth again, this time her middle and ring finger. they pressed down your tongue, forcing another whimper to come out. "don't hold back, show me how much you like it," suguru purred.
your eyes turned glossy when she picked up the pace, sliding in and out of your soaked cunt and hitting every spot that made you squeeze her the tightest. taking the time to notice every expression you made and when certain sounds resurfaced.
suguru knew how much you wanted to please her, she could see it on you. and you were doing such a good job of it, soaking her hand like that.
just as she curled in deeper, her digits slid deeper into your mouth as you weakly sucked on them, making tears glisten lightly at the corners of your eyes. "i know you can take it, sweetheart," she assured, although you could hear the assertiveness beneath her sweet tone. it was an order.
your eyes squeezed shut and rolled back as a gag caught in your throat, a sight that painted a slow, satisfied grin across suguru's lips. "so good for me," she praised.
her hand slipped from your lips to tangle loosely in your hair, tugging your head back while her fingers kept sinking into you without a pause, pulling back a string of sinful whines.
suguru's scent hit you first, warm and dizzying as she leaned in, then the heat of her breath brushed past your ear when she spoke with a hushed whisper.
"think you deserve to cum?"
her voice pushed you in a wild haze. you could not feel or hear anything else other than her mocking guidance and the way she stuffed your cunt full. a wave of chills brushed over your skin as her lips grazed your neck.
you choked back a breath, and that's when suguru cut the already short distance between you and grinded closer, latching her lips to the side of your neck and starting to leave kisses filled by impatient, unbridled desire; suctioning, and surely leaving marks in between.
"suguru—let me cum, please," you gasped, in over your head.
the agonising knot in your lower half became impossible to ignore as she smiled against your skin. pushing you so close to the edge while euphoria took over you.
you were breathless, your head sinking forward into her shoulder while your hands clung to the floor. the light peeking through the windows seemed to flare, turning impossibly bright as suguru's hands broke you completely.
the tatami mats beneath felt unsteady, as if gravity had vanished and left you floating, entirely consumed by the overwhelming waves of stimulation as you came all over her digits with a shattered moan.
a quiet hum of satisfaction escaped suguru's lips while her messy fingers slowly slipped out free. her opposite hand lingered, tenderly caressing the top of your head while you caught your breath against her.
the moment you pulled yourself away, she raised her glistening digits to her mouth, sucking them clean with a deliberate, feline gaze. her knuckles grazed over the side of your neck, tracing the exact spot where her lips had dwelled just moments before. suguru wore a sly smile as she admired the canvas of faint bruises and marks of crimson lipstick painted over your skin.
"now, i believe there's somewhere we have to be," she crooned.
a/n: i've missed writing so so much but unfortunetely this break has turned me rusty as hell😭 there's so many things i want and plan to write, but due to writers block, the updates will be slower. also, hopefully ill be able to get rid of the content label so i wont have to move accounts💔 testing the waters with how this fic does. but anyways, i really hope you've enjoyed this so far, promise to be back w better/longer fics!!
seven minutes in heaven w frat!kuna gets a bit heated ... (shy!reader)
you shouldn't be here. no—you shouldn't have even considered being here. the idea crossing your mind in general was laughable, but, here you were. sitting criss cross apple sauce in a circle with some of the most popular people at your university. sukuna had invited you, claiming it was your turn to have a "taste of his world." you reluctantly agreed, uneasy at what it might entail, and you were right to. you were always right.
"it's her turn," the white haired one, gojo, nodded to you. you swallowed hard and reaching a shaky hand in the middle of the circle. before you could reach the bottle, someone objected.
"this is getting boring," shoko, the dark haired one who was close with gojo, complained. "it doesn't help this is a game designed for edgy middle schoolers. make it interesting."
"seven minutes in heaven?" another brunette suggested. the people in the circle murmured as they considered the idea.
"you said that a little too quickly choso," gojo said suspiciously. "anyone you got in mind?" he clapped his back and choso turned a deep red.
"dude..." choso said, clearly embarrassed.
"still designed for edgy middle schoolers..." shoko grumbled.
"i'm down for seven minutes in heaven." your head shot up at sukuna's voice. he entered the kitchen with a few more bottles in his hands. he handed them to a few of his friends before settling down beside you.
"you okay?" he whispered to you.
you nodded before turning your focus back to the circle. you didn't want him to coddle you. sure, this wasn't the way you'd typically spend a friday night, but you were fine. sort of. as long as he didn't leave your side. it dawned on you that he might have to during this game to go makeout with someone. you didn't like the uneasiness that settled into your stomach at that thought. he's probably done that and more a hundred of times...but still. you couldn't shake the icky feeling.
"okay, stop stalling. let's start then,” geto, another frat bro, urged. seems like the discourse was finally over. "whose turn was it again?"
everyone's eyes landed on you. your stomach churned and you nodded awkwardly. god, you really needed to stop nodding. you probably looked stupid. but you felt stupid. whoever it landed on, you'd tell them you weren't interested and just sit in silence for all of the four hundred and twenty seconds. that was your master, foolproof plan.
you spun the bottle and watched as it did almost a full 360, just falling a bit short of where you were sitting, but just enough to stir things up. the entire circle cheered when it landed on sukuna. they cheered on as he stared at the bottle in disbelief, looked at you to make sure you were okay with it, and even when you dragged your feet to the closet with him trailing behind you.
the darkness that engulfed the closet was daunting. you stepped on his foot at least twice and accidentally elbowing him. you apologized profusely and he reassured you it was fine, then silence fell over the two of you.
was your plan really that foolproof? it was created with being picked to kiss a stranger in mind. sukuna was no stranger. if you had to be completely honest, you wouldn't mind kissing him. to fulfill the challenge of course. nothing more.
"what are the odds?" he said finally.
you laughed at his stupid pun. "close to none since you were sitting right beside me."
he scoffed, "you always seem to make the impossible possible. why are you surprised now?"
you frowned. "huh?"
"i have the best grade i've ever had in all my years in college right now, thanks to you. i actually give a shit about school in general, thanks to you. if you told me i'd be where i am now a year ago, i'd laugh in your face." he sighed. "i just wish you could see the impact you make."
you were stunned. you didn't expect the two of you to sit in silence for almost ten minutes, but you didn't expect it to get deep.
"no, you're okay. i'm just processing." another minute passes before you break the silence.
"you're the only would i'd feel comfortable doing this with," you blurted out. you winced immediately as your confession hung heavy in the air. it was silent before you heard a low chuckle.
"sitting in the dark in silence...or making out?"
it was your turn to keep quiet. you hesitated, before replying with a simple, "both." it wasn't long before sukuna fumbled around the dark and finally found you. his lips crashed against yours and the two of you walked backwards until your back hit the wall. the two of you both groaned into the kiss. your fingers found their way in his hair as you kissed him back. this kiss was hungry: weeks of built up tension finally adding up this moment. you tugged his hair lightly and he grunted. he pulled away to trail kisses down your neck and you gasped. his lips were hot on your skin and you whined softly.
“kuna.” you gasped once more as he started sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck. your skin was on fire. he pulled away and leaned in to whisper in your ear.
“tell me to stop.”
your eyes widened as his hands traveled down your body. you didn’t want him to stop. you were probably violating multiple rules in your handbook, but right now, you didn’t care. you held your breath as his hand dipped under your skirt and in your panties.
“jesus christ,” he muttered, “you’re soaked.” you bit you lip and spread your legs a little wider. he chuckled and leaned in even closer.
“i’m guess you don’t want me to stop?”
you shook your head even though it was dark. “no,” you swallowed hard, “please don’t.”
with that, sukuna pulled your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside of your weeping cunt. you trembled as he started pumping them slowly inside of you.
“shit,” he groaned. your slick was bound to be coating his hand by now, but the two of you were too turned on to care. he buried his head in your neck and sighed. you moaned as he curled his fingers, velvet walls clenching around him.
“shhh, they’re right outside,” he shushed you and clamped his hand over your mouth. he continued fucking you with his fingers, muttering about how wet you were. sukuna’s long fingers reached where your own couldn’t, even the spongy spot deep inside of you. you whined as he reached your g spot, moans muffled by his hand. heat pooled in your stomach as you got closer and closer to the edge. your heartbeat faster as he chased your high.
"isn't this a-against like f-five different rules?" you asked nervously. the pleasure building in your abdomen made you feel slightly guilty. no wonder it felt so good, you weren't supposed to be doing anything like this at all. when you first signed up, you'd promised treat mentees with respect...and your current predicament was anything but respectful.
"who cares?" sukuna murmured. "we started breaking rules when we had our first date," he kissed your neck and chuckled. "you're close, aren't you? cum for me. need to feel it." he kissed your cheek and you groaned. you prayed the lewd noises coming from you weren't audible for the audience outside. with one last shaky breath, you came undone. you clenched around his fingers and shuddered as he kept going, pushing you past overstimulation. your body shook, overwhelmed with the pleasure as you gasped.
"k-kuna." your broken cries were barely coherent. your thighs shook and you clutched his arm to steady yourself.
"hmm?" he asked you mockingly. "you always take what i give you so well." he pressed a kiss to your temple.
you opened your mouth to reply but you both froze as someone knocked on the closet door loudly. "yo, the seven minutes have been up."
with an exasperated sigh, sukuna pulled away and helped you put yourself back together. your legs felt like jelly as you did the walk of shame out of the closet. you didn't dare meet sukuna's eyes or any of the other people in attendance. you were sure what you had just done would be evident on your face. it definitely was on sukuna's. other than his messy hair and his slightly swollen lips, he had that mischievous glint in his eye once again. the two of you sat back down and watched as the next duo was picked.
"you okay?"
you titled your head slightly and saw sukuna eyeing you warily. you were more than okay. whatever the hell went down in the closet wasn't something you expected at all. to be honest, you were sad your time was cut short.
"mhm... i kinda wish we had more time," you admitted. your eyes quickly scanned the room to see if anyone had heard your confession. they were too busy teasing choso for being next.
sukuna chuckled and leaned in. "that can certainly be arranged."
soldier boy who ever since you’ve joined the seven, can’t help but glance at you from across the table during meetings as you try and listen to the fatiguing voice of Homelander. You try to be strong and drown out the dirty thoughts about one of your fellow team members since it’d be totally unprofessional to do anything with him..
soldier boy who smacks your ass, callous and unapologetic as the sound ripples through the thick air of the elevator. Earning a small groan from you, “hands off, old man.” and a smug little smirk growing on his plump lips. You hate it.. well you tell yourself that, but you and soldier boy both know that you crave anything from him. His rough touch, his cold and sharp glance, his unmistakable scent of whiskey and sin; so when he does it again before you leave you don’t say anything, and to him that’s victory.
soldier boy who loves teasing you during training. You’re punching into the bag, a weak attempt at trying to smother your unethical thoughts however a strong frame creeps behind you, warm chest pressed up against your back before he grabs your arms to pause your punching. “your form is off..” his voice is stern and isn’t at all helping those disgusting thoughts in your mind perish. Instead it’s making arousal pool in the pit of your stomach, and you to believe that your senses have heightened because there’s no way you losing control so easily. “I had it.” you mutter, shaking off the grip on your upper arm before you move away from him so you can quite clear your mind without distractions.
soldier boy who loves calling you everything but your actual name. “doll— pass me the bourbon bottle will ‘ya” whilst you’re both sitting in the common room.. “listen, sweetheart, i’ll tell you one thing about the men of today and it’s that they’re fucking soft.” whilst you’re practically being forced to listen about his rant about his son, Homelander. “I just want what’s best for you, sugar” the words are so sweet rolling off his tongue, sounding sincere and kind but you know deep down they don’t come from sweet intentions, everything he says is rooted in lust and hunger. So when you return the favour, calling him “old man,” or.. “so, tell me, do you miss the 80’s, gramps?” or even .. “you’re so fucking ancient, here let me help you with that.” it just earns you a scowl, but deep down he loves the fact that you both exchange this humour.
soldier boy who knocks on your door in the middle of the night whilst you’re still half asleep. You grab your phone from the nightstand unhurriedly to check the time before throwing it back into your bed and shifting to open the door. He waits patiently, which juxtaposes his whole personality, though you don’t even bother to question him about it because as soon as you open the door he’s glaring at you with the same emerald stare that could pierce through the depths of your soul.
“the fuck do you want..” you sigh exaggeratedly. “look if you’re here to rant about Homelander you can do it in the morn-“ you were cut off by his hands grabbing your face and pulling you in for a ravenous kiss, the taste of gin flooded your mouth and his scent of cigarettes dipped in arousal hit your nostrils; his fingers cupping your face whilst his tongue fights for dominance in your mouth. You moan into the kiss whilst he pushes you back, his leg shutting the door with one foot before he shoves you down in the bed. “I need you dollface, and i’m tired of waiting.” His voice echoed through your ears.
You gasp softly, glaring up at him with narrowed brows, “Soldier boy, we can’t— this is unprofessional!” you whisper yell at him but he just chuckles, his rough voice corrupting the innocent air of your bedroom. “Unprofessional? You think I give a fuck what these vought fuckers want? nah.. sweetheart, you know we both want this.” he smirks and you suck in a harsh breathe, glaring up at him through wet lashes as he stares at you from the foot of your bed. Suddenly you weren’t so tired anymore.
Soldier boy who pounds into you like it’s his last time ever fucking you. Calloused hands gripping your hips, leaving maroon bruises to wake at his every touch. “Fuck, baby, the way you’re taking my cock.. it’s like you were made for this..” he groans almost animalistic but without a doubt unholy. “..made ‘f me..” he whispers as he leans down into your ear, cock hitting impossibly deeper inside of you; his pace only getting faster and harder.
Soldier boy who mocks you when you try to ride him. It’s not your fault, his 8 inch godly dick isn’t easy to get used to. “this your way of showing your appreciation for me fighting for this country?” He scoffed, but it was most of a chuckle, one brow raised with his eyes hooded. “i’m so fucking grateful.” you teased before you inched your body down onto his cock, mouth hung open as you felt the pain of the stretch, yet the pleasure hit to quickly. “god— dollface.. you’re really impressin’ me..” he groans as he grabs your chin to bring you into a quick kiss before you begin grinding down on his cock. “didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.” — “fucked a lot of girls who thought they could take me, all they did was disappoint, but you.. you’re quite somethin’ “
His tip slick with desire. Your juices pooling at his lower abdomen and into his bushy pelvis. Your fingers were tangled in his hair as you found the strength to bounce lightly, not too fast, you didn't want to tire yourself out too quick, even though you were a supe, you had your limits, and you wanted to prove yourself to him, show him you’re not just another one of the ‘pussies of this generation’ and that you can take him so well since due to his years of sexual experience, he definitely has his standards during sex, and he could definitely tell that you’re worthy of his cock.
Your pace grew faster, and his groans turned into primal moans. Loud and clear for the whole tower to hear, “this what you’ve been dreaming of? hm?” your eyes shut tight from the pleasure of his fat cock inside of you, he smacks your face to bring you back to reality, “answer me.”
“yes.. yes.. it’s all i’ve been dreaming— ahh..! fuck— it’s all i’ve been dreaming of!” He found himself gripping onto your hips, giving your ass a harsh smack that’s bound to leave a mark for days and adjusting you to his desired speed, pounding his cock up into your sweet cunt. “good fucking girl, that’s what I like to hear. You make me so fucking proud.”
You were grinding down harder on him since you felt his cock twitch inside of you, knowing he was close. "i’m gonna nut inside of you, babydoll." he groaned, “and you’re going to fucking take it, you’re gonna take all of it.” you moaned at that, voice of an angel though the contrasting sounds of skin slapping and slick noises filled the void of the bedroom. His groans were now moans, lustful, raw, pornographic moans.
he grabbed your face, pulling you in for one last kiss before spilling his seed into you, “and don’t you dare think of wasting it.” Your mixed juices were seeping down his cock, now pooling on his pelvis. The adrenaline hit you, and you didn't even feel your thighs burning from bounces so hard onto his cock.
Soldier boy who praises you, “you took me so well, sugar, let’s go another round.” but even when you shake your head and insist that you really couldn’t, he pushes you to your limits. That’s how you find yourself getting folded and put into 3 different positions for the rest of the night, moaning, screaming and sobbing on his cock and from his words.
⊹ . ݁꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ݁ . ⊹
a/n :: hey guys don’t even ask why i’ve been so m.i.a😭😭😭
Soldier Boy who will take every chance to give a little slap to your ass, doesn’t matter where you are or who is with you. Most of the time his hand comes down harsh tho, not in a gentle way but in a way that’s just him making sure you don’t step out of line.
Soldier Boy who doesn’t just tap your cheek a little when you ask him to slap you during sex, he lets his hand crash down on your cheek that if you weren’t pinned down by his entire body weight you’d fly across the room. When tears spill from your eyes he just rolls his and ignores your „not that hard“ crys.
Soldier Boy who likes to ask you the most random shit while he’s balls deep in you and while knowing exactly you’re in no condition to answer. If you don’t answer or get it wrong he of course has to punish you, it’s not his fault tho you could’ve just used your smart little brain.
Soldier Boy who calls your all kinds of names when he fucks your pussy but when you let him use your mouth or ass he calls you his perfect little doll who could do no wrong. He’s conditioning you into craving it since this is basically the only time he’s that nice to you.
Soldier Boy who when he creampies your fingers his cum back into you, telling you how you gotta keep his fucking babys nice n warm and how he’s gonna turn you into his pretty little baby mama.
Soldier Boy who forces you to hold your breath a little longer then you can whenever you two smoke together. You feel the smoke burning in your lungs but you also don’t wanna give him any reason to get pissed so under his gaze your slowly start to get dizzy.
Soldier Boy who doesn’t believe in giving you privacy like ever, you don’t get to shut the door while showing, you don’t get to walk into another room while changing. He believes you’re his and he gets to look at what’s his whenever he wants.
Soldier Boy who has you pull your panties up with his cum still dripping out of your pussy. He likes seeing the grossed out look on your face while you look at him like it’s his fault, no your were the one who made him come so you must have wanted this.
You guys funny thing I started having a life idk what happened I’ve been so busy I’m sorryy. Ima try and be more active thoo Xx.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut , non-supe ben x fem.reader , age gap [ben 40s] , soft dom!ben , p/v sex , prone bone , headlock , brat taming , light degradation , creampie , begging , 18+
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 430
want more?
thinking about how brat tamer!ben would handle you the second you started acting up.
one smart comment too many and he’s got you face-down on his bed , chest pressed into the mattress , one heavy arm locked around your head so you’re forced to look straight into the mirror across the room. he isn’t choking you , yet. ben’s making sure you can’t hide your face.
god , he’s so big it feels like being buried into the sheets. the dense hair of his unkempt beard scrapes along your shoulder as he mouths at your neck with sloppy kisses. the fat head of his cock reminds you just how bad you need this. dragging up through your folds , smearing wet precome over your sopping cunt.
“could’ve just asked me for dick , instead a’ bein’ a brat.” he muttered against your ear , amusingly. “all you needed was this cunt filled.”
and there’s nowhere left for you to go. long deep strokes that force the air out of your lungs every time he bottoms out. the wet slap of his hips against your ass fills the room. every thrust punches a broken sound out of you.
your toes curl tight. drooling seeping onto the bicep locked under your jaw. when he flexes it , the muscle tightens against your chin and forces your mouth closed a little more. the bush at the base of his cock relentlessly scratches against your lower back.
ben can feel how close you are— the way your cunt keeps fluttering and squeezing around him with every deep stroke. but he can’t let you get off that easy.
the long , heavy thrusts turn deliberate and maddening. dragging almost all the way out before pushing back in so slowly you can feel every thick notch and vein of his shaft.
“you think brats deserve to come?” he asks mockingly. “after all that attitude?”
and of course you break. shaky pleas spill out of you against his arm “please , please , i’ll be good , i promise” while your hips try to push back for more.
but only when your voice is properly wrecked does he give in. driving back into you hard and deep, fucking you through an orgasm until your whole body tightens around him. you come in pulsing waves , milking his cock while you’re held down in place.
and when ben finally comes he’s flooding you until creamy white rivulets start to leak out around his cock and drip down your thighs.
“you’re too fuckin’ pretty to be giving me lip,” he mutters against your ear, almost proud. “next time your horny just ask for it.”
𝒹𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸 ! 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝓎 who smacks ur ass a little too hard while ur standing at the stove cooking a meal for the both of you, savoring that stunned, half annoyed half prudish expression on ur little face
domestic soldier boy who thanks you for starching his jeans “real nice and good” by bending you over the washer the next time ur loading the laundry in. his hands grip ur hips tight after lifting ur skirt, grinding his thick cock against ur ass as he groans in ur ear.
domestic soldier boy who buys u little sets of delicate lingerie for your birthday and holidays, just for him to shove the soft fabrics out of the way when he’s got his cock buried in u. ur folded in half beneath him on the bed, taking each thrust with little girlish uh, uh, uhs that makes him grin.
domestic soldier boy who occasionally makes you kneel under the desk in his study, his leaking dick in ur mouth as he signs off at monthly bills. because he refuses to have shit automated, much less digitally. you brush ur tongue flat against his cockhead, lazily stroking the untended inches. and when he’s about to cum, he grabs your hair in his fist and shoves you down until u gag, ur nose buried in his pubes as he shoots thick ropes of hot cum down ur throat- and u have no choice but to swallow.
domestic soldier boy who holds u flush against his chest, his boner pressed against your back. one hand grips ur tit, infrequently pinching your nipple through your shirt as his arm holds u in place with no escape. his fingers plunge inside your tight cunt, switching between quick little juts and slow, steady up and down thrusts that absolutely should not have happened before he’s obligated to head out.
and you already know what his face will twist into if u ask him about washing his hands after u cum, crying out, clenching ur fists and eyes shut: positively offended and confused. he’d let you go, smirking as your legs wobble, and he’d kiss your forehead before leaving, keeping the smell of u on his fingers all day as a sweet reminder.
a/n: genuinely why is it so much easier for me to write for homelander than soldier boy. and the gag is i want to write so much for him. idk. hope u enjoy i havent watched the finale yet i will the day this gets posted with my friends and i’ll definitely have stuff to say. love yall gn
Summary: Ben notices how insecure you are, how you never feel pretty or 'ladylike', and he does everything in his power to make you feel that way. In his sick and twisted way, of course.
♡ warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, slight dubcon (not rlly), intoxicated sex (drunk & high), dollification, dumbification, creampie, slapping, free-use, boot humping, pussy-slapping, mentions of piss, soldier boy is really mean, pet names (doll, baby, whore, puppy, mutt), drugs, misogynistic comments, ben dressing you up, no mentions of y/n, reader-insert.
wc: 3.4k | : omg i’m so sorry this is so late </3 my silly computer UGHHH but i hope you guys enjoy this one!! He is such a pervert freak in this ughh im sorry this is yuck...
Soldier Boy had everything.
He had drugs, strippers, money, power—he had everything he could ever want, and most importantly, he had you.
His girlfriend, well, his toy- that was the easiest way to put it.
A young thing like you, waiting for a position to be an assistant, only to be dragged by the hair by Vought, and turned into Soldier Boy’s assistant—barely.
Your existence was a sponge, soaking up what Ben couldn’t give to anybody else; his outbursts, his anger, his frustration, and other needs you didn’t know anything about until he had you bent over. He liked you, liked what you did for him, and what he could do to you.
It wasn’t his fucking fault. Vought had picked up an innocent thing like you, all wide eyes and eager to do something meaningful, and you definitely had a meaning in his life; always there, waiting, and batting your lashes, following him around like a puppy. He basked in it.
And then he found out about your inexperience—not just the fact that the first time you saw a cock in real life was when he was casually changing in front of you, or how you didn’t know how to kiss with tongue; no, it was the fact you hadn’t been drunk before, hadn’t smoked a joint before either. Completely innocent.
He remembers noticing you grimacing when he’d light a joint, or the way your jaw would clench when he’d speak to you, and you could smell alcohol on his breath. He thought you were being polite when you’d refuse a drag or a swig, only to realize it was because you hadn’t tried it before. Not once.
And now it was a routine; he’d get you high and drunk every fucking night. He’d sit you on his thigh, and let you smoke until you got dizzy, and drink until you complained about your ‘tummy hurting’. And he’d love it, and he had too many sick ideas he wanted to bring to life… and he did; like making you his doll.
Ben had noticed one thing about you, the way you dressed. It wasn’t like most women—it was bad, he’d say. Your skirts were wonky, and your shirts didn’t flatter your shape, and you didn’t wear much makeup either, and he was always curious as to why.
That’s until he started to doll you up on purpose, get you drunk and high, and dress you in skimpy skirts and low-cut tops, make you wear push-up bras, and make you wear makeup. He forced the femininity onto you, and loved it.
Now you’re slumped over against a small chair in the corner of the bedroom, your eyes glazed over, and there’s a soft ringing in your ears—you’re drunk and high, crossfaded in a way that makes Ben’s deep voice a blurb of nothingness. He’s sauntering in, carrying more pieces of clothing for you to wear.
“Try these on, doll, lemme watch,” Ben drawls smoothly, walking towards your limp figure, your eyes barely open.
“Ben…” you babble softly and shake your head, your hands trying to pull down the skimpy dress he had already got you into.
“C’mon, ain’t gonna ask you again,” he mumbles, that Supe strength coming in handy when he reaches down, lifting you beneath the armpits like a doll.
Ben loved watching it, more than he should; your lazy hands trying to slide on the dress straps, watching you trip over your own feet, landing hard on your ass or knees. And he’d smoke, watching you, beckoning you over for another hit, and then purposely sending you back. It was torture for you, entertainment for him.
Ben puts you onto the floor, dropping the few pieces along with you, and you can barely keep your head up as you sit there on your knees. You’re practically seeing double as he walks towards the chair you were once sitting in.
“C’mon,” he drawls, lighting another joint, his legs spreading, and he sinks into the chair. “You gonna put on a show f’me? Or are you gonna sit there like a useless whore, c’mon, sweet thing.”
You lift your head and look around the spinning room, and then down at the lingerie Ben had given you; soft and lace, white and angelic. He might’ve been an asshole, but he knew what you liked, even if you never had the guts to put it on.
“Ben…” you mumble softly and shake your head, trying your best to pull down the straps of the dress. “I can’t think.”
“Neither can I when you’re actin’ incompetent,” he hisses, his head tilting to the side as he blows away a stream of smoke. “Get naked n’ the face me, n’ spread your legs, too.”
You sigh softly and nod, swallowing back the taste of alcohol bitter on your tongue. You try to sit up but can feel the room spinning still, that cloudiness making it a bit hard for you to do anything at all.
“Am I gonna have to get up and do it myself?” Ben asks, his eyes narrowing at you, scratching the side of his scruff.
You shake your head, turning to look at him; the mascara you lazily painted on your lashes was dripping down, and your lipstick was smeared, and your hair was a mess. You’re so drunk, and struggling to take off the tight dress.
Ben watches in amusement still; it’s like a fawn trying to walk, or even better, a fawn stuck in a trap, struggling and desperately trying to get away before the hunters butcher it. He takes a long drag of the joint, watching you carefully take off the dress.
“Atta girl,” he nods, clapping his hand against his thigh, the other one too busy holding a joint. “Ain’t so fuckin’ dumb, yeah? Now spread your legs.”
The floor is hard against your bare body, and you turn to face Ben, struggling to see him with the way your vision is—blurry and hazy. You spread your legs, and he scoffs, shaking his head.
“Your pussy been drippin’ this whole time?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, green eyes narrowing. “Or… has it been wet all fuckin’ day?”
You shake your head, although you know you’re lying. Your hands are behind your body, and you’re barely holding yourself up, your eyes watching Ben as he slowly stands up from the chair and begins to walk towards you. You swallow hard when he stands before you.
“Almost feel bad for doin’ this shit to you…” He drawls out, crouching down to your level. “But you ain't dress like a lady, or act like a fuckin’ lady either,” he hisses, lightly slapping your cheek, just to hear you whine.
Ben is well aware of your insecurities: all of your skirts dipping past your knees, hiding your thighs; your shirts never low-cut, sticking to long sleeves; no dramatic makeup or hair; keeping yourself as plain as possible; never wanting any attention. It drove him fucking crazy.
“Pretty enough to be a fuckin’ stripper,” he tells you, pinching your cheek, feeling the blush he heavily applied to you. “Yet you hide… like a kid. You’re supposed to grow outta feelin’ like this, you know?” he murmurs, pushing your face away and rising to his feet.
He takes a long drag of his joint again, sniffling, shaking his head. He looks down at you, all corrupted and drunk, high and dizzy, and he’s thinking about making you do a line or two, so he can really get you into that pliable headspace he loves more than anything, could maybe get you into another dress.
Ben begins to walk between your legs, and his boot presses against your bare core, just the tip of it; all hard and cold, and you immediately crumble back and onto the floor, your back against the wooden panels. He smirks at how pliable you are and lightly moves it in circles, watching you whine and squirm around.
“You really are a fuckin’ doll,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, watching your legs writhe against the hard ground, your hips barely lifting off the ground. “Just… all limp, and brainless–you’re better like this, might have you doped up all the time.”
You whine softly as he lightly rubs you with his boot, and you’re shifting against the hardwood floor, and he watches, lazily smoking his joint and blowing it off to the side. Your clothes and other garments you’ve tried on are beside you in a pile, all paid for by Vought, and thrown out the next day.
Ben pulls his boot away and leans a bit closer, only to gently press down onto your stomach with it, watching your squirm and whine, your head tipping back. He adds pressure, just to pull back once again. He’s just testing what you can take, and you can hear that chuckle deep in his chest.
“Can’t be pressin’ on your tummy too much,” he laughs around the joint, blowing out the smoke. “Last time you pissed all over yourself–that ain’t ladylike at all.”
Ben wipes beneath his nose, itching for some blow, and he looks back at the small coffee table in the room and notices the bag on it. He’d be doing lines all day, and to his surprise, the son of a bitch left it there, and he grins, immediately walking over to it and kneeling before it.
“Get over here,” Ben calls to you, gesturing to you. “On your hands n’ knees, c’mon, puppy,” he teases, glancing back to the surface before him.
He’s working on dumping the white powder onto the surface, using a stupid card from the deck on the table, shuffling it into a few lines. Meanwhile, you’re barely holding yourself up, completely naked and crawling towards Ben. He looks at you, and grins.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he laughs at the sight of you. “Snortin’ this’ll cheer you up in no time, doll–make you feel all good, not so… dumb.”
Your body is slumped beside Ben at the table, and he uses his hand to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it into a ponytail, while also using it to push your head down for you. You automatically snort up the white powder, tipping your head back, and he watches your eyes roll back, suddenly feeling a rush of euphoria.
“Atta girl,” Ben praises, chuckling at how out of it you look. “Makin’ yourself useful, snortin’ my blow–you gonna pay it back, huh?”
“Mhm…” you babble, wiping under your nose, watching him dip down to take a long snort, too.
“Feels fuckin’ great, hm?” Ben asks you, looking at you beside him, but he can see you slumping forward. “Ah-ah… can’t be droolin’ all over yourself, mutt, not ladylike.”
He pushes your chin up with his hand, forcing you to look at him; makeup smeared across your face, your lips curled into a pout, and he wants to do nothing but devour the entirety of you right now.
“Precious,” he mumbles, squishing your cheeks, listening to you whine. “Never met a girl who lets me do this to ‘em, you know that? They usually have more self-respect, but you got none.”
You want to tell him that this job was thrown at you–you didn’t ask to become his assistant, which bled into something more; you didn’t ask to become his doll he dressed up, and doped up, and then used for hours, and you also wouldn't tell him how much you like it. Not at all.
“Let’s get you into some pretty clothes again; how does that sound?” he drawls, watching the distress etch into your features. “Get you all fuckabkle again… not like this, ain’t gonna fuck you when you’re lookin’ like some bitch I’d pick up on the corner, baby.”
Ben stands on his feet, and you tip your head back, watching that figure of all muscle tower over you, and he’s reaching under your armpits, helping you to your feet, and taking you towards the bed. He places you onto it, watching you go limp, a soft whine leaving your mouth.
“I’ll dress you this time,” he tells you, lightly patting your hip. “Make it easier for you… yeah? Poor little mind of yours must be nothin’ but stars, probably wantin’ my cock just about now, too.”
And God, was he right; the minute his boot touched you, you wished it were him; buried inside of you, treating you like the ‘bitches on the corner’, and maybe worse because he knows he has access to you again–you don’t care, and you never have; that’s why you don’t mind him walking over with another dress. You whimper.
Ben is man-handling you as he slips you into it; his hands work over your limp limbs, forcing you into the dress. He’s giving you the benefit of the doubt, putting you into something less tight and skimpy, more flowy and loose; it’s like he’s turning you into an angel before defiling and ruining it all.
Once you’re in it, he takes a step back, admiring his work of the night; you, a mess, dizzy, drunk, high, and utterly needy for him to stuff you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, slowly moving towards you.
“If you put any ounce of fuckin’ effort into your appearance…” he drawls, leaning down to grab your cheeks again. “Guys would be linin’ up down the block… just beggin’ to stuff their cocks into this cunt, you know that?”
He adds a slap to your core with his free hand, listening to you whine and hiss, your eyes squeezing shut at the sharp pain. It stings, but he cups you there, lightly rubbing with his palm, soothing the burn, and forcing pleasure to overrule it. He grins at your reaction.
“Almost don’t want them to,” Ben admits quietly, shaking his head, listening to you moan softly as he focuses on your clit with his rough thumb. “Kinda… want you all to myself… my doll, my pretty, pretty toy… and you like it too, don’t you?”
He watches you nod quickly, liking the odd ownership he has over you, how easily you submit and obey him, despite the shit he puts you through; the burns on your arms from his joints, the bruises on your knees from him pushing you down onto them, and the rips in your underwear from his desperation. But it’s so Ben, and his print is everything to you.
“It’s nice,” he goes on, pressing down onto your clit now, forcing out sounds from you. “Havin’ this wet cunt to myself all the fuckin’ time… with the whores, they’re unpredictable, bitches, but you’re always so, so needy, and dumb.”
He watches your gaze, all hazy, your eyes wide and waiting on him. You’re already getting blissed-out from just his thumb on your clit, and he’s not even bothering to warn you that his hand is working out his belt, and he’s loosening his jeans, and reaching for his cock that’s been hard the minute you stepped out in that stupid outfit he put you in earlier.
Ben takes his hand away, and there’s zero warning, not even a tap against your entrance like he usually does, not a stupid remark that makes you question what he’s gonna do; all nine inches slide in, and it’s easy when you’re drenched the way you are.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell,” he groans, feeling just how tight and warm you are. “Just walkin’ all day with this between your god damn legs… and then you wonder why I bend you over for no fuckin’ reason.”
He stares down at your face; your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth hanging open, a relentless stream of drool going down your chin, and onto your cheek. It’s humiliating, how absolutely lax you are, the way your body is so limp, and soft against the sheets.
Ben’s big hands maneuver you so quickly, an impatient gesture he’s doing; mating press, that fucking position he loves so much; contorting you, your legs bent back, and his hips pressing into yours. It gives him the best angle to fill you, while also forcing you to cum too.
“She’s clenchin’ so much,” he groans out, his hips rocking, deep, hard, relentless threats. “Wrappin’ around me so pretty–like a real lady, yeah? You bein’ a real lady, right now?”
He’s always had a thing for this, forcing you into this cheretcure when he fucks you, and his head tips back, his hair falling in front of his forehead as sweat begins to coat him. You’ve already been glistening in it since you were on the floor.
“Lookin’ real cute in that dress,” he mumbles, smirking, staring at the way he has it hitched over your hips, his hands pressing on your thighs, keeping you in that awkward position. “Can’t be walkin’ around in shit like that around me, you know what it does to me.”
Of course you know. You remember the one day you chose to wear a tighter, shorter skirt, and that led to two thick fingers fingering you in the back of a limo on the way to events. You had to stand there with dirty underwear and ripped tights, all while Ben couldn’t give less of a shit about the absurdity of it all.
Now he’s grunting and groaning on top of you, animalistic noises leaving his body, his cock thrusting deep and hard inside of you, forcing out noises from you that mingle with chokes and cries–he feels so good, so thick, and throbbing, hitting each part of you that you’ve tried not to beg him to.
“Poor baby, all doped up, can’t even keep up while bein’ fucked,” Ben sneers, pushing your legs back further, and you can feel the stretch in your muscles. “But you take it anyway, don’t you? Act like a real brave girl, huh?”
His eyes glance at your mouth, watching the drool trickle out of it, the lousy smile trying to curl into your lips, and he’s only realizing now how much this clearly means to you; all pretty and dressed up.
“That stupid look on your face,” he huffs, shaking his head. “Cockdrunk,” he mumbles, forcing himself deeper and deeper, finding amusement in the way your pretty eyes disappear into the back of your head.
He’s relentless with his thrusts, all fast and heavy, his cock hitting every soft spot, over and over, and you want to cum, want to finish all over him, but you’ll be hit with a ‘no’ because good girls wait, and listen to what they’re told to do, and you’re always being told that you can’t cum.
“Please,” you mumble out, the words a string of babbles, barely comprehensible, but Ben notices.
He clicks his tongue. “Who the fuck taught you to speak?” he asks, and he leans down further, listening to you whine at the stretch again, all while he shifts deeper inside of you.
Ben can feel you clenching around him, your walls taking him in, and he’s fucked enough women to know what it means; you’re close, and he grins, his lips turning into a sharp grin, those green eyes trying to find your fluttering ones. He licks his lips.
“Cum,” he mumbles, and the words fall flat on your ears–you’re not sure you’re hearing him correctly. “I said… cum.”
His words are sharp in the room, and god, do you ever cum, and he does it at the exact same time; a calculated move so the two of you could clash, and groan, and moan together, and he buries himself deep inside of you, forcing his seed to spill into you–there’s always been so much, so much cum, and he blames it on his body wanting to repoducde these supe genes desperately, and you’re forced to soak it up. Literally.
“One day… gonna get you fuckin’ pregnant, my kids in your stomach,” Ben mumbles, keeping you in that position still, but not moving. “Really show people how well you take me.”
You’re absolutely out of it by the end, and he’s just staring down at you, fawning over the look on your face and the outfit you’re in. He licks his teeth and glances down between your bodies.
“You know,” Ben speaks up, his voice a lazy hum. “Real good girls let me use every hole.”
Hello my beautiful dolls. Thank you for reading me and continuing to subscribe. I'm grateful to each of you for your personal messages of support and your requests. I'll keep writing, I love you all.
You liked Ben. You really liked him, and you were in love with him. However, you weren't in a relationship. He was much older than you, and every time Ben said you were such a pushover that he just couldn't get anywhere with you. He might joke about you or just flirt, but nothing more. Once in your dialogue with him, he told you how many women he'd been with, and you rolled your eyes, telling him you weren't interested and that he was an idiot. But the feeling of his indifference towards you hurt you, and you decided to move on. You tried. You met a guy when you and your friends were at a bar. Jake was madly in love with you. He was a little older than you and quite handsome and attractive. Every time he gave you expensive gifts or sent you flowers you thought Ben would care. That maybe he would do something. But nothing happened. One evening, you were getting ready for a date.
Ben lounged on the couch, sipping whiskey and holding his breath in irritation. The room smelled of stale smoke and regret—the very atmosphere he felt most at home in. He'd been watching you move for the last twenty minutes, his green eyes following every fold of that tight dress you were squeezing into. He wanted to make some rude comment about how damn delicious you looked, but something about the way you looked in the mirror stopped the words in his throat.
You looked good. Damn it, too good. The way your neckline fell, revealing what he'd been imagining for months, made his cock twitch against his thigh, but he maintained his usual bored, goofy expression.
"Where the hell are you going looking like that?" he growled, the words coming out harsher than he intended. He took another sip of whiskey, the burn doing nothing to dull the sudden surge of possessiveness that was plaguing him. "You're wearing so much makeup just to disappoint some pathetic loser?"
He slammed the glass down on the coffee table and stood up slowly. His muscular frame was visible in the reflection behind you. He hated that he cared. He hated that seeing you dressed up for someone else made him want to punch the wall.
"Oh my God, are you actually going to date that jerk?" he muttered, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his chest. "You're wasting all that beauty on a guy who can't handle a real fucking woman."
You were stunned by his words. He'd been acting uninterested this whole time, but then it happened. You were ready to forget about your feelings for Ben, so you said in a bored voice, "Seriously? And who can fix that? Do you have anyone in mind, Ben?" You smiled, continuing to look at yourself in the mirror and adjust your lipstick.
Ben let out a harsh, humorless laugh that sounded more like a threat than anything funny. He hated that smirk on your face, that damn calm, bored smile that said you didn't care what he was saying. It made him want to shake you, or bite you, or do something equally damn cruel. How galling of you to challenge him after months of him playing the role of an indifferent jerk.
"Don't you dare mess with me, doll. I'm not in the mood for your damn games tonight," he barked, stepping even closer until his chest almost touched your bare back. The scent of whiskey and tobacco drifted off him in waves. His reflection in the mirror looked wild, his green eyes dark with something he refused to name.
When you asked who could fix this, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed ready to crack. The possessiveness he'd suppressed for months suddenly burst forth, hot and disgusting. He reached out, his large, rough hand gripping your waist with such force it left marks, and pulled you back until your ass was pressed against his hard thigh.
"You think this is a fucking joke?" he growled in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "You think some pretty boy with flowers and overpriced crap is going to know what to do with you? Hell no." He leaned down, his lips brushing your temple, and his voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "No one knows how to handle a sexy thing like you better than me. And I'm tired of watching you throw yourself at every pathetic sack of shit that walks through that damn door."
You placed your manicured fingers on his chest and leaned toward him, playfully whispering in his face, "I have a date with handsome, so please step aside."
Ben didn't flinch at your touch. Instead, he pressed himself against you, letting your manicured fingers press against the firm muscles of his chest, as if relishing the provocation. His smirk wasn't kind, but the hungry, dangerous gaze of a predator who clearly knew the rules of the game. He let out a quiet, mocking chuckle that ran down his ribcage and reached your palm.
"Handsome? Is that what we call him now?" he asked mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Some soft little prince who's going to treat you like you're made of damn glass? God, y/n, you're pathetic."
When you motioned for him to step aside, his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your tight dress. He didn't move an inch. In fact, he ground his shoes in even tighter, becoming an immobile wall of muscle and bad temper between you and the exit.
"I don't take orders from you, sweetheart. Especially when you're dressed like you're asking to be spoiled." His green eyes raked over your body with naked, shameless hunger, lingering on your plunging neckline before returning to yours. His confidence had returned, but beneath the unbridled, territorial need lurked something more desperate, something he could no longer hide. "You'll never fucking understand tonight. Until you realize this hottie will bore you to death before he even takes your shoes off."
You bite your lip, looking at him, and your pride begins to crack at the seams. Your love for him hasn't gone anywhere. For the first time, you heard him say he truly needs you. "I have to go." You pulled away from him, grabbing your bag to leave.
The moment you tried to retreat, the fragile wall Ben had erected around his feelings didn't just crack, it fucking exploded. He watched you pull away, saw the flicker of conflict in your eyes, and something primal inside him snapped. When your phone began to ring deafeningly, some signal that you were on a date, Ben lost the last of his composure.
"Screw it!" he roared.
Before you could react to the ringing, he moved with that inhuman super-speed that always caught you off guard. In one fluid motion, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. Your stomach clenched as you were thrown over his shoulder, your face pressed against the rough fabric of his T-shirt, your legs dangling helplessly.
SLAP.
The burning sensation of his palm hitting your ass echoed loudly through the quiet room, sending a wave of pure heat up your spine. "You think some damn phone call is going to change anything?" he growled, his voice shaking in your ribs. "That little asshole can wait. Or let him go to hell."
He began walking toward the couch with heavy, purposeful steps, completely ignoring your protests. He sounded irritated, but beneath the anger lay an unbridled, possessive need that made his words almost desperate.
"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. I said you're staying here." His grip was iron, territorial, and uncompromising. "You're mine. And if that hottie calls again, I'll fucking break his phone and his teeth."
You couldn't help but laugh. Was this really the first time you'd seen him like this? "Oh my God, is this soldier boy jealous?"
Your laughter was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Ben froze mid-sentence, his muscles tensing beneath you like steel. He hadn't expected you to laugh; he'd expected tears, screams, or even some kind of bloody resistance. Hearing you mock him, ridiculing his jealousy while you hung over his shoulder like a trophy, made his blood boil, dangerously close to arousal.
"Jealous?" he repeated, the word escaping in a guttural growl. He stopped and turned his head just enough to glare at you, his green eyes blazing with fury and something far more primal. "You think this is some kind of fucking teenage drama? "You think I'm sulking like some fucking schoolboy because some idiot is asking you out?"
He exhaled sharply and mockingly through his nose, but the way his grip on your hips tightened told a different story. His cock strained against his pants, so hard it hurt, and the rage pulsing through him was undeniable. He wasn't just jealous; he desperately wanted you, and the realization that you'd almost slipped through his fingers made him feel cornered.
"You really have a sharp tongue, don't you?" he growled, his voice dropping to that rough, dangerous timbre that always made your knees weak. "You think it's funny to play with fire? Fine. Let's see how funny it is when I fuck all that clever bullshit out of your head." Without a word, he turned and unceremoniously dumped you onto the sofa cushions, immediately hovering over you.
The phone kept ringing, but you didn't care. You bit your lip, looking at him. "You like my damn mouth, soldier boy." You smiled playfully.
That smirk, that damn playful, knowing smile, was the last straw. When you said it, your voice oozing with seductive confidence, Ben felt something snap in his brain. He didn't care about the ringing phone on the floor, and he certainly didn't care what kind of date you thought you had. All he saw were those plump, lipstick-stained lips challenging him.
"You think you're so damn smart, don't you?" he hissed, though there was no real anger left in his voice, only pure, undiluted hunger. "You think you can just piss me off and leave?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He crawled over you like a predator pinning down its prey, his heavy body pressing you into the couch cushions. One hand grabbed your chin, his rough fingers lifting your face so you had no choice but to meet his blazing green eyes. His other hand slid down your neck, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, smearing the expensive lipstick across your skin.
"Yeah, I like your fucking mouth, y/n," he growled, his face inches from yours. "I like it when you're smart, and I'm going to fucking love it when you're too busy screaming my fucking name to talk."
He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, his breath smelling of whiskey and something dangerously intoxicating. "So let's test this theory, sweetheart." Let's see how long that sweet smile lasts when I'm done with you."
You cling to his shoulders, licking your lips. "Are you bluffing? Or are your stories just nonsense?"
The flick of your tongue across his lips was like a spark in a room full of gunpowder. When those words left your mouth, making you doubt his courage, doubt his damn abilities, Ben didn't bother with further verbal responses. He was done speaking. The time for bravado and posturing was over; he needed to prove who the hell he was.
He pressed his lips to yours forcefully, with a ferocity that wasn't so much cruelty as raw, desperate need. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a declaration. His lips were hard and demanding, tasting of whiskey and nicotine as he pressed your lips to his teeth, tasting the sweet tang of your lipstick. He kissed you like he was trying to rip all the air out of you, his tongue darting through your lips to claim the territory you'd teased him about.
A low, guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest as you pressed yourself against his shoulders, your small hands gripping the firm muscles of his body. He loved how you felt small, soft, and utterly overwhelmed by his weight. One of his hands slid from your chin down to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head at the perfect angle, deepening the kiss until your brain felt like it was about to short-circuit.
"Bluffing?" he rasped against your lips, finally pulling away for a split second, his eyes dark and wide with lust. "I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget your own fucking name, let alone some idiot's phone number."
Ben didn't waste a second. The adrenaline from his near-loss of control still swirled through his veins, creating an explosive cocktail of pure need. He shifted his weight on the couch, adjusting his position to better position you before yanking you forward by the wrist. You sank heavily onto his lap, clasping his thick thighs, the fabric of your dress riding up dangerously.
"Fuck, you're killing me, y/n," he muttered hoarsely. His gaze slid over your tousled hair, the stained and smeared lipstick across your cheeks like war paint, and your heaving chest. You looked exhausted, and it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
He didn't give you time to recover. He grabbed your hips with his huge hands, pulling you against him, and buried his face between your breasts. He let out a hoarse groan of his own, pressing hot, demanding kisses to your soft skin, his beard tickling the valley between your breasts as he moved lower.
As the first moan escaped your throat—that high, needy sound that signaled you were already coming with desire for him—Ben's grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed, his eyes dark with a possessiveness bordering on psychosis.
"That's it," he growled, pressing against your skin, his breath so hot it burned. "Make that fucking sound again. Let me hear how much you want it."
When those words left your lips—"I need you so much"—Ben felt as if he were struck by his own energy. This naked honesty, this surrender from such a passionate woman like you, pierced him like a defiant protector. Despite all his feigned indifference, hearing you admit to needing him was exactly what he craved.
"Fuck," he croaked, his voice shaking like gravel. "Don't say things like that unless you mean it, because I'm not fucking letting you go after this."
He kissed you back with renewed ferocity, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate rhythm that matched the beating of your hearts. Your hands, tugging at the dark strands of his hair, sent an electric shock straight to his groin. I didn't need to feel you closer. He needed to erase every inch of space between your bodies.
He still held your hair with one hand, lifting your face, while the other slid from your hip to the hem of your tight dress. He gripped the fabric, pushing it higher until he felt the bare skin of your thighs. His palm was rough and hot as he slid up, the friction sending sparks through your body.
"Do you need me?" he growled, pressing his lips to yours, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his pupils so dilated he almost swallowed the green. "Then prove it. Show me how much, my girl."
His hand reached the hem of your panties, his fingers hooking under the elastic. He no longer asked; he took what he thought was his.
A guttural, primal sound erupted from Ben's throat as your hands found him and slid under his belt. As your fingers wrapped around his thick, throbbing, and incredibly hot cock, he arched his back off the couch, his entire body tensing like a drawn bowstring. "Fuck... yeah, like that," he growled, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
The moment you began grinding against him, seeking friction, seeking to close the distance between you, Ben lost the last vestiges of self-control. He was a man who had held back his rage and desire for decades, but when you rode him, begging like that, all those walls crumbled to fucking ash.
"Fuck, you're so greedy, aren't you?" he croaked, but there was no protest in his voice, only unbridled, unrestrained lust. His hands moved from your hips to your buttocks, his fingers digging deep into your flesh to steady you and help you find the perfect angle. He guided you, his hips instinctively lifting in response to your movements.
As you pressed yourself against his cock, the friction of your panties against his was almost unbearable. He felt how slippery you already were, how desperately your body responded to him. The heat between you was unbearable.
"Don't stop, damn it," he commanded, lowering his voice to a dangerous, vibrating whisper. "Rub yourself against him. Let me feel how much you want this cock inside you. I want you begging for it."
The sound that tore from Ben's throat when you finally took him was a wild, deep, guttural roar that pierced his entire chest as you slid down his length. When you finally gripped him, slick and tight, the sensation was so overwhelming that his eyes momentarily clouded with white heat. For a split second, he couldn't even breathe, his fingers digging into your ass so hard he knew they would leave bruises.
"Fuck! Oh my god, y/n!" he choked out, throwing his head back sharply onto the couch. His hips bucked involuntarily, trying to penetrate even deeper, his cock stretching you to the limit. The feeling of being completely immersed in you was more intoxicating than any whiskey or drug he'd ever taken. He grabbed your hair again, not to hurt you, but to force you to look at him while you took him. His eyes widened, his pupils swallowing his irises as he stared at you with terrifying intensity.
"Look at you," he growled, his voice hoarse and broken. "Look what you're doing to me, you greedy little doll. You really did it." A dark, triumphant smirk flickered across his lips even as he panted. "You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted to see if I was lying?"
He gripped your hips hard, setting the pace instantly. He didn't wait for you to adjust; he began thrusting with powerful, crushing thrusts that made the couch creak beneath you both. "Yes, fuck, yes. That's it. Take every damn inch."
The sounds you made, those helpless, needy moans escaping your lips every time he entered you, were better than any fucking moan he'd ever heard. He loved how exhausted you sounded, stripped of the calm, bored demeanor you wore like armor. Your makeup was a complete disaster: lipstick smeared across your chin, mascara running down your cheeks, hair tangled, but you looked beautiful and sexy because you looked like you belonged to him. You looked like that because you belonged to him.
When you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control, Ben felt something dangerously close to tenderness. But he didn't know how to handle it. Instead, he simply hugged you tighter, his huge arms encircling your body tightening, pressing you against his sweaty chest.
"Yes, fuck, hold on to me," he growled in your ear, his voice broken and hoarse. "Don't let go, fuck."
His thrusts grew more desperate, more brutal, each one penetrating deeper than the last, striving for the inevitable explosion. He fucked you with all his might, his hips working like a machine, his cock stretching you until there was nothing left but sensation and sound. The friction was maddening, the heat between your bodies building to such a pitch that his entire body trembled.
"That's it, baby... just take it," he breathlessly muttered, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he entered you again, harder than before. "Show me how much you need it. Show me that you're mine."
You kissed him again, biting his lip.
When you moaned into his ear—that desperate, piercing moan that signaled you were crossing a fucking line—Ben felt his composure snap like a broken twig. The vibration of your orgasm on his cock was the final push, sending him spiraling into a white-hot abyss.
"Fuck!" he roared, his voice shaking with unbridled intensity. His hips froze in place, and he thrust into you with one final, crushing thrust, his body shaking. The orgasm crashed over him like a freight train, a furious, overwhelming surge that made his entire body tremble and his muscles tense. He spilled inside you, every pulse of his cock leaving a mark on you. The room exploded in a haze of sensation as he came, his gaze narrowing until he saw only you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweat, expensive perfume, and pure, undiluted arousal, riding out the aftershocks. His heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer hitting your ribs, uneven and thunderous.
For several long seconds, neither of you moved. The only sounds were ragged, desperate sighs and the distant, muffled ringing of your phone somewhere on the floor, completely forgotten. Ben didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his heavy weight pinning you to the pillows as he slowly recovered from the euphoria.
"Fuck..." he croaked, pressing against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable, devoid of all his usual bravado. His grip on your hips loosened, turning from painful to something almost possessive, but in a different way. "You... you fucking killed me, baby."
You smiled at him, looking up at him. "I love you."
The words hung in the air between you. When you whispered those three words, Ben froze. For a man who had spent decades building walls of whiskey, gunpowder, and the blatant, unfiltered behavior of a scoundrel, this simple confession was a punch right to the solar plexus.
His first instinct was to duck. To make a crude joke, call you a child, retreat to safety, become untouchable, a seasoned soldier who didn't care about anyone. But the words wouldn't come. He couldn't lie to you, not after you both had just surrendered to each other. Not with your heart still pounding in his ears.
"Fuck," he breathed, more of a sigh than a curse. "You really don't know when to stop, huh?" You giggled.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted slightly to get a better look at you. His green eyes were still clouded with residual lust, but something softer, something vulnerable, glimmered beneath the surface. Slowly, with surprising gentleness for hands that had just left bruises on your thighs, he reached up. His rough fingers grabbed a tangled strand of your damp hair and carefully tucked it behind your ear.
The gesture was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of the last twenty minutes. He paused for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm on your lips.
"Yeah, well…" he began, his voice hoarse as gravel, trembling slightly. He looked away for a split second before forcing himself to look at you again, his jaw clenched. "Don't get used to this, doll. I'm kidding. But yeah. I fucking love you too."
You laughed, pushing him in the chest.
Just as your laughter broke the heavy silence, Ben let out a rough, chuckling laugh, the kind he rarely showed anyone. When you snuggled into his chest, he didn't resist; he simply let you lie there, though his gaze never left you. The vulnerability of this confession was already hidden behind his usual armor when the doorbell rang, cutting through the aftertaste like a gunshot.
You exchanged a long, meaningful look before he moved. "Damn," he muttered, though his words held no real passion. He helped you up, his movements surprisingly careful as he helped you straighten your rumpled dress and smooth back the remnants of your hair. When he stood to straighten his clothes, groaning awkwardly as he pulled on his pants, the confident, dangerous Soldier was already there. He headed for the door with the confidence of a man who owned every inch of this damn building. When he pulled it open, your failed date stood before him. Some sophisticated, well-dressed boy, looking like he'd never seen real trash in his life, held a bouquet of flowers as if they were a shield.
Ben didn't say a word at first. He simply stood in the doorway, broad-shouldered and imposing, a smirk spreading across his face that was pure menace. He looked the boy up and down with obvious disgust, his eyes glittering with malicious amusement.
When you called out to him from behind his broad back, your voice curious and slightly breathless, Ben's smirk widened. He reached back without looking, wrapped one huge arm around your waist, and pulled you close, claiming you before this stranger.
"That jerk?" "Ben asked, leaning his head toward the boy, holding you tightly. He looked the boy straight in the eyes, his voice laced with mocking amusement. "They must have come for you, sweetheart. Looks like your little prince charming has finally arrived."
To day you and your girlfriends decided to go shopping. You visited numerous boutiques in search of sexy and seductive lingerie to please Ben. You settled on sheer Victoria's Secret lingerie that accentuated your luscious curves. Back home, while Ben was on assignment, you went to your room to change. The straps of your bra were decorated with bows, your panties were lacy and sheer, and your stockings and garters sat securely on your beautiful legs. You didn't even put on a robe as you walked to the kitchen for a glass of wine, but there was no time. Ben burst through the door, smelling of gunpowder, tobacco, and whiskey. His muscles were tense from some shitty assignment he'd just escaped, and his mood was awful. He was ready to open a bottle and pass out, but then he saw you. The sight of those lacy, sheer, damn thin stockings clinging to your curves made his throat go dry. His green eyes instantly darkened, tracking the light as it fell on the silk stockings stretched across your thighs. He didn't say a word at first; he simply stood there in his combat gear, breathing heavily, looking like a damn predator who'd just spotted something appetizing.
"What the hell is this?" he growled, though there was no real anger in his voice, only unbridled, uninhibited hunger. He dropped his shield to the floor with a heavy metallic *thud* that echoed throughout the kitchen. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack, doll?"
He crossed the room in three strides, his boots slamming heavily on the floor. He didn't give you a chance to respond or take a sip of wine. His rough, calloused hands grabbed your hips, leaving bruises on the soft skin as he pressed you against his tactical suit. The contrast between your soft, exposed skin and his hard armor was simply incredible.
"You look damn delicious." He leaned down, his beard scraping against your neck as he inhaled your scent. "And you'll pay for teasing me."
You smiled playfully at him, resting your manicured fingers on his chest. "Not so fast, soldier, you need to earn permission." You jumped onto the table in front of him, settling your luscious ass onto it and grazing his bulging cock with your foot. When you challenged him, Ben let out a hoarse, guttural sound, somewhere between a laugh and a curse. "Permission?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, raspy tone. "You think I care about permission when you're standing there looking like a fucking invitation?" His eyes flashed something sinister as he watched you leap onto the table, your sheer panties riding up impossibly high.
The brazen smirk on your face only enraged him further, in the best possible way. He didn't waste a second on words. He stepped between your thighs, his large hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly the wood creaked. He wasn't being gentle as he spread your legs; he wanted you open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy.
"Deserve it?" he murmured, pressing his face against your skin. "I'll show you how much I deserve it."
The heat of his breath touched your sensitive skin before his tongue, sending a powerful shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, he buried his face in your vagina, his rough beard pressing against your inner thighs, and began caressing you with an aggressive, demanding passion. He wasn't tasting you like a delicate dessert; he was claiming you, as if every inch of you belonged to him. His hands moved from the table to your ass, squeezing the skin so hard that they left marks, pulling you closer to his mouth as he worked you with shameless intensity.
The very thought of Ben tongue-fucking you, still in his suit, aroused you. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, and your hand was clutching his hair. You moaned and whimpered. Ben greedily licked your folds, teasingly nipping at your vagina and licking again. The sound of your moans was like gasoline to him, adding fuel to an already raging fire. Ben loved that sound, that shrill, helpless moan that showed him exactly how much control he had over you. Hearing your sobs as your legs rested on his broad shoulders made his own cock throb painfully against his zipper. He didn't care if his suit got ruined, or if the sweat and dirt from his mission mixed with your expensive perfume.
"Yes, that's it, sweetheart." "Let me fucking hear you," he growled, pressing against your slick skin, his voice muffled but oozing with vulgar satisfaction.
He deliberately tormented you, teasingly flicking the tip of his tongue across your clit, then swiping it harshly across your folds. When he bit down lightly, grazing the sensitive flesh near your entrance, he felt you arch beneath him. The combination of the rough stubble of his beard and the deliberate pressure of his teeth made your toes curl. He wanted to drive you wild even before he touched you with his cock.
His hands moved from your buttocks to your hips, digging his fingers into your soft flesh to hold you steady while he worked. He licked you with greedy, rhythmic intensity, swallowing your every moan. "You're so fucking wet for me, dolly. Look at you. Just so wet."
Ben pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, but he didn't stop his assault. His fingers dug into the edge of the lacy, sheer fabric, pulling it aside with no deftness until he was able to shove two thick fingers deep inside you in one swift motion. "Fuck, you're so tight," he hissed, watching your expression contort as your hips involuntarily arched into his hand.
He didn't take his eyes off you for a second, wanting to see every flicker of pleasure and humiliation on your face. "Look at you. The fucking mess on my kitchen table." His free hand came up to grab your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as his fingers worked inside you with a torturous rhythm. "All wrapped up in this gorgeous lace, getting fucked senseless by some old bastard like me." "You look like a fucking slut in that shit, Y/n. Sweet little slut."
The vulgarity of his words was deliberate, meant to strip you of all innocence as he stretched you. He watched as you bit your lip hard, your breath hitching, desperately gasping for air, trying to suppress the moans escaping you. "Don't fucking bite that lip, baby. I want to hear every fucking sound you make."
His fingers curled inside you, finding your sensitive spot and pressing down with relentless force. "You like this, don't you? Being treated like shit while you're in your Sunday best? Tell me how fucking good it feels when I torture you like this."
When the words finally escaped your lips, "Yes, Daddy," Ben felt something primal break within him. His pupils dilated until his green eyes were almost completely black, gaping with pure, unadulterated lust. Hearing you surrender, begging him, your body trembling under his touch was better than any damn drug.
"Just what I fucking thought," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, guttural rasp.
His fingers didn't slow; instead, they became even more insistent, stretching you wider, pounding into you with ever-increasing force. The way your plump lips trembled, parted in desperate need, made him want to devour you whole. He loved how vulnerable you looked, sitting on that table, completely distraught by his touch, clinging to his shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart.
"That's right. You're mine, you hear?" He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath hot and scented with whiskey. "You're my pretty little fucking slut, and you'll take everything I give you."
His hand moved from your chin to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently tilted your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your neck. "I'll fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own fucking name."
The restraint he'd been holding on to snapped. With one hand he was still working on your pussy, and with the other he began to desperately grope around his waist, trying to free the thick, throbbing cock that was screaming to be inside you.
Ben didn't waste a second speaking. The hunger in his eyes gave way to wild fury as he ripped his pants open, freeing his thick, throbbing cock. In one smooth, powerful movement, propelled by superhuman strength, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off the table. You barely had time to gasp before he spun you around and forced you onto your stomach.
The cool surface of the table pressed against your bare skin, but the heat from his body was unbearable. Before you could recover, the sharp, searing crunch of his palm across your buttocks echoed throughout the room. The slap was hard, deliberately leaving your skin tingling and flushed. "Stay still, princess," he growled, immediately moving his hand to the back of your head. He pressed just enough to pin you to the table, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep your face pressed against the wood.
"You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted to play dirty." His voice was a dirty purr right in your ear. "Well, now you'll take it like a good girl."
He positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock finding your entrance. He had no intention of entering slowly; Ben doesn't do anything halfway. "Open up for me, sweetheart. Let me see how you can take it." With a grunt and effort, he moved forward, impaling you with one merciless thrust that filled you completely, stretching you to the limit.
You moaned and whimpered louder, one hand trying to grab his sleeve. "Too fast... please, be gentle." When you begged for gentleness, Ben didn't relent, but simply laughed. "Gentler?" he repeated, the word laced with a contemptuous snort. "You didn't come here asking for gentleness, doll. You came here begging Daddy to fuck you." He showed no intention of slowing down; in fact, the sound of your pleas only increased his desire to thrust harder. The smug, arrogant smirk on his face was unmistakable as he watched your body struggle to accommodate his size.
The way you reached for his sleeve, desperate for some kind of support as your world spun, only strengthened his determination to dominate you. He reached forward, his large hand encircling the back of your neck. With a sharp tug, he pulled your upper body back until your back arched against his chest, making you feel every inch of his tight, tactical suit against your spine as he continued to thrust into you from behind.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "I almost want to slow down, but you're just so damn good like this."
He increased his pace, each thrust accompanied by a wet, slapping sound as his hips slammed against your ass. He didn't spare your lace lingerie or your soft skin; he fucked you with the same relentless ferocity he used on the battlefield. His grip on your neck was tight, controlling your every movement, ensuring that each time he entered you fully, you felt the full crushing force of his impact.
“Ben..please..”
Ben's patience had completely evaporated. The moment you tried to beg for mercy, something in his twisted, hypermasculine psyche decided you needed to know who was boss. With a growl full of power, he forced your body back down onto the hard surface of the table. He didn't just lay you down; he slammed you onto the table, his massive forearm pinning the back of your head, pinning you to the wood.
"Shut the fuck up with your whining," he growled, though his voice was thick with arousal. "You wanted the real Ben, didn't you? Well, here I am, fucking here."
The feel of his tactical glove digging into your skin was both terrifying and exhilarating: the cold, synthetic material of his gear contrasted sharply with the heat of your own body. He squeezed your neck just enough to take your breath away, making it clear that your safety was entirely at his whim. You heard your own moans and cries echoing through the quiet kitchen, the sounds of surrender that seemed to feed his ego more than anything else.
"Crying makes you pathetic, baby. But damn, it makes you so damn attractive." His free hand moved to your thigh, bruising the skin as he prepared to enter you again. He wasn't interested in your tears; he was interested in your reactions. "Now stop fucking whining and take it in stride. Show me what you've got."
Ben pulled out with a wet, sucking sound that left you feeling empty and aching, your legs shaking like jelly. Before you could even process the loss of his warmth, his huge arms wrapped around your waist. With frightening ease, he lifted you and slung you over his shoulder, as if you weighed nothing. You hung there for a second before he fell onto the couch, trapping you firmly in his lap.
He leaned back, surveying what he'd made of you. Your hair was stuck to your damp face, mascara smeared under your eyes, and your lips were swollen from his teeth. "Damn, princess," he growled, a dark, satisfied smirk spreading across his beard. "Look at you. You look like you just walked off the set of a porn movie. Unkempt, ruined, and completely, fucking wrecked."
His hands weren't gentle as he reached for your beautiful lace bra, yanked it off, and tossed it carelessly to the floor. "Trash," he muttered. His fingers moved to your garters, fiddling with the clasps as he slid the stockings down your thighs, his gaze tracking every inch of your exposed skin.
Suddenly, he grabbed your face, lifted your head, and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss drenched in whiskey and dominance. When he pulled away, his green eyes blazed with a command you couldn't resist.
"Enough of these games," he growled, squeezing your hips to position you over his hardening cock. "Come on, go ahead. Ride me like you want it, baby. Show me what that pretty ass of yours can do."
The moment you thrust his cock back into you, Ben let out a strangled groan. The feeling of you sliding against him, clinging to him like a lifeline, sent a wave of heat straight to his brain. He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, biting his lower lip, watching you fall apart on top of him.
You looked completely exhausted, your face buried in his shoulder, your body shaking with those exhausted, pathetic sobs. When you whispered that you couldn't take it anymore, that you had no strength left, Ben didn't immediately relent. His first instinct was to snort, but seeing how exhausted you were, how you were physically shaking under the weight of what he'd done, something flickered beneath his arrogant exterior.
"Fuck me," he muttered, harsher than usual. "You're pathetic, y/n. Utterly broken." But even as he said it, he didn't push you away with his hands. Instead, one massive hand came up and grabbed the back of your head, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, while the other wrapped around your waist, supporting your dead weight.
He had no intention of stopping, but he stopped his upward thrusts, allowing your hips to press against him. "If you can't ride, then just fucking stay here. Lean on me, you little disaster." He let out a long, ragged breath, his own breathing becoming ragged. "Just hold on. I'm not done with you yet."
Ben left you no choice. Even when you clung to him like a drowning person, your body was exhausted and trembling, he continued the rhythm. He didn't ask for anything else; He just took what he wanted, using your exhausted body as a vessel for his own liberation. His thighs moved up with constant, crushing power, driving his cock deep into you, and you could only cling to his neck with all your might. “That’s it, princess,” he growled in your ear, his voice vibrating in your chest. "Just fucking take it." Each push caused a new wave of trembling in your limbs. You were just a doll in his hands, driven by his power and his insatiable need. The wet, rhythmic sounds of the collision of your bodies filled the room, interrupted only by your intermittent, involuntary groans and hysterical breathing. He was not gentle, but in the way he hugged you, there was something almost possessive, as if he claimed his rights to you, even when he brought you to the limit. His grip on your waist intensified until your fingers dug into your hips while holding you up while he was picking up the pace. "Damn, you're so perfect," he hissed through clenched teeth, throwing his head back on the couch as his own enjoyment approached the climax. "So damn tight, even when you cry like a damn baby." He was close to orgasm, the tension in his muscles contracted like a spring. “Hold on tight, baby. Here it is."
The moment your orgasm ripped through you, sending a wave of helpless tremors through your entire body, Ben followed immediately. He let out a roar, more like the snarl of a wounded animal than a man, his entire body tensing as he came inside you with such force that your vision blurred. But after that, there was no tenderness, no caresses, no soft words in his actions.
As soon as his orgasm subsided, his dominance returned with a vengeance. With a rough, careless push, he threw you off his lap. You collapsed at his feet, your knees buckling as your exhausted body hit the wooden floor. Your hair was tangled, your makeup smeared, and your limbs trembling, looking as broken as you felt.
Ben didn't even have time to catch his breath before he began fussing with himself again. His cock was still slick with your secretions, standing angrily and demanding in the dim light. He loomed over you from the couch, his shadow swallowing you whole as he stared at your tear-stained face with his cold, hungry green eyes.
"Don't think it's over just because you ran away, doll," he growled, his voice dripping with vulgar satisfaction. He grabbed your hair, forcing your head back so that you were forced to look at him from your knees, defenseless and exhausted.
"Get up," he ordered, thrusting his hips forward sharply. "Take Daddy's cock into your little mouth. Now."
Desperate to please him and unable to resist the command, you crawled forward on all fours, trembling. Hot, shameless tears continued to stream down your cheeks as you opened your mouth to accept him. As you brushed your lips over his thick, throbbing cock, Ben made a sound, half moan, half growl, his fingers gripping your hair painfully, guiding your movements.
He didn't give you time to adjust. "That's it, fucking swallow it," he hissed, thrusting his hips forward. He thrust into your mouth with one brutal, deep thrust that caught the back of your throat, causing your eyes to fill with tears and your body to shudder. The force of the thrust made you gasp around him, but before you could process the sensation, his body tensed sharply.
"Fuck, that's it!" he roared. His hips jerked repeatedly as he came, sending waves of hot cum deep into your throat. He held your head mercilessly, forcing you to drink every drop, ensuring you didn't miss a single bite.
When he finally began to fall back against the couch cushions, panting like a predator after a kill, the harshness in his voice softened for a split second, turning into something almost tender, in a perverse way. One large, rough hand dropped to caress your cheek, smearing tears and saliva across your skin.
"Good girl," he growled, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, watching you swallow. "There's my pretty doll. Look at you, taking it all like a true champion."
The adrenaline and terror finally began to wear off as the aftermath set in, leaving you lifeless and exhausted. However, Ben didn't leave you on the floor. With a rough groan, he leaned over and picked you up, settling your trembling body onto his lap. He held you like his favorite doll, one arm possessively wrapped around your waist as you pressed yourself against his broad chest.
The room was now silent, broken only by his heavy, contented breathing and the occasional sound of your own breathing as you tried to calm down. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling with a lazy, arrogant smirk on his face. His fingers slid lazily, almost absentmindedly, down your thigh, leaving barely noticeable red marks where his grip had been too tight.
"Fuck, you're chaos, y/n," he muttered, his voice trembling behind you. The vulgarity was still there, but the unbridled aggression had given way to a smug, contented purr. "But you're my chaos."
He shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were pressed against him, his nose brushing your temple. "I'll buy you so much fucking lingerie," he growled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "All that pretty lace stuff. Just so I can watch you walk around in it in front of me every damn day. Make sure you remember who you belong to every time you see your reflection."
Ben was your father's closest friend - always gruff, always wearing that familiar look of irritation, as if the whole world existed solely to test his patience. And yet, for you, there had always been something softer beneath that rough exterior, something unspoken and strangely comforting. He had known you since you were a child, had watched you grow up year by year, always lingering somewhere in the background of your life like an immovable shadow.
Ben was always there. He was the one who pulled you out of trouble when your recklessness got the better of you, the one who covered for you when your father was moments away from finding out what you had done. Any boy foolish enough to get too close was quickly sent away with a single cold look or a few sharp words from him. When you were little, he let you curl up on his lap during late-night movies, his large hand absentmindedly stroking your back while you fought sleep. On the nights when nightmares drove you from your bed, it was often Ben who calmed you down, his low voice and steady presence easing your fears. Sometimes he would take you along with him, just the two of you, letting you spend the day by his side in a way that always felt special, even if he never said much.
And even after you grew older, Ben never stopped coming by. He still visited your father, still filled your house with his imposing presence, still carried that same infuriating arrogance that made him impossible to ignore. Somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you realized your feelings had changed. What had once been childish admiration had turned into something deeper, warmer, and far more dangerous.
It was impossible not to notice him. He was far too attractive for a man his age, broad-shouldered and strong, with a body that time had only sharpened rather than diminished. You found yourself wondering, far too often, what those large, rough hands might feel like if they ever touched you differently. He was handsome in a way that was almost unfair - too self-assured, too smug, too much of a bastard for his own good. From the stories he casually told his friends late in the evening, it was clear that finding women had never been difficult for him. Yet no woman had ever stayed by his side for long. They came and went, and Ben remained Ben - untouchable, unreadable, and entirely his own.
And around him, you were hopeless.
Every time he stood too close, every time you sat beside him, every time he spoke to you in that low, teasing voice, your breath seemed to catch in your throat. You would bite your lip, look away, feel heat rising to your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to remain calm. He loved to toy with you, calling you sweet girl or doll in the same indulgent tone he had used when you were younger, as though he knew exactly what those words did to you now. And of course, he noticed. Ben noticed everything. He saw the way your pretty eyes refused to meet his for long, the way your hands fidgeted, the way your whole body betrayed your nervousness. He only answered it with that faint, knowing smirk that made your heart race even faster.
Still, he never crossed the line.
Perhaps because you were too young in his eyes, too innocent. Perhaps because you were his best friend's daughter, the one boundary even a man like Ben would not dare step over.
But not tonight.
That evening, the house was full of men - your father's old friends gathered together, voices loud, laughter heavier with each drink poured. The air smelled of expensive liquor, cigar smoke, and polished wood. When you stepped out of your room and made your way toward the kitchen, all soft footsteps and quiet grace, the conversation blurred into a low hum around you. You greeted everyone with that same sweet, shy politeness they all adored, unaware of how easily you shifted the atmosphere just by entering the room.
Ben stood by the marble counter, one shoulder resting against it as he slowly stirred the amber liquid in his glass. The motion was lazy, practiced, almost absent-minded, but it did nothing to disguise the sharpness in his gaze. He half-listened to your father's endless talk of business schemes and half-forgotten war stories, offering the occasional nod at the right moment, though his mind had long since drifted elsewhere.
And then he heard you.
The soft click of your steps against the wooden floor. The gentle sound of your voice.
And just like that, every other thought in his head disappeared.
Then he saw you.
The way your miniskirt rode up as you leaned forward, revealing your legs, your miniskirt slightly loose, and those damn legs—the kind he couldn't stop thinking about when he was alone with a joint—made his throat go dry. He sipped his drink slowly, but his gaze never left the curve of your buttocks as you reached for the lemonade. A muscle twitched in his jaw. God, you're not the little doll he once protected from the neighborhood brats, are you? You've become something dangerous. Something made his pulse pound in his chest harder than it had felt since he'd last seen you. The alcohol clouded his judgment.
"Ben? Are you even listening, you old bastard?" your father barked, clapping him on the shoulder.
Ben didn't flinch, though his grip on his glass tightened. He forced a smirk, though it didn't quite reach his green eyes. "Yes, yes, keep talking. I'm listening. I'm simply admiring the hospitality in this house." His voice was hoarse, rougher than he intended. His gaze slid shamelessly over you for a moment before he turned to your father, though his thoughts were already elsewhere, imagining what those thighs would feel like wrapped around his waist.
A few hours had passed since the party. The house was buzzing, smelling of alcohol and cigarette smoke. You were about to head out to meet your friends. You walked quickly and smoothly in your miniskirt, holding your phone in your hand, heading for the exit.
The noise of the party faded, replaced by a dull hum behind you, when Ben intercepted you near the foyer. He walked with a measured, heavy gait—the gait of a man who knew he owned every space he entered. Up close, he smelled of expensive bourbon and that sharp, earthy hint of marijuana that always lingered on his clothes—a scent that usually meant trouble, but to you, it was just *him*.
"Where are you going in such a hurry, baby?" Ben asked, striding straight toward you. He didn't care about personal space; he never did. He towered over you, his height casting a shadow that seemed to swallow you whole. The dim light of the hallway reflected the green of his eyes, making them darker and more expressive than when he was pretending to listen to your father.
His gaze lowered shamelessly, watching the way your skirt swayed as you fidgeted nervously. He knew exactly what he was doing, enjoying the way your breath caught in your throat. "Your old man is already half drunk and passed out in his chair."
You smiled tenderly at him, still slightly flushed and stunned by his change of mood. Standing opposite him, you said, "He's just tired; he had a good evening thanks to you, Ben. I'm going to see some friends and I really need to go." You smiled at him one last time as you left. His sudden grip was firm, not enough to bruise, but undeniable in its strength, and before you could gasp, the world turned upside down. Ben, with surprising agility for a man his age, pulled you back, dragging you into a shadowed alcove just off the main foyer, where the din of the party faded to distant whispers. The rough plaster of the wall dug into your back as he pinned you against it, his massive frame completely enclosing you.
"You're not going anywhere, damn it," he growled, his breath hot in your ear. The charming smirk vanished, replaced by something far more primal and hungry. His green eyes burned with such intensity that your knees buckled, his gaze tracing your face before settling on your lips. "You think you can show me off your damn legs all night and then walk out the door like nothing happened?"
He leaned closer, pressing his full weight against yours, making you feel every inch of his imposing frame. One of his hands released your wrist and rested on the wall next to your head, while the other rose to trace the curve of your jaw with surprising tenderness, even as his thumb pressed firmly against your bottom lip.
"You're blushing again, baby. What's wrong?" he provoked, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper that vibrated in your chest. "Nervous?" Or do you like it when I corner you like this?
You gasped, looking at him. You'd dreamed about this in your room at night, but you weren't ready for it to be reality. You couldn't even take your eyes off him.
"Ben... I...".
He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "It's crazy, your old man is passed out while his best friend is corrupting you." The heat from his body was unbearable, he pressed you so hard against the wall that you felt every hard line of his body. Your pussy grew wetter at his words. Ben leaned even lower, his stubble brushing against the sensitive lobe of your ear. "I bet your little pussy is so wet already, sweetheart," your cheeks burned with the heat of his dirty words, you bit your plush lip as one of his hands wandered up your skirt.
He didn't wait.
In one motion, Ben grabbed your face for a kiss. The kiss was anything but gentle. It was rough, forceful, with a hint of bourbon—a clash of teeth and tongue that left you dizzy. When he pressed his knees between your thighs, the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to your soul, causing your legs to nearly give way. The sound of your own moan escaping you seemed alien, muffled by his lips as he smirked into the kiss, relishing your surrender. You desperately clutched his shoulders, responding and keeping up with his pace.
When he finally pulled away, the cool air of the alcove felt like ice on your heated skin. You were in a terrible state; your hair was disheveled, your breathing shallow and ragged, and your lips swollen and tender where he'd bitten you. You couldn't even form a coherent thought; your brain had turned to static and heat.
The phone rang again, its insistent buzz a sharp reminder of the real world beyond this shadowed corner.
Ben hadn't moved, still looming over you with predatory satisfaction. He looked down at you as if you were something he'd just hacked, his green eyes dark with amusement and something far hungrier. "Pick it up," he said, his voice rough and utterly unrepentant. "Your brats are probably waiting for you." He pushed his chest against you dismissively, though his gaze lingered one last time on your lips, his hands gripping your hips, moving up to your ass, squeezing it. "Don't waste time, doll, or your old man's gonna wake up." Ben walked away from you and headed back to the living room to his friends who were happily shouting his name and patting him on the shoulder while you, a mess with a wet pussy, were left standing there confused but smiling.
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Ben was worn out by the relentless pace of missions. A brief, silent break in the middle of the desert was all he needed, and all you wanted. However, your desire for his company concealed a deeper need: a burning need to learn to defend yourself. You'd seen Ben and the others in action countless times; their strength was undeniable. But you craved this ability for yourself, especially so Ben wouldn't have to worry about your vulnerability while he was on missions. The solution: a secluded cabin, his own private hideaway deep in the woods.
One evening, as the fire cast dancing shadows, you settled into his lap, the scent of whiskey mingling with the smoke from the fire. Your "old man" sipped his drink. You kissed his temple, and the words escaped him in a soft, determined sigh: "Teach me how to fight."
Ben took a long, slow sip of whiskey from his glass, the amber liquid reflecting in the firelight, and downed the rest. He exhaled heavily, the alcohol taking effect immediately. When you pressed this request to his temple, he paused for a second, simply staring into the dancing flames with his tired green eyes.
"Teach you to fight?" he repeated, lowering his voice to a hoarse, sarcastic tone. He laughed harshly, humorlessly, turning his head to look at you. "What, you think this is some fucking movie? You think you'll be that tough?"
He set the glass down on the coffee table with a loud clang that echoed far too loudly throughout the quiet cabin. His grip on your waist tightened, not painfully, but enough to remind you of the incredible strength contained in those muscular arms. He pulled you closer, his breath smelling of whiskey and tobacco.
"A real fight isn't pretty, baby. It's dirty, it's fucking mean, and it's mostly a matter of who's willing to be the biggest asshole in the room." He chuckled, that arrogant, self-absorbed glint returning to his eyes. "But if you're fucking serious about this... fine. But don't come crying to me when you're walking around with a broken nail or lying on the floor."
You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him tighter, "Just a couple of lessons, Ben. You wouldn't want me left alone without protection while you're on a mission, would you?"
Ben snorted in annoyance when you rolled your eyes, but he couldn't hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He hated your stubborn ways, mostly because they reminded him too much of himself. He raised his hand, cupping your jaw almost tenderly with one large, calloused palm, then ran his thumb roughly over your bottom lip.
"Damn stubborn girl, huh?" he muttered, though his voice held less venom than usual. "Okay. Let's start with the basics before I decide to let that sweet ass stay on me."
He shifted his weight, slid off the couch to stand, and pulled you with him. The firelight cast long, impressive shadows across his muscular body. He grabbed your wrists, guiding your small hands upward until your knuckles were in line with his chest.
"Lesson one: don't be a coward. Don't wait for some idiot to jump you; hit him first. Hard." He backed up just enough to give you space, rolling his shoulders as if he were preparing for a real, damn fight. "Put some force into it, sweetheart. Clench your fist tight, don't break your fingers, and aim for the nose or throat. The nose hurts, the throat paralyzes."
His eyes stared at yours, unblinking. "Go ahead. Hit me. Show me you really mean it, and aren't just playing dress-up."
You smirk at him, ball your fist like he said, stand right in front of him, and swing hard. The impact of your fist against his palm in the quiet hut sounds like a wet slap. Ben doesn't even flinch; it's like his hand hit a fucking brick wall. With lightning-fast reflexes, he catches your wrist mid-swing, his grip squeezing your bones until you feel the heat of his palm through your skin. His face remains impassive, almost bored, but his eyes blaze with a familiar predatory intensity.
"Damn, what a mindset, but your technique is crap," he growled, lowering his voice an octave. "You swing like you're trying to pet a damn cat, sweetheart. You should be punching through the target, not just hitting it."
He didn't let go of your wrist. Instead, he jerked you forward, forcing your body into his hard, muscular chest. The sudden movement stole your breath for half a second. He towered over you, his superior height making you feel small, his breath hot in your ear.
"And you left your damn chin exposed. Any slacker could have punched you right there and knocked you out." He pulled back just enough to look down at you, a smug, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "You want to learn how to fight? Then stop fooling around and do it. Don't hesitate next time. If you hesitate, you're done for."
You snorted in irritation, looked at him, and said, "Maybe because my teacher is a boring old man?" You wrenched your hand from his grasp and aimed at him again, this time with your foot. Ben froze in his half-smile, his eyebrows rising at the insult. "A boring old man?" he repeated, his voice laced with incredulous irony. "My God, such impudence, Princess." A dangerous glint flickered in his green eyes—not so much anger as that competitive, arrogant streak that always surfaced when provoked. "Be careful what you wish for. I might start acting my age and show you how damn cruel that is."
Before you could even process the threat, you lunged forward, aiming a kick at his ribs. But Ben was a veteran of countless battles, a man who had lived through decades of Russian experiments and damn world wars. His reflexes were inhumanly fast.
He didn't just block the blow; he anticipated it. With effort, he stepped into your space, hooking your leg with his thigh to halt the movement, then grabbed your calf with his forearm. The sudden stop threw you off balance, but he kept you from falling. His other arm wrapped around your waist like a vice, pinning you to his strong body.
"Damn it, you'll break your ankle trying to kick like that," he barked, though a hoarse laugh vibrated in his chest. "You need to keep your balance. If you swing your leg like a pendulum, without support, you're just asking to be fucked."
He held you there for a moment, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "That was better. More fucking aggression." His grip loosened, becoming playful, but his smirk remained smug. "But if you want to play dirty, you have to learn to take the hits. Think you can handle it?"
"I can handle it, old man," you snorted, looking at him. Ben let out a rough, barking laugh that echoed off the walls of the hut and shook his head, genuinely disbelieving your impudence. "Old man? You're fucking wrong, you know that?" Despite the insult, there was something almost amused in his expression—the very challenge he lived for. He loved your fire; it was the only thing that kept him from getting bored.
"Okay, since you're so damn confident, let's see how that pretty mouth of yours can handle being suffocated." His smirk turned hungry, and his stance regained its commanding, predatory edge. He didn't let go of your waist; instead, he tightened his arms around you, pressing you so tightly that there wasn't a centimeter of space left between your bodies.
"You think you can handle me?" he asked thoughtfully, his voice dropping to a dangerous, hoarse whisper. "Most people would shit themselves trying. You're playing with fire, baby."
Suddenly, he shifted his weight, using his superior strength to move you. In one smooth, aggressive movement, he tripped your legs, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send you tumbling backward onto the soft carpet in front of the fireplace. Before you could rise, he was on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head with one massive hand. His knees gripped your hips, trapping you completely beneath his muscular body.
"Here's your first lesson in proper combat, sweetheart," he growled, looming over you like a shadow, his eyes dark with amusement and something far more carnal. "When you screw up, you're going to be pinned down by someone bigger, stronger, and who knows exactly how to break you."
You smile, biting your lip and giggling, "But you won't let that happen, will you, soldier boy?" Ben chuckles softly, and you feel it vibrate in your chest. Your laughter was the last thing he expected after you'd tried to attack him just seconds earlier, but it worked, disarming him in a way only you could. He looked down at you, your hair scattered across the carpet like tangled silk, your cheeks flushed from the strain and heat of the fire.
"Damn, what a manipulative little brat you are, aren't you?" he muttered, though there wasn't a hint of malice in his words. His grip on your wrists didn't loosen, but the aggression was replaced by something dense, heavy, and unmistakably aroused. "Using your sweet smile to get yourself out of trouble. That's a dangerous game with a man like me."
He leaned closer, his nose brushing yours, his breath hot and faintly scented with whiskey. "And don't call me that. Only the idiots and bastards at Vought who want something from me call me that." His green eyes darkened as he slid over your features, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes.
"As for whether I'll let that happen...you're right about one thing, doll. I won't let anyone touch you. Anyone who tries to lay a finger on you will find out just how screwed I can be." He shifted his hips slightly, pressing the hard surface of his thigh deeper between yours. "For now, I'll let you think you're winning, baby. But don't get cocky. In a real fight, I'd gut you before you could blink." The corner of his mouth curled into that signature, arrogant smirk. "But since we're here… maybe I'll let you keep pretending. For a little while."
He releases his grip on your wrists, and you suddenly wrap your legs around his waist like a snake. "Don't even think about giving in." You look at him playfully. Ben grunted in surprise when you suddenly wrapped your legs around his waist, the movement so fast it almost caught him off guard. His eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed, taking on a darker, more dangerous hue. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline when you challenged him, the same one that usually precedes a hell of a shootout or a bar fight.
"Don't give in?" he repeated, his voice hoarse, as if he were grinding stone. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what you're asking for."
He didn't back down. Instead, he pressed himself harder against you, his weight pinning you to the carpet, his forearms bracing against either side of your head. His smug, self-absorbed smirk returned, but there was a rough, hungry edge to it. He loved this defiance; it made the subsequent surrender even sweeter.
"You think you're in control here just because you've got your legs wrapped around me?" He let out a rough, mocking laugh, his green eyes gliding over your face, taking in your flushed skin and tousled hair. "You're just making it easier for me to fuck you senseless, doll."
One of his hands left the carpet and slid down your shoulder, his rough palm skimming possessively over your ribs before settling on your hip, squeezing hard enough to leave light bruises. "You want to play unfairly? Fine. But don't you dare start whining and begging me to stop when I decide to stop playing fair."
You grabbed the hand that was holding your hip and said directly into his mouth, "Actually, the lesson isn't over yet, sir." At the word "sir," Ben's eyes flashed. He made a sound somewhere between a growl and a bloody choke, his pupils dilating, and the green of his irises turning into a thin, electrifying ring. This particular brand of defiance, wrapped in submission, was precisely the kind of psychological warfare he couldn't resist. It struck him right at the wounded, complex core of his masculinity.
"Damn it," he croaked, his voice trembling slightly with the effort. "You really do know how to push all my bloody buttons, don't you?"
He didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed closer, his hips moving purposefully against yours, letting you feel the full force of that little word that had such an effect on him. The cocky, arrogant Superman was still there, but beneath that soldier lurked something more primal, something that knew exactly how to get what it wanted.
"The lesson isn't over yet, is it?" He leaned down until his lips touched yours, teasing you with the touch, not giving you the chance to kiss you fully. His grip on your thigh tightened painfully, his fingers digging into your skin. "You think you're in charge now?"
A slow, sinister smirk spread across his face as he deliberately lowered his head to bite the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulder met, leaving a mark that would surely linger until tomorrow. "Alright, princess. Since you're so eager to learn… let's see if you can handle the advanced course."
His hand slid up from your hip, tangling roughly in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your neck completely. He wanted you vulnerable; he wanted to see that sweet face break under the weight of what he was about to do. The firelight played across his stubble as he pulled away from your neck just long enough to meet your gaze again, his expression somewhere between amusement and pure, unadulterated lust.
"First rule of the advanced course," he growled, his thumb brushing hard across your bottom lip, causing it to sting. "You have no right to make demands unless you're willing to accept whatever punishment comes with them."
He shifted his weight, deliberately flipping you onto your stomach in one powerful motion. Before you could protest, he settled between your thighs, his heavy body pinning you to the ground. The rough texture of the carpet pressed against your skin as he leaned in, whispering directly into your ear in a voice like gravel beneath his boots.
"Now stay still and shut up, doll. Let's see how long you can keep that sharp mouth of yours open before you're too busy screaming my name."
"You're insufferable, Benjamin!" Ben laughed hoarsely at the sound of you calling him by his first name, but he didn't soften at all. On the contrary, the sound only seemed to fuel his narcissism. "Insufferable? No, honey, I'm damn perfect. You're just not used to getting what you want."
The way you bit your lip didn't escape his notice; he watched your teeth sink into your soft flesh with such greedy intensity that his own pulse pounded wildly in his chest. He loved seeing you flustered, loved knowing he was the one responsible for that pleasant blush creeping up your neck.
"And stop whining," he growled, though his smirk remained incredibly smug as he pressed his chest deeper into your back, making sure you felt every inch of his hard muscle. "You're my doll, y/n. And dolls don't need to be damn good at fighting. They just need to sit there, look pretty, and let you do all the dirty work."
His hand moved from your hair to your spine, his palm, rough and warm, tracing the curves of your body. The arrogance in his tone was so thick it was choking, a classic manifestation of his conviction that he was the center of the damn universe.
You moan softly as he moves his large hands to your breasts, then lowers himself onto your stomach, still hovering over you with your cheek pressed to the floor. Ben heard that soft moan, and it sounded like fucking gasoline on an open fire. His pupils dilated as he watched your back arch beneath him, your body betraying every bit of the tough girl you'd been playing all evening. The sound of your surrender was sweeter than any damn whiskey he'd ever drank.
"That's it," he rasped, his voice dropping to that dark, husky timbre that meant he was done playing games. "Make that sound again."
His large hands continued their slow, measured descent, his palms sliding across your skin with enough force to make you feel completely his. As his hands moved to your stomach, settling possessively on your hips, he pressed his pelvis hard against your ass, reminding you who was in charge. He loved the contrast between your soft, tender body and his large, hardened frame.
"You can pretend you're learning to fight all you want, baby," he murmured, leaning down so his bearded jaw brushed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "But we both know you'd rather be here, pressed against me like this, begging me to fuck you senseless."
He exhaled heavily, tightening his grip on your hips as he shifted, preparing to take what was his. "Now stop whining and take it like a good girl. Lessons are over. Now we're going to do what you really like."
Ben didn't waste a second. His large hand moved from your hip to your jaw, his fingers rough and vicious, forcing you to turn your head and meet his gaze one last time. His green eyes were filled with a terrifying hunger, but he didn't give you time to process it before he smashed his mouth onto yours.
This wasn't a gentle kiss; this was a fucking invasion. He kissed you like he was claiming territory, like he was reminding you who owned every damn inch of you. His tongue pierced your lips with aggressive force, demanding access, and when you moaned into his mouth, the sound seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his inhibitions.
"Fuck, baby," he growled against your lips, the words muffled and hoarse. Your moan was like fuel for his fire, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to his cock. He loved your taste, your response to his touch, the way his rough hands could easily bring you to orgasm.
He deepened the kiss, his teeth lightly grazing your bottom lip, which was both painful and incredibly pleasurable. One hand remained pressed to your jaw, holding you still, while the other slid down between your bodies, his palm pressing hard against the heat building between your thighs. He wanted to hear you scream, wanted to feel you tremble beneath him as he took everything you had to give.
"That's it, girl," he whispered breathlessly between kisses, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Moan for me. Let me hear how much you want it."
Ben's patience had completely evaporated. With one powerful, impatient thrust, he pushed you to the floor again, your chest pressing hard against the rough fibers of the carpet. He no longer cared how soft your clothes were; the brazen soldier had given way to something far more primal and demanding. His large hand spread across the center of your back, pinning you to the floor as if you were nothing more than prey he'd finally cornered.
The sound of your shorts and wet panties being ripped off resounded loudly in the quiet cabin. He tossed them aside without thinking, his breathing ragged and heavy, his sighs echoing across your bare skin.
"Look at you," he growled, his voice laced with a rough, possessive satisfaction. "Fucking helpless. Is this what you wanted, doll?"
As he leaned down to press his lips to your ass, the heat of his breath made you shudder violently. His stubble brushed against your skin as he kissed you there, but there was no tenderness in sight. Instead, he accompanied each wet, lewd contact with a stream of filthy comments that made your blood boil and your stomach ache.
"Bet you'll be covered in my fucking bruises by morning, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing his skin against yours, his teeth grazing your thigh. "All red and bruised, so everyone knows exactly who you belong to. You'll be a terrible mess when I'm done with you. A beautiful, broken little mess."
He pulled back just enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze on your bare buttock before shifting his position to take you fully. "Now hold still and take it." I won't ask twice."
Ben held your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh like iron fire as he lifted your buttocks higher, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable beneath him. The shift in position made you feel dangerously unsteady, but there was no stopping the pace he had set. When he lowered his head between your thighs, the first touch of his tongue was like an electric shock throughout your body.
"Fuck, you're soaking wet," he growled, pressing against your sensitive skin, his breath hot and moist. "Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."
The moment his tongue slid over your clit, you lost control. A loud, uncontrollable moan escaped your throat as your hips involuntarily arched toward his face. The pleasure was overwhelming, too intense for your body to process. You began moaning, making those high, desperate sounds that only seemed to excite him further. You were panting, your lungs burning, struggling to catch your breath between the waves of sensation he was deliberately eliciting.
"That's it, good girl, make fucking sounds," he muttered, his voice muffled by your damp skin but still retaining that rough, commanding edge. "I want the whole damn house to hear how good I make you feel."
He didn't slow down; instead, he became even more aggressive, his tongue working with a punishing rhythm that pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He loved hearing you break, hearing that confident little sparkler turn into a whining, gasping mass under his tongue. He wanted to get you to the point where you couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only feel the raw, unfiltered need he was squeezing out of you.
Ben let out a hoarse, satisfied groan, pulling away from your wet folds, watching your body continue to tremble from what he'd done to you. Without missing a beat, he hooked his fingers around your entrance and, without hesitation, inserted two thick fingers inside. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your hips instinctively jerking at the intrusion.
"Fuck, baby... look at you," he growled in a low, dangerous rasp, leaning down to whisper directly into your ear. "You're such a fucking slut. Just from pinning you to this damn carpet and touching you like this, you're already dripping wet. You're so fucking turned on by me, it's pathetic."
His fingers began to move inside you with a brutal, relentless rhythm, stretching you and working you with the experience of a man who knew exactly how to elicit a maximum response. He wasn't gentle; he was possessing you, leaving his mark inside.
"Open up, baby," he commanded harshly. Before you could process what was happening, he pulled his slick, wet fingers from your vagina and pressed them to your lips. "Suck them. I want you to taste what you're doing to me."
The command left no room for argument. His eyes, dark and challenging, locked onto yours as he forced his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your own arousal, mingled with the saltiness of his skin, filled your senses. "That's it, swallow it all," he murmured, a sinister, arrogant smirk spreading across his face as he watched you submit. "Every last drop." Show me what a good girl you can be."
Ben watched you through narrowed eyes, a dark, twisted sense of satisfaction clenching in his stomach as he watched you cry and suck on his slick fingers. The vulnerability in your expression, the way you looked utterly exhausted, was better than any drug he'd ever taken. When he finally pulled them from your mouth with a wet pop, he didn't give you a second to rest before moving on to the next step.
"Fuck, that's it," he growled, his voice shaking with impatience. The metallic click of his belt unbuckling resounded loudly in the quiet room. He quickly removed his pants and briefs, pushing them down past his muscular thighs until he stood, his cock already hard, thick and wicked-looking.
He didn't enter you right away. Instead, he lowered his between your legs again, his rough fingers delving into your swollen folds again, gathering evidence of how much you wanted him. He brought those glistening fingers to his cock, slowly and deliberately stroking it along the length of your cum.
"You see that?" he murmured, his breathing becoming increasingly ragged as he moved, the wet sounds of his hand sliding over his cock filling the space between you. "You're so fucking desperate, you're practically begging me to destroy you. You're so fucking wet, you're fucking helping me get ready."
He leaned over you, his shadow engulfing you as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock penetrating your pussy. "One more sound like that, and I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget your own fucking name."
Ben, fucking hell, didn't wait for you to adjust. With one brutal, uncompromising thrust, he slammed his cock all the way into you, so hard it felt like he was trying to rip you in half. The suddenness of the thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, and you pressed yourself against the carpet, gasping for breath. His other hand shot out, fingers tangling roughly in the hair at the back of your head, pressing your face to the floor until your cheek pressed painfully against him.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his voice shaking with unbridled need. "Fuck."
A painful, desperate moan escaped your throat as you bit hard on your plush lower lip, trying to stifle the sound, but it was no use. He felt every shudder running through your body, every involuntary spasm of muscles trying to obey him. The cocky soldier was gone, replaced by something far more relentless—a man driven by pure, unadulterated lust.
As you tried to grab onto something, your hand caught on the carpet, and he intercepted it. His grip was iron as he grabbed your wrist, twisting it and pinning your arm behind your back in a pinning hold. Now you were completely immobilized, pinned between his crushing weight and the floor.
"Don't try to pull away from me," he rasped in your ear, his hips beginning to move in a torturous, piston-like rhythm. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, aimed at driving you wild. "Stay here, damn it. Take every inch of this."
The wet, slapping sounds of his pelvis slamming against yours echoed off the walls as he increased his pace, his breathing becoming ragged, animalistic wheezes. "That's it, whine for me, doll. Let me hear how much you fucking love it."
The sound of your sobbing moans and the wet slap of his skin against yours was what Ben needed to overcome the last of his inhibitions. Seeing tears streaming down your cheeks, not from pain but from this all-consuming, sensual overload, drove him crazy. He loved breaking you; he loved watching this beautiful, confident girl turn into a tearful, desperate plea under his weight.
"Fuck, yes, cry for me, baby," he growled, biting his teeth into your bottom lip so hard, watching his cock disappear inside you with each crushing thrust. The sight of your flesh stretching around him was pure pornography.
When you finally broke, your voice trembled as you screamed his name and announced your orgasm. "Ben... I'm cumming!..." Ben felt his own control snap like a fucking wire. "That's it! Take it all!" he roared. He didn't slow down when you began to thrash around him; instead, he pressed his huge, sweat-covered chest against your back, pinning you even harder to the floor. He thrust into you with animalistic fury, his hips pumping like pistons in a fucking engine.
"Fuck." His smug smirk vanished, replaced by a mask of unbridled, desperate pleasure. The orgasm washed over him like a freight train, furious and all-consuming. He let out a guttural, primal cry as he gave one last thrust, giving it all he had, pouring his hot seed deep into you in thick, relentless waves.
He collapsed on top of you, his heavy body pinning you to the carpet, both of you panting like you'd just run a fucking marathon. His heart pounded against your back. "Fuck me," he rasped in your ear, his voice broken and dirty. "You're fucking incredible, girl."
After all that roughness, Ben changed with surprising fluidity. That rough, predatory beast retreated, leaving behind something that almost resembled the man he'd been before everything went to hell. In one fluid motion, he pulled away from your bodies and reached for your hand, turning it over to place gentle, lingering kisses on your knuckles and then your forehead.
For a moment, the rough Soldier vanished, replaced by that rare, almost impossible tenderness he reserved only for you. "You don't need to learn to fight, y/n," he muttered hoarsely, but without the usual harshness. "Such a pretty doll shouldn't do such crap. I'll give you a damn gun to keep you safe while I'm gone."
When you summoned the courage to smile weakly, "Boring." He didn't look angry. Instead, he chuckled softly and kissed you on the lips—a truly sweet, almost frighteningly sweet kiss. "You really irritate me, you know that?" he chuckled.
Then his stomach growled, and hunger flashed in his eyes again. "Come on, sweetheart. I want that damn pie you baked me this morning. Don't make me wait, I'm starving."
He leaned down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. But instead of kissing, he began to gently, teasingly run his coarse beard over your sensitive skin. "Damn, it tickles, doesn't it?" he teased, his breath hot against your ear. You giggled involuntarily, trying to escape from under his prickly stubble.
"Ben!"
He simply laughed, pressing you to his warm, firm chest.
The party was deafening. Somewhere in the kitchen, your father was probably laughing loudly with his friends. The bass from the speakers shook the floor like a fucking heartbeat, filling the entire house with a sense of life and chaos. You slipped away to hide from the noise, seeking silence in the dimly lit hallway at the back of the house, but peace was not to be found.
Before you could even breathe fresh air, a heavy, muscular figure slammed into you, pinning you against the wall. The familiar scent of gunpowder, expensive tobacco, and something special filled your senses. Ben. Your father's oldest friend, a man who had seen more of life than most, loomed over you, his green eyes dark with something far more dangerous than mere irritation.
"Damn it, kid, you keep running like some scared rabbit," Ben growled in your ear, his breath hot and faintly scented with bourbon. His hands, roughened from decades of battle and violence, gripped your hips so tightly they left marks. "You think you can just disappear?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His lips crashed down on yours, not with tenderness, but with a greedy, possessive desperation. It wasn't a gentle request; it was a fucking takeover. His tongue slid past your lips, claiming your mouth, while his body pressed you harder against the wall, making it clear who was boss.
His teeth grazed your bottom lip before he dived back into the kiss, deepening it until your head was spinning. You could hear your father's muffled cries and laughter coming from the kitchen just a few rooms away, but Ben didn't seem to care. If anything, the proximity to danger made him even more reckless, his thumb sliding roughly across your jaw as he greedily devoured every inch of your mouth. You moaned softly, sweetly, clinging to him.
"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his lips to yours when he finally pulled back just an inch, his breathing ragged and uneven. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, huh?" His eyes raked over your face, his pupils dilated with something dark and unrepentant. "Your old man would kill me if he saw this shit."
A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, more predatory than playful. He leaned closer, pressing his hard chest against yours so you could feel every inch of his impressive body. "But screw him. And screw this party." His hand slid from your hip to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head back. "You're staying here with me, do you hear me? Don't you fucking dare move."
The sound of your soft moan, pressed against his lips, seemed to ignite something primal within him. Ben let out a low, guttural growl deep in his throat—a sound that was simultaneously satisfying and hungry. He didn't pull away; instead, he pressed his lips to yours again, harder this time, his kiss becoming more demanding as he felt you melt in his embrace. His hips pressed against yours, giving you undeniable proof of how much he wanted you, right in the middle of some fucking party.
"Fuck," he hissed, pressing his lips to yours, his breathing ragged and uneven. "That's it, sweetheart. Make that sound again."
His right hand moved from your neck, sliding down the curve of your spine until his palm pressed against your buttocks, squeezing the flesh possessively. Then, without warning, his other hand slid up. You felt the warmth of his palm slip under the hem of your skirt, the rough calluses on his fingers sending an electric shock straight up your thighs. When his hand finally touched your skin, his touch wasn't gentle, but possessive, hot and heavy as he began to explore.
"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice dropping to a rough, husky whisper that vibrated against your skin. You both breathed as if you'd just run a damn marathon, your lungs burning as you shared the same hot air. The muffled chaos of your father's laughter from the kitchen seemed like a distant, distant memory compared to the overwhelming reality of Ben's body pinning you against the wall.
His fingers tightened on your thigh, climbing higher, inch by agonizing inch. "You like this, don't you?" " he demanded, his green eyes fixed on yours with frightening intensity. "Do you like having your damn hands full with a man like me?"
"I fucking know you're doing this," he growled, reading the way your pupils dilated as his fingers neared your core. "Don't lie to me, baby. I can feel how fucking desperate you are."
He leaned down, biting roughly at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, sucking so hard he left a mark that would be impossible to cover tomorrow. He wanted you marked. He wanted every inch of you to bear the marks of what he'd done while your old man was busy drowning himself in cheap bourbon just twenty feet away. The risk of being caught by someone walking around the corner and seeing his best friend fucking his daughter against the fucking wall only fueled his savagery further.
Finally, his fingers touched your wet cunt, and he let out a low, guttural curse, almost like a prayer. "Damn... you're soaking wet with need for me." He pulled back just enough to smirk at you, that arrogant, self-absorbed smirk that made you hate how much you wanted him. "I guess you've been thinking about this as much as I have."
