I think about Naive!Reader and Fresh Out of Prison!Simon on the subway.
cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw.
And how he’d make naive!reader sit in his lap when he notices and older woman standing in subway isle.
“Thank you, both of you.” The older woman giggles as she takes the empty seat.
“‘S no problem ma’am.” Simon nods, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “She’s so cute isnt she love?”
You can’t even focus, his hardened erection pressing into your ass, in those jeans that Simon loves so much. Couldnt stop staring at the way your thighs spread as you sat down, every curve on you, that charm you have in your brown eyes. You wiggle in his lap but he only presses you down harder, he tsks in your ear, “Don’t move baby, or everyone ‘ere will see just what you do t’me.”
You feel him grow with every shake of the train against you, only smirking as he sees the way you can’t look anyone near you in the eye, heat rising under your skin with that slightly tense look on your face. You try your best to give a smile and wave to the old woman but Simons hands roll down your skin, down your your thighs that makes chills run down your spine, “Bloody hell, can’t wait t’ get off of ‘ere, fuck you right against the wall in the alley across the street from our stop, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Your lips purse out, breath hitching, “Simon!”
“ ‘F Course you would doll,” he draws out, calloused hands going to your hips, giving them a nice squeeze, humping up into you, “Or should I have you keep keep my cock warm right here, sliding it in your hole so eeeeveryone can see that pretty face you only make with me-“
You can’t help the little mewl you let out, his covered manhood pressing against your cunt, “Simon-“
“—I know, I know swee’art,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “Won’t do tha’ to ya.”
The subway rattles again and you bite the inside of your lips, nervous eyes flickering down into the mahogany brown eyes staring back at you. Glint shimmering in them.
“Not here, anyway.”
Simon lets his hand caress the apple of your cheeks from behind, squeeze them together that makes him chuckle, “Would you let me take you to the bathroom though? Hm love?”
You play with your fingers, checking the time on your phone, before muttering so quietly, “For j-just a little bit, I don’t wanna miss my show tonight.”
And the older man underneath you groans happily, eyes crinkling, rubbing his hand up and down your back, you’ve made the man go red in the face, “M just jokin baby, god, you’re so fuckin loveable.”
Soap could hear you throw your purse down and the door slam as soon as you came in, a disgruntled groan loud over the music playing from him room. It must’ve been serious, because usually you’re more composted. Of course, Soap is taking a break from organizing his favorite videos of you on his hard drive to save the day and see what’s wrong, he always does.
Soap can’t help but watch you with a light smirk on his face, watching you pace the floor of the living room as you ramble how ‘people shouldn’t be so rude’ and ‘You work your ass off and no one came to defend you’ and ‘Everyone thinks they know everything.’ A stomp of your foot here, clench fists there, your eyebrows all knit uo— so damn adorable.
“Ye know bon,” Soap starts, “they say sex can help ye relax when ye have a lot ‘f stress.”
You freeze, remembering the last time Soap swayed you. Your thighs squeeze together from where you stand, eyes widening, “But roommates can’t- roommates don’t have sex.”
Not yet. The scott just hasn’t convinced you, soon though.
“But we’re best friends swee’art, ‘s different. Aren’t I there f’ye hen? ‘M good at helpin!” He smiles so sweetly. You bite your lip, Soap is really good with his hands, knows how to squeeze and kneed every inch of you the way you like, rub and eat at your pussy when you have a bad day. But this is different? Isn’t it? You should punch something, make some bread or something like your mom used to do after a long day being a stay at home mom. But you trust Johnny, Johnny knows more than most people. You can confirm this because of how nice Johnny is most of the time. A little pushy, but he’s good person.
He beckons you over with the tips of his fingers, that warm gaze in his blue eyes that make you feel like everything will be alright, warmth rolling over your skin as your feet move before you can think for another second. Standing between his legs, his hands go up your thighs that almost make him groan right then and there. Taking in a sharp breath till his hands go to your waist, rubbing circles there. “That’s a good girl, don’t wanna hold all those bad feelings. Can lead to bad worry lines, bad dreams too.”
See? Johnny knows a lot!!
Knows he can’t stick it in either, but you’ve seen his cock, gave him the best hand job of his life, today would be better, guiding your hips back and forth, rubbing your glistening cunt against his pulsing manhood like it’s a fucking dildo. Yours hips are already bucking for action as you moan, can see that blooming clit, needy and wanting—
“Look at tha’ bunny, angh- almost like yer ridin me.” Soap hums, watching the way he cock disappears everytime you grind against him, your sticky syrup drenching his pubic hairs.
“So- fuck- ‘s good Johnny!” You whine, nails forming moons in the side of his tattooed biceps. Your head lulls to the side, glossy brown eyes staring down at Johnny, pressing yourself into his chest, “I want- hck- want it Johnny.”
You don’t know what you’re saying like that. Not when you’re half naked with lust in your eyes. His thumb brushes your plump bottom lip, you lean into his touch, nuzzling into his hand. You grind your hips down his dick. Harder this time and Johnny groans, “Yer gonna t’ kill me here, bloody hell.”
Soap lays you down on the couch, spreading your legs above his forearms, he slaps his strawberry red cock head against your clit, “Shit, ye feel tha’ swee’art? Got me all hard thinkin bout you takin me in that pretty hole ‘f yers,” He does it again that makes you kneen, circling his tip around yours Pearl just enough that you’re rock your hips asking his.
“Christ love, ‘s makin us both wet, ahh- would be fuckin mental if we both squirted right ‘ere, yeah?”
“Johnny!” You chide, but your hips are still moving against his throbbing member, you pout, “T-the couch’ll get wet.”
So it’s fine if it’s the on floor.
But Soap knows you, you’re scared if it’s out in the living room, “So many rules, Bonnie I know.” He puts your legs together, sliding his cock between your folds, kissing your knee. “Cannae have ye worryin that pretty little head, can I?”
The Scottish man rocks into you, making you feel each vein of his cock through your sopping folds, feeling the impact of his balls against your thighs with each thrust. His pace only gets faster and faster, grunts and groans leaving his mouth as he licks and bites the calf of your pretty legs. You let out another ragged whine, pushing at stomach, your eyebrows knit together and gripping onto the couch cushion,
“Johnny! ‘S too fast! Mmmph! Too m-much!”
Johnny o pulls you closer, making sure you feel the friction as your bent in half, rolls his hips into yours, “Told ye, if ye thinkin it’s too much bunny-“
“—I-I’m gonna pee?” You ask so innocently, it makes Soaps dick pulse even harder, he wants to tell you yes from how adorable you are underneath him. Let you freak out while he gets you to your own climax. He shakes his head, giggling, “No bun, yer just cummin.”
The sound of your skin slapping off the walls, the shlick of his pre cum and your juices drenching your thigh, you’ve too have already made a fucking mess. You feel your body writhe, cumming right on Soaps dick, your back arching as you let out such pretty moans that goes straight to Soaps dick. Painting your puffy little clit and your stomach white with his cum.
“Good job bunny girl,” he coos, slipping his cock out from between your thighs, spreading you open and staring at the way your hole sputters and flutters as you cum down from your high. Gushing all the way down to your ass crack. It’s glorious, next time, Johnny will were his glasses with the camera in them, he’ll be able to take this whole thing in HD.
He looks up at you, rubbing your thighs, “Ye feel better now Hen? Not so angry anymore cummin like tha, no?”
You shake your head, your chest rising and falling as your lashes flutter.
“Good,” he smiles again, getting on his knees, your legs above his shoulders now, leaving a kiss on your thigh, “Let me taste yer pussy, okay? Gotta let go of alllll tha stress on ma tongue.”
a/n: I had vision with this but I then realized I wrote guided mastúrbating with Pervy roommate!soap before and I don’t write the same thing twice (atleast I try not to) so thigh fvck it is! 5/10.
(mdni, sexual content, 18+, if you dont like it just block.)
𖹭 tw: innocence kink, mean! toxic! manipulative! simon, virgin reader, possessive simon , inexperienced/oblivious /naive reader.
𖹭 word count: 1.1k.
𖹭 summary: obsessive!Simon as your obsessive childhood best friend who doesnt want to let go of you. Small town scenario. This is just an introduction.
In the dusty outskirts of a forgotten small town, where cracked roads wound through endless fields of wilted corn and rusted silos stood tall, Simon grew up in a ramshackle farmhouse that reeked of neglect and stale whiskey. His father, a hulking brute with fists like hammers and a temper fueled by cheap booze, ruled the household with iron-fisted demands after Simon's mother succumbed to a quiet, unspoken illness when he was just six.
From dawn till dusk, the boy toiled endlessly—hauling hay bales heavier than his scrawny frame, mending barbed-wire fences that sliced his palms, scrubbing pig pens until his knuckles bled raw—while his father lounged on the sagging porch, barking orders and swinging belts for the slightest infraction.
The other kids in town steered clear, whispering about the 'crazy farm freak' with the wild eyes and scowl, their laughter echoing from afar as they played kickball in the schoolyard without him. Isolation carved deep scars into Simon's soul, twisting his young heart into a fortress of solitude; he glared at the world with a mean, grumpy outlook, despising the cruelty of society that had orphaned him emotionally long before his mother was gone. Mentally adrift in a storm of rage and abandonment, he was convinced everyone was out to break him further.
Then you appeared, a pretty little vision with sunlit hair and eyes that sparkled like the rare wildflowers pushing through the town's empty lots, crossing his path during a summer recess when you wandered too close to his solitary chores by the creek. From that first glance, Simon's fractured world realigned around you—his obsession ignited like fuel, erasing the shadows of his abusive father and the ghost of his dead mother.
Nothing else mattered; he schemed in the shadows of childhood, spreading vicious rumors about the other kids who dared approach you—whispering to them that you carried cooties from the city, or that your family was cursed with bad luck, planting seeds of doubt that bloomed into isolation.
He'd sabotage playdates with 'accidental' scares, like hiding spiders in their lunchboxes or tripping them during games, ensuring they fled your side in tears. You became his sole anchor, his pretty lil obsession, and in the sick corners of his mind, he fantasized about dragging you to his cramped room, chaining the door shut, and keeping you forever as his secret treasure, untouched by the world's filth.
Over the years, Simon wove himself into the fabric of your life like an unbreakable vine, becoming your constant shadow, your best friend in a town that suddenly felt emptier without him.
He was there for every scraped knee from falling down, every tear shed over schoolyard taunts, offering gruff comforts and loyalty that no one else could match. You'd share stolen moments by the old oak tree, trading secrets under its branches as the sun dipped low, his presence a comforting weight that filled the voids others left behind.
He listened to your dreams with intensity, memorizing every detail, while subtly steering conversations away from anyone who might steal your attention. Your laughter became his lifeline, pulling him from of his father's drunken rages; he'd endure fresh bruises hidden under long sleeves just to meet you at the edge of his property, his grumpy facade cracking into rare, possessive smiles reserved only for you. This closeness was his sanctuary, where he cultivated your dependence like a gardener tending his favourite plant.
As puberty stretched his limbs and deepened his voice, Simon sharpened his tactics, always finding excuses to chip away at your innocence with a predatory gleam in his eye. He'd 'accidentally' brush against your curves whenever you both were alone, his hands lingering a bit too long on the swell of your hips, chuckling it off as roughhousing between 'friends'.
Movie nights in his dimly lit room turned into lessons in 'grown-up stuff,' where he'd pull up grainy videos on his beat-up laptop, pointing out how the characters touched and moaned, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “See? That's just natural, ain't nothin' wrong with explorin', doll.”
He'd made you to try on his shirts, watching hungrily as the fabric clung to your body, then tug at the hem to 'fix' it, fingers grazing the soft skin of your thighs. Each intrusion was cloaked in playful innocence, planting seeds of confusion and heat in your core, his obsession evolving into a hunger to corrupt what was pure, all while insisting it was just him looking out for his girl.
Simon never missed a chance to manhandle you, his touch turning possessive and rough under the guise of brotherly familiarity, claiming your body as his territory with calloused filthy hands that knew no boundaries. "C'mere, dolly,'" he'd grin, scooping you up without warning to toss you over his broad shoulder during walks home, your squeals ignored as his palm smacked your ass 'playfully' to quiet you.
He'd pin you against the barn wall during arguments, large fingers digging into your waist to hold you still, his body pressing flush so you felt every hard inch of him grinding insistently.
Fixing your hair meant yanking your head back by the strands, thumbs tracing your jaw before crushing his mouth near yours in a 'joking' nip. Even hugs turned into full-body cages, arms like steel bands crushing you to his chest, one hand always sliding down to cup your ass or thigh, kneading the flesh as he whispered, "Just keepin' ya close, like always." These moments left you breathless and marked—fingerprints blooming on pale skin—yet he dismissed protests with a smirk, "What? We've been like this forever; i'm your best friend, lovie. its okay between us."
Once a skittish boy with wide, wary eyes and a frame swallowed by overalls that hung loose on his underfed body, Simon transformed under the relentless grind of farm life into a rugged force of nature.
Freckles dusted his weathered face like stars scattered across tanned cheeks, earned from endless hours under the punishing sun, while his hands bore the rugged scars of labor—calluses thick as leather, knuckles perpetually bruised.
Muscles bulged hefty and hard across his broad shoulders, thick arms, and chest, formed from wrestling livestock and splitting logs, giving him the raw power of a boy who could lift a full-grown sow without breaking a sweat.
Dirty blond hair tousled by wind and sweat. jaw shadowed by a very light beard that he never bothered to shave, adding to his untidy allure. He didn't give a damn about mirrors, striding through town in faded jeans over thighs, scuffed boots caked in mud—a roughened-up farm boy whose obsessive gaze always locked onto you.
in which, NOLAN GRAYSON is a good man; he can't help but assist his neighbor in times of need.
‧₊˚✩彡
includes: nolan grayson x fem!reader, mature content (17+) age gap (nolan - 40's [human years], reader -20's), spoiler alert nolan grayson is not a good man, finger sucking, manipulative!nolan grayson, cheating / infidelity, oral (f. receiving), prone bone, piv, semi-public sex, dirty talk, outdoor sex, making out, fingering, spit, coercive undertones, 4.1k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
MOVING INTO your own home had consisted of a lot of things; learning which vacuums cleaned your rugs the best, how to change a lightbulb on your own, and even to fix a leaky faucet. the myriad of adult tasks you had suddenly become well acquainted with were simple-- standard for every newly young adult.
but the one thing you could not figure out for the life of you-- was how to work your lawn-mower. the instructions, you figured, mays well have been written in hieroglyphics. every tug and every shove you brought down onto the crappy machine didn't seem to whirl it to life, nor did it enlighten you on how to fix the stupid thing.
standing under the sweltering sun of late summer, you were slowly becoming more and more agitated at what was supposed to be a simple, mindless task. you swiped your forehead with the back of your hand, placing your free hand on your hip; the lawn-mower sat irritatingly still in the middle of your back-yard, amongst even more irritatingly long grass. it tickled your bare ankles mockingly, and the stillness of the wind had you gnawing on your bottom lip in frustration.
out of habit, you glanced upwards and out, at your neighbor's houses. being the youngest home-owner on the block had been intimidating when you moved in, and the daunting fact hadn't become any less scary despite you living in the neighborhood for just over a year. the only people you had really talked to-- beyond a simple greeting or nod-- were the graysons.
nolan, debbie, and their son mark. a kind enough family with a white-picket fence life. you had thought, though, their kindness was due to the fact that you were directly next to them; it would have been virtually impossible for either of you to ignore the other. so debbie had brought you some muffins your first week in your home, and mark (surely forced by his parents) had shoveled your drive-way a few times in the winter. kind, standard. simple.
the eldest man in the house, however, hadn't paid you much mind; he waved curtly when his departure for work aligned with yours, and, on rare occasions, would strike up conversation when you were lounging on your deck and he was outside barbequing.
( "how's work treating you, sweetheart?" he asked, eyes barely looking up from the slowly smoking grill in front of him. standing on his deck, he was more than tall enough to see into your entire back-yard; including you, sun-bathing calmly on a deck chair.
your stomach flipped; certainly, he was just being kind-- right? "well," you scoffed lightly, "it's definitely treating me."
nolan chuckled. it was deep, warm, alluring; from the back of his throat, shooting tingles up your spine. "oh, poor girl," you watched him load a serving dish with burger patties, "somebody 'oughta look after you. work shouldn't be so stressful at your age."
you had blinked twice, irises flickering past the rim of your sunglasses. "right," you agreed, cogs turning in your head-- stuck on the implication of his words.
before you could question him, you heard his barbeque close. "have a nice rest of your evening," he waved, before slinking past the sliding-glass doors back into his house.
you couldn't stop replaying the moment. the graysons were kind, but... were they that kind? )
beyond your simple interactions, you would see him with debbie sometimes. on her way out for work in the mornings, he'd kiss her good-bye; they sometimes ran together, in the late evenings of spring, and you'd watch them circle your neighborhood in minutes-- it was intimate in ways you couldn't describe. fulfilling. if the sun was high in the sky at juuust the right time-- you could peer into the window of their dining room from your own; debbie would set the table, and nolan would be right there, massaging her shoulders as she sat, thanking her for the food, pressing kisses to her hair-line like she was made of glass.
though you'd never admit it, something ugly and bitter would stew deep in your gut; if you hadn't known any better, you'd think your cheeks would have been tinted with a ferocious shade of green-- envy.
nonetheless, the graysons were your neighbors. they were kind people, simple in the most domestic of ways, and had offered a steady hand should you need it in your journey of being an adult.
you didn't feel like an adult now, you remarked inwardly, rolling your eyes at the lawn-mower in front of you. you kicked it again, the machine barely moving under the force of your impact-- and you heard a chuckle from behind you.
"i don't think beating the thing up is going to make it work, honey," nolan grinned, arms crossed over his chest. you could see he wore a simple polo-shirt, the fabric straining against his biceps and chest; standing on the edge of his deck and peering over at you in your yard, the older man looked more than amused.
"oh," you breathed out, slightly startled at his voice; your smile slowly bloomed across your face, though a mild embarrassment crawled up your neck. "i don't know what's wrong with the thing! it won't start up," you exasperate, as if to defend your physical outburst at the machine.
nolan's head tilted to the side softly, eyes squinting at your lawn-mower as if he could see what was wrong with it from all the way in his yard. "did you put fresh gasoline in it?" he questioned, only to laugh a little at your displeased reaction.
"give me more credit than that, mr. grayson," you huffed, and nolan brought his arms up apologetically.
"sorry, sweetheart," he mused, before beginning to walk towards the gate to his back-yard. "here," he said, voice still carrying easily through and above your fence despite the fact that you couldn't see him anymore, "unlock your gate. i'll take a look at it."
you hesitated for only a second, before jogging over to your back-yard's gate and pushing it open; nolan stood, waiting, on the other side. up close, his cologne swarmed your senses, and you could see the gray hairs peppered within his facial hair and at his hair-line. you swallowed, willing yourself to keep your eyes above his neck--regardless of how fucking good the older man looked. standing aside, you held lazily gestured for him to come into your backyard. as he passed, he smiled kindly at you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving a good squeeze.
the touch should have been kind, simple. but it had your core fluttering, and your knees buckling ever so slightly.
to say that you hadn't been ogling at your neighbor since you had moved in would be a lie. the way his arms flexed when he carried groceries into the house, or the way he tinkered so confidently in his garage on hot summer days was down-right vulgar.
it made you angry, sometimes; knowing that a man that fine was so much older than you, and married, with a son closer to your age than you'd like to admit; that he was something you couldn't have. when it was late at night though, and you were achingly alone in the confinements of your house-- you'd let your mind wander.
wander to all the ways you could play house with that married man; wander to the positions he'd bend and fold you into, wander to the filthy pledges he'd make to you while so impossibly deep inside, and wander to--
"it's your air filter that's the problem," nolan's voice broke you from your day-dreaming, and your eyebrows raised slightly.
"...i didn't even know that lawn-mowers had air-filters."
nolan laughed. it was enchanting-- the way his shoulders moved, head tilted ever so slightly; you moved to sit on your deck, purposefully choosing to squeeze your thighs together, willing the dull ache in your cunt to go away.
get a grip, you thought.
"well, she's clogged," he mused, crouching down in front of your lawn-mower, fiddling with the mechanical parts. "i can fix her up for you."
nolan's offer was generous-- even through its mundanity. "are you sure?" you questioned, fingers rolling and unrolling between the strap of your tank-top absentmindedly. "wouldn't wanna be a bother,"
the man paused, glancing upwards at you. he studied your frame, your cheeks suddenly growing hot. "'course." nolan said easily. "you're not a bother at all. besides, i wasn't doing anything important-- just waiting for the missus to get home,"
debbie briefly crossed your mind at the mention of her, and something akin to guilt flashed through your system. you and nolan weren't doing anything (yet) but the situation you had found yourself in still felt dangerously taboo. "what about mark?" you ask, mouth working faster than your brain.
one of nolan's eyebrows arched upwards, and he stood from in front of your lawn-mower. slowly, perhaps even casually, he crossed the yard to stand in front of you; he peered down, his shadow casted over you like a blanket of naivety. you shivered, despite the heat that seemed to absorb everything around you. "what about him?" he asked.
"uh," you sputtered, unsure of what to say-- what excuse you had to be asking nolan about where his son currently was. it wasn't like you could just confess, so we don't get caught. "well y'know, maybe you have plans with him; i don't to, um, impose on that--"
nolan interrupted you with a light chuckle, before his right hand found your jaw-- cradling it in his grasp like you were the most delicate thing in the universe. heat shot up your spine at the contact. "at his part-time job," the man answered easily. maybe you were hearing things, going utterly insane, but his voice seemed to drop several octaves. "won't be home for a few hours."
your mouth dried up, words shriveling and dying in your throat underneath the intensity of his gaze.
"why're you asking, sweetheart?" nolan questioned, and the nick-name-- god it was supposed to be kind, simple, normal-- made the heat between your thighs thicken intensely.
"well i- uh," you swallowed, blinking up at him, with the wheels turning in your head furiously. "i just wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea-- with you being here n' all,"
"wrong idea?" nolan asked, using his grip to force your face upwards at him even further. "i don't know what you mean by that."
fuck you mr. grayson, you thought inwardly, because it was obvious nolan knew what you meant. it would be obvious to anyone-- blaringly so. a married man had his hand gripping the life out of his controversially younger neighbor's chin, standing before her like she owed him something; all the while his wife and son were painfully unaware of what was happening just one door over to their home.
anyone with a brain could see where this was headed; and the thought of that made you shamefully wet.
"yes you do." you countered, whisper falling from your lips in protest. "you know what this looks like, mr. grayson."
nolan paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips, before leaning down to bring himself to your eye-level. the scent of his after-shave invaded your senses. "i'm just here to help my neighbor out," he said carefully; his voice was not unkind, warmth seeping from every syllable, but the words held power, "unless you had other things in mind."
silently and without thought, your eyes darted to his saliva coated lips, before flickering back to his blue irises.
nolan laughed, a short exhale out through his nose. "i think you have the wrong idea, sweet girl," he whispered. "s' that why you're always so nervous around me? can't help your thoughts?"
you swallowed deeply, mouth parting ever so slightly. by the way nolan was looking at you, speaking to you-- you'd think he could hear every nervous beat of your heart; pumping erratically, out of control at the closeness between the both of you.
his thumb swiped dangerously close to your bottom lip, before resting on the plush fat of it; he paused, before sticking it in your mouth, letting it rest on your tongue.
the saltiness of his finger was bewitching, and against all morality and common sense-- you began to suck. nolan hummed, feeling your hot spit coat his digit with ease. "just say what you want, pretty. i'll give it to you."
reaching upwards, you grasped his wrist tightly-- yanking his hand from your mouth. "i can't," you fought lamely, breathlessly. "it- it's wrong, you're married,"
"hey, shh," he cooed, holding your cheeks gently in his big hand, inadvertently smearing your spit along the plump of your face, "don't think like that." nolan whispered, eyes lowering to your lips, "you're not the one doin' anything wrong, you just need some help," moving closer, his face was mere inches away from you own, his breath-- despite its warmth-- chilling against your lips. "let me help you, princess,"
your eyelashes fluttered, your face so close to his you were certain he could feel the way they brushed rapidly against his cheek. "mr. grayson," you protested weakly, your resolve crumbling hastily.
nolan shushed you gently again, before pressing his lips to yours. the man was warm, tasting like cinnamon and pungent cologne; the stubble on his chin grazed the silk of your skin clumsily as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss; an arm leaving its spot on the deck to wrap around his neck. nolan smelled faintly of oil from your lawn-mower, the tool sitting lifelessly in the middle of your lawn like a reminder of why the man currently kissing the daylights out of you had initially come over.
his tongue, eventually, swiped against your bottom lip-- and your mouth parted easily to allow him access inside. it was intrusive-- but grounding-- the way it over-powered yours, so sloppy and desperate. when he began to suck, a low sound from deep in your throat escaped from you. so measly, so willing; nolan grunted in return, before yanking you upwards by your forearms. you stood now on your tip-toes on the deck-- still connected to your neighbor by the lips.
when you pulled away, desperate for air-- (how had nolan gone so long without breaking away for oxygen?)-- nolan looked down at you with squinted eyes. his lips were plump, swollen from the kissing-- and you were certain yours looked the same. he grinned slightly, watching you pant, before whispering: "see? sweet girl just needed my help,"
you hummed shakily in return, still slightly dazed from the kiss. sweltering summer sun beat down onto your skin-- not adding to the already badgering heat of the situation. your eyes blinked slowly, looking upwards at the man, who looked quite pleased with himself.
"lay down," he urged, nodding towards the lawn; "m' not finished."
you did as he said without protest, the grass prickling your palms, thighs, and back as you laid against the earth. your heart-beat pounded in your ears, and your eyes briefly darted to the grayson's house beside your own. another intense wave of guilt launched itself over-top of you, and your eyes screwed shut as you watched nolan get on the ground as well. he laid in a sniper position, riiight between your thighs, his calloused palms running up and down them.
"what's wrong?" he questioned, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your knees and up your thighs.
you shivered, arousal pooling messily beneath your panties as he trailed his way up, up and up towards your pussy. "i feel bad,"
nolan's fingers hooked into your shorts, yanking them downwards and past your ankles with ease. your panties went along with them, and the harshness of the air against your cunt made you shiver. the man pressed an index-finger, long and thick, straight to your slit-- and he huffed.
"sweetheart," he started, dragging the digit from your clit to your hole achingly slow, "y'can't feel that bad; look at how soaked this pretty little cunt is for me."
you gasped, hips bucking at the stimulation of his finger against your folds. he repeated the action a few more times, reveling in the way your body responded so avidly to his touch. "i-i do," you insisted gently; though it all went out the window as nolan leaned forward onto his forearms and spat directly onto your pussy. you both watched it glisten crudely underneath the hot glare of the sun, the liquid trailing down your folds slowly.
"mhm," nolan hummed, clearly disbelieving, before pressing his mouth to your cunt immediately. his stubble prickled and scratched at your thighs as his jaw loosened against your cunt. your back arched off the grass wildly as he licked one looong flat stripe up your folds, maintaining eye-contact with you as if his life depended on it.
"o-ohh holy shit!" you yelped, fists clenching and unclenching as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud with passion.
nolan worked diligently, his tongue swiping across your folds before dipping into you and tongue-fucking you with vigor. he hummed and groaned against your skin, the taste of your slick intoxicating to the older man. reaching beside him, he yanked your legs over his shoulders, inadvertently reaching deeper within your sopping cunt. "that's it," he grumbled against your pussy, muffled by your flesh, "fuckin' taste so good for me; dripping on my face. i knew you needed this,"
you were thrashing wildly at his motions, fists meeting the firm soil beneath you repeatedly. "fuuuck," you whined, clearly too high off of being ate out to have any care that your other neighbors might hear you.
the feeling of nolan's fingers, two of them, prodding at your entrance stole the breath from your lungs. there was only a moment of this, though, before he shoved them both inside you-- tongue still lapping at your clit with an unkempt regard. they curled almost immediately against your g-spot, and your hips jerked recklessly.
"g-god, shit, mr. grayson, m'going to cum," you warned breathlessly, chin tilting backwards as nolan remained unrelenting at his actions. his left palm rested on the outside of your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly-- the metal of his wedding band burned against your skin.
he groaned at your confession, eyes darting up to your face again. "yeah?" he asked, despite feeling the way your legs vibrated against his head-- thighs practically keeping him glued to your cunt. "cum on my face, sweetheart."
his words pushed you over the edge-- your cunt spasmed uncontrollably against his face and fingers, clenching and unclenching, gripping his digits as if you needed them to survive. your palm flew to your mouth to muffle your moans, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the pure intensity of your orgasm. even as nolan gently finger-fucked you through it, it still was profound. cum and slick seeped from your pussy, and when nolan pulled his face from your core, the bottom half of his face glistened.
"you think that was good?" he questioned, sitting up ever so slightly to undo his belt buckle-- the sound of his metal belt clasp ringing throughout your yard.
you nodded, voice far too hoarse from your screaming to respond in words. when you felt nolan's palms on you again, you hadn't expected him to flip you with such ease-- but suddenly you were laying on your stomach, blades of grass digging into your flesh.
there was silence for a few moments-- before you felt nolan's cock head prod your cunt open. his shadow casted over your frame easily, and his chest was to your back; nolan pressed a chaste kiss to the skin right behind your ear, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "wait til' i split you open with my cock; then you'll see what's 'good.'"
it was nearly impossible to fight back the moan that spilled from your lips at the filth of his words-- the late summer heat doing nothing in aiding your quickly over-heating system.
before you knew it, the familiar burn of being streeetched open shocked your core. nolan's breathing grew ragged against your neck as he slowly pushed himself inside of your weeping cunt, every vein and every ridge of his dick tearing you apart.
a sob tore itself from your lips-- nolan was big.
"i know," he cooed, peppering kisses along your neck in an attempt to soothe you, "you're doing good-- such a big, strong girl taking-- haah-- this fat cock,"
"you're too big," you cried, legs shaking already-- you felt fatally full of him, your pussy being stretched beyond anything you had ever experienced before.
"you can take it." nolan reassured steadily, continuing to sheath himself further within your cunt. "fuck-- you're so tight," he groaned. "strangling my dick, my pretty girl,"
when his hips finally met the plush of your ass, nolan bottoming out inside you-- both of you gasped. it felt like he was in your throat--! nolan's cock twitched, and your name fell from his mouth like an expletive.
birds fluttered above you both, hot sun beating down onto nolan's back as he finally began to fuck you. it was gentle at first, his hips rocking as you adjusted to the size of him-- the pain that was just so fucking good-- before you started to moan out of pleasure. when nolan heard your tiny gasps and mewls, watching your hands desperately claw at the earth beneath you-- his pace quickened.
nolan grunted against the shell of your ear, cock bullying your insides. "never been fucked like this, have you, sweet girl?"
you shook your head no, eyes rolling into the back of your skull-- his dick making you see stars.
"that's right," he moaned softly, hips snapping into your ass with unabashed fervor. "god-- you should've just asked for this sooner, baby,"
when you gasped, craning your neck to look back at him-- you saw beads of sweat dripping down his temple, landing obscenely onto your back. "w-what?" you questioned, in between moans.
"do you think i-- hah-- haven't seen the way you've been looking at me since you moved in?" he asked, grinding his cock into your g-spot, v-line resting crudely against your ass. "knew you wanted me the second you saw me. but-- such a sweet girl you are-- you didn't do anything 'cause you knew i'm married,"
you moaned whoreishly feeling his cock jump and pulse within you, your own cunt responding by squeezing him-- holding him in, unwilling to let go-- firmly.
"s'okay," nolan murmured against your skin, cock throbbing as he rammed himself in and out of you over and over and over again. "i can take care of you," he groaned, sentence interrupted by a deep moan, "i can take care of this pussy."
"mr. grayson, fuck--! m'coming again," you squealed, orgasm crashing over you with such ferocity, you swear you black out. your pussy spasms and twitches, milking nolan's cock, your entire system drowning in bliss.
the older man swore, forehead pressing to the crown of your head mere moments later-- his thrusting simply uncontrolled and unabashed. wave after wave of your pleasure, nolan made sure to fuck you as deep and as hard as he could before pulling out and coating your ass in his cum.
hot ropes of cum shot all over your ass, and nolan groaned deeply, feeling his release entirely coating the plush of your behind.
"god," he swallowed, bringing a palm to your ass to smear his cum all over your skin. you're still far too cock-drunk to speak, head pressing into the ground of your back-yard lazily. "you were so good for me, sweetheart," you hear nolan coo, although his voice grows distant as he stands; the sound of his belt being done up makes you blink up at him hazily.
nolan stands, looking over your fucked-out form; his eyes squint, like he's burning the image into his memory-- unwilling to let it ever disappear. he bends down after a while to grab your panties and shorts, adjusting and moving your legs to hike them past your hips once again. the man gives a simple pat to your now covered ass, before standing again.
"i'll fix your lawn-mower for you; it shouldn't take me long," he speaks casually, as if he didn't just fuck you into oblivion. his grasp on the metal handle is sturdy, confident. "you let me know if you need help with anything else though, sweetheart," nolan says, pushing your lawn-mower towards your back-yard gate with ease. "that's what neighbors are for, right?"
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: give me this senior citizen RN bro................ debbie better than me idk how she only had one baby w him cs i woulda had like 26. also wooo kinktober day 1 smashed i hope yall liked this dilf dedicated day
Tf141 who plays strip poker but they all gang up on you until you’re fully naked and the worst anyone else has gotten is a lost sock or shoe.
“No fair!”
“Ain’t our fault youre shit at poker. Now you know the rules.”
Gaz takes you first, biting his lip to hold back the sly grin he has as he sinks you down on his cock. “So pretty perched on a cock.”
His hands gently guide you back and forth, musing nothing but praises. “I’m almost there, baby. I know you want it. Can you feel you wanting it.”
Eventually he holds you still, rutting up into you while his thumb draws soothing circles on your hip. The others watch intensely before he slams you down, keeping your hips pressed firmly against him as he pours his release inside.
Gaz combs your hair out of your face, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before he peels you off. But not before he gives your cunt a gentle grope with the palm of his hand. “Thanks love.”
He passes you off to soap who’s been bouncing in his seat since you were in your undergarments. He’s quick to get you bent over the table before sinking his dick in with a deep groan.
He’s meaner than Gaz, insisting that you squirt for him before he lets you go despite you cumming multiple times. “I can’t, Johnny! Icanticanticant,” you sob, pussy puffy and swollen.
Soaps arm slinks down between your legs before his fingers repeatedly swipe across your poor clit. He has no aim, but it gets the job done and your vision nearly goes black as you’re leaking onto the edge of the table.
Soap grins victoriously. “So ye can do it. Fuckin’ liar you are.”
Then there’s ghost. He’s not trying to be an ass about it. It’s just that he’s so damn big that it’s bound to hurt no matter how many times Gaz and Soap have cum inside you.
He lifts you up from the underside of your knees, spreading you wide open before nudging inch by inch inside. “Nice view, LT.”
“Wish it were you, aye Johnny?”
Soap smirks. “Who? You or her?”
The conversation ends there, ghost too enthralled by the way his dick pumps out cum with every thrust. The position makes it perfect to see the tip of his dick bulging as he brings you down to the hilt.
“Fuck,” you pant, barely audible over those heavenly wails you let out.
“I know, doll. That’s what I’m doin’.” You don’t even have it in you to tell him to piss off and that’s exactly how he likes you.
Last is price, who lays you gently down on the table with a hand resting on each thigh. There’s no resistance as he slips his dick inside your warm and sloppy hole.
Immediately you shudder from oversensitivity, hands pawing at his abdomen to push him back but there’s no strength behind it.
He’s gentle, but the experience is there when he’s grinding up his dick to all the right places.
Two of his fingers scoop up the leaking cum (probably a mix of all three) before drawing delicate figure 8’s across your abused clit.
You squeak, legs tensing as sparks fill your vision. “There she is, nice and fuckin’ tight.”
And once he knows he has you teetering on that edge, he’s pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.
The table shakes under the intensity and it proves to be worth it when you’re mumbling gibberish in hysterics.
Price finally pulls out, patting your pussy twice as a reward. “Good girl.” And you don’t know if he’s talking to you or your cunt.
You feel a hand cup your cheek but your vision is blurry and every voice sounds as if you’re underwater. “Ya look like you’re seeing stars, lassie.”
“I’m never playing poker again.”
Your comment earns a few chuckles from the group. “Oh don’t be like that. You almost almost had us!”
“Kyle’s right. You’re improving fast. You’re bound to win the next one, soldier.”
It’s a lie. Price knows it. The group knows it. You know it. But it doesn’t stop you from playing the next week.
can't stop thinking about starlight from the boys and her eyes glowing when she orgasms, so…hehe.
tags: pwp, KINKY!!, readers eyes glow when she cums, mutant!reader, p-in-v, post-coital conversations, teasing, sexual tension, pussy whipped!clark (1.1k wc)
—
you could count the amount of times you'd orgasmed in your entire life on a single hand.
it wasn't that every man you met was devastatingly bad, there were good times. but it was a much bigger, brighter problem when you could cum. you'd gotten tired of explaining they why of the light-show that came when…you came. so you'd decided, the next person you fucked, would be someone entirely capable of handling you in the oddities of your quirk.
that man…happened to be none other than clark kent.
you'd met him in the justice league, hit it off instantly. mainly because you really adored how fascinated he got whenever you'd use your powers in his presence. so he should've been fine if you beamed as you orgasmed.
…that's what you told yourself anyway. the theory was yet to be tested.
when you forewarned him, he was more embarrassed than weirded out. "the idea that i could even get a gorgeous girl like you to…you know…it's not weird at all. it'll be rewarding. c'mon…don't be silly."
despite his casual deference to your forewarning, his ears were red, all the way down to your neck. so you figured, what's the worst that could happen.
the words tumble out of you breathless, hasty & jumbled. too overwhelmed to even form coherent sentences with how much clark's cock was stretching you out. fucking you so hard and deep.
your body arches right into him. hot, sweaty chest, soft and pressed up against his own. clark's muscle tenses, his hip thrusting relentlessly into your squelching cunt. the sharp burn you once felt had manifested into something so dangerous and potent — the aching pleasure of your belly burning wildly and intensely.
clark's arm curls around your hips, his forearms flexing, holding you securely in place as he drives up into you. he'd barely begun fucking you and he already knew you were going to cum, with your pussy fluttering so warm and tight around him. the combined sweat makes your skin slick where you're pressed together.
he thinks he might've imagined it when he sees a flicker of an amber glow casting form your eyes. it pulses in your pupils, threatening to take over. clark keeps at his pace — the room then lights up, in the direction your head was tilted.
his eyes widens. an awed gasp caught in his throat as the amber coats your irises, illuminating his face for a brief second before you tip your head. column of your through visible as you come hard, coating the space in an otherworldly glow.
"jesus…look at you."
the glow pulses from within your skin. forcing clark to slow in the presence of the eerie hue. he stares, completely captivated. it quickly churns in him — a quiet, heady want that fills him. before you even begin to feel judged beneath his scrutiny, his hand comes to cradle your cheeks, thumbing gently at your cheekbone.
you lean into his touch, shy. "i-is it weird?" his gaze only makes you pulse around him harder.
clark lets out a low, shuddered groan at the flutter, hips jerking up into you.
"g-gosh no. not weird. it's…you."
his thrusts resume much slower, careful not to overwhelm you after your orgasm. but he's mesmerised, by the gentle flow that fades from your eyes. grinding slow and deep into you.
"you're so…so beautiful."
you feel his palm slide to the back of your head, flexing his fingers in locks of your hair. "m-mhn. you're…not just saying that to be nice?" you punctuate your words with a circle of your hips, matching the pace of his thrusts.
clark visibly winces, grunting low as he feels the familiar tightness in his balls. "you're…unbelievable." his gaze remains on you, sheepish, but truthful, "it is…so…incredibly hot," he croaks, his own head looks to the side. focussed on driving his cock into you velvet, tight pussy. "you're glowin'…cause of me."
you don't think you have another orgasm left in you. but you're as determined to get him to feel the same pleasure you did. a low growl rumbles in your throat as you squeeze harder around him.
"h-holy—…ugh!"
a broken whimper leaves his throat as soon as you relax around his length and his belly tightens, convulsing beneath you as he pants your name over and over. arm tightly locked around your hips as he empties himself deep inside you in helpless, desperate thrust.
you whine at the abrupt change in position, where clark pulls you down next to him, breathing heavily in the wake of his own orgasm.
clark's turns to you with a deep, content sigh, his hand coming up to brush the damp hairs stuck to your temple to the side. "wasn't such bad thing…" he murmurs, thumbing by your cheekbones.
"you're so weird…"
he lifts his head in mock offense, "how does that make me weird?"
"me beaming like a lighthouse is weird. liking it makes you weird. " you mumble with an embarrassed laugh, burying your face in his chest.
"it's not weird," he tuts, draping your trembling thighs over his hips, "first time i….came….i laser beamed my bedroom in the barn."
you snort. nudging your jaw on his chest.
"you're fucking with me."
"m'not," clark raises his palm, folding his fingers. "scout's honour."
"…you really think it's hot?" you lazily rest your cheeks on the sweaty, tuft of hair on his chest."
"are you kidding? i came harder than i have in years just watching you get like that…"
"you're just saying that." you cut in, hasty and in disbelief. "what's so hot about it?"
"gosh it's…" clark sighs, head slumping back, a lop-sided grin on his cheeks. "letting go for me like that, your entire body reacting so…beautifully. it's…it's like heaven —"
"jesus. you're so poetic for no reason. say it dirtier." you murmur. running your knuckles down the deep indents of his cheeks.
clark lifts his head enough to size you with a pouty look, but then he slumps. pondering on your words. you don't think he was actually going to follow through until you feel his voice drop an octave lower, gaze intently on yours.
"watchin' you…come apart on my cock is one thing. but seeing your eyes just…glow. like some kind of…extra-terrestrial adult film…star. i don't think a guy can ask for more. i thought i would explode. like i was gonna laser beam at my release like it was my first damn time."
you lift your head, almost in awe at his use of words, a soft, appraising growl leaving your throat.
Warnings: SMUT (only a bit/very mild), dirty talk (sorta), breeding kink(?), idk I just work here, NOLAN finally makes an appearance, spoiler: he doesn’t like you :(, ceremonial clothes (dress), awkward Viltrumite Mark is my favorite Mark
“That’s it— fuck.”
A high pitched, needy whine leaves your throat, nails digging into his shoulders, “M-Mark.” He groans, pushing in deeper, “Feels so… good. Fuck.”
The muscles in your thighs are straining, throbbing in pain from being stretched for so long. “Can’t,” you cry, shoving at his chest, “It’s too much.” “You can,” he growls, an order, “You will. I’m going to fill you so much it’s leaking out. And then I’m putting more in.” Your walls clench around him. He chuckles, dark and low beside your ear, “You gave yourself over to me, you knew what was going to happen.”
A sob punches from your chest. You can’t even hate him because it’s true. You agreed you agreed to let him mate with you. But the moment you stripped before him, bare and vulnerable, he was on you. Eager and aggressive.
“You made me wait so long. I’m done being patient,” he mumbles, shifting his hips back before thrusting forward, filling you with one push of his hips.
Your thighs twitch and your back arches which only pushes him deeper. Mark groans, the grip on your hips tightening.
“Don’t. Move,” he commands.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Slowly, your breathing evens out, back falling against the bed, muscles easing. “You’re going to look so sexy as a mom,” he mumbles, starting with slow thrusts, “Can’t wait to see your stomach get big and beautiful when you’re carrying our child.”
He’s never called your future baby ‘child’ , it's always ‘offspring’. You know something is wrong. But then the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and your brain whites out.
“I love you.”
〤〤〤
You startle awake, breathing slightly heavy.
“Are you alright?”
You startle, turning to look at him. Mark’s standing in the door, breakfast tray in hands, frowning. “I’m,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Weird dream.” Mark looks unconvinced but nods anyway. He walks over to you, offering you the tray, “It’ll be a busy day today. Once you’ve eaten and showered, we have to leave.”
You sit up, taking the tray from him, your insides squirming as your fingers brush against his own.
“What time is the speech,” you ask. “Noon,” he replies, sitting on the edge of the bed, “You sure you don’t want to talk to the people?” You shake your head. Mark nods, “Very well.” He gently squeezes your leg and stands, “We have to be there by eleven but other than that, we’re not on a schedule. Take your time.”
You take advantage of it, eating and showering slower than usual. The dream lingered in your mind. You were disgusted with your mind for even thinking about having sex with him. Let alone— enjoying it.
“What is this?”
Mark looks up from the papers he’s reading on the desk, eyes drifting from you to the clothes laid out on the bed. “A ceremonial Viltrumite outfit,” he answers, slow. Like he knows you won’t like his response. “I’m not giving a speech,” you mumble, rubbing at the bruises along your throat, “Why do I have to wear one?”
Make stares at the dress. Like he’s trying to burn it. To rid it of its existence.
“My father will be there,” he says, hands balling into fists, “Annisa has probably already informed him of you. I know it’s not ideal— but I really need him to like you. Or tolerate you.”
“Tolerate?”
His eyes snap up to meet yours, “Wrong word— look, my father is a very … specific man. He doesn’t believe Viltrumites should breed with anyone who isn’t another Viltrumite. Just— don’t talk, okay? I’ll do all the talking.” You stare at him for a long time.
You look back down at the dress or whatever Mark called it earlier. You fidget with the bracelet before speaking, “Should I style my hair in a specific way or something?” Mark frowns, “Why?” You look up at him, “Some cultures have specific traditions for wearing ceremonial outfits. It makes the person look prettier.” Marks face softens slightly, “You look fine the way you are now.”
You look down at yourself, covered in a towel and making a puddle on the floor.
You look back up at him, “Really?” Mark rolls his eyes, “Just get dressed. We have to leave soon to make it on time.”
The dress is a tight fit but that’s probably just Viltrumite clothing. Mark’s clothes are two sizes too small.
“Okay we have to go—“
Mark stops in his tracks. The world stills.
“What,” you ask, rubbing at the bruises on your neck subconsciously, “What’s wrong?” He swallows and doesn’t answer for a long moment.
“Woah.”
A blush instantly spreads across your cheeks, “You…” Mark shakes his head and his expression hardens again, “Come on. We’re gonna be late.” He ushers you out of the door, hand a little lower than usual.
〤〤〤
“If you were going to fly, why did we have to leave so fast?”
Mark huffs, “Planes do nothing but pollute the air. Besides, I can only fly so fast with a human passenger— your lungs and body aren’t adapted to traveling faster than sound.” You blink, “You can fly that fast?” He nods. You swallow, straightening out your dress.
Mark grabs your shoulders, “Listen. Very carefully. If you thought Annisa had power, you haven’t even scratched the surface of Viltrumite power. My father will not hesitate to kill you—“
Cause that makes me feel better.
“— but I won’t let him, understand? Don’t talk, let me talk. And stay behind the curtain when I give the speech. That’s all you have to do,” he instructs. You blink, “If all I am is eye candy why did I have to come?” Mark pauses, “My mom wants to meet you. And I have a surprise.”
“A what—“
“Close your eyes,” Mark interrupts. You stare at him but eventually comply, eyes fluttering closed. You yelp when Mark picks you up. “Keep them closed, my flower. I was told it’s a tradition to do surprises like this.”
“Who told you that,” you ask. “Katie,” he replies, “She’s been very helpful in understanding human things.” Something swirls around your heart; a black vine with thorns, sinking deep into your chest.
Jealousy?
No. Not possible.
“Why are you asking Katie,” you mumble, “I can tell you about human things.” Mark gently squeezes your hip, “Would you?” “Well— I don’t know everything but I can tell you a lot,” you argue. Mark huff, “Okay, flower. I’ll come to you first from now on.”
A few moments of comfortable silence falls before Mark stops and slowly sets you back onto your feet. “You can open now.”
Your eyes open immediately, impatient to know what the surprise was.
The world has already crashed and burned. Can it happen twice in one lifetime?
Sam is in front of you, a small tired smile on her face. She looks beaten up but alive.
You feel sick again.
Mark's hands fall to your waist to keep you upright.
“Sam—“
She’s hugging you. Your whole body goes rigid, arms limp at your sides. “You’re okay,” she sighs, “He said you would be but—“ She leans back, eyes darting to your neck. Her face falls, “Did he—“
“No,” you say immediately, “No. He saved me.” She sighs, smiling, glancing back at Mark before settling back on you, “Promise?” You nod. She nods in turn then pulls you in for another hug. Mark gently squeezes your hips before letting go. With a shaky breath, you return the hug.
“I missed you,” she mumbles, “So much.”
You tighten your grip around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck, “You’re okay. I wasn’t sure if …”
“Mark!”
Mark grabs you suddenly, pulling you away from her. A soft choked sound punched from your throat. “Samantha, you need to leave,” he says, voice low, “Now.” She glances at you, mouthing a soft ‘stay safe’ before disappearing behind the curtain.
Mark turns back at you, “Keep your head down. And don’t say a word.”
“But—“
He holds your face in his hands, “Please.” You nod. He sighs, kissing your forehead before turning back, face stoic once again. You shift behind him and lower your gaze.
“Mark,” a deep voice calls out, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” “Father,” Mark responds, voice monotone. Your not looking at him but you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand when his gaze falls to you, “I see you brought your pet.” Mark’s hands ball into fists behind his back. Without thinking, you reach up, gently laying your hand over his own.
You tell yourself it’s so he doesn’t go berserk and kill everyone. But it brings you both a sense of comfort.
“Yes,” Mark replies after a moment. “And she’s in our ceremonial clothing,” his father adds, “Disgrace.” It takes everything in you not to flinch. “It’s protocol, father,” Mark defends. The man scoffs, “I heard what happened with Annisa. I’m glad she left her mark on such a weak picking.” Mark’s grip on your hand tightens. “Annisa attacked her without being provoked. She comes near my … pet again I will kill her. I’ve already made that very clear,” Mark explains.
Mark's father is silent for an unnerving amount of time, “Very well. We have a speech to give anyways. Let us go.” Mark gently squeezes your hand before he lets go, “Lead the way.” Mark and his father leave.
“You can look up now, dear.”
Your gaze snaps up to meet a soft voice. The woman smiles, “I’m Debbie. That was my husband, Nolan. And you know my son, Mark.”
“I’m—“
“I know, dear,” Debbie smiles, “You’re Mark’s favorite thing to talk about, ya know? Everytime we talk, he mentions you. I haven’t seen that boy smile since he was a toddler.” Something flutters in your stomach. Butterflies? No way. “I know it’s scary, but that boy does care about you,” Debbie continues, “I know that sounds weird, but it’s true.”
“Because he wants to reproduce with me?”
Debbie pauses, “You two haven’t … oh my. He should’ve done it the first night he had you.” She sighs and smiles, “If Nolan asks, you two have been trying, okay? For your own safety.” You blink, “I’m confused.” Debbie shakes her head, “Viltrumites don’t ask before they take. Whether it’s planets or people.”
“He didn’t really … ask. I just said I wasn’t ready,” you mumble. “Oh dear,” she whispers, “Maybe he cares for you more than I thought.” Before you could ask her to clarify, the lights dimmed and you could hear the faint sound of microphone feedback.
〤〤〤
“Mark … can I ask you something?”
He looks at you, brushing hair from your face, “Yes?” You swallow, “Why haven’t you … tried to reproduce with me?” Mark freezes, “Are you ready?” You look away, “I don’t know. It’s just … your mom said Viltrumites don’t usually wait this long. I was wondering if you had second thoughts.” Mark gently cups your face and turns your head back to look at him, “I am not my father. I am not Annisa. I will not force myself on someone. Especially you.”
“Why?”
“Humans are … not what I was expecting. Yes, they were killing their own planet and some of them are horrible but … you are one of the good ones. Not just because you were a hero. I watched you for those three weeks, watched you help people when you yourself were on the verge of collapsing. You are strong in ways Viltrumites do not grasp. And for that I wish to never break. So if I have to wait a hundred years for you to accept my offer then I will.”
You swallow the lump on your throat. You don’t have the heart to tell him your biological clock runs out in twenty-ish years.
Without thinking, you surge forward, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “And … if I never do,” you ask. Marks wraps his arms around you, “My bloodline has to continue one way or another. But you will not be thrown away if you do not want me.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “Do you have someone else in mind?”
“No,” he responds immediately, “Which means my father will be in charge of who it is. Which means—“
“Annisa,” you finish for him. Mark tightens his grip around you, “Yes.”
I am, in fact, not dead! I’m sorry it took so long to update had writers block and then got food poisoning, lol so it’s been a while! I know I don’t have a regular posting schedule but I still feel bad I made you wait so long.
captain john price who’s just a natural leader. He’s had it in him since he was just a wee lad. people just always gravitated towards him and over the years, he’s come to enjoy the natural dominance he has over others.
first, he meets gaz and gaz is the perfect subordinate. not only does he understand the hierarchy, but price can literally see the glimmer in Gaz’s eyes- eagerness to prove that he’s a good soldier.
then there’s you. you’re young, bright eyed, and similar to gaz, eager to please. he swears “yes sir” are your two favorite words. and just like gaz, he takes you under his wing.
you and gaz flourish under his leadership, learning exceptionally fast and in the meantime, forming a “special bond.”
it takes him a bit- but price notices. At first, it’s you offering your water bottle when gaz runs out. And then it’s the playful nudges at the dinner table. And even during movie nights, you two are suddenly sitting side by side rather than with price in the middle.
so, with his two best soldiers at heart, he calls you both into his office. “You two have anything you want to tell me?”
you and gaz give each other an odd look- perhaps out of confusion or just pure reluctance. “don’t think I haven’t noticed what’s been going on between you two.”
when you’re both silent, eyes straight ahead, and still as a board, price sighs. “Look, I’m not mad.”
you finally crack, “you’re not?” And your question confirms everything he needs to know.
price stalks over to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “No, I’m not. But I’m saying this in your best interest. There’s lots to think about when you start a relationship. This isn’t high school.”
“We know that, sir.” gaz takes a step closer to you, intertwining your fingers together. prices focus drifts, watching the way gaz has his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the backside of your hand.
“You both know I want what’s best for you, right?” To which you both nod quickly- as you both always did. “Good- I’m gonna help you two through this, yeah?”
and in hindsight, you probably should have asked a few more questions but “yes sir” came so easily with price.
so gradually, price helps you two get on the same assignments. then he’s suggesting gift ideas for national girlfriend day to gaz. and soon, he even manages to move you both in same barracks despite genders usually being split.
and when all is going well, price calls you into his office again.
“Alls good on the home front?”
this time, gaz is more confident as he holds your hand in his. “Very. Thank you, sir, or helping.”
price nods approvingly. joy swells in his chest as he watches his two favorite kids grow up into real adults. “so now that you two have been getting along, it’s time for the next step in your relationship.”
“Next step?” you ask softly, tilting your head in confusion.
“how do you feel about intimacy?”
you both turn to look at each other before a blush creeps on your cheeks. Gaz nearly mirrors your actions as you both bashfully look away.
price let’s put an amused laugh. “I’ll take that as a no.” he circles around you both, clapping a hand on both of your backs which startles you both. “how ‘bout we start today?”
there’s some brief hesitation, but then overall agreement when price assures you again that is all “for your best interest.”
so price instructs both of you to strip down. it’s humiliating to say the least, but that feeling sits beside a needing ache as your eyes land on gaz’s warm and bare skin.
he has gaz lay you down on his desk as he takes his seat in the large leather chair. “Right there, Kyle. Get in between them legs. See how it’s leaking? Good sign, son.”
Gaz lets out a shuddered breath. the sight of your glistening folds has his dick jumping with excitement. instinctively, he kneels down, arms wrapping around your thighs and bringing to his drooling mouth.
price keeps quiet, observing the way gaz experimentally licks a stripe up your sopping slit, taking in the way you gasp and jerk eat time he reaches your sensitive clitty.
he watches the way your hips start to chase more and more- eager for a friction that gaz is just too polite to give. so price stands up, walking to behind gaz. he grabs a fistful of his hair to which gaz groans deep into your cunt before pressing his face against your deprived core. “she’s not a porcelain doll, son. you gotta get in there.”
you shudder, hips humping poor Gaz’s face as he’s probably losing oxygen by the second. but you just can’t help it- not when it feels so. damn. good.
and when price things gaz can handle it on his own, he lets go. he knows gaz is a fast learner after all. price makes his way to your head, keen to the way you’re whimpering and sobbing? is that a tear?
he kneels down, palm pressed on your forehead. “Aww, poor baby. these are good tears, yeah?”
you nod furiously, “w-wanna…I’m- oh! oh! cum…cumming!”
and when you’re both a little too drunk on pleasure, he stands, sinking his cock onto your gasping mouth. his eyes flutter briefly, letting out a deep groan as he watches you writhe and quite literally feels you whimpering as you climax.
when gaz pulls away, he’s too memorized to notice anything but the way your pussy is practically begging to be fucked. his eyes are glazed over with one thought and one thought only.
price leans over the table, cock sliding deeper in your throat in the process. he flattens out his palm, running it down your stomach until he’s fingering your entrance. “give me your hand, kyle.”
gaz complies. price overlaps his hand with gaz’s, guiding it to your entrance. he pushes in two of gaz’s, and then one of his own.
Gaz watches in amazement at the way your pussy opens up so willingly for not one, not two, but three thick fingers. each pulse of your cunt is mirrored with a twitch of his dick, eager to feel the warmth around his own member.
price curls his finger, pushing against gaz who mimics the movement. “You feel that? that little spongey thing?”
“yes, sir.”
you let out a mewl, knees jerking close instinctively.
price delivers a sharp and firm slap to each thigh. “open up, soldier. keep ‘em there.”
he watches in wonders as your legs settle, complying with his orders before shifting his focus back to gaz. “You wanna hit that every time, understood?”
price withdraws his fingers, standing back up straight as gaz does the same. gaz takes his cock, pumping his length one and then twice before lining it up with your sopping puss.
with a deep and gutting moan, gaz fills you up with one firm press of his hips. his head drops back and he swears he’s seeing stars. he whines ever so softly, bucking his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your warm hole.
“how’s it feel?”
“l-like heaven, sir.”
it doesn’t take long before gaz’s hips chase the never ending reward of being engulfed in your divine. he’s panting, firm hands on your hips, bringing you to the base of his cock with every stroke.
price smiles in satisfaction, watching his mentee bloom with confidence. now that gaz is settled, he focuses back on you.
he withdraws his cock and it leaves a lewd string of saliva connecting it to your plump lips. “nice look you got there.”
he’s in fact referring to the way your eyes are glossy with need and the thin sheen of sweat of your forehead that only adds to the alluring mess. he runs his have over your upper body before finding home around your chest, letting his thumb softly trace over your perked nipples.
he slides his cock back into your slacked jaw, not thrusting, not rolling, merely resting it in your warmth.
gaz leans his body over yours, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck as he desperately humps into you. and being the perfect rule follower he is- he’s thrusting right into the same spot over and over. thank goodness price was there to help him find it.
“Oh, baby- oh fuck, you feel so good. baby, baby, oh b-baby.” he’s whimpering into your ear, hot breath grazing your neck as if almost suffocating you.
price looks down adoringly, watching his two favorite subordinates completely in a euphoric high. there’s something so satisfying about the way you both are shaking with need and clumsily moving your bodies to get off on one another.
price withdraws his cock, stuffing it back into his pants before taking his seat again at the head of the desk. “Fast learners you both are.”
And in a broken unison, you both reply on instinct. “Th-thank you, sir.”
thinking about clark holding your hand during sex...
tags — 18+ minors dni | f!reader, unprotected sex, clark talks you through it, size kink/difference, pet names (sweetheart & baby), clark calls reader beautiful, creampie (0.8k wc)
clark gently cups your face with his hand—his big palm cradling your jaw. his thumb brushes against your cheek as he stretches you open inch by inch. your breath catches, walls fluttering around him, already feeling full.
his pace is steady, slow but deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. his body engulfs yours, his thighs naturally forcing your body apart for him. your hands are all over him, fingers dragging across heated skin, nails scraping over the hard planes of his back.
“breathe for me, baby,” he rasps, sliding his hand up your arm and weaving his fingers through yours and lacing them together.
you try, you really do, but fuck, the burn—it's sharp, making your thighs tremble and hips jerk. he’s big, ridiculously so and your walls clench around him instinctively, trying to pull him deeper.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear as he brings your joined hands to rest beside your head on the pillow. “taking me so well.”
“mmph—clark!” you moan, feeling his thick, flushed head probe and stretch you to your limit.
the pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over again—dark curls beneath his navel brushing against your clit. clark’s gaze drops, watching where his cock disappears into you, your slick coating him and dripping onto the sheets below.
“doin’ so good f’me,” he pants, hiking one of your legs around his waist.
the bed frame creaks in time with his thrusts—his cock stretching you open deliciously. his hand tightens against yours, eyes transfixed at the sight of your face contorting in pleasure. your moans spill free, lewd and needy, mixing with the slick sounds of him fucking into you.
“so fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough.
“clark—!” your voice cracks on his name.
you feel all of him, every ridge and vein as he rocks into your heat. his thrusts pick up—he’s still holding back but not much as before. you lock your ankles at the base of his spine, heels digging into his back and pulling him in deeper.
every thrust makes your breath hitch, your body rocking with his. clark dips his head, his lips finding their way to your pulse point—sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. his hand squeezes yours and the muscles in his forearm constrict as he keeps himself propped up.
the feeling of his cock is too much, yet somehow, not enough. you arch your back, desperate for more and clark slips his free hand under your lower back to support the curve. the new angle has you moaning in ecstasy and the need for a release becomes greater and greater.
“you close, baby?” he mumbles, sweat dripping down the column of his neck.
unable to stop the gasps tumbling from your lips, you nod dumbly as he fills you over and over again. the rhythmic sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing fills the bedroom with each thrust from clark bringing a new wave of pleasure, leaving you wanting more.
clark moves his hand from your back and shifts it to your stomach—feeling where he was inside you, how he filled you completely. his palm presses down gently against the bulge of your stomach causing your toes to curl.
“see that?” clark manages between pants. “that’s all me…”
you feel him throb and pulse inside you as his thumb slides lower and circles your clit. that added stimulation, in time with his thrusts, sends shockwaves down your spine and the sound that slips past your lips is embarrassingly needy.
“i’ve got you, sweetheart,” clark whispers, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.
you are unbelievably close and one more thrust is all you need before your orgasm washes over you. a broken moan tumbles from your lips as clark fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own.
clark’s hand tightens against yours as his thrusts become sloppy—his own orgasm crashing over him. his hips stutter as he buries himself to the hilt and stays there—pulsing hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you.
it feels endless—each spurt of cum painting your insides and filling you beyond capacity. you clench around him, your cunt milking every last drop until his cum starts to leak around the base of him, dripping down his balls.
clark rocks his hips lazily into your puffy, swollen cunt, his cock still thick and throbbing. your hips jerk weakly as his thumb continues to rub your clit raw—prolonging your orgasm.
slowly, clark brings the back of your hand to his lips and kisses it softly as he begins to pull out—your nails leaving crescent marks against his skin. a soft whimper escapes you as he leaves your swollen cunt.
you’re wrecked, and so is he. your cunt misses his cock already, glistening and stretched from taking him so deep. your release mixes with his, sticky strings connecting your folds to his slick, flushed cock.
“easy, baby,” he murmurs, watching you clench around nothing. “i know… i know.”
─ ˚₊⊹ᰔ Toji calls u pup, backshots (yum), squirting
Your nose began to twitch as you picked up the scent of the owner—a whiff of that husky aroma with a hint of sweat had you running up to Toji the minute he got his heavy boots stepped on the rug, tail wagging furiously and practically licking all over him.
“Pouncin’ on me more than usual. Must’ve chewed on some shit.” He grumbled while stepping around those fuckass squeaky toys that he knew he would have to pick up after.
You gasped at the accusation—you? Chew on something that wasn’t the washed out teddy bear with a million bite marks on it? Blasphemy!
“Just missed you Jiji..” you murmured on the couch until you heard him call your name in that tone that made your tail stiffen.
“Pup, bring your ass over here.” Your head hung low and you scanned all possible exits when he held up a stitched pillow that was torn up with feathers spilling all out.
“You chew on this shit? And then you’re gonna jump up in my face like you didn’t do anything?”
All you could do was whine under his gaze, your tail tucking between your legs.
“You whinin’ pup? Chewed this shit up and you got the nerve to fucking whine?" You didn't see Toji angry much. But when you did, it made your body freeze up in fear.
your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to diffuse the situation. "It wasn't me, Toji I swear.."
A dark chuckle left his lips that made your stomach sink. He walked right in front of you on that couch and stared down directly at you. He had that glint in his eyes, the one you knew he got when you riled his ass up.
"Are you really lying to me right now?"
You couldn't answer. Not with your heart racing. You just gulped while your ears folded down. The tears welling up in your eyes seemed to be the last straw for Toji.
“Keep looking at me with that pitiful look and I’ll fuck it off your face.”
Maybe you should've just fessed up and apologized. Maybe then he would let you go with a few spanks instead of fucking your cunt with your face smushed into the pillow.
That little bell on your pink lacy collar continuously ringed with each brutal thrust Toji delivered to your puffy pussy. It almost drowned out the wet sound of skin slapping and your loud whines as Toji drives into you from behind. Your mind felt numb with that you could barely even move and just lay there and moaning and slobbering into the pillow.
You were pulled out your trance when a sharp, stinging slap came down your ass. “Keep that back arched. No more fucking respect for your owner now huh?”
"M'sorry Jiji!—Fuckkk!” A long moan escaped your throat once you felt his tip nudge that spongy spot that had your knees bucking. Your eyes were glossy with those tears from earlier freely falling to your already messy face.
His hands that were digging into your hips came down to rub your swollen nub, your moans drowning out into a silent scream as your eyes nearly rolled back at the pleasure.
“Look at this little pussy creaming all over me." His eyes were glued to the nasty scene below him. He spread your ass, relishing in the way your folds struggled to accommodate his thickness. The way you pulsed and clenched around him only made him pick his pace up, only getting meaner and meaner. “Don't even—shit, deserve to be fucked like this.”
You practically gurgled a moan when he planted a foot on the bed and hit even deeper. Your pussy was pressed up against his balls and rutting into places you didn't even know existed. A warm, strong feeling in your stomach snuck up on you. One that had you feeling you were about to pee on him.
“W-wait Jiji, m'gonna pee..” You slurred out but before you could ever warn him a stream of your clear juices sprayed on the sheets, pushing Toji out.
Your brain barely registered what happened after you flopped onto the bed with any form of energy drained out of you. All you heard was Toji laughing at you and patting your soaked pussy.
“Just pissing all over me. Gotta teach my pup some manners, yeah?”
꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ — I don't like it but when do I ever like anything
clutching your teddy bear while stepdaddy!toji fucks you nasty
wc ; ~700 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
You were on your stomach, face buried deep into your fluffy pink teddy bear, clutching tight onto it.
Toji’s massive body hovered over you, knees planted on each side of your bent over body on the bed as he shoved your thighs apart wider. His thick cock was already halfway inside your soaked pussy, stretching you open in that brutal, familiar way.
“Fuck… still so tight every time,” he growled low, voice rough and lazy. He pushed in deeper with one slow, heavy thrust until his hips were flush against your ass, balls pressed against your clit.
You let out a broken whimper into the teddy bear, biting down hard on its soft ear.
Toji chuckled darkly, one hand gripping your waist while the other reached up to push your head harder into the pillow.
“Shhh. Bite your little bear if you gotta, but keep that noise down. Wouldn’t want your mom waking up to see her precious daughter getting fucked stupid by her stepdad, would we?”
He pulled back almost all the way, letting you feel every inch drag out of your dripping cunt, before slamming back in so hard your body jolted forward. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room.
You squeaked into the teddy, tears already wetting its fur. Toji leaned down, his scarred lip brushing your ear as he started pounding you with deep, nasty strokes.
“Yeah… that’s it. Hug your fuckin’ teddy tighter while I ruin this pussy.”
Every thrust was mean and deliberate just like his words. His thick cock bullied your walls, hitting that spot that made your toes curl and your brain melt. Your juices were dripping down your thighs, making a mess on the sheets.
“Look at you,” he grunted, voice dripping with mockery, “clutching that stuffed animal like a good girl while your stepdad splits you open. Pathetic… and so fucking wet for me.”
He reached under you and rubbed rough circles on your swollen clit, making your legs shake violently.
You moaned louder into the bear, hips twitching back against him even as you tried to run from the overwhelming pleasure. Toji laughed low, speeding up, fucking you harder, the bed creaking under his power.
“Gonna cum already? Go ahead, baby. Cream on daddy’s cock while you cry into your teddy. Just don’t scream… or I’ll have to stuff that pretty mouth next.” He threatened.
His pace turned rapid, hips snapping against your ass with wet, filthy sounds as he chased his own high, grunting against your neck.
You were a trembling, drooling mess — face smashed into the soaked teddy bear, pussy clenching tight around Toji’s cock as he fucked you through it, nasty and unrelenting.
He came with a loud groan, buried in you to the hilt. He pulled his glistening cock out of your creampied and slapped the heavy, messy tip of his cock against your sensitive pussy. Once, twice, three times, the wet — smack smack smack — sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“Fuck… look at that,” he rasped, voice low and satisfied. “Such a greedy little cunt. Couldn’t even keep all of daddy’s cum inside.”
He dragged his cum-covered tip up and down your slit, smearing the mess all over your swollen folds and clit, occasionally giving your pussy another firm slap that made you whimper out.
“Aw, don’t cry into your little bear now,” he mocked, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear. “You took it so well… even when I was balls deep breeding you.”
He gave your ass a rough squeeze, then slid two thick fingers down to push some of his leaking cum back inside your puffy pussy.
“Keep it in there like a good girl. I’ll be back in the morning to fuck it right back in. Understand?”
You nodded weakly into the teddy bear, too fucked out to speak, as he pats your head.
Toji smirked, finally pulling away. He gave your ass one last hard slap before standing up, his cum still dripping down your thighs as he tucked his messy cock back into his sweats.
✮ getting stuck in an elevator with two hot bosses who want you cannot be that bad, right? *pwp
"shit, we're gonna be here a while," nanami breathed out annoyed and loosened his tie after the dispatcher didn't answer again and the call button totally stopped working. your shift ended like three hours ago, but you were still there, typical you, obsessing over some report. the office was totally empty.
well, except for two department heads you were lucky enough to get stuck with in one cramped elevator.
the elevator felt way too small for three adults. you were basically squeezed between them and could feel the heat coming off their bodies. behind you was nanami's tall figure, and right in front of you — higuruma. both were a head taller than you, wider in the shoulders, and fucking hot.
i mean, it wasn't for nothing that you always wore short skirts even though the dress code said no, that you accidentally spilled coffee on higuruma's pants so you could apologize with bambi eyes and wipe a napkin near his cock. for months you played a dangerous game: you leaned over a little more than you should, showed off your chest when you sat across from him, brushed your shoulder against nanami's in the narrow hallway, and left documents on hiromi's desk that were soaked in your boldest perfume. you teased both of them at the same time, gave them hope, but always slipped away the second their stares got too heavy. a little flirting is fun, alright?
but right now you weren't having fun at all.
nanami slowly leaned in. his hot breath hit your ear, making you shiver. "you look spooked, sweetheart. you okay?" he said, and he sounded dangerously protective. "y-yeah, i'm fine," you gulped, trying not to look at him. "it's just super hot in here."
you noticed nanami lookedup at higuruma. for a while they just stared at each other in silence, and then this slow, knowing grin spread across both their faces. that look made your knees go weak. higuruma took his time taking off his jacket. he did it slow, eyes locked on yours, and tossed the expensive thing right on the dirty floor.
"what a shame," he said, rolling up his sleeves and showing off those strong forearms. "maybe we should talk about your behavior."
before you could get a single word out, nanami's heavy hands landed on your waist. he pulled you back, pressing you into his hard chest. "you've been waiting for this the whole time, haven't you?" he whispered into your hair. "teasing us so much."
"i... i have no idea what you're talking about," your voice shook, and your heart was thumping so loud they both definitely heard it. hiromi stepped even closer. his hands hit your thighs, bunching up your skirt. "oh, trust me, you know exactly what we're talking about."
they literally crushed you between them, and you felt the burning heat of their bodies. nanami grabbed your chin and pulled it up, forcing you to look at him. "i think it's time to teach you a lesson."
he didn't let you scream — his mouth covered yours in a demanding kiss. he kissed you deep, filling you up with himself, while hiromi went for your neck at the same time, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. your head started spinning and reality started to blur.
nanami pulled back from your lips for a second and then with one sharp, confident move he grabbed you by the waist. before you could even gasp, you were up in the air. he held you there, making your legs spread wide and hooking your knees over his arms. now you were basically hanging on him — your back pressed against his chest, and you were completely open in front of both of them.
your short skirt rode up to your waist, leaving you in just thin panties. nanami went back to your ear, nibbling on your lobe and cheek before sliding down to your neck. meanwhile, higuruma slowly unbuttoned your blouse, button by button, and as the fabric parted, he started biting your chest, making you arch in kento’s arms.
"wait— mmnh! hiromi..." you gasped, "there're cameras in the elevator... maybe we should go..."
"don't worry 'bout that, darling," nanami laughed low and soft, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "don't you worry your pretty little head."
hiromi finally threw your shirt open and slowly moved down with kisses toward your stomach. "just enjoy what we're gonna do now, okay?"
he got down on his knees, and you felt his hot breath scorch your delicate skin. he didn't rush. first, his lips barely brushed the inside of your thighs, leaving light, almost weightless kisses that sent an electric charge through your body. you felt nanami tighten his grip on your knees from behind, locking you in the air; you literally couldn't move.
"look how wet she is. perfect," hiromi rasped, looking at how the slick glistened on your already damp pussy. "you wanted this, didn't you? for us to see how much this little pussy leaks when it's needy?"
"n-nngh!... hiromi…" your moan drowned in the quiet hum of the elevator as he lifted two fingers and unceremoniously stretched your folds apart to fully expose you. at first, he just teased you with the tip of his tongue, short and wet strokes. you felt him lick away the drops, smacking his lips, savoring your taste.
"mmngh! haah! please…" you jerked in nanami’s arms, but he just held you tighter against his chest. "hold on, sweetie, we're just gettin' started," he whispered in your ear, and at that moment, he started to slowly rotate your hips in circular motions.
those circles made you literally rub against hiromi’s face. you felt the stubble on his chin, his nose pressing into your already swollen clit, and his tongue going right into your soaking pussy. wet, obscene sounds echoed in the cramped elevator.
"haah! more… nngh!" you weren't in control of your sounds anymore, gasping with pleasure. "oh yeah," hiromi growled, not pulling away for a second, "you're so sweet. i'm gonna lick you dry 'til you start beggin' us to stop."
his pace picked up. he went rougher now. hiromi didn't tease anymore. he took your clit between his lips and started sucking on it hungrily like he’d fuckin' die if he didn't.
"a-ah! hiromi! nngh-aa!" you screamed, throwing your head back on nanami’s shoulder while he kissed your cheek, holding you in place, and your cry echoed through the tight cabin.
hiromi’s tongue went deep between your stretched folds, licking everything inside, while the two fingers he’d managed to shove in kept roughly stretching you, opening every millimeter of your tender flesh for his mouth. loud, squelching sounds of your pussy and the wet sounds of his mouth filled the elevator.
"mmm, look what you're doin' to us," nanami kept rotating your pelvis, forcing you to grind even harder onto hiromi’s tongue. "you wanted this, didn't you? walkin' 'round in front of us in those skirts that show off your ass?"
"haah! mmngh… ahh! more… more!" you didn't even know what you were saying anymore. the man behind you didn't give you a second's break — his palm covered your mouth, muffling your next moan. "hiromi, please… mmmngh-ah!" you broke free from nanami’s hand, and your moans got louder. "yes! right there! ahh-h!"
nanami pulled his hand away from your face only to sink into your lips, catching your next whimper. "stick out your tongue, baby," he whispered, and you obeyed before you could even think. "come on."
as soon as you parted your mouth and the tip of your tongue peeked out, nanami let out a low growl and bit into your lips. he captured your tongue with his lips and started sucking on it, slow and greedy. "mmmmmfff!.. kento!... " you moaned right into his mouth, feeling your whole body tighten like a string.
nanami sucked your tongue rhythmically, like he owned it, making you gasp for air. meanwhile, higuruma, feeling your reaction, stretched your folds even wider and sucked on your clit with twice the force. "mmmngh... most perfect sweet pussy. gonna eat this little swollen clit up."
your sounds turned totally incoherent, becoming a solid stream of moans and ragged breaths mixed with whimpers. nanami pulled away from your tongue for a second, his whisper brushing right against your lips. "good girl. hear how loud you're bein' for us?"
your body was stretched to the limit, like a wire about to snap. nanami kept dominantly sucking your tongue, cutting off your oxygen and making you choke on your own moans while his hips rhythmically rotated your pelvis, grinding you into hiromi’s face. you thrashed convulsively in kento’s arms, feeling everything inside tighten into an unbearably hard, hot knot.
higuruma, feeling your orgasm coming, stretched your already swollen folds with his fingers until it almost hurt, and for the last time, sucked your clit in as deep as possible, licking it frantically. a loud, dominant squelching filled the cramped elevator.
"a-a-ah! kent— oh god, i'm gonna... mmmngh-a-a-a!" your scream broke into a rasp as the first wave of orgasm literally ripped through you.
you felt your muscles inside start to contract uncontrollably, pulsing hot wetness right onto hiromi’s face. you shuddered all over, your legs on nanami’s shoulders shaking with a fine tremor. kento pulled away from your tongue at that moment just to catch your wide-open mouth in a silent scream and greedily breathe in your orgasmic moan.
you gasped, your head falling onto nanami’s shoulder as white spots swam before your eyes. hiromi didn't stop even when you started twitching in convulsions. he kept greedily licking and sucking up your slick, which was now dripping down his chin and lips.
"hiromi, stop... ah... i can't anymore..." you went limp in kento’s arms, feelin' a heavy, leaden weakness spread through your body. you barely breathed, pressing your forehead against nanami’s shoulder. your body still shook with small, lingerin' tremors, and your head was a total vacuum. you were literally floating in the clouds after such a crushing orgasm, feeling like soft, pliable clay in their hands.
but the blissful silence didn't last long. nanami pulled back a bit to look at your face and took you by the chin, forcing your blurred gaze to focus on him.
"you think that’s it, darling?" his voice sounded scary calm and low. "you really think we're gonna let you come just once?"
your eyes widened. you tried to say something, but only a weak, ragged exhale escaped your throat. "what're you..."
hiromi slowly pulled away and got up from his knees. his lips glistened wetly, and there was a streak of your juices on his chin that he didn't even think about wipin' off. he looked down at you, fixing his shirt cuffs.
"that was just the start," he tossed out, and his voice vibrated in the tight cabin. you were still hangin' in nanami’s arms, legs shaking, and your mind was fading. "n-no... wait..." you tried to pull your thoughts together, "someone could walk in right now... the dispatcher... he might hear through the intercom..."
nanami just laughed low against your neck, and that sound made you shrink. he didn't let you go. instead, he shifted his grip to get comfortable and started to slowly, intentionally rub your aching, oversensitive cunt against his huge, rock-hard cock through the fabric of his pants.
"ah!" you sobbed, whimpering from the unbearable pleasure that bordered on torture. "nanami..." "we could just call the dispatcher again so help comes right now," kento whispered, keepin' up the methodical grind against you, squeezin' out new portions of wetness that now fell in heavy drops and dripped onto the elevator floor. your heels had been lyin' in the corner for a while now. "is that what you want? you want us to get pulled out of here right now?"
he didn't stop, and you felt his hardness throb, promisin' somethin' way bigger. at that moment, hiromi stepped in close. he cupped your face in his palms and sank into your lips with a deep, greedy kiss. you tasted yourself mixed with his hot spit — intimate, and crazy turning you on.
"m-m-m," he hummed into your mouth, pulling back only a millimeter. "is this what you want?" you should've said "yes." you should've screamed 'bout how they broke all the rules, how hierarchy was trashed, and how you're all gonna get fired in disgrace. you should've stopped this.
but you didn't. your first orgasm was so mind-blowing that all you could think about was the throbbing weight you felt with your ass through nanami’s clothes. you couldn't even dream of just one of them in your wildest fantasies, but getting both at once? that was the kind of extreme greed they write about in books.
“n-no…” you aggressively shook your head, completely forgetting you were in the damn elevator of an office building. your hands dug into higuruma’s shoulders on their own, and you started desperately, almost insanely grinding against the man behind you in every way possible, begging for more with your body alone.
hiromi gave a faint, barely noticeable smile without taking his eyes off you, watching the way you writhed in kento’s hands. “that’s what we thought. dirty girl… you spent months tempting your bosses just so they’d fuck you at the same time?”
you barely heard him. his words drowned in the rush of blood pounding in your ears, and you only nodded quickly, feverishly, agreeing with every word he said. “c’mon, baby,” nanami caught you with one hand, giving you more space, “use your hands. take my pants off.”
with trembling fingers, you reached behind you as much as the cramped space allowed and touched his cock through the fabric for the first time. nanami let out a low, rough groan and pushed himself into your palm, rolling his hips forward. you tried to feel more of him, but kento only tightened his grip on your waist.
“baby, i just had to sit there without getting to taste you. you’d better hurry up.” you frantically searched for his belt buckle, but your fingers wouldn’t cooperate. you couldn’t see what you were doing behind your back, and helpless little whines started slipping out of you.
“i-i can’t do it… kento, i can’t…” you sobbed, tears blurring your vision. nanami laughed quietly, enjoying your desperation. “what an impatient girl, huh?”
he jerked his hips sharply to help you, and finally you managed to undo the belt. then the button and zipper gave in too. his pants slipped down, and immediately, without waiting, you covered his cock with your hand over his boxers. nanami threw his head back, sucking in air through his teeth with a hiss. you moaned too — just the thought of him being inside you turned you into a melted, shapeless mess.
by then, hiromi already pulled his pants down slightly. you froze as you looked at him. his cock looked intimidating: long, heavy, veins standing out clearly along it, the tip already wet. exactly the one you imagined whenever you touched yourself.
you breathed heavily, your pussy still pulsing after your orgasm while your hands already pulled down the blond man’s boxers behind you. the second his cock came free, it pressed against your ass with a dull thud. you felt the heat of it against your skin.
nanami wrapped a hand around himself and slowly dragged the tip over your untouched back hole first. panic shot through you instantly, your voice turning high and almost frightened. “kento!.. please, kento…”
he immediately buried himself against your neck, kissing you greedily with his mouth open, leaving your skin wet and burning. “relax,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your body. “we’re not going there… for now.”
you relaxed a little, but the realization crashed over you in another wave: that meant they were both going to fuck you. at the same time.
your thoughts didn’t even have time to form into words before higuruma stepped closer. he cupped your face, gently but firmly sucking on your lower lip before pulling away and looking directly into your eyes.
“if it hurts, just tell us, okay?” his voice sounded serious, almost gentle. “we won’t do anything that’ll hurt you. we’re here to give you what you’ve been begging for all this time. tell me you understand.”
you only nodded shakily, unable to force out a single word. “use your words, sweetheart,” nanami insisted, pressing his cock against your lower back. you swallowed hard, your voice rough from all the screaming and moaning. “i… i understand. yeah. please…”
nanami adjusted his grip on you more comfortably, one arm still holding your weight while the other slowly, carefully guided his cock. at first, he only teased you with it, dragging the tip through your folds, coating himself in all your slickness, practically soaking himself in your juices before finally giving one decisive thrust.
he pushed in slowly, giving you time to feel every inch of his impossible thickness. you cried out instantly and grabbed onto higuruma’s shoulders with a death grip. meanwhile, hiromi pressed himself flush against you, holding your hips steady and helping you keep your balance while his eyes tracked every shaky breath you took.
he really was huge. you felt him literally forcing your insides apart, pushing so deep that every experience you’d ever had before suddenly felt like some pathetic joke. your head fell back, your moans breaking apart into weak little whines.
“mmmngh! kento… haa-ah… hurts… no, feels good… god—!” you choked on the words as he filled you completely. “that’s it, sweetheart, take all of me,” nanami rasped, his voice vibrating through your body.
“you’re too big… kento, you’re too big…” “i know, baby,” he started moving inside you slowly, deeply, “it’ll feel better soon. just relax for me.”
while that happened, higuruma kissed his way down your neck to your chest, which already spilled out of your bra cups. he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking greedily while nanami kept thrusting into you from behind.
“fuck…” kento growled, picking up the pace. “knew you’d have a fucking heavenly pussy… she’s squeezing me so tight.” all you could do was whine and sob. “ah! mmngh!! feels so good… more… haaah!”
“yeah?” higuruma pulled away from your chest, his gaze turning sharp and hungry. “it’s about to feel even better.” nanami cupped your face with both hands, turned you toward him, and crashed his mouth against yours in a deep kiss. “take a breath,” he ordered right against your lips.
you were already completely fucked stupid from his cock and the heat of their bodies. the second you gasped for air, you felt another huge, hard shape starting to push into you. hiromi entered you from the front, and you practically whimpered into nanami’s kiss while your fingers dug into higuruma’s shirt hard enough to make the fabric strain.
the moment he fully pushed inside, stretching you beyond anything imaginable, you screamed so loudly it felt like your voice tore through the entire building. “oh god! god! fuck… fuck! a-ah-ahh!”
tears spilled from your eyes automatically from the shock and overwhelming fullness. nanami laughed low against your lips, licking away the salty wetness. “no god here, sweetheart. we’re the ones making you scream like that.”
both of them stayed still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the unbearable stretch. hiromi’s hand squeezed your breast possessively while nanami bit at your shoulder and every patch of exposed skin he could reach.
it felt like forever or maybe only a few seconds — you had no idea anymore. the only thing you knew was that you needed them. “more… want more… please…”
“our girl’s getting greedy, huh?” higuruma smirked while looking at your flushed face. “one cock isn’t enough anymore? now you always want two?” then they started moving. together. hard. rhythmic.
it felt like your pussy was about to split apart, your whole body turning into one shaking, dripping mess. you moaned and whimpered while they kept taking turns kissing you, your chin already soaked with spit, your face damp with sweat and their touches. saliva and slick ran down your neck and chest, and you were pretty sure there was already a puddle forming on the elevator floor beneath you.
their movements turned sharp and perfectly synchronized, and you felt them practically pounding you into the narrow space between them. nanami set a deep, animalistic pace from behind while hiromi matched every thrust from the front, forcing your body to stretch to its absolute limit. the cramped elevator filled with unbearable wet sounds: skin slapping against skin, heavy male growls, and your endless, choking moans mixed with the smell of all your arousal.
“ah! haaah… nngh! fuck, kento… romi… a-ahh!” you cried out when they bumped against each other inside you, trapping your womb between them.
“look at this fucking mess,” hiromi rasped without taking his eyes off the place where your bodies merged together. “you’re sucking us in so greedily. such a needy little hole for your bosses.”
nanami grabbed your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could see your face twisted with pleasure. “hear those sounds, baby?” he slammed into you hard, and the elevator filled with a loud, filthy squelch. “that’s all you. you’re so fucking wet we’re practically drowning in you.”
“mmmngh! yes… more… ” you couldn’t even control the saliva dripping down your chin anymore, mixing with their sweat. your face stayed damp, your hair stuck to your forehead, and your eyes rolled back.
higuruma leaned forward and crashed his mouth against yours, swallowing your moan with his lips. his tongue moved just as aggressively as his cock while his hand kept squeezing your breast hard enough to hurt. when he finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva stretched between you before breaking against your neck.
hiromi tightened his grip on your thighs even more, lifting your hips so you stayed completely open for both of them. the elevator smelled heavy with sweat, bodies, and slick, and the only thing breaking the silence were the filthy sounds of their bodies slamming against your ass.
nanami slowly moved his hand down the front of your body. his fingers, soaked with your slick, found your clit. “look at this little thing,” he rasped, his voice vibrating through your spine. “look how swollen it is. you’re pulsing so much, sweetheart.”
he started playing with you, and the elevator filled with another wet, messy sound from his fingers moving against you. every touch sent a shock through your body.
“mmmngh! kento… ah!” you sobbed shakily as your thighs started trembling uncontrollably. “please… i wanna come… i’m gonna… mmhnm!!" “no,” he cut you off. he gave one deep, crushing thrust. “don’t even think about coming without permission.”
their pace grew even faster, turning into something raw and primal. nanami’s heavy thrusts from behind crashed against hiromi’s from the front. the mirror in the elevator completely fogged over now, thick drops of condensation sliding down it just like the sweat running along your back. you could barely breathe anymore, your moans dissolving into broken little whimpers.
“tell me,” nanami suddenly pinched your clit hard between his fingers, making your back arch violently as you screamed. “who does this sweet, greedy pussy belong to?”
“a-ahh! yours! only yours! always only yours!” you practically sobbed the words out, losing the last of your sanity from the overwhelming pleasure. “good girl,” hiromi whispered smoothly against your damp shoulder before kissing it. “such a good girl. keep taking us, baby.”
your pussy pulsed violently, burning from the friction and impossible fullness. every thrust from nanami and hiromi forced more slick out of you, thick drops falling onto the floor and adding to the puddle already spreading beneath your feet. you felt completely used, ruined, and unbelievably happy in exactly that role.
the tension inside you coiled into a tight, unbearable knot that was about to snap. from behind, nanami made one last, crushing thrust, driving into you to the very hilt with a loud, wet sound, while hiromi made a powerful lunge forward at the same time, pinning your uterus in a vise between the two of them.
at that moment, nanami pressed hard against your pulsing clit, and that was the final straw. you literally buckled in their arms. the elevator walls started to swim before your eyes, and a series of choking, ragged sobs ripped from your throat.
"mmmngh-a-a-a! god! god! i— aah!" you gasped, feeling the first wave of orgasm paralyze your legs. your pussy started to contract convulsively and rhythmically around them, trying to squeeze every last drop out. you felt every vein on their members, every movement that now felt a hundred times sharper. a frantic, wet squelching filled the tight cabin — it was your juices, forced out by their pressure, literally splashing onto the floor and mixing with sweat.
you felt everything inside flip. your stomach muscles cramped, you threw your head back aggressively, pressing the back of your skull into nanami’s shoulder, and you just stopped breathing for several long seconds. you were shaking so hard that hiromi had to grip your thighs in a death lock to keep you from sliding to the floor.
"yes, just like that," nanami growled, feeling your pussy literally suck him in. "cum on our cocks, our pretty girl." you could not answer. you only whimpered and shuddered in a long, agonizingly beautiful ecstasy. tears of happiness and shock rolled down your wet cheeks.
you were still shaking from the lingering waves when you felt the blonde’s breath grow heavy, turning into a muffled growl. "fuck, you are so tight...so perfect baby..." he rasped, driving into you one last time with such force that you felt his pulse at your very center.
hiromi, feeling your tremors and kento’s frantic rhythm, also stopped holding back. his movements became sharp, almost rough; he literally slammed you into nanami, wringing the last moans out of you.
for a moment, everything froze. you felt nanami shudder through his whole body, his fingers digging into your thighs until it hurt, and he poured into you in a hot, pulsing stream. almost at the same time, hiromi let out a low, guttural sound and also went still, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, giving all his tension to you.
"so good mmm..." you went totally limp in their arms, feeling the scalding heat of their seed spread inside you. a sharp, mechanical sound and a sudden jolt of the elevator under your feet made you all freeze.
"hello, elevator number four? we have recorded a stop; we are restarting the system now. is everything alright with you?"
summary: in your younger years, you were soldier boy's biggest fan. now, your life is dedicated to stopping supes. somehow that's brought your paths to cross. people always say don't meet your heroes, but in your case, maybe that's not so bad...
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dry humping, a single use of daddy, age gap (reader in early to mid 20s), power imbalance (reader was a fan of soldier boy and had a hugeeee crush on him in the past)
wc: 6.9k
a/n: based on a request i will post in a second. i hope you guys like this one, i've been working on it for an embarrassing amount of time lol. so sorry to the original anon if you see this bb. but yeah, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <33
'Two minutes away. Butcher says have the door unlocked.'
Your phone buzzes with that message from Hughie. Without second guessing the order, you walk across the motel room and unlock the door. You'd been charged with getting this rendezvous prepared for their arrival.
Despite your assigned task centering around getting this place, you don't really know what it's for. Neither Butcher nor Hughie felt it important enough to clue you in as to why you were meeting in a secluded motel rather than one of the usual spots. You assumed it had something to do with their trip to Russia. Maybe they'd found the super weapon they'd been searching for.
You head back to what you were doing before Hughie’s interruption, unloading the takeout you'd brought onto the table. In the midst of placing the burgers and fries and various condiments in the center, you hear the muffled sound of an engine pull up outside and then fizzle off. Car doors slamming follow accompanied by some voices. If you'd been paying attention, you might have realized an additional person chatted along with your expected two.
But you don't catch that until the door swings open. Before you can look, the deep baritone slices across the space right into your ears.
"So, is she part of your team too?" the man asks.
You freeze. Your heart drops into your stomach. It's almost as if your body has a biological reaction to that low, rumbly way of speaking. You recognize it anywhere. It played over speakers and filled your bedroom most nights of the week when you were younger. The face it belonged to had been plastered across every surface that could hold a poster.
But it can't be his. He's been dead since before you were born. For some odd reason, your mind must have decided today would be a fun day to play tricks on you. To make you think the man of your teenage dreams had been resurrected and brought to you through some sort of star-crossed luck.
You shake your head and swallow down the ridiculous idea before turning to face them. But when you do, he is right there.
Soldier Boy stands between your teammates in all his glory, his brows raised as he assesses you. He sports modern civilian clothes rather than his uniform. It's kind of off-putting to see him in something so current, but the discrepancy doesn't keep your heart from racing. Every other part of him looks just like he used to on your tv screen. His features are still perfectly sculpted. His hair sits on his head soft as ever.
You honestly think you might faint. Your knuckles grip the back of a chair to the point of cramping as you stare at him like he'd risen from the grave right before your very eyes.
"Is she mute or something?" he asks next, still looking unimpressed with you.
Hughie glances between you and him in confusion, not understanding what's stolen your words away. But on the opposite side of Soldier Boy, Butcher eyes you with a small smirk on his face. He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the wall before walking over to you and patting your shoulder.
"She talks. Must be feeling a bit shy 'round a stranger," he says.
The physical contact seems to snap you out of your little starstruck daze. You straighten up and shrug his hand off.
"I- I'm not shy," you stutter and smooth your clothes out. "I just um... I think I recognize you from like some old movies my mom used to like. Caught me off guard. Sorry."
A shaky breath expels from your lungs, and you hope the cover-up is enough to stave off any further questions. Luckily, that seems to be true as a grin spreads across his face.
"Your mom, huh? She still around by chance?"
You bristle at the sleazy way he asks the question. It's ridiculous to feel jealous over his interest in a lie you made up, but you still feel it prickling at you.
"No," you answer before turning back to the table to empty the rest of the fast food bag.
You shoot a glare at Butcher who's still grinning at you. Of course. This was why he hadn't told you. It wasn't part of his normal failure to consider anyone else's feelings or his typical manipulative ways. He did this to fuck with you.
He was the only one who knew about your soft spot for Soldier Boy. Though, soft spot was an understatement. Attachment might have been more appropriate. Undying love and devotion also good possibilities.
You adored the guy. Part of your lie had been true, you'd gotten it from your mother. She introduced you to his movies and showed you all the tv appearances she'd taped. You inherited her small collection of posters and t-shirts, and styled your room to reflect your Soldier Boy centered world. Eventually, your obsession superseded the one she experienced in her younger years. That was probably because her love for Soldier Boy fizzled out not too long later when she met your father. Yours stayed strong as you kept to yourself and focused on getting through school.
You'd confessed all of this to your team leader one night after too many drinks. Years had passed between now and the height of your obsession, so your drunken-self figured it was fine. The information came out hiccuped amongst a flood of giggling. You had found it so funny, that you had been so hot for a supe when now, your entire life revolved around taking them down.
Honestly you thought, or at least hoped, that Butcher hadn't cared enough to remember it. But clearly you were wrong.
The four of you sit down to eat the food you bought. You're across from Hughie while Butcher takes the seat opposite Soldier Boy. He obviously finds it amusing to dangle the other man in front of you, taunting you with what he knows you want but will never admit to.
You try your hardest not to stare, but it's a challenge. You're not eating much. Your appetite pretty much vanished with the shock of his arrival. Instead you rest your cheek on the heel of your palm, attempting to keep your eyes on the table and not his face.
The whole thing is just too weird. It's like you've been transported to the fantasy world you used to imagine to fall asleep. In there, Soldier Boy, or Ben as you called him in your dreams, went everywhere with you. He took you to the mall, accompanied you to the family gathering you didn't wanna go to, sat beside you on the bench at the park while you listened to music alone. Imaginary Ben stroked your hair when you failed a test, told you he loved you when you cried, and rubbed your stomach when you had cramps.
He was always there for you in those years, filling the void everyone else's lack of attention left.
That was until he started to fade away. He popped up less and less as you adapted to life and found other people to fill your time. And then one day he just wasn't there anymore. You strolled through the mall with your friends. You went to see your family without anyone on your arm. You sat on the bench alone.
You outgrew the posters and the t-shirts. It all went into a storage bin tucked away in your closet. He went with it. Not thrown away, but no longer a part of your days. Looking back, it feels like you had two different lives — the one when you loved Soldier boy and the other where you remembered him.
But he's actually here now, sitting a foot away from you. Only everyone else can see this version of him, and he writes his own dialogue. Somehow you're just supposed to pretend like it's normal for you.
The guys chatter amongst themselves, but you barely hear it. You consider asking Butcher if you can leave. You'd do damn near anything else to get out of this situation. Your younger self would probably slap you across the face, absolutely maim you for fumbling your chance with him, but you just can't take it. It's like he's radiating humiliation and shame that projects only onto you.
Before you can speak up though, Butcher and Hughie rise from the table. You look up at them, desperation glimmering over your irises.
"Sorry, love. You're on soldier-sittin' duty for the next few hours," Butcher tells you as he goes to grab his coat.
"It's just until we get back," Hughie adds, sensing your discomfort with the situation.
Pouting and rising from your chair, you follow after them. You ignore Hughie and stare right at Butcher putting on his trench coat. "Can I come with you instead? Please?" you ask.
"Why? Thought you would be excited to get some one-on-one time with your-" he starts but you cut him off.
"It's too weird," you whisper. "Plus, he’s not gonna listen to me anyways. Can I please come with you?"
"'Fraid not," he tuts. "This one's for me and Hughie. You'll be fine for a couple hours."
"Butcher," you say, on the verge of begging.
But he holds no sympathy for you. Hughie gives you a kinder look. "Just put on the tv. He seemed pretty interested in filling in his gaps about the world on the drive here."
You weakly nod, watching them gather their remaining things before departing. Their absence leaves you and him alone in the room. It's quiet except for the crinkling of his wrapper and the thundering beat of your heart.
Turning back towards him, you force yourself to return to the room and clean up the other trash Butcher and Hughie had left behind. You gather the greasy papers while trying to keep your hands steady. They're shaking pretty bad, but moving them disguises it. At least you hope so. You don't want him seeing how nervous you are. It's stupid and pointless, but a small piece of you still wants to look cool and collected in front of him.
When you finish, you head over to the small couch that sits against the wall. You can feel his eyes on you. One thing you realize now that your juvenile fantasies failed to account for was that you really had no clue what to talk about with him. What was there to say to someone born nearly a hundred years ago? What could you bring up when he'd missed the last forty years of life? You decide to fill the silence with what Hughie had suggested.
"Do you wanna watch tv?" you ask.
"Not really, but what else is there to do in this shit hole," he says and shrugs.
You nod, reaching for the remote and flicking the screen to life. The first station is on a commercial break. You switch it to the next which is playing a basketball game. Finally, you get to the numbers playing movies and scroll through to find a good one.
While you occupy yourself with the television, he stands from his chair and heads in your direction. He plops down on the couch next to you, spreading his thighs and draping his arm across the back of the sofa. You keep your eyes locked on the screen ahead. There’s no way you’re gonna look over at his open lap. If you do that, you won’t be able to fight off the heat that keeps trying to rise into your cheeks.
You can still feel him looking at you though. The constant weight of his curiosity makes it hard not to shift around in your seat. Your thumb keeps tapping through the channels until you come across one showing something you recognize. It takes you a few seconds to place it, but as soon as you do, you go to skip it.
Before you can, he straightens up. "Wait- what's this? This looks familiar," he says, eyes narrowing.
You glance over at him, blinking a few times before giving an answer. "Um yeah... it's the remake of Red Thunder that came out a few years ago," you explain. You work hard to keep your voice even.
He looks over at you, astounded. "Remake? What do you mean remake? They just did it over again?"
You nod. "Yeah, y'know. Like how Scarface is a remake of the old one from the thirties... Like that."
He scoffs. "They tried to remake my movie?" he asks, still in disbelief. He examines the tv again. "Which one's supposed to be me?"
You wait a few seconds, looking for the updated version of him. "Um... that one," you say and point to the younger actor dressed in Soldier Boy gear.
He laughs, the sound booming across the room. "That guy? That's who they chose to play me?" he mocks. "Jesus, if that's the type of man you kids think a hero is no wonder the world is in the state it's in."
"Yeah..." you say, a little smile rising to your lips. Your nerves begin to settle. This isn't so bad when you keep your mind off your feelings… even if he does talk a little bit like your grandfather. "I like the original way better," you continue.
"Oh do you now?” he asks. That start of a smirk on his face is nearly audible.
"Mhm. This one is just kind of boring," you answer, eyes flitting between him and the screen. "They took all the romance stuff out, and we're not in the cold war anymore so the bad guys are just some vague, random evil army. Plus, I don't understand why they didn't just use one of Vought's new supes instead of imitating you."
The words flow easily, just as they did to all your friends when the movie had first come out. You don't have as much trouble expressing yourself when the topic of discussion is one of your favorite subjects.
He nods as if he's genuinely interested in your points before commenting. "I thought your mother was the fan?"
You bite the inside of your cheek, your heart rate picking up again under the spotlight of his attention. It wasn't too big of a slip up. You can play it off like you had with your initial anxiety. Though you can't focus enough to answer while gazing into his cocky eyes, so you look down at your lap.
"She was. But I saw some of your movies too. Doesn't take a genius to know they were better than this stuff," you shrug.
There's a little pause. Your heart beats impossibly faster. But he just chuckles and turns back to the tv. "You sure you've only seen some of my movies? Sounds like you know more than a casual fan," he goads.
Hesitation creeps up on you. Maybe this is your opportunity to tell the truth. You can just confess your thing for him like it's an embarrassing story. Maybe then it won't hold so much power over you and this will be a whole lot easier. Your palms flex against your thighs as you steel yourself.
"Well... more than some. I've seen a lot. I just didn't wanna weird you out or anything," you admit, doing your absolute best to seem casual. Maybe they should give you the Oscar they never offered your beloved.
"There you go. Be honest," he praises, and you think you feel something throb between your legs. You glance up at him for a second before your eyes drop back down. He shakes his head. "It doesn't ‘weird me out.’ I'm used to the attention y'know. I lived with it longer than you've been alive."
"Yeah, but I didn't want things to be uncomfortable. Make you think I was like obsessed or something."
"Well are you like obsessed or something?’ he teases. Something in his tone tells you he already knows the answer.
"No," you deny immediately.
"It would make sense if you were. It'd explain why you're so nervous," he says, his voice smooth as polished marble.
"I'm not nervous," you defend.
"C'mon, sweetheart. You can't look at me for more than a second, and I can hear your heart beating faster than a baby bunny runnin' from a wolf."
You practically swoon when he calls you sweetheart, but you force your eyes up and onto his. No matter how many butterflies erupt in your stomach, you're intent on being professional. That little childish crush is a thing of the past, you're sure of it. You're an adult now with a real passion for your job.
"It's just that you're kind of intimidating," you reason. "It's weird seeing a movie star in person."
"A movie star? You flatter me."
Rolling your eyes, an involuntary huff slips from your lips. "You know what I mean. It's just different talking to you like in real life and not just seeing you on a screen. That's it."
"Is that all? I don't know if I believe you, honey. I recognize that look on your face," he says.
"What look? I don't have a look," you say.
"No, you do. You have that look I used to get from the girls hanging around outside set. They'd stand there with their little autograph books, waiting to get a glimpse of Soldier Boy," he says, eyes almost twinkling as he reminisces. "Only every time I'd go over to sign something for 'em, they could never get their eyes off their shoes. Always looking down, stumbling over their words. I don't typically go for you younger girls, but it was pretty cute."
You feel your cheeks heating up along with a small smile forming on your lips. Just like that, your commitment to professionalism has started to wane. It's dumb, but you can't help yourself. He basically called you cute. You just count yourself lucky you haven’t started giggling.
"Yep they used to do that too. That little smile," he continues.
He's making you malfunction with only a handful of words. Your head spins, but you're powerless to stop it. You can't help reacting like one of those girls because, inside, part of you is still one of them.
"C'mere, sweetheart," he says next before patting his lap.
You know you shouldn't. If Butcher and Hughie came back and saw you like this, it would be the humiliation of a lifetime. But you can't resist him. It's easy to declare your commitment to acting professional when the situation is only a hypothetical. When it becomes real, presented right before your eyes, it's a different story entirely.
Tentatively, you scoot towards him, eyeing his thighs. His hand comes to your back between your shoulders to urge you along.
"I'm not gonna bite you, bunny," he says with that action-hero smile.
More timidity pumps through you at the repetition of that term. You find the courage to close the rest of the gap and crawl into his lap. His arms welcome you, shifting you around on his thighs into a comfortable position.
"Perfect. Feels better like this, doesn't it?" he says.
That palm on your back strokes up and down. He runs it along the length of your spine, bringing a chill over every area it touches. You keep your gaze on your hands in your lap until his fingers tap beneath your chin and redirect your vision onto him.
"Don't hide those pretty eyes from me. That's how I know what you're feelin’. They give so much away.”
You honestly believe you're seconds away from melting into a puddle, from slumping over against his chest and becoming some boneless rag doll for him to play with. You can only imagine how stupid you look if even half of the lovesickness you feel reflects on your face.
"Tell me — have you ever thought about this before? I bet you have," he murmurs.
Of course he's right. You'd envisioned yourself on this very lap countless times when you were younger. But a part of you still clings to the idea that you should hide how absolutely pathetic you are for him. You shrug.
"I guess..." you answer. The words come out airy, almost as if your voice is getting away from you.
He simply smirks at the reply while rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth over your chin. "Yeah? You imagined sitting my lap, hm? Dreamed of me holding you close?"
"Something like that," you reply, feeling as though your throat was constricting.
He chuckles at your squeak of a reply. "Well, how do I match up to your dreams? Am I everything you hoped I would be?" he asks. His voice drops, and there's no question about what he wants from you now. Something you would give without hesitation.
"You're doing a pretty good job," you say. You try to adjust yourself to face more towards the tv, but he keeps you pinned in place.
"I haven't really done anything yet," he says.
A little bout of silence rises between you two. Neither of you say anything. The only sound is the hushed chatter of the tv in the background. Despite the lack of conversation, his eyes stay on your face. His fingers caress your cheek before smoothing down to your neck.
"How'd a pretty girl like you get involved with those two jackasses who brought me here anyways?" he asks.
"It's a long story..." you say. Your skin is on fire everywhere his fingers trace. They're working over your throat down onto your collarbone and shoulders.
"Too long for you to care about right now, yeah?" he asks, completely smug.
You nod though because smug or not, he's correct about that. Recounting how you got involved with Butcher ordinarily wasn't too hard. But in this moment, on his lap, it seems like the effort of a lifetime for your foggy brain.
"You're too soft and sweet for hunting supes," he says. Despite poking fun at you, he remains gentle and soft, careful not to really upset you and break you out of this docile little haze he's got you in.
"It's not so bad,” you say.
"Sure, sure. You're strong and independent, can do anything a man can and all that. I'm just saying-"
Talk talk talk. So much talking, and you can barely focus on a word he's saying. Your eyes are lingering on his lips. They look so soft and smooth. Nothing’s touched them in forty years. He’s definitely noticed your stare. And you know that means you should stop. You can’t though. You want it, and he’s practically offering it up to you.
He continues speaking, however. “- I can think of a few things you’d be much better at. Things that don’t involve your little hands getting bloody.”
“Like what?” you start to ask.
“Maybe something like this.”
That hand on your chin tugs you closer. Before you register what’s happening, his mouth is on yours. Electricity zaps all through your body like a live wire. You lean into it without thinking, pressing closer and molding your lips to his.
He chuckles as your arms slide up to loop around his neck. You swallow up the low, rough sound, not disconnecting from him for a moment. His hand flattens out along your jawline. It allows him to hold you right where he wants you for a series of more kisses, all of which you reciprocate.
“Atta girl,” he mumbles in the brief interval where you’re forced to drawback for breath. “Not so shy now, are ya?”
You shake your head before diving in for more. He receives you by opening his mouth. His tongue gently flicks over your lip. He slides it against your own as things become deeper. The heat inside you no longer holds the sting of shame or embarrassment. It aches now. It burns with pure want, clustering in the pit of your stomach rather than in your face.
He leans back into the sagging couch. His hands ensure you move along with him. With a firm grip on your waist, he boosts you closer and shifts you around so your thighs are parted across his own.
A small whimper leaves you. You can’t help it. Your bodies are even closer now. Your center is pressed right against his lap, right where his cock is. You can’t feel it yet, but the idea is enough to send phantom sensations rippling through you.
You feel his lips curling into a smirk against yours. Those hands leave your waist. They dip lower, sliding across your curves to grip onto the plush flesh of your ass. That gets a real moan out of you. Your head falls back, away from his mouth. He doesn’t let you go too far though. A second later, his affections move to your neck. His kisses are hot and wet, tongue laving over your pulse point and teeth nipping sensitive skin.
Just a few simple touches, and his strength shines through each one. The firmness with which his fingers knead your ass is unlike anyone else you’ve ever felt. You’ve been with muscular guys before, but nothing like this. Strong is too weak a word to describe the undercurrent flowing through his grasp.
You roll your hips down in an exploratory swivel, something faint to see if you could find some friction. He aides you. His fingers tighten around your ass, pushing you down harder and then dragging your core back over his lap.
You suck in a little gasp.
“That feel good, huh? Your pretty pussy’s getting wet for me, isn’t she?” he asks with another rotation of your hips.
“Y-yeah,” you stutter. You push your upper-half closer to him so that your chest squishes against his own.
To your dismay, he stops you from fully holding on. He nudges you backwards and boosts you off his lap entirely so that you’re standing on your feet. A whine builds at the front of your mouth, but before you can protest, his fingers come to the button on your jeans.
He flicks it open, looking up at you as he yanks your pants down. “Been forty years since I got some tail. Let’s not waste any more time,” he says in explanation.
You nod along and step out of each of your pant legs, kicking the garment aside. You also take your t-shirt off. The fabric lands on top of your discarded jeans. Once you’re left in just your bra and panties, he tugs you back down.
Your bodies come together with a thud. The material of his sweats grazes your tingly inner-thighs. Before you can get back into rutting yourself on him, he runs his palms over your legs. They’re pretty smooth for someone of his age and experience. You always imagined something a little rougher, something that would contrast against the smooth nature of your own flesh. But forty years in a cryo-tank hadn’t given his skin much opportunity to become weathered.
His hands find your ass again, one coming down to give it a quick smack. Your hips jolt in surprise at the sudden sting. He soothes it away by rubbing over the heated area. His fingers dig into your malleable skin harder now that it’s bare to him.
“Skin’s baby-soft,” he murmurs mid-grope. “Been wanting someone rougher to come and mark it up?”
Your eyes flicker over his mocking smirk, heat filling your face. You grind yourself on him again with a whine. It feels so much better with your clothing out of the way. Even though the thin cotton barrier of your panties keeps you from rubbing down on him raw, the material is skimpy enough that it doesn’t impede. Instead it adds a little extra spark to the building pressure between your legs. Your eyes roll towards the back of your head, fluttering as you rock yourself forward and back.
He helps out just like before. His hands rein your movements into a steady rhythm. In between your bodies, his bulge starts to form. With each swipe of your covered cunt across his lap, you feel it becoming more and more prominent; hard and solid right up against your soaked folds.
“Just like that, get yourself ready for me,” he praises with another slap to your backside. “I’ll teach you how to really ride.”
You moan while biting your lip. Your hips work faster on him. Being so close, so lost in his feel and scent, has freed you of your previous trepidation. You’ve lost the ability to be stuck in your head with him like this.
He shifts you over slightly so that you’re lined up with the flat top of his thigh. It makes no difference to you. You keep your hips moving like nothing’s changed, grinding your throbbing clit down onto the firm muscles in his leg.
“Fuck,” you whimper. Your arms wrap over his shoulders once more. You squish your face into the crux of your elbow.
This time he lets you stay. He wraps an arm around you and lazily pats your back. “Good girl. Keep going. I gotcha.” His voice rumbles beside your ear. “Better than any dream, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you whimper. “Fuck- so much better. You- you’re perfect.”
While you continue to pleasure yourself on his leg, he lifts his hips off the couch just enough to push his sweats down towards his knees. He takes his cock out. It’s fully hard now, stiff in his hand as he gives it a few strokes.
You don’t notice at first, so wrapped up in your own bliss. But when he starts pulling you center again, you lift your head and glance down through heavy-lids.
You’d imagined him big, but seeing his cock for real makes you feel like you didn’t imagine big enough. His length is long and moderately thick. It’s flushed for you, the tip shimmery with the slightest bit of pre oozing out.
Your mouth waters. You want to taste him. You want to show him how badly you want it. You want to drop to your knees and think about nothing but how good he fits in your mouth.
But you know you have limited time. Butcher said you had a couple hours, but he’s also unreliable and a liar and purposefully fucking with you today so… you don’t want to take any chances.
He doesn’t seem too eager to have you like that anyways. He gives you a slight boost and pulls the soaked material of your panties to the side. The silky skin of his tip replaces the feeling. He drags himself across your entrance once, twice, and then nudges inside.
Your teeth sink into your lip as your head falls back slightly. You still can’t understand how this is real, but it undeniably is. The feeling of him working himself in, inch by inch, is not a figment of your imagination. That sweet stretch is absolutely real, and it consumes you more with every passing second until your ass is flush against his thighs once more.
He groans. “Shit, that’s good.” The muscles in his jaw flex. “Haven’t felt anything this nice in a longgg fucking time.”
Your walls flutter around him, eliciting another hiss from between his gritted teeth. Every noise he makes feels as good as a physical touch. You can’t get enough of hearing his voice strained with pleasure — pleasure you’re giving him.
You rise on his lap before sinking down. The rhythm is slow to start, a way for both of you to get used to the feeling. His hands squeeze your hips hard enough to bring a little burst of pain. You like it though. You want more of it.
He smacks your ass again. “C’mon, bunny. I know you can do better than that.”
Your hands plant themselves firmly on his shoulders, giving you the leverage needed to go a little faster. You bring yourself up and then down in quicker succession.
“That’s it. Such a good girl. Show daddy what you’ve been dreamin’ about.”
A shudder tears through you. Your muscles feel weak, like the simple string of praise had loosened them up completely. It doesn’t matter though. You start to bounce faster. Your body works with a mind of its own. It doesn’t let you slow down.
He slides in and out easily with how wet you are. Every drag of his cock on your insides is a straight shot of bliss. You feel even better when he grips your jaw and pulls you in for another few kisses. His mouth moves against your own before moving along your jawline to the space below your ear and then onto your neck and collarbone.
“Every inch of you tastes so fucking good. Like cherry pie,” he mumbles. “I’ll have to try out that pussy of yours next.”
“Mhm, fuck,” you whimper.
You keep riding as his teeth nip at one of your bra straps. The noises of your skin on his fill the small motel room. His tight grip on your waist helps you maintain the rhythm, pulling you down hard and boosting you up quick
The tip of his cock bumps up against your g-spot and gets a squeal out of you. Your nails dig into his shoulders as a way of bracing yourself. Neither of you slow down. You stutter slightly, but his hips lift to meet your movements. His fast thrusts strike at that angle over and over until your legs are quivering to the point that it truly feels like they might give out.
Luckily for you, he makes sure you don’t go toppling to the floor. The firm weight of his hands guide you closer to his body. Your weight shifting gives him the leverage to take over pumping in and out of you.
Your cheek hits his shoulder as your head fills with a warm, thick fog. He pounds into that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You can hear him grunting beside your ear, low and strained sounds that have your stomach full of butterflies.
“Pretty, pretty girl. You were worth the wait,” he mumbles alongside another deep thrust.
You whimper, lazily nodding your head against him. “You- mm- you were too.”
Sweet, tight heat coils in your belly. You know release is creeping up on you. Your eyes flutter shut, waiting for it to take over. You don’t notice his hand sliding between your bodies until you feel the pads of his fingertips rubbing at your sensitive clit. Your hips buck into the pleasure, and your walls clamp around him hard.
He lets out a deep laugh that only makes you tighten up more.
“Yeah, that’s a good girl. I know what you need, babydoll. Let go for me. Let me see how good you look when you cum,” he says.
His fingers keep swiping at the little bud between your legs. Syrupy shots of bliss shoot through you, pushing you along, taking you to the edge. It’s no time at all before a round of shudders rack through you. Your arms latch around his neck while your thighs clamp on either side of his. Embarrassing strings of whines trickle into the air.
“I- I- fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so- so fucking good, god.”
The last word to leave your lips is pitchy and broken. Your release cuts it short. Moans replace any coherent praise you could have given him. You bury your face in his neck and pant against the warm skin. Vaguely, you can feel his arms tightening around you. One of his hands rests between your shoulders while the other stays at your waist. He keeps pumping up into you, fucking you through each and every wave of orgasmic euphoria.
He’s less clingy as he finishes. His hips snap up into you a few more times before he groans loud and deep. He maintains the solid grip he has on you, hands still clamped around your waist as he spills inside. His chest rises and falls under your own, puffing quick with the exertion of finishing.
Your eyes stay closed for another several seconds as the room goes quiet and your nerves stop buzzing. His thumb lazily drags back and forth in tiny lines along the base of your spine. That almost makes you shiver more than anything you did on top of him.
With the fog of lust clearing from your mind, you separate from his chest and sit up straight. He’s relaxed as can be, head tilted back against the couch, watching you with the same lazy appraisal you’re giving him. Now that your entire body isn’t thrumming with want for him, he doesn’t seem so intimidating. You know that’s not the truth, that he could still crush any of your bones with minimal effort if he so desired — but in a weird way, you just don’t feel like you’re perpetually looking up at him now. It’s not negative, but the mystique is gone. The man of your dreams doesn’t exist anymore. Soldier Boy is flesh and blood, sweaty and spent beneath you.
You roll off of him to the other side of the couch. You’re pretty sure not much time has passed, but you don’t want to risk anything. You’re gonna be well and dressed when Butcher and Hughie come back. The two of them will be none the wiser that anything out of the ordinary occurred.
He stretches for a moment before adjusting his own appearance.
“Gotta say, I’m in no rush to do whatever it is they thawed me out for now. You’re much more fun.” His voice breaks the silence.
A small smile cracks on your face. “Yeah… think I’ll be pretty distracted too.” You look over your shoulder at him.
Little comments bounce back and forth between the two of you with nothing substantial really being said. That’s ok with you. The fact that you really just fucked Soldier Boy has left your mind void of conversational skills.
After the two of you are back to looking plain as you had been before, your collective attention returns to what’s left of the Red Thunder remake still playing on the tv.
“Who’s the head honcho nowadays? Was it Homelander they said?” he asks you. “Guy must not be able to get it done if they’re remaking this old shit.”
You laugh softly and nod. “Yeah… I’m sure Butcher will tell you allll about him when they get back.”
The two of you watch the remainder of the movie, with you chattering here and there about things you don’t like or little facts you know. It’s nice in a weird way. Feels almost like something you would’ve dreamed up all those years ago.
Your little bubble of fantasy bursts when the car doors slam not too far from the motel room entrance. You sit up a little straighter, smooth out your hair a bit, trying to make sure you look totally normal before Hughie and Butcher walk in.
Soldier Boy makes no such effort. His eyes rest on the tv while his legs stay spread and his posture slightly slouched.
The door creaks open and shuts just as quick. Hughie enters first with Butcher right behind him. You keep your focus on the tv. But even though you’re not looking, you can feel Butcher’s curious stare.
“We got everything we needed, so we should be good to go for tonight,” Hughie says, not giving the two of you any real thought.
You nod and take the chance to look over at him walking towards the table all of you sat at earlier. In your sweep of the room, you catch Butcher’s gaze lingering on the two of you.
“Seems like everything went well here,” he says. You know from that lilt in his tone the words aren’t as innocent as the untrained ear would believe. You know he wants to poke and prod and expose your new dirty little secret, but you won’t let him.
You shrug. “There wasn’t a ton to do here, so yeah,” you huff like it’s obvious.
His boots squish on the cheap carpeting as he takes a few steps closer.
“So just smooth sailin’. Nothing out of the ordinary happened?”
You roll your eyes. Does he somehow know what you did? Is he sick enough to have left cameras or something?
“Yeah. Everything’s the same as you left it, boss.”
He laughs, brief and short, a prelude to his killing strike.
“’s funny cause I don’t remember your shirt bein’ on inside-out when we left.”
Your eyes zip down only to find he’s right. The seams on your shirt puff out as they do on the interior side of the fabric. Heat rushes into your face. You grab the lumpy throw pillow jammed between your hip and the couch and chuck it in his direction.
“Shut up,” you huff as you take off towards the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind you.
His laughter carries after you, and there’s a bit of Soldier Boy’s as well, lower and deeper in timbre.
“What can I say? She’s a super-fan.” His voice rumbles through the thin walls.
You want to be offended, to go back out there and tell him and Butcher off, to not put up with any of their shit. But hearing him talk about you in that sugar-coated, condescending tone of voice, openly acknowledging he’d been with you… it wouldn’t be honest.
You adored him before you learned to hate supes. Even if the fantasy is gone, deep down, you’re not sure you’ll ever fully rid yourself of that version of you who was whole-heartedly a super fan.
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ─── your first late-night session with personal trainer!sukuna turns filthy fast!
mdni | warnings: smut, fem reader, handsy trainer, public-ish sex (empty gym), praise-degradation, spanking, spitting, creampie, cum on ass, feral sukuna, shy nervous reader
The gym is hushed and dim when you push through the glass doors just before eleven, the overhead lights turned low for the late hour. You clutch your pink duffel bag against your chest, the strap digging into your shoulder as nerves twist low in your stomach. It’s your very first session with Sukuna, and the front desk girls had spent the entire signup raving about how intense he was — “the best trainer here,” they kept saying, which only made your anxiety worse.
You’d stood in front of your mirror for way too long tonight, changing outfits twice before settling on your favorite white sports bra and the matching pink leggings that hug every soft curve of your ass and thighs. You keep smoothing the fabric down with shaky hands, heart fluttering, cheeks already warm as you step deeper into the nearly empty space.
The usual daytime chaos is gone. No music, no chatter, no clanging plates. Just the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant clank of metal somewhere in the back. The silence feels heavy, almost intimate — like the entire gym has been emptied out for the two of you — and that thought sends a fresh wave of shy heat crawling up your neck.
Sukuna is already there, leaning against the free-weight racks with his arms crossed over his broad, powerful chest. His black compression shirt is stretched obscenely tight across his sculpted pecs and shoulders, the fabric clinging to every hard ridge of muscle. Gray sweatpants sit dangerously low on his hips, revealing that sharp V-line that disappears beneath the waistband and makes it impossible not to stare. His pink hair is messy, like he’d run his fingers through it after his own warm-up, and the black tattoos snaking down his arms and across his collarbones look even darker under the low lighting
When he spots you walking in, his gaze snaps to you immediately. A slow, dark smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, something hungry flickering in his eyes as he takes you in from head to toe — slow, deliberate, unashamed.
“You’re the new girl,” he drawls, voice low and rough, the sound carrying easily through the quiet gym. “Cute outfit. You look nervous as hell.”
You let out a soft, shy laugh — a breathy little sound that slips out before you can stop it. Your gaze drops to the floor for a second before you manage to look back at him. “Hi… yeah, this is my first time with a personal trainer. The girls at the desk said you’re the best, so I figured I’d give it a shot. I just want to get toned and feel stronger, but I’m kind of scared I’ll do everything wrong.”
His eyes rake over you shamelessly, no attempt to hide it. They linger on the way your white sports bra barely contains your full tits — the deep cleavage, the faint outline of your nipples pressing against the thin fabric — before dropping lower, tracing the round, plush curve of your ass hugged so tightly by those pink leggings.
“Don’t worry,” he says, the smirk deepening just a fraction, voice dropping even lower. “I’ll take good care of you. Drop the bag. Start on the rower for warm-up. I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
You nod quickly, heart hammering as you set your duffel down near the bench. The silence of the empty gym suddenly feels heavier, thicker, every small sound amplified as you climb onto the rower and try to focus.
You climb onto the rower, sitting up straight with stiff posture, hyper-aware of how exposed you feel in the quiet gym. The first few strokes are manageable, but you can feel Sukuna standing right behind the machine, his eyes locked on every movement. Your tits bounce softly with each pull, nipples tightening against the thin white fabric from the cool air and your rising nerves.
“Back straight,” he says calmly, stepping closer until he’s directly behind you. “Drive with your legs. Push that chest out more… yeah. Just like that. Good. Keep going.”
You row until your breathing grows heavier and a light sheen of sweat begins to glow on your skin. By the time you finish the set, your face is flushed and your hands are a little shaky. Sukuna nods once.
“Not bad for the first time. Pull-up bar next.”
You hop up and grip the bar, but your arms start trembling after only two shaky reps. A soft, nervous sound slips out. Sukuna moves in right behind you immediately, his large hands settling firmly on your waist, thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your leggings.
“Chest up,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear. “Don’t swing. I’ve got you.” He helps lift you through two more reps, his hard chest pressed flush to your back, his hips grinding slowly and deliberately against the full curve of your ass. You feel something thick, heavy, and warm pressing firmly between your cheeks through his sweatpants with every assisted pull. When you finally drop down, his hands slide lower, squeezing your hips possessively before he lets go.
You turn to face him, blinking with wide, uncertain eyes, your face burning. “Is… is that how you spot everyone?”
He gives a low chuckle. “Only the ones who need the extra help. Deadlifts next.”
He loads the bar and demonstrates once, smooth and powerful, his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of toned, tattooed abs. “Hips back. Ass out. Bar close to your legs.”
You set your stance and bend over, heart hammering. On the first rep his hand settles firmly on your lower back, pressing you deeper. On the second rep he steps fully behind you, his hips grinding hard against your ass. You feel it immediately — the thick, heavy length of his cock, already rock-hard and throbbing, pressed right between your soft cheeks through his sweatpants. He rolls his hips in slow, filthy circles, letting the fat head nudge and rub against you with every movement.
“Deeper,” he growls softly, voice thick. “Push back into me. Let me feel it.”
You pause mid-rep, voice small and trembling with nerves. “U-um… Are you sure this is how deadlifts are supposed to be done? It feels… really close. Is that normal for spotting?”
His hand squeezes your hip hard, holding you firmly in place as he grinds his thick cock deliberately along the cleft of your ass, slow and obscene. “Yeah. This is exactly how I spot girls who need extra help with form. You’re doing perfect. Keep pushing that ass back. Good girl.”
You bite your lip, confused and flushed, your stomach twisting with uncertainty, but you don’t want to argue or seem difficult on your very first day. “O-okay… if you say it’s the right way, I’ll keep trying. I just don’t want to mess it up…”
He keeps “spotting” you through every single rep of the deadlifts, never stepping back even an inch. His thick, heavy cock rubs slow, deliberate strokes between your cheeks with every hinge. The rigid length drags heavily along the cleft of your ass, the fat head pressing and nudging insistently right against your covered pussy from behind through the thin fabric of your pink leggings. By the time you finish the final rep, your breathing is shaky and uneven, and there’s a strange, warm, slippery ache building deep between your thighs that makes you shift your weight nervously from foot to foot. Your face feels like it’s on fire.
When you finally straighten up, he doesn’t move away. He stays pressed flush against your back, his body heat radiating through your clothes. One large hand slides down to squeeze the soft, round cheek of your ass, fingers digging in possessively.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and rough right beside your ear as he rolls his hips once more, letting you feel every thick inch of his cock rubbing slowly between your cheeks. “That’s how you know your form is getting better.”
You swallow hard, voice tiny and uncertain. “It feels… really intense. But if it’s helping, then… okay.”
Bicep curls come next, and they’re even worse.
He hands you the dumbbells, then steps right behind you, caging you in with his tall, muscular frame. As you start the movement, one hand corrects your elbow while the other grips your waist and firmly yanks your ass back against him. He begins grinding slow and dirty, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing right between your cheeks, the fat head nudging insistently against your covered pussy with every slow roll of his hips. You can feel the heavy shaft dragging along your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric, spreading your growing wetness.
“Nice and slow,” he breathes hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You’re doing well.”
Your voice comes out quiet and shaky. “Sukuna… are you sure this is normal? I can feel your cock rubbing between my legs the whole time. It’s making me all warm and wet down there…”
He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against your back as he grinds harder, letting you feel every thick inch of his cock drag slowly along your soaked pussy through the leggings. “That’s just me making sure your form stays tight, baby. Keep going.”
You bite your lip hard, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but you don’t pull away. You’re too shy to argue, too nervous to seem difficult on your first day. So you keep curling the weights with trembling arms, trying your best to focus even as the thick heat of his cock continues rubbing firmly against you with every rep.
By the end of the set, your arms are shaking badly and you’re absolutely soaked — slick has completely soaked through your panties and is now dampening the crotch of your pink leggings, though you’re still too nervous and clueless to fully understand why your body is reacting like this. The gym is completely empty now, the heavy silence broken only by your ragged little breaths and the low buzz of the overhead lights.
Sukuna takes the weights from your hands and sets them down with a soft clink. He turns you gently to face him, tilting your chin up with two fingers, his thumb brushing slowly and deliberately across your bottom lip.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dark with lust as he takes in your flushed face and trembling body. “All pink and nervous, tits heaving with every breath, that soft ass still twitching from how hard you were pushing back against my cock the whole time. You really have no idea what you’ve been doing to me tonight, do you, princess?”
You blink up at him with wide, confused eyes, voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean? I was just trying to follow the exercises properly…”
He doesn’t explain. Instead he kisses you — deep, hungry, and filthy. His tongue pushes into your mouth as one hand grips the back of your neck possessively and the other squeezes your ass hard, pulling you flush against the thick, throbbing bulge straining in his sweatpants. You let out a soft, surprised whimper into the kiss, but your body melts against his anyway, heart racing wildly in your chest.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breathing rough and heavy. “We’re not done yet. Come here.”
He wraps his fingers around your wrist and leads you over to the inclined leg press machine in the corner. Without a word he sits down, spreads his legs wide, and pulls you onto his lap so your back is pressed to his chest. His strong hands immediately slide under your thighs, spreading them apart and draping them over his own so you’re completely open on top of him.
“Time for some real leg work,” he says, voice thick and low. “But we’re doing it my way tonight.”
You squirm nervously on his lap, feeling the massive, rock-hard length of his cock pressing hot and heavy right against your soaked pussy through the thin layers of fabric. “I don’t think this is how leg press is supposed to work. It feels really strange sitting on your lap like this…”
He chuckles darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest against your back. One hand yanks your leggings and panties down just enough to bare your dripping cunt while the other frees his thick, veiny cock from his sweatpants. The fat, leaking head slides teasingly up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough with hunger. “This is exactly how I train girls who spend the whole session rubbing their ass on me without realizing what they’re doing.”
Before you can ask another question, he grips your hips and slowly pulls you down. The blunt head of his cock stretches your tight entrance open, inch by thick, throbbing inch, until you’re fully seated on his lap with his entire cock buried deep inside your clenching pussy.
“Fuuuck… such a tight, sloppy, greedy little cunt,” he groans, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Look at you — first session and you’re already stuffed full of my cock.”
He starts moving, guiding your hips up and down in slow, deep strokes that make the leg press platform creak loudly beneath you. Every time he pulls you down, his thick cock punches deep into your pussy, stretching you wide open around his girth. The wet, obscene squelch of your soaked folds taking him echoes through the empty gym, your juices coating every inch of his shaft and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
Your tits bounce heavily with each stroke, the white sports bra barely containing them as they jiggle and slap together, nipples stiff and rubbing against the thin fabric. One hand slides around to rub firm, messy circles on your swollen clit while the other squeezes one of your bouncing tits, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers until it’s aching and sensitive.
You moan brokenly, head falling back against his shoulder, voice shaky and confused even as pleasure floods your body. “Sukuna… are you sure this is part of the workout? It feels so full and deep… I didn’t know it was supposed to feel like this.”
He chuckles darkly and thrusts up harder, bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing. The sharp slap of your ass against his thighs fills the gym as he fucks you with long, powerful strokes, the machine groaning in rhythm with every brutal plunge. Your tits bounce even more wildly now, heavy and unrestrained, nipples hard and sensitive as they jiggle with every forceful thrust.
“This is exactly how I train girls like you,” he growls against your ear, teeth grazing your neck. “You’ve been dripping wet for my cock since the first deadlift and you still thought I was just fixing your form. Take it. Ride my cock like the clueless little thing you are.”
He picks up the pace, fucking into you with deep, relentless strokes, the fat head of his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside you over and over. His fingers never stop working your clit, rubbing fast and filthy, while his other hand gropes and squeezes your tits, twisting your nipples until you’re whimpering.
“Look at this sloppy pussy creaming all over me,” he rasps, voice rough with lust. “First day and you’re already getting fucked stupid on the equipment, soaking my cock like you can’t get enough. You gonna come for me, princess? Gonna make a mess all over my dick while you’re supposed to be working out?”
You nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure spilling down your flushed cheeks, manicured nails digging into his thighs. “Y-yes— it feels too good… I didn’t know— oh god, I think I’m gonna—”
The orgasm hits you hard. Your pussy clenches violently around his thick cock, gushing slick as you cry out his name, legs shaking uncontrollably in his lap. Your tits bounce wildly with every spasm, nipples stiff and sensitive as waves of pleasure rip through you.
Sukuna groans deep and feral, but he doesn’t cum. He keeps you impaled on his cock, grinding slowly through your orgasm, letting your walls flutter and milk him while he holds back. When your trembling finally starts to ease, he lifts you off his lap with ease, his thick cock slipping out of your dripping pussy with a wet sound. Strings of your slick stretch between you before breaking.
Sukuna doesn’t give you time to recover. The second your orgasm starts to fade, he grips your hips tightly and lifts you off his cock with ease, his thick length sliding out of your dripping pussy with a wet, obscene sound. Strings of your slick stretch between you before snapping.
Before you can even catch your breath or ask what he’s doing, he stands up, pulling you with him only to suddenly shove you down onto the gym mat. You let out a startled gasp as your back hits the cool floor, the impact surprising you. He’s on you instantly, straddling your chest, his heavy cock still rock-hard and glistening with your juices hovering above your face.
“Open your mouth,” he growls, gripping your jaw firmly with one large hand and tilting your face up.
You obey without thinking, lips parting shyly. Sukuna leans down and spits directly into your open mouth — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing on your tongue. “Swallow it.”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you do, the taste of him making your head spin and your pussy clench around nothing.
He flips you over roughly, manhandling you onto your stomach. One strong hand presses between your shoulder blades, shoving your face down hard against the mat while the other yanks your hips up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your back arches deeply, cheek pressed into the cool floor, completely exposed.
He smacks your ass hard — the sharp crack echoing through the empty gym as your soft flesh jiggles. Another hard slap, then another, and another. Each one lands heavier than the last, turning your skin a bright, stinging pink. Your ass ripples under his palm with every brutal smack, the sound mixing with your soft, surprised whimpers.
“Fuck, this ass looks even better when it’s red,” he mutters, smacking you again, harder this time, watching the soft flesh bounce and quiver under his palm. “All marked up for me.”
He spreads your cheeks wide with both hands, thumbs digging roughly into the reddened, stinging skin as he fully exposes your dripping pussy. Leaning over you, he spits directly onto your swollen folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your cunt and slowly dripping down toward your entrance. He smears it over your pussy with the fat head of his cock, coating himself thoroughly.
His still-hard, throbbing length — now slick with your juices and his spit — lines up with your greedy hole. Without warning, he slams back inside in one brutal, punishing thrust, burying every thick inch to the hilt in a single motion.
A broken moan is forced out of you as he bottoms out, the fat head of his cock kissing your cervix. He fucks you like that — face down, ass up — pounding into you with deep, merciless strokes. His hips slap loudly and wetly against your reddened ass with every thrust, the sound echoing through the empty gym. Your soft, marked cheeks ripple and jiggle from the force of his pounding, the skin still stinging hot from his earlier smacks.
His hand stays firm between your shoulder blades, shoving your face harder into the mat, keeping your cheek pressed against the cool floor while he rails you from behind. Every brutal thrust pushes your tits against the mat, your nipples dragging roughly over the surface as your body rocks forward. Your pussy squelches obscenely around his cock, creamy slick leaking out around his shaft and dripping down your thighs with every savage plunge.
“Fuck… listen to that sloppy cunt,” he growls, voice rough and filthy. “Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it.”
He keeps pounding you relentlessly, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. The angle lets him hit that perfect spot inside you over and over, making your legs tremble and your moans come out muffled against the mat.
After several long, punishing minutes of being used like that, he suddenly pulls out with a wet pop, your pussy clenching around nothing, gaping and dripping. He strokes his thick, veiny cock furiously right above your ass, groaning low and deep as the first thick ropes of cum erupt from the tip.
Hot, heavy spurts of cum splatter across your reddened ass cheeks and lower back in messy streaks. He keeps pumping his fist, milking every last drop, painting your flushed skin with long, sticky ropes until your ass is glazed and glistening with his load. Some of it drips down the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, mixing with your own slick.
He gives your cum-covered ass one final hard smack, watching the way his load shifts and spreads over your skin, thick white streaks slowly sliding down the curve of your ass and between your cheeks.
For a moment the gym is completely silent except for both of you catching your breath. Sukuna stays crouched behind you, one hand resting possessively on your lower back as he admires the mess he’s made of you.
Then he stands, pulling his sweatpants back up with a lazy tug. He looks down at you — face still pressed to the mat, ass up, covered in his cum — and lets out a low, satisfied breath.
“Next session,” he says, voice rough and quiet, “same time, yeah?”
You manage a small, shaky nod against the mat, too exhausted to speak. Your body is still buzzing, thighs sticky with a mixture of your slick and his cum, your ass burning hot from his smacks and painted with thick, glossy streaks of his release that slowly drip down between your cheeks.
Sukuna stands there for a moment longer, staring down at you —completely ruined and leaking his cum onto the gym floor. A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips.
“Clean up before you leave, princess,” he murmurs.
Then he turns and walks toward the locker room, his footsteps echoing softly until they fade away completely.
You stay there for a long minute, breathing hard against the mat, heart still racing, skin warm and sticky with the evidence of everything he just did to you.
18+ gruff older!bf toji loves cumming all over your face.
(mdni: toji nutting on your face basically.)
your knees hurt from being pressed against the cold floor, left cheek blush pink and stinging from the weight of his little slaps. toji stays slumped on his beat-up leather couch, the cushions sinking and dented from the sheer weight of his body.
your hands stay planted on his thighs, fingers digging into the muscular flesh as he slaps the tip of his cock against your tongue. fuck, its heavy, ridges running along the side of his shaft, veins taut from the base up. hes unshaven, his base blooming with little black curls that cramp around his cock like a lawn left unmowed.
he groans once, twice- palm curved around the weight of him, pumping up and down with slow, hypnotising movements that stretch on like hes got all the time he wants.
his other hand, heavy and calloused, runs through the side of your scalp, fingertips brushing through the strands, keeping your face a clear canvas for him to paint on later.
the way you look up at him, all soft and pretty, has his cock twitching beneath his palm, heavy and begging for release.
"gonna' nut all over this face." he groans, fingers trailing down from your hair to your jaw.
you let out a soft protest at his words, to which he just smiles at, all smug and slow, the scar on the corner of his lip pulling taut like hes just won the lottery.
"aint fair for ya, huh?" he drawls.
his thumb presses gently against your lip, and he lets out a soft huff when your tongue comes out to wet the rough pad of it, his eyes going hot when you press open mouthed kisses to the pad of his thumb.
"mm," he moans, low.
he pressed the base of his thumb to your tongue, letting you suck on it before he pulls it out with a wet pop!, pressing it gently against your lower lip, his hand now drifting down to the edge of your blouse, the fabric half open and waiting for him to tear it right off.
"take this shit off," he groans, trying to one handedly unbutton your top with thick, clumsy fingers. you place your fingers over his own, guiding them, now gently, as they unbutton the blouse, the fabric now falling down your shoulders, revealing both soft swells of your breasts.
"goddamn. look at these tits," he rasps, almost smiling.
his hand cups one, squeezing the plump flesh, feeling the weight of it in his hand. his thumb, calloused and rough, brushes over your nipple until it perks against his skin, and he gives it a quick light pinch.
"bring that face closer," he groans, coaxing you forward until your nose bumps against his shaft. "yeah, yeah. like that, shit."
his hand is still wrapped around his cock, slow pumps now quickening, the pressure and need to cum sitting so heavy inside of him to the point that he could cum at any moment. he tips his head back, hissing softly.
he groans again, eyes sliding down to look at your face. eyes sliding over the way you look at him with that expression that says hes allowed to do anything to you.
and then-
hot ropes of cum splurt all over your face, eliciting a soft whine from your lips. some lands on your mouth, other on your nose and cheeks. he squeezes his shaft, low grunts leaving his lips as he paints all over your face.
the corner of his lip tips up into a smile, and he lets out a low laugh, the sound raspy and strained from earlier. you look almost dumb founded, not having expected that much.
Synopsis: Dex cares about you…maybe too much. What’s the harm in looking out for a friend though, right? Right…?
Benjamin Poindexter has got you in a mean chokehold. Thick bicep flexing around the soft expanse of your throat, calloused fingertips pressed into your scalp, your hair curled around his fingers in a way that burns. It hurts, all of it. The way his other hand has your wrists pinned behind your back, grip so tight it feels like the bones are grinding, bruising in real time. Your breathing is laboured, choked sounding, as you struggled to swallow despite the way his muscles are constricting your throat. You can taste iron, though you’re not sure if it’s his blood or your own.
“Don’t move-” It’s a command, his voice low in your ear, breathing laboured as his chest presses against your spine. “Make one more god damned sound and I’ll snap your neck.”
The threat has anger coiling behind your ribs, your lip curling, teeth bared. You’d have snapped back at him if your windpipe wasn’t being crushed. Dex’s lips brush against the soft curve of your ear as he tries to catch his breath, and you try to wrench your head away from him, disgusted with yourself for having let this animal get close enough to you to have you in such a compromising position.
But Dex can feel your muscles tensing, your rigid stance beginning to shift as you struggled to control your breath. His grip was too tight, and he could feel you fighting to take in a deeper gulp of air. But if he let you go, you could scream, reveal his position, maybe even-
You jerked forward in his grip and Dex’s hand tightened in your hair, another warning.
“I’ll let you breathe if you promise not to scream,” His tone is mean, biting, as he forces your head back. Maybe it’s mocking, animalistic even, but he lets his canine graze the soft flesh of your ear, relishing in the way your body tenses. “You make a fuckin’ peep and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Got it?”
There’s silence for a beat. Two beats, nearly three-
“Nod your god damn head if you understand me,” He snaps, though his voice is still a whisper. You nod, the smallest of movements in his vicelike grip. Dex shifts then, his grip loosening in your hair as his arm releases ever so slightly. Your throat is no longer pinned in the crook of his elbow and you take in a gulp of air, a ragged breath escaping you as your breathing levels out.
“There there,” His tone is condescending as he shifts his stance, turning so that he can grin at the top of your head. “That’s it.”
You’re still shaking in his grip, though the anger is now laced with fear. “What do you want, Dex?” Your tone is biting despite the circumstances that’s got you vibrating in your neighbor’s grip.
Dex is silent for a moment, seemingly mulling over what he’d like to say to you. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this,” He finally laments and you nearly scoff.
“That you were stalking me? No shit.” Dex’s grip around your throat tightens again and you hiss, eyes snapping shut. You should have stayed silent.
“Don’t be so-” He huffs before he’s stretching his neck, shoulders flexing like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Condescending, Y/N.” He sucks on his teeth, feet shifting as he taps a rhythm against your wrists. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“You’re an asshole,” You wheeze, back arching as you try to crane your neck, desperate to be free from this lunatic’s grip. He only laughs behind you. It sounds dry, unamused, bored even.
“Maybe,” His lips are against your ear again. You hate the way goose bumps ripple across your skin. A breathy chuckle escapes him and his warm breath ghosts across the skin of your collar bones. It seems as if he’ll say more, but instead Dex stays silent, fingers flexing against your wrists like he’s deciding whether or not he’ll release you.
Ultimately, he decides to, thick bicep slowly straightening as he releases you from his vicelike chokehold. Your head tips forward, and you swallow, a dull ache now present in the muscles of your throat. You suck in a lungful of air, acutely aware of how tense Dex is behind you. He hasn’t released your wrists yet, instead allowing his free hand to drift across your shoulders as he mulls over what he should do next.
“Why me?” The words escape you before you’ve properly thought about how they could impact the obviously unwell man behind you.
Dex is silent. You try to crave your neck to see him, but his hand is suddenly gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze forward. You hiss, his grip bruising as he keeps you in place.
“Keep your gaze forward.”
You breathe hard through your gritted teeth, jaw flexing as you try to control the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t have to manhandle me so much.”
Dex sucks his teeth again, index finger tapping a soft rhythm against the corner of your lip. “You’re feisty. Can’t chance it again.”
You almost smile, the memory of your fist connecting with his lip replaying in your mind. He clearly hadn’t anticipated you attacking first when he’d pushed the doors of your balcony open and walked in like he’d owned the place. How many times had he done that? He’d seemed too comfortable, too smooth. Was it only when you weren’t home? What about when you were sleeping?
Realizing Dex was stalking you had been…jarring, to say the least. You’d known for months that something was off in your every day life, and you’d only recently started to put your finger on it. A stalker. You’d started watching everyone in your life more closely, waiting for a slip up, anything. You hadn’t expected it to be Dex, or maybe you’d hoped it wouldn’t be. The calm, calculated, handsome man who lived in the apartment above you. FBI. It made sense, right? He had the skills, the experience, the motive. But Dex had been nice, you’d even considered him somewhat of a friend.
But rounding the corner and recognizing the way the man’s shoulder’s shifted when you’d caught someone in the reflection of the window of a storefront? It impressed Dex. You were smart, observant, and your intuition was almost alarming it was so accurate.
You’d surprised him. Even more so when you’d stared straight through him, eyes fixed on where his should have been in the reflection and said one simple word; his name.
His full name.
“Poindexter.”
It was firm, resolute, almost…eerie. He’d frozen, heart in his throat, how had you caught him?
But before he could move forward, explain himself, explain that he was just worried about you, just wanted to make sure his neighbor was safe, that she was cared for, you were gone.
You’d taken off in a sprint, purse tucked carefully under your arm, breath laboured.
Fuck.
Where were you supposed to go?
Home, you realized. Because where else? He knew everything about you, because not only was he stalking you, you had let him in. Trusted him. Considered him a friend.
But home? It had everything you needed. You could grab your things and then run. Going to the police would do nothing. He was FBI. You were positive he had tricks up his sleeve, he was Dex-he was smart.
How had you been so dumb? How had you not known it was Dex?
Somewhere deep within you whispered that you were being foolish. You had suspected Dex for weeks, maybe even known it was him, but had foolishly hoped that just this once, maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just looking out for you. He was charming, friendly, skilled. You enjoyed his company. Why would you assume something so big that it could ruin the very nice thing you had going with your neighbor?
Well, that tended to fall apart when he 1) stalked you, and 2) you tried to knock him over with a chair.
Dex had landed in your apartment like a lynx-smooth, silent, quick.
And you’d slammed your kitchen chair into his chest like you were an MMA fighter.
The fight only escalated from there.
You were proud of the way you’d handled yourself, more rage than fear burning through you as you fought the greying blonde. You’d landed a few hits, teeth bared as you fought to simply knock him down and have him stay down long enough to run again.
But Dex was strong, and skilled. He’d tried at first to simply subdue you-he didn’t want to hurt you, he cared about you. You were smart, kind, you’d let him in and listen when he was struggling. But you were also landing hits and your strength surprised him.
Eventually, he’d had to knock you down, use his full strength to keep you down. He hadn’t meant to be so rough, but you’d nearly knocked his jaw out of place. It was only fair that he knocked you back with just enough effort to get you into a position he could control.
But not before you’d bitten him.
“Fuck!” He’d nearly shouted when your teeth had sank into the muscle of his shoulder. He’d had to wrench you away from him like some wild animal, and he’d nearly snapped your neck with the force it had taken. His hand had been curled in your hair, grip tight enough to hurt as he’d pulled you off of him, his own blood coating your teeth.
He didn’t miss the way his chest had tightened at the sight.
You were tougher than he’d given you credit for.
But the tussle had hurt the both of you, and now here you were; back pressed against his chest, both of you bruised and bloodied, rage and betrayal coiled like snakes in the pits of your stomach. Dex, angry that he’d made such a fuck up with you, lip split and sore from where your fist had connected with it and you; betrayed and bloodthirsty because how dare a man pull such a cruel stunt? Was it what you deserved for having had faith that maybe just this one time, one would prove themselves to be good?
“Why?” Your voice was sharp, words almost slurred from the way he was gripping your jaw. “Why were you stalking me?”
You couldn’t see it, but Dex’s face curled into a grimace. He was embarrassed and angry with himself for having gotten caught. He had just wanted to make sure you were safe, that you were okay. You were too nice, listened too often to assholes who could hurt you, men who may try to take your time, time away from him.
His breathing was laboured, sharp, head buzzing with adrenaline-no, fear-as he tried to collect himself.
“Answer me,” You growled and suddenly Dex was pushing his pointer and middle finger past your swollen lower lip, the rough pads of his fingers heavy against your tongue. You started, nearly recoiling at the way he was silencing you, thicker fingers pressing past your teeth.
“Shh, just let me-let me-” Dex shudders behind you, stance shifting as he tries to collect himself. “Let me think.”
You blink, eyes wide. You could bite him, right now, leave him bloodied and injured with the way he’s got you situated. Two fingers pressed against your tongue, nose buried in your hair as he tries to collect himself.
You don’t, instead you find yourself trying not to flush with embarrassment at the way your spit is beginning to soak the digits. Your teeth press lightly into the skin, breath warm around him.
Dex lifts his head after a few moments, swallowing loudly behind you. The gesture doesn’t seem to be intentional in its sexual nature, and Dex seems to be genuinely lost in himself behind you, his anxiety obvious as it continues to climb.
“I-I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dex finally begins to speak, and his voice sounds different, somewhat smaller. His fingers flex absentmindedly against your tongue as he struggles to find the words, desperate to explain himself.
He couldn’t handle you leaving, hating him.
“It started out simple, I was just looking out for you. I was worried-” Dex lets out a shaky breath and you feel the way it shifts across the back of your neck. He licks his lips before he continues, “You’re too nice to people. Your exes, coworkers, hell even strangers, they try to take advantage of you.”
You frown, tongue shifting against his fingers as if to protest because no, you establish boundaries and are quite good at communicating-
But Dex’s fingers flatten against your tongue, silencing you. You try to swallow the spit that’s accumulating in your mouth but it’s difficult given the way he’s pressing into your mouth. You feel the digits press against the roof of your mouth as your tongue shifts, drool slipping past the edge of your mouth and down the corner of your lip, soaking his fingers.
The filthy nature of the situation is embarrassing.
Still, you squirm, ashamed at the part of you that’s thrilled by the way he’s got your wrists pinned, how he’s silencing you, and how desperate he sounds behind you as he struggles to explain himself.
“I care about you Y/N,” He says earnestly in your ear, sighing behind you. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. Can’t you see that?”
He was delusional, far more damaged than you’d originally thought, and fear prickled along the length of your spine. He genuinely believed he was in the right, that he was doing you a service, that he was a hero of sorts.
“Please,” His voice is desperate, near whiny. “Can’t you see that?”
You try to pull your head away from him, his fingers pressing too deeply into your throat, a breathy sound escaping you. You can’t speak, can’t answer him when he’s got you situated like this. If he pressed any further into your mouth you feared you may gag on him.
“I’m gonna move my hands, okay?” Dex’s voice is a bit more firm now as he speaks, his lips beside your ear. “Don’t scream.”
There’s a beat of silence before Dex begins to slowly slide his fingers across your tongue, pulling them from your mouth before he’s holding your jaw again. His hand is wet against your skin as he cradles your face in hand, his firm grip a reminder of the control he has over the situation.
Your tongue slides across your lip, the salt of his skin mixing with the iron of your blood.
“You didn’t need to stalk me,” Your voice is hoarse. “I was-” You sigh, frustrated as you struggle to find the words. “I thought we were friends.”
A little more, actually. You’d hoped he was interested and had fantasized about him more than you’d ever care to admit out loud.
“We are friends,” Dex insists, shifting closer to you. You startle, eyes widening as your hands brush against the crotch of his jeans. It isn’t intentional, you know that, it’s just the nature of the position he’s still got you forced in. Your wrists are trapped in his much larger hand, pressed against your tailbone as he shifts closer. “I just had to make sure you were safe-”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” You snap back, and it’s far more mean than you’d meant it to be. “That’s not what you were doing Dex, so cut the bullshit.”
You crane your neck to look back at him and for the first time this evening, Dex allows you to. You can only catch the corner of his face but what you can see startles you.
Pupils blown wide, greying hair moussed, drying blood at his temple, nostrils flared as he tries to catch his breath.
He looked…scared.
“Tell me why. Now. And be honest.”
Dex opens his mouth to speak again, stuttering over more bullshit before you’re rocking your head back, skull connecting with his chin. He curses, nearly losing his grip on you.
It aches but you snap at him again anyway. “Stop lying to me!”
“Fine!” He barks, and suddenly his hand is slipping from your jaw, long, slender fingers wrapping around your throat as he leans forward. “I don’t want to share you.”
You pause, eyes fixed on the wall ahead of you.
“Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice is a snarl, nasty, mean, as he talks down to you. “I don’t want anyone else spending their time with you. Listening to you, learning you, taking you away from me. I can do all of that for you. I can be there for you, help you, keep you safe. Isn’t that enough?”
You should be scared. More than that, you should be scared that you’re not scared. But a part of you, maybe the broken part that you should have addressed years ago, is flattered. Flattered that someone as intelligent, calculated and skilled as Dex has become so possessive over you. Flattered that someone so handsome was angry at the thought of sharing you.
So when you flex your hand and your palm flattens against the zipper of Dex’s jeans, right where his dick should be, and you feel him catch his breath, you don’t say a word. It seems innocent enough, like you’re trying to release some of the tension in your muscles, but Dex’s fingers flex against the smooth skin of your neck and you feel it-
Feel the way his cock flexes against your palm, the way it seems to jump to life at your touch.
Dex seems startled by it, swallowing loudly. “What’re you-”
He’s cut off when you cup him, grip tight as a strangled moan escapes him, face tipping forward against the back of your head as he momentarily loses control. Your pulse flutters under his fingertips, hands pinned between your ass and his front as you gently squeeze his hardening cock.
“Y/N,” Your name is a breathy warning on his tongue, his eyes wide as he stares down at your hand and how you’re palming him. This wasn’t what he’d expected, especially not with how angry you’d been with him only moments before. “If this is some sort of game-” He’s cut off when a strangled grunt escapes him, your thumb rubbing circles over the head of his sensitive dick. He can feel the wet spot forming in his jeans as his hips jerk forward, desperate for more friction, for more of you.
Was this mean? Maybe. Cruel? Probably. Maybe that should have startled you, but it didn’t. Instead, you continued to palm Dex’s growing erection through his jeans, thumb swiping across the growing wet spot where the leaking slit should be. His breathing was laboured, hot against your scalp as his hand flexed around your wrists. His grip on your throat was loosening, thumb coming up to drag across your lower lip.
If you could distract him long enough, then you could break free. That was the plan; use his attraction to you as an advantage, tease him long enough to have him let his guard down so you could escape.
Right.
Yes.
That sounded like a good plan.
Right?
So why could you feel your nipples hardening beneath your bra? And was Dex’s whiny, pathetic moans spurring you on? You could feel your cunt clenching around nothing, a damp heat beginning to flood the space between your thighs, goose bumps rippling across your skin at the way his breathing was shifting as he bucked into your hand.
Normal, you told yourself. My body’s just reacting, perfectly normal.
“Y/N,” He whispered, and it sounded broken. “Please.”
Oh, fuck.
You felt your chest tighten at how desperate he sounded.
Oh…was Dex a sub?
You found yourself screwing your eyes shut, trying desperately to will your body to just shut off and listen, to be scared of the situation, to be logical but Dex’s erection was full now and it was thick in your hand as your fingers traced the shape of it. Long, full, the kind that hurt you as they pushed into you, the kind that had you begging men to slow down as your nails sunk into their hips, the kind that had you squirming because of how good the burn was as they stretched you open.
But of course Dex was big. Of course the complicated, handsome, clearly somewhat insane man who was stalking you also had a huge dick.
And of course he was hard for you.
And of course he was panting and whimpering as he let his forehead fall against your shoulder, tongue lolling out as he lapped at your skin. And of course your name sounded sinful as his teeth grazed the gentle slope of your skin before he was biting into it.
“Ah, Dex!” You hissed, his canines sharp as they pressed into you. His only response was a breathy hum before his fingers were pressing against your lips again, gently tracing the shape of them.
“Open up.”
You didn’t mean to oblige, didn’t mean to moan softly as his fingers slid across your tongue, didn’t mean to have your eyes drift shut when he ground himself further into your hand. You didn’t mean to shiver when his lips pressed against your ear as you drooled on his fingers, didn’t mean to whine when he slid his tongue across your ear, or cry out when he pressed his tongue into your ear and started making out with it.
Oh, fuck-
Squirming didn’t help, didn’t sway him as he continued to lap at your ear, thumb hooked under your chin, two fingers pressing into your tongue as he kept you still for him. He was rutting gently into your hand, tongue wet and hot as it slid over the shell of your ear.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I imagined what you’d sound like once I got my hands on you,” Dex’s voice was deep, breathy, shiver inducing as he spoke gently to you. “How many times I imagined it was me touching you while I listened to all the pretty sounds you make when you make yourself feel good.”
Your eyes snapped open, startled at the realization that Dex has been spying on you while at home. You struggled to speak against his fingers but Dex just tutted in response. “Mm mm,” He hummed, gently pushing your tongue down. “Stay quiet for me.”
The action had heat flooding your core. The lack of control had you sinking into his grip.
“I want to make you feel good,” Dex begged in your ear, nose brushing against your temple. “Please, Y/N, let me make you feel good.” He gently withdrew his fingers from your mouth, spit soaked and shaking slightly as he gently pressed them against your cheek. He was silent as he waited for you to respond.
You paused, heart hammering in your chest as you mulled over your options. Dex was buzzing behind you, acutely aware of the infinitely thin ledge he was currently toeing with you.
He only breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you shift to curl your fingers around his belt buckle and tug, hands still trapped behind you.
“Take these off,” You murmured and Dex swallowed, hand still wrapped tightly around your wrists. He couldn’t let go, fearful you’d run, his need to control control control overruling his desire.
Dex shuffled back half an inch, eyes dark as he began to fumble with his belt buckle. He was watching your hands flex in his grip, finger tips tracing the obvious bulge in his jeans as he struggled to pull the belt free. It took only a few moments despite the slight shake in his hands, before he was watching with bated breath as you pinched his zipper and tugged.
“Dex, help.”
He felt like he couldn’t focus, heart in his throat as he unbuttoned his jeans, watching the way you tugged the zipper down and pushed past the fabric, fingers slipping beneath the waist band of his briefs and then-
Dex should have been embarrassed at the sound that escaped him when your fingers wrapped around the thick shaft of his dick. He should have been embarrassed with how his hips jerked forward when your grip tightened, the weight of him heavy in your palm when you pulled his dick from his pants started jerking him off. He should have been embarrassed at how turned on he was watching your fingers trace the flushed tip of his cock despite the fact that he was still holding your wrists in his other hand, how your hands were still being held behind your back, how big his dick looked in your smaller hands, and how he couldn’t peel his eyes away when he started gently bucking into your grip.
“Dex.”
He realized you’d been gently calling his name and he whimpered, cock flexing.
“Hm?” He hummed, half lidded gaze lifting to the back of your head.
“Spit on it. Spit on my hand.”
His cock jumped in your hand at the lewd command and he damn near busted in that moment.
“Y-yes m’am,” He finally managed, tongue sliding across the back of his teeth before he was gathering his spit. It was filthy, the way it sounded as he tipped his head forward and spat onto the length of his cock and watched as it slid across your fingers. Even filthier still when you began to jerk him off again, using his own spit as lube.
Dex’s eyes snapped shut, head falling forward as he cried out, hips stuttering at the brutal pace you’d set. It was somewhat awkward, your hands still forced behind your back, the tip of his cock pressed against your ass, his free hand moving back up to wrap around your throat as you jerked him off. He was a mess, breathing laboured as he whined in your ear, soft gasps escaping him every time the edge of your tight fist caught the sensitive tip.
He wasn’t going to last long, not like this. Not with his face buried in your hair and the scent of your conditioner flooding his senses. Not with the way you were tightening your grip on him. Not with the way your own breathing had shifted, or how you were encouraging him to let go.
“That’s it Dex,” Your voice was so god damn soft, so you, so- “That’s it baby, does that feel good?”
He ruts forward at the pet name, fingers flexing around your wrists.
“Uh huh,” It’s breathy, needy. Embarrassing.
“Is this how you wanna cum?” Your voice is like honey, though somewhat condescending and Dex feels like he may keel over. His cock is unbelievably sensitive in your firm grip, the obscene shlick shlick sounds drifting upwards as you continue to tug on him, precum and his own spit mixing across the thick length and flushed tip.
“D-do I have a choice?” He manages, and he tilts his head forward, pupils blown wide as he stares down at your chest. Fuck, you look good.
He can hear the way you grin as you answer; “No.”
Dex can’t help himself, can’t help the way his hand shifts from your throat and slides down your chest, how he palms your tit through the flimsy fabric of your tank top, can’t help the way he tugs the cup of your bra down so he can let his fingers drag across your nipples. He can’t help the way he feels your arch in his grip, chest pressing into his hand when he pinches your sensitive peaks, or the way his grin turns sinister when your body so clearly responds to him.
He knew you liked him, knew you wouldn’t deny him, knew you were his. Filthy, desperate, needy, just like him. All his.
No one else deserved to have this, have you. You belonged with him, to him.
“That’s it,” His voice is soft, though the tone is almost cruel as he tugs your top and bra beneath your breast, pushing it free and leaving you exposed. He lifts his hand to your mouth once more and taps your lips, encourage you to open your mouth. You oblige, a soft sound of surprise escaping you when he forces his fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time that evening. “Suck.”
You do, eyes drifting shut as your tongue slides across his thick fingers, cheeks hollowing as you suck him further into your mouth. You can hear the way Dex moans behind you, body sagging against you as he ruts more aggressively into your fist. Needy son of a bitch.
He pulls his fingers free from your mouth with a wet pop and you whine softly, though it’s replaced with a loud gasp when he begins to toy with your exposed nipple, coating it in your own spit.
“How’s that, hm?” His voice is barely above a whisper, blonde scruff dragging against the soft shell of your ear as he speaks. “Feel good?”
Your head falls back against his shoulder, grip tightening around his cock as you momentarily surrender to the pleasure. Dex shouldn’t have known these things, known exactly what got you going, but clearly he’d been stalking and watching you for far longer than you’d realized.
A particularly sharp tug has you gasping, eyes snapping open.
“Answer me.”
You nod, thighs clenching at the harsh treatment, before answering: “Y-yes Dex, it feel’sgood.”
“Good girl,” It’s a purr in your ear, his voice smooth as velvet as he continues to palm at your chest. Your eyes drifting shut, mouth falling open as Dex continues to fuck his cock into your slick fist, his grip still bruising as he holds your wrists. It was filthy, abhorrent, the way he seemed to be using you to pleasure yourself, and yet you found yourself growing needier, pussy soaked, as time wore on.
You moaned softly as Dex’s large, warm palm began to smooth down the expanse of your rib cage and over your stomach, fingers dipping into the waist band of your pants.
“This what you want, huh?” He asks, near breathless. You try to turn to him, to catch his gaze, but he’s got his chin on your shoulder, eyes glued to your arching body. “Filthy girl, so needy for me, pretendin’ she’s mad that I know her.” His hand slips below your jeans and you gasp, suddenly nervous. “That I need her.”
“Wait-” You startle, trying to straighten. “Dex-”
His fingers are suddenly sliding between the slick folds of your pussy and you cry out, startled by the sheer amount of slick to be found, and how fuckin’ sensitive you are.
You hadn’t realized how needy he’d made you feel until his middle finger was gently sliding over your swollen clit.
“Fuck!” It was a gasp as you arched, head pressing against his shoulder.
“Don’t try and stop me,” He snarls, and the animalistic gaze that meets yours when your eyes open should have scared you. You know that, that Dex should scare you shitless, but instead you find yourself clenching around his fingers as he pushes two into your aching cunt.
“Gah, Dex!” You nearly sob, fist tight around his dick as he begins pumping his fingers into you, palm pressed flat against your swollen clit, an embarrassing amount of slick now covering his hand and fingers.
Dex curses, hips jumping forward, before he turns to press his lips against your ear, merciless as he begins to work you open.
“I know you more than you know yourself,” It’s a growl, a warning. “Let me in. Let me take care of you.”
The pace is brutal, filthy, the wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you are obscene as they fill the dark expanse of your now messy apartment. You’re on the tips of your toes, back arching, head pressed into Dex’s shoulder as his palm pushes against your clit. Your breathing is laboured, whines and praise freely escaping you as Dex works you up faster than any man ever has.
“D-Dex!” It’s a warning, your thighs shaking, as you struggle to continue to pump his cock, eyes blurring with tears as your orgasm builds at an alarming rate. You want so desperately to continue to pleasure him, his cock unbelievably hard in your fist as he forces you to ride his fingers.
“That’s it pretty girl,” His voice is shaking with the effort he’s putting into making you cum on him. “Gonna watch you cum all over me, all for me, yeah? Isn’t that what you want? Do it, fuckin’ cum for me. All over my fingers-” He tilts his head, grinning as his lips brush against your ear once more. “Before I fill you to the fuckin’ brim with my cock. See how pretty you look when I stretch you open.”
His voice sends you over the edge with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut as begin to shake in his firm grip, thighs desperately trying to close around his thick fingers. But Dex doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop as he continues his brutal pace, fingers pushing into your fluttering cunt.
“Keep touching me baby,” He pleads, breathless when he finally, finally, releases your wrists and wraps his hand around your throat again, keeping you pinned against him as he forces you to ride out your orgasm.
It’s overwhelming, overstimulating as you clench around his thick fingers, and you feel delirious when Dex is suddenly grunting in your ear, hot ropes of cum spilling across your hand and the back of your ass as he cums into your fist. He’s still pumping his fingers into you as he cums, whining in your ear as he ruts into your hand. You try, desperately to make sense of what’s happening, to gather your thoughts and do something, anything, as you come down from the high but instead you’re sinking against him, watching with bleary eyes as he pulls his hand from your jeans and-
God, you came so hard you fuckin’ creamed on his fingers and you can see it-
Dex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes half open as he pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping at the digits like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted and it has you licking your lips.
Dex keeps his eyes on you as he hand slips back into your jeans, fingers lazily pumping into you for a few moments, ignoring the way you wince and cry out softly, before he’s bringing his cum soaked fingers to your lips once more. He taps them-
once.
twice.
“Open up.”
You do, moaning softly as he presses his fingers against your tongue once more, the sweet, salty taste of your cum flooding your senses.
“That’s it,” Dex coos, voice unbelievably soft as he urges you on. “Such a good girl for me.”
He gently pulls his fingers free from you then before resting them against your lips. You have only a moment of rest before Dex is suddenly kissing you, breath hot as he laps at his fingers that are still pinned between your mouths.
You groan, mouth opening as you lick at his spit and cum soaked fingers, your tongues dancing and lapping at one another’s and around his thick digits. It’s wet, needy and unbearably hot. Despite the fact that he’s released your wrists, you keep them behind your back, still holding his softening, cum soaked cock in your hands while you kiss around his fingers.
Dex pulls back after a while, breathing heavy, a thick line of saliva attaching his swollen lips to yours, his pupils blown wide as he watches you. There’s a long stretch of silence as you regard one another, your breathing levelling out as you relax in your stalker’s embrace.
“I will not share you.”
Unfortunately, you’re starting to like the sound of that.
"It's all right princess, you can take us," Suguru murmurs in your ear, brushing your hair back to one side of your neck, kissing it all sweet like his cock isn't pressing into your cunt - stretching it right out with Satoru's length already buried, his pretty pink tip kissing your cervix.
"Relax, baby... f-uck you're so tight," Satoru's whimpering as he feels Suguru's tip sliding in right along side his. You're quivering around them both, nails digging into Satoru's shoulders, thighs shaking.
"Breathe," Suguru reminds you - it's stuck in your throat, you're so full already with Satoru's huge cock as you straddle him, Suguru easing from behind with just enough pressure to have you gushing down both of them. "You're taking us so well."
"Perfect, you're such a good girl," Satoru barely manages to speak, already coated in your slick with your gummy walls pulsing around him, he kisses down the curve of your pretty tit, lips wrapping around one of your nipples. "Mmm, so good."
You're struggling as their plump lips dance across your skin, leaving love marks as their fingers press into your thighs, your hips, the flesh giving underneath strong grips. You whine out when Suguru gets a little deeper, making you gasp, your head falling back against his chest.
"Toru... Sugu I..." You're so full when Suguru bottoms out, his pelvis flush against your ass with a loud smack. The stretch is overwhelming - Satoru's thick shaft pressing against your anterior wall, Suguru hitting those spots from behind.
They're so deep you can feel them in your stomach, the pressure so much you can't help but whine out, having blue eyes on your face hungry and dazed, Suguru's teeth sinking into your shoulder.
"Ngh! So much... too much..."
"Look at her," Suguru murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you steady as he begins to move in and out of you, his balls tightening as he feels himself gliding right along Satoru's thick length. "Already cock drunk and we haven't even started with you - tsk, such a slutty little princess."
Satoru chuckles breathlessly against your breast, his tongue swirling around an aereola, his hand on your tummy, he can't help but whine out when he feels the bulge of his cock. "She's always so needy with us, aren't you sweetheart? Needed both of us in your pussy, couldn't just have one?"
"Ngh," you don't have an answer, just your back arching as they guide your hips.
"Answer him, pretty," Suguru murmurs, turning your face and kissing your lips, saliva dripping as Satoru thrusts up into your cunt, and Suguru stays still. "God, you're made for us, aren't you?"
"Yes," you whisper, making Satoru scowl now, biting your tit. "Ow!"
"You answer him but not me!?" He glares and shoves up hard, making you gasp out and giggle. "No way you're giving him more attention right now."
"Stop being so jealous, Satoru," Suguru laughs, but when the friction of your snug walls and Satoru's cock moving against him hits, he can't stop his own moan.
"Jealous, me? No she loves me more than you," Satoru sucks in a breath - you're dripping around them, making obscene wet sounds that echo in the room, the squelches and squishes of your needy hole being filled has him leaking. "Don't you, tell him."
"Love you both," you mumble, Satoru bites your other tit when Suguru laughs, pulling back his cock and gliding in slow, taking over as Satoru stays snug and buried.
"Please," you're not even sure what you're begging for - for them to slow down? For them to go faster? For them to both pump their ropes of white cum inside?
"Please what, princess?" Suguru's breath tickles your ear, his cock shoving in and making you almost fall apart. "Please fuck you harder?"
"Hmm," Satoru continues his torture, chuckling as he kisses up your neck, huge hands gripping your ass. Suguru's cock feels so good moving against him - not that he'd admit that, plus he loves your walls quivering around him even more. "Please ruin this slutty little pussy?"
"Mmnph," you're not able to speak, drool spilling down the side of your mouth as they move. Every drag of their cocks against your walls has you about to fall apart, your nails leaving crescent marks in Satoru's pretty skin, hips rocking on their own. "Close, close!"
"Cum for us then," Suguru says softly, his long dark locks brushing over your shoulder as he tugs you down fully. "Let us feel you milk us, huh?"
"Don't you want all our cum? Want us to breed your needy cunt?" Satoru asks, biting back a whine and kissing up your throat, already pulsing himself.
"Y-yes I... ngh!" Your walls clench around them now as you shatter, squirting all down their lengths as they groan from the feeling of it, of your walls clamping down so that their tips are shoved together, the two of them losing it right with you. "Please, please..."
"God, look at you," Satoru gasps out as your aftershocks hit him, your slick pooling down and soaking the little white patch of hair underneath his belly button. "So fuckin' pretty, squirting for us?"
"You deserve to get filled, hmm?" He whispers, kissing you once more, laughing softly as he swipes your drool. "Princess, did we fuck you dumb already?"
Your answer is a little whine, cunt stretched impossibly as they quicken their movements, their moans slutty and filthy in your ears. Your lashes flutter shut as the pressure hits. "Cum in me, please..."
They of course give you what you need - their cum mixing with each others' as their tips spurt out, the two of them moaning as they cling to you, hugging your body between the two six foot four men. You feel it all, every spurt that floods you, sweat breaking out on your skin, Satoru leaning up and kissing your lips all desperate.
"Fuck you're already pushing all that out," Satoru murmurs, you giggle all breathless, suddenly feeling just how stuffed full you still are. Suguru drags you for another kiss just for Satoru to turn your head back, until their lips brush together. "Mmm, stop kissin' me Sugu."
"Our dicks are touching?"
"Yeah well," he's blushing, making you giggle just a bit. "What I tried not to think about that part!?"
"Sure, Toru," he glares and lifts you off them, the mix of their fluids just dripping down their cocks. "Mnh!"
"Look at the mess you made princess," Suguru's hand entangles in your hair and tugs, your core tightens as he looks down under those dark lashes at you. "Don't you think you should clean us up?"
