#but of course men always ruin it for you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makoodles · 1 year ago

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ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you’d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers.

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap.

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove.

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours.

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline.

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars.

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid.

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan.

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his.

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off.

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator.

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely.

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets.

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave.

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion.

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant.

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual?

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you.

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said.

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before.

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And�� well. All you ever try to do is impress him.

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it.

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show.

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl.

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes.

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee.

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit.

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself.

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit.

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass.

“Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky.

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip.

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit.

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight.

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo.

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway.

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying.

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery.

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside.

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic.

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen.

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in.

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go.

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you.

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours.

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him.

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage.

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud.

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit.

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly.

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face.

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean.

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot.

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt.

The minutes afterwards are a blur.

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought.

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

#ahem... hello 🥺👉👈#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 smut #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley smut

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

Text

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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glossysoap · 7 months ago

Note

OH. MY GOD. so in our little “price’s girl shared with the 141” au…

you become their own personal OF star. no official page no no. but a group chat SPECIFICALLY to send videos of price utterly ruining you (it eventually becomes any and all videos and pictures of any of them together, with or without you. safe in a seperate chat)

sharing is caring ; poly 141

OH JESUS i just about melted to the floor. this got away from me LMAO this is more centered on the first time you send pics to the group chat, so it’s the start of the whole dynamic. i really hope you enjoy!! i love talking about this au with you (talking to you in general ofc) <33

18+, afab reader, price x reader -> price sharing his girl with the 141, nudes, sharing of nudes (w readers consent, she's the one sharing them), purposefully lowercase.

i think maybe it starts out gradually. after all, you’re only used to sending risky pictures to your husband, john price.

you're dipping your toes in the water.

throughout your relationship and marriage, you would send him a variety of pictures to help boost his morale while on deployment and give him a taste of what was waiting for him at home.

sometimes it was a shot of your tits. sometimes they were held up by your lace bra and giving him a tease of the valley of your breasts. a lace bra he picked out, one he would have to restrain himself from ripping off of you. sometimes you would be covering your tits with one arm across your chest while your other hand was holding your phone, snapping the selfie. then of course, sometimes you would just be cupping your tits and letting the timed camera count down - capturing a perfectly uncovered view of your tits for your hardworking husband.

other times you would send him shots of your ass. all bare and plush and all his to squeeze and spank and bite. you would always be on your large bed, with your back arched and your ass in the air, letting the timed camera count down. presenting yourself to him just like you would if he was there with you right now, pressing his cock against your ass and letting you feel how hard he was. sometimes you would be sporting a pair of lingerie, just a thin stripe of fabric that left nothing to the imagination. whenever you wore them, it was almost with the intention to tease him - like you knew how much he would be itching to just tear that flimsy piece of fabric right off you.

sometimes you would send him pictures of your cunt all wet and on display for him. you'd be all bare and on display for him, your legs spread open all for him. he would be able to see the plush skin of your inner thighs, littered with stretch marks (that he yearned to taste again). he would be able to see your folds all swollen and dripping with slick as you presented yourself to your husband. whenever you sent him those pictures (or any picture of yourself, really), he could feel himself practically salivating. he would kill to be able to reach through the screen and swipe his thick fingers through your lips, gathering your juices on his fingers. he would kill to just devour you right then and there.

of course, sometimes you would send him one with everything. one where you would be laying in bed, all bare for him, and you would be holding your phone above you to get an aerial selfie. perfectly showing your tits and sensitive nipples, your stomach and your plush thighs. because you wanted to be thorough, you would always take the time to get a shot specifically for your cunt. you couldn't let him go wanting, not when he was providing for you like that.

all of those applied to videos, of course. you would always throw in some line that went straight to his cock (in addition to the visuals you provided), like, "fuck, i miss you so much," or, "god, i need you so bad. my big bear."

of course, as he began integrating his men with his personal life, you began growing closer to them as well. you would exchange glances and fleeting touches that lingered way too long, full of heat and tension. they were all simultaneously filled with guilt and anxiety. you were married. they were working under your husband's orders.

you felt like shit. like a two-timer, even though nothing had happened physically. at least, not really. you felt terrible. that was, until john had murmured something in your ear one night that flooded your core with heat.

"mmm. they've been lookin' at you like that too, y'know? they'd kill to get a taste of that pretty pussy." you practically shiver at both his words, the husky timbre of his voice and the scratch of his beard against your ear. "i would know. they've all begged me for a taste of her." you could imagine your eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

from that point on, your confidence was ping-ponging between outgoing or introverted. you constantly wondered if it was a good idea to pursue this.. new path. would it over complicate your husbands work life? the relationship's he had with his friends? or worse, your own marriage?

and when you weren't mulling yourself to death with the possibilities of what could go wrong, you were preoccupied with the possibilities of what could go right. toe curlingly right.

you could have the best of both worlds. you could have your husband all the time, both physically and emotionally - while also enjoying his men and their bodies. you could enjoy soap's, johnny's, nimble and thick fingers pumping in and out of you as he finger fucked you to the first orgasm of many. you could enjoy gaz's, kyle's, sweet mouth as he worshipped your breasts (breasts that you noticed he would stare at every chance he could) for all they were worth. licking, sucking and kissing at your sensitive nipples like he was a man starved. you could enjoy ghosts', simon's, cock, if john let him stuff you full of his length. by the buldge in his pants, you'd hoped to god that he would.

your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you added john's familiar number in a new text, before you read off three other numbers from a piece of paper your husband had left you. you knew who they belonged to, and just the thought made your core fill with heat. once you had formed a groupchat, you clicked on your gallery and selected two pictures you had taken only a minute prior.

both pictures were ones you would usually ever send to your husband. one of your tits, in a bra just to test your confidence. the other of your ass as you arched your back and let your ass perk up in the air. you opted to wear some lingerie in this one as well, again, to test your confidence. you didn't wanna bite off more than you could chew and scare yourself off. that would embarrass you beyond repair, and no matter how much your husband tried to convince you - you were sure it would embarrass him too. it wouldn't.

so you were playing it relatively safe. not explicitly showing nipples or completely uncovered breasts, or revealing anything except for a bikini line.

you typed out a quick text along with the photos. you had to admit, you would feel a bit awkward (even more so) if you just sent random almost nudes to someone that wasn't your husband without even so much as an accompanying text. you started off with the typical 'it's so-and-so,' so they could save your number into their phones.

hi, boys. felt like you might need a pick me up.

your thumb hovered over the blue 'send' button before letting out an exhale, and pressing send.

only a few minutes passed before your phone was blowing up from all four men. a lot of texts from all of them, some in all caps, some filled with misspellings, some with emojis.

in a few painstakingly long minutes, they had left about five voicemails each. even more missed calls and voice messages.

the general consensus was: be ready when we get home.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

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planetaryupscaled · 1 month ago

Text

Best Friends Share Everything

Male Reader x Yunjin x Karina

Tags: 18k, smut, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

Yunjin tugged at her clothes. “Look, can’t we just get naked again? This shirt itches. And these pants are too tight.”

“I’m not comfortable either, but your friend will be here soon. We can put up with it for one evening.” I said, “And then I get to undress you. I hardly ever get to do that anymore. Taking off your clothes always feels like Christmas.”

Yunjin smiled and shook her head, then went back to tidying up her living room. I turned back to preparing dinner before her best friend arrived.

Hearing Yunjin complain about wearing clothes was such a remarkable change from the shy, reluctant girl I’d met only three months before. When we first met, I discovered a girl inhibited by years of shame, guilt and fear about sex and men instilled by her extremely strict upbringing. She had barely dated anyone, and had only had sex couple times with the same inexperienced guy.

After our weekend of camping and sexual adventure, she became a changed woman. Yunjin still felt some shame when we were together, but the fear was gone and she was rapidly releasing her pent-up desires and curiosity about sex. Such a beautiful transformation to witness. I admired her courage and loved that I was the target of Yunjin’s blossoming sexual freedom.

Surprisingly, the nudity helped. It was new to us both, but whether she was at my place or hers, she insisted we shuck off our clothes the moment we closed the apartment door. Just doing normal things without clothes felt great, and somehow it helped us to be more open with each other. It was more difficult to keep secrets when all your intimate bits are on full display. We were so used to being naked that it wasn’t sexual, just, freeing.

Regardless, I still caught myself staring at her beauty. Yunjin had modest boobs with an unusually narrow waist that flared out to womanly hips and an ass that was broad and toned. I could look at her all day and never grow tired.

Yunjin had invited her best friend Karina for dinner as a thank you, of sorts. I knew Karina a little through one of my close friends, and it was her who suggested Yunjin and I should meet.

“You did actually talk to her before, right?” asked Yunjin as she fussed, straightening up her apartment.

I was at her stove, cooking. I called back, “Only a few times. It’s my friend who really knows her. She was there many times when we went out drinking.”

“Did you ever ask her out?”

“C’mon, she would have told you that. She’s your best friend. No, I never got to know her that well. I thought she was already taken.”

“Oh, she’s constantly ‘taken’. Then ‘untaken’. And ‘taken’ again. She never keeps a guy for long.”

“But she’s gorgeous,” I said.

It’s true. Karina was a beauty: tall with elegant features, tight ass, big boobs. She was a walking wet dream to most guys.

“You know, you’re not supposed to tell your girlfriend that another woman is gorgeous.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. What I meant to say was that I could see how some guys might find her attractive, but she’s a bitch compared to the radiant, heart stopping beauty of my lovely, funny and brilliant Yunjin.”

A couch cushion sailed from the living room and hit me in the back of my head.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “No disturbing the chef or dinner will be ruined.” I tossed the cushion back to Yunjin.

“Since it’s you cooking, dinner is probably already ruined.”

“Ouch. C’mon, you have to admit I do okay for a guy. Of course, I don’t have your genetic advantage.”

Yunjin looked puzzled. “What?”

“You know… the cooking and cleaning genes that women possess. No guy can ever compete with that.”

Yunjin opened her mouth to say something but then looked at the can of furniture polish in her hand and at her made appetiser laid out on the coffee table.

We were still laughing and calling each other mean names when the bell rang.

Yunjin let Karina in and she kissed her on the cheek. When I extended my hand to shake hers, Karina pulled me close and kissed my cheek too.

“So, you’re the guy who saved Yunjin.”

“Nice to see you again, Karina,” I said. “Save her? I prefer to think that I’ll be the ruin of her. Bet her parents think that already.”

Karina smiled. “They would if they knew what you two have been doing.”

I went back to cooking and let the girls talk. When the food was ready, Karina helped us serve. We opened some cheap wine, then I proposed a toast.

“To Karina. Who insisted Yunjin and I meet and is therefore the cause of her imminent ruin.” The girls chuckled then we clinked glasses.

From the few brief times I had talked to Karina before, I knew she was brash and straightforward, so I was a little anxious. I needed to make a good impression since the pair had been best friends since high school. Karina studying me intensely at the start of dinner didn’t help, but soon she was joking and telling embarrassing stories about Yunjin as if all of us were old friends.

“I never knew that getting your brains fucked out would have changed you so much, Yunjin.” Karina said and eyed me for a reaction.

Yunjin gasped, “Karina!”

“Well, it’s true,” said Karina. “You’ve changed so much since hooking up with this guy. I’ve tried so many times to draw you out of your shell. Guess that’s what’s made us such good friends, huh? Guy troubles.”

I poured us all more wine and said, “Okay, Karina, that’s what I don’t get. You’re beautiful and you seem to have your act together, yet Yunjin says you have trouble finding good guys. But everyone must be tripping over themselves for you.”

Karina paused, then said, “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

“Uh…”

Yunjin said, “What she means is, Karina attracts every asshole in the universe. What is it you call your theory?”

“The ‘Too Fucking Pretty’ Syndrome,” said Karina.

“Yeah, that, Arrogant assholes are always trying to get in her pants. And nice guys think they don’t stand a chance so they stay away.” said Yunjin.

“Guys have been hitting on me since I was like, eight.”

“Well, that’s disgusting,” I said.

“Welcome to my world. Everywhere its cat-calls on the street and macho dipshits who want to claim me as their trophy.”

I paused. “You know… to be honest, I think I’m guilty of that too. I never even considered approaching you when we hung out at the bars with Doyun.”

“See? Now if you had, maybe it’d be me telling Yunjin how happy I am, instead of the other way around.”

I didn’t know how to process that bizarre comment, so I said “But you can approach guys too. And online it’s easy.”

“Oh, it is. But guys see my pictures and think they’re fake, or I’m trolling. But I shouldn’t complain. I have found a few good guys.” Karina replied.

“Well, that’s great.” I said.

“One guy moved away, another guys challenging him.”

“Challenging him?”

“The ‘hey baby, drop that loser and come get with a real man’ thing. And when the assholes didn’t take ‘go fuck yourself’ for an answer, there was always a fistfight. He got tired of it. So did another guy I saw for a while.”

“Well,” I said. “Then I guess you’re screwed. Either you make yourself ugly, which would take an awful lot of work, or give up and become a nun. I hear there’s a big demand for nuns right now.”

Karina scoffed and Yunjin threw an eye at me.

Yunjin laughed, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Are all this guy’s jokes this same ‘dad joke’ level of quality?” Karina said.

“Oh, mostly,” said Yunjin. “Imagine how bad the jokes would be if he ever did become a dad? I’d have to leave him.”

Karina cast a catty look at Yunjin

“From what you told me; you almost did make him a dad.”

Yunjin blushed and lowered her eyes.

“Yeah… that was bad. I’m on the pill now.”

I interrupted. “Hold on there. Just how much did Yunjin tell you about our camping trip?”

“Everything,” said Karina and Yunjin in unison.

“Yunjin!? what the hell?” I said, dumbfounded.

“What? She’s my best friend. We tell each other everything.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel completely exposed.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of that,” said Karina, “You know, Yunjin, at school you never even got naked in the locker room. Always covered up with a towel. Then you spend a whole weekend naked with this guy? Did he hypnotize you or something?”

I leaned back and rested my hands behind my head. “It’s just my charisma and masculine charm.”

“Oh, ew,” said Karina, wrinkling her nose.

“You should try it!” Yunjin said, “It was really weird at first but then you feel, well… free. Not a care in the world.”

Karina eyed me. “Not with some guy’s ‘dick’ waggling at me all the time.”

“But it’s not like that,” said Yunjin. “Well, okay, maybe at first. But then it becomes normal and—”

Karina interrupted. “Sounds like you’ve been reading propaganda or something.”

“I don’t know,” Yunjin said. “I just know that we like it.”

“We? You mean it wasn’t just that weekend? You’re still walking around all naked even now?”

Yunjin blushed again. “Well… yeah. It’s just normal for us now. I guess we’ve kinda, like it, when we’re alone.”

“So, if I wasn’t here…” said Karina.

Yunjin shrugged, “…we’d be naked right now.”

Karina sat back in her chair and exhaled. “Holy shit. You two are crazy.”

The wine flowed as the conversation progressed. Karina was clearly intrigued, so I said, “It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you just try it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I bet you’d like that.”

“Well, not now!” I said, “No, I mean try going without clothes at home sometime. Like Yunjin said, it becomes normal pretty quickly. Even my ‘dick’ used to it.” I smiled.

If we hadn’t all been a little drunk, we wouldn’t have been having such a conversation. But we were all feeling a little loose.

When dinner was cleaned up, Yunjin and I joined Karina on the couch with a fresh bottle of wine. We chatted and joked, getting to know each other, even getting into arguments about some stuff. Like Yunjin, Karina was funny and smart on current events. She made some well-considered arguments during the conversations, always with a wry sense of humour. I liked her immediately.

Karina took a gulp then said, “So how would we do this?”

“Do what?” Yunjin asked.

“Get naked. You say it’s so great. I want to try.”

“What, now? You should just do it at home.”

“But that’s not the same, is it? I’m naked at home every time I take shower. Doing it around other people is the thing. And to you two it’s normal, so… why not?”

I was shocked, and Yunjin, looking at me, seemed equally surprised.

“Karina, are you serious?” asked Yunjin.

“We always share everything, right? And where else could I try such a thing with people I know and can trust? So, how do we do this?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know. If we were to do it, I guess we could turn off the lights and see if you were comfortable.” I said.

“Okay.”

Yunjin looked at me, unsure. “Karina, it’s not a big deal for us. But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh relax. I’m a big girl. And like you said, it’s only skin. Just turn off the lights.”

So we turned off every light in the apartment. Only the dim night-time glow of the city through the windows lit the room. Yunjin and I undressed. It felt so good to get everything off. I took the clothes into her bedroom.

When I returned, Yunjin hugged me, her naked body warm against mine.

“Think she’ll be okay?” she asked.

“Who’s speaking, please?” I joked, groping Yunjin’s face. “I’m more concerned I won’t get to see any of her at all. It’s so dark in here.”

We looked over and Karina was a silhouette at the windows, looking out. Then she took a breath and stripped, putting her clothes on a chair. She went back to the window, her slender body an enticing outline, and stood toying with a gold chain she had kept around her neck.

Yunjin and I sat on the couch and sipped our drinks. After a few minutes, Karina came over. There was barely enough light to see even shadows. I expected Karina to sit in one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, but she plopped down right beside me on the couch.

“So,” she said. “How’s that ‘dick’ of yours?”

We laughed.

“Quite a way to spend an evening,” Karina said. “Sitting here naked beside my best friend’s boyfriend. And Yunjin over there… a few months ago she was certain she’d be dragged to hell if she even looked at a guy. Now she’s sitting here, tits out, sipping wine like it’s nothing.”

“I’ve been pushing my comfort zone, like you always said I should. Anyway, now that’s we’re all, uh, comfortable, we do have a dessert prepared if you’re interested.” Yunjin said

“Oh yeah! The best part of every meal.” said Karina. “What’ve you got?”

“Chocolate fondue,” answered Yunjin.

“You two planned all of this, didn’t you? What’s next, a game of naked Twister?”

Once we finished laughing at that, Yunjin got the little fondue pot and tray of fruit from the kitchen, setting it on the coffee table. She lit the candle under the pot where it cast enough light for me to see Karina more clearly. Her breasts were beautiful: large for her slender body but perfectly shaped.

“I’ve never had this,” said Karina. “How do we do this?”

“It’s easy,” said Yunjin. “Take a fork, spear some fruit from the tray, dip it in the chocolate. We have pineapple, orange slices, strawberries, grapes and gum drops.”

“Gum drops are fruit?”

“They are when you’ve run out of fruit.”

“Here you go,” I said, handing Karina one of the long fondue forks. “Careful where you aim that thing.”

“Same to you, I’ve got bigger targets than you.” She glanced towards her boobs.

We started eating. I turned to Yunjin and fed her a chocolate covered strawberry. She fed me a grape in return. Karina dipped some pineapple into chocolate and moved it towards her mouth. I watched as a glob of chocolate dripped onto one breast.

Karina saw me looking at her boob. I glanced up at her, then licked my lips like a puppy, giving her a pleading, hopeful look.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she laughed. “Don’t get any ideas. Got a napkin?”

Yunjin had been watching. Suddenly, she leaned across me and licked the chocolate from her friend’s boob.

Karina recoiled, covering her breast. “Yunjin, What the hell?”

Yunjin giggled. “Sorry, we’re all out of napkins.”

“Oh my God. You really are a changed woman.”

Then Karina noticed I was looking at her expectantly.

“What?” she said.

“I get to do the next one.”

Karina leaned forward and speared a strawberry. She twirled it in the chocolate then taking very deliberate aim, held it high above my lap and let a dollop of warm chocolate fall right onto the tip of my cock.

We sat there for a moment, all of us looking down at my chocolate covered dick.

Then Yunjin looked at Karina and said, “Flip a coin?”

Both girls must’ve thought that was hilarious.

“See if I ever get naked with you two again,” I said. I started to get up to look for a napkin but Karina pulled me back down, grinning wickedly. She lowered her head then licked the chocolate right off the tip of my cock.

“Karina!” exclaimed Yunjin.

Karina sat back up and said, “A good guest always cleans up her own messes.” She looked at me to gauge my reaction.

Yunjin stuck two fingers into the chocolate and reached across me to smear it on her friend’s boobs. Karina did the same to Yunjin, and when she leaned across me, her large chocolate-covered tit slid across my chest and coated me. So I pulled her head to my chest and rubbed her face against it. Karina then sat up, grabbed my head with both hands and pulled me right into her soft messy boobs, rubbing my face all around.

When it was over, the three of us had chocolate all over our faces and chests. We sat back laughing.

Yunjin came to her senses first. “Okay, everybody stand up! I don’t want to get any on the couch.”

We stood up and Yunjin turned on a table lamp. While she leaned over to examine the couch, Karina and I stood facing each other. It was the first time we were in full light since taking off our clothes. We stood there, inspecting each other’s bodies. Even smeared with chocolate, Karina was stunning and judging from the trimmed patch between her legs. Karina also checked me out in detail, wearing a slightly hungry expression.

“Well, we’re lucky,” Yunjin said, “None got on the couch.” She stood up and Karina and I looked away from each other.

“A food fight, tsk tsk tsk, Totally childish, you guys” said Yunjin.

“You started it,” Karina said, “But it was fun! I haven’t had a food fight before, and… naked Infront of people”

“Yes, I can cross that off my bucket list,” I said.

“You had ‘naked chocolate food fight with two girls’ on your bucket list?” asked Karina.

“Well, yeah. Every guy does.”

Karina shook her head and shared a look with Yunjin. “Men,” they said, shaking their heads.

“Okay,” said Yunjin. ‘Let’s get cleaned up.’ When she saw Karina and I glance at each other’s chocolate covered bodies, she added “and no, no one is using their tongue.”

“Awww,” Karina and I said in unison.

“Come on, Karina. We’ll show you the shower.”

“Can you turn that light off?” Karina asked.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” Yunjin switched off the table lamp. Our night vision ruined, each of us were again only shadows.

“Thanks,” said Karina. “I’m still getting used to this nudity thing. It does help to keep the lights off.”

“Well,” I said, “we’re not going to find the bathroom without some light.” I lit a candle and held in front of me as I led the way to Yunjin’s bathroom.

Yunjin started the shower while I set the candle on the counter. While Yunjin adjusted the water, I noticed Karina looking at me again, a wistful expression on her face. She was fingering her gold chain.

“Okay, Karina. Go on in.” Yunjin said.

Karina got a mischievous look. “Let’s shower together.”

“Are you serious?”

“Come on! We’ve already seen each other. It’ll be quicker.” Karina grabbed my hand and tugged me into the shower behind her.

“Hang on,” Yunjin said from the other side of the shower curtain, “I have to get towels.”

Karina stood under the shower, water streaming down her lovely body in the dim candle light. She pulled me close and looked up at me with a serious expression.

“Hi,” she said. It was almost a whisper.

“Uh, hi, Karina,” I said, unsure of what she was doing.

Yunjin stepped in behind us.

“Come get wet you two,” said Karina.

Three people in the apartment’s little bathtub shower was a tight fit. It took some awkward maneuver for each of us to take turns under the water. I was standing under the spray, soaping Yunjin’s firm breasts as Karina soaped her back. I reached lower and ran my soapy fingers between Yunjin’s legs. She squirmed a little, and then forced my hand away, shaking her head as she glanced back towards Karina.

“We don’t want her to feel uncomfortable,” she whispered.

I spun us around until Yunjin was under the spray, my back to Karina. Yunjin soaped up my chest while Karina began cleaning my back. Yunjin briefly ran her hand over my dick, trying not to excite me. Behind, Karina pressed her breasts against my back and started kneading my ass.

“No fair, guys,” Karina complained. “No one is cleaning me.”

So I traded places with Karina, putting her between Yunjin and me. I looked towards Yunjin to see if it was okay, but she was busy washing her best friend’s back. Karina grabbed my hands and placed them right on her breasts. She gave a deep sigh then just stood there as I slid my soapy hands all over them, feeling their firmness, their weight, her warmth. Karina eyes never once left mine.

Behind her, Yunjin said, “Okay, I’m clean. Karina, I’ll get out so you can rinse off. She stepped out the curtain. Karina backed herself under the water, pulling me with her. Suddenly she reached up and pulled me into a deep kiss. Surprised, I hugged her but then pulled back. She looked at me, her eyes searching mine.

I glanced towards the closed shower curtain and whispered, “Karina, what are you doing?”

She took a deep breath and said “I… I don’t know.” She hugged me and rested her head against my chest. Then she released me, rinsed off quickly and stepped out.

I was more than half-hard now, so I turned the shower on full cold and willed my dick to relax. When I stepped out, both girls were almost dry. Yunjin handed me a towel. She looked down and noticed that I was still a little excited. Again, she shook her head in warning, indicating Karina behind her who was bending over toweling off her hair.

Back in the living room, we sat and drank more wine to the light of a candle. Instead of sitting beside me on the couch, this time Karina chose to sit in the chair opposite us. Was she upset by our experience in the shower? I couldn’t tell.

“So this is what two do when you’re together,” said Karina.

“Well, usually by this time we’re in bed.” Yunjin said, then she covered her mouth when she realized what she had said.

“Oops. Sorry.”

Karina shook her head. “It’s so amazing to hear you talk like that, Yunjin. It’s amazing you’re actually… you know,”

Yunjin snorted. “What?”

“Well, you didn’t like it when I said you were fucking each other’s brains out.”

Yunjin shook her head in disapproval.

“See? Anyway, I’m happy for you. You’ve held yourself back way too long.”

“Thanks, Karina. I’m getting used to it. It’s all been pretty wonderful.”

“So you’ve been telling me — In great detail.”

“Yunjin, you don’t actually have to tell Karina everything, you know. I’d like to think we maybe have a few secrets.” I said.

“Oh we do, I still haven’t told her you started to… oh, never mind.”

“Started to…?” Karina asked.

Yunjin looked down sheepishly and said, “Uh, you know. Use his mouth. Down there.”

“Holy shit, Yunjin, Some things you can keep private, you know.” I said.

“Well, let’s see. You run around naked every chance you get; she likes giving you blowjobs because of how cute you look when you come. Doggy style is your favorite position, girl on top is hers, but she won’t do anal. And now you’re eating her out. Did I miss anything?” Karina said.

Yunjin’s mouth hung open, mortified.

“You like it?” Karina asked.

“What?”

“When he uses his mouth — Down there.”

“Uh, well. It’s actually pretty fantastic. He makes me come every time.”

Karina looked surprised. “Bullshit. Not every time.”

“Well, yes. So far.”

Karina sighed. “Wow. No guy has ever made me come.”

Yunjin exclaimed “But you’ve been with lots of guys.”

Karina wrinkled her nose. “Not ‘lots’. But most have been too interested in getting themselves off to bother much with me.”

“But fucking, er, I mean…”

“That never does it for me.”

“Oh it does for me.” said Yunjin. “Not every time, of course, but often enough.”

“But him eating you out does every time? So come on, tell me. What does he do, exactly? Guys have done that to me and it’s just been kind of… meh.”

“Uh, ladies, come on now…”

Ignoring me, Yunjin said, “Well, I don’t really know. It’s not like I take notes. He just… does things. Lots of things. And then I’m gone.”

Karina turned to me, “So? What’s the secret? How can you make her come every time?”

I sighed. “Clearly there aren’t going to be any secrets with you two. So, okay. How can I explain something like that? I guess I just try to figure out what she likes best. Then I tease a little… you know, get her close, make her want it, take my time.”

“And you like doing it?”

“Oh yeah.” I looked at Yunjin. “I could come just watching Yunjin when she gets excited.”

Yunjin kissed me on the cheek, eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

Yunjin thought for a moment. She leaned against me then whispered, “We could show her, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Show her. You can’t tell her what you do. So maybe can she just… see for herself?”

“Okay, no more wine for you, Yunjin.”

“What? She’s already seen us naked, and we’ve already done some crazy things tonight. She’s my best friend.” She turned to Karina, “We could show you, then maybe you could teach the next guy you’re with.”

Karina sat, mouth half open. But clearly she was interested. She looked at me and blinked. “Uh, sure. So, uh, you mean make a video or something?”

I looked at Yunjin. She was looking at me with excited eyes.

“No,” she said. “Who would hold the camera? I mean, he could just do it with me and you could, uh, you know… watch?”

“Yunjin,” I said, “I think you might just want to show off for your friend. Or you’ve discovered a voyeuristic side. Let’s not do anything you’ll regret later.”

“It’s just us here,” she said. She pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “and I’m so horny. So, either we kick Karina out right now, or in three seconds she’s going to watch me fuck you right on this couch.”

I whispered back, “But that’s not what you want her to see, is it?” Yunjin just looked at me, breathing with excitement.

I sighed, then stood and pulled Yunjin to her feet. “Karina, we’re going to the bedroom. I think Yunjin wants you to follow.”

“And you?” said Karina. “Would you be okay with that?”

“I don’t even know. It’s not like we’ve ever done anything even remotely like this. But I’ll do anything for Yunjin if it makes her happy, and I guess it is just us after all. Guess we’ll just have to see.”

I led Yunjin down the dark hallway into her bedroom, leaving the door wide. We lit the candles we always kept in her room and stripped the covers off the bed. I hugged and kissed her deeply. She was breathing heavily and looking at me with longing.

Yunjin lay on the bed and spread her knees. I got on top of her and we embraced and kissed. When I reached down, I discovered she was already completely wet. She ran her hand lovingly over my cheek.

“Do it. Please. Eat me. Make me cum.”

I slid down between her legs. Yunjin’s delightful little pussy was glistening in the candlelight, Then I felt the bed shift and beautiful, naked Karina was right beside me. I was so enraptured with Yunjin I’d forgotten she was still with us. Karina looked up at Yunjin, and then looked at me.

Her tongue wet her lips. “Show me,” she whispered.

I reached out with two fingers and stroked down along the mound of Yunjin’s clit. Yunjin moaned and pushed her hips up off the bed. I stroked her with my thumb then lightly licked her clit with just the tip of my tongue. As always, Yunjin responded so beautifully, gasping, writhing, and trying to push my face into her as I teased, licked and massaged her clit. I kept at her for several minutes, playing, doing things I knew she loved, experimenting with other things to see how she would react, bringing her to the edge and trying to keep her there without going over.

Karina had her head propped on one elbow, watching me and occasionally looking up at Yunjin squirming and panting. When I paused to keep her from going over, Yunjin looked down and reached for Karina.

“It’s so good,” she breathed, squeezing her friend’s hand.

I went back to her. This time I inserted two fingers into her little opening and started finger fucking her as I gently sucked and tongued her clit. When I raked my thumb up along her asshole, Yunjin arched her back as her tunnel started squeezing my fingers rhythmically in orgasm.

“Huuuuh,” she groaned, mashing my head to her. She never let go of her friend’s hand while her breath caught, head flung back and body rigid in orgasm. I watched, enraptured, almost coming myself seeing my wonderful girl in such bliss.

When Yunjin regained her senses, she looked down and saw Karina and me looking back at her. She turned her head and covered her eyes in embarrassment.

“Oh God,” she said. “Don’t look at me.”

“That was beautiful,” said Karina, quietly. She squeezed Yunjin’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

At this point I was hard and in need of relief. I didn’t care if her friend was there—I needed to fuck my Yunjin.

I slid up on top of her, my dick easily finding her opening by itself, and pushed into her warmth. Yunjin wrapped an arm around me, trapped me with her legs and welcomed me. I rutted and pushed as she clung, urging me on, her tight tunnel further fueling my hunger. I pulled her legs up, placing her knees against her ears and started fucking her even deeper. There was no thought or reason then, just a blind need to possess and satisfy my lust.

Yunjin gasped, moaned, and pushed her hips up against mine, urging me on. We fucked like bunny in heat, so in love, so in lust. Then finally, I pushed into her as deep as I could and with a growl, flooded her womb with cum, blast after blast. Yunjin ground against me and moaned, eagerly accepting all I could give her.

I collapsed onto her and tried to regain my senses. We kissed and hugged, laughing, caressing, staring into each other’s eyes.

Finally, I slipped out of her and rolled off onto my back, right onto Yunjin and Karina’s outstretched arms. The two had held hands the entire time I was fucking Yunjin.

I lifted and they pulled their arms out from under me. I glanced over at Karina. She looked happy, and… hungry. It was my turn to feel embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I said. “Letting you see that wasn’t part of the deal.”

Karina said nothing. She just caressed my cheek and pressed her body against mine as she reached an arm across and hugged Yunjin and me.

Yunjin lifted her head. Exhausted, she asked, “So, did you see?”

“I saw. oh, did I ever see. It’s like some porn movie with you guys.” She paused. “Actually, it’s nothing like porn. You’re so… loving. Tender. Except for that last part. I thought he was going to break you in half.”

The three of us lay in silence as the candles cast wavering shadows around the room. Karina clung to my side, arm across my chest, head on my shoulder, while absently pushing her hips against my leg. Yunjin cuddled against my other side.

Karina started to get up. “I’ll leave you love birds alone now.”

Yunjin reached over to grasp her arm. “Stay.”

“It’s okay, Yunjin. You guys need your alone time. Besides, if I don’t get out of here right now, I’m going to jump your boyfriend.”

Yunjin gave her friend a sympathetic look then pulled my face to hers. She studied my face for a moment then whispered, “Do it to her.”

“What?” I whispered back. “Fuck your friend?”

“Lick her. She said no guy has ever made her come. You could do it… I know you could. And I know you like her.”

Yunjin seemed serious, but I said, “That’s going way too far.”

“Why? She likes you too, you know. A lot. I see it. But it’s okay. She’s my best friend.”

I still couldn’t tell if Yunjin really meant what she was saying. So I decided to test her.

I turned to face Karina. Then I looked down at her pussy, back up to her face and licked my lips, giving her a pleading, hopeful look like a puppy who’d eyed a forbidden meal.

Karina chucked. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she laughed. Then, “No way. You can’t be serious.” She looked past me to Yunjin.

Yunjin was still holding Karina’s arm. “It’s okay,” she said.

“Let him really show you. Make you come.”

Karina looked back to me and saw my expression. I wanted to… I really am, especially now that it was clear that Yunjin was okay with it.

I stroked Karina’s cheek lovingly. She blinked, and then closed her eyes, pushing her face against my hand. After a long pause, she took a breath and lay back on the bed, pushing my head down.

“Go. Do it. But it won’t work.”

I could not believe what was happening. I slid down and positioned myself between Karina’s legs but it felt surreal. I fully expected Karina or Yunjin to change their minds at any moment. But Yunjin propped herself up to watch, her excitement visible, then nodded encouragement.

Karina was looking down at me too, mouth half-open, eyes filled with anticipation. I decided then I would try to make her come harder than she had ever come in her life.

Karina’s pussy was exquisite, a work of art. From her trimmed patch of hair to her shape, so different from Yunjin. It was a beautiful sight, and the scent of her arousal excited me even more.

I started gently with just fingers and the palm of my hand, teasing, massaging, exploring. Karina gave little gasps and moans, her hips rising and falling.

Karina sighed, “Okay. Okay. That’s… nice. Oh… oh shit. Good. That’s… ohmygod, yes do that. That’s… hunngh…” She stroked my hair and tilted her hips to give me better access as her ability to speak faded.

I started exploring and playing with determination, trying different things, trying to get a sense of what she liked best. But everything seemed to drive Karina on. She was gasping and puffing and groaning, trying to mash my face into her. I kept at her, teasing at first, then diving in insistently.

Glancing up, I saw and Yunjin right beside her, watching her friend’s face and holding her hand while Karina, eyes closed, grimaced, gasped, sighed and moaned.

I had always been able to read Yunjin’s reactions well, but Karina was like unexplored territory. I played and teased, trying things I knew Yunjin loved, trying other things just to see Karina’s reactions. When I slid two fingers inside her and curled my fingers to massage her g-spot, within minutes Karina surprised me when she froze, lifting her hips. She came with a strangled grunt, her inner walls squeezing rhythmically as she pushed my face hard into her with one hand and gripped Yunjin’s with the other. Her breathing paused as her head flung back and she writhed and arched.

I held on until Karina let out an explosive breath and her body grew limp.

When I extracted my face from between her thighs and looked up, Karina and Yunjin were looking at me — Yunjin bright-eyed and proud, Karina looking like she had run a marathon. What a rewarding sight. I lay my head on Karina’s toned tummy, staring up as her breathing was back to normal.

Then I slide lower to start on her again. Karina gasped when I licked her pussy to her clit then worked her to orgasm twice more in rapid succession. Finally, she pushed me away.

“Enough. Oh my god, stop. You’re going to kill me.”

I wiped my mouth and slid up between the two girls.

Yunjin was beaming. “That was amazing,” she said.

Karina was panting, her skin flushed and her eyes glassy. One hand toyed absently with a breast. I was rock hard, of course, and Yunjin noticed my distress. But when I indicated that I wanted to fuck her again, Yunjin pushed me towards her friend.

“Go ahead,” she whispered. “She needs that too.”

I was beyond arguing the merits of what we were doing. I rolled over onto Karina’s side.

She opened her eyes and looked at me quizzically.

“Hi,” I said. “So, was that a little better than doing it yourself?”

Karina said nothing. She just grabbed my head and kissed me. I kissed her back, stroking her hair, her face, her tits, and then her pussy lips. While we kissed, I worked myself halfway on top of her. Karina then opened her legs, I settled between them, kissing and stroking her the entire time.

Despite having come in Yunjin not long ago, I was beyond hard. I was hesitant to fuck Karina but then I felt Yunjin’s hand grasp my cock and slide me up and down her best friend’s slit then position me at Karina entrance.

Karina pushed my head away from hers and said, “Uh hey, you guys? Listen…”

Yunjin whispered in my ear, “Push.”

“Huuuhh…” Karina arched her back and spread her legs, taking me halfway inside her. I withdrew, then on the next stroke seated myself in her all the way. Karina pushed back on my chest, her mouth open and eyes wide, gurgling incoherently. I pulled out then pushed myself into her again.

“Uuuh! God!” Karina breathed. She looked at me in wide-eyed wonder then wrapped her arms around my neck. Her eyes narrowed into a needful expression then she lay back and whispered, “Oh, fuck it. Fuck me. Just… fuck me.”

Karina was tighter than Yunjin, and felt different in many other little ways. Her pussy resisted more each time I pushed in, and clung tighter when withdrew. I buried myself in her all the way and held myself there, Karina squeezed her inner muscles like she wanted to trap my cock there, nice and nestled in her depths. Then she pushed her hips back, drawing me deeper into her.

I fucked her urgently, insistently, hungrily. I tried to control the animal part of my brain, wanting it to last. That such a beautiful, delightful woman was letting me fuck her was mind-blowing. That she was Yunjin’s best friend, and I was fucking her with Yunjin’s permission was beyond incredible.

We kept at it, hard and soft, gently fornicating then giving into primal desire and rutting like starved beasts. We kissed, we embraced, we looked into each other’s eyes. Was Yunjin jealous? No. She held Karina’s hand throughout, sometimes stroking my cheek or back as I fucked her best friend. I let go of worry and focused completely on Karina’s.

Soon Karina’s movements became more desperate. I fucked her steadily, sometimes pulling out completely then pushing back and forth just inside her opening before sliding in deep. Then Karina inhaled a short gasp, wriggled against me hard and froze, clamping onto my dick as she came once more. I rammed into her once, twice, then was consumed by an eye-rolling, ball-draining orgasm, flooding the gorgeous, needful woman with everything I had left.

I stayed on top of Karina, weakened by the intensity of my orgasm, stroking her face and hair, giving her light kisses as we recovered. Then I slid over onto the bed between the girls, exhausted.

Yunjin snuggled to my side and kissed my cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “She really needed that.”

We rested for a while then I needed to get up to get us all water and find the bathroom. When I slid off the bed and got to my feet, I was treated to a memorable sight: my Yunjin and her very best friend flat on their backs, legs spread slightly, their pussies both leaking my cum.

—

During the night I woke when Yunjin climbed on top of me. The candles must have burned down — it was completely dark. I was already rock hard. My sly girl had to have been playing with me while I slept. She lined me up with her opening and slid down carefully until she fully impaled herself on my cock. She felt tighter than usual and was very wet. Yunjin let out a heavy moan of satisfaction and started riding me — her favorite position. I reached up to massage her breasts as she used me for her pleasure. They were warm, firm and way, way too large. It wasn’t Yunjin. It was Karina.

Karina slid her herself up and down, back and forth, milking my cock, taking her time. I massaged her incredible breasts, resigned to let her do what she needed. In the utter darkness, it was impossible to tell how long we went at it, but near the end I grabbed her waist and rolled Karina onto her back to take her hard. She held me tight, gasping and rutting as I fucked her until once again, I pumped her full of cum. We kissed tenderly until exhaustion overtook me.

I rolled off Karina and lay between the two girls. I held Karina’s hand and reached over to rest my other hand on Yunjin’s sleeping form. In the morning we would need to come to terms with what we had done. But there in the middle of the night, the three of us lay together as friends and lovers and, for that moment at least, we were content.

“Hon, wake up. Karina’s gone.”

Yunjin awoke and stretched, the bed sheet falling to expose her lovely breast.

“Uh? Gone? Where’d she go?”

“She was gone when I woke up.”

Yunjin yawned, trying to clear her head. Then she covered her eyes and groaned.

“Oh no. What did we do?”

I touched her arm. “We got a little carried away.”

“I’ll say. Letting you sleep with my best friend, letting her watch us… what were we thinking?”

Yunjin groaned again. “And she left? That’s bad. She’s probably so embarrassed.”

“Somehow I don’t think Karina gets embarrassed that easily.”

“Oh, you don’t know her. We’ve been friends forever. She’s outgoing, but she’s no slut.”

“I didn’t mean she was. We all just got… carried away, like you said. So should we talk to her?”

“It’s better if I talk to her first. Alone.”

“If you say so, but Yunjin, how are you feeling about it?”

Yunjin stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I should be horrified, right? But I think I’m okay. I never thought we’d ever do anything like that, but it went so naturally. It seemed right.”

“I thought you’d need a lot more time to think about what we did.”

“I thought about it last night… after you and Karina fucked the second time.”

“You were awake? Uh, I was going to tell you about that…”

“I know. You screwed her a second time.”

“Actually, it was more like she screwed me. When I woke up Karina was already on top of me.”

“And I bet you fought really hard to push her off too,” said Yunjin, nudging me.

“I… at first I thought it was you! Honestly. I couldn’t see anything, and you wake me up like that often enough.”

“You thought it was me? Oh, that’s so sweet! But then you realized it was Karina and…”

“…and I couldn’t stop her. I… to be honest, didn’t really want to, either. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I mean, I practically pushed you on her the first time. I think that means you had permission last night.”

“So you just lay there and let us do it?”

“Uh huh. Pretty hard to sleep with you two shaking the bed grunting, moaning. And well… it turned me on.”

“Oh, did it?”

Yunjin blushed. “Yeah. Don’t know why, but the thought of you making Karina feel as good as you make me feel… it’s exciting. And last night was special. She hadn’t been with anyone for so long. And she has a little crush on you, you know. I’m glad we made her happy.”

“Happy is not exactly the word I’d use. So, what does this mean?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’re okay with me sleeping with other women now? I can hit the bars and sleep with anyone I want?”

Yunjin wrinkled her nose. “Gross! No, of course not.”

“Then what, Yunjin?”

She considered. “Well, Karina’s my best friend. You’re my boyfriend. Last night was just between us.”

“So, if I slept with anyone else…”

“I’d cut your dicks off and leave you to bleed out...”

“Yunjin!”

“I’m not sharing you with just anyone. You’re the only good guy I’ve ever found. But Karina… well, we’ve always told each other everything, shared everything.” She paused. “Last night we just went too far. But it’s not like it will ever happen again. She just needed some attention.”

“I think I get it,” I said. “But look, I’ve got this good friend who’s always wanted to screw you…”

Yunjin gasped. “I’m not sleeping with any of your friends!”

“Good. And I don’t want you to. So we’re clear: you were okay ‘sharing’ me with your best friend, but I’m not okay sharing you at all. You’re mine, okay?”

“Okay,” said Yunjin, and kissed me. “I want to be yours. I don’t need anyone else. Besides, it was just one night. Oh! I’d better call her.”

Yunjin found her phone. “She’s not answering. And she’s offline. Oh! We slept in. I’ll be late for yoga. I’ll talk to Karina there.”

“You never told me Karina was in your yoga class.”

“It took a lot of persuading, but I got her to sign up. Look, why don’t you go home? Clean up, get a change of clothes. Can you come back later for dinner?”

I hugged her. “Of course. It’s Saturday. Where else would I be but with you?”

—

As I walked to my apartment building, my thoughts were on Karina. The first time I saw her, I wanted her, but she had that effect on everyone; a beauty with almost supermodel looks. Someone like her could never be interested in an ordinary guy like me. My quiet world would bore her to death.

How wrong I was. Karina admitted she would have given me a chance; Even I could hardly believe it. She seemed to have developed a thing for me since Yunjin had been telling her everything we did. Images from last night filled my head: Karina getting naked with us, showering with us, watching me with Yunjin, letting me eat her and fuck her… it was all I could think about.

When I walked into the lobby of my apartment, Karina was waiting.

“Uh, hi, What’s up? How did you know where I live?”

“Yunjin’s pointed out your building to me once. And your name’s on the directory. Can we talk?”

We rode the elevator in silence. Karina avoided my eyes.

“Apologize for the mess,” I said, Letting her inside.

“Guys are all alike. You all need a maid. Or a mother.”

“Karina, have you talked to Yunjin? You just disappeared this morning. She’s worried. She was going to meet you at yoga.”

“Oh, yoga. I forgot. Why do I let her talk me into those things?” Karina looked at her phone. “Yeah, she’s left, like, a million messages.” She started sifting through the texts and voice mail.

“Look, call her. She’s probably not at her class yet. I need to grab a shower… I still haven’t cleaned up from last night. Make yourself at home.”

Karina nodded as she thumbed Yunjin’s number.

—

In the shower, I tried to think. What was Karina doing here? Why did she just leave Yunjin’s place without a goodbye? While I was deep in thought, The shower curtain opened and a very naked Karina stepped inside.

“Karina! What the hell?”

She put her arms around me. “Yunjin didn’t answer. I haven’t had time to clean up either. Wash my back?” She smiled mischievously.

Last night, the shower with Yunjin and Karina was playful and erotic. This time it was just awkward. I soaped her up, unsure and hesitant. I admired every inch of her body as she closed her eyes to rinse.

Karina cleaned me and spent a few moments fondling me with soapy hands while she watched my face. My body couldn’t react. It felt… wrong.

We dried off, but when I went to find clothes, Karina stopped me.

“Can we just stay naked for now? I really liked it last night, Like you said, it makes being open a lot easier, somehow.”

“Uh, sure, Karina. You know I’m comfortable with it. If you are.”

Naked, she led me back to the living room and We sat on the couch.

“So, anyway, about last night…”

I interrupted. “Yunjin said says she’s fine with everything that happened.”

“Are you sure? I was certain she’d gonna need a therapy.”

“Yeah, I was worried too. But she doesn’t freak out about sex anymore. She said last night was a special thing, just between the three of us.”

“She’s come a long way. You really saved her, you know.”

“Yunjin saved herself. I just let her be who she needed to be, without judgment. And maybe encouraged her a little.”

Karina hugged me and looked into my eyes. Her expression was strange. Scared. To break the awkwardness, I asked, “So how do you feel about last nights? Don’t tell me you’ve never done a threesome before.”

“No, that was a first for me.”

“Why did you leave?”

Karina was silent, “When I woke up you two were all cuddled up together. I felt awkward, and I wasn’t sure whether Yunjin would freak out. So, I slipped out.” She said.

“So, no regrets?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe.” She paused. “I’m not on the pill.”

“What? Why don’t you tell me that?”

“I haven’t had a steady guy for a while. So I stopped taking it. It gives me trouble.”

“But last night… I came in you. Twice!”

“I know! I tried to say something… tried to stop you, but then you were in me and it had been so long. You were so good, and it was so hot… doing it with Yunjin like that. With her boyfriend. I planned to just let you do it for a while then get you to pull out, but when we really got going, well, I wasn’t exactly thinking. Later, I woke up and you were all naked and warm beside me and… well, you know. I don’t think I was even fully awake that second time.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You should have said something. I could have stopped. But, I wasn’t thinking clearly either. When you let me… well, it was a dream come true.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve been fantasized about you. But last night, I never asked you if it was okay… you know… to come in you. I should have made sure. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry.”

Karina rested her head against my shoulder.

“Anyway, shouldn’t we find a drugstore?”

“That Plan B or whatever?” said Karina. “That’s the thing. I can’t. I took it once, and it made me sick as hell. The doctor said that might be why I always had such trouble with the pill. The same stuff is in both, only more.”

“Oh. Well, it’s probably okay. When Yunjin and I did it when we were camping it turned out okay. It was just the right time in her cycle. We got lucky.”

We used my phone to find an ovulation calculator and entered Karina’s details.

“Oh, damn it, If this is right, I’m ovulating today. The worst possible time. Guess that’s why I was so horny, huh?”

“It’ll be all right.” I said, unsure what to say.

“Bullshit! I can’t have a kid. I can barely take care of myself. And my job…”

“It was both our fault. You’re not alone. If it happens, and whatever you decide, Karina, I’m with you, okay?”

She looked at me with derision. “You’re going to ‘do the honourable thing’? A woman can take care of herself, you know.”

“Of course. I just, I mean, I’m not going to take off on you. I’ll do everything I can.” I smiled, “You know… paint the baby’s room, fetch you pickles and ice cream, feed you ice chips during the delivery…”

Karina gasped and shoved me away but she smiled a little.

“You total asshole! That’s not funny!”

“I’m serious, though. I’m with you through this. We have to tell Yunjin.”

“No way. If she finds out I fucked you without protection, she’ll kill me then she’ll kills herself. You know how she is. She doesn’t need to worry along with us.”

“It’s not right to keep this from her. But yeah… it would completely stress her out. I guess we can wait until, we’re sure.”

Karina hugged me for a long time. She pulled back to look at me with damp eyes. “It would be better if you were an asshole, you know. Then I could get mad. I meet the only good guy in the entire city, and I give him away to Yunjin.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but let’s be real. I’m nothing much. I’m not rich, and only slightly handsome…”

Karina made a face.

“…so what’s the big deal? You’re gorgeous. You can have any guy you want.”

“Yeah, and you know how well that’s worked out for me. Yunjin told me everything you’ve done for her. I mean, she’s so happy now that she’s with you! It’s hard not to be jealous.” Karina leaned in and kissed me. “You transformed her, you know. Maybe you could transform me.”

“If you’re pregnant, you’ll be transformed all right.”

Karina pulled me close, her warm breasts pressing into me. “So, you fantasized about me, huh?”

“Uh, of course, Karina. You’re beautiful. Fun. A little wild. You’re completely sexy. You know that.”

“I really liked last night, you know. Being with you. And I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life. Or so many times.”

Karina guided my hand to her breast and kissed me. Soon we were running our hands over each other, and she pulled me down until I was lying on her on the couch. She spread her legs and I could feel her wet folds against my dick.

“Fuck me again,” she said, an eager, hopeful look in her eyes.

“Fuck me hard. Just don’t cum in me, okay?”

She was so brazen, so sexy. My heart was pounding at the thought of taking her again. Yunjin would be disappointed she wasn’t there to watch us, I thought. It got her so hot the previous night. Maybe I should call her so she can come over.

Karina reached down to guide my cock, but I was soft. She stroked it a few times and rubbed my cock along her wet slit, but there was no response. Even I couldn’t believe it. Karina, alone in my apartment, eager for me to fuck her and I wasn’t hard?

“Did we wear you out last night?” Karina asked with a wry smile

I rolled off her. “No. Just give me a minute.”

Karina scooted down and began to lick my cock, all around the head and occasionally sucking into her mouth, all while keeping an eye contact. She alternated between stroking my soft member, licking the head then caressing my balls.

That should have been more than enough. The sight of her working away, looking up with that mischievous expression, eager to get me hard should have caused a powerful reaction. Instead — nothing.

It occurred to me then, that maybe, Yunjin wouldn’t be okay with what we were doing right now. I stroked Karina’s head and pushed her off me.

“Karina, Let’s just stop this.”

Frustrated, she went back to working on my cock. She was skilled and knew all the tricks that would normally get any man hard in minutes, but it wasn’t working.

She stopped and rested her head on my thigh.

“Didn’t that feel good?”

“It felt wonderful, but I don’t know… this doesn’t seem right.”

Karina was quiet for a moment.

“Were you thinking of Yunjin just now?”

“Well, sure. Not just now, I always think of Yunjin.”

Karina considered that. “Always think of her, huh?”

We sat up.

“I wonder,” she said, idly reaching over to fondle me. “Did you ever consider you’re in love?”

“Huh? I like you, Karina, but I don’t know you well enough for that.”

“Oh, for f…” She whacked my head. “Guys are so clueless. Not with me! With Yunjin.”

“What? I mean, Yunjin’s wonderful, but it’s way too soon for anything like that… isn’t it?”

“Is it? I’ve seen how you two are together. Picture this: what if Yunjin was here right now, beside us like last night, naked, her hand guiding you into me, asking you to fuck me, and holding my hand while she watched us fuck each other like animals?”

More images from last night returned. It was so exciting having Yunjin watch, not just accepting me fucking her best friend, but actively encouraging us. I started getting hard.

Karina noticed. “Ah… someone likes having threesomes with his girlfriend. So Naughty! So if she was here, you’d be fine. I think even if you just had her permission to be with me, you’d be okay. But you can’t go behind her back, can you? Because it might hurt her. And you can’t hurt someone you love.”

I thought about that. It was all new. I didn’t know the first thing about it, Love.

“We were so good together last night. We had a real connection, didn’t we? I came here thinking that maybe you might like to be with me instead of Yunjin. Especially if… you know, you’ve knocked me up.”

“Uh…”

Karina sighed. “I guess I was only thinking about myself again. I should have seen it… it’s obvious now.” She forced a smile. ‘You’re right. We can’t be doing this. I’m sorry for tempting you.’ She took a breath and stood. “I’d better get home. And you, big guy, need to get back to Yunjin. And tell her you love her. Because I’m pretty sure you do.”

As I sat there and thought for a while, Karina dressed. She kissed my cheek and let herself out.

—

It was getting dark when I returned to Yunjin’s apartment.

“Why are you dressed?” I said when I walked in.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I invited Karina over to eat with us again. I think we all should talk together.”

“Oh, so you… talked to her? What did she say?”

“Not much. She wasn’t at yoga, but I got hold of her later. She says she’s fine with what we did… she was more worried about me. But something’s wrong. I could hear it.”

So Karina had not told Yunjin about our afternoon together, or about her possibly being pregnant. I decided that even if Karina didn’t want to, we had to tell Yunjin.

When Karina arrived, she said, “What’s this? You’re not running around naked?”

“We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Karina grimaced. “Guys, it’s your place. You kids like prancing around in the buff, go ahead… it’s not like I didn’t see it all last night.”

“You sure?”

“Go ahead, guys. Besides, I’ve started to enjoy it.”

I looked at Yunjin and she shrugged, so I moved behind her. Kissing her neck, I pulled off her top, then kissed and nibbled her exposed shoulders. I held her breasts when I released her bra. Freeing her from her jeans, I stroked her tummy and squeezed her ass, then just wrapped my arms around her from behind, enjoying the feel of her. When it was her turn, Yunjin gave me a similar treatment undressing me.

When we were both naked, we glanced at Karina. She had a wistful expression.

“Oh wow, does he always undress you like that?” she said.

Yunjin stroked my cheek. “Most of the time. Sometimes I get dressed just so he can undress me again.”

“You… uh, is it all right if I get naked too?”

“If you’re okay with it, go ahead,” said Yunjin.

“Can… can he do it?”

I looked at Yunjin. She smirked and nodded.

I stepped behind Karina and began stripping her, kissing her shoulders and neck, slowly removing one thing at a time. When I crouched to lower her pants, I kissed her flat tummy that, for all we knew, held the beginnings of our child. The thought was frightening but exciting too.

When I stood up, Karina hugged me, resting her head on me. Her warm body and breasts caused me to stir.

We dimmed the lights and lit candles to make Karina more comfortable, and we sat, ate and chatted.

Karina seemed nervous, but I felt sick. I couldn’t stand it. Looking over at Karina I said “Yunjin, there might be a problem about last night…”

I told her about Karina’s visit that afternoon and the chance she might be pregnant. Yunjin listened in stony silence. When I finished, Yunjin fixed Karina with a cold stare.

“You let him fuck you without protection. Then went to see him. Behind my back. And tried to fuck him again?”

Karina looked stricken. “It wasn’t exactly like that… I wasn’t…” She trailed off, searching for a response.

The room seemed chilly as Yunjin glowered at her friend.

Karina said, “It was so good last night. There was a spark there… with him. I’m sure there was. I thought… look, I don’t know. When there’s magic with a guy, I go after him. You know me. I was excited. I didn’t even think about you. It was selfish, I know.”

Yunjin turned her attention to me. Her mouth was tight.

“And you? What the hell were you thinking?

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess I wasn’t. But we didn’t do anything.”

“You sure tried, said Yunjin. She paused, and then stood up, gathered my clothes and Karina’s into her arms in one big bundle, opened her apartment door and tossed it all into the hallway.

“Get out,” she said calmly.

“Yunjin, let’s talk about…”

“Both of you get the fuck out! NOW!”

Karina started crying and ran out to gather her clothes. Yunjin shoved me outside and slammed the door, bolting it behind us.

Karina knocked and tried the doorknob. “Yunjin! Come on!”

From behind the door, Yunjin yell, “Go away! Go fuck your new boyfriend.”

Karina and I scrambled to pull on our clothes. Luckily, none of Yunjin’s neighbors were around. I heard Yunjin crying and stomp to her bedroom.

We knocked and pleaded, but Yunjin ignored us.

Karina dried her eyes. “So, ‘new boyfriend’… your place or mine?”

We were devastated, we had hurt Yunjin. We needed a plan. My apartment was close, so we went there to think what to do. When I got in the door, I automatically stripped off my clothes, before it occurred to me to leave them on. Karina hesitated then stripped too. Oh well.

We sat beside each other, staring at the floor.

“I always fuck things up,” she sniffled. “What are we going to do?”

We talked, thinking how to apologize, how to undo the damage and regain Yunjin’s trust. I began to understand why threesomes in a serious relationship rarely worked.

Karina cried a little more so I held her. Her warm breasts against me felt wonderful as always.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

I looked at her, incredulous. “You have got to be kidding.”

“Just to cuddle! That’s all. I don’t want to be alone after all this. Tomorrow we can go see Yunjin and patch things up.”

Sleeping with Karina in my own bed sounded wonderful. It also sounded like another betrayal. I doubted we could stop at cuddling. Before I could refuse, there was tapping at my door. Yunjin let herself in with the key I had given her weeks before.

“Returned to the scene of the crime, huh?” Yunjin said when she saw us together on the couch.

I went to her. “How’d you know we’d be here?”

“I know you. And I know Karina. Of course you’d go to your place to talk.”

“And that’s all we were doing, Yunjin.”

“I know. Is it okay if I join you?”

Yunjin stripped off her clothes and pulled us into a three-way hug.

“I’m sorry I blew up, guys,” she said. “That was childish.”

Karina’s eyes were damp. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to…”

Yunjin shushed her and turned to me. “Can I borrow your bedroom? I need to yell at Karina in private for a while.”

“This involves me too, Yunjin.”

“I don’t blame you… as much. Just wait here, okay?”

Yunjin pulled Karina down the hall to my bedroom and closed the door. I figured it was best for them to have it out in private. They had been friends a long time, and I had confidence in Yunjin. Her parents had poisonous beliefs about sex, but to their credit, they also believed in forgiveness and practiced it. Yunjin had inherited that trait.

I listened to Yunjin yell at Karina from behind the bedroom door. That was followed by mutual sobs and then low murmurs. Finally, I heard a few giggles.

When all was quiet, I knocked on the door.

Yunjin stepped out. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “She’ll be okay.” Karina sat on the edge of the bed, huddled with arms crossed over her knees.

Yunjin and I returned to the living room.

“She’s okay?” I asked. “How are you, Yunjin?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Am I okay, she might have let my boyfriend impregnate her? No, I’m still a little pissed off about that. And you! What the hell were you thinking this afternoon?”

“Yeah, I feel terrible. At first, I was excited… like a continuation of last night. I thought how much you’d want to watch us, then it registered we shouldn’t have been doing anything without you. I’m sorry.”

Yunjin shook her head. “Guys… always thinking with their little head first.” She looked at me slyly and then said, “She told me you couldn’t get it up for her.”

“Oh, great,” I groaned.

“…because you were worried I’d be hurt.” She pecked my cheek. “Still, don’t ever do that again.”

I nodded and hugged her tight. Yunjin was a wonder. A weaker woman would have thrown me and Karina out and never talked to us again.

“So, are you and Karina okay now?”

“I’m not happy, but I can forgive her.”

“Seriously?”

She sighed. “Well, we can’t blame her for last night, can we? I mean, I urged you on her. Even put your dick inside her. I was so excited, I didn’t even ask if it was okay. She should have stopped us, but I remember the first time we went camping. We were just as weak then as she was last night.”

I forced a smile.

Yunjin took my hand. “Listen… Karina’s parent split up when she was little. It was ugly, and life for her was… chaotic… for a long time. Her mom moved a lot. Lots of money problems. I think that’s part of why she keeps running off with rich guys. She wants to be secure, not have to worry.”

“I had no idea.”

“So, she gets a little needy. But that’s fine. I like being there for her. And she’s always been there for me. Always. But right now, she’s terrified to wind up a single mother like her mom — struggling and alone.”

“She won’t be alone,” I said. “She has us.”

Yunjin’s eyes searched mine. “Us?”

“Well, of course. We’ll be there for her… we’ll deal with this together, right?”

“So, you… you wouldn’t want to just be with Karina?”

“What? Yunjin, I’m not going to leave you.”

Yunjin’s eyes became misty. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I can’t leave you. You’re everything to me.” I paused. “Though Karina does have bigger boobs.”

Yunjin pushed me away, only to see my grin. “You’re a dick,” she smiled.

I pretended to think about it more. “Hmm… no, it could never work without you. I’d need you to change diapers. I wouldn’t be able to handle that at all.”

When Karina walked into the living room, Yunjin was hitting me hard with a cushion.

“No, that’s not how you do it. You need something hard. Let me get a frying pan or a baseball bat. We can take turns.” Karina said.

While fending off Yunjin’s blows, I saw Karina’s eyes were red but otherwise she looked okay. Better than okay, since she was still naked. If Karina would be hanging around us, I would have to curb my habit of gawking whenever I saw her without clothes.

“So,” said Karina, “when Yunjin’s done beating you, got any dessert? I could use a sugar rush right now. But if it’s chocolate fondue again, I’m leaving.”

All we had were cookies, the cheap crumbly ones you get in a bag from the store. The three of us sat beside each other on the couch and talked.

I offered to clean up crumbs that had fallen on Karina’s boobs, and she sweetly informed me where she’d stuff her cookie if I tried. Yunjin found that particularly funny.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again.” Yunjin said.

“Doing what?”

“Sitting here naked, joking around.”

Karina nodded. “It’s nice. But feel free to leave if you have somewhere to go. Your boyfriend owes me a good fucking after leaving me all hot and bothered this afternoon.”

Yunjin’s face was the picture of shock.

“God, I’m kidding! After what we’ve been through, if he brings his dick near me again, I’ll cut it off.”

“Yeah?” I said, “Well, you keep that ravenous pussy of yours away from me or I’ll staple it shut.”

Once we stopped laughing, Karina said, “Oh! Yunjin, speaking of getting knocked up, I saw… you know, Mr. Nice Guy. He drove past me on my way to your place. I don’t think he saw me, though.”

“Mr. Nice Guy?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah!” said Yunjin, “Tell him about that guy!”

Karina sat back and said, “I went out with him a couple years ago. He was pretty rich. Great car, great condo, great hair, shitty taste in clothes. I should have known from the start that he was just another asshole looking for arm candy.”

“C’mon, tell him!” Yunjin said.

“He flew me to Paris,” said Karina.

“Really?” I said. “I guess he WAS rich.”

“Well, it wasn’t a private jet, but still. For a long weekend. Of course, I’d never been there, so I was like a little girl taking it all in. We stayed at a fancy hotel, walked around, saw the Louvre, Napoleon’s tomb, all that stuff. Then at night, we walked to the Eiffel tower. It was all lit up. Just incredible.”

“And…” prompted Yunjin.

“Oh, well in Paris people are making out everywhere. At the cafes, kissing on the street, everywhere. There’s a big park on the way to the Tower. While we were walking through it, couples were screwing on the park benches.”

“No way.”

“Yes! One couple, the girl was sitting in the guy’s lap, facing him. She was wearing a skirt, so they weren’t naked or anything, but it was obvious what was happening. We walked right by them on the path.”

“The City of Love, huh?” I said.

“Another couple was even more obvious. She was bent over the bench; he was behind. Even with just the streetlamps, it wasn’t subtle. Mr. Nice Guy told me in France it’s normal for everyone to have a lover. You’re married, and it’s just accepted you’ll also have someone on the side. Part of the culture I guess, don’t know if that’s really true.”

Beside me, Yunjin was squirming a little. Was this getting her turned on?

“I need to move to Paris,” I said. I expected a slap in the arm from Yunjin, but she looked lost in Karina’s story.

I could see Yunjin was really squirming and breathing hard, her chest flushed and breasts rising and falling. That gave me an idea. I whispered to Karina, then stood up and took some plates back to the kitchen.

When I came back, Karina had stood and moved behind the couch. We exchanged a look then she grabbed Yunjin’s wrists, pulling her arms up behind her head.

“Hey!” exclaimed Yunjin.

Karina held Yunjin’s arms tightly and twisted, forcing her to turn until she faced backwards on the couch towards Karina, knees on the seat. Yunjin’s lovely ass and wide hips looked delicious as I approached from behind.

I crouched over her and whispered, “Did that story turn you on? Would you like to be the one fucked across a park bench while people walk by?” I fondled one of her hanging breast and toyed with her pussy. Yunjin was soaked.

Yunjin hesitated then whispered, “Yes.”

I was hard by now. I said, “One day I’ll do that to you. But for now…”

I buried my dick in her with one slow stroke.

“Aaaahh,” Yunjin moaned, lifting her head and arching her back to receive my cock. Karina held her tightly to the couch and grinned at me.

I grasped Yunjin’s hips and started fucking her slowly. Each time I bottomed out, Yunjin grunted and pushed her ass back. She rested her head on the back of the couch and held on to her friend as I fuck her.

Soon I was fucking Yunjin steadily, losing myself in the sensations of her warm, tight pussy, the sight of her shapely ass and back, and the sound of her little gasps and grunts of pleasure. Each time I pressed forward it also caused Karina’s large breasts to sway a little as she eagerly watched us fuck.

Soon Yunjin so lost in lust that Karina released her arms. Yunjin held the back of the couch in languid submission, letting herself to be taken.

I was so immersed with Yunjin that I didn’t notice Karina moving to join her friend on the couch. She got on her knees beside Yunjin then waggled her ass, looking back at me with raised eyebrows.

I pulled myself from Yunjin. She raised her head as she felt me withdraw, awareness returning from her lust-induced stupor enough to realize her best friend was now beside her. I tentatively positioned myself behind Karina and looked at Yunjin expectantly.

She nodded. “Just be careful.”

Karina smiled then pushed her ass back, sinking me into her tight pussy halfway. I gripped her hips and drove the rest of the way in myself.

“No problem getting hard now, is there big guy?” she breathed, eyes lidded.

I took Karina firmly, holding her hips, and, despite the risk, tried to get as deep inside as possible. Yunjin kept her position, watching us, breathing with excitement. I loved how much it turned her on.

When I felt the urge to come rising, I pulled out and pushed back into Yunjin, fucking her again with determined, forceful strokes.

I alternated between Yunjin and Karina several times, careful to withdraw from Karina each time the need to come rose. In the end, I was fucking Karina with abandon as she huffed and grunted, pushing her ass back to match my strokes. When I reach under her to tantalize her clit with two fingers across her clit, she stiffened, and in a few moments gave a short gasp, and she came.

I stayed inside her as long as I dared, then pulled out to plunge balls-deep into Yunjin.

“Ah… God!” she exclaimed. I gave her several more strokes before unloading into her welcoming pussy.

I stayed mated to Yunjin, savoring the afterglow and the sight of the women presented before me. I leaned over to kiss Karina’s shoulder and cup one of her breast, and then did the same to Yunjin.

The girls turned around, and I sat between them, hugging them to my sides.

“I didn’t think we’d do this again,” said Yunjin, resting her head on my shoulder. “Is this going to be a regular thing?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “What if it is?”

Yunjin looked over at her friend. “Karina, are you okay?”

Karina was flushed and a little out of breath. “I have no complaints if you don’t.”

We talked a little longer until I yawned, causing the girls to yawn too. It was nearly midnight.

Yunjin stood and stretched, her body lovely in the candlelight. “I need to get home. Some people kept me up really late last night.”

Karina looked uncertain. I didn’t want her to leave, and a glance at Yunjin told me she didn’t either.

“Karina, can you stay with us tonight?” I said. “Just to sleep, I mean.”

Karina nodded, so Yunjin and I led her to the bedroom.

We put Karina in the middle of the bed this time and both of us cuddled against her sides. Karina pulled my hand to her boob, so I lightly squeezed and caressed it.

Karina kissed me and said, “Hold me?” I nodded, and she rolled to her side to face Yunjin. I spooned behind her and embraced her from behind, a hand on each breast. She looked back to caress my face then turned to Yunjin. The two of them talked in low whispers. I couldn’t make out what they were saying and was too tired to care. Soon I was dead asleep.

When I awoke it was dark and I was facing Yunjin with Karina was snoring softly behind me. Yunjin looked so lovely as she slept. I had to have her again. I ran my hand over her body and nuzzled her neck. Slowly she started to respond.

We made love, gentle and slow, embracing each other, kissing, neither of us needing to rush.

It was different this time. There was just enough light for me to see her and we gazed into each other’s eyes. Despite what Karina and I had done, Yunjin still wanted me and forgave us. It occurred to me that it wasn’t because she was some doormat who accepted anything, but because she had gained strength from her own struggles with lust and inhibition.

She whispered, “If Karina has a baby, it’ll need a friend.”

That got my attention. “What do you mean?”

“If she’s pregnant, will you knock me up too?”

“That’s not funny, Yunjin.”

She locked her legs around me as I eased in and out of her slowly.

“I’m not joking. I want to do this with you for real. No protection. As often as we can until I’m uh… carrying… uh… your child… uh… hey, be gentle. Make this… uh… last.”

I couldn’t help but push into her forcefully as she said those things. I tried to calm down. I whispered, “Where did this come from, Yunjin? Why would you want that?”

She kissed me. “Because I love you, silly. And you haven’t said it, but I’m pretty sure you love me.”

—

To our relief, Karina did not get pregnant. She immediately found birth control that worked for her and continued to join Yunjin and me, sharing our bed most weekends and sometimes through the week.

The scare was harrowing, but it brought the three of us closer. There were no more secrets, more trust, and more fun. The three of us started doing everything together: hang out, watch shows, cook, and travel. Except I refused to join the girl’s yoga class.

Like anything, nudity becomes routine once you’re used to it, but I still caught myself staring at the girls in admiration. I was no model, but Karina, always brash, liked to comment on my ass, chest or dick. Yunjin was more reserved, but I knew she enjoyed seeing me on display too.

Occasionally I would get an erection that refused to fade, so either Karina or Yunjin would volunteer to “take care of me.” Likewise, one of the girls would get horny for no reason and need my help. This always turned into an extended period in bed or on the living room floor.

We made up the rules as we went. Yunjin was happy to let Karina and I fuck anytime, but she preferred to be there to watch. Sometimes she needed me afterwards too. No matter how drained Karina left me, I somehow found renewed energy for my lovely Yunjin.

Karina kept up her wild lifestyle. Sometimes she met a new guy and disappeared, but she always gravitated back to us after a few weeks with bitter stories of the latest asshole and laments of “why can’t I just find a guy like you?”

One Sunday morning as the three of us lay in bed, Yunjin said, “We should all just move in together.”

Karina snorted. “Three people in a one-bedroom apartment? We’d go nuts.”

“We could find another place. None of us make much money, but together I think we could buy a house. Even without Karina’s income, we could afford something better.”

Karina and I both looked at her.

“A house?” I asked. “That’s a big step.”

“Is it?” said Yunjin. “You’re still hoping to find someone better than me and Karina? Run off with another girl… or three?”

The thought of being without Yunjin made me feel ill. I couldn’t imagine being without Karina, either. “You know I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I love you, remember?”

She kissed me. “And I love you. And Karina. Though I’d love her a lot more if she’d stop running away every time she thinks she’s found prince charming.”

“What’s wrong with wanting a guy all to myself?” Karina said.

“Nothing. Though remember your goldfish? Full-time boyfriends take even more care and feeding… even after you’ve got them trained.” She patted my arm in mock condescension.

“Hey,” I said, “So I’m a goldfish to you now?”

“Mmm, no. More like a puppy.”

“Yeah… a pussy hound,” added Karina.

“Karina!” we both exclaimed. I hit her with a pillow.

“I have to admit, I’m never at my place anymore. We could just get a two bedroom somewhere.” Karina said.

“That was my first thought,” said Yunjin. “But have you seen the rent in the city lately? It’s crazy. I did the numbers and it would be cheaper to get a house. Nothing fancy. Maybe some place outside of town.”

“That’s an idea. An old farmhouse with some land. Privacy to walk around outside nude. Fuck on the lawn.” I said,

This time, Karina hit me with the pillow. “See? That’s all he thinks about.”

—

We found an old house, set back from the road in the trees. The privacy and large yards was perfect for three full-time nudists to play and bask in the sun when we wanted.

When we took possession, the three of us drove out together.

“Never thought we’d own an actual house,” Yunjin said. She held the keys with reverence.

When we got out of the car, we noticed the silence. No traffic, no sirens… just birds and the breeze through the surrounding woods.

“All right!” Karina exclaimed, “Let’s make ourselves at home!” She stripped off her clothes and threw them on the front yard. Yunjin did the same, and both ran for the back.

“Hey! Wait!” I shouted, but they had already rounded the corner. I heard screams. When I got there, Karina and Yunjin stood trying to cover themselves while the two electricians we had hired to install an outside outlet watched and grinned.

The girls fled.

“Sorry about that, guys. They’re just a little excited about finally moving in.” I said.

“Perfectly all right,” said the older electrician. “It’s your home. Say, if you can get them to come back and just… I dunno… stand there, maybe we can put a discount on your bill.”

—

Once the electricians had left, the three of us lay on the grass of the backyard, naked under the sun, enjoying the freedom of our own property.

“It’s so quiet,” said Yunjin.

“Too quiet,” said Karina, sharing a look with her friend.

Before I knew what was happening, Yunjin had scooted down and take my cock into her mouth while Karina kissed me then lowered her pussy onto my face. I wound up fucking one, then the other, and then the three of us lay back on the grass to recover, naked under the early summer sun.

The house needed work. We watched videos and borrowed books about painting, drywall, carpentry and maintaining a septic tank. Karina enjoyed painting, which I loathed. Yunjin found furniture and took charge organizing. None of us knew what we were doing, but as we learned we became even closer friends and lovers.

Though Karina had her own bedroom, we usually all slept together. Some nights Karina needed me all to herself, so I spent the night alone with her and we exhausted ourselves.

Karina still went into town to party, and ran off with some guy for months after we moved in. A week later she returned, more upset than usual. She never told us what happened, but she needed attention from Yunjin and me for weeks afterward.

The permanence of having our own house, and having two people who cared for her, seemed to calm Karina. She was happier, though still a little wild. She partied in town less and less and, best of all, never ran off again.

Soon the three of us realized that our odd three-way relationship was stable. We lived in near harmony, sharing the household duties and finances like we shared a bed each night.

I never saw jealousy between my two wonderful women, but life in the house wasn’t perfect. We had squabbles about money and petty things.

One evening Karina stood in front of me while I was watching TV and said, “underwear and socks are not home decor, you know. Can you take them to your room when you get home, instead of just leaving them everywhere?”

“Well, toenail clippings and pubic hair aren’t either,” I retorted, referring to Karina’s habit of grooming her feet and bush while she watched TV.

“Ass,” she said, playfully.

“Slut,”

Karina attacked me. We wound up wrestling. Karina was agile. Often our matches ended with her astride my neck, pinning me down and shoving her pussy in my face. Or, she would have her legs hooked around my waist, shoving her boobs into my mouth.

That time, however, I dominated and forced my hard cock between her legs.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, looking down at my dick.

When Yunjin heard the commotion, she strolled into the living room to watch. She loved watching Karina and me fuck almost as much as she loved getting fucked herself.

“Yunjin!” said Karina, struggling to throw me off, “Help!”

“Okay,” said Yunjin. She crouched and pinned Karina’s arms above her head.

“Help ME, not him… ohhhhh.”

Karina groaned as I pushed my cock into her love tunnel. But then she stopped struggling and spread her legs wide, letting me take her.

Yunjin held Karina’s arms, breathing with excitement and lovingly stroking Karina’s hair while I fucked her on our living room floor.

It was our favorite way of making up.

Yunjin started talking about kids again. If we were in the city and saw a baby, she would stop to make a fuss. Once we walked by a playground and she insisted on watching the antics of the toddlers until their caretakers started looking at with unease.

“You should do it, Yunjin,” said Karina one Saturday as we sunned ourselves naked in the yard. “Let him knock you up.”

“So should you,” said Yunjin.

Karina snorted. “I can barely take care of myself.”

“Wouldn’t you like a little baby? You’d be a great mom. I know you would.”

“Like hell. I’d drop the kid on his head the first day. And the whole childbirth thing? Doesn’t it squick you out? It’s gross! It’s okay for your cavernous cunt to get all stretched out, but our guy likes my tight pussy.”

Yunjin gasped. “God, you’re filthy. I’ve never heard any complaints from him. And I’m pretty sure he’s spent a lot more time in me than in you.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Ladies, once again, I’m right here, you know. If that’s a concern, Karina, I hear they can stitch you up afterward. Make you tighter than ever.”

Both girls goes “Ewww” and slapped me.

Yunjin kept talking about kids throughout the summer.

“I know,” she said one day, “We’ll go camping to the same place. You can fuck me just like before, only we’ll time it so I’m at peak fertility. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

At first, I wasn’t sure that we were ready, but Yunjin convinced me. She stopped her birth control, and we began planning the trip.

A few days later, Karina asked me to sleep just with her, in her room. She was clingy that night, wrapping herself around me, urging me to go deep and fuck her hard.

“I’m going to lose you two.”

“How can you lose us? We’re family.” I said, surprised.

“You, Yunjin and a baby will be family. I’ll be a fifth wheel.”

“Karina, what’s wrong? I thought you were happy about our plans.”

“I am. I’m happy for Yunjin. I’m happy for you. But it doesn’t leave any place for me.”

“Your place is here. We love you. I love you. You know that. We’re together. All of us. The only thing that would change is how little sleep we’ll get with a baby around.”

Karina burrowed her head against me and said nothing.

Yunjin and I were installing a new kitchen faucet by ourselves when she said, “We never asked Karina to come camping with us, you know.”

I snorted. “We never asked because neither of us could imagine Karina camping. She’s a city girl.”

“We’re city people too, and we did it. You’ve gone backwoods camping several times.”

“Yeah, but Karina gets grumpy if she doesn’t have immediate access to a latte or high heels.”

“C’mon. She likes it out here. I think she’s feeling left out. We should at least ask.”

We did. To my surprise, Karina agreed. She even seemed excited. She started pestering us with questions: how long was the hike? How did you go to the bathroom…”

“Are you really sure you want to come?” I asked.

“I can be just as tough as Yunjin, you know. And if you’re determined to turn our poor sweet Yunjin into an unwed mother, she’ll need me to hold her hand while you do it. Or hold her down if she gets cold feet.”

—

The summer heat hit us as we emerged from the cool shade of the forest. I spread my arms and said, “Behold.”

Karina and Yunjin looked around at the camping area and out at the little lake. “This is so beautiful!” exclaimed Karina.

“And all just for us.” I added.

The girls set their backpacks on the ground and groaned with relief. “Oh, it’s good to get that off,” said Karina. “You guys call this fun?” She wiped sweat from her face and neck.

I set my pack down too. “Yeah, but it’s still a lot to carry.”

“Good thing you two were carrying most of it. I thought I’d die back there on the trail.”

“Time to cool off,” said Yunjin, pulling off her clothes. “Let’s go swim.”

We stripped and ran into the little lake.

“Oh my God,” said Karina as she swam on her back, her large breasts breaking the surface. “This is wonderful.”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years since we were here,” said Yunjin, also floating on her back. Her modest breasts barely poked from the water.

We floated and swam, confident no one would disturb us. Though the lake had two campsites, we had reserved the other one to make sure we would be alone on the long weekend.

When we had cooled down, we toweled each other off on the shore.

Karina squeezed the water from her long jet-black hair then ran her fingers through it to slick back over her head. Her upraised arms and arching back lifting her breasts to the sun was a breathtaking sight.

We got to work setting up camp.

“You guys have to tell me what to do,” said Karina, “and don’t make fun of me. You know I’ve never camped before.”

Yunjin and I instructed Karina in gathering fallen branches for firewood and how to fill the filter bag for clean water, then we all set up our new three-person tent.

Karina peered in the tent doorway, “Three-person tent, huh?

“We’re used to snuggling,” said Yunjin. “It’ll be fine.”

We all crawled inside to lay on the camping mats, the girls on either side of me.

“See?” I said. ‘It’s a palace. Lots of room, as long as we spoon.’ I rolled Yunjin onto her side and nestled behind her. “Mmm. After that hike I could use a nap.”

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, squirming away. “I know what kind of ‘nap’ you have in mind. We still have things to set up.”

Yunjin crawled out of the tent and pulled me with her. Karina reluctantly emerged as well.

“Okay, we’ll play later. Someone needs to string up a clothesline, and we need to get a line into a tree to hang our packs.” I said.

“Why?” asked Karina.

“Animals,” said Yunjin. “You hang the packs and anything else that smells in a tree away from the camp. So raccoons and bears don’t rip them open at night or follow the scent to our camp.”

Karina furrowed her brow. “You never said anything about bears.”

“There are only black bears around here. They’re no big deal.”

“I don’t care if they’re teddy bears. A bear is a bear.”

“Sort of. Black bears aren’t that aggressive, as long as cubs aren’t around, anyway. You can usually scare them away. And I have bear spray just in case.”

Karina wrapped her arms around herself. “You guys call this fun? Let’s just go home. We have trees there. And no bears.”

“And you always say you’re the adventurous one,” I teased.

“Yeah, for parties. Not for getting eaten by wildlife.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve camped here many times. Never seen anything but deer and raccoons.”

We gave Karina rope to string up as a clothesline while Yunjin and I found the tree we had used on our first camping trip and got it ready to hoist our packs later that evening.

When we returned to camp, Karina had hung up our one mutual towel on the line.

“Everything is all set.” I looked at Yunjin suggestively. “Now we can take that nap.”

“It’s too hot. Even hotter in the tent. Besides, I’m not horny.” Yunjin said

I sighed. “Karina?”

“What? No way. It’s too hot.”

“You’re not horny either?”

“Nope,” said Karina, putting her hands behind her and rocking back on her heels. She had a little smile.

“Well, I am,” I said, “and as alpha male, I demand to mate with my harem.”

The girls scoffed.

“Listen to him,” said Karina. “He thinks he’s in charge.”

I spread my arms and stepped towards Yunjin with exaggerated stalking movements. She laughed, backing away. “Keep away, ‘alpha male.’”

Trying not to laugh, I growled, “The first girl I catch, I fuck,” then lunged at Yunjin. She yelped and ran. I turned to Karina. With a big smile, she bolted in the other direction.

I chased the girls, laughing and screaming. Yunjin was the slowest, but she was agile. Each time I nearly caught her, she weaved and feinted away. After a few more times, she plunged into the water and swam to the middle.

“No fair!” I yelled. Yunjin was a powerful swimmer… there was no way I would catch her in the lake.

I turned back to Karina. I herded her to the edge of the campsite where thorny bushes and a large tree blocked her way. I spread my arms as I approached, ready to catch her if she bolted.

Karina stood with her back against the tree, looking left and right. “Stay away, you beast,” she laughed.

“You’re mine now,” I growled dramatically and edged closer.

By now, I was hard as steel. Karina’s eyes widened when she saw it.

“You think I’m your bitch to fuck whenever you feel like it?” she said.

I closed the gap and pinned her to the tree, holding her wrists with one hand. “Uh huh. And I feel like it, Now.”

Karina just grinned as I forced her legs apart and started rubbing my cock along her slit. She was already wet. I started sliding back and forth, becoming slick from her wetness.

“Beast,” she breathed, but she pushed back at me.

I released her wrists and put my arms under her ass, lifting her up against the tree and forcing her legs around me. I positioned my cock up her entrance and pushed. Karina inhaled sharply, eyes widening as I penetrated her. She held onto the tree behind her as I started fucking her against it. Soon she wrapped her legs and arms tight around me and pulled me into a deep kiss.

I rutted deep into her grasping tunnel with no thought of prolonging our mating or getting her off. I was consumed with a primal need to fuck this beautiful woman until I filled her.

It didn’t take long. A few final thrusts and I grunted, cumming hard into her. Karina clung and panted, her welcoming womb accepting my seed.

Eventually, my heart slowed and I lowered her legs. I kept myself inside her as we kissed and embraced. When I finally softened and slipped from her, I pulled Karina away from the tree and turned her around to brush bits of bark from her back.

Karina looked back. “Ass,” she said.

“You bring it out in me,” I grinned. “You okay?”

“I’ve just been fucked by my ‘alpha male’ How could I not be okay?” She forced a smile, then it trailed away into an odd, unreadable expression.

Yunjin was drying off when we got back to the tent.

“No fair going in the water,” I said. “You know you’re a better swimmer.”

“I wasn’t going to let you fuck ME against some tree. When we do it, I want it long and slow.”

“Suits me,” I said. “I think I’m ready for an actual nap now.”

The three of us crawled back into the tent. It was still hot, but we snoozed for an hour, entwined in a heap.

Daylight was fading when we woke. While Karina and I washed up in the lake, Yunjin started a fire. We ate dinner, warmed by the fire, watching the sun set and stars slowly emerge.

“Oh,” said Yunjin, “I forgot.” She fetched a small carton from her pack and handed it to Karina.

“Instant Chai Tea Latte Mix,” read Karina. “Gee, guys… you shouldn’t have.”

We laughed and Yunjin sat back down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder as she watched the fire and absently played with my dick. When I started getting hard, she glanced at me with a wry smile and lowered her head to take me in her mouth. After a few minutes, she stretched out by the fire and guided my head down between her legs. I licked her gently for a long while as she lay in the firelight. I concentrated my efforts and soon brought her to orgasm as she moaned and pushed my face into her.

I slid up Yunjin’s body, ready to enter her, but she pushed back on my chest.

“Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, searching her eyes.

“I… I don’t know about this.”

I rolled off and held her. “This is what we planned.”

“I know. But… all my life I was told to stay away from guys. Getting pregnant was the worst thing that could ever happen. And now…”

“…and now you’re all grown up. You’re a woman, not a girl. Your family isn’t here to brand you a slut. You decide what’s right.”

“My head knows that,” said Yunjin. “But inside…”

I was afraid this might happen. We had planned this trip for months, but it was a big step for Yunjin. The final step, in her mind, that would separate her from her past: getting pregnant.

We timed the trip so she would be unprotected and at her most fertile. She was more vulnerable to impregnation than the first time we had coupled at the same campsite.

Back then, I had taken Yunjin backwoods camping for the first time. She was determined to shed the demons of guilt and shame from her strict upbringing. Just being alone with a guy was a big step, let alone camping in the wilderness with one. But the beauty of the surroundings and the sense of freedom led to our first experiments with nudity, followed by us fucking without protection later on. It was stupid, but fortunately Yunjin did not get pregnant. That weekend, Yunjin started discovering her inner strength and started living free, acting as she judged best, no longer following the repressive edicts of her parents.

As we lay together by the fire, I let Yunjin wrestle with the last remnants of those feelings of guilt and shame.

Finally, she urged me on top of her.

“I’m through being scared.” She spread her legs. ‘Do it,’ she smiled. “Fuck me. Knock me up. Make love to me for real.”

Our coupling was tender, both understand it wasn’t just to satisfy our lust. There would be life-changing consequences for all of us. We hoped.

When I approached the point of no return, I looked into Yunjin’s eyes.

“Last chance,” I panted.

Yunjin’s eyes were bright. “Let go,” she whispered. “Make me yours forever.”

I pushed in deep and with two more strokes emptied all I had into my love’s fertile body. She groaned and arched her back as she felt me inseminate her. It signalled victory over her last taboo. She was finally free of her demons.

From the other side of the fire, Karina watched excited as I hopefully impregnated her best friend.

“Way to go, Yunjin,” she said.

As we lay together recovering, Yunjin said, “You were supposed to fuck me first this weekend, you know.”

“I know. But you ran into the lake. What’s am I supposed to do? And how can I deprive poor Karina?”

Yunjin just shook her head.

“How about this,” I said, “this weekend I fuck you the most.”

“I guess that’s okay, as long every time is like what we just did.”

The three of us sat around the fire, joking and chatting until the air grew chilly. Then we secured the campsite for the night and crawled into the tent.

Sometime that night, Karina woke me in her usual way: stroking me to hardness. The remains of the campfire cast flickering light through the tent wall. Yunjin was snoring gently, her back to us.

“I can’t sleep,” Karina whispered. “I keep thinking I hear bears.”

“Well, if one comes around, I’ll go out and beat him up. I have quite a reputation in these woods, you know.”

She chuckled. “Oh, yes. Please protect me, Mr. Man!”

“Seriously, they’re really more scared of us. Especially me.” I grinned.

“You ass.” She felt my hard dick. “Ready for more?”

“I’m always ready for you, Karina.” I gently rolled on top of her and poked my hardness between her legs. She must have been playing with herself… she was already wet.

Karina sighed happily as I slid into her. No matter how many times I fucked that wonderful woman I marveled at her wet tightness and how different she felt from Yunjin.

Karina breathed in excitement, tilting her hips, driving me deeper.

We said nothing more as we fucked in dim light. Then I remembered she hadn’t come last time, so I pulled out and started sliding down her body, eager to lick her to an orgasm or three.

“No,” she breathed, urging me back up. “Not now. Just fuck me.”

“I want to make you cum.”

“Later. Just fuck me. Come on… breed me like you bred Yunjin. Knock me up. Make me yours too.”

That was odd. Karina had never played that game before. She knew the idea excited me, but pregnancy horrified her. She never even teased about me impregnating her.

I slid up and she sighed as I pushed back into her. Karina lay there, passively letting me take her, then slowly she started to respond, pushing back and moaning. She was tight as always, but it felt like her pussy grasped my dick even more, and she was so warm.

It was so stimulating I reached my peak much sooner than usual I almost collapsed on her as my muscles weakened when I came. Karina just lay there, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling of the tent as I inseminated her for the second time that day.

After a few moments, Karina gently pushed me off. Instead of cuddling up against me, she stayed on her back with knees raised.

Yunjin, however, snuggled against my other side. She said nothing, just pecked my cheek and reached down to feel me, still slick from Karina. Just like that first time, Yunjin had been listening silently while I fucked her best friend, enjoying every minute.

After three nights camping with the two women, playing, swimming and making love, I was exhausted. But the trip was successful: two weeks later, Yunjin was pregnant. The three of us celebrated and started planning.

Four weeks after the trip, Karina rushed to the bathroom one morning and threw up.

Yunjin went to see what was wrong. She returned a long time later, pulling Karina behind her. She was holding a pregnancy test wand.

“So… you know how I always told Karina that our baby could use a friend?”

I sat up. “Oh, no.”

Yunjin nodded, eyes wide.

I got up to hug them. Karina avoided my eyes.

“How did this happen?” I said. “How far along are you?”

Yunjin said, “Apparently, the same as me.”

I tried to process that. “So… I’m the father?”

Karina gasped and pushed me. “Of course! Who else would I let knock me up?”

“Let me? So, on our camping trip… you weren’t protected? On purpose?”

Karina look to Yunjin, “Guys are really slow sometimes, aren’t they?”

“But why? I thought having a kid squicked you out.”

Karina buried her face against my chest with one arm around me and the other around Yunjin. “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

I met Yunjin’s eyes while stroking Karina’s hair. “That would never happen. I told you… we’re a family.”

“Well, we sure are now,” said Karina. She looked up. “Angry?”

“Shocked,” I said. “Amazed. But not angry. You know I wanted to have a baby with you too. But now how the hell am I going to deal with two pregnant women at the same time.”

“We’ll take it easy on you. It’s going to be a big change. For all of us.” Yunjin said

I started pulling Karina and Yunjin to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I can give you both twins.”

“But that’s not how… never mind. Let’s try anyway.” Yunjin laughed and pulled Karina onto the bed with her.

#yunjin smut #karina smut #le sserafim smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

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blondieeu · 3 months ago

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shy. gojo s.

satoru gojo having a shy girlfriend definitely includes him always complimenting you, just to watch you get all nervous and hot for him.

satoru already knew you were a pretty shy girl from the first time he’d even met you. pretty and kind. the type to break eye contact and cover your face when complimented, just what he liked.

you enjoyed lots of poetry and books, so he picked up the reading habit as well— trying his best to be your dream man, just so he could make you blush some more.

one of satorus favorite times of the day to compliment you were in the early mornings. when the sun had just barely risen from the horizon and the sleep hadn’t been rubbed out of either of your eyes yet. he was always the one to wake up first, so while he waited he’d just stare at you, until you woke up not too long after.

“hi.”

“hi”

the mornings were one of the only times satoru could stare without you asking him dumb questions like; “why are you staring” or “haven’t you had enough of my face?” he could never get enough!

but eventually of course satoru would have to ruin the moment by saying something beautiful. the kind of thing only men in books would say to their lover, and it was only because they were written by women.

“i wanna be with you for the rest of my life.”

a bashful smile would spread onto your face, all before your cheeks would start to feel all hot and you’d turn away from him, trying to hide it. your boyfriend never took offense to it though, instead he laughed and pulled you closer kissing at your neck, tickling you and gathering quiet giggles from you. he thought he could die a happy man, right in this moment.

“im gonna propose soon, so be ready.”

“you can’t joke around like that satoru!”

“i already bought the ring”

the giggles quickly came to a halt as you turned towards him, his crystal blue eyes meeting your own in all seriousness.

“you’re for real?”

“marry me.”

blondieeu xx

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yeyinde · 10 months ago

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when your need grows teeth | John Price x f!Reader

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than let it go. It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog. Of course he's going to take a bite. He thinks you ought to have known this by now.

SMUT 18+ | gratuitous smut; HEAVY breeding kink, breeding; Dom!John Price; p-in-v sex, unsafe sex; rough sex; mentions of spanking; mutual manipulation; this is roughly 10k of John Plotting and fucking you; John is: unhinged, obsessive, possessive, and Scheming. mentions of birth control tampering but nothing is followed through. No. He’s going to knock you up the old-fashioned way—by making you beg for it.

AO3 MIRROR

John has always had this desire—this awful, instinctual drive in the back of his head to knock someone up. Get them fat, swollen with his child. His.

And maybe that's the crux of it. Possession. To have something of the most rooted kind. To irrevocably change someone—their anatomy, their body, the chemistry in their brain, their status in life from them (single no dependents) to mother (mother of his child), their very atoms—and create life from the combined parts.

It's this almost fantastical beast, this unreachable dream for him.

It's his Shangri-la. His castle in Spain.

He's not under any disillusionment that this idea of fatherhood, of parenthood, is slightly skewed. That most men who want children don't feel this overwhelmingly greedy desire to fundamentally alter someone in such an irreversible way. It's not quite ownership, but it's the same ilk. A bastardised, unwanted child of it.

And it's not just this idea of claimation—to forever be the father of their child, even if neither of them stays together; a piece of him will always be there, parasitic, no matter what—but something deeper. Something a bit less—egregious.

This is, and always has been, about yearning.

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than to let it go.

Marriage, he finds, is breakable. Divorce, separation. He's always on his worst behaviour in the initial stages of dating, so it's never something he has to entertain since no one ever sticks around long enough for it to be on the table, much less the menu, but the idea of it—of signing papers, of hashing out the split, of being known as ex-husband—leaves a bitter tang between his teeth. It won't do. He needs permanence. Perpetuity.

Nothing says forever quite like a child, does it?

And sure—he’s aware that countermeasures exist: custody orders, sole custody, shared; allotted visitations; divisional lines in this new age that keep the parents from ever interacting—but while you can get divorced, you can't unmake a child, can you?

The child would never write him out, either.

Where deadbeats exist, it's important to note that their counterparts do, too. The ones like him who will gouge their eyes out of their skulls before they ever let what happened to them growing up trickle down and impact their child, polluting the pool.

Simply put: John Price knows he'd be the best dad there is because he's stubborn that way.

It helps, he supposes, that he really only has so much love to give out to the world, and greedily, he stashed the entirety of it away in a box to give to his would-be wife and their child. An overwhelming deluge that promises happiness should it ever be unlocked. Pandora's box, perhaps—down to the very essence because if John Price were to ever love someone, then it's probably in their best interest to run from it, this gaping, needy chasm.

Not that it would ever be a possibility, of course—he’s much too good at compartmentalisation, in taking out his anger, his viciousness, on the ugly world he drenches himself in, the one his hands have a tangible cause and effect principle in place that will forever feed that starving beast inside of him.

Ergo—he’s a staunch supporter of the theory: happy wife, happy life. Though where those men think in a box stuffed full of emotional intimacy, flowers, chocolate, maintaining love, all-consuming and enduring, he takes it to extremes that would have them cowering a little bit. Maybe a lot.

But that's fine. He only has to make sure his family is happy. No one else matters, save a select few who have a seat at his table during Sunday dinners.

The rest, though? Spare parts.

(The ice-cold resolve in those two words is apodictic, brass bound, and he's sure if his higher-ups knew about it, well—

His chest candy would be a hole in the ground. Put the rabid dog down before it has a chance to bite.)

But that all-consuming, devouring, obsessive love he has to give, that begs to be let free, is the reason why it's so tightly leashed. Locked up in a box. Untouchable. Inaccessible.

It's why he isn't married.

Ghost once asked him why the women he dated were older. Much older. Menopausal (always). And he'd said something to the effect of it being his type. Older women who wouldn't cower away from the acrid burn of him, who wouldn't hurt their delicate little hands on his gritty surface.

But the real reason is because he knows better.

He's a starving dog, and it's just bad form to dangle a piece of meat in front of it. Especially when the hand holding it is his own.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, and all.

(The keen look in Ghost's eyes told him that, perhaps, the man already knew the reason when he asked, and was just satiating himself with kinship—the dark, awful look on Simon's ugly mug after the dredging the underbelly of Price’s rotten, mouldering mudfloor of things unsaid spoke volumes.

They'd both nodded. Content, then. And promptly ordered a shot of whisky to drown the salivation, the hunger, from clogging their throats. Killing the urge to bite.

A pair of packless, stray dogs.)

But then he found you, and all his careful planning, all his distance, blew up in his face.

It's always been on his mind since then. Lingering in his periphery—this fevered, tantalising vision of you, round and swollen with his child.

It's unattainable, of course. A fantasy.

Though, this—you throwing up in the washroom of his penthouse, undoubtedly knocked up by his machinations—is probably because he kept that desire too close to where he hides his questionable mortality, the one that allows him to throw innocent people to their deaths, and send mothers and fathers to an early grave just so he can rip his fists apart on their bastard offspring in his own brand of catharsis that always bites back when they grow up, hankering for revenge.

He's always been good at snatching dreams out of the air, clenching them tight in his fists. Taming chimerical wants, whims, until they were docile, domesticated. Making realities out of fiction.

And really—he’s just not a good man.

He thought you'd have known this by now.

He remembers the first time he growled the words into your ear as he came, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Desperate for it, he teased after, fingers fucking into your sloppy, leaking hole. Pushing his spend back into you. Half-drunk on the taste of you still clinging to his beard, but mostly just mesmerised by the sight of you—pretty pussy all ruined, swollen from the vicious, hateful pounding he gave it, and dipping with his cum like a faucet.

(It pissed him off—still does, really—when you waste it like this.)

Gonna fill you up, he snarled, low and wrecked. Gonna make it take—

It was a fantasy. Still is. But the way it took root in the garden of your bedroom, like it belonged—native flora, he thinks, a touch mad with it—had something ugly, oil slick, rearing up from that untouchable place in his head.

He could really blame you for it—and does. The way your ankles locked tight around his thighs, hands reaching, grabbing at his waist, clawing at his asscheeks to press him in deeper, deeper still, as he came inside of you, cock lodged right against your plug, had that untameable beast cocking its head in consideration after you danced too close to it, waking it from his long, restful slumber.

You wanted it. Ached for it. He could feel it in the way your walls tightened around him, practically starving for it. Your pretty, glossy eyes rolling back into your head. Drool running down your chin. A litany of pleas spilled from your kiss-bruised lips, begging him for it. Please, John. Please. Please—

Who was he to deny you?

Even if you made a big, flustered show of waving it off—not something I've ever imagined for myself, you know? and–and your lifestyle, what you do—is something like that even possible for us?—he saw how it curled around your shoulders, dipping its silver tongue into your ear. Germinating.

He let it. Encouraged it.

“Something to talk about later,” he indulged, reaching over for a cigar just to smother the urge to breed you stupid. To tie you to his bedposts and keep you full until your belly was swelling with more than just the absurd volume of his seed he pumped inside of you.

And, oh—

The uneasy smile on your face reeked of disappointment.

Fuck. Fuck—

John went to the washroom after that, heart pounding out of his chest, and jabbed the lit end of his cigar into his thigh to kill the fever in his veins. To rewrite the desperate, ugly howling in his head with pain instead.

It worked. Works—

Until you came to him, all watery-eyed and worried, and told him to please, please stop falling asleep with a lit cigar because you think you might just go mad if you lost him to a cigarette fire. And doesn't he see how silly it is, these burns look so bad, John, and I worry—

His teeth ached. He smiled, but it felt like a grimace. A dog holding back the instinct to bare its teeth.

“Sure, love,” he'd said, and started taking out his anger on your cunt instead, fucking you deep, and stupid. Getting you all cockdrunk, and hungry for the dream that spoiled so badly in the back of his head, he's sure a proper man would call it a nightmare. “Anything you want.”

(Brassbound. Apodictic. You know that, he knows you know that, so imagine his surprise when you come to him, all soft and tender, and ask him to pick up your birth control as if he hadn't spent the better part of two years grumbling every fucking time you took it and wasn't on the verge of tossing the damn bottle out the window, and fucking you until it took—

But—you do know that, don't you?

Well, then. Whatever his lady wants, right? Right.)

“Can you stop by the pharmacy on your way home tonight?”

He hums, fiddling with the belt of his slacks in front of the mirror. “Sure, love. You feelin’ sick?”

“No,” you murmur, sliding behind him on your way to the washroom, wearing nothing but a towel tucked under your arms. “I need my refill. For birth control.”

His hands still. A gnarled, rotted tendril curls over the edge of the cesspool, murky, ink black water splashing all over the place. “Oh, yeah? Still taking that, hm?”

You fluster. Hands waving, chock full of nervous, emotive energy you can't seem to shake off. “Well—yes. I mean, obviously.”

And he'd leave it there, let the spillage dry on the hot pavement, if you hadn't glanced back at him, all damp keenness, slightly skittish, and asked, feather-soft and utterly fragile, “right?”

Right? A question, he notes. Not a statement.

He licks his teeth. Tastes something rancid in the gaps.

“Mm. I suppose so.” He leaves it vague, but drenches it in the heavy weight of his disappointment. Anchors dragging it down. You flit around the space like a house-locked bird, slamming into the walls and ceiling as you try—blind and panicked—to find an escape. Any escape.

He finds the whole thing utterly charming. Especially when you realise he pitched himself in front of the only exit, thick, heavy hands curled around his belt, cock outlined against his slacks, already thickened, drooling in his pants.

There's gasp—wet, and sharp—as you take him in. The liquid of his eyes as his want bleeds out of his skull. The flush on his cheeks, the twitch of his cock at the mere mention of you not taking your silly little pills.

John lets it sit for a moment, taking in greedy lungfuls of your unease as you glance everywhere but at him, as if looking in his direction, breathing in this toxic miasma will give you a contact high. Infectious. Gnarled.

The little seed that started germinating blooms.

He fights back the urge to grin, all teeth. Madness staining them black.

“It's—it’s on—” and fuck, he's never seen you so unsure before, this nervous. You handle him like a wrangler, wrassling his brutish dominance until it's putty in your hands, splitting his head into pieces and galvanising the madness inside until it's scripture for you to peek at whenever you need guidance, insight into him, his essence, his being.

Your dyadic has always been built on permeance.

John doesn't think there's a single person alive who understands him as much as you do. The only person who seems content to gorge yourself on his rotted marrow like it was a delicacy.

Seeing you like this rents his resolve in two.

“It's the pharmacy near the, uh, the school. The kindergarten.”

He chokes on a groan, and thinks he tears something in his throat with the strain of keeping it down. There's blood, ash, in the back of his throat.

“Alright, love. I'll pick it up.”

You smell it, and shiver.

It's giving meat to a starving dog, and saying, dog, don't take a bite.

And so, of course he does.

John picks up your prescription, tossing it in the passenger seat like it personally offended him. And it has. Does. It's what's standing in the way between what he wants, what he craves, and there's a distinct thrum of irritation welling inside of him. One that started when he had to bark out your name at the counter earlier, and the pharmacist looked at him, and calmly, kindly, explained what it was he was picking up.

Make sure she takes them once a day. Preferably at the same time. This brand of oral contraceptive can be taken with or without food—

Fuck off, he thought—thinks, even now, glowering into the tinted window of the pharmacy.

He grips the steering wheel tight until his scarred knuckles bleach white under the strain, and sits in the parking lot, staring, unseeingly, at the shops. Pensive. Thoughtful. It gnarls over his expression until he's the picture of that grizzly-like intensity you often accuse him of. All furrowed brows and a pinched, angry twist to his lips.

There's a series of complex equations running laps in his head. He's no stranger to this process, needing to make life or death decisions in less time it takes someone to snap their fingers, or tentatively stammer out his title.

This one is more linear than the rest. One plus one, so to speak. But the weight of it is profound. Heavier, even, than deciding between the success of his mission and the life of an innocent bystander.

(But he thinks he's just selfish like that.)

In his head, he debates the ethics of replacing all of these silly little tablets that stand in his way with sugar pills.

It would be the quickest path to the end, but the risk-reward ratio ebbs and flows the more he considers things without the miasmic influence of that abomination throwing itself at the walls of its enclosure, howling in an endless cacophony of do it, do itdoit—

A better man wouldn't even have such a temptation. He supposes that's what you deserve, but he already had this particular crisis a few months after he met you, and realised that the things he wanted to do to you would undoubtedly put him on a list. Slapped so hard with a restraining order, his ears would still be buzzing.

That something about you made his jowls twinge, and his teeth ache, and no amount of stay away from her, Price; she deserves better than you was going to keep his dirty hands from curling around your throat, leaving soot-stains on your skin in the shape of his fingerprints. Brandishing ownership in burst blood vessels; a pretty collar for you to wear because as much as you like to pretend otherwise—

You're a dog just like him.

In any case, he's the best choice for you. The only one who'd burn the world just to keep you warm, and that's what you really need. Protection.

And fuck—you toy with that particular urge that has always been etched in fine lines within the walls of bones; dipping your fingers into it, and spreading it over the apples of your cheek. Everything about you prickles along his hindbrain. Renders him from a modern man with modern ideals to an animal who can only speak in growls, snarls; pure primalism, all instinct.

You're made for each other down to the bone. He's sure he could split your head apart and find that your cranial sutures are perfectly mirrored. Made in the same image: you were grown from his missing rib, and he always meant to be cradled in the brackets of your thighs.

So, crisis of worthiness aside—because there are none, not anymore—he plots. Plans. Schemes. But his machinations keep catching on the soft fibrils of your wants.

John doesn't know what he'd do if you changed your mind.

(Or, rather, he does but that's another madness to unravel with his personal therapist.)

It's with this—the slight brandishing of his uncertainty in your certainty—that he gives up the idea, pocketing it for a later date, and drives home, back to you.

He doesn't toss the bag on the counter, but sets it up perfectly, placing it as close to the edge where the bin sits under it. All it would take is a breath of wind for it to fall into the trash.

That doesn't happen, though. You stare at the white, crinkled package for a moment as he sips on his tea, quietly contemplative. With your expression hidden from him, he has no idea what might be going through that pretty head of yours. Disappointment, he can only hope. And then you're reaching for it, fingers gripping the bag tightly in your fist. He hears the paper crumble. It sparks something inside his chest. A bloom of hope that you might just throw it out. Toss it in the bin—

You turn to him instead, knuckles white.

“Thanks,” you say, and the matter is dropped.

He goes to tuck that want back where it escaped, leaving slick trails of putrefying rot behind, but—

John peeks in the vanity later that evening, but where he expects to see the little rectangular package sitting in its usual spot between his aftershave and the mouthwash, he finds nothing. Just an empty spot on the ledge, spotlit by the lack of dust. A clean square of white paint, undisturbed.

His jaw twinges. He wonders if you're hiding it from him, keeping it safe from his machinations, but then he finds it shoved in the drawer with his shaving kit, and the box of condoms he bought when you'd first started dating (for show, naturally—John had no intentions of using them and learned persuasion was your Achilles heel; that and you tended to get a little glossy-eyed whenever he growled filth in your ear, the smell of your cunt heavy on his breath).

The package is crinkled like you squeezed it tight in your little fist before you tossed it in.

You're always meticulous in the way you put things in their places. Even the junk drawer is organised, all neat.

This speaks volumes, but he's not quite sure what it says. They are still here, though. Accessible. One is missing from the pack. It dampens his mood.

He picks up his toothbrush, and runs through those calculations again to see how he can convince you to skip the one you're meant to take tomorrow. And the next day, and the next, and the next—

He stays awake as you sleep beside him, looking into how many days you can miss before your brand of birth control stops being effective.

Seven pills in a row.

He files it away, lost in thought.

The next morning, he leaves his phone open on the bedside table with the article pulled up. He kisses you awake before he leaves to shower, humming something soft under his breath.

When he returns, he finds you sitting up in bed with your knees drawn to your chest. There's something pensive about the look on your face. Paper soft, as though it would all blow away at a mere whisper.

You regard him almost cooly but something raw, fractured splits over the ravine. A waterfall of midnight black sludge rains down.

(He wonders if it tastes of the same rot, the same madness, as the basin of the untouched recesses of his head—)

“I'm working late tonight,” you murmur after a measured beat, and he can't place your tone. “Maybe we can watch a movie when I get home.”

John nods, and your eyes drop, scaling down his bare, broad chest as he breathes in the flint staining the air. Your gaze is white-hot when it bludgeons into him, feverish.

It doesn't take much beckoning at all to have him crawling toward you, towel ripped from his hips and thrown somewhere in the aether.

As he steals the madness from your tongue, his eyes flicker to the phone still sitting on the table. It looks perfectly untouched. The screen is off.

That, too, he files away.

John comes to the succinct conclusion that the only means he has in his arsenal to get what he wants—legally, and somewhat morally, anyway—is persuasion.

There's no recourse if he can water that burgeoning plant inside of you, make it seem like this is something you want, too. A family. With him.

(Only him.)

He knows that you see things quite similarly to him. Wherein love is desire. Desire is hunger. And there's nothing more profound to you than to eat the person you love alive. Consumption of every part—the good, the beautiful, the bad, the ugly, and the rotted: skin, fat, muscles, blood, and bones. All of it.

So, even if somewhere down the road you think you hate him for this, it'll be fine. He'll just consume that, too.

John Price is a tenacious man. Stubborn.

(Bullish, he hears around the barracks. Fuckin’ stubborn prick, too.)

It helps that this line of work is perfectly suited for such a peremptory drive to the finish line, no matter the cost. Utilitarian to a fault, despite his rather recalcitrant disposition. It's how he gets his way more often than not. Brutish dominance. Loutish suppression.

But a near reckless, suicidal loyalty that attracts the sort of beasts this line of work needs.

But that's work, not this. Not trying to convince you, his sugar-sweet (and viciously diabolical) lover, to bear the burden of giving him a family because society says it's uncouth (and illegal, morally reprehensible, villainous) for him to chain you to his bed to keep the darker parts of himself that want to rip into anyone who had the pleasure—pleasure that no longer belongs to them—of looking at you.

That's all for him.

(Nasty old bastard.)

And, of course, because he's ready. Everything clicks. Locks into place. There's no one else out there for him.

Really, though—it's your fault for prodding that beast in the first place. For letting inside your house, your bed. For thinking it could be tamed. And so. You should accept responsibility for it.

(Nasty, nasty—)

But just as much as you know him, he knows you. You'll give him a litany of reasons why this shouldn't happen, and none of them will be because this isn't what you want. It'll be filled with reasons why you think he doesn't.

And that simply won't do.

So, he plots. Plans.

The thing is. No one ever taught him how to hold things in his hands without crushing it.

He doesn't think he can be delicate. Gentle. There's no way to gently nudge you into this. No.

He'll convince you to yield the same way a tsunami convinces a house to move out of the way.

Buried to the hilt in your cunt, he growls gospels into your ear about this beautiful Shangri-la, this sprawling castle he has in Spain until you're clenching down around him tight, conditioning your body to come at the thought of swelling with his child. About letting his seed take root, letting him knock you up.

It's a crass image that he spits into your head—fuck you until it takes, love; breed this pretty cunt every day until you're fat and swollen—serves as the positive reinforcement to his classical conditioning. He'll turn you into one of Pavlov's mutts, salivating at the sound of him groaning into your ear as he fills your pussy up to the brim. He'll reshape you, change your wants until you only come around his cock when he's spitting his release against the plug of your womb.

And when you make to get up, letting all his spend slip from your sloppy cunt to take your pill, he pulls you closer under the guise of wanting to feel your body on his, murmuring diabolical compromises he has no intention of letting you see through.

“Later,” he rasps, pulling you closer. His mouth slots across your temple. “Just take it later, sweetheart. Later.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine.”

And, as if you'd been waiting for that reassurance, you melt into his hands, wet putty.

(you take the bloody pill later, and he adds that to his mental calendar, adjusting the maths. He supposes he’ll just have to try harder next time.)

John's desire for you is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and he schemes around his wandering hands, bullying into your messy cunt only moments before your alarm is meant to go off, reminding you to take your pill, reinforcing that irritating little wall that keeps his come from reaching your womb.

It goes off, but he hardly hears it over the roaring in his ears, the sweet, sweet litany of moans that slip out, staining the pillow with your pleasure. He just keeps fucking you through it, growling mindlessly into your ears about how badly he wants to come inside of you. His warnings, threats, about how close he is intertwining with your desperate begging for him to come, come inside me, John is the most beautiful harmonisation he'd ever heard, and it sews itself into his marrow, polluting the ugliness inside with a new, fresh hell for him to torture himself with. That delicious pleasure-pain that drives him mad—

He fills you up, palm pressed taut to your lower belly as he spits his virile release deep into your cunt. He can feel the heavy outline of his cock against your skin, stuffed full of him, and it's this—the way he moulds your body around him, cock visible through your flesh—that makes his eyes roll back into his head. Makes the urge to fuck, to breed, to claim bludgeon into him, shattering reason, logic. He wants to change you, irrevocably. Forever. To mar you with his touch, his essence.

“Mine,” he chokes out, ugly and raw. It's a mangled mess in his throat. A threat. “All fucking mine, aren't you, love? All mine—”

His words seem to throw you into another climax, cunt clenching greedily down around him as he softens inside of you, plugging you up. You liked that, he notes, purs. The notion brands itself across his resolve, reshaping it into something that would make anyone else recoil in fear, disgust.

But you preen at this creature that bares its fangs at you, snaps wicked teeth against your jugular. Fingers threading through its hair, shushing it, soothing it, as you pull it back into your embrace, head tucked against your chest. You lull it into complacency with the heavy thud of your heart, your sweet, earthy scent.

What a pair, he thinks, and clamps his hands around your wrist when you murmur something about taking your pill now. Need to take it before it gets too late, John—

He makes his move, distracts you with his mouth, his tongue.

“Just take it after,” he murmurs into your pussy, thighs bracketing around his head. His hands pull your waist down, pressing you harder against his mouth. “Later, love. It'll be fine—”

“But, John—”

The protest dies, turns to ash, when he grunts, sealing his lips around your clit, bullying it with the rasping press of tongue until you're arching your back, riding his face. Thoughts of your silly pill are gone, swallowed by him as you gush, drenching his mouth in your slick.

And after, when you make to get up again, he pulls you close instead, voice curling around you like smoke when he tells you to take it after.

“No, love. Stay in bed with me,” he peppers kisses to your cheek, your jaw, chin, sweetening his words, and folds you into the tight embrace of his arms. “Take it in the morning. It'll be fine to miss a day.”

You level him with something that shadows the ravines in your gaze with pure, unadulterated scepticism, but as he scouts the canyons, the valleys, the pretty craters that make up the composite of your eyes, he finds no discernible trace of wariness, uncertainty. The terse line in his shoulders ease.

But while fossicking around he unearths something else. Something a bit more enigmatic, calculative, than doubt. Equivocal, slippery, it runs from him when he tries to give chase, tucking itself back into the harsh tenebrous that shades the landscape.

He hums, wanting to ask, but you sigh in quasi-acquiescence, and burrow deeper into his embrace.

“Fine,” you huff, but he tastes a purring sense of satisfaction in the air. “I'll take it tomorrow instead.”

“Good girl.” The praise slips out, low and gritty, perfumed with his heavy greed.

You shiver against him. The hitch in your throat is quiet in the bedroom, but to him, it sounds like a gunshot.

John keeps meticulous track of the empty pill slots, and notes with a sticky, resinous sense of glee that the numbers are becoming muddled, skewed. Later becomes tomorrow, and your soft acquiesce has days skipped. Missed.

You can't double up, you huff to him, mournfully slinking into the bed. It's nearly one in the morning. Technically, a brand new day. I absolutely have to take it tomorrow, John. Make sure you remind me—

There's something pointed in your tone. Something oil-slick. He nods, bites back a grin.

“Sure,” he pulls you close, breathes in the sweet, loamy scent of you—sweat and sex and the lingering remnants of your perfume, your soap—and lets it stain his lungs. “I can do that.”

You say nothing at all when he doesn't bring it up until well past midnight the next day, offering little more than an exasperated groan, and a huffy roll of your eyes, as if this was just a missed dinner with friends and not a life-changing misstep.

(The beast purrs. He places his hand over his chest, and feels the rumble under his skin.)

“Need to be more responsible than this, John,” you say, squirming in his hold to try and rush to the washroom to take that pesky little pill.

“Sorry, love,” he offers, and means none of it. Clings tighter to you. “Got a bit carried away today, is all.”

“It's not your fault—” something curls out from a dark crevasse when you look at him. “I've been so—off lately, you know? Must be the new batch. Maybe I should call my doctor.”

He stills. Body tensing, coiling. John tries to speak, but the words are ash on his tongue. He clears his throat.

“Could stop taking it.”

It crackles in the air. Hangs heavy like a stormcloud.

You blink, stunned. But it's artificial, hollow. Pulled from a wicker basket where you keep all your different skins.

“You mean—what? Stop it all together—?”

You flit in the space once more, but it's less of an injured bird searching for an escape, he realises suddenly, and more of—

A boomslang.

One rearing up, searching for the perfect place to strike.

Wishful thinking, though, because you're flustered and skittish once more, a small prey animal he isn't sure what he wants to do the most—sink his teeth into you, tear you into pieces, and devour you whole, or hide you away from the world.

“I can look for something else in the meantime,” you sound shy, hesitant, and it prickles across his skin. “But we'd need to be careful, you know. Otherwise you might actually get me pregnant.”

He tries to swallow his groan. Chokes on it instead.

“Sure, sure—” he hacks into his palm. “Of course, love. We'll be safe. I'll pull out—”

Naturally, he doesn't. Makes no effort to even try despite promising you he is.

“Not my fault your pussy won't let go of me, love,” he grumbles, hand cupping your weeping sex in his palm. The heat of you is searing. Blistering. He thinks he could happily melt inside of it for the rest of his life, and leans down to whisper his devotion into your come-slicked folds, the bitter tang of you, of him, admixing on his tongue. An elixir he could drown in.

You huff at him after, all glossy-eyed and sex-drunk, and tell him to please try harder, John, I'll have to get plan b tomorrow—

You don't, but the threat of it, the possibility, lingers in the back of his mind, souring his thoughts.

Next time, and I'll have to, John, you say, featherlight, lips pressed against the head of his cock. A warning, a goddamn tease—

His voice is strained, pinched. “Of course, love,” and he guides your mouth back to his cock, letting the matter fall into pieces when you suck on the sensitive head, tongue licking, coy and kittenish, over his frenulum.

It's only later, when watches you swallow down his come, that the beast slinks out of the shadows, pocketing the fragments.

You're off birth control—barely any scheming words of whispered concern needed—but the idea of you taking a little pill to wipe away his efforts has him pulling back. Recalibrating his plans.

He decides on a different route to the same end.

Damnation at your own hand.

John, for his credit, does begin to pull out after that—albeit, with a great deal of agonised reluctance—and instead comes all over your pretty face.

With thick ropes of his pearlescent spend dripping down the apples of your heated cheeks, he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight more beautiful than this.

And one with more opportunity.

Slowly, he swipes at it with his thumb and then promptly brings it down, hard, on your clit. You flinch, mewling at the overstimulation, and the threat he brings so close to your raw, unprotected sex. It's dangerous. This thin line he dances along could snap at any moment. Could rain hellfire and fury over his broad shoulders, unmake all the progress he'd steadily built up.

He walks the precipice, anyway. He pulls his hand away, and brings two fingers up to curve over your cheeks. His thumb, stained with your slick and his come, slides across your bottom lip.

The pout you give him—all wet-eyed lachrymose—has his spent cock twitching against his sticky thigh. “Fuck, love. Gonna send me to an early grave if you keep starin’ at me like that.”

“You're cracked,” you slur around his thumb. In retaliation, he digs it into your tongue, and preens—full of nasty, gnarled satisfaction—when your eyes flutter, rolling into the back of your head at the taste.

With this brief distraction, he drops his come-stained fingers to your mound, and rubs along the swollen rim of your hole. Just touching, pressing. A tease, a whisper.

You tense. “John—” it's muffled around his thumb, and he isn't sure if it's a warning or a plea.

He pushes the tips in, barely to the first knuckle, and just pets around your rim.

It's a battle of wills, now. “No more than this,” he promises, and the undercurrent of his threat rents the air. Makes you bristle.

You always loved a challenge—especially coming from him.

“Just the tip?” You tease, spittle running down your chin. Your eyes are dark—midnight skies, ink black—and he's struck by the afterimage of himself in those pools. Made in the same image.

He grunts, slides into the first knuckle, and scissors them apart.

“John—” it's breathless. Your teeth spear his thumb, tight around his bone. He wants nothing more than to have you bite down hard, scar his bones with the gnawed meteors of your desire. Your desperation. “Fuck—please—”

You give in so prettily, and he barely has a moment to think about how quick it's been when you angle your hips, hand falling to grip his wrist tight as you slide down his fingers, all the way to the last knuckle.

You clench around him like a vice. A pretty bow. He fucks you with his fingers, meeting your shallow thrusts with ones of his own, slamming viciously into your pussy as he coos adorations into your ear.

With his other hand, he reaches down and fists himself over your bare mound, pressing the tip against your clit where it weeps prespend over your flesh. His thumb sweeps across what spills out, dragging it back down to your sopping hole, pushing it inside.

It's probably not enough to reach your womb, to get you pregnant, but he clings to that tantalising fantasy as he drills his fingers into you until you come, breathlessly begging him to fuck you harder, to fill you up—

He isn't even fucking you with his cock, and you still beg him for it.

John pushes the tip into your slit, fingers still buried deep inside of your throbbing pussy, and groans with the force of his release. It makes him dizzy, almost nauseous with it, filling his head with nothing but the sweet, wounded sound of your moans filling the room, and the wet squelch of his fingers pulling out of you.

When he catches the threads of cognisance in his fingers once more, he leans back on his haunches, chest heaving, and brands the messy sight of your pussy fluttering, clenching around nothing, as his spend drips down your slit, over your hole, and pools in the sheets below.

He's not sure if heaven exists, but he knows the sight of you, breathless and whimpering on his bed, is the closest a man like him will ever come to seeing it.

The push-pull of this little game stretches on.

Price likes to see just how far he toe the line before you're whimpering into the sheets, telling him don't, John, don't come inside me, I'm not anything, John—and he's ripping himself away from the tight clutch of your wet, hot cunt, and coming all over you.

The illicit tease of barely pulling out in time, and then scooping up the mess he makes on your face, your breasts, your belly, your ass, lower back, thighs, and spooning it into your pussy until it's a fixture in your bedroom ritual.

And maybe it's the threat of it all, of playing such a dangerous game, seems to cudgel under his skin the most, ripping apart the thin veneer of that man he once pretended to be—righteous and good—shedding it off with each hiccupped gasp you make when he presses his come-slicked fingers inside of you, murmuring guttural words of affection in the shape of impish mockery (want it bad, don't you, sweet thing; so fuckin’ greedy for it, love—).

He likes it the most when he can fuck you stupid on his fingers. Cockdrunk, and come-starved (because you are, of course; he hasn't come inside of your cunt in weeks, and doesn't miss the mournfully pitiful whines you give when he pulls out, depriving you of the pleasure of feeling him come inside you), you're too blissed out, swimming in pleasure, to think about what he's doing.

In fact, he doesn't really give you much of a chance to think at all.

The next few weeks are filled with him fucking you each night brutally, viciously, snarling low in your ear about how bad he wants to come in you, stuff you full, and then keep you plugged up all night with his cock that it takes, and then pulling out right before, committing the sight of your betrayed expression to memory where it'll sit like a trophy when you finally break.

You make an appointment with your gynaecologist, and circle the date on his calendar.

John notes it down. Tucks it away.

And then he amps up the pressure.

John's fingers root behind your knees, pushing your thighs apart as he settles between them. His gaze drills into your bare cunt, slick and wet, and so ready for him. Eager for it.

He'd counted the days, and knows that if there's ever the absolute worst time to have unprotected sex, to come inside of you, is now.

Which, of course, means he has to. The clause in that is ironclad. Apodictic.

“Bit dangerous,” he rasps, and lifts your leg up, resting your ankle on his shoulder. You fluster beneath him, panting and pretty, and fuck—he’s not pulling out of your pussy tonight at all. “Should I pull out?”

It's a tease. A test.

He reaches down as he says the words, gripping his cock and bringing it down against your wet heat. The bare, blunt head of his cocks slaps against your clit, and you arch, keening. Nails bite into the thick muscles of his biceps, and he leans into the sharp sting. Letting it ground him. Centre him.

This will be your cacoëthes.

He's been depriving you for weeks, and John knows that you're wanting for it. Desperate. The little twitches your hips give, as if begging him to fill you up, are proof enough of how much you want this.

This. The dream he dripped into your ears, hot oil congealing over your frontal lobe; infectious and thick. You can try to chisel it off, but the pollution is already damning. Ruining.

You want this. He wears the axiom like armour.

And you beg for it—eyes shaded in gut wrenchingly beautiful lachrymose—and John snuffles closer, inching the weeping head of his cock into your tight, warm heat.

The sight of splitting you open is something he never grows tired of. Something that, without fail, makes his balls ache. His chest thrum. Blood turns to ichor. To wine. He's drunk on the contrast made between you—a garish chiaroscuro of your pretty pussy, soft and sickly sweet—almost nauseatingly so—swallowing down the fat, girthy length of his cock. The thick streams of veins running along the flushed, heavy shaft against your puffy, soft folds is almost hideous. Sinful. He can't equate it to anything else except corruption. The horrific beast sullying the princess.

And fuck—

The thought alone makes him throb.

He's sullied you plenty, he reckons, and yet you always look so sweet. Especially now, when your rim is stretched taut around the thick of him, pussy squeezing, clenching around him in a vice, as if you weren't sure to push him out or pull him deeper.

John decides for you. Opting instead to push your knees down to your chest, nearly brushing your ears, and follows with the bulk of his body until he feels your breath rush out of your lungs. You struggle for a moment, gasping wetly into his ear as his weight—every bearish pound of it—rests on you in the perfect mating press. Your bite into his biceps, keening prettily into his ear as he bullies the full length of his cock into you. Spears you open. Splits you apart.

He can feel you gush around him, drenching his groin and thighs with your slick.

Like this—chest to chest, forced to breathe in the same air, the same madness—he likes to just stare at you, taking in the heat simmering under your skin, the sweat beading along your temple, the pinch in your brow as you struggle to adjust to the sheer width of him cudgelling you open. A battering ram you're forced to make room for.

He takes it all in, each flicker of emotion, each heaving gasp. Burns it into his memory. Lets it soften the iron around his heart. Keeps it there, nestled in the cradle of his limited love, held aloft by indelicate, bearish hands. This sweet thing.

He can't wait to ruin it.

If these weeks leading up to this were lovemaking, fucking, then this, this, is mating. Animalistic. Primal. He pushes in as deep as he can, until the tip kisses the ripened seal of your womb, and grinds his hips cruelly into the cradle of your thighs.

Your nails leave bloodied indents in his flesh. A scar he'll proudly bear the mark of. A tattoo of the time when he turned you into something new.

His balls are soaked. The sheets, too. He mocks you for it, a rasping growl lodged deep in his throat, taunting you about how fucking wet you are for him. How badly you need it.

“Gotta plug you up, hm?” He grunts, and sets a pace that serves only to accentuate the sloppy, messy squelch of your cunt.

His cock pistoning into you, alternating between deep, full thrusts that knock the air from your lungs, and heavy, slow plunges meant to badger the blunt head of his cock against your walls.

You seem to like it best when he shifts his weight between each thigh, content to just grind into you. Make you feel every inch of him. You cling to him, yowling in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love this, love his cock—

The thick bed of wry, umber curls on his chest, stomach, and groin grow slick with sweat from the intensity of it all, from the shared heat. Pressed tight against you, he feels every quiver. Every flinch. Each moan is made known in a slight reverberation across his skin before he hears it.

Drenched in sweat, glued to you as he fucks you into the mattress, John feels very much like the beast making a house out of a twisted whim in his head. Feverish, sick, he drives into you with the single minded goal of filling that home up with three. Then four. Five—

As many as you'll let him.

And he almost loses himself to that thought alone. Dancing sugar plums that make his balls tighten. He stems the flood by pulling out of you, letting his heavy cock slap against your sticky, soaked cunt as he heaves into your hairline, sucking in the heady loam, the humus, of your scent.

The whimper you make when he pulls out of you sounds like a wounded animal, and the noise tickles across his hindbrain. His jaw aches. He bites down on a snarl as you thrash against him, mindless with the need to have him inside of you. It brings a nasty, vicious curl to the ends of his mouth, and he doesn't even bother trying to tamper it down. John lifts his head and lets you see his foaming muzzle, drooling with thick globes of saliva.

“Stay still,” he growls, low and dangerous. It's as much of a warning as it is a command, and the way you react, tensing, coiling tight—the flash of unease. Shock. And then the need. Achy, heavy. He feels it against his jugular when you shiver, moaning his name into the space between you where it reeks of desperation.

To soften the submissive tremble in your jaw—and maybe to temper down the challenging talons sharpening in your gaze—he nuzzles his cheek against yours, peppers wet kisses to your skin. He licks across your jaw, bites down on your flesh.

He tastes salt and sin on your skin.

(His eyes roll so far back into his skull he thinks he might get lost.)

“Gonna cum on your pretty cunt if you don't stop squirming, love.”

And John loves you most for your waspish intelligence—the ire smouldering in your throat. The way you bite back just as hard, never afraid to bear teeth when he snarls. He doesn't think he could ever love someone too soft—not without tearing them to pieces. To shreds.

But you wear plush, tender conchoidal skin over jagged, rough obsidian. He'll ruin himself if he ever tries to rip you apart.

Like this, though—you melt.

All that keen, vicious intelligence snuffed out. His scheming Cleopatra tamed on his cock.

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, urging him closer to your sex. “Come on, John, just fuck me, fuck me already—”

(Tamed, though, perhaps being a misnomer.)

He huffs into your neck. “Impatient little quean.”

It gets him a sharp bite to the tip of his ear, and the floor roars so loudly in his veins, he gets dizzy from it.

“Fuck—”

He's pressing back into you again, into your warm, tight heat, and it's nirvana kissing his nerves. Liquifying his spine. He rolls into you with a weighted groan, buried to the hilt once more.

But even with the respite, he knows he won't last.

John needs you fucked stupid, docile and soft just for him, and sets out to do just that. Pounding into you with a spiteful twist of his hips that he knows will leave you a little sore, and tender tomorrow. But the idea of spreading your puffy, achy folds apart and soothing the slight hurt with his tongue for hours until you're sobbing into the cushions quells any hesitation that rears, begging him to slow down.

Go easy on your pretty cunt.

(As if.)

John batters into you until your eyes glaze over, and your chin, cheeks, smear with drool. Until the challenge in midnight black melts into submission. Docile, and malleable. Perfect for him to mould. Shape.

Reshape.

He glues to you, touch starved and tactile, and basks in the liquid heat that blooms from deep within you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he snarls, broken by the heave in his chest as he fucks into you, starved. “Gotta pull out, love—”

You're gripping him tighter, anchoring him to your body. You haven't come yet. Something he dangles in front of you like a threat.

He watches the slow crawl of realisation crest over your messy face, and thinks he falls just a little bit more in love with you at the sight of your little pout.

Loves, even more, the way it breaks apart when he pounds into you harder, viciously, watching drool dribble off your chin, and reason leak from your ears—

“Please, John—” the sound of your whimpering has him grunting, head dizzy with the saccharine sweet taste of it on his tongue. “Please, please—come inside me. I–I want you to–to fill me up—”

“Yeah?” He taunts, mean and breathless. “Want me to come inside your sloppy cunt? Dangerous, ain't it? Jus’ might take, sweet thing. Is that what you want?”

You're howling a litany of sin into his ear, desperation drenches each clamour of his name, each orison uttered, begging him to come, to fill you up, and then—

“Fuck—I want it so bad—” his head is filled with static. Whitenoise. “Want it to take, John—”

He comes inside of you, cock pulsing so hard it feels like a sob. Filling you up. Wishing on all the stars that it takes—

As a reward for your good behaviour, he spreads you out over the sheets, and growls his approval into your sopping pussy, drenching himself with the taste, the smell, of you, promising to wear it like a perfume so everyone knows how good you are for him. Him, alone.

(His, his, his—)

When you come, you nearly smother him, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of nirvana in baby soft yellow before he's pulled back by your shaking hands brushing the hair off his sweat-slicked forehead.

“Are you okay, John—”

He rolls you under him, fucking into your drenched pussy like a man starved. That tantalising vision glues itself to his hindbrain, so close he can scent the fresh dew of fresh milk, and warm bread in his nose. Feel the bump of your stomach.

He's almost angry about it, about being ripped away from that dream, and takes his aggression out on your sloppy, leaking cunt. The way his come trickles out, staining the mattress below and the back of your thighs has him growling darkly into your nape.

“Keep it in,” he snarls, words sharpened on the whetstone of his need. “Keep it all inside, love.”

“Ah, John, John—” something falls from your split-slicked lips, and his fingers bite into your hips. Punishment for the slurred backtalk.

“I'll spank your ass if any of it leaks out—”

It does. Of course it does.

He bends you over his knee, and slaps his broad, rough palm over each cheek ten times before deliriously shoving two thick fingers into your sloppy cunt, stuffing his come back inside your tender, swollen hole, rough and mean, as you howl, squirming in his lap about how you promise you'll be good next time, John, please—I'll keep it all in, I swear, I—

“You fuckin’ better, love.” He groans, and thinks about cumming on your messy face, all slick with sweat, and drool, but decides against it. A waste, he thinks, and leans over you to shove the thick, twisting length of his angry cock inside you to the hilt just spit his release against your seal once more.

“That was…” You're still panting against his chest, eyes dazed, and body laxed. Melted wax over his chest. “Intense,” you settle on after a beat.

There's a hiccup in your breath when he hums, chest rumbling with the sound.

“Mm, but you liked it, didn't you?”

Of course you did. Of course. The evidence of it is drying, tacky and slick, on his groin, his thighs.

You burrow into his side, peeking at him from over the thick bed of wry curls that clot over his chest. “You're fucking me like you haven't in years, John. Makes me wonder if you have an agenda.”

He considers your words. The weight of them. Wonders just how much you've clued into, but huffs when he catches the same look in your eyes as the one reflected in his own.

Cheeky little—

“Can't I just want to fuck you? Not everything has to be about schemes, love.”

The oil of his lies, the sticky resin of his evasion makes you huff into his skin.

In all his meticulous planning, he'd picked up several books on this particular topic, and scoured every available, reputable, site he could find. John knows what to look out for by now, and keeps a keen eye on you—one that very quickly dips into obsessiveness, but you're kind enough to call it overbearing.

Jesus Christ, John, why are you asking me how many times I pissed today?

He just needs to wait things out.

But rather irritatingly, he's called away overseas for the next week.

Ah, well. He'll have to try harder next time.

He arrives in Heathrow mid-morning, and follows Laswell into the office. There's a mountain of reports to fill out—things that, rather irritatingly, require his signature—and resolves to spend the rest of the day hunched over at his desk, even though there's an itch in the back of his skull demanding he go home.

It is always like this, though—both the post-mission ritual of banal paperwork that seems almost comical considering what he'd just done, and the undeniable urge to flee back into the sanctuary of your shared home.

His bones ache for it.

Laswell huffs when he lingers by the exit, and he swallows a groan.

While he was away, you'd been silent. Moreso than usual.

Where he'd have expected an update on what was going on—the mundanity of your life that he clings to when the beast in his head whets its talons a little too sharp, digs into a little too deep—you’ve gone silent. Not radio. Not completely. But the information you give is sparse. Cagey.

You don't tell him about the visit to the gynaecologist, offering nothing but a quiet hum into the receiver, all blase and nonchalant, and a simple, equivocal: “good.”

He tucks it away, lets the matter drop.

If he timed things correctly—barring your impish prevarication aside—then something will begin to show soon. You would have mentioned something. Some nominal change to your physical well-being, but when pried, pressed, you huff.

“I'm good, John. When are you coming home, anyway?”

He raps his knuckles on his desk, still smarting from the punches he'd thrown recklessly this past week, too keyed up to let his anger simmer instead of boil, and thinks. About you. About this.

A week isn't a lot of time—he’s been called away for months in the past—but this feels like it's lingering. Time stretched and distorted. Elongated. And a part of him feels chipped, fractured after touchdown.

It wasn't as if this particular assignment was any more, or less, dangerous than the ones he went on before. If anything, it was comparatively mild. Muted. He honed into his training, and did his goddamn job. And yet—

Yet.

You lived in the spaces he occupied. The air he breathed. The water he drank.

He brought you with him, something he's never, ever, done before. Perched pretty on his shoulder, he heard your voice in his head with every step he took, every radio call.

But it was hallucinatory. Chimerical. You weren't there, you were here, but the problem lies in the lack of a divide that usually bifurcates the world into two fractions: his job and you.

It eats at him.

He brought you where he's never taken anyone before. Never let them in.

His thoughts were asunder. Pulled in all directions, but the centre was always you. His compass pointing north. He wants you. Needs you. His whole being has been recalibrated with the needle aimed toward you.

An alert on his phone shakes him from his reverie.

He reaches for it, slides his hand across the lockbar. The notification pops up. A message from his bank.

His card—the one he gave you, the one you've used all of once to buy a chocolate bar when he gruffly, surely, complained about you not spending his money—has been used.

Curious now, he opens his app, eyes scanning the threadbare purchases—all mostly interest fees and service charges, bar one. It was recently used at a drugstore for under twenty dollars.

He doesn't know what this means, what you're playing at. He makes to text you, but he gets an email next.

Thank you for your purchase; here is your e-receipt.

His heart does something strange in his chest. Turns in on itself. Goes all askew.

Not only are you using his card, you're using his account, too. He clicks it, eyes scanning through the purchases (only two), and blinks.

A card, and—

His want takes the shape of a hand, presses against his jugular.

—a pregnancy test.

He knew when he started this game that this was, of course, the inevitable outcome, but having it here, right in front of him—in that sneaky, noncommittal way you always do things; behind his back, and in the dark, like you enjoy watching him try and sniff out the truth—has his belly knotting up. Churning.

A pregnancy test.

Fuck—

(and out of all the ways to tell him, you cheeky little—)

He's up out of his chair before he's even aware that he's standing.

“Laswell,” he gets out, and can't be sure how his voice is so measured when his head is being shredded into pieces. “I'm out for the rest of the day. This whole bloody week, too—”

“Something bad happen?”

His hands shake when he pulls his jacket on, slips his car keys into his hands. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm going to be a father. A bloody dad—”

It's on that sentiment when his voice breaks. Shatters. He clears his throat, blinks furiously. Fuck. Fuck. It's happening—

Shangri-la sits in his fist, taking the shape of an e-mailed receipt.

In his periphery, he sees Simon's head come up. Watching him. Measured.

Laswell, too, eyes him with a degree of wariness. He supposes to them this means the end of everything.

She breathes in. “Tuscany would be my choice.”

“Oh?” He tears his eyes away from the screen, gracing her with a steady, unflinching look. “Was thinking something a bit more local. Liverpool.”

It gets a scoff, one full of disgust. “She'll divorce you within the year.”

“I'm having a baby, Laswell. Not getting married.”

“Oh, no?” It's a challenge. “I seem to recall something about someone being a proper gentleman, or was that just the lie you told your unofficial missus?”

“We'll get married. That's not up for debate—” an intern makes an alarmed face, like perhaps it ought to be. Had he not been holding nirvana in his hand, he might be a bit more cautious with his madness. Too bloody bad. “Wherever she wants—Tuscany, Udaipur, fucking Siberia. I don't care. What I’m a bit more concerned with is my expectant wife.”

“Soon-to-be,” she volleys, just because she knows it's the sort of thing that will itch under his skin.

“Already is, Laswell.” He gripes, flat. “Or damn near close to it.”

“If she knows what's good for her, she'll say no.”

“Lucky me, then, that she doesn't.”

Lucky him, indeed.

On his way out, Ghost utters a heated congratulations to him, and John can see his gaze is absent. Turned inward, mind whirring. Reeling. He can hear the gears grind from where he stands, and if the ink-black madness in his lieutenant’s drifting, pensive eyes means much of anything, then John sends a silent hail mary to whatever unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog.

Well. It's not really his problem. Until it is. Until it becomes one. But since it's not something that'll impact him in the next five minutes, he tucks it away. “Thanks.”

He doesn't linger. Doesn't, really, even remember the ride home, head buzzing with thoughts that keep twisting around themselves, driving him mental. Things like, is it real? what if you were joking. what you weren't?

Oh, fuck—

You better not be.

But you wouldn't. You're conniving and wily, but you're not cruel.

This is happening, then.

You've been playing house with matches inside of a tinderbox. He shouldn't be surprised when it all goes up in flames, in smoke, but as he walks through the door, and glimpses the pregnancy test perched innocently on the counter beside a card—congrats, daddy (and the caricature of a man in a pinstripe suit nearly makes him gag)—he feels all the maligned pieces inside of crack.

It shifts—

You walk out, hand cupped protectively over your lower belly. Eyes gleaming like a wild cat crouched low in the tussocks surrounding the savannah, watching him an eager sense of anticipation, excitement, and just the slightest edge of what he can only imagine the unfortunate mate of a black widow sees before it's consumed. Spare parts.

It thrums inside of him. Ignites this wicker basket he calls a heart until it's cinder. Ash. Soot. He breathes it in. Tastes you on his tongue.

John doesn't have the words. Can't think beyond the steady brag of his burning heart.

His. His.

—and then it all falls into place.

Yours.

He dotes on you with an almost unhinged devotion, murmuring stilted, gruff words of muted affection into the shallow bump on your belly. Ones that you, politely, pretend not to hear.

A new bedtime ritual, one he adheres to with an almost obsessive need.

Until it becomes too much.

“Go and get my prenatal vitamins from the washroom, please. I just need five minutes without you smothering me, you stupid bear of a man.”

“You love it,” he grumbles, but acquiesces, giving your small, barely there bump a pat. “I'll be back soon.”

“Oh, no… please take your time.”

Despite the prickle in your tongue, your eyes are soft. Warm. Melting him just a little more.

John pulls away, and doesn't even pretend the reluctance to be apart is feigned.

“It's in the drawer,” you call, voice stretched. Echoing. “Next to your shaving cream.”

He pulls the drawer open, scanning the contents briefly, before finding the purple bottle in the back. Why you chose here of all places to put the bloody things—

His knuckles knock against the old box of condoms, tipping it over. There's a strange rattle as it falls, and his brows furrow at the noise.

Curiously, he reaches for it. Shakes it as he picks it up. The same sounds spill out. He pops the flap of the box open, peering inside, and—

A gruff chuckle crackles in his throat.

Inside the old box of condoms—the ones he never bothered to throw out, or use—is an accumulation of all the pills you'd meant to take.

His jowls ache. He rubs at his jaw with his hand, and feels the skittish patter of his heart thudding out of his skin. Madness in his veins.

John closes the drawer with his knee, and then tosses the box of condoms in the bin, leaving it for you to find later when you're inevitably wracked by another wave of morning sickness. A little shred of vindication for this little game you made him play.

Though he supposes turn-about is fair play, and the number of pills in the box is less than the months he spent scheming for this vision of his.

In the back of his head, the beast purrs.

“Do we need to play these games again for the next one,” he rasps. “Or can I just fuck you until it takes.”

You blink at him, wide and owlish. Full of faux innocence as you coax the beast out of hiding. “I don't know what you're talking about, John.”

More games, then. He thinks he might crack open your ribcage and rest his weary head on the frantic beat of your heart.

“Mm, don't know what I'd do without you,” he says, guns aching. He reaches for the pack of gum (no smoking around the baby or you'd toss him off the balcony), and pops a spearmint into his mouth. “Might live longer, I reckon, but—”

Your elbow digs into his side. “You sure about that?”

He just kisses your crown in response, and places his heavy, scarred hand over the curve of your belly. The beast inside purrs, content for now. Satiated.

When he looks into your midnight eyes, he finds your own beast slumbering away.

A match made in a tinderbox, he guesses, and kisses you until you're dizzy. His very own Shangri-la sitting pretty inside his bed, nestled in the castle in Spain you helped him build.

Will help him fill.

#this was supposed to be posted earlier but i was too busy watching dead meat #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #this was a) not thought out and b) def not edited #Unhinged John Price is my roman empire #call of duty fics #cod fics #captain john price smut

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darnell-la · 3 months ago

Note

please give me nasty ass hate sex with Logan in the xmansion turns out he’s a dick but one with feelings for you and you matched his energy and he got pissy and upset then confessed after hate sex xx

note: aggressive Logan might be the best Logan.

———

“Knew I should’ve rode with Scott,” y/n said as she leaned back in Logan’s passenger side seat to look out of the window. Logan’s known for driving for a good five minutes before saying something he knew she didn’t want to hear.

“I’m just askin’ why the fuck you’re so hooked on that man. Ain’t he with Jean?” Logan asked, making y/n scoff. “Yes, Logan — That’s why we’re not dating! We barely talk, only as friends. Jesus!”

“Don’t seem like friends when you’re giggling and grabbing the man,” Logan shrugged his shoulders as he kept his eyes on the dark long road. “We’re just friends, and Jean is around us all the time,”

“Aren’t you the one who tried getting at her while she was with Scott!? And you’re fuckin’ talkin' about me — the ignorance,” y/n rolled her eyes as the man’s grip on his steering wheel tightened.

“That was long before you got here. Over her now,” Logan said, making y/n laugh. “Yeah, or maybe you’re shitty because a woman finally didn’t want you over a sweeter guy,” y/n pouted in his face for a few seconds before leaning back into her seat again.

“I get what I want, alright? There was just no need to try with her. Too much work,” Logan said. God, y/n hated him. He hated Scott more for making her ride with Logan to get some talk time in.

“Yeah, of course it was. Bet I could get her before you,” y/n said, only wanting to make the man mad, and it did. “You already slut for Scott, so how about you get him,” his tone was stern.

“I don’t slut for him! Like, are you jealous or some shit? Let’s be for real, because you always have something to say about the man and me. Everyday day!”

“Jealous!? Yeah, you fuckin’ wish I was jealous of someone like Scott. Anything he has, I can get,” Logan scoffed, really thinking he could. “Where is Jean then?” Y/n asked as she turned towards him, with a fake confused face.

“Where the fuck is she then? Because she ain’t here,” y/n said. “Can you just shut the fuck up,” Logan said low, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid eye contact with the young lady.

“No, I wanna know where the anything he has, I can get, is at,” y/n continued, making the man’s blood from her smart mouth. “Where Logan!?” Y/n yelled at him.

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan took his eyes off of the road and leaned towards y/n speaking through his teeth and tone sounding like a growl. Y/n shrugged her shoulders with a roll in her eyes before sitting back in the passenger seat.

“That’s fuckin’ it,” Logan slammed on the brakes before putting the car in part. The angry man exited his vehicle, slammed the door behind him, and walked around the back to get to y/n.

Y/n was confused, not thinking he would leave her out there, so she just assumed he got out to cool down. Y/n laughed low, thinking she finally got the man before her door swung open.

“Get the fuck out,” Logan cussed as he grabbed y/n by her forearm. “Hey, get the fuck off of me!” Y/n shouted as she tried pulling back, but the man was strong, leaving her door open and dragging her around to the front of his car.

Logan slammed y/n’s upper body on top of the hood, making her cry out from the short pain. The way he handled her was rough, but she wanted to act rough, right? So she’ll get it.

“Get the fuck off of me, you dumb bitch!” Y/n called the man out of her name, making him grab the back of her neck to pull her up then slam her back into the hood.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, and ima ruin it,” Logan threatens the girl, making her keep quiet but she kept fighting, wiggling and kicking under him.

“That’s what I thought. Keep quiet, bitch. Always runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth like you don’t got a hole to fill,” Logan had his cock pulled over his jeans and belt. Now he’s tugging at her x men suit he refuses to wear.

“L-Logan-“ y/‘ tried saying, but he did the same as last time, slamming her onto his hood. “You tell me what to do one time, and ima hurt you, and ion think a pretty girl like you wants that, don’t you?” Logan had brought his claws out next to her face to intimidate her, and it worked.

She wasn’t scared of the man. Not one bit. She just knew how angry he could get, and that he was too strong to not get what he was shooting for her.

“Telling me I don’t get what Scott gets. You think you’re fuckin’ hard to get? Huh!? You think your little whore ass is hard to stuff and impress?”

“Oh, Bub, you gotta be dumb as fuck if you think you ain’t. All I gotta do is stuff this pretty little thing, then treat you right. Give you money, gifts, and massages,” Logan leaned down towards the girl's heart as he dragged his fingers across her now exposed pussy.

“Bet you want that, don’t you, baby? I don’t mind. Don’t mind keepin’ you to myself so I don’t have to see that bastard hands all over you again,”

Logan pushed to fingers into the girl, curling instantly to get a reaction out of her, and he did. A good one that he’s dreamt of hearing.

“Knew you wanted me. Just look at how much you’re clenching my fingers,” Logan teased as y/n shifted on the hood of his car, trying her best to keep in her moans or show how good this felt, but she failed.

“It’s okay, baby — Don’t gotta feel embarrassed. Been smellin’ this pussy for months when you’re around me. Wet as a fuckin’ waterpark. So fuckin’ wet,” Logan groaned at the smell he’d been secretly sniffing at for forever.

“P-Please, stop that,” y/n begged, feeling him curl in the best places he could ever curl in. He knew where she needed it, which made this whole situation seem more hot to her.

“Why? Gonna cum? Thought you hated me. Now you’re gonna leak on my fingers. So fuckin’ pathetic,” Logan growled in the girl's ear, pressing his body on her to give her a better feeling.

“Cum for me, y/n — Cum so I can stuff you with my cock. Been hard ever since your sexy ass stepped in my car. Always smellin’ so fuckin’ good,” Logan sniffed the girl's neck, making her whine at the thought of Logan being that obsessed with her.

Y/n couldn’t hold anything back anymore. She came around his fingers with a loud and broken moan, hearing his own grunting in her ear. He was getting off on making her feel good.

“Ah huh — My good girl soakin’ my fingers for me. So fuckin’ good for me,” Logan pulled his fingers out of her and then sucked on them, licking every inch with an eye roll. She tasted amazing.

“For a bitch, you do taste good,” Logan said, calling her out of her name to get a reaction, and he did. Y/n lifted her body to turn around and swing, but he quickly slammed her back on his car with a chuckle.

“You worm stronger than me, baby girl. Gonna have to take my mouth for a few more minutes,” she could hear the smirk on his face, and she hated it. She hated him, but god were his fingers magical.

Before y/n could think of anything to say or do, Logan squeezed his cock in her hole, pushing and stretching her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s up, baby? To much? Too much cock to talk back to me?” Logan asked as her cries cracked. She felt pressure in her stomach. He was huge, and he knew that. He’s always wanted to watch her take him.

“C’mon, baby, talk back. Call me a bitch. Say I can’t get a woman to save my life. Say I can’t get you. Tell me you’re not easy, and I’ll pull out of this leaky cunt,” Logan said, knowing she wouldn’t and couldn’t say anything.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Keep that fuckin’ mouth shut from now on, or I’ll tear you just like this in front of the crew,” Logan told no lie. He was an animal, and marking what was his was what he was best at.

“Yeah, I know, baby. So fuckin’ big. Gonna give you this every day. Train you to take my cock, and my cock only. I’ll know when you’ve been a whore. I’ll know if you let Scott touch you,”

“And let me tell you if he does. If he does, y/n, I swear to god, I’ll fuck the mutant outta you. I’ll make you a brain-dead human. Make you so fuckin’ dumb on my cock, he won’t even want you anymore. Only I will,”

Logan tugged y/n’s hair, making her back arch and her ear meet his mouth. “Gonna breed this lil girl, then take you back to my room. You’re around me twenty-four seven, now. You ride with me, and me only. I catch this pretty ass on Scott’s motorcycle, and I’ll fuckin’ claw it off,”

Logan couldn’t stop threatening y/n. He wanted her to know she belonged to him, and no one else. After he stuck his cock in, he was going to make her know that. This was finally a time to mark her.

“Mhm hm — So good. So so good,” Logan whispered in the brisk ear as his cock twitched. Y/n whined, knowing he was close. Before she could tell him to pull out, he began filling her up.

Y/n cried low, scared of what he just did, but at the same time, he seemed like he was going to do anything to make her keep it. The way he talked to her and handled her like she’s been his forever, made the situation feel better.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed out as he let y/n’s hair go and leaned on her back, cum still spilling in her as her walls clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Logan said, this time in a different done. In a more what did I do tone. “Fuck, y/n,” Logan pulled out of the girl and fixed himself up quickly, feeling his heartbeat raise.

“Y/n, we gotta- I- Fuck, I don’t know what I just did,” he admitted. “Shit,” Logan pulled y/n off of his car hood slowly before turning her around to rest and a more comfortable way.

“You still here, baby?” Logan asked, hands rubbing her cheek to comfort her. “Mhm hm,” she mummed, making him smile slightly. “Good. Thought I lost you for a second,” he chuckle.

“Wanna go back to my room to rest? Kinda had a long, uh, long ride?” He said. “Wanna go to my room. Scott was supposed to meet me-“ Y/n cut herself off with a laugh, watching his face drop.

“That shit ain’t funny,” Logan said as she kept laughing. “You ain’t goin’ back to your room. As a matter of fact, I’m moving your shit to mine,” Logan pulled y/n off of the car and guided her back to the passenger seat.

“I was just playing, Logan. When I say me and him are friends, I mean it,” y/n assured the man. “Don’t care,” Logan shut the door in her face before going back to his driver's seat.

“Logan,” y/n said as he got in the car silently. The man ignored her and started the car, upset Scott’s name was brought up in any way. He hated that. He only wanted his name to roll off of her tongue.

“Logan,” y/n leaned over to him to rest her head on his shoulder. “Don’t think that’s gonna work, Bub,” Logan said, face on the road with no emotion.

“Mhmkay,” the girl lifted her head up to lean back in her seat, but Logan stopped her with his right hand and pulled her back. “Ian says you can move though,” he said, making her laugh.

Logan chuckled before placing a kiss on her forehead, not knowing how he got here, but he knew it was right. He knew this little thing he’d been having towards her was just some middle school love.

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satoruhour · 11 months ago

Text

AY ! SPANK IT.

a/n: had to physically hold myself back from not doing any lore. i failed (for gojo’s at least). enjoy / tagging my babies @redskyvenus @suguella @satorena @screampied @jabamin @marimogf @osaemu @ryovie

wc: 3.5k

warnings: sp*nking for all (i cheated on gojo’s part but we don’t talk bout that), fem!reader, gojo is older than in the series (late 30s), semi-public oral (m! receiving), deep throating, he’s a little rough, a stranger listens in (gojo), implied multiple rounds, unprotected p -> v sex, (geto), implied multiple rounds, fingering, clit stimulation, pussy slaps, unprotected p -> v sex (nanami), you ask soft dom!toji to be rougher, implied multiple rounds, face slapping, unprotected p -> v sex (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

your mind’s racing. that’s the only thing you can focus on, and maybe also the fact that gojo looks absolutely dashing in the suit he bought, taking you out for a whole day of shopping just because he can, so you got yourself a dress that goes all the way to the floor while he had another suit to add to the collection. it was so terrible, too, because you’re at utahime’s wedding dinner and all you can think about is getting to your knees to suck him off.

“need somethin’?” gojo whispers with hand clasped over yours, voice softer than usual. he’s grown much into his age, now well into his late 30s and you have to physically hold yourself back every waking hour. his way of living is a tad bit softer and tender when it comes to you.

you swallow, “i might ruin the mood.”

gojo laughs and it’s got your cunt throbbing, “nothing you say could ruin the mood, baby.”

sparing a glance towards utahime and her wife, you feel a little bad that you’re going to do what you’re going to do, but it’s only the fourth course and the band on stage is kinda shit. so you’re standing and pulling on his wrist, excusing yourself from the table of sorcerers that already have an inkling of your imminent activities; you even think you can hear nanami sigh.

“where’re we goin—” gojo’s surprised by your eagerness and the quickness in which you say shut it, navigating the second floor of the hotel and even making the effort to head to the bathroom further from the function room. he grins in recognition.

wordlessly, you’re shoving him into the men’s bathroom because you’re past your senses and you don’t care any more, walking your husband back into a stall. there’s a shocked yelp from the occupied stall beside you but you hardly give a shit, locking the door and crashing your lips against satoru’s.

“so eager,” he whispers against your lips, gasping into your mouth when you squeeze his bulge. you waste no time palming it, kissing down his jaw just for a little tease and making your bluish-black mark on his neck before you’re dropping to your knees and fumbling with his belt. you can’t look up at your husband’s piercing eyes because you know you’d cower in shame at your sex-crazed surge, but you do anyway and you only melt further into the floor.

you’re left wondering why his enemies always don’t freeze in awe when he removes his blindfold, because your cheek feels at home on his pelvis as you continue to massage his erection, a small smile spreading when his hand cradles your cheek.

“go ahead, princess,” he takes over, releasing his cock from the confines of his underwear and you’re scooching closer to him, taking his shaft in your fingers as they slowly stroke him to full hardness. gojo’s good at keeping his moans in, fixated on the baby blue nails that he paid for moving up and down, and he swears he catches a hand that goes in between your legs to rub at your clit.

that is until you’re waste no time messing up your make-up, mouth descending on his cock and gojo lets out a drawn out moan at the warmth of your mouth. it contrasts with the intense coldness of the hotel and resembles your tight cunt so well that he almost cums and you smile at the twitch you feel in your mouth.

“yeesss . . take it down your throat like a slut,” he looks at you, possibly hypnotised by how you start bobbing your head, swirling your tongue on the underside of his cock without rest. you slobber over him, gargling noises and your hand pumps the area you can’t reach and the other only draws messy circles on your clit, filling the bathroom with the obscene noises of your mouth paired with gojo’s whines and whimpers. silently, he beckons you closer and you catch his drift, both hands holding onto his thighs.

taking in a breath, you’re going all the way slowly, gently, and gojo lets you, hands cradling your head and helping you — so much so that he’s hunching over in pure pleasure, bent over and chin touching his chest from how he wanted to keep his eyes on you. your eyes never stop looking up at him, variations of mmhm’s leaving your throat and sending vibrations all throughout his length that he groans at.

“f-fuck— mouth so damn warm,” satoru chokes out, feeling a sense of pride when the corners of your eyes fill up with tears and you gag a little, but you press on because he’s trained you well. he can only focus on the gagging sounds and your nose buried in his pubes, mouth muttering out profanities. “just a little bit— s-shit . . just a lil more, baby.”

it’s not everyday the strongest sorcerer begs, drunk on feeling his tip hit the back of your throat and the dig of your nails in his thighs. your muffled moans only spur him on, another surge of amusement blooming in his chest when he sees the other person hurriedly leaving the stall next to you. gojo’s fingers bury themselves in your hair and pulls, grinning down at your melting mascara and smudged lipstick. you look like the embodiment of filthiness, tongue lolled out and eyes almost rolling back as you try to catch your breath.

“sa— satoru . .” you whine, mouth chasing his cock and manage to catch his tip, suckling and slurping up his pre-cum, “give it t’me.” that gets him grunting and swatting your hands away as he forcibly takes your chin and his cock, slapping it all over your face and you moan at the sheer girth and size of him. you let it rest against your face and your husband wishes he had his camera out to capture this. maybe next time.

“tongue.” and you’re sticking it out, and he slaps his tip along your tongue, too, clear sounds resonating throughout the restroom. outside, he hears the sink stop and with a thumb, drags your jaw to open more.

“let’s give ’im a show, shall we?”

✶ GETO

you see, you’ve always known your man to be an ass man — from noticing the way his eyes follow your figure in a bodycon dress to the special attention he gives it during cuddling, but you’re never truly prepared (you didn’t think he was more obsessed over your ass than you are) for how much he loves it when he’s always got your face buried into the pillows and your lower half propped up.

you’re on god knows what round, drool seeping into the duvet and your juices soaking the sheets and moans leaving your lips. geto’s got you in full nelson, mating press, you can’t even remember any more when the only thing you can think of is his cock easing into you.

“gone so many rounds and still need some dick in her,” he laughs and you burn from embarrassment, and yet you love it, pushing your ass back into him while his grip on your waist tightens, “don’t blame ’er — i love this fuckin’ pussy too.”

you preen at the praise, turning your head to find geto struggling between looking at your face of pleasure and your ass; he lets his desires win, memorising the cute pants and desperate furrow of your eyebrows before he reluctantly pulls his eyes away. but how could he resist — when your butt is pushed up against his pelvis so nicely, the stretch of your dripping cunt in full view and the jiggle of your ass whenever his body meets yours.

his hands leave your waist and spread your cheeks to see how his fat cock leaves and reenters you, full of your mixed cum from the previous sessions that there’s a ring of white that forms at the base of his length with each thrust. it spills all over and down his balls, down your thighs and it’s so sloppy once he starts moving, the wetness of your pussy only encouraging him further.

“pretty little doll takes my cock so well, hm?” suguru hums, fingers squeezing and releasing the fat of your ass. it only anchors him to be rougher and more precise in his thrusts, tip just kissing your cervix that has got you crying out. your head’s foggy but your grip is strong, clutching the sheets below you until your knuckles turn white. in a moment of sensitivity, your hand flies to grab at his wrist.

“sugu—” you gasp, and you meet his eyes, dark with lust while his hair falls all around him. it’s hot, he’s hot and you watch him lick his lips and smile that dizzying smile of his as he changes the pace however he likes to. one moment he’s grinding into your cunt, and the other, he’s snapping his hips roughly.

“yes, darling?” it’s taunting, just like the way he pushes down on your back to accentuate your arch, tugging your hips onto his front.

“s’good, love it, love it—!” you mewl, eyes squeezing shut from the immense pleasure and overstimulation, “feels t’good—”

there’s no answer except a resounding smack that echoes through the room and you gasp again, a choked whine leaving your mouth. you can feel heat forming on your ass and geto’s sick chuckle only makes you open your eyes again to meet him and he’s soothing the place where he spanked.

“yeah? that feel good, huh?” he coos, picking up the pace and ramming into you with the roughness of someone who’s been denied pussy for days and he spanks you again, again and again, the pain so exhilarating. geto cannot keep his eyes off you, watching, hypnotised, the way your ass moves under his hand, “just love this ass so damn much.”

geto catches your smile just as your lips part to whimper out his name and he only props one of his legs up to get deeper in you, a long groan escaping from him when you clench around him.

another smack, another one of your moans, another plea and he laughs breathlessly, cock twitching in you.

“guess i found my girl’s guilty pleasure.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami loved your pleasure. whether it was through oral or just pure sex, the way he knows that he’s making you feel good is enough for him to cum, the satisfaction of doing his job as a partner and the knowledge that you’re the only one to fall apart by his hands. that’s why he never stops until he feels like you’ve had enough, talking you through your many orgasms until you’re spent.

he chuckles lowly into your ear from behind, legs holding down your own as your body convulses from another climax that he’s brought you to. you’re squeezing so much around his fingers that he has trouble removing them, the other hand calming down your heaving stomach.

“you’re relentless, kento . .” you mumble, head slumping onto his shoulder and back, breath hitting the hair that’s at the back. your lover takes the opportunity to mark your neck, alternating between licking and sucking into the skin there. his hands always are so much larger on your body — when they wrap around your middle at events to guide you around, around your arm where you’re cooking at home together — it always sends you into hysterics.

“but you do like it, don’t you, my love?” his tone is soft, sending the hairs along your body to stand, because no matter how soft, the rasp in which he speaks with never fails to thrill you.

“i do, kento, but ’m so sensitive; not sure if you like it,” you hum, removed from your daydream when you feel his cock slap against your thigh. knowing you’re prepped for him, he doesn’t answer but only sighs into your ear when he slips in, your cum providing enough for him to slowly inch himself in.

“of c—” it’s strained, he says it through his teeth, “’course i like it, baby. i love it, even.” nanami groans when he starts to thrust up into you, drunk on the moans and whimpers you feed him. instinctively, your legs try to close but his hands are quicker, holding you open that you need to hold onto him for some sort of grounding, because it was just too. much.

“k-kento,” your voice wavers when you feel him bottom out, watching his hands wander over your sweat-filled body. he hadn’t even fully undressed from his mission duties, still wearing his watch with his trousers pulled down halfway. your pussy was just too good. “so full—!”

“y-yeah . . it is, darling girl doin’ so good f’r me,” nanami’s sounds only send shivers down your body, hands finally coming to rest along your tits. he plays with them, fingers fondling with your nipples and squeezing mindlessly while his hips give you calculated thrusts into your soaking cunt, “doing so good and taking my cock like a good girl. yeah, aren’t ya?”

you nod into his embrace but you wished he’d give some attention to your neglected clit, something that he’s been set on abusing for the past orgasms — and now he doesn’t give it any sort of attention?

“kento— mmfuck—! w-want you to,” your sentence is cut off by your own cries of swears and your boyfriend’s name until he’s turning your head so he can kiss you. devouring your sounds, he speaks against your lips.

“what is it, sweetheart?”

distracted from the kissing, you never notice the way his hands make a beeline for your core, and the first rub of you clit has got you clamping down hard around his length and he grunts.

“was it that?” and you nod again like a dumb slut, hips bucking up into his hold and you can feel his own falter, loving how warm your gummy walls were. it was disgusting; with each move of his pelvis, your juices only spurt everywhere and anywhere, dripping down right onto the sheets.

“m-more . .” you mumble, back arching and body shivering from the intensity of everything, while nanami looks between your eyes and mouth like he’s ingraining the pretty painting of ecstasy of your face into his mind. he makes sure to keep his hazel eyes locked on you, and, rewarded well when his hand comes down upon your clit in a messy slap.

“kento!” your head lols back, muscles pulled taut while your lover only smiles, and he does it again whilst his cock is endlessly pumping into you.

the slaps continue and they’re wet, lewdly wet and it makes you even more flustered and embarrassed that you’re hiding your face into his neck. each slap is like a hit to your head, making you dizzy and giddy and you want nothing more than to cream all over his cock.

they’re harsher — a strength nanami never liked to execute on you but seeing your body convulse like this, seeing your eyes blown wide and jaw slack only makes his spanks against your pussy rougher until you’ve gone silent.

“g’nna cum like this? filthy girl . . simply from my spanks?” he laughs into your hair, knowing to angle his hips just right and that’s got you speaking his name like a mantra, “i’ll definitely need to see my darling girl so ruined again.”

✶ TOJI

“you want me to be . . what?”

contrary to popular belief, toji has always (mostly) been gentle with you in bed. having come from a rough past, he’s only ever treated you like glass, entirely different from the way he was treated as a child. he’s done that to his ex-wife, as well, and now to you, thinking that if he’d ever do anything wrong, you’d leave him.

“i want you to be rougher . . toji,” it’s not something that warrants the use of his first name when a pet name is more than enough, but you both know this stems from something he’s afraid of and you’re only showing your concern through using his given name. “i can take it.”

toji coos at your big girl words, something he adores even before you’ve gotten in a relationship with him and he brings you closer with a toned arm around your waist, “are ya sure?”

and like always he’s making sure you’re okay with everything that he’s done so far, checking up on you, taking breaks in between, so you work your magic. with one hand on his forearm and one more on his face, you’re asking for more, more, more, even as he’s buried deep in you, pussy still struggling to take him because he’s just so big.

“want more, do ya?” he grunts, both hands holding you by the ankle while he thrusts into you with the force of an animal, of many pleas of you wanting more has landed you in this position — cum spilling out of you, sheets filled with your sweat and your clit feeling sore as hell — and you love every second of it. you nod pathetically, eyes welling up with tears from just how good his dick game was and when he laughs, you swear you feel your pussy flutter.

“c’mon, s-shiiit . . watch me fuck this pussy,” he manages to get out, a mix between a groan and grunt that speech is a little distorted, but you prop yourself up anyway, yelping when his hands caress down your legs to your knees and pushes. you end up with your knees to your chest and a front seat view of his cock moving in and out of you, a clear sheen of slick along his shaft from your combined juices.

without warning, he’s spitting onto your clit, a long string of saliva that hangs from his mouth until it finally reaches your core and you moan from obscene action. your hips only wiggle closer to him, chasing that same thrill. “again.”

he lets out a laugh in disbelief, “again? dirty little slut.” and he wraps his fingers around your chin even as you continue to pant and mewl, further emphasising his overpowering strength over yours and drawing your eyes from the hypnotising sight in front of you to meet his dark green ones that are filled with desire.

your mind is overwhelmed with everything, from the fullness of his throbbing cock in you to the feeling of your knees digging into your clavicle. he doesn’t even need to open your mouth for you before he’s gathering another ball of saliva and spitting it into your mouth.

“swallow,” and you do so obediently, chest heaving in anticipation while your neediness only prompts a sly grin out of toji. all the while, his hips are still moving, sending you into oblivion with you mumbling that you want even more and toji’s set out to give you something that he remembers you mentioning on a random day to your girlfriends on call.

with the same hand around your chin, he’s giving your cheek a light slap, heat already blooming from the fat of your cheek from the roughness of his hands. and he halts — he’s afraid you’ll think he hates you but all you do is clench tighter around him while a cockdrunk smile spreads across your face.

“like it— love that, toij . .” you giggle, seemingly confused about why his thrusts stop but he wastes no time resuming his pace when he sees your eyes begging for release, groaning out at the freeness he feels upon listening to you. he loves watching your pussy take him, cum gushing everywhere, but with his new discovery, he’s too fixated one seeing that look on your face again.

so he interrupts your never-ending moans with another slap and that only garners another tightening of your cunt, biting your lip with a small grin.

“like it when i’m rough with ya, huh?” toji laughs, holding your chin and slapping, playing with your lips and slapping and each time you give him what he wants — a broken moan or a call out for him, spurring his hips on until all that’s left of the room is the smell of sex and the lewd slapping of skin. “never knew my angel girl was such a cock slut . . i like her like this too, fuck!”

“always been like this,” you giggle, pulling him in just to tease him as your lips leave hot breaths on his, “just needed the right man to get it out of me, right?”

“that’s right, baby,” toji returns your cheeky smile, before a hand lands another slap on your face and you’re sent over the edge, body trembling under him and pussy spilling all over him. you’re clenching so hard that he can’t move, but like always, your lover never forgets to talk you through it.

“thaat’s it, cream all over my cock, doll,” and he grabs your face lightly again, soothing the area on your cheeks with a small grin.

“at least i know what she likes now . . and i’ll be sure to deliver.”

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sectumsempraaa · 5 months ago

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Send Him My Regards

Pairing: fem!reader x idk they’re all in love with you LOL, but Draco's down bad

Summary: You aren’t one to provoke the aggressive nature of your closest friend group (a bunch of reckless Slytherin boys) but when the new hire at your favorite bookstore makes you uncomfortable, you’re forced to ask for their… “help.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Featuring: The whole damn crew. Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Pansy, Blaise, Lorenzo

TW: Implied non-consensual touching/comments, implied violence, panic/mental distress, cursing, disgustingly fluffy

Notes: This is based on something I recently experienced, as many of you have, too. I tried my best to convey my very real thoughts on this matter. Avoiding threatening men is a constant, everyday struggle. If you can relate, this is for you.

“Love, you already own every book in the world.” Draco proclaims, staggering behind you with his pack of Slytherin watch dogs.

Whenever you go anywhere as a group, they always let you lead so they can keep an eye on your surroundings. You think it’s silly, but it’s their thing, and you secretly appreciate the protection, so you let them be. It makes them feel important, and you find it endearing.

“I most certainly do not! Only like… two hundred.” You respond, muttering the number under your breath.

“Then I’ll buy you every book in the world. Must we come here every weekend?” he groans. Of course, Mattheo interrupts, shooting Draco a furrowed brow.

“Mate, for the love of god, either stop coming on these trips, or use some of that fancy cash you love to go on about to take us elsewhere. Pick one.” Mattheo sneers. Naturally, he’s carrying your bag and coat, making sure you never lift a finger. His response earns a smirk from you.

You’re not really listening though, more so taking in the beauty of Hogsmeade. You love escaping the castle for the little town on perfect, brisk days like this one, hitting everyone’s favorite shops and downing a couple of butterbeers.

The boys continue arguing in the background as you make your way down the cobblestone street, your hair blowing softly in the chill of the November breeze. Blaise and Theo share an eye roll with each other before coming to your side, leaving the two to bicker as they trail behind. Theo steps in, heaving a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. His words drip with that rich Italian accent.

“Ignore them, bella. We’ll wait for you outside.” You smile at him and he gives you a wink. A man of few words, but oozing with charm. He will occasionally act as a grounding force when the others get rowdy. You hear Draco drag on about how he “earned” his money or whatever.

“Oh wow, a real rags to riches story!” Mattheo shouts, lunging at Draco. You shake your head laughing with Blaise, sending you a look that reads as “I’ll take care of them.” You enter the bookshop, making the bell ring as the door opens.

The first thing you notice is the shiny new display of fantasy books you’ve been dying to get your hands on. You make your way towards it, not being able to contain the thrill on your face. You’ve been waiting for this series to restock and here they are, all of them, ready to be yours. You touch the smooth covers, tracing your fingers over the author’s name on each one.

The second thing you notice is… him. Your heart drops as your sheer excitement instantly morphs into dread.

Please, not again.

The new hire at this bookstore has ruined the last couple of trips for you. You were hoping he would stop working weekends but… there he is. And he eyes you right away, like you’re on his radar.

The first time you came in, it was the comments. Calling you pet names, pointing out his favorite features on you, and it was relentless. You somehow got through it and attempted to shake it off, praying he would quit or just get fired before your next trip.

The second time, it was the touching. Brushing against your back when trying to “get through”, his hand grabbing your arm too tightly while he led you down an aisle. You tripped on your way out while trying to make a swift escape, and of course he was there to “catch you”, only giving him an excuse to grip both hands around your waist, hesitant to release you.

Your eyes go between the book display and his movements as he starts creeping his way out from behind the counter. You have to make a split-second decision to either stay and endure, or leave safely and empty handed. It pains you but your nerves heighten as he gets closer. Panic sets in as colors blur and sounds become muffled. Your brain and your body and your heart scream together in unison: “danger.”

You burst through the door back outside with a speed and force that could only be conjured by your anxiety. Facing the door, you stumble backwards and let out a gasp when you land in someone’s familiar arms. You recognize the brown suede material of Theo’s jacket as you attempt to catch your breath. It seems no amount of oxygen could suffice at the moment.

“Bella, bella, what’s wrong?” He asks urgently, hoisting you back up to your feet. The others notice the incident and immediately stride their way over. Draco, always leading the pack, puts his hands on your shoulders and lowers his eyes to your level.

“Hey, look at me,” he coos, forcing you out of your episode. He speaks with a tenderness that is almost heartbreaking. “What happened, love? Are you quite alright?”

There’s too many thoughts and feelings swimming around in your head to give an honest answer. Everything is moving in slow motion and you need time to regroup. Swallowing your fear, you decide to lie, at least for now. The last thing you want to do is impulsively encourage their hostility.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you respond, avoiding his gaze. He looks at you, deciding whether to believe you. “Really, I am.” You add. He glances down to your empty hands.

“You left without a book. You always buy a book.” He says, speaking with suspicion in his voice. The others stay back, knowing when to give Draco his space. They all adore you, but Draco would do things you’d rather not think about in order to keep you happy and safe. And he has. It’s been like this since you can remember.

“Just didn’t have what I wanted, is all.” You explained. The doubt on his face is evident. He speaks just above a whisper.

“Y/N, you know we would take care of anyone that so much as breathes near you wrong, yeah? It’s important to me that you know this.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mattheo ditching his cigarette and cracking his knuckles. You give a small nod and a shrug, releasing yourself from his hands and walking back in the direction of the castle. Your head is still reeling, but not enough to block out the boys’ debriefing behind you.

First, Mattheo. “She rarely ever gets like that.”

Then Theo. “Only when she panics.” And Blaise. “Her face was almost as pale as Malfoy’s.”

And Draco, but with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “She barely looked at me.” He glances in your direction, contemplating. “Give her time. We’ll look after her tonight. Someone tell Pansy.”

The rest you don’t hear, feeling embarrassment creeping in. You wish they’d just let it go and forget about it, cowering from the attention it’s bringing to you. Your pace quickens as the heat spreads across your cheeks, eager to be alone in your hideout at the castle.

Too focused on your path, you slam into someone’s chest as they’re coming out of the bakery you’re passing.

“Ugh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry,” you say frantically, smoothing out his jacket and moving past him, never meeting his gaze. His face contorts with confusion and concern. He watches you take off then turns back to the group.

“Something off with that one...” The boys give him a knowing look.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo sneers.

—

After what felt like an eternity, you had reached the castle and darted to your hideout: a corner balcony high up in one of the towers facing the pitch. Leaning your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you watch the sun slowly descend into its eventual bed of twilight. Then, the spiraling begins.

Thinking back, you’ve never really dealt with something like this because of who your friends were. No one dared to even step too close to you, aware of what the consequences would be. But you weren’t on school grounds this time. You felt… unprepared. Lost. Violated. Guilty.

Does running away make me weak?

Why can’t I stand up for myself?

How did he gain control so quickly?

Did I ask for it? Did I do something wrong?

This is too much. It feels ridiculous and quite frankly enraging that you considered this being your fault. The stress is exhausting.

You let yourself relax, laying down on a stone bench and staring up at the black night sky. You start to mentally identify the stars in view, something Draco taught you to do when you’d get anxious. It always worked, as evident by the many hours you fell asleep. Upon awakening, you gasp as your watch reads 1AM.

You hear footsteps rustling around nearby, and echoing voices calling your name. Shit. They’re looking for me.

Sneaking around corners, you tiptoe around, trying not to get yourself noticed. Maybe, just maybe you can get back to the dungeons without getting caught. Until you hear the voice of your best friend, who admittedly, you could really use right now.

“Pans?” You whisper, catching a glimpse of her shadow down the corridor. Her head whips around before running to you urgently.

“Where the hell have you been?! The boys are going mad looking for-” She stops abruptly when you force yourself into her arms, hugging her tight and burying your face in her shoulder. Her tone softens to that of an older sister. “Oh, Y/N,” She rubs your back while your eyes well up.

“Fuck, Pans, I don’t know what to do.” You say through subtle sobs, holding back as much as you can for her sake. She looks at you with a questioning look before your words stumble out, caked in distress.

“There’s a boy at the bookstore, MY bookstore, and-and, and he’s there all the time now, following me around, and…”

“Y/N, calm down. You’re okay. It’s just me, sweetie.” She says, running a hand through your hair as her eyes shift to someone behind you; their voice deep, slow, and filled with angst.

“There’s… a… what?” He asks, the voice you recognize as Draco’s ringing off the walls. Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise walk into frame behind him when they realize he found you. The sight of them strikes you; your fiercely loyal group of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for you. To your surprise, you are relieved to see them.

But their anger is palpable. Draco’s jaws clenched tight. Theo’s heavy eyes claiming the darkness. Blaise’s hands rolled into fists. Lorenzo steps forward, eyes soft, holding out a gentle hand.

“Let’s get you to the common room, and you can tell us-” he turns to the other boys before emphasizing his next words, “-what you’re comfortable with, if you want to talk at all.”

You nod in agreement, taking his hand while Pansy takes your other one. In your head, you’re thanking whatever higher power put Lorenzo on this planet. The voice of reason amidst all chaos.

—

It’s nearly 2AM now. You’re sat on the common room couch in front of the blazing fireplace under a mess of blankets, warming up after your frigid nap. Theo on your left, Lorenzo on your right holding your tea, Draco and Mattheo sitting on the coffee table facing you, with Blaise and Pansy on the floor. All with mixed looks of curiosity, empathy, and sheer rage.

After thinking it over, you decided to prioritize yourself for once. A lot of people don’t realize how hard a decision that can be. This is a risky favor to ask for. But there’s only a couple truly precious things in the world you can’t live without, and this is one of them. You want your fucking bookstore back.

So, you tell them. Everything.

As you recall the events of the last few weeks, you feel the air become tense. Blaise looks like he’s about to combust. Theo reaches for your hand, letting you fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist. You hear Pansy call this boy every name in the book under her breath, your favorite being “bastardly filth”. Draco and Mattheo listen, periodically looking at each other with knowing stares, having their own wordless conversation. You know those looks. Plotting looks.

When you finish, you’re briefly met with silence, temporarily paralyzing you. Do they believe me?

You break the stillness. “I suppose I’m making a big deal out of something quite trivial.” You say to them, diminishing your story, and for what?

Mattheo stands up, ushering Blaise and Pansy out of the way as he kneels in front of you. He rests a comforting hand on your knee, his eyes glowing with brutal honesty.

“It’s really very simple, little dove. You’re in danger, we take down the threat. I can assure you we all agree that your safety is anything but trivial.” He states. He gives your knee a squeeze. “Gonna be honest though, Y/N. It’s going to be ugly for him when he meets us.”

You look up to Draco, who’s been oddly quiet since you all got back. You hold his gaze as you respond.

“Good. Send him my regards.” You reply, earning a wicked grin from him, his eyes suddenly crinkled and brimming with pride. Everyone shifts a bit in their seats, wrapping up the late night discussion.

Draco strides over to you, taking the teacup from your hands and setting it down on a side table. He looks so handsome like this, facing you on the couch with his hair disheveled and the top of his shirt buttons undone. The glow from the fire accenting his features, so sharp yet yearning for sleep. He takes your face in his warm hands.

“I need you to hear me right now. Listening?” he asks. You give an unconvincing nod as his thumb caresses your cheek. Yes, but damn you make it hard to.

His stare intensifies, pulling you from your trance and forcing you to dial in to his statement.

“Never feel bad for wanting them to pay for the pain and discomfort they inflict on you. Their reasons were senseless, yours are justified.”

For the first time tonight, just for a moment, you feel sure of yourself. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer, his body becoming your safe haven. His hands nestle you to his chest as you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head.

He loves you and you know it. He’ll wait for this to pass, for things to be right. He’ll wait for you to feel whole and secure again. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you get you there, even if that means giving you space.

As Pansy sees the two of you off to bed, you repeat his sentiment to her. “My god, that bloody boy is down bad, and I mean bad, for you Y/N.”

Ascending the staircase to your dorm, you faintly hear Draco informing the boys of the plan.

“Tomorrow. Noon.” He demands. The boys nod. He pauses before adding another instruction.

“Oh, and we’re gonna need a bag. We’ve got books to bring home.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin #draco x reader #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #slytherin fanfiction #draco fluff #draco malfoy fanfic

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

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✿ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 ✿

characters: jing yuan, blade, dan heng, welt yang, yanqing, sampo, gepard, luocha x nb!reader

warnings: tooth rutting fluff, advised for u to read while sitting down or in private bc u might have a heart attack from how cute and chaotic this shit is, some angst might be sprinkled in just bc✨✨

notes: that moment when you have a super bad baby fever except the fever is towards cat rather than babies. genshin impact ver can be read here! part 2 with penacony men!

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

oh fuck

look at that floof

that absolute big soft floofball peacefully sleeping on top of your favorite black shirt. your shirt is ruined, massive amount of white fur stuck to the fabric and you’re late for work but at least you have a happily napping away cat

a siberian cat, me thinks. with that amount of fur and that large body, he’s gotta be a siberian cat

spoiled, smug peace of shit and he knows it. revels in that title even

dubbed as ‘the handsome cat’ by your friends, co-workers and neighbors alike, meow yuan is surprisingly and not so surprisingly incredibly popular amongst the ladies. whether it be because of his fur, his adorable meows, the red ribbon you tied around his neck as a makeshift collar or his way of charming the ladies with a gentle pawing to their hand and a smug “meowww”, you will never know

the biggest out of the cats. but is it his body that’s big or is it the rapunzel like long fur that he has. the world will sadly never know and neither will you

surprisingly chatty at times. but worryingly very eepy. an adult cat should sleep about 12-16 hours a day and yet you’re pretty sure meow yuan spends 25 hours of the day sleeping away under the sunlight

closest to little nyanqing. seems to think of the youngest kitten as his own as he’s seen grooming or simply looking out for the young kitten at times. also seems to be a bit closer to nyan heng and meowade but the latter tends to spend his time alone

an absolute smug spoiled prince and he owns to it. whether it be feigning hurt, crying out for your attention or downright plopping himself down on your keyboard, deleting your entire progress of work, the little shit knows how to be a headache

but it’s okay, you always forgive him because he allows you to smush your face into the fur of his belly when you’re stressed or squish his soft toe beans. meow yuan is let off the hook yet again…

occasionally, meow yuan reminds you of a lion. it maybe weird and completely out of the blue but with the way he grooms others, his fur, the absolute motor like loud purrs he emits or the sheer massive size and weight of him — yeah, you get the point

one time, you decided to spoil him by carrying him around in your arms like how you do with the other cats. the loud crack! noise and the fact that you couldn’t get up the next day should prove just how damn big he is

meow yuan was a worry wart the whole day. constantly meowing in your ears, purring softly, nuzzling your side. it almost seemed like he was trying to apologize for being this big. to which you easily let him off the hook of course. how could anyone ever say no to that big adorable yellow eyes?

art credit to cocoink🍁 on twt

a bit of a worrying case, meowade is

he doesn’t like socializing, the other cats nor does he get along with you either. the only ones he seem to at least tolerate were meow yuan and nyan heng alongside you

likes to spend his time all alone, cooped up inside some small confined space, above the cupboard or inside his own small room in the cat tree. also enjoys spending time in your room as well but only if the other cats aren’t there

flinches or freezes up whenever you touch him which is incredibly worrying and gut-wrenching. makes you hate however was his previous owner to have caused meowade to despise touches and affections

the first time you found him, bleeding and wet on the side of the road and tried to wrap your coat around him to take him to the vet, the little scraggly cat hissed and clawed and bit at you with great amount of hate despite literally bleeding out. thankfully, he seemed to understand you were no threat as he went limp in your coat, allowing you to get him to the vet

due to whatever his past experiences were, meowade hates being close to anyone. but at least he was slowly but surely opening up to the others and you

the first time the poor scraggly cat decided to bump his head to your hand, asking for pets, you cried tears of joy and relief. at least, you can offer him healing and comfort as you and the other cats stay there for him on his journey

the second biggest cat, bested by meow yuan himself. not as big as him but damn can this cat scare others. whether it be other cats, your friends who decided to visit or some random dog that you passed by as you take meowade out for a walk

seriously, the amount of times this cat wrestled against dogs bigger than himself gives you heart attacks. it’s a real wonder and a miracle you aren’t dead yet

british shorthair, me thinks. but the ones that grow to be a bit bigger than the others

has a bad habit of just… staring off into space, unblinking with those big round eyes at times. literally no thoughts in his brain. head empty, as he just… stares off into space

“oh, having another existential crisis again? mind if i join you today, meowade?”

“…”

“… meow”

and so, this weird ritual of the two of you sitting side by side, staring off into the distance, unblinking as the cup of coffee in your hand goes cold has become something special in you two’s bonding moment. oneself that meowade looks forward to each day

sometimes, he tends to chase after nyan heng around the house for whatever the reason. it leaves poor nyan heng shaking and hissing as the small black cat comes to you for help

not the chattiest of cats nor is he the most pickiest. quite docile despite his killer stare at times and you would even daresay, shy when it comes to affection

overall, a cute cat. the cute pathetic ones that you just can’t help but adore and love

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

another docile cat!! perhaps even the most docile one!!!

at first, you were worried when taking him in because holy shit, where is his tail?! only after taking him to the vets did you finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief because nyan heng was a black manx breed of cat

lean, on the smaller side, an amazing hunter and a dutiful bug hunter in the house, nyan heng is a cute black manx who has a pretty green/grey eyes

an absolute sweetheart, always hoping to please you or help you out around the house as he helps to keep the other cats in line. except for meowade. he always finds himself having a hissing match with the black british shorthair or getting teased by the eepy meow yuan

closest to nyelt, as you had found the two cats together when you decided to take him in. almost seem to see nyelt as some sort of a father figure with how the little black manx constantly goes to the older one for advice or simply some help in grooming

has a cute simple, thread like thin black tie with a few charms around himself as a makeshift collar. he seems to like it despite the thread being a little bit too thin for cats’ comfort

seriously, what’s up with your cats and their desire to wear makeshift collars? makes you really consider if they are cats…

that aside, nyen heng also tends to be more active during nighttime. not the type that would take down things, destroy objects or cause ruckus and cause you jump out of the warm comfort of your bed. no, he just simply quietly trudges around the house, searching if he had truly hunted down every bugs and insects in the house

especially that spider

nyen heng hates to see you so scared over that cursed spider. so he makes it his life mission to rid the house of insects, more specifically, spiders!!

and damn is he absolutely devoted to his job because ever since you cried to your friend over the phone about the spider that you saw in your room, you never saw another spider ever again!

not the most chattiest nor is the most affectionate. he’s a mix of both but only when in privacy of you two or when he’s feeling particularly lonely

don’t get him wrong, the other cats are an amazing company but he just tends to seek out your attention and affection more y’know? there’s just something soothing about being by your side

seems to have some history with meow yuan and meowade. whether that be good with how friendly meow yuan is with nyan heng. or bad, with how meowade seems to want to take their play fighting to a whole next level

surprisingly, doesn’t like sunlight that much

most of the cats would follow the sunlight and it’s warmth and spend some time outside or on the window sill. but you can find the little black minx just chilling in one of the rooms of the cat tree of beside you, observing the other cats

nyen heng is an absolute sweetheart. the quiet type of sweetheart

the type of sweetheart that follows you around, hoping to help you out or simply offer a comforting presence. it’s the least he can do for you

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

another sweetheart of a cat except nyelt makes himself and his presence known unlike nyan heng

possibly a havana brown breed with just how damn calm, peaceful, loving and loyal he is. especially with you. havana browns tend to attach themselves to only one person during their span of life, which sometimes can feel like nyelt is just a biiitttt clingy with you

was there with nyan heng when you took the two cats in and often times acts like a father figure to the cats of the house which is a huge help to your mental state. except for nyanqing. nyanqing only has one father figure and that’s meow yuan

but that was completely fine since nyelt still looks after the little energetic kitten. often times looking after the cream munchkin as he carries nyanqing around by his scruff

to which, nyan heng comes to you for affection and attention. if his father figure won’t give it, then you surely will!

likes to wear the black mini scarf like collar around his neck. often times seen curled up inside the mini scarf as he sleeps the day away like most cats do

can come of as quite chatty at times with how attentive and helpful nyelt is

oh your back feels stiff? he can sit on it and make biscuits (that cute moment when cats knead their paws?). meow yuan is out of option since he’s way too big and heavy and could potentially be the sole reason you break your back. literally

oh nyanqing is missing again? what do you mean he’s missing? he’s right there, hiding inside one of the rooms of the cat tree

nyan heng is being bullied by meowade again? you know nothing of the weight behind this powe—

yeah, you get it. kinda reminds you of a grandpa with how attentive he is and how he has a single streak of grey atop his head fur. which is absolutely adorable and one place that you adore smothering with kisses

nyelt doesn’t seem to mind the affection too as he simply sits there, purring away and basking in your affection. a very pliant cat

sometimes, something seems to weigh heavily on his and nyan heng’s minds with how they curl up together or look out the window, seemingly searching for something

at first when they did that, you thought some bird or a squirrel passed by the window. but if that was the case then every cats should by by the windowsill

yet only nyelt and nyan heng are

at first it worried you because what if they were having cat depression?! are you absolutely sure that you’re being a good cat owner, [name]?!

yeah, you had a lot of self doubt and depressive episodes due to the two cats

however you finally figured out the case when one day, one of your co-workers suggested a play date with her own cats. saying that sometimes, cats need to see new faces to experience some relief from their everyday tasks or ways of living

the date was agreed upon and your co-worker decided to bring over a few of her cats

the immediate second the pretty red furred maine coon, pink-ish scottish fold and the grey striped scottish fold stepped out of the cat bag, nyelt and nyan heng seem to brighten immediately as they fucking dash towards the three cats

turns out the five of them seemed to have been close before they got separated and the two male cats found their way in your home

at least your cats were happy yet again. which made you happy in turn too

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

awwwwwww

everyone's reactions when you first introduce them to nyanqing. and honestly, you can't blame them because look at that cute little cream munchkin pitter pattering his way over here!!!

as stated above, a cute little cream colored munchkin

super adorable

tiny

a tiny baby

"hang on, i'm gonna have an abnormal increase in my sugar intake simply because nyanqing is just too damn adorable to not to do that" - you on a daily basis while calling your best friend and honestly? your bestie's starting to get a bit sick of your constant fawning over your cats

that is until you bestie decides to come over for a visit to drop off some meds for you (during the infamous 'trying to lift meow yuan and almost breaking your spinal cord' day), your bestie dropped down to the floor, unresponsive the moment you called over nyanqing to introduce him to your bestie

yeah... since then the two of you constantly fawn over the little munchkin while trying not to die of a cuteness overload

but it's completely fine and understandable even as you two get the nth heart attack this day simply because nyanqing was... well, nyanqing himself!

an adorable little pliant baby who loves nothing more than sleeping, playing around with meow yuan, you and sprinkles of mischief sometimes

is the closest to meow yuan and can be found with the large siberian cat whenever you can't find him. often times, you would have to move meow yuan over to check each and every nook and cranny around the large siberian cat just so you can get a glimpse of the small munchkin and let out a sigh of relief

at times, the eepy meow yuan tends to curl up with the tiny nyanqing buttttt due to how much of a heavy sleeper the larger cat is, nyanqing almost gets crushed under the much larger cat

yet he somehow is still alive and well and completely okay???? like what????????

still doesn't relieve your heart no matter how many times you find the tiny munchkin under the large siberian cat

is a little bit mischievous at times with how he lovingly bothers nyan heng. trailing after the black minx all the while meowing his ears off about something. the same can be applied to nyelt as well but nyelt tends to patiently converse with the small munchkin unlike nyan heng who wishes to avoid him at most times, preferring his lone and private time

seem to have some sort of an ongoing hidden agenda against meowade and luonya. the former black can cat be found bullying the small munchkin until either the other cats step in or you. as for the latter? no one knows. somehow, nyanqing always ends up getting into a defensive position whenever luonya comes into his field of vision

one time you even found nyanqing hisses at meowade with meow yuan behind the tiny kitten's back. you had to put the three of them into time out and give meowade a scolding

what about scolding nyanqing you say? well

“this is the last time i’ll let you off the hook, nyan-nyan. if i find you stirring up trouble again”

yeah… when are you ever going to stop letting your cats off of the hook [name]?

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

…

“you sure this is a cat and not a fox or a vixen undercover?”

“yes, it is indeed a cat and not a fox or a vixen undercover. i’m guessing it’s a somali cat though it could be mixed breed with another different cat breed as well”

“you sure…?”

“please get out, and allow the others to show their pets”

yeah… the local vet is familiar with you and your many different cats. not to mention the amount of times you asked if meowpo was truly a cat and not a fox undercover because damn, is this cat fucking mischievous

an absolute fucking menace and i cannot stress this enough, god

the type of cat who would keep a straight eye contact with you as his soft squishy paw slowly pushes a cup full of your coffee towards the edge of the surface all the while keeping the :3 face

oh you thought meow yuan was bad and mischievous? you immediately took back your words the second you adopted meowpo

that’s how damn bad this little cat is

you know those moments that you have like,,, a cute aggression? but instead of smothering the cat with kisses and hugs and cuddles, you end up lovingly bullying the cat? yeah. that’s your eternal cycle with meowpo

“you stupid—“ kiss “—fucking” kiss “—cat!” kiss “when the fuck—“ kiss “—and where the fuck” kiss “—did you came from” kiss “—to make me suffer, huh?”

a never ending cycle and meowpo fucking revels in the sheer amount of times he can make you have lovingly bullying cute aggression moments

seems to have some sort of a rivalry with nyepard and surprisingly meow yuan

nyepard was completely understood and truthfully, you saw it coming. nyepard is a rule follower and an enforcer through and through meanwhile meowpo is a rule breaker

so imagine your surprise when you come back home one day to see meow yuan glaring at meowpo from his windowsill

“meow yuan, what’s gotten into you? why are you bullying meowpo?”

“mrreow!” oh meow yuan sounded a bit angry. which only served to double your shock since meow yuan is a very gentle cat despite his large size. gentle, affectionate, chatty, friendly and a bit mischievous at times but never hostile or mean

“mrreeeooww!” meowpo seems to complain as he makes his way over to hide behind your leg. he seems to be shaking or even afraid of the larger cat

to which, you immediately coddled and soothed meowpo over and scolded meow yuan afterwards. all the while meowpo gives meow yuan a knowing smug look

yeaaahhh… these idiots are fighting for your attention and affection

if meowpo isn’t somewhere inside the house, creating chaos and getting scolded by the other cats then you can definitely find him by asking a help from nyepard. nyeppie would dutifully carry out his duties and rat meowpo out in record time

but he isn’t always so mean or mischievous. the times where you fall sick and is having a hard time trying to breathe through your nostrils, meowpo is the one who takes care of the other cats’ bowls of food and water

it was a way of him hoping to help you out the tiniest bit as you lay bedridden

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

nyepard, the most… dog-like cat you would ever meet. but also a cheetah-like as well????

it’s hard to explain since nyeppie has spotted fur and the black smokey eye that cheetahs have and not to mention his large yet lean physique as well

the second largest. whereas meowade is also the second biggest due to his length, neppie is the second biggest due to being a bit on the… buffer? side

seriously, you were worried for a few days when nyepard kept growing and growing, showing absolutely no sign of stopping his growth spurt

thankfully, he isn’t as big as meow yuan

you don’t wanna live with the embarrassment of getting dragged down the street by another big ass cat chasing after a random pretty leaf they saw. nope. you can’t deal with the embarrassment and shame

and yes, you did dragged down the street when taking meow yuan out on a walk before but that is a story and second hand embarrassment for another time

another sweetheart despite his size

very doting, gentle, very shy when it comes to affections but still asks for them anyways because it’s you

the first time you took nyepard for his vet vaccinations, the veterinarian looked at you dead in the eyes as if saying “bestie, what the fuck?”

of course you would get weird stares whenever you take the big cat out for a walk. he’s as big as a doberman dog and the dotted furs of his doesn’t exactly help to direct attention away from yourself

but the sheer amount of power you feel when walking down the street with both meow yuan and nyepard by your two sides is fucking addicting

one cat that closely resembles a lion and another that looks like a cheetah. at least you sleep peacefully at night knowing that you have two scary cats privilege

scary dog privilege? [name] only knows and experiences scary cats privilege. at times it's adorable but also threatening as well because your bestie and some close co-workers know just how devoted and loyal your cats are towards you

nyeppie is the most loyal of them all. or at least, one who is willing to show it at each minute of the day with how dutifully he chases after insects with nyan heng, scolds meowpo or just is there to be your emotional support

by being your emotional support, nyeppie meant being there sitting beside your computer as you diligently types away at a work report and not to be your cuddle victim!!!! no, no no no, no no, you're not squishing his paws as you take him away in your arms to cuddle on the bed!! you always end up falling asleep!!!! what do you mean by it's completely fine that you have saved up the progress and the deadline isn't close yet?! the deadline is before midnight!!!

sigh...

if only cats could sigh heavily and smack his face with his palm as he watches you scamper about, trying to wake yourself up as you realize that you did ended up napping the day away with nyeppie in your arms

well, at least you managed to send the report in at time. by 'at time' you and him both meant at least 2 minutes before the deadline closed up

nyepard guesses you can cuddle with him this time since you managed to finish the report within a record time of 47 minutes

art credit to mm_mako22 on danbooru!

luonya is probably the most weirdest cat you ever had the pleasure of adopting. and that was saying something because you're pretty sure you live with a long lost lion and a cheetah and a fox cats!!!!

and he's just a simple, silly, lovely cream colored turkish angora!!!!!

ah, whatever. you guess its just life's way of dealing you karma by making you live with a bit quirky 8 cats

jokes and a lot of conspiracy theories pushed aside for now, time to focus on the present AKA 'the pretty cat'

oh yes, while meow yuan was getting dubbed as 'the handsome cat' by almost everyone who meets him, luonya was rightfully dubbed as 'the pretty cat'

at this point, you're damn sure that your friends and co-workers come around only to coo over your cats and to spoil them rather than spending time with you... understandable, because you too would do the same without a single ounce of shame and you absolutely mean every damn word

one time, just for shits and giggles and a bunch of pictures to take of your latest cat, you signed him up for a cat beauty pageant

it was only for shits and giggles and a reason to snap pictures of luonya in a pretty cat costumes and stuff, you swear!! so imagine your surprise and how far down your jaw went slack when the host announced your cat, luonya as the cat beauty pageant winner!!!

yeah...

it was a chaotic thing to happen truly and the small glares and backhanded compliments the other cat parents were giving you was making you break out in cold sweat. at least, you have your pretty cat with you to soothe yourself a bit

and a nice whopping 300K dollars as the victor money!!!! damn, you're rich as shit now

not for too long since that money is gonna fly away in the wind due to the fact that you adopted a literal 7 cats and a kitten

worth it, you cry internally as you pay for the 50 kilograms of cat food all the while luonya gently meows at you as in a way of saying "hurry up, dear. we still have to pick up the wet food and the snacks too"

hhhh yeah

this cream colored turkish angora of yours is absolutely drop dead gorgeous yet at the same time he also has a very large secretive look on his face. there's just something about the way that luonya just acts, always sitting atop a high place in the house, as he just stares into the souls of everyone within the room

weirdly smells like either flowers or of medicine and pills and there's absolutely no in between. it's either giving lilies or pills but either way, your cat is a girlboss and he seems to know it as well

not entirely affectionate like meow yuan or meowpo but he is also not too talkative either. a bit of something in between along the lines

is affectionate and talkative at times but prefer it if you would be asleep or when its just you two when he finally decides to curl up on your lap

overall, luonya is a very gentle yet also a very suspicious cat but is oki, he girlboss and he knows what he wants and needs with how he sometimes fakes choking noises to make you get up in light speed

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