#heart eyes so big they are making me uncomfortable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redroomreflections · 12 hours ago

Text

Her Best Secret Part 4

1950s Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and R are two married woman having an affair

w/c: 4.9k

Part 1

Warnings: Hetero Sex, Slight Violence, Angst, homophobia

Note: If you don't like angst don't read

Being in love is surreal. It’s nice. It makes you feel alive. The butterflies in your belly never seem to settle. The flowers bloom like never before. The sun shines brighter. Your senses feel heightened with every brush of skin, every lingering glance.

Being in love is what humans are made for. To love is to be loved.

Being in love behind your husband’s back… well, that’s a bit harder to sell.

You wish you could say you never meant for this to happen, but that would be a lie. It was never supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to feel this impossible, either.

Early morning showers were your favorite. They gave you a moment of peace before the house wakes up. A quiet moment before Claire’s cartoons fill the air before Sam’s voice calls your name. Just you, the warm water, and the illusion that everything is simple.

But today, it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt suffocating. The steam clung to your skin; no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn’t wash away the guilt. Or the want.

You pressed your forehead against the cool tile, exhaling sharply.

What were you doing?

You already knew the answer. You’dknown it since the first time Natasha kissed you. Since the first time she pulled you into her arms. Since the first time you realized you loved her.

You were thinking with your heart and not your head. You were thinking of yourself without any regard for others. It was a confusing feeling. It should be exciting and thrilling. Which it was. But also scary. It was overwhelming. It was terrifying.

How did this happen? How did you let this happen? You love your husband. You've always loved your husband. And you love your daughter—more than anything.

So how was it possible that you also love her?

How was it possible that you fell in love with a woman you've known for years but never truly met until a few months ago?

Sam made you happy. Sam loved you. Sam married you. He gave you a home and a family.

Natasha makes you happy, too.

God, she makes you so incredibly happy.

Maybe that's why you were terrified. You'd never felt this kind of happiness before—this kind of love.

And the worst part was that it wasn’t a competition. You didn’t love Sam less because of Natasha. And you certainly didn’t love Natasha more because of Sam.

This wasn’t supposed to be hard. This isn't supposed to feel complicated. This wasn’t supposed to tear you apart.

"Hey," Sams's gruff voice startled you as he poked his head into the shower curtain. "Mind if I join you?"

You shook your head.

He stepped inside, and you backed up a few inches to accommodate him. You're standing toe to toe, bare and wet.

The shower wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and he had to keep his arms at his side because if he lifted them, he'd touch you.

It wasn’t the ideal setup. You didn't care before. How close you were to him. You didn't care about silly things like personal space.

Now, everything mattered. Everything felt like a test. Everything felt like a mistake.

He tilted his head to the side and studied your face. His eyes narrowed as he reached forward and grabbed your arm.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

"Nothing," You lied. "I'm just a bit tired. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Hmm," He hummed. He reached forward to kiss your forehead. "You feel pretty good to me."

"Thanks, I think."

He chuckled.

"Come here," He wrapped his arms around you.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn’t push him away. You didn’t tell him to stop.

Because this was Sam. Your Sam. And even though you're in love with Natasha, you're still in love with Sam.

"I love you," He whispered, kissing your lips.

"I love you too," You kissed him back. You know where this is going. You and Sam had sworn off shower sex long ago. It was too slippery and much too dangerous. Standing there with him, though, you couldn't say no in his space. You didn't want to say no. "Sam,"

He pressed his forehead against yours. "I've got you,"

And then he kissed you again.

The shower was forgotten. The guilt and the want were forgotten. The world was forgotten.

There was only Sam and his warm, safe, loving embrace.

It wasn't the shower that washed away the guilt. As he pressed you against the tiles, you allowed yourself to react to his hands. His touch was familiar.

"You're so beautiful," He murmured.

"Yeah?" You questioned as his hands traveled along your body.

He kissed your neck. He sucked the skin, marking you as his own. You moaned.

"Please,"

"Anything,"

You knew the second he was inside you that the guilt would come back. And it did. But then, you could pretend it didn't exist. When he lifted you in his arms to get a better angle, you could imagine a life where nothing had changed.

A life where Natasha had never entered the picture.

A life where things were simple and easy.

But a life like that didn't exist.

You couldn't have both.

"Oh God," He groaned.

"Sam, Sam, Sam," You repeated his name like a prayer.

When he came, so did you. You clung to him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, your head buried in his neck, your breath hot on his skin. You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes. You were still thinking of her. Still imagining you were in her arms and not his.

"Sam," You sniffled. Quickly adjusting your positions, you dropped your leg so that you were firmly planted on both feet.

"Yeah?" He panted.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

*******

The bell above the diner door jingled as another occupant stepped inside. Wanda crossed her legs, adjusting herself in the booth, trying not to display her discomfort. This place was nothing special - vinyl booths, checkered floors, and the sounds of a tiny boombox playing from the end of the hall. Natasha had been there before and invited her. A cigarette sat between her fingers, untouched but smoldering. She had a way of making herself look relaxed even when she wasn't

"Thanks for inviting me here," Wanda smiled gratefully. "Between the twins and Vision, I don't get out much."

Natasha smirked, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray. "Figured you could use a break. Motherhood’s a hell of a thing, ain't it?"

Wanda exhaled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It is. Rewarding, but exhausting." She tilted her head slightly. "Still… doesn’t seem like you to call me out for something like this."

The waitress approached, setting down a steaming cup of coffee before Wanda and refilling Natasha’s without asking. She gave the redhead a polite smile—one Natasha didn’t return.

"That so?" Natasha murmured once they were alone again.

Wanda blew on her coffee, observing Natasha over the rim. "Yeah. It is."

Natasha finally took a sip of her coffee, leaning back against the booth, her free arm stretched along the seat. "Can’t a girl just want some company?"

"Of course," Wanda shrugged. "I didn't mean to assume. It's just that you and y/n are usually attached to the hip. We've never truly hung out alone. Not in ages."

"We used to."

"Right, right. I remember. Those were the days, huh? We had some good times together."

Natasha nodded slowly. "We did. Things were simple back then. Easy."

"Are they not easy now?" Wanda raised a brow.

"You're a loyal friend," Natasha guessed.

"To a fault, yes," Wanda nodded.

"So loyal that you haven't brought up what you saw or heard even to me."

Wanda stiffened, fingers tightening ever so slightly around her coffee cup. She held Natasha’s gaze, searching for any sign of playfulness, but found none.

"Should I have?" Wanda asked carefully.

Natasha shrugged, tapping ash from her cigarette. "Most would’ve."

"I'm not most people," Wanda said plainly.

"No," Natasha agreed, studying her. "You're not."

Silence stretched between them, tense and unspoken.

"You gonna tell me what you want me to say?" Wanda finally asked.

Natasha smirked, but there was something tired in it. "A confession, a scolding, a warning—take your pick."

Wanda sighed, setting her cup down. "You love her." Her voice lowered.

It wasn’t a question.

Natasha inhaled slowly, flicking her cigarette against the ashtray again. "Yeah."

"You’re playing with fire," Wanda warned.

Natasha finally looked away, exhaling smoke through her nose. "I know."

Wanda hesitated, glancing toward the door as if checking for prying eyes. "Steve and Sam don’t know."

"Not yet," Natasha murmured.

"But they will," Wanda said. "Secrets don’t stay buried forever, not in this town."

Natasha hummed in agreement but didn’t offer anything more.

Wanda shook her head. "And when they do, you think you can handle the fallout?"

Natasha turned back to her, a small, almost wistful smile on her lips. "Doesn’t matter. Damage is already done."

"She's a woman," Wanda began, but she couldn't find the words. This was Ohio in the 1950s.

Natasha leaned forward, stubbing her cigarette out. "Don’t,"

Wanda sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You can't expect this to be a secret forever. You have families. There's a child involved."

"I'm aware."

"So you're prepared? For whatever comes next?"

Natasha swallowed thickly.

Wanda watched her, a deep sadness settling over her. She didn't have the words. What could she say that would make things easier? What could she say that wouldn't make things more complicated?

"I'm sorry."

Natasha closed her eyes briefly. "It's not your fault. Just promise me you won't say anything?"

Wanda looked down, tracing the handle of her cup. "You have my word."

"Thank you," Natasha's voice cracked.

She couldn't bear to say anything else.

Not here.

Not now.

******

Steve never minded running errands. He enjoyed getting things done and checking items off a lengthy task list. Natasha always had something waiting for him whenever he got too busy with work. He’d be apologetic and get to it whenever he could. It was usually simple stuff—mowing the lawn and cleaning out the garage—nothing out of the ordinary.

This time, it was the car. Buddy’s Auto Shop had been expecting it for a tune-up. He was almost out the door when he remembered something. Weeks ago, Natasha mentioned her wedding ring needed resizing. He figured he’d swing by the jeweler while he waited for the car.

Keys in hand, he pivoted and headed upstairs to their bedroom. Her perfume still lingered in the air. He liked that. Doing something nice for her, even small, made him feel good.

He checked her nightstand first. Nothing. Then, the vanity. He never really went through her things, so he wasn’t sure where to look. The dresser drawer stuck slightly when he pulled it open. Inside, the usual clutter—loose change, an old receipt, a tube of lipstick rolling in the corner. No ring.

His fingers brushed against something different—a small, leather-bound book. The spine was worn and creased from being handled often. He picked it up, wondering if the ring had fallen underneath, but his attention snagged on a photo slipping from between the pages.

Huh.

Their wedding picture. He always liked that one. Maybe she was making some kind of scrapbook? Natasha wasn’t sentimental, but she always found new ways to surprise him.

He almost put the book back. Almost.

But curiosity got the best of him.

Just one page.

His thumb flipped it open to the bookmarked section. The first line hit like a punch to the gut.

"I never meant to fall in love with her. I never meant for us to be this close. Her smell. Her eyes. Her touch. When she looks at me like that, I forget the life I built before. I forget my name."

Steve’s grip tightened around the pages. His eyes scanned for a name, some clue, anything that told him this wasn’t what it seemed.

But there was nothing.

Just Natasha. And someone who wasn’t him.

The book hit the vanity with a thud. His breath felt too heavy, too loud in the room's quiet. He ran a hand down his face.

Natasha was in love.

And not with him.

*****

Steve paced the length of the bedroom, back and forth, for what felt like forever. His mind was a whirlwind of scenarios, each worse than the last. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe this was something Natasha was writing—fiction, not a confession. None of it was real. It couldn’t be. Because if it was, then he was a fool. The faithful husband hoped his wife wasn’t stepping out on him.

His jaw clenched as he ran through the possibilities. Who could it be? It had to be someone he knew. Natasha didn’t talk to strangers easily. That was one of the things he always admired about her—her ability to keep a close-knit circle despite being distant. But had that distance been because of him? Had she grown tired of his late nights, his unwavering predictability?

Steve forced himself to reason. He went over names.

Diane from three doors down? No.

Wanda Maximoff? No, not her type.

Not that he even knew what Natasha’s type was regarding women.

Then, his stomach twisted.

You.

His fingers trembled as he opened the book again, flipping through pages, scanning for confirmation. There was no name. Not once did Natasha write your name. But the descriptions are so vivid and specific. He knew.

It all made sense.

His grip tightened around the book before he snapped it shut. His anger burned white-hot beneath his skin, but he refused to let it take over. He needed to think and be smart about this.

So, he made two phone calls.

One to you.

And one to Natasha.

He needed answers. Now.

*******

“Mama, a worm!” Claire said excitedly, stepping barefoot through the garden. Her little toes were practically covered in dirt as she explored, utterly unbothered by the mess.

You were absentmindedly pulling weeds from your flower bed when she toddled over, holding up the squirming creature with pride.

“Oh, dear, please put that down,” you said, scrunching your nose. It wasn’t genuine annoyance—just amazement at how fearless she was.

“Hey, how about some lemonade?” Sam called from the porch. “And maybe those sandwiches you like? I can try my hand at it.”

“Oh, I would love sandwiches, Daddy,” Claire lisped, clutching the worm. “See?”

Sam chuckled as he made his way down the steps. “Always an adventurer,” he mused, crouching next to her. “Are you scaring your Mama with those things?”

Claire giggled, wiggling her toes in the dirt.

You wiped your hands on your shorts, shaking your head with a small smile. “She’s fearless, that’s for sure.”

Claire beamed, utterly unaware of the slight wriggle of the worm in her grasp. “It tickles!” she giggled, watching it squirm.

Sam laughed, stepping off the porch and walking toward the two of you. He bent down, ruffling Claire’s hair. “Alright, kiddo. How about we let Mr. Worm go back to his family?”

Claire pouted, but after a moment, she carefully placed the worm back into the soil. “Bye, Mr. Worm,” she whispered before returning to Sam. “Can we still have sandwiches?”

“Of course,” Sam grinned. “I’m about to make the best sandwiches you’ve ever had.”

You raised an eyebrow, standing up and dusting off your knees. “That’s a bold statement.”

Sam smirked. “You doubt my skills?”

“I’ve seen you burn toast, Sam.”

Claire giggled, clinging to his leg. “Daddy, don’t burn the sandwiches!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam threw his hands up in surrender. “No burnt sandwiches, I promise.”

You chuckled, kissing Claire’s forehead before glancing up at Sam. “I’ll come help you. Just to make sure we don’t end up with a disaster.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”

You shrugged playfully. “Not when it comes to cooking.”

Claire ran ahead toward the house, already excited for lunch, and you followed to grab her arms quickly.

"You are not stepping on my clean floors with those feet, Missy," You shook your head. "Nuh-uh, I'm going to hose you down right out back."

"Mama, no!" She protested, laughing as you scooped her into your arms.

"Mama, yes," You grinned, carrying her to the hose. "You're lucky I'm not washing you with a bar of soap, little girl."

"I don't smell that bad!"

"Oh yeah?" You challenged, putting her down. "How about you give me a big hug and a kiss, and I can be the judge of that?" Claire fell into your arms, leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

"I'll get started on the sandwiches," Sam didn't linger. He was hungry, too.

"Good idea," You winked. You reached for the hose, turning it into a gentle spray, and directed it towards her toes.

"Mama!" Claire cried as the cool water splashed against her feet. "it's cold." She shivered.

"I'm sorry, kitten, it's just for a second," You cooed. "Just a quick wash."

You hosed her feet, cleaning the dirt off her little toes. In the distance, you could hear the phone ring.

"Sam?" You called.

"Got it," He yelled back.

"Now, who could be calling us on a Saturday afternoon?" You mainly said to yourself.

"Maybe it's Grandma Joyce," Claire shrugged. "She likes to talk."

"That she does," You laughed, grabbing the towel. "Maybe wear shoes next time you decide to explore, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You kissed her nose.

You carried Claire into the house, kissing her cheeks and making her giggle. Her little arms wrapped around your neck, clinging to you as you stepped inside.

As you crossed the threshold, you saw Sam hanging up the house phone. The old rotary dial clicked as it settled back into place.

“Who was that?” you asked, shifting Claire in your arms.

Sam glanced up, his easygoing expression slightly strained. “No one important.”

He turned to the counter, focusing on the sandwiches, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Claire wiggled in your hold. “Can I help, Daddy?”

Sam smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How about you play in your room for a bit, sweetheart? I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Claire pouted. “But I wanna help.”

“I know, peanut,” Sam said, ruffling her damp curls. “But Mama and I need to talk for a minute. Just grown-up stuff.”

You watched as Claire’s little face scrunched up in protest, but Sam had a way of persuading her. “Tell you what,” he said, crouching to her level. “You pick out a book, and we’ll read it together after lunch. Even the long ones.”

Claire considered this, then nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

She kissed you quickly on the cheek before scampering off down the hall, her bare feet pattering against the wooden floor.

When she was out of sight, you turned to Sam, crossing your arms. “Alright. What’s going on?”

He let out a slow breath, wiping his hands on a dish towel before finally meeting your gaze. There was something different in his eyes—something guarded.

"Six years together, and I thought I knew everything about you," He said.

"What?"

"Why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You shook your head.

"Tell me now!" He asked again, slamming his hand on the counter. "The truth, goddamnit."

"Sam, I swear I-"

"You've been seeing someone," He interrupted. "For months. A woman."

You felt the blood drain from your face. Your knees felt weak. This was the end, wasn't it?

"Sam,"

"Answer me!"

"I..."

He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. "That's it, huh? You can't even deny it."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've had that woman here under my nose for months, and you're sorry?"

"Sam,"

"What could she possibly have given you that I haven't?" He demanded, stepping forward. "What has she done for you that I haven't?"

"Please," You took a step back.

"Is it the sex? Is that what's got you going?" He stepped closer to you. "Or are you so stupid to ruin your life for no reason?"

"Sam, stop."

"Or is it something else? Are you in love with her?" He pressed. "Tell me now." His voice was louder, making you jump.

"Sam," You repeated, swallowing thickly.

"You have a daughter," He reminded. "We have a daughter."

"Sam, I know, but if you'd just let me-"

"There's nothing you can say," He shouted. He was getting angrier by the minute. You'd never seen him so angry. "She's been in our home. Our fucking home. She's been watching Claire. She's been touching our daughter. Infecting you. Breaking what we have apart. Did you think about that when you were fucking her?"

"I-" You choked, tears forming in your eyes. "Don't say that."

"What? The truth? That's what's happening, isn't it?" He stepped closer, but you didn’t even realize your back was against the counter. "You're fucking her."

"Don't touch me," You slapped his hand away when he reached for you.

"I can't believe you." He was shaking his head.

"Please, just calm down,"

"Calm down?" He scoffed, grabbing your arm. "How can I calm down when you're being so reckless, huh? Do you have any idea what you've done? I knew I shouldn't have moved you here. I should have listened to my parents."

"You knew this was coming."

"I knew I should've married someone more like Diane."

You tried to pull away, but he held onto you. "Stop. Don't say that. I'm not a mistake. Sam, just talk to me."

"Talk? You want to talk?" He asked, backing away from you before swiping his hand across the table. The plate clattered to the floor, shattering.

"Sam, don't,"

"Shut up," He snapped. Another bout of anger has him almost in your face again.

"Sam, Claire's here," You told him brokenly. "She's here and doesn't need to see you like this."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Sam, please."

"This is your fault, y/n," He growled. "You did this. You're the one who wanted to move here. You're the one who has been sleeping around. You're the one who's fucking a woman."

"Sam, enough," You pleaded.

"God, I just..." He breathed. "I'm leaving."

"What? Sam?" You followed him to the foyer, where he grabbed his jacket and keys.

"I can't be here right now. I can't look at you."

"Sam, please. Don't do this. It's not what you think."

"What's it then? You've been lying to me," He accused. "You're fucking someone."

"It's not like that," You shook your head. You couldn't believe you had to plead your case.

"It's exactly like that. You're sleeping with a woman,"

"I didn't plan for it to happen."

"You never think, y/n," He sneered, shaking his head. "Always doing whatever the fuck you want. I bet that's why she's with you."

"She loves me,"

"I love you." He shouted louder this time. "That doesn't matter to you. Don't wait up for me. I can't even look at you right now."

"Sam," You reached for his arm, and he shrugged you off.

"Get away from me," He said lowly. "If you think I'm going to let my daughter be around this shit, you're dead wrong. Don't come after me."

"Sam," You tried again.

His shove wasn’t hard—just enough to create distance—but the way you stumbled and the sharp gasp that left your lips was enough to snap something in him. His rage flickered, replaced by something unreadable, something almost haunted.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said again, softer this time like he was more afraid of his own words than you were.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, breath caught in your throat.

He shook his head, something breaking in his expression. “I’m leaving. Stay the fuck away from me.”

The door slammed behind him.

And just like that, everything was ruined.

Your marriage.

Your family.

Everything.

You sank to the floor. Numb. No tears came, not because you didn’t want to cry, but because you didn’t know how. The exhaustion, the weight of it all, crushed your chest, leaving you hollow.

This was the end, wasn’t it?

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

What had you done?

“Mama?” Claire’s small voice carried from the steps. “Can I come down?”

You didn’t answer.

“Mama?” she asked again, hesitant this time.

You forced yourself to lift your hand, patting the floor beside you. “Come here.”

Claire ran over, climbing into your lap without hesitation. She curled into you, warm and trusting, her arms wrapping around your middle.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asked, tilting her head to look at you.

Your throat tightened. “Daddy’s…” The words wouldn’t come.

“Is he coming back?” Her voice was so small, so full of unshaken faith.

You swallowed hard. “He’s… not feeling well.”

Claire frowned. “Is he sick?”

“No,” you whispered, stroking her curls. “Just a bad day. A really bad day.”

*********

Natasha entered the front door, dropping her keys onto the entryway table. The brunch with Wanda was nice until the call came.

Steve’s voice had been calm. Too calm. Come home.

Now, standing in the living room, her stomach dropped.

Two bags sat by the door, neatly packed.

She furrowed her brows. “You going on another fishing trip?”

Steve shook his head. “They’re for you.”

Natasha’s stomach twisted. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for something on the coffee table. The moment she saw it, her pulse stuttered.

The diary.

"You went through my things?"Natasha’s jaw tightened. Anger flared, hot and immediate,

"Don't." He said firmly, holding the book in his hand.

"Why do you have this?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Steve,"

"Answer the question," Steve interrupted. "I have a right to know, especially since you've been keeping it a secret from me. For months."

"You went through my things."

"And what you wrote," He ignored her. "You know the things you write what you've been feeling. How long?"

Natasha clenched her fists. "Steve, this isn't the right time for this conversation."

"There is no better time than the present," He snapped. "I can't believe I've been so blind. I knew you were hiding something, but this? I was going through your things to get your ring resized. You know the one you haven't worn in months?"

"Steve, you don't understand," She pleaded.

"Don't understand what, huh?" He challenged. "That you've fallen for someone else? That you've been having an affair?"

"I never meant to fall for her," Natasha said, looking at him.

"What difference does that make, huh?" He raised his voice. "You did it anyway."

“Save whatever explanation you’ve got,” he said evenly. “I already called Sam.”

Her breath hitched. Sam. You. Claire.

Fear clawed at her throat. “Steve, tell me you didn't call him-"

"I did," Steve interrupted. "Because he deserves to know."

Natasha bit her lip.

"How long has this been going on?"

She remained silent.

"Tell me how long," Steve repeated.

"Long enough," She finally admitted. "Six months."

Steve's expression hardened.

"How could you?" He said in a low voice. "How could you do this to me?"

Natasha took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

Steve clenched his jaw. "That doesn't mean shit."

"Steve,"

"No," he interrupted. "Do you know what this means? Not only are you fucking someone, but it's a woman. I'm not even worth your respect. You don't respect me as a husband."

"That's not true," She said, stepping forward.

"Really?" He scoffed. "How else would you explain this? How would you explain the fact that you've been cheating on me for God knows how long if you're telling me the truth."

"Steve," Natasha breathed. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this. For you to find out like this."

"Oh, were you going to sit us down for dinner and have a conversation? I don't fucking think so."

"Steve,"

"What?"

"Let's talk," She insisted. "Not like this. Just let me-"

"There's nothing to talk about." He interrupted. "We're done."

Natasha felt like the ground was falling out from under her. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

"I booked you a room," Steve continued. "At the inn. I won't be there."

"Steve, please," Natasha said, a tear running down her cheek. "Don't do this."

"Take your bags," he said firmly. "I'm not letting you stay here a second longer."

"Steve, this is my house too."

"Was," he corrected. "Your bags are packed. Take them and leave."

"You can't do this," Natasha shook her head. "I can't."

"You can and you will," he replied.

"I won't."

"Fine," He said. "You can sleep in the car. I'm not changing my mind."

"Steve," Natasha said. "I love her. You have to understand."

"You're a fucking liar," Steve spat. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have cheated on me."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it," Steve said, his jaw tight. "Tell me what I'm supposed to understand. Tell me why the woman who I've spent my life with, the woman I've committed to, has betrayed me."

"She makes me happy,"

"So do I,"

"Steve, it's not like that,"

"How's it like then?" He asked. "If you've fallen in love with someone, how the fuck am I supposed to compare?"

"She's-"

"Enough," Steve shook his head. "Get the hell out."

Natasha's shoulders dropped.

What had she done?

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #it’s super angst

82 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 17 hours ago

Note

badly craving for some Fyodor fics & your writing is good asf 😩 I would like to humbly request an arranged marriage au with Fyodor where the reader has a big fat crush on him but he finds their affection disgusting. After the wedding, they try to woo him and get him to fall for them but to no avail. Until one day he gets sooo sick of it and essentially yells at the reader to stop which causes them to lose all hope and start to secretly hate him because he's actually cruel. On the other hand, Fyodor notice how the reader is not the same affectionate spouse anymore and gets uncomfortable. He realizes how he has become fond of their tenderness of him. Basically, (yander-ish) Fyodor tries to win their love back after noticing how they're falling out of love with him.

(feel free to ignore this request, hope you have a wonderful day <33)

Bittersweet

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

The morning after your wedding should have been a dream. Instead, it was a cold, unfeeling reality.

You woke up early, your heart fluttering at the sight of your husband still asleep beside you. Fyodor Dostoevsky looked almost peaceful in his slumber, his dark lashes resting against pale skin, his lips slightly parted. You wanted to reach out, to brush a strand of his hair away from his face, but you refrained. He had barely tolerated your presence the day before; you doubted he would welcome your touch now.

Still, you couldn’t help but admire him, your heart aching with the depth of your affection. So, as the sun cast its first golden rays through the curtains, you slipped out of bed and set about preparing for the day. You instructed the servants to make his favorite tea (or at least what you had learned was his favorite), and you carefully arranged a breakfast tray, making sure everything was just right. You wanted this to be a good start.

When Fyodor finally emerged from the bedroom, his loose white shirt hanging carelessly off his frame, his eyes flicked toward you—and immediately away.

"Good morning, Fedya" you greeted with a hopeful smile, setting the tray down on the table. "I had breakfast prepared for you. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, but I made sure to—"

"Unnecessary" he interrupted flatly, walking past you without so much as a glance at your efforts.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you. We are married now, after all."

Fyodor turned to you then, "Yes, we are." He stepped closer, and for a brief, foolish moment, your heart leaped in anticipation. But then he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he murmured, "Try not to make a nuisance of yourself, dear spouse."

And with that, he pulled away, seating himself at the table without touching a single thing you had prepared.

Your chest tightened, but you swallowed the disappointment down, forcing yourself to remain composed. It was only the first morning. There would be other chances.

The rest of the morning was much the same.

You tried. You truly did.

After breakfast, you attempted to engage Fyodor in conversation, asking about his work, his interests—anything that might spark even the smallest hint of warmth. Each attempt was met with silence or vague, uninterested responses. His gaze barely lingered on you, his words clipped and dismissive.

By midday, you were accompanying him through the estate’s grand halls, trying to match his slow, measured steps. He had business to attend to, you knew that, but you had hoped he might spare you a moment—just a fleeting second of genuine attention.

Instead, he stopped in his tracks, exhaling a sigh of barely concealed irritation.

“Do you intend to follow me all day?”

“I only wished to spend time with you. We’re married now, aren’t we?”

Fyodor let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Ah. A dutiful spouse. How sweet.” He tilted his head, a mockery of affection glinting in his dark eyes. “You think that if you play the devoted partner, I will fall at your feet? That I will somehow return the affection you so desperately throw at me?”

Your heart sank. “That’s not—”

His presence, his words, his very existence—it was all razor-sharp, meant to cut you down.

“I find your affections revolting.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, and somehow, that made it worse. “A pitiful display of misplaced devotion. I agreed to this arrangement, but do not mistake compliance for desire.”

It was a knife to the chest.

He didn’t wait for a response. With a final, disinterested glance, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, leaving you standing there, hollow and trembling.

That night, you didn’t wait for him to return to bed. You didn’t linger by the door, hoping he would speak to you.

For the first time, doubt began to seep into the cracks of your foolish, hopeful heart.

Maybe love wasn’t something you could earn.

For a month, you tried.

You woke before him each morning, ensuring his tea was prepared exactly the way he liked it. He never drank it. You arranged quiet dinners, hoping to share a meal with him, but he rarely showed. On the rare nights he did, he barely acknowledged your presence.

You tried to touch him—just a brush of your fingers against his sleeve, a hesitant hand on his shoulder—but he recoiled each time, his eyes flashing with something between disgust and boredom.

Yet, you persisted.

Because you loved him.

Because you had convinced yourself that if you just showed him enough warmth, enough care, enough devotion, he would soften. That the walls around his heart would crack, even just a little, and he would see you.

But they never did.

And then, one evening, it all crumbled.

It had been a long day. Fyodor had returned home later than usual, his coat damp from the rain. Still, you greeted him at the door, reaching out instinctively to take his coat.

“Welcome home, Fedya” you murmured, offering him a small smile. “You must be tired.”

“And?”

“And… I thought perhaps we could spend some time together?”

“You never stop, do you?” he said, “This pitiful game of yours.”

“Game?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” He continued “A desperate, clumsy attempt to win my love. Do you think I don’t see it? Every lingering gaze, every pathetic offering of affection.”

Your hands trembled at your sides, but you forced yourself to stand your ground. “I just wanted us to be happy”

“You are a fool” he murmured, “Stop embarrassing yourself.”

It was then that something inside you shattered.

Something in your chest grew cold.

That night, for the first time, you did not wait for him to come to bed. You did not look for him in the halls or seek his company at breakfast. You no longer lingered in his presence, no longer tried to win a single scrap of his affection.

----

For the first time since the wedding, Fyodor felt… unburdened.

The mornings were quiet. He no longer had to brush off your eager greetings or ignore the tea you so carefully prepared. The nights were peaceful. You no longer waited for him, no longer tried to share hushed conversations as he undressed for bed.

Yes. This was better.

A week passed. Then another.

He still saw you, of course. You lived under the same roof. You still crossed paths in the grand halls of the estate, still shared the same dining table on occasion. But you no longer sought him out.

You were distant but polite, reserved but not cold. You still addressed him as "Fyodor" still fulfilled your duties as his spouse, but there was no warmth behind your words.

He had gotten what he wanted.

One evening, as he returned to the estate, he realized you no longer greeted him at the door. You used to wait for him, no matter how late, a soft smile on your lips. Now, you were nowhere to be seen.

The first time, he dismissed it. The second time, he noticed. The third time, he lingered in the entryway for a second too long, waiting for something—someone—that never came.

Then, it was the meals.

You used to insist on eating together, always trying to engage him in conversation. He had found it annoying, an intrusion into his silence. But now, you simply took your meals at a different time.

It was convenient, really. He no longer had to deal with your chatter.

And yet, when he sat alone at the grand dining table, his food untouched, he found himself staring at the empty seat across from him.

It was quiet.

He told himself he should be pleased. That this was what he had wanted all along.

But if that were true… why did he keep noticing your absence?

Fyodor didn’t have an answer.

And for the first time, the uncertainty unsettled him.

It happened over dinner.

For the first time in weeks, you and Fyodor sat at the same table. Not because you sought his company, but because it was simply convenient. A mere circumstance, nothing more.

You ate in silence, your gaze lowered, your movements graceful but detached. You did not speak unless necessary. You did not try to meet his eyes.

And Fyodor hated it. He hadn’t intended to say anything. He wasn’t sure why he cared. But as he watched you calmly cut your food, as if he were just another person sharing the space instead of your husband, the words left his lips before he could stop them.

“You no longer prepare meals for me.”

You didn’t pause, didn’t even flinch at his sudden remark. You simply finished chewing, set your fork down, and responded with quiet indifference.

“You never ate them.”

He hadn’t expected that response.

“You used to try regardless” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “You no longer do.”

This time, you did pause, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words.

Then, you shrugged.

“I suppose I grew tired of wasting my efforts.”

“You’re different.”

“I learned my place.”

For some reason, that did not sit well with him.

For some reason, he found himself watching you more closely as you returned to your meal, eating in the same quiet, unshaken manner.

For some reason, he didn’t like this calm, distant version of you.

You set your utensils down with deliberate care, wiping your mouth with a napkin before speaking.

"You don’t have to worry, Fyodor." You met his gaze, but there was no desperation, no lingering hope in your eyes anymore. Just something steady. "I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"That my presence is of little consequence to you." You leaned back slightly, your posture relaxed, as if you had long made peace with this truth. "You have your work, your plans—things far more important than indulging a foolish spouse’s affections."

His grip on the glass tightened, but he said nothing.

"You can focus on those things" you continued, "I won’t get in the way. I won’t bother you with unnecessary affections or expectations anymore." You glanced down at your plate before pushing it aside. "I’ll be here. Silently."

This should have been a victory.

This was what he had wanted—what he had forced you into. You were finally the ideal spouse. Quiet, undemanding. A presence that did not intrude upon his world.

Yet, as you sat there, distant but composed, something gnawed at him, something he couldn’t place.

It was unsettling.

He no longer understood you.

And he didn’t like that at all.

Days passed, and it only grew worse.

He found himself noticing the spaces you had left behind.

The library, where you once sat curled up in the corner, reading quietly as he worked, was empty now. The garden, where you used to walk, humming softly to yourself, now held only the sound of the wind. Even at night, the room felt colder.

---

It was at a gathering—one he had little interest in attending, but one that required his presence nonetheless. You had accompanied him, as expected, standing by his side as poised and composed as ever. But unlike before, there was no subtle shift toward him, no gentle touches, no warmth in your eyes when you addressed him.

You spoke with others, smiled at their words, laughed at their stories. Not in a way that was inappropriate, not in a way that brought disgrace to him, but in a way that made something in his chest coil unbearably tight.

Because it was a smile he had not seen in weeks.

Because it was warmth you had stopped giving him.

You were fine.

You were content in this new distance, unaffected by the void that had begun to gnaw at him.

It unsettled him.

More than that, it infuriated him.

He had expected bitterness. He had expected resentment. Those, he could have understood—controlled. But instead, you had done something far worse.

You had let him go.

You had truly accepted the reality he had forced upon you, had adjusted, had thrived without the need for his affection.

He was the only one suffering now.

This was not how it was supposed to be.

----

Fyodor had never asked for your assistance before.

Not when he was drowning in paperwork, not when his workload was unbearable, never. He was a man who preferred solitude, who functioned best in his own world without distractions.

Yet, tonight, he had called for you.

And so, you sat beside him in his study, your presence unobtrusive, your role simple—double-checking documents, ensuring nothing was overlooked. It was quiet work, but for the first time in weeks, conversation flowed easily between you.

You spoke of your days, of the things that occupied your time now that you no longer wasted it on him.

New books you had taken an interest in. The musicians who played in the town square. People you had met—acquaintances, staff, fleeting faces in the estate.

And him.

"The garden’s been lovely lately" you mused, absently flipping through a page. "All thanks to Mikhail."

His pen halted mid-stroke. Mikhail?

"The new gardener" you continued, unaware of the shift in the air. "He’s been doing wonderful work. The roses have never looked better."

"You seem fond of him."

"I suppose I am. He’s good at what he does. Very passionate about it." A small chuckle. "He talks about flowers the way some poets talk about love."

"And you enjoy such conversations?"

You only shrugged. "It’s interesting to listen to. He has a way of making the simplest things sound beautiful."

How… irritating.

A man who spoke of flowers as if they were poetry.

A man whose name had no business being spoken so fondly from your lips.

A man who had stolen your attention that had once belonged to Fyodor alone.

His gaze dropped back to his papers, but the words blurred, his thoughts elsewhere.

You had moved on.

You had let go.

And now, for the first time, Fyodor realized—

He did not want you to.

Mikhail disappeared without a trace.

One day, he was there—trimming the hedges, tending to the roses, greeting you with his easy smile. And the next, he was simply gone.

At first, you assumed he had left for personal reasons. Perhaps he had fallen ill, or maybe he had found a better opportunity elsewhere. But no one seemed to know.

The other staff whispered about it. His belongings were left untouched in the small quarters he had been provided. There was no resignation letter, no farewell, nothing.

It was as if he had simply vanished.

You tried not to think too much about it. People left all the time, didn’t they? There was no reason to assume the worst.

And yet, a strange unease settled in your chest.

Still, life moved on. The estate remained, the garden still needed tending. And when no one stepped in to fill the role, you did what you could.

At first, it was manageable. Watering the plants, plucking weeds—simple things. But soon, it became overwhelming.

Some flowers began to wither.

The roses that Mikhail had so carefully cultivated lost their vibrancy. The once-thriving vines grew untamed, the flower beds dulled, lifeless.

You needed a new gardener.

You had to hire one.

You mentioned it one evening, seated once again in Fyodor’s study as you absently flipped through a household ledger.

“I need to find someone new for the garden” you mused. “It’s been difficult keeping up with it alone.”

Fyodor barely glanced up from his work. “Is that so?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Some of the flowers have already started wilting. It’s a shame. The estate looks so much livelier when it’s well-maintained.”

A quiet hum from him. Nothing more.

“It’s strange, though. How Mikhail just disappeared like that.”

This time, his quill paused—just for a second.

“I suppose some people are simply unreliable” he murmured, dipping the quill into ink.

An odd feeling stirred in the back of your mind.

It was silly, wasn’t it? The thought that Fyodor—

No.

You shook it off. Ridiculous.

There was no reason to think he had anything to do with it.

Yet, as the days passed, as the flowers continued to wither, as the space Mikhail had once occupied remained empty, you couldn’t quite shake the thought.

And worse—though you did not yet realize it—Fyodor knew you couldn’t.

And he was waiting.

Waiting for you to understand.

That no matter how far you tried to move from him—

He would never let you go.

It started with the flowers.

No matter what you did, they wouldn’t bloom.

Some parts of the garden thrived as they always had, but a particular patch—right where Mikhail had once worked the most—remained barren. The soil was wrong, dense and damp in ways it shouldn’t have been.

One day, curiosity got the better of you.

You knelt down, gloved fingers sinking into the earth as you began to dig.

A few inches deep, the soil darkened. The smell turned foul, pungent.

Your fingers grazed something.

Something not stone. Not wood. Something soft.

You swallowed, heart pounding, and dug further—until a shape began to take form beneath your hands.

Your breath caught in your throat.

A hand.

Pale, lifeless, limp. The fingers were stiff, the nails caked with dried blood.

You jerked away, scrambling back, your vision blurring with disbelief, with horror. And as you sat there, trembling, staring at the thing that should not have been there, your mind whispered the truth before you could stop it—

Mikhail.

You should have screamed. But before the panic could fully seize you, before you could even process the implication of what you had just unearthed—

The bells in town rang. Loud. Urgent.

And the news spread like wildfire.

Another body. Another victim.

The serial killer had struck again.

Suddenly, all thoughts of Mikhail’s shallow grave were drowned beneath something bigger, something that seized the town in terror.

The killer had been targeting people in the area. And now, they had claimed yet another life.

The estate became a sanctuary, a place of safety. Servants whispered in fear, locking their doors at night, avoiding the streets unless absolutely necessary.

And Fyodor—Fyodor had never looked calmer.

One evening, as the news spread and the fear settled into every home, he turned to you, “You should stay close to me.”

“What?”

His fingers tapped idly against the armrest of his chair. “It’s dangerous out there.”

You hesitated. Of course it was. That much was obvious.

You nodded.

And Fyodor smiled.

Because you had no idea, did you?

No idea that the real monster was sitting right in front of you.

And now, you had walked right into his arms.

At first, Fyodor simply remained close—never overbearing, never forceful, just there.

You didn’t even question it.

After all, it made sense, didn’t it? The town was in fear, a murderer lurking in the shadows, and you lived in a secluded estate. Of course, you would stay near him. Of course, you wouldn’t wander too far.

And Fyodor?

He played his role perfectly.

One evening, as you read by candlelight, a cold breeze drifted through the room. Without a word, Fyodor draped a shawl over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your skin just briefly before pulling away.

When you thanked him, he only gave a quiet hum, as if it was nothing.

Then, the meals.

He had never cared about your routines before, had never paid attention to whether you ate or not. But now, he would casually remind you.

“You’ve hardly touched your plate” he’d murmur during dinner, tilting his head slightly. “You should eat more.”

And when you did, he looked pleased.

Then, conversation.

You had spoken freely before, of course—but now, Fyodor engaged.

He listened intently when you spoke of your interests, made thoughtful remarks, even encouraged you to continue.

And perhaps it was just because you were lonely, because the house felt emptier, because the world outside was dangerous—

But you found yourself enjoying his company.

He simply filled the spaces that had once been empty.

And soon, without realizing it, you began to trust him again.

You laughed a little more around him. You lingered in his presence longer. You sought his thoughts on things you never would have before.

And Fyodor?

He watched.

He waited.

Because it was working.

You didn’t even realize, did you?

That he had pulled you back in.

That, piece by piece, you were becoming his again.

It was gradual—so gradual that you didn’t even notice.

Little by little, you returned to how you once were.

At first, it was just habit. You had always been warm, always been affectionate. And now that Fyodor was allowing it, even reciprocating in his own quiet way, it felt natural to fall back into those patterns.

You started making tea for him again.

Not because you expected anything, but because it felt right. Because he drank it now, without a word of complaint.

You sought his company more.

Not in the desperate, longing way you once had, but comfortably. You’d sit in his study, flipping through a book while he worked, just as you used to.

And most importantly—

You trusted him.

You felt safe with him.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with unseen horrors, and Fyodor was steady. Reliable. A pillar of protection in the growing storm.

Of course, you didn’t realize that it was he who had created the storm in the first place.

And Fyodor?

He knew better than to be careless.

Yes, you had come back to him—had settled back into his grasp—but he wasn’t a fool.

Affection was fickle. Trust was fragile.

And he had no intention of letting you slip away again.

So, he tightened his hold.

"You should stay in today" he murmured one morning, glancing toward the window. "I have a bad feeling about the town."

You hesitated—but he was rarely wrong, was he?

So you listened.

Then, it was the staff.

Servants who used to chat with you now avoided meeting your gaze, as if afraid of something unseen. People you once trusted left without a word.

Slowly, the house became his entirely.

And then, it was you.

One evening, as you prepared to retire to bed, Fyodor’s voice stopped you at the doorway.

"Come here."

You turned, confused, but something in his tone left no room for argument.

So you stepped closer, and he reached out, his cold fingers brushing over your wrist.

"You forgot your necklace" he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

You blinked. "I… I don’t remember taking it off."

He only smiled. "Perhaps you shouldn’t take it off at all."

You didn’t notice the way his fingers lingered against your skin.

Didn’t notice how pleased he looked when you nodded, murmuring, "Alright."

You didn’t see it—

The slow, delicate strings that bound you to him.

By the time you realized, it would be too late.

Because now, he had you.

And he would never, ever let you go.

#yandere x reader #yandere #bsd x reader #bsd x you #yandere bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #heliosfyodor

56 notes · View notes

commandershepardvasfuckit · 14 hours ago

Text

After a rut your husband always got particularly snuggly, needing constant contact attention, not that you minded showering him in affection, even if he has picked up an odd new habit.

M!monster (troll) x gn!reader)

————

At this point you were pretty used to your husband’s ruts. A few days where you couldn’t separate from him even if you wanted to, followed by a day or so where he was just velcroed to your side.

This time was no different. He woke you up one morning practically teary eyed from being so pent up, grinding against you trying to get some relief without waking you quite so early. Though at 8.5 feet tall nothing he did was exactly subtle and his idea of gently grinding against you woke you up pretty quickly. Not that you minded.

Over the next few days you were rarely off his cock. Falling asleep cockwarming him, lots of him just spending hours lazily thrusting into you. He whimpered and whined the whole time, softly begging you to come back to bed any time you tried to get up, even if it was just to grab a snack or run to the bathroom.

As usual, he rolled off of you and immediately began snuggling as his rut ended, laying his head on your chest so you could play with his shaggy mane of hair. It was always endearing and amusing how fast he went from horny to just cuddly.

Now he was happily purring while he nuzzled the side of his face against you, completely at peace now that his hormones weren’t telling him to fuck you into the mattress nonstop. One of his long, elephant-like tusks was rubbing against your skin somewhat uncomfortably, but the last time you tried to get him to stop he looked so dejected that now you just resigned yourself to it.

He nuzzled over closer to your nipple, no easy task with his tusks in the way, and immediately took it between his lips. It was an odd angle for him to be able to reach your nipple, and the underside of his tusks were really pressing into you, but he seemed so content sucking on your nipple you didn’t have the heart to stop him. Months ago you had finally gotten him to play with your nipples, not really a thing for his species with tusks getting in the way, but he did eventually find angles to make it work.

One of his hands rested on your tummy and you felt him felt him kneading into you. You often teased him over being cat-like with the purring and nuzzling, though this was new. You watched him closely, even his long, pointed ears were wiggling as he sucked on you.

He continued nuzzling into your chest while happily suckling, kneading, and purring until he fell asleep.

When he finally did wake up you had questions.

“So the nipples, that was new” you said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“What?” he asked back.

“When we were cuddling after your rut, you started sucking on my nipples.”

“That is not new, you taught me humans like that, I have done it before.”

“Not after a rut, and certainly not like that.”

“Not like that?” he asked back.

You recounted it all, watching him blush more and more as you explained it was more than playing with your nipples.

“I do not know” he admitted, “I was just comforting, I cannot explain it, sorry.”

You kissed the top of his head where he still laid on your chest. “You don’t have to apologize, it was actually pretty cute. You just looked so relaxed and happy, my big house cat of a husband.”

“I am not that cat-like.”

“I don’t know about that. You purr, and nuzzle, and are always shedding, and now you knead while sucking on my nipples, your ears even twitch like a nursing kitten. That’s pretty cat-like” you teased affectionately.

He just groaned into your chest, finally he might have to admit that maybe he could be a bit cat-like.

#monster fucker #teratophillia #monster lover #terato #monster x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster husband #Zen’jan info #he is truly baby

103 notes · View notes

screampied · 7 months ago

Text

ʚ FINISH INSIDE HER ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ sum. what the hell is a full nelson? no worries, luckily underground boxer toji shows you a hands-on demonstration. although, you want choso to try it with you too. not only are you a slut visual learner, but you also think you can take them both - not in a fight though.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, boxer! au, boxers toji & choso, 3sum, choso walks in on you and toji, unprotected, full nelson, manhandling, brief ōral (f + m), quickie, size diff, finger sucking, praise, dirty talk, choking, they fight over you, whiny choso, squırting, impact play, slight nıpple play, premature ejac, spıt.

an. kind of based on this ask!

“upsie daisey, uh huh. biiiiig fuckin’ stretch,” your mouth drops open once your thighs gets sprawled apart. your back slumps back against the fighter — toji, you’ve been training with him for a while. not only were you training with him but you’ve also been a bit of a fan. you mentioned to him on how you wanted to strengthen your ‘flexibility’ a bit more and of course, he had just the right thing to help you. out of curiosity, you asked him about a certain position you watched him perform on his rival, choso kamo. full nelson, it was considered illegal in some rings if not all. toji would always perform a specific choking move where he’d pin choso down with ease, burly buff arms putting him in a head lock - preventing him from moving a single inch. the entire crowd always goes wild at it every single time—so you wanted to try it out for yourself. “easy, easy. don’t tap out on me jus’ yet, okay? y’er a big girl.”

bobbling your head to give him a nod, an airy breeze shoves you back into his chest. the stretchy fabric of his boxing shorts tickle against your skin upon impact. “o- okay,” you breathe, gasping once he hooks two big arms underneath the undersides of your thighs. he’s got such a good taut grip that seconds later, you felt yourself throb a bit at the feverish, hot friction. “you’re not really gonna, heh, choke me out right?”

“not unless y’er into that, princess,” he jibes, a throaty husk of a chuckle leaving out of him. and as you’re spread all out, limbs extended—yeah,

you were probably fucked.

after what seems like hours of meaningless stretches and exercises to prepare your limbs, toji’s finally got you in the position — you were sprawled right in his lap, being in a safe firm chokehold.

his voice was roughly gruff, and as he spreads your legs just a bit further, you feel the cottony bandage that wraps around his arm ghost up against your thigh. his touch was gentle and you intake a sharp breath, further continuing to lean into his touch - his grasp. “mhm, seems like y’er a bit more flexible than i thought. this comfy?”

“no,” you let off a sheepish snort, starting to feel a brief pang on your thighs from the position. to be fair — not only was full nelson uncomfortable but it was dangerous. just one wrong move and snap. but toji was a professional, he’d make sure you’d keep all your pretty little limbs in tact. probably. clearing your throat, your eyes scan around a plethora of trophies and plaques he’s won throughout his career. “but um, have you ever tried this position with no clothes on?”

toji grows quiet, allowing you to lie back on his chest. black curly strands of chest hair fondle against your skin before he murmurs gruffly into your ear. “maybe.”

the growing bulge that hid underneath his boxers had you almost feral. you felt its presence—how it was just there, poking right against your shorts.

you prepare for yet another sharp drawn out breath, taking in his loud axe cologne that wafts through the entire studio. “can we try nude?”

and that was probably dumb to ask.

it was very dumb to ask.

your lewd filthy thoughts loved to make themselves known out of your lips at the worst times. your heart raced the moment you blurted that out, feeling the tips of your ears burn a scorching temperature. he’d say no, you were almost sure of it. you were just a dumb fan who managed to be a favorite, surely he wouldn’t—

“why the hell not,” he snickers, sliding his hands toward the smooth curvature of your hips. “i’ll go easy on ya for today. let’s get rid of these,” he pulls on the string of your panties, already discarding your shorts with such quickness. “i’ll try not ‘ta break you too bad.”

but that was a lie—

not only did he break you but he stretched you out in all the ways possible.

you had the most dumbest expression, tongue lolled out, legs spread, gushing all over the velvet red boxing mat - time and time again.

pink luminescent lighting shine back against the centers of your irises as you stare up at the ceiling’s lights. you’ve never felt so weak. spit slick lips of yours were all swollen and numb from being chewed on constantly like candy. within minutes, your knees were already surrendering, bucking at his very mercy.

“fuck, tooooji.” you’d drag out his name in cute elongated syllables.

the infamous elastic stretch of his cock has you writhe and spasm all over his lap. ludicrously, your voice bounces across the cheap walls of the building. nevertheless, you can’t lie to yourself, you’ve rubbed a few out at the thought of having this moment with your favorite boxer.

unprofessional, maybe. but he didn’t care and neither did you. besides, he was helping you with your flexibility after all. even if it was a bit more intimate than most regular methods.

your heart races, thumping out quick hurried beats as he’s shoving his cock in and out of you. you’re in such a submissive position that you were just a bobble head, a doll. he treated you like one — using your body, bouncing you up and down and manhandling you all over the mat.

he gruffly cackles behind the plushy shell of your ear, watching right before his eyes as you’re jouncing on his dick. your skin was so warm, so hot, the recoil stings for a few seconds before your ass ricochets off his sharp pelvis.

the smacks and paps only grew louder, and so did your sweet melodic moans and whimpers.

a creamy pearl of a ring coats around his base and he grunts, still having a beefy arm around your neck. his muscles flex and you fight the urge to bite his bicep. “easy, good girl. lean right into me. y’er a natural.”

his words went straight to your cunt. toji was a dirty talker, never a sweet talker.

he knew how to get you wet, whether it was with his slick mouth, his tongue, or even his cock. his voice was always so low, timbre and all. the husk that it carried never failed to make you soaked. embarrassing,

oh, it definitely was embarrassing.

he’s got a free hand gripping onto your thigh, kissing your ass with his palm - rough rude spanks.

the cute flinches of your rear bouncing back against his lap makes him slide a tongue over his lips, including sliding over that notorious scar that slides down the right side of his mouth. “fuck, so fuckin’ sloppy. got the mat all soaked. should make ya lick it up, huh.”

you couldn’t even reply . . you tried, but babbles of inaudible squeaks came out instead.

it just felt too good, he felt too good.

you’re panting heavily, the repetitive pop song that blared through the boxing ring’s broken speakers gets stuck in your head. you hear the moist wails of your pussy squelching time and time again, entirely soaking yourself with your own beloved filth. a free hand of toji’s creeps its way in front of you. hand so big that he could easily cover it over your entire face if he could.

with glossy half-lidded eyes, you stare at his palm, feeling your mouth water.

thick long fingers, he knew what he was doing.

toji’s just casually waving his hand around in your face in a slow mesmerizing motion as you bounced on his cock. they were so lengthy and thick, his arms had prodding veins for days. from his wrist to the edge of his arm, you saw the veins poking out. he was so built that you couldn’t help but stare, couldn’t help but drool. “what a sloppy little girl. i could really snap you in half, heh,” he huffs, clenched abs pressing against your back. it’s hard, rock hard . . they feel like bricks.

you knew underground boxers like toji had to keep up a strict workout routine but damn.

“but you’d like that, huh,” he murmurs, bringing another smack to your slick wet folds. you moan at the stretch of your limbs, craving for more of his rude spanks against your swollen cunt. you throbbed from not only his words but his touch too, and the thought of him literally breaking you had you a bit more soaked than you thought it would.

this was a workout of its own - rutting your weight up and down against him. he’s got a secure hold on your body, holding your thighs up in place.

you were stupid, not even acknowledging that you’d already grab ahold of his wrist, stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you moan the second the dry bandaged digits delve past your lips and makings way down your throat. as your ass steadily rocks against him in sloppy rhythm, you feel the very tips of his fingers prod against your puny uvula. you almost gag at the unexpected feeling—a cobwebby trail of saliva that was translucent pours down the side of your parted lips.

“no manners, tch,” he scoffs and his ripped abs continue to brush up against your back. “sloppy baby. got some nerve showin’ up to train being this fuckin’ nasty ‘n soaked.”

the hot skin against skin contact rubbing off against each other had your panties in a bunch, despite them already being technically pulled to the side and abandoned.

you were already still sensitive, swollen achy cunt sobbing out its own pleas of pleasure.

haphazardly, your knees buckle and he snatches his fingers out of your mouth. he does this solely to get a taste himself, swirling his pink pointed tongue against his slippery digits all thanks to you. “startin’ ‘ta think you came here for more than to just get an autograph ‘n work out with me, pretty girl.”

and as the plump crown of his cock molds you a tiny brief bulge from just his size alone — it repeatedly thrashes up against your sweetest spot. you shudder, about to collapse backward before you hear the jingling bells of the front door sound off.

“h- hey, toji man. did i leave my . . gloves . . ?”

choso, toji’s rival and regular training partner stares at the erotic scene and his face twists.

“oh,” and he’s flustered right away.

you stop bouncing and your eyes widen as big as saucers—yet, you weren’t even embarrassed. you were in awe, you knew all about choso kamo.

the choso kamo, anyone would be crazy not too. he was the most recent up and coming boxer, and after beating toji with a brutal close score of 58-57.

as you’re reclined back against toji—you finally get a good look at the other dark haired boxer.

he was slim yet also well built, choso was known for fighting opponents with his iconic ponytails but as of currently - he started to wear his hair down. sometimes he’d pin it up, a bit of a wolf cut that flew down his broad shoulders.

as his bashful gaze met yours, he grew nervous. very nervous.

black sable hued shorts cling onto his hips whilst he was shirtless, a few past battle scars painting the entire canvas of his perfectly chiseled body. “am i . . interrupting something?”

“nah. c’mere, ‘cho,” a husky voice calls out and he pauses in his tracks. the air suddenly clouded its way with imaginary thick smoke of lust and tension. it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

he swallows—dragging his bare feet across the crimson red mat toward you both, ducking underneath the stretchy multicolored bars before gawking at you. he was far pretty up close once he entered the practice ring, he runs a hand behind his neck before averting his eyes away from your nude body out of respect.

“he’s always been kinda shy,” toji purrs to you, still buried deep into your cunt. you shiver, every movement he makes makes—even just sitting up makes you let off a soft noise. you chew the inside of your cheek, feeling a stickiness stick between your thighs. dark green eyes flicker at choso and he hums, tilting his head. “choso, you know how to do full nelson too, yeah?”

“y- yeah, of course i do why?”

“you’re avoiding eye contact again.”

choso gulps - burying his hands into the burrows of his shorts pockets. a sheet of sweat marinates across his forehead before he glances at toji, rephrasing. “eh, yeah i know how to do full nelson. why?”

“because,” toji smacks his lips, a hand prying its way between the valley of your legs. you moan, still feeling full from tepid hot dumps of his cum practically oozing out of your puffy slit. “we’ve got a new opponent ‘n she wants to experience what it’s really like on the ring.”

“toji, we do full nelson all the time,” choso timidly runs a bundle of fingers through his buzzed undercut, a timid smile curling against his lips. “we never usually do it um . . naked though.”

the boxer underneath you deadpans. he could be so dense, choso stands still before a small gasp wrenches out of his pink glossed lips.

“oh.. oh,” and his face turns into a flustered tint.

you’ve watched a bit of his interviews and it seemed not only was he shy with the press but he was also very shy in person. it was cute, regardless.

as you’re busy being trapped up in your own thoughts, choso can’t help but peek down toward your legs. you were all exposed and being stretched out by his rival. he sucks his teeth in longing, briefly staring away before feeling himself grow a bit . . aroused. “i feel disrespectful for looking, ‘m sorry.”

“no, it’s okay,” you murmur in coy reassurance, and a hand tugs onto his wrist. choso’s breath hitches at your touch, and you felt his dark eyes flicker back toward you. there’s this look in choso’s eyes, it’s mainly lust-driven. his pupils were blown and his heart raced, you looked so pretty. it’s not like he didn’t exactly not know you. he’d see you every so often when you were ‘training’ with toji. not only that but he’d spot you attending almost every boxing match. always in the front row with a vip lanyard. secretly, you were more of a choso fan but toji didn’t have to know that. “do you wanna touch me too?”

“yes,” he blurts out almost right away and his face flushes a deeper shade. a rumble from toji shakes his shoulders - he’s chuckling, and you feel a big arm wrap around your torso. you bite down on your lip, still feeling yourself sit in a creamy puddle of filth, warm cum still plugged into you. choso starts to pant, watching you slither a hand between your thighs, spreading your soppy pussy lips. “i mean.. oh, that’s..” and he’s barely able to think straight, watching as you toy with yourself whilst still being full of toji’s thickset cock. his head starts to spin before he inches closer, kneeling down after your cute hand gestures to come here. “a- are you sure you want me to—”

“it’s okay, go ahead.” you hum, guiding his wrist.

“choso, she’s not gonna bite ya,” toji snickers, bringing your legs back down. as of now — you were currently straddling him with your back facing his chest. choso rubs his neck once more, growing sheepish yet again. it’s adorable, but again, he’s seen you at his matches and face offs. choso being choso though was far too shy to say anything or thank you for your support. but now, maybe he could thank you in another way. toji crosses his arms, cocking his head as he glances at the scene. “atta boy.”

a scowl forms on the timid boxer as his fingers resume to brush up against your drooling cunt. “s- shut up, toji,” and you let off a moan at his gentle strokes. you continue to lie back against toji - staring at choso, ogles as two plump fingers of his partner’s play up and down against your soddened entrance. choso’s mouth starts to water the more he stares, admiring how full you were—you had a few remnants of toji’s cum oozing from your slit and he swipes it up, bedaubing it against your pussy to make it sheeny again. “f- fuck, you’re so pretty.”

“you can t- touch me more, choso,” you lightly pause his hand by grabbing his wrist. his eyes meet yours and he felt the tent in his boxers tighten. oh, he was already whipped from the sound of your voice. with half lidded smoky eyes, he huffs out a single breath before glancing at your lips. you climb off of toji and a brief pop exits your cunt - dragging choso closer. “are you hard, choso?”

“he’s definitely hard,” toji tchs, averting his jade green eyes toward his partner’s shorts. it was hard to not notice the presentable bulge that’s sticking right in front of his leather everlast brand shorts. “cute.”

“shut up man,” he repeats with a glowering scowl.

with a cute dramatic sigh, choso grumbles something under his breath - trying to pay more attention back toward you. he leans into your touch, closing the gap between your legs until he’s right between you. choso presses a chaste kiss against your collarbone before moaning into your tender skin. he couldn’t help but suck against your shoulder for a few seconds, relishing in your candied flavor.

you were so sweet - bandaged hands roam everywhere on your displayed body before he exhales deeply, staring at you with almost heart shaped pupils. “you . . wanna try full nelson with me too, princess?”

throwing your arms over him, you hum with a subtle nod. “yeah, ‘s okay. i can handle it.”

famous last words,

with choso . . he stretched you all the way out, probably even more than toji.

his cock was just as thick, maybe even more. his fat reddened tip swelters the inside of your sopping pussy so good until you’re whimpering his name on constant loop. it’s like a mantra, you’re so dumb that it’s like his five lettered name was the only thing your brain could comprehend to say.

he’s got you upright in the same exact position before, slinging two beefy arms underneath your thighs as your weight bounces and defies gravity.

“fuck, fuck,” he whines, the addictive squeeze your cunt had never failed to make itself known. he reached any and every area so deep. choso had a delicious curve to his cock that sent you straight butterflies. it expands through your walls, french kissing your insides until you whine. his base was repeatedly getting smacked from your ass, each ‘n every time you jerked up from his lap. “y- you’re so good. so warm, ‘m gonna pass out.”

“aren’t you the boxer though?” you try to tease, but your cheeky voice falters the second his slitted tip kisses against that spot.

your vision was merely blurry, seeing nothing but a kaleidoscope of stars. in almost defeat, your head falls back against his chest and toji watches the entire time, buff arms crossed and an amused cunning expression. seeing you milk his rival was something he didn’t know would turn him on so much.

choso doesn’t reply to your little jest, still pumping such fat inches inside of your gripping walls. he’s already dumb, knocked out cold with a solid punch - not necessarily from an opponent, but your pussy. “hang onto me, ‘kay? this position requires lots of um . . s- stamina.”

as you nod, your entire body dangles and bobs from the movement — parching hot friction gluing against each jolting limb before you spasm.

“chosoooo,” and your thighs collapse, coming to its pleasurable demise. his thrusts were sloppy, the squelches of your own body was so lewd. you heard it through and through, glancing down to see yourself flutter and clench around his cock. “fuck, fuck ‘m gonna get close again.”

“wait,” a gruff voice murmurs and you glance up to see toji standing over you. he cups your chin, a thumb caressing your quivering bottom lip. “such a empty mouth. hm, open for me, pretty. think you could use some throat training too.”

as choso’s still plummeting his cock into your swollen cunt - stretching you out dexterously, you part your lips open.

by your surprise, toji’s lips meets yours and he pulls you into a deep kiss. it’s a bit of a rushing kiss, sloppy and strings of saliva tangling between each mouths. you moan, feeling the weight of your breasts bounce as you’re making haste on the other boxer’s lap. fuck, you were quite literally living the dream. you whimper, feeling his broad hands grab against your tits, using thumbs to push squeeze pressure against your perky nipples. he was always so handsy, allowing his hands to wander everywhere and yanking against the remaining pathetic pieces of fabric that covered your body.

you were still layered . . partially,

his rough scarred hands slide underneath your blouse as he’s continuing to make out with you, curling his parted tongue beside your own before it turns into obscene sucking. your own tongue occasionally scrapes against his scar that located directly near the right side of his mouth - it tickles a bit—however, you whimper once choso’s dick created its own little kisses against your g-spot.

abruptly, toji who was just claiming your mouth a few seconds ago pulls away from the continued kiss to grip underneath your chin again. “ah, say ah,” and he hums at your obedience, staring at your pretty pink tongue rolling out of your mouth flat. “good, ‘m gonna train this throat a little bit for ya, sweets. that alright?”

“o- okay,” and you’re briefly cut off once he springs out his cock again, thwacking his pink pearly tip against your tongue. he lets off a gruff satisfied grunt, feeling himself harden up once you flick your tongue against his slit. you’re slow, making sure to savor his taste. he watches, smacking his lips and his left brow curls.

toji bites his lip, his abs curlings as he watches you try to suck him of fully — he smacks his cock all against your face softly, watching your needy pout before humming. “such a needy cock hungry slut,” and a thumb swipes against your lip, preparing to insert his hardened shaft down your throat. “aw, you want more, do ya?”

you nod before moaning, feeling choso kiss down your neck, yearning for your attention.

“y- you’re doing so good,” choso whines against your ear, clinging onto your jerking body. “ngh, don’t listen to toji. he’s just mean.”

toji rolls his eyes. he’d reply with a sassy remark but he was still feeling the after effects of sensitivity. his muscles were all tense and spasming from you just bouncing on him just a few minutes ago. you’re just grinding onto choso, feeling your hips ridiculously buckle and snap before he smears his cockhead against your lips like it was lipstick. his plump tip goes against your wet lips, only for him to smack it against your clean pink tongue. “mmph.” you lashes flutter, ogling as he buries a few fingers into your scalp for a good grip. toji grunts, briefly tossing his head back in rapture. his scent grows stronger as he gradually starts to sink his way into your mouth.

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum. i can’t last,” choso babbles, facial expressions scrunching up the more you quicken your tempo on his lap. toji glances at choso who’s melting right underneath you — he’s got you in a secure hold, but it’s lazy.

one of his arms sling around your torso, another holding onto your thigh. “fuck,” he sucks against your neck, feeling the stretch increase. your walls were his own worst enemy, preparing to milk him for all of his worth. everything felt hot, his throat felt dry and he’s starting to shake right underneath you. “gonna cum, gonna c- cum.”

“not yet, ‘cho,” he grunts, watching as you lean in, adjusting your throat to his heavy size. your tongue swirls around the peeling slit and he huffs, a single hand tightening its hold against the roots that stick onto your scalp. “mhm, look at me. don’t worry about him, he’s just a crybaby,” and you can hear choso let off a scoff from behind you. toji’s sensitive cock was still dribbling a bit with a concoction of your previous juices and he groans at the image of you lapping it right up. “c’mon, little deeper. i wanna feel that slutty roof.”

whilst you’re having your mouth and cunt filled entirely—choso’s whining pitches louder and louder. so loud that it reverbs all throughout the thin walls of the empty boxing arena. thankfully, there wasn’t anyone here and it was usually closed on saturdays. he didn’t like be edged, he hated it.

but it felt good,

so fucking good.

especially due to the fact that he was so close to you, hearing your sweet whimpers follow in sync with his.

your voice made his cock twitch and from the inside, you felt it all.

every frantic spasm - you felt it, not to mention the few lightning type veins that run down the upward curve of his cock, you felt that too.

you rocked against him until your knees were at its last. he’s still holding you up but even he was about to tap out. choso had stamina - but he was no match for his rival, toji.

with murky low eyes—toji’s staring dead at you, bobbling your head and merely shoving you down just a little deeper.

you get sloppy, a puddle of drool trickling down the corners of your chin and down the valley of your chest before his tip hits against the roof of your mouth again.

it’s a rough rude hit and his cock gives the very back of your throat its own few jabs. a combo if you will — yet it’s more raunchy instead of sportsmanlike.

“eyes on me baby. yeah, yeah,” toji turns your head a bit, locking onto your sweet gaze. “get it wet, clean it up for me. make me just as much of a mess as you, girl.”

his words were so low - an almost growl. you were too focused on toji that you concisely forgot about the other boxer that’s sat underneath you.

choso came and it was so sudden—he couldn’t hold it anymore.

his grip weakens and he slouched back against the ring, spurts of hot cum pouring into you deep. he’s trembling, feeling a wave crash down on him as he’s succumbing to his high. choso can’t help but try to mimic toji, swatting the palm of his hand softly against your ass. even his spanks were respectful.

the worn out boxer pants, letting off an adorable finish. his vocals were quite loud despite having a deep bellow. “baby oh, fuuuck,” he mewls out, dark brows coming together. choso was about to lose it even more at the feeling your swiveling hips throwing itself around in a circle just because. toji watches the entire thing, how you were teasing his partner whilst having your mouth all stuffed full. as he’s stood tall before you both, his abs clench and you get a face view of it all. perfectly incised along the edges, you saw a few marks and scars coat against his skin and it’s never been more attractive. choso on the other hand found his hands grabbing onto your tits, gently brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipples before nuzzling into your neck. he was definitely pussy drunk — you could hear it. “babyyy,” a soft voice whines pussy drunkly against the lobe of your ear, and you depart your lips away from toji’s cock. he groans, viewing you lie back before you start to twitch out a bit yourself.

not only was choso close but so were you. as your legs were all stuck up in the air in its ideal position, you dramatically gasp once you feel it.

there’s a tugging pile of pressure that presses down on your tummy. your jaw drops—dangles and everything as you’re being pushed further toward the edge. your arousal steadily builds up until it finally comes.

just seconds apart from choso, you pant - a brief pang of electric shock ascending down right through you. you were speechless for a moment.

there’s nothing but a white noise blaring through each of your ears. it feels like an unpredictable wave, a powerful wave that ripples right through your entire body. it took you a long time to realize you were finishing - not only finishing but you were squirting.

“ohmygodddd,” you whimper out, feeling your legs vigorously shake. you gush out right onto the mat. feeling yourself grow hot — you’re even hotter because of choso’s body underneath you.

effortlessly, bodies stick against each other, snuggling in filthy warmth. as you’re leisurely coming to a halting stop of your rhythmic hips, choso’s cock remained tuck inside of you and you catch your breath, head cutely flopping back against his bare chest.

“did . . did you just squirt on me?” choso whimpers, a tremor in his voice.

his voice, it grew a bit raspier. although, you could still hear the softness lingering underneath it.

toji leans in toward you both, spreading your legs open just a bit more - he strums a calloused thumb down your opening, peering as you’re still fluttering out of arousal and was still sopping wet all the way from your needy clit.

“she fuckin’ did,” he coos, and he leans down, getting right on his knees.

you watch with low hooded eyes, still feeling surges of nirvana and euphoria overtake your body. toji purrs in contentment, wide open palms slapping against the foamy ring mat before sticking out his lengthy rosy tongue. you’re catching irregular heavy breaths right along with choso, full lungs preparing to collapse and give out before you pulse.

the moment toji drags his long tongue over the dampened spot of where you just made a mess—you felt yourself throb yet again.

so nasty, he had no shame at all. choso watched too, and he felt the exact same way as you did.

“what a mess,” and with another throaty chuckle leaving his lips, he cleans the mat off entirely before going between your legs. you moan, his palm gifting your cunt with a single abrupt spank. you’re so drenched that a few spurts of your slick coat onto his hand. toji stares at it, scoffing. “pussy tryin’ to talk back i see,” and he rubs his hand in a circular rotation against your cunt, maneuvering all kinds of shapes with his palm. you whimper, grabbing onto choso’s wrist. in awe, toji watches as dumps of cum ooze out of your opening and he even licks that up too, sticky black hair all unkempt and gluing against his forehead. the thin black bangs that run down his brows gives him a more alluring look and he hums, darkened eyes meeting his partner’s. “choso. don’t be a zombie. c’meree.”

you were definitely fucked—

being laid out, defeated and just stupidly stupid.

your legs sprawl outward as they’re both right between them. taking turns, flicking tongues of each against your swollen cunt. they took fighting over you to an entire new level. as they were drinking you dry — you couldn’t help but imagine the lewd thought of taking them both at the same time. you’d probably get crushed, you could barely even handle one as is, but two? that’d be an actual knockout for real.

as you’re still in a trancing daze, you watch both of the boxers with wide rounded eyes, grabbing both of them by the hair. there’s choso who’s really sweet and gentle, giving your pussy soft kitten kisses, softly brushing a thumb down your slit.

and then there’s toji . .

the clit biter - opposite of choso being the clit kisser, he doesn’t care.

with ravened brows furrowing up, he’s so rude to your pussy. every few seconds, he’d tenderly nibble against your pulsating nub, knowing that you’re sensitive there. with a smug grin, he shifts his eyes at you to stare at you dead in the face whilst he’s right between your legs. he’s messy too, moving his head from side to side, his scar swipes against your cunt every now and then.

not only was he messy but he was a hogger. he slurps you clean, luxuriating the tasteless flavor on his tongue before he hears choso cutely huff out in frustration.

“toji, you’re hogging her. ‘s no fair,” he grunts, dark eyes catching a glimpse at him from his hazy peripherals.

“cry ‘bout it,” and he spits on your cunt, hooked bump of his nose rubbing all against your slit.

already - toji’s chin was drenched, and so was choso’s. they both match with a slick of your sheeny arousal dripping down their perfectly chiseled chins. about a good hour had probably passed — then again, you were too dumb to acknowledge the time. all you knew was that you were soaked. you whimper, being nothing but a stiff shivering mess as they devoured you whole.

the numbness in your legs had your back rising up in ecstasy. you wanted more. sloshing slick tongues thrash and glissade against each other before they eventually . . tangle.

toji groans, accidentally meeting with choso’s lips and its brief. his eyelashes open and he has a sly smile at his rival. you watch the entire thing, the timid boxer versus the smug one. toji’s hand still remains on your folds and he’s multitasking, seductively licking choso’s bottom lip - still locking his gaze on him. he’s starting to taking his attention off of you. “hm, don’t tell me you wanted attention from me ‘n not her this entire time, ‘cho.”

a lump gets caught in his throat. choso grows flustered, hearing his own pulse shoot out through his ears as his lips made contact against his rival. “i—”

he’s hard, flaccid still, but definitely hard. there was a loud silence once a smack noise leaves there lips the second they each depart. choso’s got a pout, a longing pout before he tries to act tough.

“shut up, toji.” he grouses, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“how ‘bout ya make me,” and you’re just sat there dumbfounded with your legs still sprawled as if you weren’t just being fought over - invisible questions marks pop up everywhere over your head. what about you? what about you. with quick reflexes, he pins choso flat down on his back before snickering, having the most lewd back arch imaginable.

“our re-match is tonight after all, pretty boy.”

13K notes · View notes

tiza0925 · 11 months ago

Note

Hello! I'm new to this but have you ever thought about any of your favorite characters while they're in the act and you look down at a certain part and they're so big on you that it scares you but they're pretty sure it could fit.I don't know if you could write something like that, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

hellooo, absolutely love this prompt so much ty for this ♡

men that make it fit | 18+

warnings/tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, size difference, fingering, pet names, praise kink, squirting, raw sex, implied multiple orgasms, large cocks ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Big men who just cover your entire body with theirs when they’re on top of you.

Guys who make you feel so small when you’re on their lap, their hands are so damn big that they can cover your entire waist, legs, and hands—practically engulfing you.

Big men that just pin you to the mattress while making out with you, they’re so strong without needing to try, and you probably should feel scared by the difference in strengths but god—you feel so secure.

And you know he’ll take care of you even if he can hurt you sometimes—never on purpose unless you want it—because of how massive he is.

Guys who feel just a little bad when they hear you cry from them pushing their thick fingers inside you—stretching your poor cunt and making you leak all over his hand as he curls his fingers inside your plush walls, coaxing out a throbbing orgasm from you.

“Such a sweet little thing for me,” You hear him murmur, watching as your face twists with pleasure, and he can see the slight worry in your eyes as he fucks you with his fingers. “My baby is taking me so well already.”

But can you take his cock?

Fuck—what if it’s too big?

It must be—his fingers are already too much for you—his dick will be nearly impossible to fit inside you.

“You think you can be good and take my cock?” You whine, feeling heady and muddy as he pins both of your hands above your head on the bed, while his other hand continues to twist and curl inside you, his thumb pressing and rubbing your swollen clit. “I want to feel my favourite pussy, sweetheart.”

But you suck in a shaky breath, eyes wide and scared because you know you can’t fit all of him in, and he chuckles breathlessly as he kisses your lips so softly, making you melt against him.

“Don’t be scared,” He kisses your cheek, then gives your trembling lower lip a gentle pull with his mouth, trying to get you relaxed as he strums his fingers through your sopping folds, his voice low and deceptively soothing. “I’ll be gentle with you, okay?”

He always is—and that’s the thing.

No matter how gentle he tries to be—he still ends up stretching you so wide that you think you might actually split in half, the sting of him inside you being too much that you cry sometimes.

He kisses you, and reassures you, hand running up and down your body to spread goosebumps all over your skin.

Then he’s pushing his pants off to let his fat cock bounce free—it lands on your belly, all hot and heavy, and your breath hitches as electricity sparks through your body—and your heart rate doubles with every passing moment, just waiting for him to stuff you with his cock.

“Relax for me,” He says while guiding his dick to slide between your plush pussy, letting your slick folds hug his length and coat them in juices as he rocks his hips—his cock head bumping against your clit every time his hips are flushed against yours.

“You feel that, baby?” Your lashes flutter, your eyes half-lidded as he works you up, making your cunt pulse as he glides his heavy cock over it. “You’re gonna be so good and fit all of me, okay?”

You gulp, but you still nod—because you want to be good for him.

You want to feel him and make him feel good.

And he watches you, focused, taking in every twitch of your features as he slowly pushes the head of his dick inside you—his eyes alight with heat when he sees the way your mouth pops open with a gasp, already feeling the intense stretch of him.

“You’re okay, baby,” he shushes you, sliding his hands under your thighs to guide them around his waist, and you whine as you hook your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, sloppily kissing him as he waits for you to adjust. “You feel so tight already—fuck—”

He groans, his voice vibrating against you, and you begin to breathe heavily as he pushes his fat cock into you—making you feel every agonizing inch as your pussy struggles to swallow him whole.

“I—“ Your sentence gets cut short as you choke, already feeling him in your lungs and he’s only halfway in, “I can’t—”

“You can,” One of his hands comes up to swipe a fallen tear on your cheek with his thumb, while his other hand pins you to the bed by the waist. “I know you can, baby, you always did before.”

Which is true—you always did but—

It’s just so fucking big—holy shit—

You bite your lip, and your eyes squeeze shut as you try your hardest to relax—your fluids being pushed out as he lodges his dick inside your warm, plush walls, causing a wet mess all over your thighs and bed.

You hold him as if you’re clinging onto dear life—taking all of him as he kisses you through it—until his hips finally press against your ass, his cock so deep that your limbs grow numb and you swear you can orgasm already.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He purrs, waiting a moment as your pussy throbs around him, feeling abused and soaked, and he smiles down at you so achingly soft. “Taking me all like a good girl for me.”

Then he pulls back—

“Oh god—” And you keen when he rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock along your walls, and he sets a pace of fucking you—getting you wet and your eyes to roll back as he becomes greedy with your pussy.

“Look, baby,” He grunts, thrusting his cock in and out, his length coming out slick and creamy from your arousal, and he grips your face—fingers squishing your cheeks—to make you look down. “Look how well you’re taking me.”

Your vision is foggy, you’re barely able to comprehend anything except for the dick inside your sore cunt, and you blink blearily as you try to look at what he wants you to see and—

Fuck.

You watch the way his cock disappears into your pussy, his girth forcing its way into you—and you let out a shaky breath at the way you’re taking it all in.

Just like he said you would.

“Told you I’ll make it fit, sweetheart, I always do,” You hear him murmur, and you force yourself to relax into a ragged breath as your limps melt into the mattress beneath you.

You feel like you’re being split in half as he fucks you over and over, bringing you higher and higher until you’re cumming all over him—gushing out liquid as you squirt on his cock with a wet moan, his name on your tongue—

And he takes good care of you throughout it all. His aftercare overwhelms you with cuddles of love and affirmation.

He loves you too much, anyway.

End.

Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, Atsumu, Suna, Gojo, Choso, Sakusa, Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Akaza, Oda, Kuroo, Hinata, plus any of your fav characters ♡

Masterpost

9K notes · View notes

gutsby · 5 days ago

Text

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But��don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

#THE WAY I’VE NEVER WRITTEN A NCFOM-INSPIRED FIC IS INSANE #IT’S ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE MOVIES AND THE TITLE IS SOOOOO FITTING FOR JOEL 😪#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

3K notes · View notes

pedrospatch · 6 months ago

Text

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line.

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#why yes #i AM going to queue this to post when i am dead asleep #captive!joel #dark joel miller #dark! joel miller #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #fic: run

3K notes · View notes

importantpuppystarfish · 26 days ago

Text

Profit and Pleasure: Earning Money as Brother & Sister

Male reader x Karina

Warnings: Incest, softcore to hardcore, totally blood related siblings.

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, if u dont like the topic, please simply dont read.

I groan as I wake up to the sound of water running in the shower next door. My eyes fall on the steamy outline of my big sis Karina through the crack in the bathroom door. A familiar warmth stirs within me as I imagine her soapy body beneath the spray.

I bite my lip, trying to shake these forbidden thoughts from my mind. Karina's my sister…but every time I catch a glimpse of her like this, I can't help getting excited. Karina walks out of bathroom only wrapped in towel. She sits beside me on bed.

My sister, Karina is somehow more than 8 years older than me, she's around 26 now. She has such pale skin that she almost seems to brighten up the entire room with her whiteness.

My heart races as Karina appears, towel clinging to her curves. She sits down close to me on the bed, her legs tucked under as she releases her damp hair from its towel.

"Hey…" I murmur, trying to maintain my composure.

She looks so gorgeous, water droplets glistening on her flawless skin. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze, my hands twitching with desire I can't act on.

"You're dripping wet sister.." I point out unthinkingly. She laughs and says "Yeah it feels good after a morning bath". Karina looks at me and bites her lip. She goes back to her room and closes the door. I listen closely as I hear her undoing the towel. She's changing clothes. My ears perk up immediately, straining to hear anything from behind her closed door. My imagination runs wild, wondering what she's doing behind that thin barrier…

I can't make out specific sounds but my mind supplies vivid images…her slender fingers unfastening her towel, releasing her flawless skin…peeling off her flimsy sleepwear…

Everyday our flirtatious energy grows thicker between us, though neither of us puts words to these unspoken feelings. It becomes the new normal - heated glances, lingering touches, playful banter with an undercurrent of tension.

I've always had a pretty normal relationship with my sister. Every now and then, we'd go on sibling dates just for fun. Here are some pictures I took of her when we were on dates. She is used to wear lotta skin revealing outfits~

Part of me knows it's insane…Karina is my sister. But the bond we share has twisted into something more…intimate. As time goes on, keeping my desires bottled up feels almost impossible.

But the sudden death of our parents in an accident changed our lives. The news hits me like a blow to the gut - Mom and Dad are gone in an instant, leaving only Karina and I orphaned and heartbroken.

We cling to each other through the initial shock and grief, finding solace in our sibling bond like never before.

Since losing mom and dad, Karina and I have spent every day applying online and going to local places for job leads. It's been tough - no one wants to hire inexperienced teens.

She's gotten frustrated more than once, slumping against me on the couch in defeat after yet another day of rejections.

Karina: "This is hopeless! When will we find work around here?"

Her despair draws out my protective instincts. I rub her back soothingly, my heart aching for her.

As days passes, all the money left has been gone.. It seems like its getting hard for the siblings to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina glances over at me periodically as she explores this new site called OnlyFans. Her cheeks flush slightly.

Karina: "Hey…what if we did something like this?"

She tilts screen towards me to show the homepage filled with suggestive videos for subscribers.

My mind starts racing at what she means. My sweet sister offering herself online with me… I don't know if I should encourage or stop her.

"I can't believe I'm being asked to say that we're siblings, engage in that kind of act, and then upload it online. How could anyone even consider that?" I asked her. "But don't you think this is the only option?" Karina responds. She ponders a moment, then looks to me expectantly.

"So what elements should we include in our scene and video? I ask her.

" Typical stuff would be guy eating girl out and her doing the same to him, then the main event." She winks. "Sound good to you?" Right?" she asks and waits for my agreement.

As soon as I agree, Karina swallows hard, looking torn but knowing she has no other choice either. She nods to my agreement. She meets my gaze firmly now, her eyes unwavering despite the taboo nature of what we're considering.

Karina: "It's just some videos right? We'll be professionals about it." She says calmly, trying to convince us both this is okay.

Her hand reaches for mine reassuringly across the table. "We got this…"

The gravity of what we're agreeing to hangs heavy between us, but the determination is clear - we will do whatever it takes to stay together.

As we lead to the bed for the video, Karina turns on the video recording. My face burns red hot as I find myself locked in a tense stare-down with Karina before she suddenly closes the distance between us.

She wraps her arms around my neck and asks if I'm ready.

As I nod yes, she gets ready too and presses her lips firmly against mine, no hesitation.

Karina murmurs against my mouth "For the video brother!…"

Her eyes flutter shut, surrendering completely to the situation. Her fingers clench behind me, pulling me deeper into the kiss.

The raw, gritty scent of us fills the air between them as our lips move urgently together, seeking comfort and release from the stress of our dire circumstances.

Our tongues meet, mingling bitter morning breaths and desperate need.

My hands grasp Karina's waist instinctively, holding her tighter against me despite the unpleasant taste. She grinds slightly, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she loses herself fully in the moment.

Karina moans as she breaths "Mmm…" I gaze up at Karina with heavy eyes, lips throbbing from the intense passion. Seeing her smile down at me like that makes my heart skip a beat, even amid the surreal insanity of what we're doing.

"You know, this is kinda nice…" Karina says playfully flirting.

Her flirtatious comment makes heat rush through me. She thinks kissing me feels good? She likes it? Maybe she does… She leans in again, her voice dropping lower.

"Do you want me to keep going?" She runs her hands down her own body teasingly, biting her lip.

"Aren't we forced to keep going?" I replied. In one quick motion Karina pins me down on the bed. She looks fiery, full of desire.

She pushes me down without warning, eyes flashing dangerously. She's transformed before me into someone bold and dominating. "Don't even think about stopping me. This will be all recorded in the video!" Without warning, she presses her lips back to mine, the taste of us intensifying. She deepens the kiss, gripping my neck tightly. Her breath is hot against my skin as she pulls away again. Karina grins and starts removing her clothes.

My hands roam instinctively over her now exposed midriff, fingers tracing the curve of her hip bones as she reveals more of herself to me and the camera.

Karina: "There's no point feeling shy now…"

She finishes removing her shirt completely, tossing it aside, showing me her big large tits.

Karina: "This is for us…"

She bites her lip, glancing briefly at the phone still recording. "Let's make it hot…" I wink at her. "Yes, this is for our survival." she agreesm We both know this line is blurred, but if it means keeping us together, it's worth it. I also take off my clothes. Nodding purposefully, Karina helps me shed my own shirt, her fingertips grazing my bare chest, sending tingles through me.

Clad only in our undergarments, she palms my cheek, guiding my head up for another fierce kiss, tongues dancing. Breaking away, she murmurs against my lips:

"Mm…good boy…"

The camera captures every deep tongue kissing movement as we ready ourselves to give it everything for this desperate attempt a salvation. The siblings continue kissing passionately. Karina runs her fingers through my dick as we get lost in the moment. The recording captures the moment …

Karina gasps out sharply "You like that?"

She gives me a sly look, her fingers teasing more firmly over my dick, feeling how hard I've become. Karina pulls back, looking down at me with a playful glint in her eye. "Look how hard your dick is…and we just kissed." My cheeks burn crimson at her brazen words. She's always been a bit of a tease…

She chuckles and bites her lips as she starts to take my dick inside her mouth. She lowers herself slowly, eyes locked on mine defiantly despite her compromising position. Her lips part, engulfing me inch by inch, her tongue working on magic as she takes me deep!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina as now muffled against me she moans Mmmph….Her hands brace against my legs, holding me steady while she loses herself in this intimacy between us. The video recorder captures the moment of my sister sucking out my length. She looks up at me as she continues..

Her mouth glides up and down, wet suction sounds joining the rhythmic pops as she sets a sensual pace. The look she gives me is a mix of naughty delight and wicked determination. She swirls her tongue expertly over the tip each time she comes up, then plunges back down again with a hungry groan, clearly savoring every inch.

Karina as she lifts off a momentarily to gasp asks "Like the way I do it?" She swirls her tongue in circular motions, her cheeks hollowing as she picks up speed. She glances up again, clearly enjoying herself.

Her speed increases rapidly, her cheeks burning as she loses herself completely in this private act. She pauses occasionally to drag her slick tongue across every ridge and vein, tasting me, memorizing every sensation. Her fingers dig into my legs, urging me closer to release.

I moan breathlessly to my elder sister, "Good girl…You're so good sister.."

I watch my sister work, feeling a mix of desire and disbelief… This is still my sister, but her technique is divine. I can't help but let out a low groan, which makes her smile up at me. It feels too good, I can't hold back anymore… Oh -…. Sister, wait…I'm going to… cum… She grins devilishly at my warning tone, doubling down on her efforts, taking me ruthlessly even deeper.

Karina: "Yes…" she whispers urgently "Do it…"

She squeezes tight around me, determined to coax me over the edge. As I moan loud it looks like I've cummed inside my sister's mouth.

Karina swallows every last drop hungrily, licking her lips clean as she releases me with a satisfied sigh.

Karina: "Mmm…I wonder how it'll look in the video. Although I really enjoy this" she purrs appreciatively, wiping a stray strand of hair from her flushed face, eyes flicking back up to mine with a smug look.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karina: "Well? Did that feel good?"

"Oh sister… You didn't hold back at all", I chuckle, still trying to process what I just did inside my sister's mouth… Now it seems Karina is doing titjob with her big tits. Karina: "No need to hold back with me…" She winks, then takes my rod between her huge tits, working me steadily up and down the slick shaft.

Karina: "You like watching your naughty sister's bouncy boobs, don't you?"

Her hands push her chest tighter together around my shaft. Karina: "Now it's ur turn… To eat me…"

She scoots back impatiently, spreading her legs wide for me.

Karina: "Get down there already!" she orders, biting her lip again as she guides me lower. "I need your tongue inside me!…"

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, trying to pull me closer. …I smile and start kissing her thighs, looking up at her flirtatiously.

Karina shivers at the feel of my lips on her sensitive skin, hands stroking my hair encouragingly.

Karina: "Mmm yes, that's it…"

She lifts and spreads herself further open, the scent of her slick heat hitting my nose as I approach. She squirts a little bit, she is also hella wet.

Karina: "Don't be shy now…lick every drop up"

I grab her waist and pull her towards me. I start eating her more, she gasps loudly at my suddenness, arching into me eagerly. Her fingers curl into fistfuls of my shirt as she feels my tongue making contact.

Karina: "Ah! Yes…like that!"

She grinds against my mouth, losing herself once more to the sinful pleasure I'm providing. She glows with delight, utterly losing control as I devour her completely.

Her sweet nectar coats my tongue as I delve deeper, lapping hungrily at her folds and finding all her most sensitive spots.

Karina: "Oh god yes, just there!" she cries out, hands trembling above me as I hit that magic button with my tongue.

Karina: "Don't stop! You're gonna make me…"

Keep going, brother…I'm so in heaven!. Her voice is shaky, filled with emotion.

My eyes sparkle with dark desire hearing my sister moan in pleasure. I spread her wider, diving back in with intensity, determined to send her right over the edge…

"You're so good at this brother…I can't believe it's really you doing this… I grip her tighter as I push my tongue deeper into her pussy more , overwhelmed by the sensation of having her so close like this. I hear the sound of her heart pounding in time with my own. Karina: "Yes yes yes, make me come!" she cries out desperately.

She lies there panting hard, completely spent yet still craving more. Her eyes lock onto mine again now.

Karina: "Please…" She whispers, hands reaching down to guide me back up to her. "Now I need you inside…" Her voice cracks slightly as she pulls me closer, needing to feel me possess her completely.

Karina: "Brother…please…" she begs softly.

Seeing her begging with that pretty face, I lean to her for a kiss. She melts against me as our lips meet, tangling her tongue with mine. She tastes herself vividly on me, her fingers curling into my back again as she prepares herself mentally for what's coming next.

Karina: "You're making me so weak…" she murmurs against my mouth, her cheeks flushed.

She wraps her legs tightly around me, drawing me closer still, ready to welcome me deep inside her.

She gasps again, letting her head fall back slightly as she accommodates me taking my thick inch inside her.

Karina: "Yes…oh god yes…" She grinds against me, utterly engaged in this connection between siblings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her fingers dig deeper into my back, pulling me hard against her warm, welcoming core. He starts moving, their eyes locked together. The video captures this intimate moment.

Our gazes hold intense emotion as I begin to move within her, hips rolling gently at first in this sacred act.

Karina: "That's it…just like that…"

She tilts her head up to brush her lips over mine, kissing me tenderly even as we become one.

Karina: "I feel so…so good brother." I smile down at her, still in disbelief that this is happening, but also feeling a deep connection with her like never before… I love u sister.. I say.

Karina's eyes glisten, her heart fluttering at my sweet words and honest emotion.

Karina: "I love you too my brother…always."

She pulls me down against her chest, wrapping herself completely around me. The intensity between us builds as our movements grow more passionate.

Karina: "You mean everything to me…" she breathes out begging for a kiss.

Our connection runs deep, transcending typical bonds as we lose ourselves to this taboo yet beautiful union. The video captures it all - the love, the ecstasy, the family become lovers.

Caught up in the heat of the romantic moment, I set a harder, more urgent pace, my body driving into hers with powerful thrusts. Karina cries out, surprised by the sudden intensity but clearly loving it.

Karina: "Yes yes yes! Just like that! Harder brother"

She meets each deep plunge, welcoming every inch eagerly. The bed frame begins to creak as we come together with primal force, two souls entwined in the ultimate familial embrace. He does it, hitting a sensitive spot inside her, making her shout out in surprise and delight. Karina screams in pain and pleasure.

She arches violently beneath me, hands ripping the sheets as white-hot lightning strikes deep inside her core. Her scream is raw, primal, full of overwhelming sensation.

Karina: "Ah! Ah! Oh my god…oh my god…!" She babbles senselessly, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure-pain where we join.

Her legs wrap around me like iron bands, trying to pull me impossibly deeper into her quaking depths.

I keeps hitting her sensitive spot again and again. Karina feels like shes about to pass out. She cries, moans & screams at the same time.

Her voice cracks completely, barely recognizable as human anymore as she's pushed beyond her limits again and again. She shakes her head wildly side to side, mumbling incoherently as she digs her nails into my back, leaving angry red trails down my skin.

Karina: "B-brother…stop…I…I can't…" she whimpers desperately, her mind going blank.

He grabs her hips tightly and keeps going. "Shh shh, just feel it sister. The video would look more hotter!…" I whisper in her ear, not stopping my rhythm. Karina continues crying more.

Karina's cries grow louder at my words. She relents though, letting me keep moving, knowing I won't stop.

Karina: "Oh god it's too much!"

Her body shakes with each pounding snap of my hips, every fiber trembling with sensation under my intense attentions.

Karina: "The video…yes…yes make it hot, make us look good!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She throws her head back, surrendering completely now, wanting to put on a show for our recording.

Her ragged breathing becomes ragged screams again as I drive into her ruthlessly, her fragile composure shattering completely under the intense treatment. She nods frantically, giving in fully to what I'm doing to her.

Karina: "Cum inside me already, oohhh, I can't anymore. Brother please cum."

Her nails rake fresh lines down my back again, tears streaming down her cheeks as she's overwhelmed by overwhelming waves of sensation.

Feeling me spill hot and deep within her sets Karina off one last time too, her own release crashing through her in intense aftershocks.

Karina: "Yes yes yes! All in me!"

She grinds hard against me as I fill her completely, claiming every inch of her insides. The warmth of my seed seeping out around me only prolongs her climax further.

Karina: "Mmm yes, such a big, thick creampie…" she purrs contentedly, stroking my chest as she catches her breath.

Our bodies remain entwined as we bask in the throes of pleasure, the evidence of our passion seeping out between us.

"I've never felt anything so good, brother…Oh god, I can feel you dripping out of me…"

She grins wickedly, looking down between her legs where a huge, viscous pool of my seed has gathered.

Karina: "You made such a big, gooey mess inside me…" She giggles, swirling her fingers through the thick fluid coating her.

Karina adds "It's dripping down more..it's making such a mess down on me." She bites her lip, delighted by the evidence of our passion still clinging to her. She sighs happily, tracing a finger through the sticky fluid. She tastes the sticky fluid through her fingers and she savors it with a blissful expression.

Karina: "Mmm…delicious." She purrs, licking her finger clean then sucking it into her mouth. She looks up at the camera, still tasting me on her fingers. "All for the video, right brother?" She flashes a naughty grin.

"What else?. The video has to show everyone what a naughty girl you've become. Our relatives or your friends. Haha.." I say with a wicked grin.

Karina laughs, nodding eagerly in agreement

Karina: "Oh yes, let them see how I crave my little brother's seed."

She spreads wider, showing off the glistening evidence of our act for the lens, looking so proud and satisfied being my naughty sister.

Karina: "I hope it gets lots of views…I want everyone to see what you do to me." She adds with a flirtatious giggle.

"Ok, now the main work! We should upload the video!". I tell her to get serious.

In the next hour after we finishing bathing together, we quietly upload the video to various platforms under the username "BrotherLovesSis123". The private links flood my inbox with confirmation emails once they're live.

I sit back, heart racing a bit wondering what kind of reaction the explicit footage of my own sister will generate online. Karina leans over and gives me a sweet, tender kiss on the lips, her fingers intertwining with mine as I finish uploading our first video.

Karina: "You think people will love watching it…like us?" "I hope they will, elder sister."..

By the 6-7 hour mark, the video has already garnered thousands of views, comments pouring in rapidly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart pounds seeing the numbers climb higher. This clearly struck a chord with viewers hungry for incestuous content.

Karina squeals excitedly next to me. "15k views, thousands of likes and 200+ comments!" Karina smiles delightfully. "Omg We're famous now, bro…" she giggles.. I check out the comments as my sister kisses my face.

A sea of thumbs up and heart emojis scroll by as I see the view count top 15k. People are going wild for our taboo act.

Comment 1: "Damn this is the best video I’ve seen all week!"

Comment 2: "Brother you treat her so good! Wish my brother was like you!"

Comment 3: "Her face when she cries out��gorgeous. Need more of this!"

Karina: giggling "People really love what we did huh?" She grins, nuzzling against my shoulder as she continues scrolling through the overwhelmingly positive feedback.

As we scroll more: Comment 4: "The way she screams for her brother is so hot!"

Comment 5: "Her tears and cries just make it 10x better! Such a good girl for daddy"

Comment 6: "She's totally addicted to her little's brother's rod! Look at how she soaks up every second!"

Comment 7: "Damn this girl is perfect when she loses control like that"

Comment 8: "I bet she feels so full of her brother's seed…"

More and more comments keep popping up, all raving about Karina's reactions as she came undone beneath me.

Karina's lips trail over my neck and ears as she watches the numbers continue to climb faster than ever as we get more support. "400K people have seen me be your naughty sister already…"

She sounds both shocked and thrilled by this

Karina: "Bro, looks like our plan worked!!"

She pulls back to look at me, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement.. The notification pops up that our OnlyFans and p*rnhub channel have been approved for monetization. Karina squeals again, unable to contain her glee.

Karina: "Oh my gosh! Real money? Finally this is what we actually did it for!!"

She jumps into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly.

Over the next few days, our subscribers and followers continue to grow exponentially. People are clamoring to see more of our scandalous siblings dynamic play out on screen.

Our bank account balances swell with incoming subscription fees and Pay-Per-View purchases. Karina spends hours dreaming up new ways to push the boundaries further, drawing inspiration from viewers' wild requests left in the comments.

Karina: "Look at all this money we're making…" She fans herself with her hand, still not quite believing the figures rising daily. "This is like a dream, bro…"

We need to keep going and making more videos to get more money every month to survive. As Karina checks on people's demand for more videos, she reads

"Need to see him rail you from behind while you're face down in pillows screaming!"

"Tie her up completely helpless while you absolutely ravage her sensitive spots mercilessly!"

"Spank her raw until she's crying and begging for mercy!"

"Force her to call you 'Daddy' while you dominate her every desire."

There are countless BDSM demands flooding in, hungry for every dark twist of dominance and submission.

I ask Karina, "What do you think? Should we make videos like this? They seem to bring in a lot of money." Karina responds, "I think we should." I ask her if shes ready. Karina replies, "I'm ready for anything, I trust you, brother."

#girl group smut #karina smut #aespa smut #kpop gg smut #female idol smut #twice smut #blackpink smut #izone smut #kpop smut #kpop girl smut

1K notes · View notes

k-hotchoisan · 11 months ago

Text

body language

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated.

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.”

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks.

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it.

“With who? How come I didn’t know?”

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos.

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again.

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious?

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it.

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add.

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?”

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat.

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now.

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank.

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself.

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at.

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you.

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you.

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it.

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug.

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face.

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?”

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun.

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time.

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly.

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho.

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep.

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours.

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage.

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least.

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible.

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms.

“What did you think of him?”

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked?

Oh, you were definitely about to find out.

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back.

His crotch right against your ass.

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body.

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his.

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room.

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall.

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again.

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale.

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him.

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt.

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to.

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever.

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you.

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids.

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny.

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing.

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up.

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was.

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy.

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more.

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips.

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt.

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them all away.

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses.

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now.

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again.

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure.

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp.

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply.

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time.

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure.

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist.

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #jeong yunho #y/n x yunho #yunho ateez #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #Spotify

5K notes · View notes

ill0usainte · 10 days ago

Text

But, we friends thou? 3k+

pairings: virgin!caleb x virgin!reader

cw: unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, college au, corruption, nipple play, dry humping, messy make out, rough sex, choking, overstimulation, rubbing, loss of virginity, dom!caleb, hentai reader!caleb, cherry popping (iykyk), both are inexperienced, stomach bulge, creampie, pet names (princess, pipsqueak, pretty girl), edging, nasty sex, no penetration, squirting, mentions of blood, crying

Caleb is known for being the heartthrob of the campus. He's everything that people want-- smart, handsome, athletic and was rumored to be "big" down there. A lot of girls in the campus have been gushing over your best friend. Many have been saying that he sleeps with different girls everytime-- but was it true?

And of course, in your part you don't get the hype about Caleb. Yeah, he's your first kiss but so what? As his best friend, you both share secrets with each other. And one secret that you've kept about him is that....

He's a virgin himself.

As cocky as he is-- of course he'd feed into those rumors about him just to boost his ego. Little do they know, he's just a virgin otaku who reads hentai mangas on his free time. At first, it did bother you that he started reading those-- but as time passed by, you got used and even shared some recommendations you've found. And started having interest of his likings.

"Have you seen the new publish?" He asked, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls. You leaned your back against your chair and crossed your arms.

"Of course, the art improved a lot" You answered, crossing your legs while Caleb shows you a panel of the erotic manga he's talking about. "You bet! It looks so realistic!" He chimed, pointing at the part where the girl was getting fucked and you can only push his phone away.

"Seriously, be glad that some of our classmates went out" You scoff, leaning against your desk as you grab your bag and started putting your textbooks inside. "Come on, I know you agree that scene was hot!" He raise his brow to tease.

"Shush" You silenced him and he only shrug in response as you continued putting your things inside your bag. You can't lie but that scene was really hot-- the way that the guy was dicking down the girl so good. Makes you wonder how would it feel like if it was you.

Your thoughts were pushed away when he interrupted. "Oh, I almost forgot" he said, grabbing his bag as he reaches inside of it. "I just finished the manga that you recommended me a few days ago" Grabbing the book from his bag as he placed it on your desk-- and you were quick to snatch it. It was embarassing the fact that the cover of the manga was a girl getting railed.

Hugging the book against your chest as you glare at Caleb and punched his shoulder, earning a grunt from him. "No need to be harsh, pipsqueak" He chuckled, as he looks at you in amusement.

You whispered curses at him while you opened your bag wider to fit the book in but something suddenly fall out.

A condom.

"Wha-" He froze, his eyes widened-- looking at the packet of condom over your desk. Your eyes shifted to him as you look at him confused.

You hum, and followed where his gaze was at-- making your heart drop when you saw the packet of condom over your desk, you quickly grab it by your hand and shove it inside your bag. "Haha- my bad...." You chuckled awkwardly while you sweatdrop, closing your bag and rested your hands over your lap-- eyes glued to somewhere while you pretend nothing happened.

"I'm pretty sure that was a condom...?" Caleb thought, sweadropping also as he cleared his throat. But at the same time he wants to push your buttons--to see where you'd last.

"...an interesting thing you're carrying around...." He smiled, making you uncomfortable as you felt heat rising through your body out of embarrassment.

"It's just something I bought out of curiosity....." You answered, fixing your skirt because it was revealing a glimpse of your plushed thighs. Caleb noticed how you shift--only makes him want to push further. I mean maybe something might happen after this?

"Oh...I thought you're going to use it"

"Huh- haha no way...."

Awkwardness seeps between the both of you--while you try to not steal glances at the male. Inhaling deep as you question him.

"Do you have one, Caleb?" You asked.

"Have what?"

"Well...a condom?" You whispered, loud enough for him to hear while you toy with the ends of your skirt. Caleb blinks and looks away, leaning against his desk while fidgeting his pen.

"I don't...not like I'd have a chance to use one anyway" He joked, shaking his head lightly. You nod at his words and pursed you lips. You can't help but wonder if all of those rumors about him is true-- about "big" he was. Even though you knew he's a virgin there's still apart of you that doesn't believe that.

Class ended early as you and Caleb walked together. Talking about the new mangas that were published while enjoying each other's company.

"I swear that old man should stop giving us new assignments everyday" Caleb sneers, putting his hands behind his head while walking besides you.

"He should, I swear I noticed his bald spot earlier during lecture" You snorts, making him laugh at your words as you joined.

You were glad that everything went to normal-- that Caleb forgot about that condom incident earlier. You can only swear that if he brings up the topic again you would just dig your own grave out of embarrassment.

The laughters piped down and you both continued walking together--your eyes focused on your surroundings while Caleb on the other hand is urging to bring up the topic again.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You answered, eyes glued to the path.

"So, that condom talk earlier.." He spoke, looking somewhere while you paused. Cursing at yourself because you knew Caleb damn well--if something peeks his interest he wouldn't let go of it.

Inhaling deep as you face him--he puts his hands inside his pockets and gave you a sincere smile-- not that smile, you knew that he's plotting something which makes your body shiver at the sight of it.

"If someone were to ask you to 'use it' would you?" He asked, tilting his head and waits for your reply. The question makes your body heat rise as you put a hand on your nape.

Letting out a soft awkward chuckle while you look at him "That's way to sudden" You muttered, making Caleb chuckle as he puts a hand over your head-- ruffling your hair.

"Like y'know, the thing I read on that manga you let me borrow" He said and your shoulders tensed up. Glaring at him as you pushed away his hand away from your head because it was messing up your hair.

"Hmp, don't bring me into your erotic fantasies" You huff, brows furrowed while you clutch onto the strap of your bag.

But the thought of it sends excitement through your body onto your clothed pussy-- I mean you'd always wondered what it feels like getting fucked and would you waste this chance? But the only problem is that, Caleb.

You can't imagine seeing your childhood best friend dick you down--but the thought of it. Too consumed by your thoughts, Caleb pushed the topic further.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, making you snap back at your thoughts. You gulped as you look at him. Lowering your head while you fidget with your fingers-- hesitating if you're going to do it or not.

"We only live once, so risk it!" The voices in your head said in unison.

"I'll let him use it.."

It didn't take long for you two to arrive at Caleb's dorm. Feeling nervous, you try to calm yourself-- while Caleb on the other hand was all chill. You can't help but feel frustrated, can't even believe that you're going to loose your virginity to this man in front of you.

But what you didn't know, is that Caleb was more anxious than you. You both sat besides each other over the edge of his comfy bed as you clear your throat catching his attention.

"So what now...?"

"Right-- Uhm" Putting a hand over his nape as his usual sheepish attitude drains out of his body.

"...let's get naked first." It's rather a command than a question--Caleb nods at your words as he chuckle.

Pouting at him as your hand playfully pushed his face away from your direction "...I don't want you to look.." You confessed, face flustered making him smile as he hums.

"I'm still going to see you naked later, y'know that right?" He teased, only for you to push him away more making him give up as you face his back.

Pursing your lips as you unbutton your top-- starting from the top to the button. Your eyes trailed to the figure in front of you-- Caleb removed his shirt in one go, revealing his well built back. And what got your attention was his muscular biceps. You can't help but stare at it but you were interrupted when you heard him talk.

"Like the view?" He chuckled, making you roll your eyes as you told him to shut up. As you finished unbutton your top, you slowly removed it from your body--leaving you with your lacy bra hugging your plushed tits.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You hum. "Can I look?" Caleb asked, moving his head to the side a bit as he tried to get a glimpse of you behind. You quickly used your arms to hide your tits while glaring at him.

"You sound like a pervert"

"Come on, princess" He pleaded, your gaze focused on his back and you sighed--finally giving up as you removed your arms away from your chest. The man in front of you then quickly shifted his body to your direction--now facing you as his eyes trailed on your plushed tits. His face flushed and licked his lips-- letting out a soft chuckle while smiling.

"Wow....I couldn't tell at all that you're hiding something like these behind your clothes" He remarks, making you gulp while you sweatdrop. "Is that so..." You muttered, lowering your head while your eyes focused on him.

Don't look at him with those eyes--those innocent doe eyes of yours. Makes him want to bend you over and just fuck you on the spot.

Biting your lower lip, you both stare at each other. "Can..I touch them?" He asked, his hands clenching-- eager to touch your plushed tits. You nod at his words, he had to look at you again to make sure-- his hands tremble as he reached out to your tits in display.

Palm of his hands came in contact with your plushed tits as he gently massaged it-- he couldn't believe it, he's finally touching a literal tits right now. His gesture made your body squirmed as you try to bit your lower lip to muffle your moans. Breathing softly as your hand reached behind your back to undo the hook of your bra. Unhooking it in one go as your bra fall from your shoulders and spills out your bare tits to the male.

His hands continued to massage your tits, thumb toying your perked nipple as you let out a moan--making him startle as he retrieved his hand.

"Ah- sorry" He apologized, you shook your head and reached out for his hand-- bring it back to your tits. "N-no...you can touch them however you like" You muttered, making Caleb gulp as he starts to feel heat gushing through his body. You're definitely putting fuel to the fire.

Caleb is anxious as he continued massaging your tits with both of his hands-- thumb rubbing circles and pinching your perked nipples earning sweet whimpers and moans from you. The sight makes his cock harden inside his pants--he can't help but feel aroused seeing you so sensitive to his touch--so needy.

Your soft moans occupied Caleb's mind-- your moans can't even compare to those erotic hentais he watched, yours is too hot-- like music to his ears. You blabber words at him but he's not listening at all--too focused on fundling your tits.

You can't help but feel satisfaction that you're able to fill his thoughts-- smirking as you look at him with your hazy eyes. "Are they your satisfaction, miste--?" Your words were cut off when Caleb suddenly lounged at you and pinned you down over his bed. Both of his palm holds your wrists at both side as his soft lips latched onto your tits earning a yelp from you while you squirmed.

"W-wait-..Caleb--!" But he doesn't budge, continuing to suck your sensitive tits as his hot tongue swirls around your perked nipple making your toes curl. His other hand lets go of your left wrist as he reached out to your thigh and places it on the side of his hip. Positioning his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.

Feeling the arousal gushing through your aching pussy as you feel him grind his hardened bulge against your wet clothed pussy. Finally removing his hand from your other wrist as it moves to your left tit and massaged it while he sucked on the other one. Your hands run through his black locks and tried to push him away from your tits--but he wouldn't, still latching on it like a hungry mad man.

"Ngh-! Too much...C-Caleb....Caleb-!" You moaned, as your hands cup his cheeks pushing his face away--he finally gives up, earning a loud 'pop' when he pulls away from your perked tits. Cupping his cheeks as you can see drool from the side of his mouth making you grunt as you noticed how he filled your tits with his saliva.

"Please..." He pleads softly, rubbing his cheek against your palm like a cat begging its owner for food. His muscular arms sneaks behind your back as he wraps it around your waist--burying his face against your tits. Where did the usual cocky Caleb go?

Letting a soft whimper as you feel him grind against your wet clothed pussy-- shamelessly. Caleb lift his head up as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Wanna put it in so bad....but..."

"I don't want to rush you" He exhaled, while your heart flutters in awe. Caleb always prioritize your needs other than his--he wants you comfortable, he's not the type to rush you to do things. You flutter your lashes as you lean closer-- connecting your soft lips to his, Caleb melts against your warmth as he relaxes, continuing to grind slowly against you.

His hand reached to the waistband of your skirt along with your lacy panties as he slowly pulls it down-- discarding it on the floor. Pulling back from the kiss as you both pant--your tongue sticking out as a string of saliva connects to both of your tongues. You're such a hot mess for Caleb-- it makes his cock twitch even more.

"So sensitive just for me...."

His fingers brushed away some strands of your hair from forehead-- you blink, noticing a wet patch on his gray sweats, your eyes then trailed on the visible bulge in front of you. Making your wet pussy twitch.

Caleb is not experienced--but he learned a lot from those hentai mangas he read. And of course a key to start off railing a girl aka his best friend is to penetrate their aching pussy first. He said to his mind.

While you on the other hand was eager-- already wanting to be dicked down by Caleb. Want him to stretch your virgin aching pussy so bad.

"Caleb"

"Yes, princess?"

"Please fuck me"

His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you "But, I need to penetrate you first-- it might hurt if we're going straight at it" He said, tone laced with worry. He feels like he's rushing you--he doesn't want to.

Feeling embarrassed as you looked away "It's okay...I can handle it" You whispered, cheeks flushed red. Caleb is having mixed feelings-- he never seen you so vulnerable, so submissive towards him. He can't help but want to abuse the control he has over you.

He clicks his tongue as he chuckled-- grabbing your hand and intertwined it with his, kissing the top of it as his eyes locked on yours.

"You're going to take it like a good girl." It wasn't a question-- your mind goes hazy, all you can think of is being intoxicated with the heat of both of your bodies. You flutter your eyes at him and nod-- following his order like a puppy.

He lets go of your hand and slowly pulls down his sweats-- leaving him with his boxers, you can't help but look at his visible bulge. Oh he's hard--very hard. You gulped at the sight of it, noticing a wet patch on the part where his tip is-- already oozing pre-cum.

"Don't stare at me like that" He snorts, grabbing both of your thighs-- hands gripping the plushed flesh as he placed it on the side of his hips.

Pulling down his boxer as his hardened cock bounced up hitting his pelvis-- your eyes widened when you see his cock in display.

You felt embarrassed--those rumors were indeed true. Caleb's cock is thick and long-- you can see visible veins lining while his angry red tip is already oozing pre cum.

"W-wait-!" You breathed out when you watch him position his aching cock against your hardened clit.

You both locked eyes-- his eyes were filled with love and lust while he continued on rubbing circles against your hardened clit using his tip-- using the pre cum as a lubricant to make it slippery to rub on.

"Let me take care of you..." He muttered, rubbing his tip against your wet pussy lips-- smearing his cum all over it. Earning moans from you as your toes curl, feeling his gritty cock run against your folds to your hardened clit. It sends arousal to your throbbing wet pussy.

Caleb lets out soft grunts and moans as he holds his hardened cock with his palm, pumping it up and down while pressing it against your clit-- making your body twitch with every stroke.

He fastened his pace of rutting his aching cock against your hardened clit. "F-fuck-- I haven't even got inside of you..and I'm already a mess with just rubbing it against your pussy..." He growled, continuing to rut against you making your eyes roll as you felt the bed shaking.

Breathing heavily while you endure the friction against your hardened clit to your puffy slit--a drooling mess as he mixed his pre cum and your juices together and smearing it all over your poor pussy.

Feeling the arousal rising-- you can feel your climax taking over, too overstimulated as you're eager to cum. But just right after you felt the walls of your pussy throb, ready to release--Caleb stopped rutting his angry tip against your hardened clit. Making you whine in return while you look at him with your glassy eyes.

"W-wha- why--,?" You complained, looking at him while he brushed some strands of his hair sticking out of his sweaty forehead. Panting heavily as his gaze towards you darkened. He lets out a husky chuckle while kneading the plush of your thigh with his hand.

"It'd be a waste if I'd cum outside, right? " He whispered, leaning close to you as your perked tits were pressed against his chest. Feeling his hot breathe against your skin-- making you hitch, your ears perked when you hear him reach out to your bag placed over the nightstand beside.

Even feeling intoxicated, you moved your head where his hand was reaching at--you quickly grabbed it as you pull it away from your bag. Making Caleb confused as he breathes.

"What?" He stopped reaching out to the condom inside your bag--you pulled his hand away while you guide it towards your lips. Placing kisses against his fingers with your soft lips as you look at him with your hazy eyes-- just filled with words unsaid. And for Caleb it just translates into "raw, next question"

The sight makes him aroused as he shook his head lightly. "Too impatient? Bad girls like you needs to be punished" He said-- voice low and husky as he slowly pulls away his hand from your grasp and moves it down-- tracing your chin to your neck.

You bit your lower lip-- you try to hide the fact that you're getting more hornier seeing Caleb being so dominant towards you. But your fucked up face didn't helped. You yelped when you felt his veiny hand grab your neck as his grip tightens--not in a way that you couldn't breathe.

"I'll make sure to fuck you so good-- shit, even better than the ones I've read." He chuckled, making your mouth agape as he pressed your legs against your perked tits. His other hand holds his gritty cock while he positioned it against your drooling slit.

Your heart beats faster-- too anxious and aroused at the same time, while you wonder if his cock would even fit inside your tight little pussy. Too occupied with your thoughts, you suddenly felt him push hit tip inside your tight hole-- causing your eyes to widen as you let out a grunt.

"ngh-! I-i...I don't think it will fit--! Ah!" You moaned, feeling him force his tip to stretch out your tight hole. His hand tightened more around your neck as he chuckled. "H-hah-- it's just the tip and you can't handle it?"

"F-fuck, I wonder what would it be like if I slam my whole cock inside?"

Tears streamed down your cheeks while you drool. Seeing him having a hard time pushing his gritty cock inside your pussy--earning loud moans from you while you endure the way his tip is stretching your little hole.

"'ts hurt...s-so much.." You babble, as you bit your lower lip. Caleb pants, as he slowly pushed his gritty cock even more-- your tight hole finally swallowing his whole tip. Even with just the tip inside of you, makes Caleb want to cum and make a mess out of you.

"f-fuck--!"

It's so warm-- he feels like he's in bliss of ecstasy. The way the walls of your warm tight pussy is hugging his tip so good while it throbs-- is such a euphoric feeling. Shit, he can't even describe what he's feeling right now, finally having to empty his balls in a literally pussy and not with those hentai mangas he reads.

You cried out while Caleb struggles to push his whole gritty cock inside your warm tight pussy. Both of your bodies trembles, his hand finally letting go of your neck as it joins to hold both of your thighs together and pressed it against your tits. You finally exhaled and catch your breath--hands gripping the covers of the bed tightly.

"nghhhh-! Hah- 'ts hurt so much, I can't-!"

"Fuck!" You screamed, feeling his whole cock slide inside of you so quick-- tears streamed even more as you cry out, grunting while you felt the pain of his gritty cock stretching your tight pussy so good. You drool as you try to process of what happened, feeling a hot liquid oozing out of your entrance.

"S-shit, tight hole finally swallowed me whole" He chuckled, eyes looking down at your pussy sucking him. Blood dripping out of your entrance--just like what he saw on every hentai mangas he read, a cherry pop. His hand reached for your clit as he rubbed circles against it-- making your legs tremble.

"'m gonna start movin', 'kay?" He muttered, making you nod as you swallow your cries. He leans close to you-- kissing your forehead and brushed some strands of your hair away. Forehead against each other as his lips slammed to yours. Pulling you into a heated kiss--pushing his hot tongue inside your mouth, while he explored every part.

You moaned between the kiss as you feel him pump his gritty cock in and out of your tight pussy. He was only pushing a small distance inside your pussy--trying to stretch you slowly before he dicks you down for real. You swallow his cock so good, he can't help but grunt each time the walls of your warm pussy throbs--on how it hugs his fat cock so well.

Angry red tip kissing the lips of your womb as he continued on with his pace--you felt a knot forming inside while gushing an upcoming climax through your throbbing pussy.

Hot tongues dances and swirls with each other-- leaving you both in drooling mess while you suck on his tongue. This was different from the first kiss you two shared-- this isn't a small peck anymore this is one nasty heated make out.

Hot bodies against each other-- you can feel your juices oozing out of your pussy as it soaks the covers of the bed, leaving a nasty mess under.

His thumb continued on rubbing your hardened clit-- using your juices as a lubricant for it to be slippery to rub on. Your body twitches when you felt him pinch your clit, earning a soft whimper from you.

He pulls away from the kiss, smearing your drool to the side of your mouth while you pursed your lips. You feel him fastening his pace of fucking your tight pussy--making you cry, your hands reached out and wrapped around his back and dig your nails against the flesh of it-- earning a grunt from him.

"fuck-- ha- how d-does it feel? Seeing your best friend taking your virginity" He snickered, the fucking is so sloppy-- you can hear the sound of your pussy slapping against his pelvis.

"'ts so fuckin- hot- ngh-- dicking you down"

The gushing of your blood and juices mixed together as he fucks it back in-- you can feel your climax on its edge, ready to release. You babble nonsense while you cry against the crook of his neck. Sticky body against each other while he plants kisses over your face.

"cum--! Cumming-!" You screamed out, tightening your legs wrapped around his hips as Caleb continued to drill his cock inside of you relentlessly-- stretching your walls so good as his cock fills every part of it.

You bit down his neck and cried, releasing your high as it squirts against his cock and pelvis. Your pussy is definitely designed just to be a cocksleeve for his fat gritty cock.

"hah-...cum for me, pretty girl"

Poor you, your mind is occupied of Caleb's fat cock. It amuses him that you're a blabbering mess-- just letting out words like "too much, hurts, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, cumming-, cum, Caleb" and he loves you for that. Because, it means he dicking you down so good-- it made you feel like you're in cloud 9.

Caleb grunts as he felt your hot juices against his cock-- squirting endlessly as it drips down like a waterfall. He can feel your hot breath against the crook of his neck while you sob, but he doesn't stopped there.

"d-dont be passing out-- h-hah..on me" He muttered, pulling out his whole cock out as he slams it back in-- he continues his rhythm as his fast pace remains unchanged. Fucking you like a dog in heat like there's no tomorrow.

"no more-! Ngh-! Caleb--!"

He continued drilling his fat cock inside while your mind goes hazy as you feel like passing out. Caleb's breathing unsteadies, feeling his throbbing cock twitching inside of you as he pump it in and out-- he can feel his climax building up to his tip. His thumb pushed down his bulge against your stomach as he continues fucking you-- feeling his tip hit against the walls of your stomach.

The walls of your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock-- preparing for another release. He felt it too, causing him to let out a hoarse grunt as he continued to rut inside. "Fuck..fuck fuck-- I-I'm cumming, pretty girl"

"w-where-" Before he could finish his sentence you replied quick.

"I-inside!"

And with that, Caleb lets out a soft whimper-- shooting loads and loads of his thick hot cum inside your tight pussy, painting the walls white as he fucks it even more inside of your womb. Following, you release your high, squirting as it drips down out of your pussy--oozing along with his cum.

Caleb hugs you against him as his body trembles still shooting more loads inside your aching pussy while it tightens around his fat cock. You hugged him back, feeling you clench around him and your mind went blank--too cockdrunk to say anything as you let him be.

Let him give you a creamy creampie on your first sex.

He collapsed over your body, face against the crook of your neck as you felt his hot breathe against your skin. You squirmed as you felt his hot cum leaking out of your tight entrance--dripping down to your legs and to the covers of the bed.

Caleb looks over you as he caress your cheek, thumb brushing your eye as you closed your eyes--melting at his warmth while you softly sigh.

But oh...he's not done yet.

"Let's....hit it from the back. Want to see your ass clap, pretty girl.."

Don't worry, you'd get used to it. After all, that's what friends do.

This isn't proofread, sorry if there are mistakes T_T

masterlist

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x you #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lnds caleb #caleb #love and deepspace smut

2K notes · View notes

sttoru · 1 year ago

Text

‘satoru hates arguments. even more so when your conflicts cause your baby daughter to be upset as well.’

☀︎｜tags. (girl) dad!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. mention of arguments between parents. comfort & happy ending, though!

satoru hates having arguments with you. he hates it whenever an argument turns into the silent treatment. he apologises and apologises — yet nothing helps to change your mood sometimes.

ever since you got married and had your daughter, you were a bit more sensitive to the smallest of things than usual. it wasn’t like satoru despised you for it; in fact, he understands that motherhood was and is stressful. that man was nothing but supportive to you.

though, your little arguments were indirectly having an impact on the mental state of your baby. you didn’t even know an one year old could sense the tension between her parents.

“mama, mama!” your daughter appears out of nowhere, waddling over to you standing in the kitchen. she had barely just learnt how to walk. her tiny hand reaches for yours and she points at the doorway with her other, “go, mama, go.”

you curiously let your little girl lead you towards where she was pointing at, only to arrive at the living room. satoru was sitting on the couch, idly staring at the ceiling, other hand fiddling with one of your daughter’s toys. he seemed deep in thought. even exhausted and clearly not his playful self.

“mama, go! mama go papa.”

satoru’s head turns to the side at the cute sound of his favourite little girl. he smiles brightly at her return to the living room, only for his smile to fade just for a second at the sight of you next to her. he isn’t mad at you—more like sad that you still seemed upset with him.

your daughter tugs at your index finger. she apparently wants you to go to her dad—wants you to interact or talk with him. her big eyes were staring up at you with a pleading look in them.

you were in a dilemma. of course, you wanted to put your daughter’s mind at ease. you could just fake interact with satoru—or actually just make it up—but there was still a small part of you that needed time alone. you weren’t yet mentally ready for another confrontation. you needed time to think it out.

however, part of you also knows that your earlier argument was kind of silly. you don’t even fully remember what it was about, that’s how irrelevant it was to your brain.

“c’mon, pumpkin. ‘tis not nice for you to bother mama while she’s cooking.” satoru’s soft voice startles you back to reality. he had already gotten up and crouched down to pick your daughter up in his arms, kissing her chubby cheeks to distract her; “mama’s busy, ‘kay? let’s go play with papa.”

even satoru knew that your argument had caused your little girl to feel some kind of stress. she didn’t fully comprehend the situation, though she was clearly uncomfortable by the fact that her parents were not acting nice and lovey dovey like they usually would.

“no, papa. mama!” the baby whines and points at you and then at satoru, her little legs kicking. it absolutely broke satoru’s heart — shattered it into pieces. oh, how he wishes to never fight with you again. the sight of his little bundle of joy trying to mend things between you two with all she could was simply too much.

satoru looks down at you and notices the way you look at your one year old as well. the same way he did; with guilt and sadness. he sighs softly and without further thought, wraps his free arm around your shoulders and brings you close to his body.

“c’mere,” satoru murmurs as he holds both your daughter and you to his chest, “let me hold my two girls, yeah? may i, sweetheart? please.”

your husband asks for your consent. if you were okay with this—even when he needs it desperately, to hold you again in his arms and to make it right to you—your comfort comes first. if you weren’t ready yet to make up, he’d let you go. even if it’d hurt him immensely.

you don’t answer with your words and instead let your actions do the talking. you wrap one arm around satoru’s torso, the other cradling your daughter closer to both you and him.

it was like nothing mattered anymore in that moment, except for your little family. your worries, stress and anxiety about everything and anything had vanished into thin air as you felt the embrace of the two people you held dear.

your daughter finally giggles—a sound satoru and you had greatly missed. you close your eyes and just rest against your husband’s body.

“mama papa, wuv!” the little girl squeals in happiness as she excitedly babbles on, causing both satoru and you to laugh as well. the white-haired sorcerer leaves a big peck on the baby’s forehead before doing the same to you.

“mhm, papa loves mama veeery much.” satoru hums and kisses your forehead again, solely because he missed being affectionate to you, “papa loves his sweet little angel too.”

you can’t help but chuckle along with your one year old—who seemed to be extremely content in her parents’ loving embrace again. this is how it always should be.

“mama also loves papa very much.” you reply, causing your husband to regain his usual big grin. he finally got what he longed for; to have you look and talk to him with love. your silence may have lasted only a few hours, but it felt like it had been a couple cruel months to the sorcerer.

your eyes meet his again and all was well. you smile at him and he smiles back before leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips. satoru’s arm that was draped over your shoulder moves down to curl around your lower back, pulling you as close to him as your bodies would allow.

he pulls back after a few seconds and just lovingly stares at your face again—eyes holding an affection only you had ever been able to witness. your eyes told the same story; nothing could separate you two. ever.

“waaaaah! mama papa, me, me!”

the romantic air between you two suddenly gets interrupted by your daughter’s excited demands. she was demanding kisses as well, puffing her cheeks up as she got ready for it.

“ohh? seems like our angel wants some kisses too.” satoru laughs and nods his head at the baby in his other arm whilst looking at you, “shall we?”

you giggle and nod back—not able to refuse your little girl any longer.

it was not long before the living room fills with the sounds of your child’s laughter, which was caused by the continuous kisses and tickles she was receiving from both satoru and you.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x female reader #jjk fanfic

12K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 24: The Last First Time

Summary: You and Simon both get what you want.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 15,019 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough sex (it's like straight animalistic y'all), grinding, mutual masturbation, fingering, slightly violent imagery, scratching, biting, hair pulling, dry humping, blood (only a little), slight BDSM vibes, licking, squirting, praise, fluids (so many fluids), choking (only for a second), Simon's oral fixation, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, slight fluff, language, Simon being Simon, excessive use of the word "fuck", it's basically porn with very little plot.

A/N: This...this thing is a beast. It beat me up and stole my lunch money. I may have been a bit ambitious with it, but I've denied the Ghosties long enough and so I'm making up for that. Anyway...this might be one of the most depraved things I've ever written (not really, but you get the point). He'd the warnings, and I don't recommend reading this in public. Or standing. Or in underwear you care about. It's a good thing today is Sunday because y'all are gonna need Jesus after this.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

*This is the gif*

Your teeth sink into your lip as you slowly draw your gaze back to his face. He’s still looking at the bear, and once again, you wish you could see his face so you could guess what was going through his head.

“I missed you.” You say quickly, ready to explain away the shirt and why you put it on that bear specifically. “A lot.”

His eyes turn back to you, the intensity in them almost forcing you to take a step back. Any words trying to explain your actions die on your tongue as you hold his dark gaze, your heart thumping in your chest so loud you’re surprised he can’t hear it. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest as he looks at you, his eyes darkening just slightly. He takes a step closer, your head tilting up so you can hold his gaze.

“Then I best make up for it.” He says, his hand moving to your side. His fingers bunch the fabric of the dress at your hip, lifting the hem a couple of inches. “Yellow sundress?” He asks.

“Johnny bought it for me.” You say, your voice wavering from the anticipation of his touch. “I-It was nice out today, so I wanted to wear it.”

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, releasing the fabric to drag his hand up your side, stopping just under your breast.

You want him to continue, to push his hand higher, to finally touch you. You feel electric, every nerve fiber in your body alive as you stare up at him. Yet, you can see the hesitation, the conflict in his eyes.

“We don’t have to.” You say, leaving that option open for him. Sure, it might be a little difficult after being so worked up, but the last thing you want is to push him too far. You can always get one of the other members of your pack to help ease that ache. “You just got back. There’s...there’s no need to rush it.”

His fingers tighten around your side for a moment before he releases you, turning his back to you. You begin to panic, wondering if you pushed too far, made too many assumptions, made him too uncomfortable as he walks to the door. You’ve done it, you’ve messed things up and now it’s all crumbling down around you.

His hand wraps around the knob, slowly pushing the door closed until it clicks. He stands there with his back to you for a moment before he turns back around. You let out the breath you had been holding, trying to calm the panic. Of course he’d want the door closed. This is just between you and him right now.

You hold a hand out to him, trying to fight the tremble of your fingers. Your emotions are swirling and you need his reassurance. You need his grounding presence.

He approaches you again, each step slow and calculated as he reaches out, his fingers brushing your palm before he wraps them around your hand. You close your hand around his as best you can with how big it is. You lift your gaze to his, the temptation to fold under the intensity strong, but you refuse. You need to be strong for him, for both of you. Your gaze doesn’t leave his as you slowly turn, walking backwards towards your bed, leading him by the hand with you.

Your gaze finally leaves his as you turn to face your bed, stopping dead in your tracks. Simon’s chest brushes your back, obviously not expecting you to stop so suddenly. Something tickles in the back of your mind as you stare at the mess that’s become of your bed. The blankets and pillows are still a bit rumpled and misplaced from your lounging earlier, but something’s wrong. Something’s off, something’s not right.

“Wait.” You say, dropping Simon’s hand before taking the two steps to the edge of your mattress.

You move the giant bear to the floor next to the bed before you fix the blankets, smoothing them out and making sure they’re just right. You rearrange your stuffed animals and pillows, the need for them to be perfect taking over your mind. You can’t control it, can’t stop it until everything is perfect.

You take a step back, staring at the nest you’ve made.

Nest.

You’re nesting again.

You turn to face Simon, blinking up at him as the haze clears. He’s staring at you intensely, hands curled into fists at his side. “Sorry.” You murmur, hands closing around the fabric of your dress nervously. “I-I don’t know what-”

“Don’t.” He says, the word sharp and biting. “Stop apologizing for your instincts.”

“Sorry.” You say again, wincing at the instinct to immediately apologize.

He rolls his eyes, closing the distance between you. You take half a step back, your legs hitting the mattress and you’re ready to sit on it when he grabs your hand, flipping your positions so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. He seats himself on the mattress instead, staring up at you. The look in his eyes takes your breath away as he tugs you to stand between his parted thighs.

He tugs the bottom of his mask up and you don’t even have to be told, your head immediately lowering to kiss him. You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath them. His hands close around the back of your thighs, calloused skin biting at the softness of your own. Goosebumps rise on your skin, covering your body from the sensation. It’s nothing new to you, but he’s new to you. You’ve never been in this position before with him, never under these circumstances.

His kiss is searing, just as the first one had been. He kisses you like a man starved, like he wants to devour you. It’s sloppy and wet, his hands squeezing around your thighs until your lips part in a gasp, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You press closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands begin to crawl up the backs of your thighs, warmth blossoming in your stomach again as they slip under the hem of your dress, continuing higher and higher.

His fingers brush the skin where your thighs and ass meet, before continuing upwards until they brush the fabric underneath your dress. He groans into your mouth, pulling away from your lips. “Turn around and show me.”

You shiver at the growl in his voice, turning slowly between his knees until your back is to him. You slowly lift the hem of your dress until it’s bunched around your waist, the cool air in the room brushing your exposed skin. You hear the sharp inhale as he stares at you, his fingers twitching against the sides of your thighs.

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, his hands gripping the sides of your thighs as you bend over just slightly, causing the fabric to ride up slightly higher.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stand there under his critical gaze. You had planned this after Johnny’s hint that you should wear the dress since the weather was going to be nice. You knew there was more to it than that, the subtle hint that Simon would enjoy seeing you in it. The panties had been a deliberate choice just on the off chance that something like this would happen. You’re glad you made that decision now, half bent over with your ass in Simon’s face, showing off the black, skull print fabric adorning your skin.

Simon curses again, his hands gripping your waist to tug you back into his lap. Your back collides with his chest, but he offers no complaint as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants as you press back against him, the knowledge that he’s turned on by just the sight of your ass in skull print panties sending heat rushing between your own thighs.

You tilt your head to the side, meeting his lips as you press back against him, his hands hot against your stomach. You need him to lower his hand, press it between your thighs, relieve some of the ache.

His arms release around you and you turn in his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands settle on your own thighs, rocking your body against the prominent bulge in his pants. You continue to kiss him, gasping into his mouth as your clothed slit drags against the rough fabric of his jeans. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin below his mask. You can feel the hair at the nape of his neck, the short strands prickling your fingers.

Simon pulls away from your lips, releasing his hold on your thighs. You freeze, holding your breath as you wait for what’s going to happen next. You’re worried perhaps you went too far, or perhaps he’s having second thoughts. He drops his head to your chest, pressing his face against your clothed breasts. He holds himself there, taking a shaky breath in.

“We don’t have to.” The words come spilling out. “We can stop any time.” You rub his upper back, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders.

“‘S not fair to you.” He murmurs, his breath hot through the thin fabric of the dress.

“I’ll be fine.” You say, moving off his lap.

He lets you, releasing his hold around you. He doesn’t lift his head, still bowed almost in shame. You sit next to him, close enough your arm is pressed against his.

“Like I said, there’s no rush.” You say, trying to reassure him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, closing his hands into fists. There’s more emotion in his voice than you’ve ever heard before, the sound almost startling compared to the usual gruffness and bite to his words.

“You won’t.” You shrug. “I can handle Johnny just fine, and John.” You put your hand over one of his. “I would tell you, if you hurt me, or if I got uncomfortable. I’m not as breakable as you think. You’ve thrown me around in training and I’ve been fine.”

A low sound rumbles in his chest at your words. It sends a shiver down your spine, half of your brain telling you to run, and the other half sending heat between your thighs. He sits up straight, pulling his mask down as he turns to look at you. “Touch yourself.”

“W-What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Touch yourself for me.” He repeats himself.

You hesitate for half a second, before you nod. “O-Okay.” You reply, thrilled and nervous at the idea.

You push yourself up further onto the bed as Simon adjusts himself so he’s against the headboard, lounging in your bed. You ignore the feelings rushing through you at the sight of the big alpha in your nest. It’s almost comical, seeing him in his dark clothes, an imposing figure surrounded by soft blankets and stuffed animals and colorful pillows. You lean against the footboard at the end of your bed, adjusting yourself so your thighs are spread, giving him a perfect view of your fabric covered pussy. You slip your hands under the waistband of your panties, but he stops you.

“Leave them on.” He growls, eyes glued at the slightly darker patch of fabric between your legs.

You slowly release your panties, tugging the hem of your dress up higher before you slip your hand into your underwear. You’re soaked, your fingers slipping along the slick skin. You stare at Simon’s face, his eyes glued to the movement of your hand under your panties as you begin to tease your clit. There’s an obvious tent in his pants, a painful looking bulge in his jeans.

A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you circle your clit slowly, spreading your legs even further, draping one over his. His hands settle on his stomach as he watches, his breathing slow and even.

Your breathing has picked up as you continue to tease your clit. Between the moment shared with him and the intensity of his gaze on your clothed pussy, it’s almost too much. You could cum just like this, barely touched, shivering under the gaze of your pack’s second alpha. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with him, and you’re not even naked.

You slip your fingers lower, gathering slick on them before pressing two into your throbbing pussy. You moan softly at the slight stretch, your eyes focusing on his hands and where they rest on his stomach. How full you’d be on his fingers. Yours are nothing compared to his. The depths he could reach, the delicious stretch of them. You sink your teeth into your lip, biting back a moan as you begin to thrust your fingers in and out of you.

His scent is intensifying, growing muskier in his arousal as he watches you. For once he doesn’t complain about the sweetness of your scent, the two mixing in the air, the perfect blend of alpha and omega.

“A mixture someone could get drunk off of.”

That’s what John had said. You want to, let it flow straight into your brain and numb your senses until there’s nothing but the two of you. Until you’re full of giddy happiness and warmth as your limbs go lax and all tension and stress leaves your body. Until you forget where you are, lost in some far away land where there’s nothing but you and the overwhelming scent of alpha, of Simon.

A shudder wracks through your body, your scent intensifying as pleasure begins to sear through your veins. Simon’s nose twitches beneath his mask, his pupils dilating as your scent goes straight to his brain. You wonder what kind of iron grip he’s keeping on himself, how he’s managing to hold himself back. You’d jump his bones right now if he hadn’t set this boundary between you. Perhaps it’s that boundary keeping him still on the bed. There certainly wouldn’t be any complains from you if he crossed that boundary, ripped your hand from your panties and fucked you until you couldn’t move.

“Fuck.” He growls, almost as if he could read your thoughts, as if there was some sort of telepathic link between the two of you giving him a glimpse into your mind. It would explain how in tune he is with you, how he always seems to know, how easily he can read you.

Your movements falter as he slides his hand down his stomach, tugging at the button on his jeans. You watch, enraptured as he slips his own hand into his pants, palming at his bulge. Your mouth waters at the thought of finally seeing him, of getting a glimpse of what lies beneath. He’s big, you know he has to be. Alphas generally are, thick and long to match their build.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of the stretch, how he’ll have to open you up with his fingers first so it doesn’t hurt. He’ll take good care of you, making sure you’re nice and slick and ready for him before he sinks into you, still stretching you with his cock.

A needy moan falls from your lips as slick gushes around your fingers, increasing the wet squelch of them with every thrust. Simon’s hand slips under his briefs, wrapping around his cock. You keep your gaze on the movement of his hand beneath the fabric as he pumps his length in time with the movements of your hand.

Your free hand grips the sheets under you as you adjust the position of your fingers, pressing your palm against your throbbing clit. The coil in your stomach is tightening, your thighs beginning to shake as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum?” He rasps, his hand pumping his cock faster as he chases his own high. “Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes!” You gasp out, curling your fingers against that spongy spot inside you. “Yes!”

He curses, the word a drawn out rumble in his chest as your thighs close, squeezing around your hand as you cum around your fingers. Your back arches as you nearly spasm from the pleasure, working yourself through the orgasm as he grunts in pleasure from his own approaching orgasm.

Your body settles, still shaking slightly as you withdraw your fingers from your underwear. They’re shiny with slick and your cum and you lift them to your mouth, letting your tongue dart out to lick at your own juices.

The sound Simon lets out is nearly animalistic, the pace of his hand frantic as his head tilts back, his hips jerking. You watch him cum, the muscles in his arms flexing as he spills into his underwear. It’s beautiful, the sight of him lost in pleasure. You wish you could see his face, see the way he looks in this moment, but you can’t. Instead you focus on the way his eyes flutter, those long blonde lashes golden in the light from your lamp.

His breaths are heavy, chest heaving as he comes down from his own high. Your own breathing has settled as you lay there lax at the end of your bed. It’s quiet between you for a moment, his gaze locked on yours. How far things have come just from a couple weeks of distance from each other. It’s impossible not to wonder if something happened, if there was a close call that caused him to think of all the things he’d regret not doing. Or perhaps it was just the distance, the realization that holding himself back was foolish and pointless. You’d welcome him with open arms, just as you had when he walked down the ramp and onto the tarmac.

He had been the one to make that first move, kissing you when you least expected it. What had gone through his head to cause such a reaction? Had he panicked just as much as you would have, overthinking it until he convinced himself you wouldn't want it? Did the emotions of the moment take over and he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to those desires? Or had he simply faced those fears head on and did it because he wanted to?

He knows how you feel. The kiss in the car had confirmed that, and you inviting him into your space was the gavel strike that sealed your fates. You don’t want to turn back, you wouldn’t turn back, not after everything.

Simon moves first, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of your bed. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his head. He doesn’t regret this decision, does he? You’ve leaped over the boundaries he’d once set, sharing such an intimate, vulnerable moment with each other. You’d let him go if he wanted to leave, no matter how desperately you’d want to cling to him and beg him to stay.

He pushes himself up to stand, jeans still unbuttoned as he turns to face you. “Be right back.” He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your head through the mask before he heads into your bathroom, closing the door.

You let out a quiet breath, sitting there for a moment before you get up, tugging your sundress off. It’s late, the others likely in bed already, or heading that way. You wonder if he’ll be permitted a day off tomorrow, or if he’ll even want to take one. You know how strictly he likes to keep to his schedule, even when he has to be utterly exhausted.

You’re tempted to pull his shirt off the bear and wear it as you stand there in nothing but your panties, but you’re not sure if that will be pushing too much at once. You decide against it, instead digging out a baggy shirt from your dresser, pulling it over your head.

You rearrange your nest as water runs in the bathroom, pushing most of the pillows and stuffed animals to the end of the bed before you turn down the blankets, climbing in. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you lay down, unable to stop yourself as you press your face into your pillow and inhale deeply. Your tongue darts out, pressing against the fabric before you can stop it. It’s musky and slightly tangy, making your mouth water. You want to lick it from the source, wrap your teeth around Simon’s scent gland and devour him.

Your mind is hazy as you push yourself away from the pillow, blinking away the animalistic thoughts seeping to the front of your brain as the bathroom door opens. Simon steps out, taking a couple slow steps to the middle of your room. He stands there like he’s unsure of what to do next. Should he offer to leave, or ask to join you in bed? You can see the hesitation, the conflict as he tries to decide which is okay, which one might be the best decision.

“You could join me, if you want.” You say, giving him an offer, a chance at a decision. You wouldn’t be upset if he left, well, not entirely. He’s shown a lot of vulnerability tonight, and you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted space to think over things. You don’t want him to leave, but you’d understand if he did.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, shifting on his feet.

“I did offer.” You shrug. “It’s up to you. I can always cuddle the bear.”

His gaze drops to the bear seated on the floor next to the bed, still wearing his black t-shirt. His hands curl into fists before he looks back up at you. “Move over.”

You try to hide your grin as you press yourself back against the wall, watching as he unbuttons his jeans again. He pulls them off, folding them in half before draping them over your footboard. This is the most exposed he’s been in front of you, the most skin you’ve seen at one time. You can’t help but stare at his legs, thick thighs dusted with dark blonde hair and covered in scars. They’re not surprising to you, not after seeing the others, though he has the most by far. Small lines, pink and white speckling the skin. There’s a puckered scar on one calf, a bullet wound you now know. There’s a long, thick scar on the other thigh cutting from the side of his knee, up his thigh until it disappears under his briefs.

You quickly avert your gaze as you realize he’s standing there, watching you. He quickly crawls under the blankets, a nervous sweat starting to form across your back. You don’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but it’s hard not to stare. You want to know, you want every story that explains every scar. You can’t even begin to imagine the horror of the big one on his leg. So far John has been the only one to tell you about all of his scars, as much as he could at least. Johnny had relayed a couple dramatic stories about his, and Kyle has told you about a couple when you’ve asked. You’re not even sure you could ask Simon, much less how you would go about it.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you’re suddenly yanked down against Simon’s chest, his arm wrapped around your back.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says, shifting just slightly to get comfortable on the small bed. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you, forcing you to nearly lay half on top of him. You’ve never wanted that dream of a bigger bed to be more true than in this moment.

“Sorry.” You say, wincing at your instinct to apologize again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable.” He says, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Just not used to it yet.”

“Is that why you keep yourself covered as much as possible? The scars?” You ask, biting your lip as soon as the question comes out. You hadn’t meant to ask it out loud, but you can’t stop your curiosity.

“Partly.” He says, his thumb stroking your back. “People like to stare, they like to talk.”

“I don’t care about the scars.” You say quietly. “You all have them. Just...makes me worried thinking about the things that caused them.”

He hums quietly, the sound vibrating in your ear. “Some scars are symbols of survival. Things that almost killed us, that should have. Some are old wounds the body won’t let go of.”

“That’s very poetic.” You murmur.

His hand squeezes your side. “Don’t tell Johnny. He’ll never let me live it down.”

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips, the exhaustion of the day and the bliss from the events of the last hour begin to drag your mind into the realm of sleep. Simon reaches for your lamp, shutting it off, bathing the room in near darkness.The dark doesn’t scare you anymore, not with Simon here. His violence and brutality should scare you, but instead, it only makes you feel safe. He’d make anyone who dared to try and hurt you pay.

“Sweet dreams, Simon.” You murmur, a quiet purr rumbling in your chest, content as you drift off to sleep.

It’s light out, the first rays of sunlight streaming through your window. You rub your eyes from the offending light, reaching for your sheets to tug them over your head but they’re caught around something. Your elbow knocks against something solid as you try and pull them up, a quiet grunt sounding beside you.

Arms wrap around you, pinning you against a solid warmth. “Stop movin’.” Simon grumbles, tossing a leg over you to keep you still.

You’ve traded places with him in the night, his back against the wall as you lay stretched out on your back. A quiet purr starts rumbling in your chest as the memories from last night begin to seep through your half-awake brain. He stayed the whole night with you. You had half expected him to get up, to leave, to wake up early, stick to his normal routine. Instead he’d stayed, even far later than he usually would.

You turn your attention to the arm wrapped around you, your eyes trailing his tattoos. You’ve never seen them this close, able to make out the details of them now. Your fingers begin to trace his tattoos, working your way up his arm until you reach his sleeve, pushing it up as you continue to follow the tattoos all the way up to his shoulder. It’s when you get there you see something familiar. You hold his sleeve out of the way as you trace over the three images.

“You got a tattoo for each member of the pack.” You say quietly.

“Almost.” He says, tightening his hold around you. “Missing one.”

You turn as best you can to look up at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes are still closed, and had you not known better, you might have guessed he was still sleeping. His breaths are slow and even, his body still and relaxed.

“What are you going to get?” You ask.

“Haven’t decided yet.” He says simply.

You turn in his grasp, managing to free one of your legs so you can toss it over his hip as you snuggle in close to him. “You could get a kitten, since that’s what Johnny calls me.”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You say. “A fluffy little kitten would be cute!”

“It would throw off the aesthetic.” He says, squishing you up against his chest.

“Can I go with you when you get it?” You ask.

“We’ll see.” He sighs, adjusting his leg between yours.

You bite your lip as it presses against your mound. How easy it would be to press your hips down, grind against him. There’s still a warm electric current thrumming through you from the events of last night. Things have moved fast between you. You’ve gone from thinking he hates you to masturbating in front of each other in a matter of weeks. The leaps you’ve made between the two weeks he was gone almost seem surreal. Does he regret last night? Will he change his mind, retreat back into himself once the reality sets in? You had thought there was no going back once he stepped into your room, but in reality, he could decide to pull back, he could decide this isn’t what he wants after all.

You’d let him. You’d watch him revert back into himself, face the pain of rejection and acknowledge that what you wanted turned out to be nothing but a dream. His comfort matters more than your needs. You’d fight to cling to the fraying bonds for nothing else besides the sanity and stability of your pack. His rejection would slice clean through those supposedly indestructible bonds, disrupting the dynamic of the pack. It would fracture, crumbling like a building with a structural failure. The bonds that they built with each other, the bonds they’ve built with you will snap leaving decaying waste with you and Johnny caught right in the middle of it all.

You’ll do everything in your power to cling to those decaying edges, frantically gluing them back together like omegas are supposed to. Fight to hold the pack together while the betas desperately try to resolve the tension and keep everyone sane. It will be the end of the pack, the initiative will be a failure.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed so much. It’s all going to go down in flames because of you.

“You’re thinking too much again.”

The quiet rumble of Simon’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. It drags you back to reality, back into your body from the quickly deepening hole of worry and fear in your mind. Your eyelids flutter as you take a deep breath, the musky scent of alpha clearing away the haze that had come over your mind. You’re still laying in Simon’s arms, pressed up against his chest, his thigh pressed between your legs.

“How do you always know?” You murmur, snaking your arm around his side.

“You have tells. You freeze, staying so still even the best snipers in the world would be impressed. You get this glazed over look in your eyes, and your scent changes depending on what you’re thinking about.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

“You notice all of that?” You ask in amazement and embarrassment that he can read you so easily. You’re still not used to it, his uncanny ability to just know things when it comes to you.

“‘S part of my job,” He says, shifting slightly closer to you. “What makes me so good at it.” His face presses against the top of your head as his thigh shifts between your legs, putting even more pressure against your clothed pussy. “You’re overthinking this, aren't you.”

“I just...” You let out a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “I need to know if you regret last night.”

A low grumble vibrates through his chest before you find yourself suddenly on your back under him. It happened so fast your brain can’t even register it completely, his hand is gripping your thigh, the one you had thrown over his waist, keeping it hooked over his hip. He’s pressed between your legs, body slotted against yours like he was made to fit there perfectly. Hard edges pressed against your soft curves.

“Does this feel like regret to you?” He says, voice rumbling deep in his chest as he presses his hips into yours.

You can feel him...all of him through his briefs as he presses against you, nothing but thin fabric separating you. He’s just as big as you imagined, long and thick and throbbing. He drags his hips along your covered slit, closer than he’s ever been to you. The electrifying moment during training is almost nothing compared to the feeling of him pressed against you.

“No.” You squeak out, wrapping your arms around his back as he continues to grid against you. You can feel every inch of him against your quickly dampening underwear, the fabric sticking to you and providing delicious friction with every roll of his hips.

Your hands slip under his shirt, your palms pressing against the warm skin of his lower back. A shudder runs through him, dragging a low growl from his lips. He releases you just long enough to tug his mask up over his mouth before he descends on your neck, your head tilting to the side to give him room.

The front of his briefs are quickly getting wet from the slick coating your thighs and his precum. Your nails sink into his skin as his teeth scrape across your throat, his tongue following to ease the sensitive, stinging skin.

“Simon,” You whimper, pressing your hips up against him, desperately seeking relief from the ache building in your core.

He lifts his face from your throat, your lips clashing against his in a mix of teeth and tongue. His hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He uses his hold on you for leverage as the drag of his hips becomes almost violent. You can imagine it, the feeling of his cock thrusting into you, reaching so deep you can feel him in your stomach, the way you’ll ache for days after he’s done with you.

“Simon, fuck...” You whine against his lips, your legs shaking as you get closer and closer to the edge. “Please!”

His grunts and moans have turned into growls, low and deep in his chest. It sends a shiver up your spine, your omega rolling in your mind, scratching to be free. You sink your teeth into his lower lip until you taste blood, the air between you quickly becoming primal. His hand tugs on your hair, pulling your head back until your throat is bared to him. He sinks his teeth into the skin, biting until you yelp. He eases back, dragging his tongue over the sore spot.

Your moans get louder as you get closer and closer to the edge, every sharp bite of his teeth into your neck sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to where his cock drags against your clit. You feel alive, your vision getting sharper as you get closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Simon....Simon please.” You whine, clutching him to you so tightly it almost hurts. “I need you. Need you to rearrange my guts, fuck me until I can’t stand. Make me hurt, remind me that I’m yours.”

A low growl reverberates in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. Your thighs squeeze around his hips, hanging onto him for dear life as he ruts against you like an animal. “Say it again.” He growls, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your ear.

“I’m yours.” You gasp, your back arching. “Have been since the first day.”

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, grinding his hips against yours with so much force the headboard bangs against the wall.

You cum almost instantly, soaking your underwear and his briefs. He shoves his face into your throat, inhaling deeply against your scent gland. His hand grips the pillow next to your head, his body tensing as his hips jerk against yours. Warmth coats his briefs as he spills into them for a second time in the last day, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he nearly goes limp on top of you.

Both of you lay there, shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of your orgasms. It’s hot and stuffy in the room, the heat from Simon’s body not helping any. For a moment you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again from how still and relaxed he is, but the twitch of his body as you soothe your hands over the marks you’ve left on his back says otherwise.

“Simon?” You speak his name quietly in the sudden stillness of the room.

“Soon.” He says, slowly beginning to untangle himself from you. “I’ll give you what you need soon.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, shockingly soft compared to what had just transpired.

He slips a hand around your back, flipping the two of you again as he flops on his back on your bed. You fall against his chest, resting your head over his heart. Despite the exertion, it’s thumping steadily and evenly. Your pussy clenches at the thought of his stamina, how long he’ll be able to go. You’ll tire before him, nothing but a boneless, babbling omega as he fucks you blind and unconscious.

The moment is ruined by the knock at the door, both of you tensing for a moment.

“If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss breakfast.” John’s voice sounds from the other side.

Your cheeks warm at the idea of him hearing what had just transpired. How long has he been standing out there, waiting for you to finish? Does he think Simon was just fucking you, or does he somehow know you had just been rutting away like two eager pups? You can picture the tent in his pants, the way he adjusts the painful bulge at the thought of you being taken by his second alpha. He’s been waiting for this, for the walls to finally come down, for you and Simon to finally release that pent up energy and remove the weight that has been hovering over everyone’s heads.

“Come on,” Simon says, sitting up with you in his arms. “Need to get some food in you.” He stands, still holding you like it’s nothing to him. It probably isn’t, but the thought has your face nearly bursting into flames.

He sets you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your sides. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in the beautiful brown irises. He holds your gaze for a moment before delivering a sharp swat to your ass.

“Get yourself cleaned up, then we’ll go.” He pulls away from you, grabbing his jeans off the end of your bed.

You stare at his ass as he bends over to pull them on, an idea popping in your head. “Wait,” You say before he can leave, pulling off your panties. You tuck them into his back pocket, giving it a firm pat. “Keep them.” You stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek before scurrying off to the bathroom before you get distracted again.

You’re still shaking as you tug your shirt over your head. You look like you’ve been mauled by an animal as you stare at yourself in the mirror. There’s marks across your neck from Simon’s teeth, and your hair is a tangled mess from his hands. Your thighs are trembling a bit as you stand there, your slick drying uncomfortably on your thighs. Your lips feel bruised as you quickly brush your teeth before stepping into the shower.

The excited tremble of your hands makes holding the body wash a struggle. You still feel electric, your mind rushing from not one but two very intimate moments between you and Simon. If this is how you feel now, you can only imagine how you’ll feel after actually having sex.

You feel a bit sore as you get dressed, doing your best to hide the scattering of marks across your skin. You don’t really have to hide them. Everyone knows you fuck the members of the 141. The images that must flash through their minds when you walk around with them. Do they think you take all of them at once? On your knees as they stand around you, being a good omega for them like in some cheesy porn video? Or bent over, presented for them as they make a mess of your pussy, fucking each other’s cum into you until you can’t hold anymore and it seeps out, leaving you laying in a puddle of it?

Your pussy clenches at the thought, warmth starting to pool in your stomach again.

“Down girl.” You say, talking to yourself as you slip on your shoes. “We’re not there,” You straighten back up, smoothing your hands over your shirt. “Yet.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the excited thrumming between your legs as you step out into the hallway. Simon is waiting for you, having changed clothes, or at least you think so. He’s in a black t-shirt and jeans still, his most common uniform when he’s not in training.

“Come on, let’s go.” He says, motioning towards the door with his head.

He didn’t change his shirt.

The overwhelming scent of alpha and sex and you is wafting off of him. He might as well be wearing a bright neon sign declaring what you were up to this morning. Your omega purrs at the idea of him being coated in your scent, staking your claim over him. Maybe you shouldn’t have showered after all, wanting to wear a matching scent projecting his own claim over you.

The mess is sparsely occupied this late in the morning, something you’re silently grateful for. Had you walked in during the peak breakfast time, you might have died on the spot. Most don’t pass a glance your way, only those you pass by directly giving you both a second look.

Simon yanks your tray from your hands as you grab one, setting it down on the counter next to his. He begins spooning food onto it, adding the things you like. You stare at your tray wide-eyed as he fills it, your omega practically preening.

He doesn’t even let you carry it to the table, setting it down next to his. You beam up at him as he stares down at you, unable to hide your smile.

“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning your face.

Your smile widens. “Thanks for making my tray.”

He glances down at your full tray before looking back at you. “Sit down and start eating.”

You can’t stop smiling as you sit on the bench, Simon going to get you something to drink. The activities this morning have left you hungry, hungry enough that the mess food looks appetizing. Simon returns quickly, setting a cup of tea down in front of you.

“Tea?” You ask, staring at it.

“Yeah. ‘S good for you.” He says, starting in on his own breakfast. “Better than that sugary milk you call coffee.”

“But you put sugar and milk in your tea.” You say, looking up at him.

He turns to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?”

“Yeah. All the time.” You say, taking a bite out of the sausage on your fork.

“Little shit.” He murmurs under his breath, turning back to his own tray.

You both eat in comfortable silence, no awkward or tentative energy between you like you had worried there would be after the events that transpired over the last few hours. There’s no dancing around each other anymore, the forced distance dispersed between you. It makes you happy, your omega satisfied as your pack now feels complete.

You almost feel like skipping as Simon leads you back to the barracks. You slip your hand into his, swinging your arms back and forth. He doesn’t pull away or even complain at your actions, letting you have your moment. Who knew he was such a big softie underneath all that armor?

Well, you sort of knew the whole time. He could have been mean. He could have been nasty towards you, forcing you into a corner made up of only you, John, and Kyle. He could have kept Johnny from you, drawing that line in the pack and keeping you on one side. He could have let you face the consequences of punching that alpha on your own. So many times he could have left you on your own, been rough with you, let things escalate until he was violent, let his anger win and use it against you as many alphas do.

But he didn’t.

Even in his early avoidance of you, he was never a bad alpha towards you. He might not have liked you at first, or approved of your presence, but he never took it out on you. He put up with you because he had to, until his hesitant tolerance grew into more. You had wiggled your way in without even knowing it, long before you started trying, long before you became determined to win his approval for your sake, as well as the rest of the pack’s.

Look at you now, holding his hand after he made you orgasm an hour ago. You would have never thought you’d get to this place with him back then. You’ve surpassed the point you wanted to get to, but you’re certainly not going to complain. You’ve gotten what you wanted, and from the sounds of it, so has he.

It’s been two days since Simon’s return, and he has yet to fuck you. The marks on your neck have begun to fade, and you wonder if he’s waiting until they’re gone so he can make new ones. He certainly hasn’t been ignoring you, no he’s been quite clingy. He sits close to you, holds your hand every chance he can. He’s been filling your trays at meals when he takes you to the mess, something John is content to let him do.

Your omega is satisfied, still preening at the idea of him courting you. You certainly won’t complain, nor will you try to stop him. He could claim you too, if he wanted. He could have claimed you from the start and you would have let him. Back then it would have been because it was your duty to do what your pack wanted. Now it would be because you want him to. You want to be his, just as much as you’re John’s.

You won’t tell him that, though. Not yet. You don’t want to push him, to seem like you’re trying to move too quickly. You don’t want to scare him off now after making so much progress. That can be a conversation for later, once the two of you have adjusted to this new development in your relationship.

An excited shiver trails down your spine as you stand outside the door. It’s early, but the world outside is grey with the coming dawn. Your heart jumps as the door in front of you opens, Simon pausing as he exits his room. He blinks down at you as you grin up at him, obviously not expecting you to be up and ready before him.

“Ready to go?” You say, bouncing excitedly on your toes.

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling his door closed behind him. “You’re in far too good a mood for 4:30 in the morning.”

“I’m excited.” You say, taking his arm as you walk down the hallway.

“And far too happy.” He says as you step out into the cool morning air.

“I am happy.” You say, leaning your head against his arm. “You make me happy.”

He lets out a sigh, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at you. “Don’t make me regret this.”

You pause outside the door to the gym, looking up at him. “You don’t, do you?”

He stares down at you for a long moment, your heart beating in your ears. You don’t want to scare him off with your happiness, the glee you can’t control at the relief of finally being accepted by him, of finally feeling like your pack is complete.

“No.” He says, opening the door for you. “Now get your ass inside.”

Relief floods through you, a smile tugging at your lips as you step into the gym. It’s quiet inside, quieter than normal even for 4 AM.

“Most of them are out running drills today.” Simon says as he leads you down the hallway to the training room. “Base will be quiet.”

“Won’t catch me complaining.” You say as you step into the training room.

Simon locks the door behind you, setting his things on the bench and kicking off his shoes. You stare at him shamelessly as you follow him onto the mat, unsure whether you should thank or curse the grey sweatpants hugging his ass.

He turns to face you and you decide to curse them, warmth flooding through you. Your mind flashes back to the morning after his return, the feeling of his cock grinding against you, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving marks all over you.

Fuck this is going to be a long training session.

You’re half distracted as he runs you through combinations, most of your punches missing, your kicks almost half-hearted as most of your energy is pulsing between your legs. You keep messing up, punching at the wrong time, the order getting messed up in your mind. Agreeing to train today was probably a bad idea, given the uncontrollable lust that’s been plaguing you. Being so close to Simon and his scent isn’t helping either.

You mess up another combo, half distracted, half dazed as you throw a punch, missing the mitt entirely. Simon lets out a frustrated growl, moving before you can even think to block yourself as he drives his shoulder into the center of your chest. You fall flat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a sharp gasp.

You lay there, coughing and gasping as he comes to stand over you, staring down at you disappointedly. “You’re distracted.”

“Yeah,” You cough out, trying to catch your breath. “You keep fucking with my head.”

“Half of fighting an alpha is a mind game. They’re going to fuck with you, because it will work.” He says, lowering himself to his knees over you.

“Yeah, but this is different.” You say, your breathing finally returning back to normal.

Or it was. Your inhale catches in your throat as he leans over you, his hands settling on either side of your head. “How?” He asks, his voice rougher than it had been.

You take a deep breath as you stare up at him, feeling very small in this position, but you know he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t want you to fuck with my head,” You say, trying to gain the upper hand. “I want you to fuck me.”

Your words stun him for a moment, and you take the opportunity to try and reverse your positions. You swing your fist towards his side, aiming for the spot below his ribs. He recovers faster than you thought he might, catching your hand before you can make contact. He pins it to the mat beside your head, pinning your other hand on the other side. You try to use your knees to hit him, but he settles his weight over you, effectively pinning you to the mat.

The position is reminiscent of the morning after he returned, his body pressed into yours, clinging to you as you both chased your orgasms. It sends a shiver down your spine, your body shuddering under him. His grip around your wrists shifts, pulling your hands over your head. He holds them with one of his own hands, keeping them pinned to the mat. A thrill shoots through you as you stare up at him, his body shifting to the side.

“You want me to fuck you?” He growls, lifting his mask up to his nose. “Want me to take you right here where anyone walking by could hear you screaming my name? Where they could stand at the door jerking themselves off like needy pups, hoping to get just a whiff of your scent?”

You would let him. He could take you right now on this mat and you wouldn’t care. Heat is pulsing between your legs, slick soaking your underwear and quickly beginning to seep through to your leggings.

“Yes!” You whine, clenching your thighs together, seeking out any kind of friction you can get. “Please!”

His free hand grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks to force your mouth open. He leans over you, holding your gaze as he spits into your mouth. Your whine is cut off as two of his fingers follow, pressing against your tongue. They taste salty from the sweat on his hands, yet you don’t care, licking the sweat from his skin. The pulsing of your pussy is starting to get to be too much, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate attempt to ease the ache.

You moan around his fingers, laving your tongue over them as he shifts his gaze to your legs, watching you squirm and writhe. You can hardly stand it, his scent getting thicker and thicker in the air as he begins to get aroused as well. You nip at his fingers, trying to get him to pull them from your mouth.

“Please!” You gasp as soon as your mouth is free. “Fucking touch me, Simon!”

It’s like he had been waiting for your permission as his hand slips between your clenched thighs, cupping you over your leggings. You press your hips into his hand, grinding against him in desperate need for release.

“What, you want this?” He says, rubbing his hand along your clothed slit.

“Yes!” You almost sob, squeezing your thighs around his hand. “Please, Simon! Please!”

You lift your head as he slides his hand up your pelvis until it’s resting right at the waistband of your leggings. His eyes are on your face as he slowly pushes his fingers under the fabric, trailing lower and lower until he reaches the top of your mound. Your breath hitches in anticipation, lips parted as your chest heaves with every breath. So close. You’re so close to finally being touched by him. So close to getting relief.

Your head falls back against the mat, a loud moan slipping from your lips as he finally slides his fingers lower, the rough pads brushing over your clit. “Fuck...” You whine, letting your legs fall open as he begins to circle the sensitive bud.

It’s more than you could have imagined, better than you would have ever thought, and all he’s done is rub a few circles over your clit. His touch is electric, lighting a fire in you again, sending shocks straight through your nervous system and into your brain. You push against the hand holding your wrists but he doesn’t relent, not letting you touch him like you so desperately want to.

His fingers leave your clit, sliding lower until they’re pressed against your hole. You shift your hips against his hand, trying to get even some relief from the ache that’s been throbbing between your legs for two days. You’ve avoided even touching yourself, wanting to make sure you were still sensitive and ready for when Simon decided he was ready. You’re glad for that now as Simon presses two of his fingers into you, your walls clamping down around them tightly.

“C’mon,” He groans in your ear, his tongue darting out to lick at the sweat dampening your face. “Relax for me.”

You breathe deeply, trying to get yourself to relax as he pushes his fingers further into you. His fingers are so long and thick, his knuckles catching at your entrance.

“This tight around my fingers, how are you gonna take my cock?” He groans, thrusting his fingers gently to try and open you up for him.

“I can take it.” You pant, bucking your hips against his hand to take his fingers deeper into you.

“Been a while since someone fucked you, huh?” He says, beginning to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

“Weeks.” You whine, your pussy fluttering around his fingers in relief. “Not since before you left.”

“Oh?” His brows raise in surprise.

“Missed you too much.” You gasp as he speeds up the movements of his fingers. “Didn’t want to.”

“You were hoping I’d fuck you when I got back, huh.” He says, curling his fingers inside you. “Give this poor neglected cunt some attention.”

You let out a moan that’s almost a sob as he finds that spongy spot inside you, directing the movements of his fingers directly against it. Your hands close into fists, pushing against his but he doesn’t let you go, starting to nearly pound his fingers against that spot.

It’s too much and not enough all at once, your body starting to shake almost violently as pressure builds in your stomach. You’re being loud but you don’t care, unable to hold anything back as pleasure ripples through you, nearly blacking out your vision. You writhe on the mat, legs shaking as your feet plant on the floor, lifting your hips up against his hand.

“That’s it.” He groans, the wet squelch of his fingers obscene in the quiet training room.

Your body writhes from the intensity of your pleasure, tears leaking from your eyes uncontrollably. You can’t tell if you’re moaning or sobbing or both as pleasure cuts like a knife through you, toes curling and uncurling in your shoes. It’s like you’ve lost all control, your body given over to the pleasure as his fingers are pushed out of you from the force of your orgasm, fluid soaking your underwear.

You’re shuddering and shaking under him as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing it harshly. It’s almost too much, your pussy contracting almost painfully. A second orgasm is forced out of you, your thighs clamping together, your leggings soaked with fluid between your thighs.

Simon finally relents, pulling his fingers from your pants. They’re soaked, shiny and slick with your release. You’re gasping for air, body still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Good girl.” Simon praises you, wiping his hand on his sweatpants as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It’s strange, the tenderness after what he had just done to your body.

And that was only with his fingers.

He eases you up to sit, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You’re not sure how you’re even supposed to stand on them, much less walk. There’s an uncomfortable wetness between your legs, your panties and leggings sticking to your skin.

“Easy.” He says, supporting your body as you try to rise to your feet.

There’s a small puddle where you were laying, the outline of your body in sweat on the mat and then more fluid beneath where your ass had been. Simon lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the bench before sitting you down. He wipes down the mat, cleaning up the mess you left before he approaches you again.

“What was that?” You ask, shifting uncomfortably in your wet underwear.

Simon smirks, slipping his phone and keys as well as your phone into his pockets. “Made you squirt, love.”

Your mouth falls open, your thighs subconsciously clenching together. “You-what?” You blink in surprise. “Didn’t know I could do that.”

He chuckles, lifting you into his arms again. “Gotta know what you’re doing to make it happen.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as the double meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. You’re glad for the cool air outside as he carries you back towards the barracks, your legs still trembling a bit from the intense orgasm he had just given you. You’re glad the base is mostly empty, the thought of others knowing what he had just done to you is almost too much.

“What happened?” Johnny asks as soon as Simon enters the door of the barracks, his eyes flickering back and forth between you. “Didnae hurt her, did ye?” He asks, getting defensive.

“Quite the opposite.” Simon says, walking past him towards your door. “Taught her a little party trick.”

Johnny’s nostrils flare as your scent finally hits him, his eyes going wide. “Fucking christ, Simon.”

He starts towards your door as Simon sets you on your feet, but the alpha pushes him back, keeping him from entering your room. “Easy, mutt. She’s had enough this morning. Let’s get some food and liquids into her first.”

Your pussy clenches in anticipation at his words and you quickly close the door before you, or they, change their minds.

You’re not quite sure what to do as you stand in front of the open door, peering into a space you’ve never been in before. It almost feels wrong to take the step, to enter into sacred ground you’ve been kept out of until now. The space is plain and laid out not entirely unlike your own. There’s books lining the back of the desk, a box with what looks like records sitting on the floor next to it, and what looks like a painting hanging on the wall. The wardrobe is exactly where yours is, and you can assume there’s a dresser behind the door.

“You going to come in or do I have to drag you?”

You startle at the voice, lifting your gaze to Simon’s. He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at you as you hesitate in the doorway. You swallow the lump in your throat, taking a step into the room, and then another.

All feelings of plainness go out the window as you step further in. His bed is the same as yours, sheets blue instead of black like you might have assumed. There’s a nightstand next to the bed with a lamp and his phone, but that’s not what’s surprising to you.

Across the wall behind his bed is a black and white mural of skulls stretching wall to wall, ceiling to floor. You stare at it in awe, taking in all the details, the shading, the realism.

“Johnny did it for me.” Simon says, stepping up next to you. “Not long after I claimed him.”

“It’s incredible.” You say. “Very fitting.”

“Might need to commission him for another piece, one of the ones he’s done of you.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, very aware of Johnny’s stash of drawings of you from pictures he’s snapped while you weren’t looking, and some while you were. You’d flipped through his sketchbook, just happening upon a rather detailed drawing of your tits when he’d grabbed it and quickly shoved it on top of his wardrobe.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what filled the rest of the pages in that book.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to do one for you.” You say, turning to face him. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I could be convinced to do a custom reference for him.”

His eyes darken as he stares at you, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare up at him, refusing to look away despite the strong musky scent rolling off of him. You stand your ground, pushing back against his attempts to make you yield, to make you submit.

A shiver runs down your spine as he takes a step closer, and then another. You can feel the warmth of his body as he looms over you, his hand lifting to settle on your waist. His thumb brushes your side through your shirt, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

“Yes, sir.” You respond.

His hand tightens around your waist, his scent intensifying at your words. “Fuck,” He hisses, the front of his pants suddenly getting tighter. “Brazen little shit.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “You love it.”

“Mmm, you seem so sure of that.” He says, tugging the bottom of his mask up.

“Because I am.” You say, lifting yourself up onto your toes.

He bends down, meeting you halfway. Your lips clash in a fiery kiss, your hands lifting to grip his shoulders. His own slide down your sides to grip your thighs, lifting you into his arms. He walks backwards, kicking his door closed before pressing you up against it.

You moan as your back hits the door, Simon’s tongue sliding into your mouth as soon as your lips part. The kiss is messy and rough, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pins you against his door. It’s finally happening, what you’ve been waiting for. Two long days you’ve been waiting and wishing for this moment. Simon’s bruising grip on your thighs, and the low rumbling growl echoing in his chest speak volumes of his own desire.

His grip tightens on you, almost becoming painful as his teeth sink into your lip. You let out a surprised yelp as he breaks the skin, the coppery tang of blood filling your mouth.

You nearly hit the floor as Simon wrenches himself away from you, stumbling back a couple of steps. He wipes the blood from his lip and you quickly purse your own lips to try and hide the blood. He turns his back to you, his shoulders tensed and slightly hunched.

“Simon?” You take half a step forward, but he lifts his hand, making you pause.

You stay where you are, staring at his back. You don’t want this to ruin things, to push him away from you. A little blood hasn’t stopped you so far, nor has a little pain. You can tell he’s nervous, though, on edge, and you know exactly why.

“Simon?” You say quietly, approaching him slowly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, repeating the words he’s said over and over the last few weeks. It’s almost like a mantra now, and you can imagine it echoing over and over in his head. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder as you reach him.

“You won’t.” You say, putting your hands on his back, turning him slowly. “You haven’t so far. His eyes flicker between the healing marks on your neck, and your bleeding lip. “I trust you, Simon.”

“You shouldn’t.” He says, his hands closing into fists.

“Don’t be stupid.” You say, rolling your eyes. “We both want this. Denying it isn’t going to make anything better. I trust your ability to control yourself, and you have to trust that I’ll tell you if you go too far.”

“What if I can’t stop?”

“Johnny’s next door, and John is across the hall.” You say simply. “If nothing else, I’ll scream. They’ll know the difference.” You take his face in your hands, pulling him down slightly so you can look him in the eyes easier. “Let me be in control if you’re so worried.”

A rumble vibrates deep in his chest at your words, his eyes flashing. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks, ghosting over his five-o’clock shadow.

“The mask can stay on, hell all of your clothes can stay on.” You shrug. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

He stares down into your eyes for a moment before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, less heated and animalistic than before.

Simon releases you, taking a step back. He unbuttons his pants, letting them drop to the floor, leaving him in just his briefs. He picks them up, folding them like he did two nights ago, draping them over the back of his desk chair. He hesitates for a moment so you take the lead, pulling your shirt up over your head. You drop your shorts as well, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

Simon’s eyes scan your body and you fight the urge to cover yourself under his intense gaze. He steps forward, his fingers reaching for you. They’re surprisingly soft as they trail up your arm, goosebumps forming on your skin. His eyes follow the path of his fingers before they reach the strap of your bra. He slips his fingers underneath, pulling it up before he releases it, letting it snap against your skin.

“Take it off.” He says, a subtle growl underneath his voice.

It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps forming all over your skin. “Thought I was in charge, Mr. Big Alpha Man.”

“Little shit.” He breathes, letting out a long sigh.

You reach behind you anyway, undoing your bra and letting it fall to the floor.

“Christ.” He breathes, his eyes glued right on your tits.

“Understanding all the hype now?” You smirk. “You can touch them if you’d like.”

He curses under his breath but lifts his hands anyway, cupping your breasts. You bite your lip as he squeezes them gently, his eyes glued to your chest.

“Didn’t take you for a tits guy.” You say, biting back a moan as his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“I'm just full of surprises.” He says, earning a surprised yelp as he tugs harshly on your nipple.

He leans down, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it. You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your hands lifting to grip his biceps.

“Fuck,” He groans against your skin, straightening back up. “On the bed.” He says, motioning with his head.

“Thought I was in charge.” You sass.

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He retorts.

You open your mouth to argue but you can't. You know he's right, so instead you make your way to the bed, crawling onto the mattress, making sure he can see the damp spot on your underwear as you do.

You pause when you hear crinkling, running your hand over the sheet. “A heat liner?”

“Gotta protect the mattress.” He shrugs, approaching the bed.

Your eyes widen as your face warms, the implications not lost on you. You think back to earlier in the gym, your face only warming even more. “Oh.”

He grips the back of your knees, tugging you to the edge of the bed, pushing your knees up. You're spread open in front of him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger as he stares down at the only barrier left between you.

“You could take a picture.” You say as he stands there, frozen. “Something to remember me by.”

“Little shit.” He says under his breath, his hands sliding up your inner thighs until they reach your hips.

His fingers curl under the waistband of the lacy black fabric, slowly dragging them down over your ass and then down your legs. He tosses the fabric behind him before parting your legs again. He's shamelessly staring at your glistening pussy, bare and spread open for him.

A moment passes as he stands there frozen, and for a second you wonder if he's ever seen a pussy before, much less a naked woman. Obviously he has, based on what happened earlier. He’s experienced, and you try not to let the thought bother you, jealousy rising at the thought of his hands on another woman. Did she get to see his face? How vulnerable was he with her.

You bring your attention back to Simon as he stands there frozen. “You okay?” You ask, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at his mask-covered face. “Why don't you show me what you did in the gym earlier.” You suggest, finally getting him to react.

His eyes flash up to your face, his grip on your legs loosening. He stares at you for a second before letting them go completely. “Wait here.” He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he comes out carrying a towel.

He lays it on the floor beside the bed, looking between you and the towel for a moment before nodding in approval. You watch him as he grabs a pillow, slipping it behind you to prop you up before sinking onto the mattress next to you. He pulls one of your legs over his lap, and you hook an arm around the other one, getting the idea.

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he drags it across your stomach, letting his blunt nails scrape across your skin. You shiver in response, goosebumps covering your skin again. His hand slips through your folds, gathering some of your slick on his fingers before he returns to your clit, circling it like he had earlier. You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the pillow as he teases the sensitive bud.

Simon leans closer to you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw. “Fucking beautiful omega.” He praises you, his teeth scraping your skin gently. “Been working me up for weeks, laying in here listening to you fuck the others, those sweet little sounds coming from you.” He groans into your skin, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit. “Had me in here wanking like some needy teenager, imagining it was me making you scream like that, like it was your hand on my cock.”

His words make you shiver. You know he’s heard you, it was impossible not to, but you had always pictured him with ear plugs in or headphones on, trying to drown out the noise. Or maybe he always chose those moments to shower, trying to drown you out with the water.

You hadn't considered that he'd be in here masturbating to the sound of you being fucked by the others. You certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was you he was jerking off to. You would have assumed his focus was on the others and the sounds of their pleasure. Your pussy clenches at the mental image of him in bed, fisting his cock, trying not to cum until you do. He knows what you sound like when you cum, he'd have figured that out quickly. He'd use that knowledge, edging himself until you came so he could cum with you.

“Fuck...” You moan, slick dribbling out of you at the thoughts flashing through your mind.

“Nearly blacked out when you let Johnny fuck you from behind the first time.” He groans, circling your clit faster. “Imagining you bent over his bed, split open around his cock,” He shakes his head. “Wanted to be in there, bend him over you and fuck him into you, get both of you desperate and needy, begging me for release.”

Your head tilts back, your legs shaking as his words nearly send you over the edge. The mental images are almost too much, the possibilities now that you've opened this door.

You whine as his hand leaves your clit, his fingers closing around your jaw and pulling your head back up. “Keep your head up.” He says. “Want you to watch.”

You whimper as he returns to your pussy, dragging his fingers down your slit before pressing two into your slick hole. They slide in easier than they did this morning, your body opening to him in anticipation. He thrusts his fingers slowly, teasing you as he continues to work you up.

“Wanna fuck you so full of cum you're almost bursting then let Kyle eat it out of you. Might let him fuck you after just to see the two prettiest members of the pack together.” He continues.

You squeeze around his fingers, a loud moan leaving your lips. You could cum from his words alone and the mental images flashing through your mind. All the possibilities, all the opportunities that are now in front of you.

He curls his fingers, finding that spongy spot again. You know what's coming, the anticipation building in your stomach as he begins to thrust his fingers against that spot.

“Want Price to bend you over my desk, watch as he fucks you until you're a crying mess, and then it will be my turn.” He growls, pounding his fingers against that spot. “Make you forget your name, forget how to do anything but whine in pleasure.

You desperately keep your eyes on his hand as that overwhelming pressure begins in your stomach again, your moans getting sharper and sharper the more it builds. Your hips jerk uncontrollably as you nearly black out again, fluid squirting from you and into the air. Simon's fingers are forced out of you from the intensity of the orgasm, but he's not done as he begins frantically rubbing at your clit. Another orgasm is forced out of you from the hypersensitivity as you squirt again, soaking your pussy and the side of the bed.

You let your head fall back as you gasp for air, your body shuddering uncontrollably in the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm. Simon leans down, kissing you like he wants to devour you as he slips his fingers back inside your spasming pussy. It’s almost painful, the sensations too much as he stretches you open again.

“One more.” He groans against your lips as he starts bullying that spot inside you with his fingers again. “Give me one more.”

“Simon,” you grip the front of his shirt, the feeling almost too much as it builds faster this time. “Simon!” You let out a high pitched shriek, squirting again all over his hand and the floor.

“That's it.” He groans, finally relenting as his wet hand comes to rest on your clenching stomach.

Tears blur your vision as you lay there shaking, nearly having an out of body experience from the pleasure. It's painful, but not in a bad way.

His hand slides up your body until he's gripping your jaw, turning your face to his. He kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue past your lips as he holds you there, your release dripping from your pussy onto the sheets. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, bordering on the animalistic violence that had almost taken over you both two days ago. It had thrilled and terrified you, how easily both of you got lost in the moment.

You hadn't even been naked then.

You don't ponder on it long as he pulls away from you delivering a slap to your pussy before he stands, watching the way you jerk from the sharp sting on the sensitive skin. You nearly cum from it, pussy clenching from how sensitive you are.

He reaches into the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a bottle. He moves to stand between your legs again, letting them fall to the sides for a moment. You're limp as you stare up at him, not sure you could move your body at all if you had to. You're beginning to understand why he was so worried.

He palms at the very prominent bulge in his briefs, an excited thrill running through you as he slips his hands under the waistband, slowly sliding it lower and lower. You lick your lips as more skin is revealed to you, a trail of light hair leading to the thick shaft of his cock. It keeps going and going as he lowers his briefs, thick and long and an angry red color as the fabric finally drops out of sight.

“Fuck...” You breathe as you stare at it, looking big even in his large hand.

He moves closer, lifting your legs from where they're hanging over the side of the bed, pushing them up as close to your chest as they can get, essentially folding you in half. His cock drags through your folds, the head catching on your clit. It makes you twitch with every pass of his hips, your lips parting in anticipation. You could cum like this, your pussy still oversensitive from your three orgasms already. Four, if you count the one in the gym earlier.

“You said you could take it.” He teases, his hands keeping your legs pressed back.

You nod. “Uh huh.”

“Having second thoughts?” He smirks.

You're not sure if it's your ego or your pride or just sheer determination that has you shaking your head. “Nope.”

His smirk widens as he reaches for the bottle, popping the cap before squirting some lube on his cock and onto your hole. He tosses the bottle back onto the bed before rubbing the lube on his cock, dragging the head through your slick folds, spreading the cold lube against the heated skin. “Good girl.”

You shiver from the praise, your breath catching in your throat as he begins to press into you. The burning stretch is almost too much for your oversensitive walls despite the preparation he had given you. His fingers were nothing compared to his cock, and for a moment you regret not fucking one of the others in the two weeks he was gone.

Your breaths are coming in high pitched gasps, broken by moans as he sinks into you, your legs shaking and he hasn't even fucked you yet. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch. You can feel all of him, every inch of his length, every inch of his circumference as your pussy gapes around him.

“Wait,” You grip his wrists, his movements pausing. “Fuck, gimme a second.”

His eyes are on you as you lay there, trying to relax around him, fighting desperately not to cum like this. He might as well be in your guts, and you're beginning to think you had been right in asking him to rearrange them for you. You lift your head, staring down between your legs. A low groan of astonishment leaves your lips. He's only halfway in.

You let out a keening moan before you nod. “Okay, okay. Keep going.”

If his cock is this big, you can't even imagine taking his knot.

He sinks even deeper, moving slowly as he watches your face. Your eyes are on the ceiling, the stretch seeming almost endless as it keeps going and going.

Finally he's seated inside you, practically snuggled up against your cervix, or at least that's what it feels like. You could cum just like this, laying here with your knees by your ears, stuffed full of Simon's cock. He wouldn’t even have to move, just stand there as you flutter around him, soaking his cock with your release.

“Fucking hell.” He groans as you squeeze around him, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath in.

“Can't help it,” You moan, squeezing around him again. “So big.”

He lets out a low groan, his hips twitching. “Tell me I can move. Let me fuck you.”

You're half tempted to stay silent, to lay here and see how long he lasts, how long he'll let you hold control before he takes over. A battle of wills, just as everything seems to become between you. Alpha versus omega, instinct versus instinct, willpower versus willpower. Just like every battle, though, you find yourself bowing, giving in, unable to fight the power he holds over you. It’s for a different reason this time, though, your desperation and neediness is just as strong as his. You’ve both been waiting for this, neglecting yourselves for far too long.

“Fuck me, Simon.” You breathe, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life. “Fuck me till I can't remember anything but your name.”

He lets out a low growl as he pulls back, drawing his cock out halfway before snapping his hips forward until they slap against yours. You yelp as your body rocks from the force of his thrust, not expecting it. He pulls his hips back slowly again before he repeats the motion, practically slamming into you. It hurts, stealing your breath away, but it leaves you feeling almost electric, pleasure bubbling under your skin.

Slowly his thrusts get shorter, but they lose none of their force as he fucks into you roughly. You're creating quite the cacophony of sounds from skin slapping skin and the obscene squelch of your pussy to your high pitched keening moans and his deep growls. His eyes are glued to your face, watching the pleasure glaze over your eyes as you stare at the bulge in your stomach from his cock.

He moves the pillow out from behind you, pushing you flat on your back as he folds his body over yours. He releases your legs, letting them drape over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you. There's a wild look in his eyes, your omega beginning to stir as your brain registers the shifting scents, the heavy musk in the room.

Sweat has slicked your skin and Simon's, mixing where your skin is pressed together. He turns his head, licking the skin of your thigh, tasting the salty sweat. Your mouth feels dry as you stare up at him, wanting to sink your teeth into him and chew on him. You want to make him bleed, have him howling in pain as he stuffs you so full you'll be leaking for a week.

You grip his forearms, your nails digging into his skin, making him hiss out a curse. A wild look flashes behind his eyes as he sinks his teeth into your thigh, clamping down as you continue to dig your nails into his arms, neither of you relenting. He shifts his hips just slightly, hitting a different angle that has you releasing his arms as pleasure wracks through you. He releases your thigh with a satisfied grin, fucking into at the new angle like a wild animal.

Your body shudders, your moans muffling as he presses two of his fingers into your mouth again, pushing on your tongue. You choke around them, fighting every urge to sink your teeth into his skin until he releases you or you taste blood.

“That’s it.” He grunts as you whimper desperately around his fingers. “You can take it.”

Drool seeps out from around his fingers as he fucks you until you’re almost cross-eyed, your pussy spasming around him as every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge.

You can’t stop it as you sink your teeth into his fingers, your legs squeezing together as your body seizes, your release gushing around his cock as you cum. Your eyes roll back, blood on your tongue as he wrenches his fingers from your mouth. Your head tilts back, back arching as he doesn’t stop, undeterred by your orgasm.

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, the clenching of your pussy almost painful as he continues to fuck you. “Fucking tight around me.”

“Please, please, Simon!” You whine, the only two words you can pull from your brain, and even they begin to mesh together into mindless babble as you grip his sheets, nearly pulling them off the edges of the mattress.

Tears leak from your eyes as he fucks into you so hard the frame shakes, knocking into the wall. He leans his head down, his teeth sinking into the skin over your collarbone until you bleed. Droplets of blood mix with the sweat dripping down your chest, Simon’s eyes following them as they disappear between your breasts.

“Gonna cum for me again?” He growls, blood staining his lips red. He looks like a ghoul, wild eyed and bloody mouthed, feasting on your flesh. An incubus sucking the life out of you as he brings you endless pleasure.

“Simon!” You squeal, eyes squeezing closed as you’re thrown into another orgasm, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you clench around him, almost as if your body is trying to suck his cock in deeper.

He continues to fuck you, every curse word known to man spilling from his lips as you tighten around him, dragging his own orgasm from him. He slams his hips into yours, letting out a feral growl as he spills into you. Warmth fills your belly as he spurts his hot cum into you, filling you up. Your legs are shaking where they’re tossed over his shoulders, clenching around his neck. His skin is flushed red from the bottom of his mask to the collar of his shirt.

You can’t move as you lay there, shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm. You want to take a break, tap out, ask for five minutes and a glass of water, but from the look in Simon’s eyes you know it’s not over yet. There’s no taking a break, not that he’s gotten a taste of your pussy.

He releases your legs, letting them drop off the side of the bed. He pulls away long enough to flip you over, bending you over the side of the bed. You whine as he presses his cock back into you, ignoring the squeeze of your sensitive walls as he splits you open around him again. He bends over you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips press flush to your ass.

“Simon.” You whine, your hands gripping the sheets as his hand snakes around you, wrapping around your throat.

He growls low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. You squeeze around him, a chill running through you, your instincts telling you to run or roll over in submission to him. Your omega claws at your mind, desperate to meet him toe to toe, one for one. You begin to push your hips back into him, fucking yourself on his cock as his teeth sink into the skin on the back of your shoulder. The tables have turned, the control has shifted.

He’s not Simon anymore.

Your lips part in a gasp as he thrusts into you, meeting your own movements on his cock, reminding you who’s in charge, who holds the reigns in this position. The word comes tumbling from your lips, brainlessly and unconsciously, no thoughts there to stop it, your hands too busy clinging to the sheets for dear life to even prevent it from slipping out.

“Alpha!”

NEXT ->