riley

Too many options. You weigh them. He'll give anything, you could ask for his mouth or thick fingers or dick. Could push off your back and clamber onto his lap. He's a mess but hiding it well, save for telling pinched brows.

"Wanna see you better."

He sits high on his knees and blinks at you, trying to focus. It's hard, when you're a glowing vision in his backseat and nude besides underwear. An angel. Splayed and running a tender hand along his chest, your thumb coaxes his nipple.

"Fuck," he hisses, dark lashes aflutter.

You smile. Rarely are you the one doing the teasing.

"Sensitive," you coo and pinch quick. "Oh, you like that."

Ribbons of silver moonlight bleed through the windows, strapping across his abdomen. They set the honey-blond hairs above his belt flaming white, flowing down his navel in a band, beckoning to be licked and touched.

You twist his nipple between a delicate thumb and index. He barely swallows a whimper.

"Baby." He scrambles to hitch your thigh up his waist, holding it there while he helplessly grinds the swell of his jeans against you. "Fuck, you're so- so good. A fuckin' angel."

Your hand falls and settles on his bicep. He ruts slow and stuttered, lowering himself to press the point of his nose beside your ear. Powdery fragrance, he breathes in and in again, chest flowering with sticky, sweet love.

"Dean, I... oh."

He raises his head, fingers kneading at the dough of your leg. His rings indent cold and your half-lidded eyes tug his heart achingly. You've such a breathy, faraway voice and he hasn't even fucked you stupid yet.

"Good?" he checks. "Feels good? You like this?"

You nod feverish, catching his chin with a sloppy, pillowed kiss. He's got enough sense to grin lopsided and swallow your mouth whole, tongue needling for yours. This earns him a dreamy, lilting sigh that pits straight to his gut and pools there in welling heat.

"Y'sound like..." he starts, mumbling and blissed, following a connecting string of saliva back towards your lips. Can't ever get his fill, mind a mantra of you, warm, soft, sugary. "Heaven. What does heaven sound like?"

A shaky breath passes from your nose. "Heavenly, I'd guess."

He licks a stripe on your throat. Your arms cross over his shoulder blades, palm scooping through spiked hair, hips lifting to meet his movement. A small, hiccupping sound flies from him traitorously, bordering on plea.

"Jesus- shit," he says. His clothed thrusts become sloppy.

"Here," you offer, reaching for his belt. "Please."

There's nothing else to think about, to feel, except for your fingertips grazing past that musky trail on his low stomach. He slows, missing the friction as it wanes, but adoring your cautious expression. Excitedly nervous. Your pinkie curls around a belt loop. His palm skates the length of your thigh.

"Y'don't have to," he murmurs. "It's okay, baby."

Dean decides you must be magic, when your eyes find his. Glittering jewels amidst the dim light in the car. He can see your smile, a perfect, curling thing, and holds back from kissing you again and again until your brain is mush.

"Want to," you reply. His belt comes undone with a clink.

The button of his jeans pops out lazy under your tentative touch, but he doesn't rush. Rolls his lip beneath a shiny canine as you slide the zipper down and stifles a whiny beg. You're soft and pretty and he wants to bury himself in your skin forever.

You work his jeans to his knees and then pause to watch him quietly, ignoring his straining boxers, your chest pulling with prolonged rises. He wonders where that brief teasing went but loves you just as much, like this. Affected.

"Hey," he whispers. Leans quickly to give a smacking kiss to your hip bone. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you. You're, um. You're beautiful, too."

His body pangs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Can you fuck me, now? Please."

Yes, yes, yes.

Clumsy in this small space, he manages to kick off his pants without hitting the top of his head and yanks his wallet from the back pocket to grab a condom. Brings it to his teeth and tears it open. His supply is diminishing.

"Yeah, yeah, baby. Yes. C'mere."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

“got me under some kind of spell, don’t you?”

your stomach twists at the memory of his face changing after he said it. your body going cold while everything else stayed hot. the way you scrambled off his lap so fast your knee nearly made you slip. the way he caught your elbow and let go the second you told him not to touch you. 

that had made it worse. a part of you wished he hadn’t. that he’d kiss the shock out of both of you. that he’d handled you rough but cleanly. like he used to before. 

you lie on your back and stare at the ceiling until your eyes start to burn. stupid, stupid, stupid—

someone passes your door in the hall. your body reacts before you decide to—shoulders tense, breath held. for one pathetic second, you think it’s him. you’re still getting used to the new safehouse. to the way the pipes complain differently in the night. to the way the floor creaks differently depending on who’s crossing to the living room, but you haven’t had the chance to give it a pattern. 

the floor whines again, lighter this time, and then knuckles tap softly against your door. not him. 

“hey,” annie says from the other side, voice soft and quiet. “you awake?”

you close eyes. “yeah.” 

she pauses, head probably leaning against the chipped wood. considering if she should say the next thing or let you in the safety of those four walls. then, heavier, “you should come see this.” 

nothing good has ever followed that sentence. 

you sit up anyway. the shirt you slept in is twisted around your waist. your shorts sit crooked on your hips, and you fix them with more force than necessary before dragging a hoodie over your head. you don’t check your reflection. whatever’s happening out there doesn’t need a prettier version of you.

annie is waiting in the hallway when you open the door. she looks like she slept about as well as you did, hair tied back messily, face too pale beneath the early light. 

“what is it?” you ask.

she hesitates. that’s answer enough.

the television is on in the living room. everyone’s already there. mm stands near the arm of the couch with his arms crossed and his face set into something hard. hughie sits forward on the edge of a chair, one hand pressed to his mouth. kimiko’s beside frenchie at the table, where his laptop is open and connected to two drives by a mess of cords. he’s the only one not staring at the screen. butcher leans in the kitchen doorway, mug in hand, expression sharp in a way that means he’s enjoying himself and is furious at the same time.

soldier boy stands by the counter, half-turned toward the television. he doesn’t look at you when you enter. you don’t look at him either. your body notices him anyway.

firecracker’s face fills the screen, bright and smug under studio lights, hair arranged into the kind of patriotic waves that look flammable. a banner crawls beneath her in violent red letters: vought event attacked by starlight radicals. beneath that, smaller: suspected terrorist associate identified.

then your face appears beside hers. 

you stop walking.

it’s not a good photo. that’s your first thought, which is ridiculous enough that you almost laugh before the rest of it arrives. it’s a still from the civic center, grainy and overlit, your catering shirt bright beneath the fluorescent hallway glow. your head is turned halfway, mouth slightly open, eyes caught between focus and movement.

then the graphic changes. your full name. your age. the town where you grew up.

something cold slides beneath your ribs.

firecracker smiles. “now, folks, this is what they don’t want you to see. a seemingly ordinary young woman radicalized by starlight’s extremist network, infiltrating a patriotic vought event under false credentials and fleeing the scene with none other than soldier boy.”

your mouth parts as the graphic shifts again, a new still flashing onto the screen—grainy but unmistakable. soldier boy’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, pulling you down the hallway, your body half-turned toward him as he drags you toward the exit. your skin instantly heats up at the memory now eternalized thanks to firecracker’s hillbilly show. 

“holy shit,” hughie says softly.

firecracker leans toward the camera. “and i don’t know about you, but when a girl that pretty from a nice place like that ends up running around with america’s number one traitor and starlight’s little terrorist club, i start asking questions.”

a sound leaves you. not fully a laugh. not sane enough for that. startled, ugly, almost delighted despite the fact that your life has just been turned into a headline. you point at the screen. “did she just call me pretty?”

mm turns to you immediately. “don’t look so fuckin’ proud.”

the laugh dies in your throat.

he nods toward the tv. “that’s your name. your face. where you’re from. everybody who knew you before this is about to have reporters, vought freaks, or worse knocking on their doors.”

the room settles heavily around the truth.

firecracker keeps talking behind him, voice bright and poisonous. “citizens are urged not to approach. if you see this woman, contact vought security or local authorities immediately. do not engage. these people are dangerous, unstable, and working directly against the safety of the american people.”

you stare at the screen until your own face blurs. dangerous. unstable. you want to laugh again but you fear you might be sick first.

butcher takes a drink from his mug. “well. congratulations, love. you made telly.”

“shut up,” annie snaps.

“what? she did.”

you look away from the screen because looking at yourself like that feels too much like standing outside your own body. “i need coffee.”

the coffee machine is behind soldier boy. naturally, the universe has developed comic timing and decided to use it against you. you don’t let that stop you.

you walk into the kitchen and stop beside him. “move.”

he glances down at the very narrow space between his body and the counter. “there’s room.”

“you’re blocking the coffee.”

“reach.”

you stare at his profile. “i’m not reaching around you.”

his mouth shifts by almost nothing. “‘s that a new rule?”

heat snaps up your neck so fast you nearly forget there’re other people alive in the room. “you need to actually shut the fuck up,” you mutter, wishing your voice had actually been low enough to not carry through the room.

his eyes flick toward you then. not your face first. your mouth. quick enough to show he’s thinking about it too. “quiet morning voice. cute.”

you grab the empty mug nearest to him. “keep talking and i’ll pour it down your lap.”

“where would you sit then?”

the words tumble from his lips so smugly that your brain actually malfunctions. your eyes widen, cheeks flush, mouth left parted and empty where a pretty insult should stand. instead, you’re speechless. 

mm makes a sound from the living room. “both of you, not today.”

soldier boy actually shifts half a step. like that does anything.

you pour coffee with a hand that wouldn’t be steady enough to fire a gun. the mug fills too close to the brim. you lift it carefully and burn your fingers anyway, which feels appropriate.

from the table, frenchie mutters, “mon dieu...”

eyes flick toward him. he’s not gawking at the sbow you and soldier boy just put on. he’s not shocked from listening to the nonsense  in firecracker’s segment. frenchie’s eyes are glued to the screen of his laptop, face serious. the room changes.

butcher’s eyes sharpen. “what is it?”

frenchie turns the laptop so the rest of the room can see. “the civic center servers were connected to vought medical archives. not public files. internal research. trial reports.”

“for what?” annie asks.

frenchie hesitates, then says, “v24.”

temp v.

your coffee turns sour before you even have the chance to taste it. hughie looks down. annie sees. everyone sees.

frenchie scrolls with stiff fingers. “the damage is cumulative. repeated exposure causes neurological lesions, organ stress, tissue breakdown. vought recorded fatal collapse between three and five doses. sometimes sooner.”

silence presses into every corner of the safehouse. fatal collapse between three and five doses.

firecracker’s show continues on the tv, but someone must’ve muted it because her mouth keeps moving without sound. your face remains on the corner graphic, frozen mid-turn.

annie’s voice is small and furious. “hughie.”

he rubs both hands over his face. “i’m okay.”

“how many?”

“annie—”

“how many times did you fucking take it?”

he doesn’t answer quickly enough.

butcher sighs. “not the time for lovers’ arithmetic.”

mm’s stare cuts to him and he doesn’t raise his voice. he just looks at butcher like he’s trying to give him one last chance to do the right thing without being forced. “then we’ll do yours. how many?”

butcher looks bored. that means he’s hiding something. “enough.”

mm’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking near his temple, and when he speaks again it’s slower, each word pressed out with effort, “say the number.”

“two,” hughie says quietly.

annie closes her eyes.

butcher lifts a shoulder. “same neighborhood.”

frenchie’s voice is strained. “this is not a cold, monsieur. this is brain damage. organ damage. death.”

“yeah, gathered that from fatal collapse, french,” butcher raises a brow.

kimiko signs sharply over frenchie’s shoulder. frenchie translates, eyes still on butcher. “she says you are an idiot.”

butcher points his mug toward her. “tell her ive been told.”

you hear them, but the room has gone strange around the edges. three to five doses. hughie has two. butcher has two, maybe more. you have one. one.

you look at the muted television. your own face stares back at you from under firecracker’s red headline. vought has your name, your town, your face, your connection to soldier boy. the deep knows you. homelander might know by now. noir is still alive because soldier boy chose the hallway where you were cornered instead of the mission he came here to finish.

your fingers tighten around the mug, as math works faster than fear and your mouth lets the thought escape without permission. “then i’m the safest one to take another dose.”

everyone turns. the words hang in the kitchen, awful and neat.

soldier boy’s head moves slowly toward you. “that’s off the table.”

your jaw tightens. “that wasn’t a question.”

“didn’t sound like a smart idea either.”

“if noir shows up again—”

“you’re not taking that shit again.”

“i’m not asking permission.”

his expression hardens so fast you know the hit is coming before he speaks.

“yeah,” he scoffs, dry and mean. “noticed you’re real good at that.”

it lands exactly where he aims and you go quiet. not because he wins. because he's right, and you hate that he’s earned the cruelty.

butcher watches with interest he doesn't bother hiding. “for what's worth, she’s not wrong.”

soldier boy turns on him. “it’s worth shit.”

“math checks out.”

“butcher,” mm warns.

“what? if somebody has to take another dose, better her than hughie’s brain leaking out his ears.”

hughie flinches. “jesus christ.”

“nobody is taking anything,” annie says. “not her. not you. not hughie. nobody.”

“sweet,” butcher says. “then we’ll all hold hands and ask homelander to please stop being such a cunt.”

mm steps forward. “we’re done with secret doses. frenchie keeps digging. nobody touches another vial unless the whole room knows exactly what choice is being made.”

choice. the word passes through the kitchen and finds every sore place. 

frenchie’s chair creaks. “there is more,” he says.

butcher closes his eyes. “naturally.”

frenchie looks back at the laptop. “the v24 files connect to older vought archives. payback. nicaragua. military research. genetic storage.”

frenchie scrolls once, then stops. kimiko leans closer to the screen. her face changes.

mm's the first to speak. “frenchie?”

frenchie doesn’t answer.

butcher moves behind him and reads over his shoulder. for once, the joke doesn’t come.

“what?” annie asks.

frenchie swallows. “this is not about temp v.”

soldier boy’s voice is flat. “spit it out.”

frenchie looks at him, then at the screen again, like the laptop has become something indecent. “homelander’s development file. early laboratory documentation. not the public asset record.”

the coffee mug feels heavy in your hand.

“paternal genetic source,” frenchie reads carefully. “sample origin…” his voice fails.

butcher finishes it for him. “homelander’s your boy.”

the world loses sound. you understand the words in pieces. homelander. soldier boy. genetic source. vought. son.

soldier boy doesn't move.

for one long second, he stands beside the coffee machine with his hands empty and his face locked so tightly that you almost miss the impact. there’s no softness there. no wonder. no sudden fatherly light. only something deeper than anger trying to find somewhere to go and failing because there’s nowhere big enough.

“bullshit,” he says.

frenchie turns the laptop slightly. “it’s in the file.”

“no.”

butcher’s voice is unusually low. “they used your material.”

the phrase makes your skin crawl.

soldier boy’s eyes flick to him. “when?”

frenchie scrolls. “samples were collected before your disappearance. stored under military research. transferred into the homelander program after—”

“after they got rid of me,” soldier boy concludes and nobody corrects him.

on the tv, firecracker’s muted face smiles beside yours. your name sits beneath hers like another file.

soldier boy steps toward the laptop.

everyone shifts without meaning to. giving him room. giving the bomb room. he looks at the screen for just long enough. then he asks, “who knew?”

butcher’s jaw tightens. “vought. vogelbaum. edgar. noir might’ve.”

you see the name land ugly. noir who walked away yesterday. noir who might’ve known what vought built from him. noir who might’ve carried this secret while soldier boy rotted in russia.

mm moves slightly. “take a breath.”

soldier boy looks at him. “move.”

“soldier boy—” you take one step before you decide to. you don’t know where you’re going. toward soldier boy, maybe. toward the thing in him that just got opened. toward the old, stupid instinct that thinks pain is a problem you can put your hands on and solve.

mm’s eyes cut to you. “not now.” you stop. he looks at you for another second. not unkindly. not soft either. “give him space.”

your throat tightens. you want to argue. you want to say you weren’t going to. you want to say something that makes you less obvious. but mm is right, and that makes your mouth close. this isn't about you.

soldier boy walks out of the kitchen without looking at anyone. the house seems to hold its breath after him. you move again, barely. not enough to follow. only enough to betray that you want to.

mm says your name once.

you stop at the edge of the kitchen and nod because anything else might come out wrong.

the room doesn’t recover. annie turns away from hughie like she needs space from one disaster before she can face another. hughie stares at the muted television, where your face is still pinned beneath the word terrorist. butcher sits down slowly, mug untouched now. frenchie keeps looking at the file as if the letters might rearrange into some other truth that doesn't completely ruin this team.

finally, the room settles enough to let you retreat. you slip into your room quietly. down the hall, a door doesn't quite close. you shouldn’t listen. still, you listen enough. a filtered female voice says, clipped and professional, “hold for connection.” there's static. then a click.

silence holds for a moment before a voice everyone in america knows, stripped of crowd noise and cameras and stage lights until it sounds smaller than it should.

“is this really you?” homelander. the question hangs there, almost young.

soldier boy doesn’t answer right away.

you stand frozen in the hallway, vought’s version of your face glowing silently from the tv behind you, frenchie’s files still open in the kitchen, and the whole world balanced on the space before soldier boy speaks.

then his voice comes through the half-closed door. low. rough. changed. “the situation’s changed.”

ben wakes up that night in hot sweats, the only company in his cold, empty bed being the alcohol-stained comforter.

you don’t wake up to the soft thump of ben’s feet against your room’s floor. he’s standing over your peaceful, sleepy body, hand cupped and slowly rubbing over the crotch of his sweatpants. you look so sweet - innocent - like this: the soft rise of your chest as you breathe, the little outfit you wear to bed, the cute panties he can just see peeking out from under your top. such a stark contrast to what he’s about to do.

you groan softly, still asleep, when he climbs on top of you. the mattress dips under his weight, but the commotion isn’t enough to wake you up.

“fuck, so sweet for me, baby,” his voice is rough and deep, the kind that sends shockwaves through your body.

he reaches out, gentler than usual, to hike up your top. he curses quietly when your breasts spill out, his hand immediately reaching to knead at your soft skin. your eyebrows tighten unconsciously when the tip of his pointer finger rubs over one of your nipples. he sits like that for a while, hovering over your body. his big hands cover the bottom halves of your breasts, rough fingers rolling and tugging your nipples.

you don’t so much as flinch when he rolls down your panties, tossing them from your ankle. his throat goes dry at the sight of you. you’re already starting to get wet from his little massage, a glisten of arousal dripping right between your lips.

“shit- trained up so well for daddy, huh? don’t even gotta touch you and you’re all ready to take me,”

he runs two fingers from the top of your mound alllllll the way down in between your ass. he brings his hand back up, pinching and rolling your swollen clit between the pads of his fingertips. you hike your hips up to meet his touch, a small whimper releasing from your throat.

his other hand reaches below the waistband of his sweats and grips the base of his dick. he holds back a grunt, not wanting to wake you yet, easing the pants down his hips to his knees.

he slowly rolls you to lie on your tummy, parting your ass with two hands to get access to your cunt. he opens his mouth and lets a dribble of his spit fall onto your puffy lips, sinking into your own lubrication.

he kneels above you, knees on either side of your thighs - effectively trapping you if you try to get away - and taps his tip against you. he sits like that for a while, tip rubbing and pressing against your entrance while his hands alternate from massaging your ass to rolling your clit.

finally, slowly, he sinks in.

you immediately jolt awake from the sharp intrusion, eyes snapping open and legs kicking in shock. you let out a string of whimpers and moans, hands reaching to find anything to hold onto.

“shhh, sweet thing. ‘s just me. ‘s just daddy.”

you continue to struggle under him, legs knocking upwards to slap against his calves, and he just chuckles. one of his hands reaches to grab your wrists, securing them behind your back like handcuffs. all you can hear is blood rushing through your head and his deep, raspy voice, your entire brain focused on how he’s bullying himself inside you.

“nu uh, c’mon, calm down. be good.”

his tip brushes your g-spot, and you melt back into the sheets with a breathless moan. to calm you more, he focuses there, grinding his hips down into the spongy spot. you mewl a quiet ‘daddy’ when you finally come to your senses, nerves still wired from waking up like this.

“mhm, dad’s got you, baby.”

he lets go of your hands, and you reach down to hold onto the sheets. he groans a curse into your ear when your back arches into his body, allowing him to slide even further into you. tiny tears prick your waterline as he pushes himself deeper and deeper.

“i know, it’s so scary to wake up with daddy inside you, but he needs this right now.”

you mewl when he bottoms out, his hips pressing into your ass. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, starts thrusting so deeply you get air and whimpers forced from your lungs.

“being such a good girl for me,”

you moan a small ‘dad’, trying your best to respond.

“aww, yeah, gettin’ so much better at takin’ daddy.”

wet slaps resound in the space between you two, your arousal coating ben’s upper thighs and your ass.

“remember when ‘could barely fit half in? threw a fit the entire time too, crying your lil’ ass off,”

you flinch away from him when you feel a free hand reeeeach down between your legs, above where he’s stretching you. he circles the tight hole between your ass with the tip of his thumb once, twice, before sinking in.

you cry out softly, lip caught between your front teeth.

“oh, still so tight, huh? how’s dad ever gonna fuck you in here if you can’t even take one of his thumbs?”

you hiccup after his rhetorical question, overwhelmed by being filled in both holes. his dick is brushing that sensitive spot so deep inside, hitting against it every time he thrusts. your body goes tense when he starts thrusting his thumb simultaneously, pulling on the entrance from the inside.

“too- oh- too full,” you whine, limp thighs shaking against the mattress. a second moan gets knocked out of you when he knocks his hips into yours. “daddy-”

“you getting dumb on me now? y’know you can take it,”

you cry quietly, lifting your hips slightly, trying to fuck back into him. you fail after two attempts, only managing a slight arch.

“aww, cute little thing,”

he removes his hand from your hip and slides it under your stomach. he lifts your bottom half, forcing you into a mean arch with your hips in the air, knees supporting your body. you immediately feel the change in position, biting back a loud whimper.

now, with each thrust, he hits every sweet spot and somehow gets deeper.

“oh yeah, that feels good, huh? feelin’ good for daddy?”

you nod feverishly, panting into the sheets and pushing back into his hips when his thumb starts moving again. you feel the tight, hot coil deep in your lower belly start to tighten, your clit throbbing for attention.

“fuck, tightenin’ on me like crazy,” he grunts, gritting his teeth so his eyes don’t roll back in the sockets.

he’s pretending not to know what you need. his thrusts get slower, allowing himself to grind as deep as he can while sitting still.

“daddy-”

“mmm, what is it, baby?” he smirks, and you can hear it in his voice.

“daddy, need’a cum so bad, please-”

“awww, can’t cum like this?”

you shake your head.

“thought i raised you better than that, greedy girl. gotta beg dad a little harder, yeah?”

you sniffle, sucking in shallow breaths.

“please, please- make me cum, dad, need it so, so bad- feels so good, please,”

he hums in satisfaction, smiling to himself as he increases the pace of his thrusts. you mewl, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. he curses under his breath, the hand under your stomach lifting you further towards him. it puts uncomfortable pressure on your bladder, making you cry even more.

“god- fuck, baby, such a pretty girl,”

his fingers trail down, latching to your clit and squeezing. he pinches so hard your eyes momentarily black out, and the next second you’re cumming hard. you buck and your mouth drops open, walls clenching around his dick.

he doesn’t stop. he rolls your sticky clit between his fingers, thrusting down into your g-spot, arm squeezing your lower stomach. your orgasm doesn’t end, and you feel the familiar feeling creep up under your clit. your eyebrows pinch, and a long whine drops from your mouth when you squirt, a stream of liquid pouring from your cunt onto his dick and thighs.

“oh yes, good girl, c’mon, cum for daddy,”

his hips twitch, and his eyes flutter closed. he continues to roll your clit, stimulating more squirt to come out of your body.

“daddy’s gonna cum, okay? gonna cum in you, baby- oh, fuck-”

he groans deeply and keels over your body, cum seeping inside you.

“oh- oh, fuck- oh god, baby- take daddy’s cum, take it all-”

you writhe from overstimulation, tears and drool pooling below your face on the sheets.

it feels like forever that you two lie there catching your breath. you nod in and out of sleep, blinking your eyes open when you feel a warm, wet towel wiping your folds. he murmurs, ‘shhh, go back to bed,’ so you do.

you and ben sat beside each other on the creaky bed, just barely touching under the covers you are forced to share. you’re sat up with your arms around your knees, while ben is sprawled out with his arm beneath his head.

going on vacations and trips with your friend, emma, and her dad was not uncommon. you two were glued at the hip ever since first becoming friends. you’d share rooms, beds, sometimes even showers. it wasn’t weird to you or her, so there stood no problem. every trip, you and emma would end up rooming while her father would get himself a single, but this time was different.

emma got herself a boyfriend. and with said boyfriend, she had to room with him. it was the most logical. so unfortunately you were stuck rooming with her father, ben.

ben was always good to you, making sure you felt like his real daughter. he loved you like his own, and certainly treated you as such. luckily for him, your father was a deadbeat, so ben quickly filled himself into a fatherly role.

here you were now, years later, formed as a proper woman—your body was enough evidence for that. he was infatuated with you, which made him decide that it was finally time to mark you as his.

letting out a yawn, you leaned over to grab the remote as the movie had ended. you don’t realize that your ass was up in bens view, with your back arched as you reached for the remote. you let out a struggled sound, your arms just not long enough to reach.

ben chuckled behind you, and swiftly pressed against you to grab the remote. him being much bigger than you, he pulled it with ease. you let out a gasp, feeling your ass flush against his crotch. you quickly recoil, slamming yourself back onto the mattress away from him.

after turning off the tv, ben placed himself on top of you, and glided his hand down your cheek. it tickles you ever-so slightly, until it reached your neck, which he firmly gripped.

“ben…” you whispered, “what are you doing?” your voice was ignored as ben stared down at you. he licked his bottom lip, his eyes still on your plush lips. “just trust me, sweetheart,” he whispers.

you weren’t blind; you knew from the day you met him how good looking he was. although being much older, he looked amazing. he had a full head of hair, beautiful doe eyes, and a god-sculpted body. but you avoided thinking about him like that, he was your best friend's father after all. you couldn’t let whatever it is he wanted to happen. it was wrong, disgusting, maybe even unlawful. because no matter what, you started to see ben as a father, someone you had grown to trust and love.

“no, please. stop,” you breathed. you were scared, terrified. you wanted to believe he wasn’t in his right mind, that he was in a state of delusion—that he didn’t know what he was doing. but he knew, alright.

bringing his face closer to yours, he gripped your throat harder. “don’t make this hard… unless you like it that way.” he smirked wickedly before bringing his lips to your neck. you let out a whimper as he kissed and sucked on your neck, being sure to leave traces of himself. you tried to push him away, but he was too strong. he growled on top of you, pulling away from your neck. “stop fucking moving,” he demanded. you let out a sob, accepting your defeat.

with a victorious smile on his face, ben began to pull your shirt off. he tossed it behind him and began to lick and kiss all over your chest. despite still wearing a bralette, it was sheer and thin so it served no barrier. you'd never felt this before-such intimate actions. his tongue darted to circle around your covered nipple, his saliva soaking the fabric. your jaw slacked and back arched against his mouth. chuckling, ben lightly bit at your nipple before letting his tongue graze over it. you whimpered, unintentionally grinding yourself against his hard body.

"look at you, sweetheart. look at how much you want this," he whispered. his hands kneaded your breasts while he studied you with lustful eyes. your eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and hands still slightly pushing his chest. you began to shake your head furiously, lips forming a pout before you start to sob.

"no, stop. i don't want this. p-please.."

"you want it. you want it real bad, princess. look at you, grinding against me so hard," he whispered into your ear sensually. his hand left your breast, and moved to cup your clothed cunt. granted, your pyjama shorts are as thin as your bralette, and of course, you're not wearing panties.

“let me show you what a real man feels like, yeah? you need this, baby.” your hips bucked at his words, receiving the smallest amount of friction against his hand. you moaned lowly, head pressing hard against the pillow beneath you.

ben bit his lip and slowly started to circle his fingers against your clothed clit. he admired how your lips parted, lewd moans and whimpers slipping out. he knew how much you needed this, how much you’ll thank him when he’s done. he knows you’ve never had sex, never even had a boyfriend before. how? the walls are thin, obviously.

ben’s fingers suddenly stopped, causing you to finally open your eyes. “please,” you whined. he simply chuckled. he swiftly switched their positions, having you straddle his one thigh with her chest against his. he reveled in the innocent, teary-eyed look you gave him—unsure, embarrassed, utterly aroused. as much as he wanted to rush it and use you dry, he decided to let you feel something to get you started. “have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?”

your face immediately glowed red, eyes darting everywhere but to his. of course, you knew what touching yourself meant, how it would work, why people did it. but you had always been too academically focussed, shielded by family, or even too oblivious to have done such things. and by the time you were finally exposed to everything, it had felt too late, so you didn’t bother. but hearing the question come from ben felt shameful, you were unsure what the right answer would be. whether to lie or not.

ben waited a moment, two moments, before grabbing your throat. “i asked you a question, sweetheart.” you let out a struggled sigh and shook your head slowly. he grinned, and pulled your neck to lay a kiss on your forehead. of course, he was so glad you hadn’t. that you hasn’t been spoiled and was all for him to teach.

pulling off his shirt, he propped you on the middle of his thigh. he slightly moved your hips back and forth, showing you what it feels like. you let out a sigh, clearly liking the feeling. even without your noises, ben could feel your slick through the clothes that separate you both. “that feel good, huh? keep going,” he ordered.

you gave a hesitant nod before slowly grinding against his thigh. you let out a low groan, realizing how good it felt. you began to pick up the pace, humping on him like a dog in heat. your hands find their place on his chest to keep balance, and ben’s hands find their way to your breasts once again. he discards your bra, letting it join the discarded clothes on the ground. he snaked one hand around your back, pushing you harder on his thigh in an act of guidance. he slouched his back to bring your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue against the now bare skin.

you let out a whimper, back arching into him, letting your hands tug at his hair. your hips roll on him desperately, feeling a knot in your stomach. “fuck! fuck! please, please daddy,” you moan. ben let out a growl at the name you’d given him, applying his thumb to press against your clit. “let it out, sweetheart, c’mon.” and that you do with eyes rolling back and mouth slacked open. your hips stutter but ben helps by stimulating your clit to help ride out your orgasm.

he doesn’t stop circling your clit, however, causing you to twitch and whimper. “p-please, s’t-too much!” your body curled up and try to push his hand away, but ben doesn’t let up. he bites your nipple, causing you to scream. your sobs make ben let out a laugh.

“please! p-please, stop, it h-hurts… i-i can’t take it!” your arms snaked around his neck in a hug, your cries loud in his ear. he revelled in it.

he leaves your cunt, and wraps his arms around your waist, attempting to soothe you. “you’re beautiful, so beautiful.”

you sniffle and pull back, staring into his eyes, faces mere inches apart. your doe-like eyes are tearful, with snot starting to leak down her nose, it was gross, but ben loved it.

“did I do good?” you whispered hesitantly.

he smiled, “so good, doll.” you mirrored his smile, “really?”

he breathed a laugh, taking your hand in his and guiding it to his clothed erection. he held your hand there as his other pushed the back of your head close. with his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “look what you do to me, sweetheart.” you gasped.

ben guided your hand up and down his girthy member, applying pressure to the fingers, letting you squeeze him. stifling a groan, he let go of your hand. he undressed himself entirely, allowing his throbbing erection free to slap against his lower stomach.

you studied his cock, mouth watering at the sight. it was huge, thick with veins bulging across it. his pubes were trimmed elegantly, making you wonder what he was preparing for? your stomach fluttered at the thought of you being the one he was expecting.

“touch it,” he murmured, slightly adjusting his hips into a more comfortable position. you whimpered as he moved, still sensitive clit gaining a small amount of friction. your legs tightly wrapped around his bare thigh, trying hardest not to move. you gave him a worried look, which he immediately understood. “it’s okay, just touch it, i’ll guide you,” he reassured.

you let out a shaky breath and nodded, smaller hands wrapping around his cock. not knowing what you were doing, you started twisting the skin, causing an uncomfortable groan to leave ben’s lips. he quickly grabbed your hands, causing you to panic. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

ben was starting to lose his patience, but he tried his best to mask it. “it’s alright, sweetheart. just let me show you, yeah?” he held your hand in his as he wrapped them around his dick. slowly gathering his leaking pre-cum, he started to pump himself with your hand.

“like this, okay, doll? up and down. you understand?” he toyed. he squeezed your hand around him, pumping faster, more erratic. you nodded furiously, “yes, i understand. i want to make you feel good,” you said, eyes glued to his bright red tip that emerged every time your hand slid down. ben groaned, his head falling back, and his hand leaving yours. “go on then, help your dad out. you want to be my good girl, don’t you, sweetheart?”

you let out a moan, and began to pump his cock as he had taught you. “yes-yeah. i wanna be your good girl.” you grew determined to make him feel good, so you added another hand to pump him. ben smirked, snaking his free hand to squeeze your breasts. “yeah, doll. you’re so good, look how good you make me feel. such a good girl.”

your head spun from the constant praise and his hands kneading your perked tits. your hands slowed on his cock, before picking up the pace, going faster than ever.

“i want to cum in you, doll. so let’s save me for a bit, okay?” he cooed, pulling your hands off his shaft. you nodded. your mind has been nothing but hazy for the night, arousal clouding over your better judgement. the fact that this was her best friend’s father, lingered in the back of your mind. but you were too far gone, too drunk on the pleasures he brought.

ben swiftly sat up and pushed you against the bed on your back. he pulled apart your legs, though you had to stretch out more as he was so much more larger than you. you let out a whine as he pressed against your sensitive core.

he struggled to control himself as he saw your swollen, puffy cunt. it looked perfect, smelled perfect, too. your arousal leaked down between your cheeks, coated in a shiny gloss.

he decided to tease you, needing to break you fully. to ruin you. he sensually massaged your inner thigh, gliding his thumb so close to your needy cunt. “look at you, so dirty,” he whispered, “you need me so bad, say it. beg me to fuck you dry.” he blew a breath to your cunt, making you shiver and moan.

“p-please, i need you so bad. i need you in me so bad. please, i need this.” you begged.

without further warning, ben slammed into you, not being able to contain himself any longer. you let out a scream, back instinctively arching, chest pressing against his. you felt so full, so warm. it hurt, but you pushed through.

he let out a grunt, feeling your virgin cunt tight around him. he grabbed onto your throat, pulling you to meet his lips.

you roughly kissed—you mostly not knowing what you’re doing, but ben didn’t care. his tongue entered your mouth, assaulting yours. his hand around your throat made it hard to breathe, and you let out exasperated pants and whimpers.

leaving your mouth, he travelled down your neck to your perked nipples; he enveloped one with his mouth, and used his hand to play with the other. all while his thrusts continued to meet your hips, his cock basically abusing your cervix. you moaned wildly, back arching and legs squirming.

“so fucking good. you’re just a good fucking girl, aren’t you? You’re dad’s good girl, say it.”

your eyes rolled back, mouth dropping open as he began to rub his thumb over your throbbing clit. you began to buck your hips into him, the pleasure overwhelming. you needed release, to feel how you felt when you rode his thigh, but something told you this would be a much better orgasm.

ben’s teeth around your nipple snaps you back into reality. “t-that hurts!” he doesn’t give up, waiting for your words. he applied more pressure, revelling in the way you squirmed.

“please! im daddy’s good girl, i am!” you moan as the pain started to turn into pleasure. ben took note of it, chuckling against you. “look at you, so dirty. you’re so desperate for daddy, arent you? you close, doll? you wanna cum around your dad’s thick cock?”

you shut your eyes tight, drool leaking down the side of your mouth, snot dripping down your nose. “yes, please. i need to cum so bad. i’m so, so close!”

ben’s thrusts become animalistic, fucking you raw, so hard that he thinks there may be blood. his heavy balls slap against your ass, “you gonna milk me dry, sweetheart? milk me with that tight, virgin pussy? well… it’s not anymore,” he laughed.

you moaned, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. your bare chests flush against each other. “oh—fuck. it’s too much!”

your head fell back as your body jerked violently. you exploded around him with a scream. “fuck! oh, my god.”

your desperate cries and pulsing core pushed ben over the edge, his cock twitching in you before releasing ropes of hot seed. he pushed himself into you as far as he could go, wanting—no—needing to fill your womb. “fuck, sweetheart. you’re such a good fucking girl, sucking my cock in so hard, so greedy.”

he thrusted in a few more times, pushing his seed deeper in you, before pulling out. he watched your gaping hole as it clenched around nothing, some of his cum spilling out. he admired his work, watching your bruised cunt spasm.

he let out a chuckle, and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead. “you did so well, doll. such a good girl,” he whispered. he moved down and began to place kisses over your face. cheeks, nose, lips. he realized how tired and worn out you looked, eyes half-lidded as you fell in and out of consciousness. “rest up, little one, tomorrow i want to teach you something more exciting.”