૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

you began pacing inside your dorm, luckily UA's collegiate campus wasn't very big and the men's dorms were in the building next door. you looked down at your outfit and grimaced. your very well loved and well worn sweatpants and your dad's college sweater had definitely seen better days. you quickly rifled through your closet to see what would be appropriate. something slightly seductive and didn't make it look like you had a giant neon sign pointed directly at your crotch that said "ENTER HERE".

a flash of red ribbon caught the corner of your eye and immediately felt your face flush with embarrassment. with slightly trembling hands you reached down to the back of your closet and pulled out a black box that had started to gathered dust.

you remember the moment that Mina shoved it into your hands at your birthday party last year.

you pulled gently at the ribbon and set the box on your desk, you hadn't opened it since she had gifted to you. "just keep it in case of an emergency!" she winked knowingly "white means innocent, right? gotta ruin it sometime.'

inside sat a pristine white laced baby doll lingerie, complete with delicate lace and crotch-less bottoms. this is too much...right?

you snatched up the lingerie and began to change. neon sign be damned.

once you finished changing and touching up your makeup, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror. the lingerie fit you perfectly, the lace accentuating your curves in all the right places, you covered yourself with one of your long winter coats, preparing to shield yourself from the cold outside.

"here goes nothing" you breathed out, steeling your nerves.

you fixed your hair one more time out of nervous habit before you knocked on his door.

tap, tap, tap

the door swung open and you were greeted by the retreating back of your partner. "thank god you're here, baby" You heard him call out over his shoulder. tenya's broad back was hunched over, clearing his desk.

"someone's desperate" you grinned, quickly dropping your coat. nipples perked in excitement as you waited for him to turn around.

"yes! I've actually been trying to figure out this for my quirk evolution thesis and yours actual-" tenya finally turned around to see you in practically nothing, a furious blush on your face as you realized how severely you misunderstood the situation.

"oh my god"

"oh my god!" tenya's papers went flying as he turned to cover his eyes, but it was too late, the image of you in close to nothing was officially seared into his brain. "wh-what is happening?!"

"i'm so sorry!" you rushed to cover yourself with something-anything at this point. "i-just. your text!"

you looked over your shoulder and watched tenya pace around the room with both hands covering his eyes. but your gaze immediately fixed on the very noticeable bulge straining the front of his sweatpants.

you paused and debated your next move.

option 1: you apologize even more and quickly leave, praying to whatever God is out there that tenya won't break up with you and label you as a absolute perv

or...

option 2: see where this goes

you could tell tenya was trying to control his breathing, making the hard planes of his chest expand with every breath. you knew you could cum from riding the ridges of his abs alone.

option 2 it is

you slowly approached the blue haired man like one would approached a spooked animal "tenya..?" you reached out carefully, you hand cold against his flushed skin "tenya, look at me...please?"

"i-it's improper!"

"i want you to!" you finally cried out "i want you to look at me like this, ten. i-i want you to touch me!"

tenya's pacing stopped at your sudden declaration. he had always been taught to never look indecently at women, especially at their most vulnerable. he always keep you at arms length, not because he wanted to, but because he want you to be tainted by the impure thoughts that danced in his head whenever you were around. he wanted to do it right because you deserved only the best he could give.

he felt like absolute scum whenever you'd leave his dorm after a heavy make-out session, how quickly he'd rip off his bottoms and jerk off at the memory of you grinding yourself on his lap.

tenya never for a moment thought about how much you wanted him in return. he couldn't fathom it. why would the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen want to anything to do with him?

"tenya?" you called out softly this time, your hands coming up to meet his, slowly pulling them down to rest at your hips. you took his chin in your hand and turned his head so his carmine eyes met yours. "i want this, tenya iida. i want you."

"i've never done this before" he confessed, like it was something to be ashamed of.

"neither have i" you smiled, your hand gently caressing his cheek "but we can learn..together."

"together" he agreed as he rushed forward, your mouths meeting in a fury of pent up feelings and unabashed freedom.

he quickly scooped you up, the feeling of your plush thighs wrapped around him was enough to have him let out a soft moan. were you always this soft?

"th-the bed, ten. please" you murmured in between wet kisses. before you could blink, you felt yourself fall back onto his neatly made bed. the force made your legs fall open.

his eyes immediately zeroed in between your legs. oh my god she's wearing a crotchless outfit.

tenya had never been a religious man, he had always based himself with science and logic, but seeing your core bare for the first time? it was like seeing God for the first time. your folds were already glistening with arousal, practically dripping on his perfectly fitted sheets.

you began to squirm under tenya's focused gaze, you went to cover yourself, but quickly felt your hands be pinned above you.

"don't" he rasped, voice hoarse. "don't shield me from the most beautiful thing i've ever seen" he quickly let your hands go to push your thighs further apart. "c-can i?"

it felt like you couldn't nod fast enough as you watched tenya trace a hesitant finger down your folds.

it felt like you were being touched by a live wire, you felt white hot under his touch "ah!"

he quickly withdrew his hand "did i hurt you?"

"no! no! i promise, it felt good! i-i'm just not used to someone else touching me like that"

tenya sat up and adjusted his glasses "will you show me how-uh-"

you gave him a reassuring smlie "you want to see how i touch myself, ten?"

for the first time in a long time, tenya iida was at a loss for words, all he could do was nod tensely.

you scooted a bit up the bed so you could lean back comfortably as you let your legs fall back open. god, you've never done this for an audience before.

as if he could read your thoughts, tenya spoke gently "it's just me, my love. it's okay."

you closed your eyes briefly as your fingers dipped to your pussy, you let out a small noise of pleasure as you circle your clit slowly. you looked up and grinned.

tenya was making the same face he does when he was trying to study for his exams. what you couldn't see was the restraint he was practicing, all he wanted you to do was suffocate him between your thighs as he devoted his life to simply pleasuring you.

his eyes widened slightly as you slid two fingers inside, the lewd squelching noises your pussy was making almost made him come then and there.

"fuck it" he breathed out, you could barely register what was happening before tenya moved your hands out of the way and buried his face in your cunt.

there's absolutely no way he hasn't done this before, you can already feel your orgasm nearing and he hasn't even been down there for five minutes

he replaced your fingers with his and you let out a low whine at the stretch. jesus, if his fingers are this thick, what's the rest of him like??

"ten! fuuck, just like that!" you cry out as he sucks greedily on your clit. with a small curl of his fingers, he could feel the soft spongy spot inside. your hips bucked to fuck yourself back on his fingers, practically riding his face "i-i'm-oh my god. i'm gonna cum!"

tenya's fingers kept that steady space, hitting your g-spot over and over until the pleasure coiled inside you snapped. tenya greedily lapped up the evidence of your release to the point where you had to push his head away from you

tenya quickly leaned forward to kiss you, smearing your slick on both of your chins. "i need more, my love. i-please. please" the need to be inside you felt like it was burning him alive.

you barely nodded before he was shoving off his boxers and sweatpants. his cock was hard and leaking as he smacked against his toned stomach

tenya kneeled back onto the bed, effortlessly pulling you closer to him. in a small moment of hesitation his eyes met yours. the eyes he fell for the first time you met, the eyes that always twinkled with mirth and glee, the eyes that would would hide whenever you'd tear up at dog shelter tiktoks. when he looked at those eyes now in this moment, he was met with neither hesitation nor fear, but with such love and trust that it felt like it was knocking the wind out of him.

you nodded at him with a small smile, "it's okay" you reassured him.

he moved forward slowly, guiding his tip through the slick gathered at your entrance, slowly teasing himself against your folds "oh jesus"

"baby" you urged him, the urge to beg for more creeping up your throat

with a deep breath, tenya moved.

you gasped as your felt the thick tip of tenya's cock push into you. the immediate feeling of your pussy stretching to accommodate him made your eyes roll back. your moans became louder with every shallow movement.

sweat gathered at the temple's of tenya's face, making his hair stick to his skin. his breathing became shallow as he tried to restrain himself from plowing into you. he watched as your pussy sucked him in.

"i-it's s-so much!" you cried out "ten, please!"

"i know, baby. i know, it's okay, you're okay. you're doing so good, angel."

with a final push, he finally sheathed himself down to the hilt

"i'm inside you" you could hear him murmur, more to himself than anything. you couldn't help the small laugh that slipped out of you

"how's it feel, hero?"

"warm, god you're so warm. an-and wet." it feels like...everything."

you wanted to bask in this moment longer, but the ache between your legs became too strong to ignore, you gently bucked your hips against tenya's trying to signal your urge

"i-i don't know how long i'll last, my love"

in all honestly, you didn't know how much longer you were going to last either, the sensations flowing through you were overwhelming. you've masturbated before, but it was nothing compared to the real thing

"want more, ten..want you, please"

it was like a light switched behind tenya's eyes. he hooked your legs onto his shoulders, folding you into a tight mating press - you could practically feel your knees to your chin

"whatever you want, angel"

he picked up a pace you could only describe as brutal. this wasn't the meek tenya you knew, that man was replaced by something driven solely by instinct and sheer desire to claim what was his.

it felt like you were succumbing to some sort of delirium with every thrust of his hips. you couldn't tell if minutes or hours had past, all you knew was tenya iida.

tenya wasn't fairing any better, the feel of you around him was all-consuming, an addiction he knew he wasn't going to beat. he studied every anatomy book, read through every reddit forum on how to please a woman, he practically spent hours watching female directed porn for research. but theoretical practice couldn't prepare him for the real thing.

he reached down and pulled down the sheer lace covering your tits. the sight of them bouncing freely was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

"god, you-you're so beautiful. you feel like heaven"

you gasped as he bent down to suck on your chest, the sensation driving you over the edge.

you came a second time with a cry of his name on your lips and tenya wasn't far behind

his hips bucked against you with an rapid, irregular pace before stuttering out

"oh oh fuck!"

if you could've taken a picture of tenya's face as he came, you would have proudly displayed it in your living room. his usual stern frown had softened into a serene smile. his glasses fogged and askew

suddenly his bright red eyes widened "I came inside you. oh my god! I CAME INSIDE YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM."

your laughter broke through his mounting panic.

he was in the process of starting a full blown panic attack and you were laughing?!

"i'm sorry!" you tried to muffle your giggles "i'm on the pill, it's okay! i even have a plan b just in case" you rubbed soothing circles along his back.

it was like he fell in love with you all over again.

you paused for a moment, feeling something strange against you. you peered down to find tenya fully hard again against your thigh.

"you got turned on by that?!"

"it's hot how prepared you were, that's all!" the tips of his ears turned red at your teasing "but...i'd very much like to do that again, if you would."

"i definitely would. multiple times, in fact."

"oh thank god"

satoru froze mid-thrust, and you felt his cock twitch hard inside you. it made you whimper a little.

“eh?” he asked, cheeks flushed red.

your walls tightened around him on purpose, watched his lashes flutter. “the pillow thing. with who, ‘toru? who did you do this with first? did you lie to me?-“

his face went scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears even more. poor boy who swore you were his first hook up now was deemed a traitor.

“i—i didn’t—” he tried to hide against your shoulder but you grabbed his jaw, forced him to look at you.

“tell me.” you mumbled, pouting a little, moving your hips slightly.

he swallowed hard, cock pulsing so violently you felt it in your stomach, as he slowly began to rock his hips again, not fully on the rhythm of before.

“i… watched. a-a lot.” he stammered. then, he dropped his head on your shoulder as he began to lose his composture. “like. hours. a-and read- forums— damnit, re-reddit threads! reddit! descriptive ones! y-yeah, i-“

you giggled, arms around him again.

“you studied how to fuck me?”

he sounded like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“i didn’t want to be bad,” he mumbled. “n-not for you. i- i just— made notes… oh, fuck” he cursed softly when you pressed him tighter against you.

“you're so cute" you smiled against his lips, rolling your hips up to meet his next thrust. “i bet you got hard even thinking about this"

“i- y-yeah, i did" he nodded, blue eyes glassy with pleasure, "a-and ‘m not sorry,” he panted, starting to move again faster , like your teasing had flipped a switch. “i jus' wanted to be good for you- oh my god”

"are you close, 'toru?" you whispered, nails softly raking down his back as he kept thrusting into you. "yeah-" he nodded eagerly, breathing hard, "you're- just, ah, squeezin' me so good, shit, m'sorry, m'sorry-"

He loses rhythm for a second, hips jerking erratically before he finds it again—faster, deeper, pillow keeping you perfectly elevated so he can bully that spot over and over, making you moan alongside the creaks of the bed and the bedframe against the wall.

"sa-satoru!" you cried his name, back bowing, nails leaving red lines down his back as you clenched so tight he choked on a curse, feeling the first spasms of your orgasm.

“fuck—fuck, that’s it, that’s it—” he fucked you through it, pace turning sloppy, desperate. “i'm gonna come, baby, p-please-"

“yes—yes, inside, 'toru, please—”

his rhythm fractured; hips stuttering, thighs shaking, glasses sliding further down his sweaty nose. he looked and was wrecked. his hips kept jerking forward in tiny, helpless little thrusts like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, filling you up while he gasped your name over and over like a prayer.

“shit—shit, ‘m sorry—‘m still—still coming—”

you threaded your fingers through his white hair, tugging gently until he lifted his face. his glasses were completely fogged now. you kissed him slow and sweet, tasting salt and desperation on his tongue.

he whimpered into your mouth when you deliberately fluttered your walls around his oversensitive length.

“f-fuck—wait—wait, baby, ‘s too much—” he whined, but didn’t pull out. if anything, he sank a little deeper, like he couldn’t bear to leave.

you smiled against his lips. “you studied… just for me?”

every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.

he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.

then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.

nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.

your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over he’s not surprised. “sorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what i’m doing with these things.” he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.

you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.

you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanami’s jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighbor’s collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.

“thank you so much for coming,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.

nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.

you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. “it just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it but…” your words trail off when he glances up.

his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.

fuck.

he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.

“let me see,” he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.

he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.

every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.

he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanami’s eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.

he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.

he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.

“is it the cable?” you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.

his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.

“try it now,” he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.

“it works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.” you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.

he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.

he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.

nanami’s voice comes out rougher than he means. “you should get a better router. this one is outdated.” it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.

the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.

he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.

you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.

your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.

“so maybe you could stay and i could make you some te–” your proposal is short lived.

“i’ve fixed what you’ve called me to help for. goodnight.” his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.

nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.

and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications ‘ding-ing’ every seconds.

+

a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.

nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.

it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.

it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.

he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.

you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.

each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite “good morning, nanami-san” you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people… your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.

he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.

tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.

the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.

nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.

you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something… private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. it’s as if last week was repeating itself.

“the router again,” you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. “it keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but… i think i need your help again.”

he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.

he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.

you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.

the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.

nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.

he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. he’s sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.

“the router is working fine,” he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. “you know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?”

you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.

your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.

the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanami’s right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.

his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. “what are you doing?” he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.

you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanami’s breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.

he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. “don’t.” but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.

you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.

nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.

he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. “you’re a very young girl…” he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.

you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. “i’m legal.”

“barely,” he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. “you’re barely twenty-something. i’m more than twice your age. this… this is not appropriate.”

you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. “and yet you’re standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,” you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. “you’ve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.”

caught him red handed. fuck you.

he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. “you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. “i’m not some young man who can just… give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who can’t keep his eyes off you.”

the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanami’s breath hitches sharply. “then why does it feel like you’ve been thinking about this as much as i have?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “why do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?”

his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.

“because i do,” he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. “i want to. more than i should. but you’re young. barely out of college. and i’m… this.” he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. “a tired man who should know better.”

you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. “then stop fighting it for one night,” you whisper. “just let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. i’ve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.”

the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.

he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.

nanami’s hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.

he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.

his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.

his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.

he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.

the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.

nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.

he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.

he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. “nanami…plea– fuck, it’s too much,” you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.

he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. “look at how well you take them,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.

the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.

he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.

only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.

he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.

nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.

when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.

your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.

he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.

you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.

the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.

“breathe,” he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.

he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.

you’re pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.

nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.

his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.

the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.

he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.

“too big for you?” he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.

your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.

his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.

now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.

he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.

you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.

nanami’s rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.

but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.

with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.

your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.

he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.

the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.

your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanami’s eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, “do that again and i’ll fucking hurt you good.”

the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.

nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.

“i know, baby, i know,” he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. “you can take it. just let it happen.” your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.

nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.

his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.

the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.

nanami’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.

for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.

nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.

your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.

finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.

a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.

the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.

he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.

“this…” his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. “this can’t happen again.”

the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.

he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.

“get some rest,” he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. “and… call the building manager about the router next time.”

the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.

You don't hesitate, tossing your bag to your feet and climbing over the console until both of your thighs are on either side of him and your pussy is pressing against the print of his hard cock.

The windows were tinted dark. Nobody could see. Nobody would know.

"You talk to him about chemistry?"

He twists your necklace before he starts to unbutton your cardigan, fingers brushing against your skin. You're too stupefied to talk as he pushes the fabric off your shoulders, his hand sneaking under your t-shirt to unsnap your bra and pull it off.

"Let's talk about biology instead."

He pushes your shirt up and lowers his mouth to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You toss your head back and let out a loud moan, fingers finding his hair to hold onto and gripping tight.

"You're s-so needy when you get j-jealous." You whimper, grinding against his jeans, skirt rising up your hips, body shivering when he bit down gently.

"Hmm, you like that?" He pulls back, his lips wet as he smirks at you.

You nod shyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling deeper onto his lap.

He slid his hand up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher until he found the damp heat between your legs. Your panties were soaked and he grins, an annoyingly cocky grin that made you want to slap him and ride him at the same time.

“This f'me? Or were you thinking about his big brain?” He pressed two fingers against your clit through the thin fabric, rubbing slow circles.

“You!” You gasp, chest heaving. “Always you. He’s nothing—ah!”

He shoved your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside your dripping cunt, curling them just right. Your hips bucked as you cried out, and he used his other hand to pin you down.

“Say it again.”

“You, Gojo. Only you.”

“That’s my good girl.” He finger fucks you hard, the wet sound obscene in the quiet car, your juices dripping down his fingers while kisses you to shut you up.

The way your pussy was clenching around Gojo's fingers had him leaking pre and staining his boxers. He felt like he was going to burst if he didn't fuck you soon.

He can feel you shaking, getting closer but before you can cum, he's pulling his fingers out of you and into his mouth, ignoring the shocked look on your face. His tongue swirls around his fingers, licking them clean and pulling off with a pop.

"Lift your hips."

When he smacks the side of your ass, you yelp but do as he says, lifting high enough for him to unzip his jeans and pull them down with his boxers.

He strokes his hard cock once, twice, watching you watch him and it has his own cheeks heating. Your glasses were crooked, lips swollen and red from his kisses and his self control snapped.

He didn’t tease, growing annoyed again when an image pops up of you smiling at that fucking loser. He grips your hip with one hand and uses the other to line himself up with your entrance. He uses his cock to push your panties aside and with one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside of you to the hilt.

"Satoru! Oh fuuck."

Gojo gives you a minute to adjust to his size, hand rubbing up and down your spine in a soothing manner while you whine against his neck. Slowly, he lifts your hips, teeth grinding from the grip your pussy has on his cock, and slams you back down.

He loves the way you're crying out and it only motivates him to go faster, his own hips rising to meet yours. Fuck, you were so wet and warm and he had to actively fight back his moans.

He knows you love when he's vocal but right now he was punishing you, so he bit his lip and fucked you harder.

"Who do you belong to?” he asked again, his voice cracking when you clench around him.

"Y-you. I'm sorry Toru, I'll n-never talk to him again."

He chuckles, pulling your mouth down to his and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. Your lipgloss tastes like strawberries, so sweet he can't help but nibble on it a little.

"Such an obedient girl." He fucks you faster, his abdomen wet and sticky with your arousal, your ass smacking against his thighs whenever your bodies meet.

When Gojo presses his thumb against your clit and flicks it, the knot in your stomach tightens harder, twisting as you get closer to your high.

"Haaah, m'gonna cum Toru!"

He doesn't stop, just grunts and rubs you faster until you're spilling over the edge, body glitching as you buck wildy against him, head dropping to his neck as your orgasm rocks your world.

Your breath is hot against Gojo's neck and his balls swell before he's busting a fat nut inside of you, hot ropes of gooey cum painting your walls in his DNA.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Despite his best efforts he can't stop the groans that escape his lips, deep and long, his hands squeezing your thighs as he twitches and empties himself inside of you.

Gojo's hips stutter as he pushes the last of his orgasm out, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you tight. Maybe you should keep talking to other guys so he can relive this moment over and over.

You grunt when his cock slips out, his cum instantly oozing out but he uses two fingers to rub at your clit, moving to your hole and pushing it back inside. He keeps them snug in your cunt, cocking jumping back to life as he uses his other hand to pull your lips to his.

The kiss is filthy, his tongue swirling against yours as you swap spit. His stomach flutters when you grind against his hand, his nerdy little slut.

When Gojo pulls back, he fixes your glasses and lifts your hips again, lining his once again, hard cock back up with your entrance and slowly pulling you down.

"Now what did we learn?" He asks once he's buried deep, his balls pushing against your ass.

"T-that, huuhh, that I shouldn't laugh at other g-guys jokes."

He kisses you again before pushing his seat back until he was almost laying down, his hands holding onto your waist.

"Atta girl. Now ride me until I tell you to stop."

❦ lisa's note: thanks for this request, it was fun to write! can you tell I love car sex? anyways something quick while I work on the arrangement ♡

gojo sluts: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @pinkpantherrrrss @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper @jisojoriver @lilactaro @mimicosmos8 @billiondollarworth @ayla111 @lesyeuxdeginana @miizuzu @vivillow @biggkayyss @darkcatsxs @suguru4life @majemki @amayaaaxx @rachelily @rae06-12

perm tags: @icebearcucumber @tojisfavoritegun @writingintheskin @saturneni @sakurasweetiesworld-blog @sleeeepybee @locallyclementine @butterbeanandsparkleface @butterbeanandsparkleface @writtenbyjil @sukunas-one-n-only-peach @alliesheartsss @kookiieeswirl @mrskamikazekaito @blogster-b33 @stvsgsb @meowguumi @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @mutsu422 @love-d-luxe @xojoln @stillhollow-kindofthere @srslyoceans

He saw the spread of you, the softness, the wet shine where embarrassment and heat had already started betraying you. His cock reacted before his brain caught up, hardening so fast beneath his jeans that he had to shift his stance.

His thoughts about you had never been clean, not once, no matter how many times he’d told himself you were off limits. Now you were right in front of him like every filthy idea he’d ever swallowed down had crawled out and sat pretty between your thighs.

“What the hell are you doin’?” he asked, voice low and rough, but his eyes didn’t leave you. You should’ve snapped your legs shut quicker, should’ve screamed at him like this was horrifying, should’ve thrown the razor at his head for walking in without knocking.

Instead, your thighs only shifted halfway together before hesitation caught you because the way he looked at you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t pretend was fear. “Ben,” you breathed, clutching the razor like it could save you from your own body. “Get out.”

The words came out too soft to be serious, too breathless to mean anything close to rejection, and both of you knew it the second they left your mouth.

Ben’s mouth twitched like he heard the lie in them immediately. “Yeah?” he said, stepping farther into the bathroom instead of leaving. “That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted, but no answer came out. His gaze dropped again, openly this time, shameless in a way that made your pulse hammer. The bathroom suddenly felt too small, too warm, too full of him and the heavy drag of his attention across your bare skin.

Ben pushed the door shut behind him with one hand, the quiet click of the latch making your whole body tense. He didn’t lock it, but he didn’t need to for the sound to feel final. “Put the damn razor down,” he said. It wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakably a command. Your fingers tightened around the handle once before loosening, the razor settling against the counter beside you with a tiny plastic tap.

Ben’s eyes followed the movement, then dragged back down to your lap. He looked at the shaving cream on your thigh, the soft hair you’d been about to remove, and the exposed heat of your pussy with an expression that bordered on offended.

“You were gonna shave all that off?” he asked, voice dropping lower. Your face burned so badly you thought you might actually pass out from it.

“I was going to,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed and failing horribly. Ben’s jaw ticked, and his cock throbbed hard in his jeans as he stared at the part of you he had no business wanting this much.

“Don’t,” he said flatly. You blinked at him, stunned by how serious he sounded. “Excuse me?” Ben took one slow step closer, boots heavy against the tile, eyes dark and unashamed. “I said don’t,” he repeated, like you were testing his patience on purpose. “Hair adds personality.”

The words were so obscene in his mouth that your pussy clenched before you could stop it. Ben saw the tiny twitch of your thighs, saw the way your stomach pulled tight, and his expression sharpened with satisfaction.

“Well, goddamn,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You liked that.” Your breath caught hard enough to make your chest rise visibly. “You can’t just say things like that,” you whispered. Ben gave a low, humourless laugh. “Honey, I can say a hell of a lot worse than that.”

You hated how badly you wanted him to. You hated how your body had gone hot all over, how the cool air against your exposed pussy made you feel even more aware of how open you were under his gaze. You hated that he hadn’t touched you once and yet you could already feel wetness gathering, slick and humiliating, making you ache.

Ben watched it happen with the kind of attention that made you feel stripped past naked, like he could see every thought you’d ever had about him. He looked older, rougher, meaner than any fantasy you’d let yourself have, broad and smug and so full of himself it should’ve disgusted you. Instead, it made your thighs tremble.

“You always this mouthy when you’re sittin’ there with your pussy out?” he asked. “Or is that just for me?” Your breath stuttered. “Ben,” you warned, but it came out weak and needy. His eyes lifted to yours, and the amusement there was cruel enough to make your stomach drop. “Don’t use that tone unless you’re askin’ me to fix it.”

The worst part was that you had imagined him fixing it too many times to count. You had thought about Ben when he leaned over you in the kitchen to grab something from a high cabinet, smelling like whiskey, smoke, and expensive cologne.

You had thought about him when his hand brushed your lower back as he moved past you at family cookouts, careless and brief, but enough to make you throb for hours afterward. You had thought about the rough sound of his voice saying your name, thought about him catching you staring, thought about him knowing exactly what you wanted before you had to admit it.

At night, alone in your room, you’d dragged your dildo from the drawer with shaking fingers and pushed it between your thighs while imagining it was him. You’d ridden it slowly at first, knees planted in the mattress, one hand braced against the headboard while the other rubbed messy circles over your clit.

You’d pictured Ben beneath you, big hands gripping your hips, mouth twisted into something mean as he watched you struggle to take him. Sometimes you’d bounced so desperately that the toy slipped against that sensitive spot inside you again and again until your legs shook.

Sometimes you’d buried your face in your pillow and moaned his name into the fabric, terrified someone might hear and secretly wanting them to. More than once, you’d come with Ben’s name on your tongue, your pussy clenching around silicone while your brain filled in the weight, heat, and cruelty of him instead.

Sometimes, when the fantasy got too filthy to stop, you’d whispered Daddy into your pillow and pretended it was his hand in your hair forcing you to say it louder.

Ben didn’t know the details, but he knew enough from the look on your face. He saw recognition flicker there, saw guilt, saw the exact kind of shame that only came from being caught wanting something you’d already touched yourself to.

His cock pressed painfully against his zipper now, thick and hard, the ache making his patience feel thinner by the second. He had tried not to think about you like this because your father was his friend and because there were lines even he understood he wasn’t supposed to cross. But he’d thought about you anyway.

He’d thought about your mouth when you laughed too hard at his jokes, your legs when you crossed them on the couch, your ass in those tiny shorts you wore around the house like you didn’t know what you were doing. He’d thought about bending you over the kitchen counter while everyone else was outside, about pressing a hand over your mouth and making you stay quiet.

He’d thought about how pretty you’d look crying from too much pleasure, how quickly your attitude would disappear once he got his hands on you. Seeing you now, wet and exposed and pretending you weren’t leaning toward him, snapped something ugly and hungry inside him.

“You’ve thought about this,” he said, voice quiet and dangerous. Your eyes widened. Ben smiled without warmth. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

You swallowed hard, but the denial wouldn’t come. It sat uselessly behind your teeth while his gaze pinned you in place. “I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to.” Ben moved closer again until his knees nearly brushed yours, his shadow falling over you in the cramped bathroom. “Your body’s runnin’ its mouth just fine.” Your thighs pressed together on instinct, but the movement only dragged your wet folds against each other and pulled a tiny sound from your throat.

Ben’s eyes dropped instantly. “There it is,” he said, mean satisfaction cutting through his voice. “You’re wet.” Your face burned so violently you had to look away. He reached down and caught your chin, fingers firm enough to stop you from hiding but not painful.

“No,” he said. “You don’t get shy after sittin’ here like this.” Your lashes fluttered, breath trembling under his thumb. “I didn’t know you were coming in.” Ben leaned closer, his voice dragging rough against your skin. “And now that I am?”

The question hung between you, filthy and heavy. You should’ve said something smart, something sharp, something that made you feel less exposed. Instead, your gaze dropped to the front of his jeans. The shape of him was impossible to miss now, hard and thick behind denim, straining like the sight of you had ruined every bit of control he thought he had.

Ben noticed you looking and gave a low laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s your fault.” Your lips parted softly, heat blooming through your stomach at the accusation. “Mine?”

“You’re sittin’ there with your legs open and that pretty little cunt out, and you’re askin’ if it’s yours?” His fingers tightened slightly at your jaw when you shivered. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

A shaky breath escaped you, and your pussy clenched again under the weight of his words. Ben watched your reaction like it fed him. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You really do like it mean.”

You did, and that was the problem. Your old partners had always tried to be sweet, careful, soft in ways that made you feel restless instead of wanted. You’d wanted rough hands and dirty words and someone who didn’t ask you five times if every breath was okay when your body was already begging.

You’d wanted someone who could look at you and know you needed to be handled. Ben looked like exactly that kind of man. He looked like the kind of man who would take your attitude apart one cruel sentence at a time and enjoy every second of it. He looked like the kind of man who would call you pretty and pathetic in the same breath.

Your stomach tightened as his thumb dragged slowly along your lower lip, and you had to fight the urge to open your mouth for him. “What are you thinkin’ about?” he asked. You shook your head faintly, cheeks blazing. Ben’s expression hardened with impatience. “Use your words.”

“I’ve thought about you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. Ben went very still. The room seemed to shrink around both of you, the hum of the bathroom light suddenly louder overhead. His eyes darkened in a way that made your pulse stumble. “Yeah?” he asked. “How?”

Your fingers curled against your bare thigh, nails pressing tiny crescents into your skin. “At night,” you whispered, voice shaking. “When I’m alone.” Ben’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, and his cock jerked visibly in his jeans.

“Doin’ what?” Your throat worked around a swallow. “Riding my toy.” His nostrils flared, and the grip on your chin turned more possessive. “Moanin’ my name?”

Your silence answered before you could. Ben’s laugh was low, nasty, and pleased. “Course you were.” The humiliation of it made your eyes squeeze shut, but he shook your chin once, forcing your attention back to him. “Eyes open.”

You obeyed instantly, and the satisfaction on his face made you ache harder. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me how you do it.” Your heart pounded so hard you could feel it between your thighs. “I sit on it,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “Slow at first.”

Ben’s gaze dropped to your pussy like he could already see it happening. “Then?” “Then I move faster,” you breathed, the confession pulling heat through your whole body.

“I ride it until I can’t keep quiet.” Ben’s jaw tightened again, hunger turning the line of his mouth cruel. “And you say my name while you’re fuckin’ yourself on it?”

“Yes,” you whispered, and the word came out like surrender. Ben’s breath left him in a rough exhale. His hand fell from your chin, but only so he could brace it against the counter beside you, caging you in without touching anywhere else yet.

You could smell him now, smoke and whiskey and something masculine enough to make your head swim. “Filthy girl,” he said, and the insult landed like praise. Your pussy pulsed openly, wetness slicking between your folds while the shaving cream melted farther down your thigh.

Ben’s eyes tracked everything, taking in the swollen shape of you, the soft hair framing your pussy, the shine of slick gathering where your body had given you away. “You were gonna shave this,” he said, almost offended again.

“This pretty little mess.” Your breath hitched as his knuckles brushed the inside of your knee, not quite touching where you needed him. “Don’t,” he said again, rougher this time. “I like it like this.” Your thighs trembled apart another inch. Ben saw it and smiled. “Good girl.”

The praise made you nearly dizzy. It was worse because it came from him, from Ben, from the man you’d imagined being cruel enough to make you cry and pleased enough to kiss the tears afterward. He crouched slowly in front of you now, still too close, still not touching your pussy, his eyes level with what he had walked in on.

His cock was so hard it looked painful, straining against denim while he balanced one forearm on his knee. “Spread your legs,” he said. You hesitated for half a second, not because you didn’t want to, but because the embarrassment was almost too much to survive. His eyes flicked back up to yours.

“Don’t make me ask twice.” Your knees parted wider, slow and shaky, exposing yourself fully beneath his gaze. Ben inhaled through his nose, controlled but heavy. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Look at you.” Your pussy clenched around nothing as he stared, swollen and slick and framed by the hair he’d just ordered you not to remove. He noticed every bit of it. “Bet your toy doesn’t look at you like this.”

“No,” you breathed before you could stop yourself. Ben’s smile sharpened. “No, what?” Your stomach twisted because you knew what he wanted. “No, Ben.”

His eyes flashed at the sound of his name from your mouth in that tone, breathy and obedient and already ruined. “There she is,” he said. “That’s the voice you use when you’re ridin’ that dildo thinkin’ about me, isn’t it?”

Your hands gripped the edge of the toilet seat, and you nodded faintly. “Say it.” “Yes,” you whispered. “I think about you when I ride it.” Ben’s cock jerked again, and this time he didn’t even try to hide the way he adjusted himself roughly through his jeans.

“You think about me fillin’ you up instead?” he asked, mean and direct. Your body answered with a visible shiver. His gaze dropped, and his voice went darker. “Dirty little thing.”

The bathroom felt unbearably hot now, the mirror faintly fogged from the shower you’d taken before deciding to shave. You were still exposed under the ugly overhead light, one leg braced awkwardly near the tub, shaving cream drying tacky on your thigh.

Ben looked at you like none of it mattered, like the mess only made him want you more. His eyes were hungry, but not gentle. There was nothing soft in the way he studied you, nothing hesitant in the way his attention dragged over your pussy and made you feel owned before he ever laid a hand there.

“You want me to leave?” he asked suddenly. Your pulse jumped. He wasn’t asking because he wanted to leave. He was asking because he wanted to hear you choose the opposite. You stared at him, lips parted, face flushed so hot it hurt. “No,” you whispered. Ben’s smile turned wicked. “That’s what I thought.”

He stood again slowly, towering over you in the little bathroom until your breathing turned shallow. One big hand came to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair just enough to pull your head back and force your eyes up to his.

The grip wasn’t gentle, and the shock of it made your pussy clench hard. Ben’s gaze narrowed. “You like being handled too,” he said. It wasn’t a question. You made a small sound, something between a whimper and a confession, and his mouth twisted with approval.

“All this time walkin’ around this house actin’ sweet,” he muttered. “Meanwhile you’re upstairs bouncin’ on a toy moanin’ my name.” Your face burned again, but his hand in your hair kept you from ducking away.

“Does your dad know what a filthy mouth you’ve got when nobody’s listenin’?” You shook your head quickly. Ben leaned down until his lips hovered close to your ear. “Good. Because that’s mine now.”

The words punched through you, sharp and wrong and so hot you nearly whimpered out loud. Ben pulled back just enough to look at your face, and whatever he saw there made his expression go even darker. “You want mean?” he asked quietly. “You want me not to hold back?”

Your body trembled under the question, and for once you didn’t try to pretend otherwise. “Yes,” you whispered. His grip in your hair tightened. “Then quit pretendin’ you’re embarrassed.” You nodded, but he clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “Words.”

“I want you mean,” you breathed. “I want you to not hold back.” Ben’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then to your open thighs, then back up again. Your lips trembled before the last word slipped out soft and needy.

“Daddy.” Ben went completely still for half a second, and then his smile turned downright cruel. “Careful, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Daddy’s real good at givin’ spoiled girls exactly what they ask for.”

Ben’s hand stayed buried in your hair for another second, keeping your head tipped back while he looked down at you like he was deciding exactly how much trouble you’d earned. “Daddy,” he repeated, voice low and rough, the word sounding filthy in his mouth, like it had dragged every last decent thought out of the room with it.

His eyes dropped again between your thighs, and his expression hardened the second he saw the razor still sitting on the counter beside you. “All that pretty hair,” he muttered, almost disgusted, “and you were gonna scrape it off like it didn’t belong there.”

His hand left your hair only so he could grip your thigh and spread you open wider, rough enough to make your breath jump. You whimpered immediately, fingers tightening against the edge of the toilet seat while your pussy clenched under his stare. Ben saw it and gave a short, mean laugh. “Look at that. She knows she did somethin’ wrong.”

Before you could answer, his palm came down sharply against your pussy.

The sound cracked through the bathroom, wet and obscene, and your whole body jerked from the sting. Pleasure burst hot and sudden beneath the pain, your thighs trying to snap shut before Ben caught one and shoved it open again.

“Uh-uh,” he said, voice hard. “You don’t get to hide now.” Your mouth fell open around a shaky moan, face burning because the slap should’ve shocked you more than it turned you on. Ben’s eyes darkened at the sound, and the front of his jeans strained harder as he stared down at you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, palming himself roughly through the denim with one hand while the other kept your legs spread. “Knew you were a dirty little thing, but this?” His palm landed against your pussy again, hard enough to make your hips buck off the seat. “This is fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ben,” you moaned, the name slipping out before you could stop it.

His face changed immediately.

Not anger, exactly, but something meaner and more possessive, like you’d disappointed him on purpose just to see what he’d do about it. “What’d you call me?” he asked softly. Your breath hitched, eyes wide, thighs trembling around the ache he’d slapped into you.

“Ben,” you whispered again, weaker this time, and the second it left your mouth, his hand cracked sharply across your face. Not enough to hurt badly, not enough to scare you, but enough to turn your head and leave your cheek stinging hot beneath the bathroom light.

The shock punched a broken sound out of you, but it wasn’t fear. It was a moan, loud and helpless, your pussy clenching so hard that Ben saw it happen. His jaw tightened like the sight had nearly ruined him. “Try again,” he said.

“Daddy,” you whimpered instantly.

Ben’s hand flexed against his jeans, rubbing the hard shape of his cock through the fabric while his mouth twisted into a cruel little smile. “There she is.” Your cheek burned where he’d slapped you, heat blooming under your skin while your whole body seemed to pulse with the humiliation of how badly you’d liked it.

He watched your face for a beat, making sure you were still with him, still wanting it, and the way your thighs stayed spread for him answered before your mouth could.

“You’re gonna learn real quick,” he said, voice dropping into that rough, old-fashioned arrogance that made your stomach twist, “that when Daddy tells you to keep somethin’ pretty, you don’t go reachin’ for a damn razor.”

His fingers slid down between your thighs then, not gentle, not giving you softness after the sting. He pinched your clit between two fingers, sharp and sudden, and your body jolted so hard your heel scraped against the bathtub. “Oh my god,” you gasped, grabbing at his wrist even though you didn’t pull him away.

Ben clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed by the way you were falling apart already. “No, no. Don’t grab at me like you’re not spread open beggin’ for worse.” His fingers pinched again, controlled and cruel, enough to make your hips twitch up into his hand while your eyes watered from the intensity.

He palmed himself harder through his jeans as he watched you, breath coming heavier now, his own restraint fraying in the sharp line of his jaw. “Look at you,” he said, dragging his gaze over your pussy, swollen and wet and framed by the hair he’d decided belonged there. “Gettin’ all messy because I punished this pretty cunt for misbehavin’.”

Your face went hotter, but you couldn’t stop the needy little sounds spilling from you every time his fingers pressed and released. He noticed each one. He fed off them. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Cry about it a little. Makes you prettier.”

“Daddy,” you moaned again, louder this time, the word shaking out of you like a confession.

Ben’s expression went hungry.

He leaned closer, broad body crowding yours until all you could smell was smoke, whiskey, and him. His thumb brushed over your stinging cheek with a mockery of tenderness, almost sweet if his other hand wasn’t still between your thighs, keeping you trembling and exposed.

“Now you remember,” he murmured. “Had to slap some manners into you, huh?” Your lashes fluttered, and you nodded before you could stop yourself. That made him groan under his breath, rough and pleased, his hand rubbing over his cock through his jeans with less patience now.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, voice thick with lust. “You’re gonna be a real problem for me.” Then his eyes dropped once more to your pussy, and his mouth curved into something wicked. “But first, we’re gonna make damn sure you don’t forget who told you not to shave.”

Ben’s smile stayed cruel for one more second before he finally stood to his full height, towering over you in the cramped bathroom like he owned the damn place. His hand dropped from your hair, but the loss of contact didn’t make you feel free. If anything, it made you feel more exposed because his eyes kept you pinned harder than his grip ever could.

The bathroom door was still unlocked behind him, not even fully latched right because he’d shoved it closed in a hurry. Anyone in the house could’ve walked past and heard the low scrape of his breathing, the tiny desperate sounds you kept failing to swallow, or the sharp metallic clink when Ben touched his belt.

He didn’t care. Not even a little. He glanced toward the door once, almost lazily, then back at you like the risk only made him meaner. “Ain’t gonna save you by lookin’ at it,” he said, voice rough and smug. “Door’s right there, sweetheart.”

Your thighs trembled around the ache still pulsing between them. Ben’s hand moved to the buckle at his waist, and he looked down at you with that old-fashioned arrogance that made your stomach twist. “Now be useful and undo it.”

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, sitting there with your pussy still exposed and your cheek still warm from his hand. Ben didn’t move closer at first, just waited with his head tilted slightly, like patience was a punishment of its own.

The leather belt sat heavy around his waist, dark and worn, the buckle catching the harsh bathroom light. You reached for it with shaky fingers, and his eyes dropped to your hands immediately. “Look at you,” he muttered, almost amused. “Shakin’ already.”

“I’m not,” you whispered, but the lie sounded pathetic even to you. Ben gave a low laugh that made your pussy clench again. “Sure you aren’t.” Your fingertips brushed the front of his jeans, and you felt him hard beneath the denim, thick and straining, hot even through the fabric.

He hissed softly through his teeth when you touched him, jaw tightening like he hated giving you the satisfaction. “Careful,” he said. “You wanted Daddy mean, don’t go actin’ delicate now.”

You swallowed hard and worked the belt open, the metal buckle clicking loudly in the quiet bathroom. The sound made your pulse jump because it felt too real, too close, too far past fantasy to pretend you hadn’t wanted this exact moment. Ben watched you unthread the leather with dark, greedy eyes, his chest rising slower now like he was forcing himself not to rush.

The belt slipped loose in your hands, heavy and warm from his body, and he let it hang there for a second just to watch you stare. “Jeans,” he ordered. Your fingers moved to the button, clumsy from nerves, and he clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you ride a damn toy moanin’ my name but can’t work a zipper?” Heat flooded your face, but the shame only made your body react harder. You popped the button open, then dragged the zipper down slowly.

Ben’s cock strained immediately against the fabric beneath, the shape of him obscene and impossible to ignore. “That’s it,” he said, voice dipping. “There’s the smart girl.”

He shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, and the sight of him made every thought in your head scatter. Ben was thick, heavy, and flushed dark at the head, the skin pulled tight and hot from how long he’d been hard watching you.

He wasn’t neat or pretty in some soft way. He looked obscene, masculine, and demanding, the kind of cock that made your stomach dip before you even touched it. A vein ran along the underside, standing out more when his hand wrapped around the base and stroked once for his own relief.

Pre-cum already glistened at the tip, gathering slowly before slipping down the swollen head. Your lips parted before you could stop yourself. Ben saw it and smiled like he’d caught you stealing. “Yeah,” he murmured.

“That’s what I thought.” He tapped the head of his cock against your lower lip, smearing the first wet streak across your mouth. “Been thinkin’ about this too, haven’t you?” You nodded before pride could stop you. “Say it.”

“I’ve thought about it,” you whispered, voice shaking so badly it barely sounded like you. Ben’s hand moved to your jaw, thumb pressing into one side while his fingers held the other. “About what?” he asked, because of course he wanted to make you say it. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, then back up to his face.

“About your cock,” you breathed. Ben groaned under his breath, a low, filthy sound that made his grip tighten. “Good girl.” The praise hit you hard enough to make your thighs squeeze together. His gaze dropped and caught the movement, and his mouth curled with satisfaction.

“Still tryin’ to rub that needy little cunt together?” he asked. “Greedy thing.” You whimpered, and he dragged the wet tip of his cock across your cheek before you could answer. “Mouth open.”

You obeyed instantly, lips parting around a shaky breath. Ben didn’t let you take him yet. Instead, he dragged his cock slowly across your face, smearing pre-cum over your lips, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth in a hot slick line.

The humiliation of it made your eyes flutter, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. You wanted him too badly, wanted the weight of him, the taste of him, the proof that he’d stopped pretending he didn’t want you back.

Ben watched your face the whole time, his expression cruel and fascinated, like he wanted to memorize exactly how ruined you looked before he even got inside your mouth.

“Look at that,” he muttered. “Pretty face made a mess already.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your lower lip again, smearing more pre-cum there until your mouth felt wet and swollen. “Tongue out,” he said. You stuck your tongue out immediately, and his eyes darkened. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Ben leaned over you, keeping one hand on his cock while the other gripped the counter beside your head. For a second, you thought he was just going to push inside your mouth. Then he spat directly onto your tongue. The wet heat of it landed heavy and humiliating, and your whole body shivered violently.

Ben smiled like the reaction pleased him. “Don’t swallow,” he said. Your tongue stayed out, trembling slightly, the spit shining there beneath the ugly bathroom light. He dragged the tip of his cock through it slowly, smearing his spit and pre-cum together over your tongue in a slick, filthy glide.

Your eyes watered from how badly you wanted him to stop teasing and just use your mouth already. Ben saw the desperation immediately. “Christ,” he said, voice rougher now. “You really are made for this.” He rubbed himself across your tongue again, hips pushing forward just enough to make your throat tighten in anticipation. “Daddy’s gonna ruin that mouth.”

The first push inside was slow enough to make you feel every inch. Ben’s cock stretched your lips wide, heavy on your tongue, the taste of pre-cum, spit, and warm skin filling your mouth all at once. Your hands went to his thighs automatically, gripping the denim bunched low around them for balance. He hissed sharply when your lips sealed around him.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice already darker. “Knew you’d look good with a mouthful of cock.” You made a soft sound around him, and the vibration dragged a rough groan from his chest. His fingers threaded into your hair, not gently, not sweetly, but with control that made your scalp sting in the best way.

“Don’t use teeth,” he warned. “Unless you want me to get real mean.” Your eyes flicked up to his. He smiled down at you. “That’s what I thought.”

You tried to start slow, lips sliding carefully along his length while your tongue pressed against the underside. Ben let you for maybe three strokes. Then his grip tightened in your hair, and he pulled you forward until the head of his cock pushed deeper against your tongue. “No,” he said flatly. “Not like that.”

Your breath stuttered through your nose as he held you there, the weight of him filling your mouth more completely now. “You don’t get to tease after what you almost did to that pretty bush.” He dragged you back slowly by the hair, then pushed in again, deeper this time.

Your throat fluttered around him, and his jaw tightened hard. “Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s better.” He looked down at you with blown pupils and a cruel little twist to his mouth. “Open up.”

You forced your jaw looser, eyes watering as Ben pushed farther in. He watched every tiny reaction, every blink, every shaky inhale through your nose, every way your hands tightened on his thighs. His cock was thick enough that your lips burned around him, and the stretch made your head feel light. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. “Take it.”

He pulled out just enough for air to rush into your lungs, then pushed back in before you could recover fully. The rhythm made your body jolt, and your pussy pulsed wetly between your thighs. You were painfully aware of it, of how exposed you still were, of the soft hair Ben had forbidden you to shave framing the slick mess your body had become.

He was aware too. His eyes dropped once toward your open thighs, and he actually groaned at the sight. “Still drippin’,” he muttered. “All because Daddy’s using your mouth.”

The words made you moan around him, and Ben’s grip in your hair went brutal for half a second. “Yeah?” he asked, breath roughening. “You like hearin’ that?” You nodded as best you could with his cock in your mouth, and he gave a short, nasty laugh. “Course you do.”

He started moving his hips then, shallow at first, fucking into your mouth with controlled little thrusts that made your eyes water more with each one. The sound was obscene, wet and muffled and trapped in the small bathroom. Your cheeks hollowed instinctively, and Ben cursed beneath his breath.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His free hand came down to your cheek, thumb smearing the pre-cum already drying there. “Look at you.” He pushed deeper suddenly, making you gag softly around him. “That’s it. Let me hear it.”

The gag made him throb against your tongue. You felt it and whimpered, humiliation and arousal twisting together so tightly you couldn’t separate them anymore. Ben’s breath came heavier, his stomach tightening beneath his shirt each time your throat tried to take him. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t slow out of sweetness. He just watched you with cruel hunger, fingers locked in your hair while he used the grip to set the pace.

“You wanted this,” he said, voice low and harsh. “Don’t forget that.” Your nails dug into his thighs, and he looked pleased by the desperation. “Been upstairs ridin’ that toy thinkin’ about me, right?” He thrust again, rougher this time, making your throat flutter.

“Now you’ve got the real thing, and you’re still actin’ surprised.” A tear slipped down your cheek. Ben wiped it with his thumb, then smeared it into the pre-cum across your skin. “Pretty when you cry.”

Your body went hot and weak at that, thighs squeezing uselessly around the ache between them. Ben noticed the motion and laughed again, cruel and breathless. “Poor thing,” he said, though there was no pity in it. “Mouth full and still worried about your pussy.”

He pulled out until only the tip rested against your tongue, letting you breathe for one shaky second. You gasped softly, lips wet and swollen, chin messy. Ben looked at your mouth like it belonged to him now. “Say it,” he ordered. You blinked up at him, dazed.

“Say whose cock you wanted when you were ridin’ that little toy.” Your voice came out broken and wet. “Yours.” His eyes narrowed. “Try again.”

“Daddy’s,” you whispered.

Ben’s whole expression changed.

The word hit him like a match to gasoline, and his cock jerked hard in his own hand before he pushed back into your mouth. “There you go,” he groaned. “Now you’re learnin’.” He fucked your mouth harder after that, no longer pretending he was patient. His hips snapped forward in short, rough strokes, each one forcing your lips wider and your throat tighter around him.

Your hands gripped his thighs as tears gathered faster now, not from fear, but from the overwhelming fullness and the ruthless pace. Ben watched them spill with obvious satisfaction, his mouth parted, his breathing rough and uneven.

“Take it,” he rasped. “That’s a good girl.” You moaned again, and the sound came out muffled around his cock. “Fuck, that mouth.”

The unlocked door sat behind him like a dare the whole time. You could see it in brief, watery flashes whenever your eyes drifted past his body, the simple twist lock untouched, the hall beyond hidden but not distant enough. Ben didn’t even glance back. If anything, he angled himself wider in front of you, broad shoulders blocking most of the room while his hips kept moving.

“You nervous someone’ll hear?” he asked, voice thick with amusement. Your eyes widened around him, and that was answer enough. “Too bad.” He pushed deeper, holding you there long enough for your throat to tighten around him.

“Should’ve thought about that before callin’ me Daddy with your cunt out.” The shame made you whimper, and Ben’s cock pulsed heavily against your tongue. “There she is,” he muttered. “Loves being scared of gettin’ caught.”

He pulled out fully for a second, letting his cock drag wetly over your lips. You coughed once, soft and breathless, saliva clinging between your mouth and the flushed head of him before breaking. Ben gripped his cock at the base and slapped the heavy length lightly against your cheek. “Messy,” he said. “But you can do better.”

Your lips trembled as you looked up at him. “Please,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. His brows lifted. “Please what?” Your face burned. “Please use my mouth.”

Ben stared at you for half a second, then laughed in a way that made your stomach fold in on itself. “Now that’s a polite little slut.” He tapped the tip against your tongue. “Open.”

You opened for him again, and he slid in with less resistance because your mouth was already wet and stretched from him. This time he didn’t bother building slowly. He buried one hand in your hair and braced the other against the wall beside the mirror, hips driving forward until your throat tightened around him.

The bathroom mirror caught the angle of him above you, jeans shoved low, shirt rumpled, jaw clenched, eyes dark with lust. He looked like he’d walked straight out of every forbidden thought you’d ever had and become worse in person.

Meaner. Larger. More shameless. Your own reflection flashed in the corner of the mirror too, knees parted, face messy, mouth full, eyes wet. Ben saw you notice and grinned. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “Look at yourself.”

You did, because his hand in your hair gave you no choice. Your face was smeared with pre-cum, spit, and tears, lips stretched around his cock while your mascara had started to blur at the edges of your lashes. Your body looked wrecked and exposed, pussy still bare under the light, the soft hair between your thighs damp with slick.

The sight made you moan around him without meaning to. Ben groaned immediately, hips stuttering once before he corrected himself. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Don’t do that unless you want me to finish early.” He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping, and wrapped his hand around himself at the base.

His cock was slick from your mouth now, shining wet, the head darker and more swollen than before. Pre-cum leaked again, thick and clear, slipping from the slit despite the way he held himself back. “Not in your mouth,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Not yet.”

You looked up at him, dazed and needy, throat aching and lips parted. Ben saw the disappointment flicker across your face and laughed under his breath. “Don’t pout,” he said. “You haven’t earned that.” His thumb smeared over your bottom lip, dragging saliva across your mouth before pushing lightly against your tongue.

You sucked it without thinking, and his jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscle jump. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re trouble.” He stepped closer again, cock heavy in his hand, still hard and slick and flushed from how close he’d nearly gotten. “Hands behind your back.”

You obeyed immediately, folding your hands behind yourself while still seated and exposed. Ben’s eyes dragged over you, pleased and mean. “Good. Now you’re gonna sit there and let Daddy decide what he does with you next.”

He rubbed the head of his cock over your lips again, not letting you take him, just painting your mouth with more slick while you fought to stay still. “This is what happens when you try to ruin somethin’ I like,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

“I make a mess of you instead.” Your pussy throbbed visibly beneath his gaze, and Ben’s mouth twisted. “Still wet,” he murmured. “That poor little cunt’s got no shame at all.” You whimpered, shoulders trembling with the effort not to reach for him again.

He dragged the underside of his cock across your cheek, then down over your chin, smearing your own spit back across your skin. “Gonna remember this every time you see that razor, aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, eyes wide and glossy. “Yes, Daddy.” Ben’s smile sharpened. “Damn right.”

He pushed back into your mouth one last time, slower than before but somehow even more possessive. Your lips closed around him, and he gave a deep groan that vibrated through the quiet room. He didn’t thrust immediately.

He just held himself there, heavy on your tongue, making you feel the weight and heat of him while your eyes stayed fixed on his face. “See?” he murmured. “This is useful.” Your throat worked around him, and his cock twitched hard. He hissed and pulled back before he could lose control.

“Fuck.” His hand tightened around himself again, stopping the orgasm that had clearly started to build too fast. He looked angry about wanting you this much, which only made him look hungrier.

“Not yet,” he said, voice wrecked but firm. “Daddy’s not done teachin’ you a lesson.” You gasped softly when he withdrew fully, mouth empty and aching. Ben looked down at you, cock still hard in his fist, and smiled like the night had only just started.

You sat there exactly how Ben had told you to, hands tucked behind your back, shoulders pulled slightly open because you weren’t allowed to hide from him anymore. Your breathing came back in uneven little pulls while your chest rose and fell too quickly, tits bouncing faintly with every shaky inhale as the bathroom light made every inch of you feel exposed.

Your mouth was still swollen and wet from him, lips parted as you tried to steady yourself, but Ben’s eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They had dropped lower, dragging over your bare chest, your trembling thighs, and the slick mess between your legs with the kind of shameless hunger that made your pussy clench again.

He stood over you with his jeans still open, cock hard and flushed in his hand, the head wet from your mouth and still leaking despite how tightly he held himself back.

The bathroom door stayed unlocked behind him, quiet and dangerous, but Ben didn’t even glance at it. He looked like he wanted the risk. He looked like he wanted you to remember every second.

“Hands stay there,” he said, voice rough and mean, his accent thicker now that he was worked up. “You move ’em, I stop.”

Your thighs twitched at that, and his mouth curled like he’d felt it somehow. “Course that gets your attention,” he muttered, stepping closer until his knees nearly brushed yours. “Mouth full of cock, cunt all wet, still sittin’ there like you’re the one bein’ tortured.” He dragged his gaze over your pussy again, slow and deliberate, taking in the soft bush he’d already decided belonged exactly where it was.

“Look at this,” he said, almost under his breath, like he was still pissed at you for nearly shaving it. “Pretty little thing, all soaked and puffy, and you were gonna take a razor to it.” Your face burned, but you didn’t close your legs. You couldn’t.

Ben dropped slowly to one knee in front of you, then the other, big hands landing on your thighs with a grip that made your breath hitch. “Since you wanted to be stupid,” he said, spreading you open wider, “Daddy’s gonna remind this pussy why it doesn’t need fixin’.”

The first rough pull at your bush made you gasp sharply. Ben’s fingers tangled in the soft hair between your thighs, tugging just enough to make your hips jerk and your clit throb. “There,” he said, voice low with satisfaction. “See? Personality.”

Your pussy looked wrecked beneath his stare, swollen from arousal, glossy with slick, the lips flushed darker and parted around the wet ache he’d worked you into without even properly touching you yet. The hair framed you messily, damp near the center from how wet you’d gotten, and Ben looked at it like it was something he wanted to ruin and worship at the same time.

His thumb dragged through your folds once, slow and rude, spreading your slick before he pressed the pad of it against your clit. You whimpered, shoulders trembling as you fought to keep your hands behind your back. Ben watched your face with cruel amusement. “Don’t start cryin’ yet,” he said. “Haven’t even put my mouth on you.”

Then he leaned in.

The first drag of his tongue through your pussy made your whole body jolt against the toilet seat, a broken sound spilling out of you before you could swallow it. Ben groaned into you immediately, the vibration rolling straight through your clit and making your thighs shake harder beneath his hands.

He didn’t eat you gently. There was nothing delicate about the way he opened you with his thumbs, pulled lightly at the hair to angle you how he wanted, then licked into you like he was angry at how good you tasted.

“Fuck,” he muttered against you, mouth wet and rough. “That’s why you were actin’ so dumb, huh?” His tongue pushed inside you suddenly, hot and firm, and your head tipped back against the wall with a helpless moan. “Daddy,” you gasped, already shaking. Ben’s hands tightened on your thighs. “Yeah,” he growled into your pussy. “That’s what I thought.”

He tongue fucked you with filthy, impatient strokes, pushing in and dragging out just to feel the way you clenched around him. Every time your hips lifted, he shoved you back down with one hand and tugged at your bush with the other, keeping you spread open and helpless under his mouth.

“Stay still,” he snapped, but there was a rough smile in his voice. “You wanted to be a big girl and shave this pretty cunt, didn’t you?” His tongue circled your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, and the sudden pressure ripped a loud cry out of you.

“Ben—” His hand came down hard on your thigh, not your face this time, but the warning was clear. He pulled back only enough to glare up at you. “What’d you call me?” Your chest heaved, tits bouncing with the effort of breathing. “Daddy,” you corrected quickly, voice breaking. Ben’s expression softened into something meaner. “Better.”

He went back down like he’d been starving.

His mouth sealed over your clit, sucking until your legs tried to clamp around his head, but his shoulders forced them open again. The scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs made everything sharper, rougher, dirtier, every pass of his mouth leaving you more sensitive than the last.

He kept making those low, approving sounds into you, like he couldn’t decide whether to punish you or praise himself for getting you this messy. “Look at you,” he mumbled between licks, his lips shining with you. “All wet for your dad’s best friend.”

The words made you moan so hard your hands twitched behind your back, and Ben noticed instantly. “Don’t you fuckin’ move those hands.” You froze, breath catching. He smiled against your pussy. “Good girl. Learnin’.”

You were shaking so hard now that staying upright took effort, your back pressed against the wall, knees spread wide, hands locked behind you while Ben worked you open with his mouth. His tongue pushed inside you again, deeper this time, the wet obscene sound of it filling the bathroom while his nose brushed against your clit. You moaned his title over and over, each

“Daddy” softer and more ruined than the last, and every one seemed to make him rougher. He dragged his tongue up to your clit and flicked it fast, then sucked, then pulled back just to spit on your pussy and smear it in with two fingers.

“Messy little thing,” he muttered, rubbing the spit and slick over your swollen clit before replacing his fingers with his mouth. Your body lurched forward, but he shoved you back again with a hand on your stomach.

“No. Sit there and take it.” His other hand pulled at your bush again, possessive and cruel, making you whimper from the sting and the pleasure tangled together. “This stays,” he said against you. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sobbed.

The answer made him groan like it satisfied something ugly inside him. He licked you harder after that, mouth dragging over every wet, swollen inch of you while his hands held you open like he owned the view. Your orgasm started building too fast, violent and hot, gathering low in your stomach until your thighs trembled uncontrollably around his head.

“I’m close,” you gasped, voice shaking. Ben didn’t pull away. He only looked up at you from between your thighs, eyes dark and mouth slick, and the sight nearly finished you right there. “Then come,” he ordered, voice muffled against your pussy.

“Cum on Daddy’s tongue.” His tongue pushed back inside you at the same time his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, cruel circles that made your whole body seize. You cried out, hands straining behind your back as pleasure finally snapped through you.

You came hard against his mouth, hips bucking despite his grip, thighs shaking so violently that Ben had to hold you down. He didn’t stop. He licked you through it, tongue dragging through the slick rush of your orgasm while you sobbed his name wrong once and then corrected yourself into a desperate “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” that made him growl into you.

Your pussy clenched around his tongue, swollen and soaked, every pulse making your body jolt in sharp little waves. Ben drank it in with a filthy kind of satisfaction, sucking and licking until you were writhing away from him because it was too much. Only then did he finally pull back, lips and chin wet, breathing rough as he looked up at you.

“There,” he said, voice wrecked but still cruel. “That’s what this pussy needed.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabbed your thigh hard enough to make you whimper. “Not a razor.” His eyes dropped to the soft, damp hair between your legs, and his mouth twisted with smug approval. “Me.”

Ben didn’t give you time to come down properly before his hand was back in your hair, hauling you up from the toilet seat with a roughness that made your knees nearly buckle. Your body was still shaking from his mouth, thighs slick and trembling, pussy swollen and wet enough that every step felt obscene.

“Up,” he growled, like he didn’t care that you were boneless and breathless and barely able to think. His grip stayed firm at the back of your neck as he turned you toward the sink, crowding behind you with his open jeans brushing against the backs of your thighs.

The bathroom mirror caught everything immediately, your messy mouth, your flushed cheeks, your tits rising and falling too fast, and Ben behind you looking huge and mean and completely gone on you. “Look at yourself,” he said, voice low against your ear. “Look what Daddy did to you already.”

Your palms hit the counter as he bent you forward, the edge of the sink pressing hard into your hips while your legs shook beneath you. Ben didn’t let you close them, not even for a second. He shoved one thigh between yours and forced your stance wider with his own legs, spreading you open until your pussy was exposed to him in the reflection.

“There,” he muttered, one hand gripping your hip while the other dragged down your spine. “Much better.”

Your eyes flicked to the mirror and immediately tried to drop, humiliation burning through you at the sight of yourself bent over the bathroom sink with your thighs parted and your slick still shining between them. Ben caught your chin from behind and forced your head back up. “No,” he snapped. “You wanted this. Now you watch.”

Before you could answer, two of his fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue until your lips closed around them automatically. “That’s it,” he said, sounding disgustingly pleased. “Drool on ’em.”

Your eyes watered as he pushed them deeper, your mouth stretched around his fingers while saliva gathered fast and messy. He watched you in the mirror, jaw tight, pupils blown, his cock dragging hot and heavy against your soaked folds from behind.

The tease of it made your hips jerk back despite yourself. Ben laughed under his breath, mean and breathless. “Greedy little thing. Mouth full and still tryin’ to get fucked.”

Then he lined himself up and thrust into you hard.

The stretch stole every bit of air from your lungs. Your moan came out muffled around his fingers, broken and wet, while your hands scrambled against the sink for something to hold. Ben cursed behind you, low and rough, his grip on your hip turning brutal as your pussy clenched around him immediately.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dipping briefly against your shoulder. “Tight little cunt’s been beggin’ for this all night.” He didn’t give you time to adjust for long. He pulled back halfway and snapped his hips forward again, shoving himself deep enough that your knees nearly gave out. “Look,” he ordered, fingers still pressing into your mouth. “Look how pathetic you are takin’ it.”

You forced your eyes up to the mirror, and the sight nearly ruined you. Your lips were stretched around Ben’s fingers, drool slipping down your chin, eyes glossy and blown wide while his body crowded yours from behind.

His cock disappeared into you with every rough thrust, your pussy wet enough that the sound filled the bathroom, filthy and rhythmic beneath both of your breathing. Your slick coated him instantly, creamy and clear around the base every time he drove back into you, making a messy shine where your bodies met.

Ben’s hand left your hip suddenly and came down hard across your ass, the slap echoing off the tile. You cried out around his fingers, clenching violently around him. He felt it instantly. “Oh, you liked that,” he said, voice sharpening with cruel amusement. “Course you did. Dirty little slut likes bein’ bent over and used in the bathroom.”

Your pussy tightened harder at the words, and Ben groaned like it pissed him off how good you felt. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, spanking you again, harder this time. “You’re squeezin’ me every time I call you what you are.” His fingers pressed deeper into your mouth, making you drool more, making the reflection even messier.

“That what you needed?” he asked, hips snapping into you with mean, steady force. “Needed Daddy to talk to you like some needy little whore so this pretty cunt would behave?” You whimpered around his fingers, nodding before you could stop yourself. His mouth twisted in the mirror. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Ben fucked you harder after that, like your body had given him permission to stop pretending he had any restraint left. One hand stayed in your mouth, keeping you quiet and messy, while the other alternated between gripping your hip and landing sharp, stinging slaps against your ass.

Each one made your body jolt forward against the sink, and each thrust dragged you back onto him again. “Look at that,” he rasped, eyes locked on the reflection of where your bodies met. “Taking Daddy’s cock like you were made for it.”

Your walls fluttered around him, slick and hot and clenching every time his voice dropped into that cruel, possessive tone. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, hips stuttering for half a second before he caught himself. “This pussy’s dangerous.”

You tried to say Daddy, but it came out as a wet, muffled sound around his fingers. Ben’s expression darkened at the attempt. “What was that?” he taunted, thrusting deep and holding there until you squirmed. You drooled around his fingers, eyes pleading in the mirror, body shaking from how full you felt. He pulled his fingers out just enough for you to gasp. “Say it.”

“Daddy,” you cried immediately, voice wrecked and breathless. Ben slammed back into you so hard your hands slipped against the counter. “Good girl,” he grunted. “Say it again.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, louder this time, and your pussy clenched down around him so hard he swore through his teeth.

His hand came back to your hip, fingers digging in as he chased that reaction again and again. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough and breaking at the edges now. “Keep squeezin’ me like that.”

You could feel how close he was getting, the way his thrusts turned less controlled, deeper and harsher, each one punching little broken sounds from your throat. Your own orgasm built fast, too fast, pressure tightening low in your stomach until your thighs were shaking against his.

Your cum started slicking him even more before you fully tipped over, wetness gathering thick and messy around his cock, smearing down your inner thighs, making every thrust sound wetter than the last. Ben saw it in the mirror, saw your pussy getting sloppy around him, saw the creamy ring of your arousal coating the base of him. “Don’t you look away,” he ordered. “You’re gonna watch yourself cum on Daddy’s cock.”

The command snapped something inside you. Your body seized against the sink, pussy clamping down around him as your orgasm hit hard enough to make your vision blur. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shaking violently while pleasure tore through you in hot, helpless waves.

Your cum soaked around him, slick and messy, your pussy pulsing so hard it pushed wetness down over his cock and onto your thighs with every clench. Ben groaned deep behind you, his grip turning almost painful as your orgasm dragged his out of him too.

“Fuck,” he rasped, hips driving in once, twice, then holding deep as he came with a broken, furious sound against your shoulder. You felt him spill hot inside you, thick pulses filling you while his cock twitched hard through every wave. The heat of his cum made you whimper, your overstimulated pussy clenching around him again as if trying to milk out every last drop.

Some of it pushed wetly around his cock where he stayed buried, mixing with your slick until both of you were messy and trembling in the mirror. His body pressed hard over yours, breath hot at your neck while both of you shook through it together. After a long moment, Ben laughed softly against your skin, rough and breathless. “That’s one hell of a lesson, sweetheart.”

© CUMKISSED ♡ | EST. JUNE 2026 ˎˊ˗ all original content found here belongs to me. canon material belongs to its respective owners. don't repost it, don't feed it to ai, don't translate it, don't archive it elsewhere, and definitely don't pretend you wrote it. ♡

but you never suspected anything. your dad had always been supportive— maybe a little protective, but never pushy. and ben was even better. he’d clap your boyfriends on the back, offer them beers, flash that easy smile that made everyone feel like they belonged.

he made jokes, gave advice, almost played the role of ‘uncle ben’ so well you’d almost forget how long his eyes would sometimes linger on your legs, your lips, your hips when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

not that you ever suspected him. why would you? he was your dad’s oldest friend, practically family. had been around forever— fixing things around the house, cracking jokes that made your cheeks burn.

but he never crossed a line, never touched, never did anything outright.

but you also didn’t catch the way ben’s arm draped casually along the back of the lawn chair, fingers curling into a fist behind your boyfriend’s head. or the way he gripped their hands too tightly for a handshake.

you didn’t catch the way ben looked at them— not friendly, but waiting.

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the first boyfriend you had, was polite, nervous around your dad, always offering to help carry things. not the type you usually went for, but he made you laugh, and he looked at you like he meant it.

ben had come by to drop off a tool he borrowed, that’s all it was. a quick visit— couple of beers, some talk about chainsaws, and a smoke by the shed. but he came through the front, unannounced. let himself in like he always did.

and he wasn’t loud about it either. the creak in the door, barely audible. he stepped inside quiet, out of habit. caught the sound of the tv, soft buzz in the background and then the silouhette of you on the couch.

“anyone in here?” ben called out turning the corner.

you jolted, legs swinging off of your boyfriends lap so fast your knees hit the coffee table. your shirt was rumpled, lips swollen— the boy had been grinding up against you through his jeans.

“ben— fuck, i didn’t hear you come in,” you stammered, tugging the hem of your top straight. wiping your lips off like you just did something unholy.

ben didn’t look at you, he tipped his head toward your boyfriend with a tight smile. “your dad’s wants me riggin’ up a tarp for the smoker, we're gonna need an extra pair of hands, mind helpin’?”

and your boyfriend actually smiled back. standing up with a full fledged boner hidden behind his belt, with a "sure thing, man".  

it wasn’t until the sun dipped and everyone had gone inside that ben finally pulled him aside. just the two of them behind the shed, cigarette burning between his fingers, smoke curling against the boy's face.

“so, what is it?” a pause to take a puff. “you fuck her yet?”

your boyfriend choked on his own spit. “excuse me?”

“i said, did you fuck her?” ben asked again, a twitch in his eye. “you put your cock in her, huh? that it? cause see, a sweet girl like that— she ain’t meant to be ruined by some dumb kid’s fingers."

ben leaned in, too close and he sure as hell wasn’t smiling now. “c'mon champ, you ever taste her? she ride your thigh like that often, or just when she’s desperate for it?”

“look man—” the boy took a step back, hands up defensively, “i— i haven’t done anything. i swear. she said she wanted to wait.”

“good,” he muttered finally. “means she ain’t fuckin' ruined.”

and with a little more coercing, and possibly a few mild threats, your boyfriend left the next morning. no text, no explanation, completely ghosted you ever since that day.

the second boyfriend. you were upstairs getting ready for bed. hair still wet from the shower, door cracked, towel slipping low on your hips. ben paused in the hallway. stared just long enough to see the shadow of your figure move in front of your mirror, then kept walking.

your boyfriend was alone in the kitchen. it was late. your dad had gone to bed already. ben should’ve left too, but he didn’t.

“grab me one would'ya?,” ben said, nodding at the fridge as if it was his own.

your boyfriend smiled, pulled two beers. he was nervous— you always dated the nervous ones, the type that tried too hard to fit in. ben cracked his open bottle and leaned back against the countertop.

“you ever think about how young she is?” ben asked suddenly.

the guy blinked. “uh— what? i've only got a few years on her?”

ben took a long sip from the beers spout. “you know what i mean. she’s not some bar slut, she’s still got rules. living in her daddy’s house, under daddy’s roof.” he gave a dry chuckle.

“dude, no,” he said quickly. “it’s not like that.”

ben tilted his head finally. studied him like something under a heat lamp. “you’re tellin’ me you ain’t touched her yet?”

your boyfriend cleared his throat. “not like, not all the way, but—”

ben laughed under his breath. shook his head like he was disappointed. “she’s sweet,” he murmured. “ and too fuckin’ good for you.”

“well, i like her,” the guy insisted. “i’m not trying to hurt her or anything.”

ben stepped closer, eyes dark. “nah. but you’re gonna. sooner or later. they always do. and i’ll be honest with you, kid.” he leaned down, tone dropping low enough to make the hairs rise on the back of his neck. “if you ever come 'round here again, i’ll put your head through drywall and tell her you fell.” ben smiled, mocking but almost pitying. “don’t make me have to explain to her why you stopped calling.”

he patted him on the cheek once, like a father would. then turned and walked down the hall— pausing just once to glance up at the light spilling from your bedroom door.

and that guy left the same night, told you 'it wasnt gonna workout' with no further explanation.

you cried his arms both times— like you always did after things went wrong. the second ben seen your red eyes, he was reaching for you.

“sweetheart,” he said, full of concern. “what happened?”

you tried to wave it off. shook your head, blinked quick like that’d stop the tears, but he was already opening his arms, tugging you into his lap.

“shh, hey now,” he muttered, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other rubbing long, slow strokes down your back. “none of that, baby. you're too good to be cryin’ over some dumb fuck who doesn’t know what he had.”

you sniffled, curled into his chest, and he rocked you just a little— soft and steady, hoping he might lull the ache out of your ribs.

“they don’t get it, sweetheart,” he whispered, mouth near your temple. “you’re somethin’ special. any guy with half a brain would be beggin’ to hold onto you.”

and the second time it happened, he offered to take you for ice cream. said you could drive around in his truck for a while, let the breeze help clear your head. called you his baby girl when you managed a weak smile.

and you didn’t even think to wonder why he was always the one around when your heart got broken.

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you’d kept this third boyfriend to yourself for the first few months— told yourself it was better that way. no pressure or interference. no early opinions from your dad or awkward tension radiating off the man who was fused to your living room couch.

and things were going well this time. there were no red flags, sudden withdrawals, no ghosting or half-hearted apologies through text. and most importantly, now he wanted to meet your family.

after your last ex ended things out of nowhere, it left you hollow and second-guessing everything— if you were too much, too clingy, not pretty enough. the kind of rejection that doesn’t make you angry, just small.

you’d never wondered why ben always showed up the next day. or wondered how he always knew exactly when you needed him.

because now, things were going right— and ben’s been watching you closer. smiling harder, slipping in questions with that easy charm he uses when he wants to pretend something doesn’t matter.

“what’s got my baby girl lookin’ so happy lately?”

you’d simply smiled, not bothering to look up from your phone. “no reason.”

“nah,” he hummed. “there’s always a reason. c’mon now, y'don’t need another silly boyfriend to keep that pretty smile, sweetheart. you’re perfect the way you are.”

your laugh had been small, shoulders hunching like he’d embarrassed you. but you didn’t think much of it. ben said shit like that all the time. always a bit too affectionate, too hands-on, too familiar— but that was just the way ben was.

and so, you finally decided it was time to bring your boyfriend around. your dad didn’t think much of it— he was just glad to see you smiling again. and ben, well, ben had just grinned. “can’t wait to meet him.” with a tick in his jaw that went unnoticed by you.

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so, the dinner had been your idea. your boyfriend— months in now, and still going strong— had started asking about finally meeting your dad. and since ben was already over almost every weekend, hanging around like he always had, it made sense to do it all at once.

but by the time you’d set the table, there was a nervousness creeping in under your skin. not from your boyfriend, no, he was charming, polite. even brought your dad a bottle of something expensive as a thank you. he complimented your cooking, even offered to help clean up.

it was because of ben, from the moment he stepped through the front door, something was off.

"mm, smells real good in here," he said, sniffing the air dramatically. "or is it that new scent you been sportin' lately.”

“it’s that strawberry one i bought you—” your boyfriend started from beside you.

ben didn’t even look at him. “s'the lavender vanilla one,” he cut in smoothly, eyes flicking over to you like he’d won fucking first place in a game that wasn't supposed to be played. “ it's a little stronger than usual tonight, ain’t it, sweetheart?”

you shyly laughed, cheeks warming as you smoothed your hands over your thighs. “yea, maybe i went overboard.”

“nah.” ben’s smile twitched into something tighter. “i like it.”

your dad called from the kitchen, and the moment broke— ben shrugging out of his jacket and moving toward him like nothing had happened, patting your boyfriends shoulder, helping with drinks.

ben sat across from the two of you at the table, making himself comfortable like he owned the place. arm hung lazy over the back of your dad’s chair, relaxed in a deliberate way that always meant he was watching everything.

“so," he started casually, tipping his chin toward your boyfriend, “you’re the one that’s got her grinnin’ all the time like that, huh?”

"guess so," your boyfriend chuckled, glancing at you.

"hm." ben smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “lotta pressure, y’know. keepin’ a smile like that on her.”

your dad snorted into his beer. “don’t scare him off now, ben.”

“nah, i mean it,” ben said, eyes flicking back to your boyfriend. “ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ a little protective. not when that someone’s worth protectin’.”

your boyfriend nodded tightly, but he shifted in his seat like he was uncomfortable just sitting there.

you glanced between the two of them, sensing a weird change in the air, but your dad— oblivious— got up from the table with a sigh. “gonna hit the bathroom, don’t let ''em fight while i’m gone.”

the second your dad disappeared down the hall, ben leaned forward, forearms braced on the wood, beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

“so tell me,” he said, tone still smooth, but quieter now. “you think you’re good for her?”

your boyfriend blinked. “uh—yeah. i’d like to think so.”

“you’d like to think so,” ben echoed. “see, that ain’t the same as knowin’. that’s just guessin’. and guessin’ don’t cut it around here.”

“ben,” you warned softly, eyes wide.

“what?” he blinked innocently. “m'just tryin’ to get to know the guy.”

you shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of the tension— how your boyfriend had stopped smiling. and how ben hadn’t looked away from him once. the air had thickened with something unspoken, even as he tilted his head and grinned again, all faux-charm and teeth.

"look," he said, glancing at you. “m’just messin’ with you both. i approve of it, m'happy for you two.”

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after dinner, the air was cool outside, crickets humming under the moonlight. porchlight flickering.

your boyfriend had kissed you goodbye by the front door. leaned in with both hands curling a little too low over your ass, even gave a squeeze that made your shoulder jerk with a surprised laugh. you returned still inside, rinsing the dishes with your dad. laughing over some dumb joke ben had told earlier.

your boyfriend didn’t know ben was outside the house. he didn't clock the sharp flick of a lighter or the curling smoke of a cigarette beside the fence, or the way his boots chewed over the gravel when he stepped out of the dark.

“hey.” ben had that wolfish grin on his face, the forced kind of grin that never reached his eyes. “you left somethin’.”

your boyfriend blinked, patting his pockets. “oh shit what—?”

“my fuckin’ patience.” ben grabbed him by the shirt collar before the kid could blink, yanking him back against the rear end of the car with a dull thud.

“jesus, what the fuck man?”

“don’t touch her like that.” ben’s fist was knotted in the cotton of his collar, twisting hard enough the guy had to grab at his wrist. "you shut up and listen to me.” his voice was so quiet, dangerous, the kind of tone that made anyones blood chill even if it wasn’t meant for you.

“you wanna play boyfriend, fine. smile at her, take her out, tell her she’s beautiful. but you pull a stunt like that, in front of me again— hands on her ass, kissin’ her like you own her— and i swear to god—”

“you’re insane—”

ben leaned in closer, his mouth right by the guy’s ear. “if you wanna keep your fingers, you’ll walk away, tonight. tell her you changed your mind, tell her it’s not workin’. i don’t give a fuck how you spin it. you make sure it ends.”

he let the poor guy go, shoved back just hard enough to make him stumble.

“and next time a man’s talkin’ to you, you look him in the fucking eye, or i’ll teach you how real men handle disrespect.”

your boyfriend looked stunned. chest heaving, like he couldn’t decide whether to swing or run.

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but by the next morning— ben knew.

it was barely past noon when he pulled up to the house again. he knew your dad’s out at work for the day, knew it before he even turned onto your street.

still, he knocks at your front door twice, but you don’t answer. and your sniffles gave you away before anything else did. ben opened the door and turned the corner to see you curled up on the couch, knees to your chest.

you look up, startled, and he plays the part— eyes wide with concern, voice gentle like cotton as he crouches down to your level.

“hey now,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over your arm, “what’s all this?”

your face crumples. “ben—” but the words cut short as your mouth wobbles and your eyes squeeze shut, tears spilling hot down your cheeks.

“aw, baby,” he breathes, pulling you in, “c’mere, that’s it. let it out, let it all out.” he cradles your head against his chest, and you just sob—deep, shaking, gut-wrenching.

you not even sure why he’s here. but the warmth as you cling to him, twisting your fists into the front of his shirt, as he pets your hair like you’re some fragile little thing. it was soothing.

“i knew somethin’ was wrong,” he coos, “my poor girl, crying all alone.” his lips press right in to your hairline. “don’t worry, i'm here now.”

he tilts your face up, pads his thumb under your lashes and over the damp skin of your cheeks, placing a soft kiss between your brows. “you’re too good for that kinda heartbreak, sweetheart.”

your breath stutters again, but it’s softer now— easing slowly under the warmth of his voice and the rough pads of his fingers stroking your temple. you fall asleep like that— head resting in his lap, cheek squished against the denim of his jeans, fingers curled against his thigh. he rubs your back in gentle circles, just watching down over you.

ben's other hand drifts over your bare thigh, and his cock is already half-hard beneath you. and it’s not about that right now, not when you look this soft, this innocent.

because if ben can’t have you, then no one else ever will.

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he opens the passenger door and settles you inside so gently. because you’ll crack if he lets go too fast. buckles the seatbelt over your waist with one hand, the other still curled protectively behind your neck. smoothing your hair back, brushing his thumb down your jaw. he can’t help it. you look so helpless like this.

and deep down, ben knows exactly what he’s doing.

he knows your dad’s at work for the rest of the evening. knows you’ve got no one else to check in. knows this little heartbreak— this third one in a row— left you too soft to resist him. it’s wasn't about being opportunistic, he told himself. it’s about making sure you’re okay. it’s about love, always has been.

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you wake to the soft creak of a ceiling fan and the golden spill of evening light across your skin, filtered through the blinds in thin amber stripes. the sheets underneath you smell like cedar and detergent, like a man’s bed, and for a second your chest tightens, not in fear, just confusion.

you blink slow, turn your face into the pillow. everything feels heavier. your eyes sting a little from the crying, throat dry. there’s a second pillow behind your back like someone propped it there just to keep you comfortable.

“hey,” comes a familiar voice from the doorway. “you’re up.”

you turn your head and ben’s standing there holding a little tray in one hand— two slices of buttered toast and a mug of tea. “thought you might be hungry,” he says. “figured you didn’t eat all day.”

you sit up slow, still drowsy, fingers curling into the blanket. you’re not even sure when you got here. last thing you remember is falling asleep in his lap, the way he kept stroking your back, whispering things into your hair like it was all gonna be okay.

“how’d i get here?” you ask quietly.

ben smiles, the kind that shows off the fine lines by the edges of his eyes. crouching down beside the bed. “you were upset, baby. couldn’t leave you all alone like that.” his hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear, then rests warm against your cheek. “you looked so peaceful, didn’t wanna wake you.”

you should feel a little uneasy, but you don’t. not with him looking at you like that. like you’re breakable, precious. his thumb strokes beneath your eye, careful where the skin’s still tender and puffy from earlier.

“was worried about you, y’know,” he murmurs. “you’ve got a big heart, and too many boys don’t know how to treat that right.”

you nod, a little sniffle catching in your throat. he notices. wipes it with the pad of his thumb, then leans in and presses a kiss right between your brows.

“but you don’t gotta think about any of that right now,” he whispered against your forehead. “you’re with me.”

and god, ben meant every word of it. he’d burn down the whole damn town if it meant keeping you in this bed, wrapped in his sheets, smelling like him. the way he keeps thumbing over your ankle while you sip from the mug.

he knows he caused all your pain, but he also knows he’s the only one who’ll take it away.

“alright,” he mutters, clapping his hands once like it’ll jolt the heaviness off you. “that’s enough of this pity party.” you blink up at him in confusion.

“c’mon, i got an idea,” he says. “unless you’d rather me drive you home and cry into your pillow all night.”

you scowl, half-hearted. “don’t be a dick.”

“i’m not,” he says, almost smiling. “i’m tryin’ to rescue you, sweetheart. let me.”

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the kitchen light hums overhead while ben digs through his pantry, pretending to mutter to himself. “no offence, kid, but your snack game hasn't changed in ten years.”

you’re slumped in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, feeling hollowed out after the day you had. the breakup, the ache behind your eyes that hasn’t fully gone away.

ben straightens with a box of popcorn in one hand and candy in the other. “c’mon,” he says, lifting a brow. “you used to make me sit through princess diaries on repeat with a bowl of dry cheerios and one of those juice packs. we're doing the deluxe treatment tonight, sweetheart.”

and that gets the faintest smile out of you.

the lights stay dim as he sets up the living room— lamp in the corner, an old action movie queued up, two mismatched mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the coffee table. there’s popcorn, candy, even a cozy throw blanket folded on the couch. it’s kind of ridiculous how fast he did it. but after all, he’d been planning to comfort you all day.

ben takes the far side of the couch— not next to you, but close enough. you settle beside him without a word, clutching the mug between your palms. the heat seeps into your fingers, and the sound of the movie fills the silence.

you make it half way through the movie but still, your mind wanders. why did it keep happening to you?  all three breakups. boys who lie to you, cut things off unexpectedly, or better yet just ghost you all together.

ben notices your daze and pats the cushion beside him— the space right next to his thigh “hey, come here.”

something about the way he says it makes you shift over, tucking yourself into the blanket he opens for you. ben pulls it up around your shoulders, wraps an arm over the back of the couch. his hand never directly touches you, but you feel his warmth anyway.

“you know you’re one of the best girls i’ve ever met?” he says softly, a passing thought. “kindest, smartest. got more heart than any of those little boys ever deserved.”

you exhale, quietly, trying to process what he's saying.

"and it's not your fault they couldn’t handle that,” he adds. “they don’t know what they’re looking at when they’ve got you.”

your chest tightens because ben always knows what to say, and always knows how to make you feel better. he hums, low in his throat. his thumb finds your ankle again beneath the blanket— just resting there.

“you were always like that. big eyes 'nd an even bigger heart. never thought you’d grow up into someone so damn—” he trails off, then laughs under his breath. “special.”

in the moment you shouldn’t feel what you feel— but you’re so tired of being broken down, so tired of being unloved. he turns toward you, gaze heavy on your face, his own reflecting the tv's illumination.

“look at me,” ben says gently, tipping your chin up with two fingers. his eyes drop to your lips— only for a second, then back to your eyes. he’s so close you can smell the chocolate on his breath.

“make me a promise yea?” he murmurs.

your lips part. “what kinda promise?”

he tilts his head, brushes his thumb over your chin. "no more wasting your time on boys who don’t deserve you, promise me that.”

you nod, slow, but your eyes don’t quite meet his. instead they lower— his chest, his mouth, then down at your own hands, tangled up in the edge of the blanket.

“ben, i try,” you whisper. “i really do. but it’s like— like i’m never enough for them.”

a beat passes, and his fingers are already reaching, tilting your chin up until there’s nowhere left to look but him— those green eyes catching every flicker of pain you’ve been trying to hide.

“don’t say that,” he murmurs. “don’t ever fuckin’ say that, you hear me?” his thumb drags over your bottom lip.

“you wanna know why they’re gone?” he asks, and his voice is quiet, but it cuts through the hum of the movie. “it’s because they weren’t good enough for you. none of ‘em.”

your breath hitches. your eyes search his, confused again. but his hand doesn’t leave your face. brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, then his palm settles against your cheek, thumb stroking again and again.

“you think i was gonna let some dumb fuck-boy keep his hands on my baby girl?”

you blink. “ben—”

“no,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “you don’t get it. you don’t see what i see. you’ve grown up into the sweetest thing i’ve ever fuckin’ laid eyes on, and they were just gonna ruin you.”

your lip trembles beneath his thumb. “you’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “ 'nd you don’t even know what you do to me.”

his other hand slips under the blanket, resting at your thigh. “all i’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe. and maybe” he leans closer, breath grazing your cheek, “maybe i’ve been selfish about it, but i did it for you.”

he wets his lips. “you believe me, don’t you sweetheart?”

and you sure as hell shouldn’t, not after everything he’s just said, or the way your heart’s twisting into something unfamiliar. but your head nods anyway.

because ben’s always been the one to see you. when you were younger, it was the way he carried your backpack in from the car, let you fall asleep on his shoulder during bonfire nights, called you kiddo even when you were too old for it.

when your dad was working on your birthday that one year, ben showed up at your door with a single cupcake, a crooked candle already lit. he always knew when to show up and always knew just what to say.

and sure, you thought it was because he cared. but you never realized how much.

and now— with his hand cradling your cheek, his mouth just inches from yours, speaking to you like you’re the most delicate thing in the whole world— your heart can’t tell the difference between love and something darker.

he leans in, so close his breath practically mingles with yours, eyes dragging over your face like he’s carving the way your pupils are dilated into memory.

“the things i’ve thought about doin’ to you, god, i’d ruin you, even right where you’re safest, in my arms.”

you can still feel his thumb at your mouth, still feel the heat of his gaze. and that’s when you lean in— drawn in like a thread caught around your ribs— mouth ghosting his.

“you gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?” ben murmurs, voice wrecked and low. “or do i have to wait 'til i’m dreamin’ again?”

you tilt forward— until your nose brushes his. and when he doesn’t pull back, when he doesn’t blink, you close that final inch between you. and ben doesn’t stop you when your lips brush his, doesn’t pull away. he guides you as you lean in again, kissing him slower this time, a little deeper, waiting for the part where he changes his mind.

“get over here,” ben mutters, rough around the edges. his hands settle at your hips as he helps you shift over his lap. you move slow, nervous, one leg at a time until you’re straddling him fully— his chest against yours, his hands planted on your waist.

then you go back in again, a little more confident this time. sweet and trembling, barely touching your mouth to his. his beard scratches your skin, but he lets you take your time, lets you keep control even though you’re sitting on top of a man who’s twice your size and far too old to be looking at you the way he does.

“did you ever think of me— like that?” the question slips out before you had time to stop yourself.

ben's eyes shut for a second, jaw clenching beneath your fingertips. “i tried not to,” he admits. “for a long time. but you kept growin’ up, didn’t you?” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“did you ever think about y'know— what would you do to me?” you ask, and it comes out smaller than you mean it to.

ben’s thumb brushes under your lip. “if i could?”

“i’d take my time with you. start with my mouth— everywhere. get you feelin’ so twitchy and wet you'd forget why it ever felt wrong.”

when you don't say anything he keeps going.

“first, i’d make you come on my fingers, maybe my tongue if i'm feelin' greedy,” he continues, one hand splayed across your lower back. “then i’d get you under me, nice and gentle. make sure you knew what it felt like to be wanted, not just used.”

his voice hitches just slightly, like he’s holding back the weight of it. “you always deserved more than what those boys gave you. a real man.”

now his hands are guiding you, the constant friction makes you wetter with each push of his hands, his cock imprinting against his sweatpants with a perfect outline.

your hips twitch against his bulge, needy for more. ben feels it— the way your trying to grind your needy cunt against him, the way your breath hitches every time he shifts just enough to make you chase the feeling.

his other hand slides up to your cheek, thumb resting near your lips. he watches the way your lashes flutter, your lips parted and damp from all the soft, searching kisses. his mouth ghosts yours again, so close you feel the promise of another kiss, one that he doesn’t give you.

“but, i’m not gonna do any of that,” he says suddenly, the line snapping tight. “not tonight. not ‘cause i don’t want to,” he murmurs. "you got no fuckin’ idea how bad i want to.”

he tilts his head, presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. then another, lower on your jawline. one more to your neck, where your pulse hammers wild beneath his lips.

“you deserve to squirm over it a little first,” he adds. “i want you thinkin’ about it—thinkin’ about what i could do to you if i really let myself.”

he holds your gaze for a moment longer, like he’s weighing it— your scent, your pulse, your silence. then he exhales, slow through his nose, and lets his hands slide off you with reluctant finality.

"alright," he mutters, like it’s taking effort to sound composed. "i better drive you home."

you blink at him, disoriented. “now?”

he stands, adjusting his boner in his sweats like it’s no big deal, like he doesn’t still feel how good it was to have you in his lap. "yeah. gotta make sure you get a good night’s sleep."

he flashes a crooked grin, but his eyes stay heavy on you, devouring. "you know you won’t sleep a fuckin’ wink if i let you stay, and what the hell would your dad think?"

he tosses a hoodie toward you— his, oversized and worn in. gesturing for you to put it on. “throw that on. i’ll go start the truck.”

and just like that, he’s stepping out of his living room, leaving you alone in the quiet, still confused and aching, his words still echoing low in your gut.

you pull the hoodie over your head. it smells like him. and you already know— you're screwed.

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your fingers tremble as they reach up, hesitating before brushing a tentative touch along the seam of his sweatpants, tracing the outline of his cock pressed hard and leaking against the fabric. “ben” you whisper, small but desperate.

he doesn’t answer, the tension in his body palpable. then, his voice cuts through the stillness. “no, sweetheart. not like this.”

“but— you know my dad’s home,” you murmur, cheeks warm with a mix of shame and need.

the light shifts, but ben doesn’t move, caught in the tension, the impossibility of the moment. then, with a harsh exhale, he pulls back. “no. i’m not gonna do this like some quick fuck on the side of the road. your mouth’s too pretty to be doing this with an old man like me.” the hum of the engine filling the silence between you. but ben’s jaw tightens, his fingers twitching on the wheel like he’s fighting himself. “we gotta get you home,” he finally mutters, forced.

but you don’t stop. your hand slips over his sweatpants, palming him just enough to make his breath hitch. lips brush over the fabric, kissing small, teasing spots like a puppy desperate for attention.

ben’s hand shoots up, gentle but firm, tugging the hair away from your face. his eyes drop to yours, conflicted. “you’re ain't that little girl anymore,” he says— something like pride and something darker, possessive. “but you were always mine.”

“i am,” you whisper, eyes wide and honest. “and you— you just wanted to keep me safe. from anyone that would hurt me.” your voice wavers, the unspoken truth hanging heavy between you. “you threatened all my boyfriends.”

“so you think i’m the bad guy, that it?” he murmurs, "but, i’m the only one who’s ever cared enough to keep you safe. keep you from getting hurt by assholes who don’t deserve you.”

your fingers fumble at the waistband of his sweatpants, slow and deliberate, and ben’s breath hitches— his grip on the wheel faltering. and the truck veers gently, with a curse, ben pulls off onto the gravel shoulder of an empty lot.

“we can’t keep pretending this isn’t what it is,” he says, voice low but firm, eyes locked on yours. “you’re mine, and i’m the only one who gets to do this to you.”

“do what?” you whisper, breath catching as your fingers freeze on the waistband.

ben’s eyes darken, a dangerous glint sparking behind them. he undoes his seatbelt with a quick jerk, the metal clicking loose echoing in the quiet cab. “you really wanna play this game?” he growls. “you got no fuckin’ clue what you’re asking for.”

before you can react, his hands grip your waist, hauling you roughly onto his lap. the heat of his body presses against you, cock hard and straining beneath his pants.

“i’m the only one who gets to touch you,” he murmurs against your mouth before tilting his head to bite gently at your lower lip. a twisted kind of possessive pride threading through his words.

then, his mouth slides down to your jaw, then the sensitive skin of your neck, where he plants wet possessive kisses, each one punctuated by his low whisper: “only me.”

his hand slips to your ass, fingers curling tight, pulling you flush against him. “only i get to touch this,” he says, voice thick with need. he traces a slow path back up your side, fingers dragging under the hoodie, teasing the soft skin beneath.

“only my hands, my mouth,” ben breathes, pressing another sloppy rough kiss to your collarbone. his hand slides lower, fingers squirming under your pants. firmly against the wet heat soaking through your panties, letting the slick friction make your clit pulse against his finger tips.

“this is mine too,” ben growls, voice thick and filthy. “betting she's already all soakin' just thinking 'bout me."

ben’s fingers don’t stop their slow, deliberate rub against your soaked cunt.“tell me,” he hums. “you ever fucked yourself thinking about me? ever stuffed your fingers in that tight little cunt while imagining my hands on you?”

your fingers clutch the hem of his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric like you’re trying to hold yourself together. “mhm,” you whisper, “please ben.”

“licking your own fingers, trying to feel close to me when i’m not around.” ben's grip tightens, fingers digging into your hips just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“you think you’re ready for that, sweetheart?” ben hisses. "i ain't want it to be like this, you deserve better but— fuck."

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before you knew it, the backseat of ben’s truck was heavy with the sweet scent of sex and sweat. the windows fogged over, catching the dim glow of the streetlights outside as your breath came in tiny little hiccups, gasping for air between every ragged movement.

it started slow— ben easing you, stretching you carefully to mold around the chub of his cock— but now he had you on your knees, gripping your hips with a strength that was equal parts need and desperation.

your clenching pussy tightened around him, slick and pulsing, pressed all the way up to the thick, ruddy tip of his cock. it was coated in the frothy white of your shared releases, sticky and warm, pearly streaks glistening along his length.

“haven’t—” he grunted, hips snapping harder, fingers gripping your hips with brutal leverage, “fucked a pussy this good, in a long fucking time.”

your head was tilted to the side, trying to kiss him back, but the way he was fucking you felt so good, so relentless, you could barely manage it— your lips barely brushing his before you gasped again. “it’s too much,” you whispered, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

ben’s eyes darkened as he grabbed your throat gently but firmly, pulling your face up so he could look into your hazy, desperate gaze.“i know, baby,” he murmured, thumb pressing down on your clit.

your eyes stung with tears of need, cheeks burning hot with the frantic rush of your pulse. he watched you like that for a sick, twisted moment— lips twitching into a sadistic smirk that made your heart pound.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper, voice shaky and raw. your hand slides down the foggy window beside you, fingertips tracing cool trails over the damp glass as the pleasure spirals tighter and tighter inside you.

ben’s grip on your hips tightens, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. just when the coil threatens to break, your phone buzzes sharply— your dad calling.

ben freezes for a heartbeat, then growls, “fuckin— answer it.”

your breath tightens as ben slows his thrusts, his hand dipping lower to rub your clit with slow, deliberate circles that keep you suspended just on the edge. your fingers shake as you fumble to answer the phone, voice soft and shaky.

“hey dad, yea, i’ll be home soon" you whisper, trying to sound innocent, even as his best friend's got a tightening grip around your throat, pulling you flush against his back. his breath is hot at your ear, muffling your words.

his thumb presses harder against your clit, teasing and demanding, dragging out every strained breath and quiet whimper you try to hold back. “don’t fuck this up for me,” ben whispers, his hips still moving just enough to keep your body on the knife’s edge between pleasure and need.

the contrast of your hushed, nervous voice on the phone and the raw heat of ben’s touch sends a jolt through you— a dirty secret held between the two of you in the confides of his fogged-up truck.

the call ends with a quick click, but the silence that follows is louder than any noise. ben’s hands slowly leave your hips, sliding up to rest gently on your shoulders. the rough edges of his touch soften, as if he’s trying to be careful— not just with your body, but with what’s left of his own twisted heart.

he takes a shaky breath, jaw clenched like he’s holding back words that want to tear him apart. “this is fucked up,” he finally admits, with the weight of everything you both know. “and i know that.”

your eyes search his, looking for the man beneath all the anger and need. “but it feels right,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “even if it shouldn’t.”

ben’s gaze falters, the walls around him cracking just enough to show something fragile underneath. “you don’t get to say that. not when i’m the one who’s supposed to be keeping you safe.”

“but you are,” you say, curling your fingers tighter in the fabric of his damp sweatshirt. “in your own way. it's just gotta be our little secret."

you rest your head against his shoulder, letting the tension slip away just a little— because even in the fucked up mess of it all, it feels like home.

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @sluts4superman @sunnyfuffly @deansbeer @claymoresofinfamy23 @beforeroachfalls @capkatie @sbwifey @thesevnthseal @lunaleah @prettywhenipanic @defnot-svnshine @coventina2001 @adoredawn @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @scrmqwn @littlejoels @lori19 @tinysunshine @luvriablack @hueswithblues @lupinslibraries @a-lil-pr1ncess @beausling @lacysretribution @eternalstaar @maleficdean @ladykitana90 @n0t-vzin1s @deansposessive @quinnsdesk @okyouknowwhat @castielsonlyangel @maanlikemoon @viluren @deansbbyx

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