Naim

But the words wouldn't leave him.

The light pre-heat he'd been ignoring since the start of the match suddenly flared hotter. His skin flushed and he could feel himself getting hotter. His scent sweetened involuntarily, and a familiar ache bloomed low in his belly. He gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard.

Just an adrenaline crash, he told himself. There was no way he could be getting a heat out of his regularly scheduled ones. 

Absolutely no way!

You had lingered in the hallway for a few minutes, giving him space while your mind raced for a way to smooth things over. Eventually, the pull of his scent that had just released was too sweet to ignore and drew you back towards the bathroom. 

Sae stood in front of the mirror, ne hand slowly tracing over his flat, toned stomach. He looked so conflicted his brows knitted tightly together in a way you found so adorable. 

You stepped behind him again, arms wrapping around his waist as you pressed close and scented his neck deeply. Your pheromones rolled over him like a wave.

The effect was immediate as you heard the slight hitch of Sae's breath and felt his body tremble. A sudden onslaught of thoughts flowed through his head,

His stomach, round and heavy with your pups, his swollen tits leaking. Trying and failing to even walk while so full of you he could barely move. Your knot locked deep inside him, stretching him wide while multiple babies kicked against his belly.

“Fuck…” he whispered, voice cracking.

You knew the exact moment his heat came on as his scent exploded- sweet and needy. He tried to delay it though, shoving weakly at your arm. “I’m… going to shower alone- t-to clear my head. Don’t follow me.”

He slipped out of your grasp and fled to the bedroom, but you both knew he was delaying the inevitable. You expected to have him storm baack into the bedroom have force you out. But, when no movement occurred you followed him into the bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, the scene that greeted you made your cock throb instantly.

Sae was on all fours in the middle of the bed, face buried in the pillow he'd taken from your side of the bed- the one drenched in your scent.

You watched his hips roll desperately on his teddy, he humped it frantically trying to get off. He had taken off his shorts, leaving him in nothing but a pair of expensive oanties that were already soaked through. The delicate fabric clung to his slick drenched pussy as he presented so beautifully for you.

“Nngh- hah…” His voice was muffled by the pillow. “Breed me… fill me until it takes… I want your kids…” Yet the desperate humping brought him no relief.

Tears were already gathering in his eyes. No matter how hard he ground against the plushie, it wasn’t enough. 

The floor creaked under your foot. Sae’s head snapped up, eyes wide and glassy as they met yours. For a split second, pure mortification flashed across his face then another wave of heat hit him and his hips jerked involuntarily.

“This is just the heat talking…” he choked out, voice cracking into a needy whine even as fresh tears slipped down his flushed cheeks. “I don’t ah-I don’t actually- I can’t-”

But his body betrayed him completely and by his hazy eyes he needed you bad. The proud omega football was gone replaced by a dripping mess dry (or wet) begging to be bred.

At the pornographic sight in front of you how could you even dare stay away any longer. In just two long strides you were on him you easily manhandled him into your lap, ignoring his weak protests and faced the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” you growled low in his ear, one hand splayed possessively over his flat stomach while the other yanked the ruined lingerie down his thighs. “Watch how badly you want me to pup you up."

Your hand moved towards his pretty pussy that was glistening with slick you pushed a finger in delighted in watching him squirm. Before he could get used to just the 1 you pushed in two more. You fingered him roughly and beside from the squelching his moans filled the room.

As you curled them just right to hit his bundle of nerves, he arched his back trying to flee as it was all too much. "P-please!" His hands reached to push you away but the heat made his efforts all too futile.

He was forced to just take it before you took mercy on him and took your fingers out. Instead, you quickly freed your cock and pressed it against his slick hole. 

He tried to look away, but you gripped his chin and kept his gaze locked on the mirror. You didn’t give him time to breathe.

You thrust in deep in one smooth, powerful motion, bottoming out inside his slick, fluttering pussy. Sae’s eyes flew wide open in the mirror, a choked “Ah-!” ripping from his throat as he watched the thick bulge of your cock distort his flat stomach.

“Fuck—too big—” he gasped, but his walls clenched greedily around every inch.

You gripped his hips harder and started a brutal rhythm, hips snapping forward so the wet slap of skin filled the room. Each thrust made his belly bulge obscenely, the head of your cock pressing visibly against his insides. 

“Look at that,” you growled, voice low and rough. “Your body already knows what it wants. Greedy little womb sucking me in.”

Sae’s head fell forward, but you tangled a hand in his hair and yanked it back up, forcing him to keep watching. “Don’t look away. Watch how perfectly you take me.”

He moaned helplessly as you changed the angle, grinding against that sensitive spot inside him with every stroke. Slick poured down his thighs, dripping onto the bed. 

“Sl-slower… please—ah!” His plea broke into a sharp cry when you reached around and began rubbing his folds in time with your thrusts.

“No. You’re going to cum just like this watching yourself get bred.” You bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking a dark mark into his skin. “Imagine how much bigger this belly will get when it’s actually full of my pups.”

Sae’s legs shook violently. A fresh wave of heat made his pussy spasm hard around you. “I-I can’t… I’ll lose my speed- my abs fuck-!”

“You’ll look even better,” you countered, voice dark with promise. You slid both hands up to cup his chest, pinching his nipples until they pebbled. “These will get so sensitive. Swollen and leaking for me every time I touch you.”

That pushed him over the edge.

Sae came with a broken sob, pussy gushing around your cock, walls milking you desperately. His eyes rolled back for a second before he forced them open again, mesmerized by the sight of his own ruined expression and the constant bulge in his stomach.

You didn’t stop.

You pulled out just long enough to spin him around, so he was facing you and his legs wrapped around your waist. Then you drove back inside even deeper like this you could see his tear-streaked face, his swollen lips and the way his pussy stretched obscenely around your thick shaft.

That was a sight to make even a priest give in “Again,” you ordered. “Beg me properly this time.”

Sae’s pride was hanging by a thread. His voice came out hoarse and broken between moans. “Breed me… please fill me until I’m dripping for days… I want your pups so bad g-give me as many as you want-t I’ll-I'll carry them all”

Your knot began to swell, catching on his rim with every thrust. Sae’s eyes widened in panic and lust.

“Hn~ It’s too much your knot ah~!”

You slammed in one final time, forcing the thick knot all the way to his womb hearing the pop you knew it locked. Sae screamed in pleasure as the first powerful spurt of cum flooded his womb. You kept grinding, pumping load after load into him until his belly visibly rounded out, swollen and taut.

You rocked into him slowly, drawing out the pleasure. Sae’s hands clutched at your back, nails digging in as another orgasm tore through him.

By the time your knot deflated and you started a second round, Sae was completely lost to the heat. He wrapped his legs around your waist, pulling you deeper, whispering filthy, broken fantasies between gasps:

“Gonna be so full… round every season… everyone will know you fucked me pregnant… I don’t care just keep breeding me please please-”

You gave him everything he begged for leaving him more bloated and blissed out than the last. His once-flat stomach now looked softly rounded from the sheer amount of cum you’d pumped into him. 

His pussy was puffy, red, and leaking steadily. Only when his heat finally dulled into exhausted satisfaction did you collapse beside him, pulling his limp body into your arms.

---

A year later

The house was louder now. Twin cries echoed from the nursery as you finished warming two bottles. You walked in to find Sae already there, rocking one of the babies against his chest while the other fussed in the crib.

He looked more angelic if that was even possible. His body had changed after the twins: hips a little wider (ass so much more biteable), a faint line of stretch marks across his lower belly, and a small pouch remained still. His abs were slowly coming back but not as chiseled as before.

And yet, he had never looked more beautiful to you.

“Give it here,” Sae said without looking up, voice tired but warm. You handed him the second bottle and watched as he settled both twins-  a boy and a girl  -in his arms with practiced ease. The little girl (who had inherited Sae’s eyes) latched onto the bottle immediately, while the boy kicked happily.

You stepped behind him, arms sliding around his waist. Your hands settled over the soft curve of his stomach the same place you had rubbed almost religiously throughout his pregnancy. 

“Still worried about being ‘fat and slow’?” you murmured against his neck, pressing a kiss there.

Sae let out a quiet huff, but leaned back into you. “I lost three seconds off my sprint time this week. My coach is losing his mind.” He paused as the boy made a small cooing sound. 

A rare, gentle smile crossed his face. “But… they’re worth it.” He turned his head slightly to look at you, cheeks faintly pink.

“I thought I’d regret it. That I’d look in the mirror and hate what pregnancy did to my body so much so i couldn't even image being pregnant.” He glanced down at the twins, then back at you. “Instead I catch myself staring at myself thinking you have blessed me." 

Your chest tightened with affection. You kissed the side of his head, then leaned down to kiss the top of each baby’s head.

“You’re still the best on the field, Sae. And you’re an even better dad.” Your hand rubbed slow circles over his belly again. “This body carried our kids. I love every single change.”

Sae’s ears turned red. He pretended to be focused on feeding the twins, but you caught the shy little smile he tried to hide.

“…Idiot,” he muttered fondly. “Stop saying embarrassing things while I’m holding them.”

The little girl made a happy gurgle, reaching up to pat Sae’s cheek with a tiny hand. His expression melted completely.

“That supposed to scare me?” He rasped, smirking even with metal digging into his skin. You dragged the warm barrel slowly down his body: over his collarbone, across his blood-stained chest, down the hard ridges of his abs until it rested against the growing bulge in his pants.

“You’ve been a real fucking brat lately, Toji,” You growled. “Running your mouth, disobeying orders, acting like I won’t put you in your place. By the time I’m done, you’re gonna be crying for me to go easy on you.”

You stepped back just enough to free your cock which to the surprise of neither of you was already hard from the adrenaline and the sight of him like this defiant, and entirely too smug.

“On your knees.”

Toji scoffed, but dropped anyway, knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. The second your cock pushed past his lips he took you in deep, eyes locked on yours the entire time. That infuriating smirk was still there, even with his mouth stretched around your thick length.

You groaned at the wet heat, then spun the revolver’s cylinder with a loud click-click-click. You pressed the cold muzzle firmly to his forehead between lazy thrusts into his throat.

“Keep looking at me like that and I might just test my luck,” You warned, fucking his face harder. “You feel that? One pull and your brains paint the wall while my cock’s still down your throat.”

Toji moaned around you, your sick threat clearly turning him on, the vibration shooting straight to your balls. He didn’t look away though if anything, the challenge in his eyes sharpened as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder as if daring you.

You gripped his messy hair tighter and fucked harder into his throat. “Brat,” You hissed, voice rough with arousal. “We’re just getting started.”

You fucked his throat with punishing strokes, the revolver’s muzzle never leaving his forehead. Every time you bottomed out, his nose pressed against your pelvis and his throat convulsed around you. Toji’s eyes watered but he refused to break eye contact, that cocky glint still burning even as spit dripped down his chin.

You spun the cylinder again and laughed low.

“Still smirking? Even with my cock down your throat and a gun to your head?” You pulled out abruptly, strings of spit connecting his swollen lips to your cock. Before he could catch his breath, you pressed the warm barrel of the revolver between his lips, forcing it into his mouth.

“Suck.”

Toji obeyed with a muffled groan, hollowing his cheeks around the steel while staring straight up at you. The sight of the dangerous assassin sucking on your gun like a cock made heat flare in your gut. You rocked the barrel slowly in and out of his mouth, letting him taste the metal while you stroked yourself right in front of his face.

After a few moments you pulled the gun free with a wet pop and immediately shoved your cock back down his throat in one smooth thrust.

“Greedy fucking brat,” You growled and hauled him up. You dropped onto the old couch and dragged Toji between your legs. “Hands on my thighs. Don’t move them.”

Toji smirked, lips shiny. “You really think I need-”

You clicked the safety off and pressed the muzzle under his jaw again, tilting his head up. “I said don’t move.”

He stayed quiet after that, but his eyes still held annoyance. You grabbed the bottle of lube from the table top and poured a generous amount onto your fingers. Without warning, you reached behind him and pushed two thick fingers straight into his hole. Toji grunted, his back tensing, but he kept his hands on your thighs like ordered.

“Fuck…” He hissed through gritted teeth.

You scissored him open roughly, curling your fingers deep while the revolver stayed pressed under his jaw. His cock twitched hard against his stomach as you worked him.

“Thought you didn’t need prep, big guy?” You mocked, adding a third finger and stretching him wider. The wet, filthy sounds of lube and his greedy hole filled the room. “Yet you already look like you are about to die from 3 fingers"

Toji’s breath hitched. He tried to rock back onto your hand, but you clicked the safety again deliberately making him freeze.

You kept finger-fucking him mercilessly, brushing his prostate with every thrust until his thighs started shaking and low, broken groans slipped out despite his efforts to stay quiet.

By the time you added a fourth finger, Toji’s head had fallen forward against your shoulder, panting hotly against your neck. His hole was slick, stretched, and fluttering greedily around your fingers.

“Enough,” You said, pulling your fingers out. “Get up here and ride me. Slowly though.”

Toji straddled your lap, knees sinking into the couch on either side of your hips. His usual smirk was still there, but it was shaky now, his breathing ragged.

He lowered himself onto your cock, inch by inch, until his ass was flush against your thighs. A deep guttural groan tore from his chest at the full stretch.

The second he tried to slam down harder and take control, you pressed the revolver firmly against his temple.

“Slow!” You warned, voice dark. “You don’t get to fuck yourself until I say so. Understand?”

Toji’s jaw clenched, but he obeyed rolling his hips in slow, deep circles, taking every inch of you while the gun stayed glued to his head.

You let him ride you like that for a while, watching the assassin tremble and fight to keep his sanity while you controlled the pace with the threat of the gun.

Every time he tried to speed up, you clicked the safety and forced him to stop, making him whimper around the barrel when you eventually shoved it between his lips again.

By the time you finally gripped his hips and started thrusting up hard into his perfectly prepped hole, Toji was drooling messily around the gun, eyes glassy, pride crumbling fast.

“Fuck- please…” he mumbled desperately around the steel, voice completely wrecked. “Let me cum… I’ll be good- I swear”

“That’s more like it.”

You gripped Toji’s hips with bruising force and slammed up into him, burying your cock to the hilt in one brutal thrust. His prepped hole took every inch easily now, hot and slick around you, but the stretch still pulled a wrecked groan from deep in his chest.

“Fuuuck-” Toji’s head snapped back, mouth open around the revolver barrel you shoved between his lips again. His hands clutched at your shoulders, nails digging in as you set a merciless pace, fucking up into him like you were trying to split him open.

Every powerful snap of your hips made his thick cock slap wetly against his abs, smearing precum everywhere. The gun made it's way to his mouth, your thumb resting dangerously close to the trigger guard.

“Eyes on me,” You growled, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “Look at who’s fucking that attitude out of you.”

Toji tried. His green eyes were glassy and unfocused. He hollowed his cheeks around the barrel and sucked on it mindlessly, drool running down his chin and onto him while you railed him.

You laughed darkly and flipped him over without pulling out, bending him over the arm of the couch. His ass was up, back arched, and you drove back in even harder from behind. The new angle made him choke on the gun as you hammered his prostate relentlessly.

You reached around and wrapped your hand around his leaking cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts. “This dick is throbbing. You love getting used like this, don’t you?”

Toji moaned loudly around the steel in his mouth, pushing back to meet every thrust despite the gun at his head. You fucked him faster, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the safehouse along with his muffled, broken noises.

You pulled the gun from his mouth just long enough to hear him gasp.

“Beg,” You demanded, slowing your hips to a torturous grind.

“Shit- please… harder,” He rasped, voice completely shot. “Fuck me harder- I need it fuck, I’m your slut, just don’t stop-”

You rewarded him by pounding him even deeper, the couch creaking dangerously under the force. You threw the gun somewhere hearing it clatter against the ground and reached down to spread his cheeks wider, watching your cock disappear into his greedy hole over and over.

Toji’s thighs started shaking. His moans turned into desperate, whimpering cries as you stroked him faster.

“You gonna cum again for me?” You taunted, angling your thrusts to abuse his prostate. “Go on. Cum for me like the pathetic brat you are.”

Toji came with a loud, guttural shout, his hole clamping down around your cock like a vice as thick ropes of cum splattered across the couch. His whole massive body convulsed, muscles flexing and trembling while you kept fucking him through it without mercy.

You pulled out, spun him onto his back again, threw his legs over your shoulders, and slid back inside in one smooth motion. The new position let you fold him in half fucking him even deeper.

“Look at you,” You cooed, pounding him into the cushions. “Big bad Toji Fushiguro, covered in blood and cum, getting his hole wrecked.”

Toji’s eyes rolled back, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners as you used him mercilessly.

You buried yourself to the hilt and came hard, flooding his insides with a low groan. Even after you finished, you kept the gun pressed to his skin, grinding slowly through the aftershocks while he twitched and whimpered beneath you.

Toji was a complete mess- drooling, cum leaking from his abused hole, chest heaving, eyes hazy and submissive at last.

You leaned down and kissed his scarred lips, voice low and satisfied.

He watches you move with a calm confidence and his pussy actually pulses. Every time you walk into a room, the air feels thicker, and he can feel that familiar, humiliating heat pooling between his legs, his pussy getting ridiculously wet from just the sight of you.

During hunts, you offer brief commendations with a hand on his shoulder or a simple good work on that trap that sends jolts of electricity straight down his spine.

You drink heavily and smoke long into the night, but unlike John, you carry your strength with a lazy grace that never turns into anger. Seeing you laugh with Bobby makes him crave the heated stability.

Sometimes, Dean finds himself staring, unable to look away from the way your jeans, staring against the heavy, unmistakable bulge of your cock, a silent promise of the size he knows he needs.

The darkness of the room was suffocating, thick with the scent of old wood and Dean’s own frantic arousal. He lay sprawled on the mattress, his body trembling with a need so sharp it felt like a physical wound. His fingers were slick, sliding deep into his needy pussy with a desperate friction, while his other hand slapped hard against his own jaw, trying to sting himself into silence.

“Fuck — please — ” he mewled a tiny sound, before swallowing it back.

Every time a quiet, broken moan escaped his lips, he froze, heart hammering against his ribs — absolutely terrified that Sam or Bobby would hear the sound of him unravelling late at night.

Then, the fantasy took over, pulling him under like a tide. Suddenly, he wasn’t alone. The scent of leather and stale smoke overwhelmed his scenes, while all he felt was the unyielding weight of you crushing him into the cushions. His legs were shoved wide and his back curved as you hovered over him.

“That’s it, Dean,” your voice rumbled in his ear, low and commanding. “Take it all. You’re so fucking greedy for it, aren’t ya?”

Then, the phantom sensation of your cock hit him thick, hot, and unyielding, driving straight into his messy, overstimulated pussy. He let out a choked sob real-time, his hips jerking upwards to meet the imagined thrusts.

“God, you’re so wet f’me,” you murmured, voice a rough vibration against his skin. “Wrap those legs around me, take it all, Dean — show me how much you want it —”

His fantasy seemed to reach its peak in tempo, followed by a white-hot sensation that sent Dean over the edge.

Back straining off the sheets, he buckled hard as he orgasms — a silent, shaking mess in the dark. He buried his pace into the pillow to muffle the desperate, broken cries of your name, his heart was a frantic patter against his ribs.

“Fuck — you —,” he gasped with a trembling whisper as he lay there in the cooling dark, trembling and spent from the illusory feeling of your weight. That soothing voice was still echoing in his mind, leaving him more desperate for the real thing than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Minutes later, Dean stumbled towards the bathroom, his legs feeling like jelly and his skin still flushed from the friction. He cleaned himself up with the cool water doing little to dampen the remaining pleasurable sensation of you. He felt wrecked, a shivering version of himself, desperately trying to pull his composure back together before the sun came up.

Thirsty and feeling the post orgasmic ache in his core, he crept down towards the kitchen, hoping to grab a glass of water without making a sound. But as he rounded the corner, the sight of you stopped him dead in his tracks.

You were sitting on the couch, a half finished whiskey in your hand, a stack of lore books spread out on the coffee table in front of you. The low light of the lamp casting long shadows across your face, making you look even more formidable, even more grounded.

“Can’t sleep?”

The question came in that same coarse rumble that had been haunting his dreams only minutes before. Dean felt his knees actually weaken — a traitorous heat instantly blooming at his clit as if he hadn’t just finished coming to the thought of you. He had to physically grip the doorframe to keep from swaying.

“Nah,” he managed, forcing his voice to stay steady, though it came out a fraction higher than usual. He plastered on his best ‘tough guy’ nonchalance, leaning against the wall with a practise ease that felt entirely fake, “Just… thirsty. Brain won’t shut up, ya know?”

He kept his eyes averted, terrified that if he looked at you too long, he’d lose his fucking mind. But, he could feel the heat of your gaze on him, a heavy masculine weight that made his skin prickle. He focused intensely on a random spot on the floor.

“I hear that,” you replied before taking a slow sip of your drink, the movement effortless. “Sometimes the world’s too loud, even when it’s quiet.”

Dean nodded, a very jerky and unconvincing movement. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

He finally risked a singular glance at you, and his heart nearly stopped. You were looking at him, your expression unreadable, but your eyes sharp. It’s as if you could see right through his ‘tough guy’ facade and straight into the trembling mess.

You set the beer down, your gaze softening with a genuine, steady warmth that only makes his heart hammer harder. “What’s going on, Dean?” you ask, voice dropping into a comforting register. “You know you can talk to me about anything, sport. Whatever’s on your mind — I’ll help.”

Sport.

The term of casual, masculine endearment hits him like a physical blow, that makes his pussy throb with a sudden, shameful ache.

How the fuck am I supposed to tell you that?

He wants to scream it. He wants to grab the front of your shirt, pull your frame down until your lips are inches from his and tell you that the only thing keeping him sane is the desperate, pulsing need to feel you inside him. He doesn’t want you to just be a listening ear; he wants you to act on your words firmly too.

Ugh, fuck.

He needs your calloused hands pinning his wrists or your thick fingers stretching him wide till he sobs — or better yet, your heavy cock driving into his weeping pussy till his brain’s fucking empty.

The ache is getting unbearable by each grovelling minute. It’s a heavy, wet throb that him want to sink to his knees right there on the kitchen linoleum. He needs the pressure, the weight, the stable masculinity. 

He needs you to stop being his “mentor” and start being the person who ruins him.

“Just… thinking about the case,” Dean lies, the words feeling like ash in his mouth.

He forces a lopsided, cocky grin — the kind he’s used a thousand times to hide the fact that he’s falling apart. Unfortunately his eyes betray him. Pining green lingers a second too long on the way your throat moves when you swallow or the way your large hands were splayed upon the case studies.

“The case can wait ‘til morning, Dean. You look like you’re wound tighter than a guitar string.” You chuckle while gesturing to the empty spot on the couch beside you, “Sit, drink your water — you’re pacing like a caged animal.”

Dean hesitates, his heart performing a frantic drumroll against his ribs. He should go back to his room, back to the safety of his blankets and his lonely aching silence. 

But the pull of your presence is too fucking strong.

With stiff movements, he moves towards the couch, trying to mask the way his thighs rub together with every step. He sinks into the cushion beside you, careful to leave a respectful distance — though every instinct in his body is screaming at him to close the gap.

“Yeah, well, the Winchester brain never really shuts off right?” he says, as he takes some heavy sips of his water.

As he drinks, he can’t help — he really can’t help — but steal a glance at you.

Composed and steady, you’re leaning back with the lamp light catching the rugged lines of your face. You look so damn comfortable, so entirely in control of yourself, while he feels like he’s one second away from shattering.

The silence between you stretches thick with everything he isn’t saying. He sets the glass down, his knuckles white as he grips the cushion’s edge. He’s trying to play it cool, trying to be the legendary hunter, but the heat radiating from your body is making it impossible to focus on anything but the proximity of your thigh to his.

“You’re a terrible liar, Dean,” you say softly, not even looking up from your book, though the corner of your mouth twitches with a knowing smirk,

He stiffens, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah? And since when did you become an expert on me?”

“Since you started looking at me like you’re starving — and I haven’t even fed you yet?”

The sheer audacity of the comment leaves him breathless. Dean opens his mouth to snap back a witty retort, but the words die in his throat. 

You don’t even look up from the page as you reach out, your large hand landing on his thigh. You don’t move it far, but the stable heat was enough to make his breath hitch. His reaction is instinctive. His legs don’t move nor straddle; they widen, his knees falling open in a silent, desperate invitation that he can’t control.

Then, your hand shifts.

Your fingers slide upward, moving with a terrifying, calm precision. Because he was so frantic to get back to bed, he hadn't even pulled his boxers back up, leaving himself completely exposed to the cool air and your sudden touch.

Your thick fingers find the slick heat of his bare pussy, grazing a stripe of his labia, your blunt fingertips catching on the sensitive flesh. Dean lets out a strangled, high pitched gasp, his entire body jolting as if he’d been struck by lightning. He tries to pull his legs back together — to hide the evidence of his shame — but your hand is a heavy anchor, holding him wide and vulnerable.

You finally shift your gaze from the book, your eyes dark and knowing as they land on his flushed, trembling face. You don't pull your hand away; instead, you press a little deeper, your finger curling slightly into his wetness.

"You're soaking," you murmur, your voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrates right through him. A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Naughty boy, been watching some porn late at night?"

"I — it's not — " Dean stammers, his cocky facade completely demolished. He's staring at you, his eyes wide and glazed with terror and lust. He looks like a man caught red-handed, his chest heaving as he tries to find a lie that doesn't sound pathetic.

"It's not — it's not like that," he breathes, though the way his hips instinctively tilt toward your hand tells a completely different story.

You let out a low chuckle, finally closing the book and setting it aside. You don't pull your hand back; instead, you increase the pressure, your thumb beginning to grind slow, heavy circles against his clit, catching on the wetness he's been producing all night.

"Then what is it, Dean?" you demand, your voice dropping an octave, becoming that commanding tone that makes his insides melt. "Because you're dripping all over my hand, and you're shaking like you're waiting for me to do something about it?"

Dean can't even find the breath to argue. His head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a broken, needy whine. The sensation of your thumb grinding against his clit is too much; it’s the exact friction he’d been trying to mimic with his own fingers in the dark, but your hand is larger, heavier, and infinitely more authoritative.

"Please —" he whimpers, the word slipping out before he can censor it. He doesn't even know what he's asking for more pressure, more fingers, or the real thing he just knows the ache in his pussy is screaming for relief.

You lean in closer, your shadow swallowing him whole. The scent of your skin, mixed with the faint aroma of alcohol and tobacco, wraps around him like a physical weight. 

"Please what, Dean?" you murmur against the shell of his ear, your warm breath hot against his skin. "Please what? You want me to stop — or do you want me to show you exactly what you were dreaming about?"

Dean's eyes snap open, glazed and unfocused, as he lets out a shuddering breath. He can't even lie anymore; the truth is written in the way his hips buck weakly against your hand, seeking more of that brutal, grounding pressure.

"Don't stop," he chokes out, his voice a mere thread of sound, stripped of all its usual bravado. "Please —  don't stop."

You grin, a slow, predatory curve of your lips, as you slide a second finger deep into his tight, pulsing heat. The sudden fullness makes him cry out, a sharp, needy sound that echoes in the quiet kitchen, but you don't let him recover. You start to move, your fingers working with a rhythmic, punishing pace that drives him straight back toward

You haul him up effortlessly, dragging his body until he's straddling your massive thigh, his back pressed flush against your chest. Your left hand fists in his hair before sliding down to grip his jaw, tilting his face at a sharp angle. You press your lips to his in a bruising, demanding kiss, then abruptly yank his head to the side, holding him there so he can feel your breath against his ear.

"Look at you," you murmur, your voice a controlled, gravelly purr. "You're fucking soaking, Dean. Every time I move my fingers, you squelch. Tell me truthfully, have you been touching yourself like this all night?”

Dean swallows hard, his throat working against your grip. "No," he gasps out, the lie tasting bitter even as his hips betray him by grinding harder against your palm. "Just, some lousy porn — nothing else."

You don't call him out immediately.

Instead, you let the silence stretch, the only sound is the wet, rhythmic slap of your fingers working inside him. In the corner of the room, Dean's eyes catch your reflection in the dusty mirror. The sight of himself completely exposed, helpless, and being handled like a toy sends a fresh wave of shame and arousal crashing through him. He knows he's lying; he knows you can see every tremor in his body.

But he can't stop looking. His gaze drops down the mirror's reflection, trailing past your broad shoulder to where your hand is buried between his thighs. He watches as your fingers disappear into his slick folds, working with a ruthless efficiency that makes his vision blur.

In the mirror, he sees your thumb hook under the sensitive edge of his flesh, pulling his labia wide to expose the raw, swollen pink of his entrance.

"Look at that," you murmur against his ear, your breath hot enough to scald. "Look how fucking open you are for me. Look at how you're begging for it."

Dean's breath hitches as he stares at the reflection. Seeing it from the outside — seeing how your thick fingers stretch him apart — how his own pussy glistens and pulses around your knuckles makes the reality of his degradation hit him like a freight train.

"Fuck," he chokes out, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as his hips buck involuntarily. "Fuck, please — please!"

"Shhh, easy now, Dean," you coo, your voice dripping with that infuriatingly calm, patronising affection. You sound less like a lover and more like someone soothing a needy puppy — which only makes his blood boil and his pussy clench tighter around your knuckles. "There we go. Just let it happen, don't fight it."

You pick up the pace, your fingers working with a cruel, precise rhythm that targets every nerve ending he has. Dean's hips buck violently against your thigh, his back arching until his spine cracks audibly.

A wrecked, high pitched keen tears from his throat as his orgasm hits sudden and overwhelming. His body shudders uncontrollably as he spills over your fingers, his vision swimming behind closed eyelids.

But you don't slow down. You don't let him collapse into the afterglow. The moment his tremors begin to subside, you immediately resume the punishing stroke.

Dean gasps, his eyes snapping open in genuine shock.

"Wait fuck no, I can't — " His voice breaks as he glances back at you over his shoulder, his expression one of pure bewilderment.

His brain is short circuiting; he knows he's already come multiple times tonight, alone in his bed, exhausted and desperate. His body should be spent, his nerves fried, but the way you're touching him the overwhelming authority of your hand is forcing new waves of arousal through him that shouldn't exist.

"What's wrong, champ?" you murmur, your thumb finding that sensitive spot again with unerring accuracy. You tighten your grip on his jaw, forcing him to meet your amused gaze. "Already spent? After all that lying?"

"I'm — I'm already —" he stammers, his hips jerking involuntarily as your thumb finds that perfect, swollen nerve again. "I can't — I'm already fucking empty, I swear to God — "

"Empty?" you interrupt, your chuckle dangerously as you lean closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "You don't know shit about being empty, Dean. You're just sensitive. Your body is still screaming for more."

You increase the pressure, your fingers sliding deeper, stretching him wider with each thrust. You're working him open, your blunt fingertips slick with his arousal as you relentlessly massage the walls of his pussy.

"If you want the real thing tonight, you need to be ready for it," you murmur, your voice dropping into something darker, more utilitarian. "You need to be loose — you need to be fucking dripping so I can slide right in without tearing you apart. Consider this an investment."

Dean's head lolls back against your shoulder, his breathing coming in shallow, confused pants. "An investment? What the fuck are you — "

His words die in his throat when he shifts slightly, his ass grinding against your thigh.

In that movement, he feels it: the unmistakable, rock hard ridge of your cock pressing through the denim of your jeans, poking insistently against the sensitive cleft of his ass. The heat of it radiates through his clothes, a promise of something far more devastating than your fingers.

The realisation hits him like a physical blow. You weren't just tormenting him for sport; you weren't just being cruel. You were prepping him. Every punishing stroke, every forced climax, every stretch of his labia had been calculated to make his body surrender completely to what was coming next.

"Oh," he breathes, the syllable more of a whimper than a confession. His cock throbs painfully against his thigh, slick with the evidence of his own undoing, while the hard bulge behind him promises a different kind of fullness entirely.

"Oh," he breathes again, his eyes blown wide as they fix on your reflection in the mirror, seeing the way your erection strains against your jeans right where his ass meets your thigh. "Oh god," he chokes out, his hips stuttering in a helpless attempt to both escape and press closer to that promise of hardness.

"I'll pull one or two more orgasms out of you, Dean," you state plainly, your tone as matter of fact as if you were discussing the weather. "Maybe three, if you're as good as I think you are."

"No — fuck you, I can't — " Dean protests, his voice cracking as he tries to twist away from your relentless fingers. But there is nowhere to go.

Your body is a wall behind him, and your hand on his jaw is an iron vise that keeps him exactly where you want him. He can only squirm, his hips bucking uselessly against your thigh in a desperate, futile attempt to regain some semblance of control.

Smack!

The sound of your palm connecting with his jaw is sharp and startling in the quiet room. It isn't enough to hurt him, but it's firm enough to shock the protest right out of his lungs.

You hold his face steady, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Listen to me, Dean. What you see in those stupid fucking porn videos — that's all bullshit. Real sex requires preparation — and I'm the one teaching you how to actually handle it. You need to learn how to take this."

You lean in closer, your lips grazing his earlobe while your fingers work deeper, stretching his slick walls with increasing urgency. "Now, you're going to be a good boy and accept this. Say it, say you'll take whatever I give you."

"I — I won't —" Dean starts to protest, but you tighten your grip on his jaw, applying just enough pressure to remind him who holds the power here.

"Wrong answer," you command, your voice dropping to that stern register that leaves no room for argument. "I want to hear you say it properly, through every one of those pathetic little gasps."

Dean's body betrays him completely. His hips roll forward in a desperate, involuntary search for friction as your fingers stretch him to his limit. A broken, strangled noise escapes his throat as he finally surrenders to the authority in your voice.

"I'll — fuck — I'll take it," he manages to choke out, his words punctuated by sharp, hitched gasps that leave him panting. "I'll take — whatever you give me."

"Good boy," you murmur, the praise dripping with that same patronising satisfaction. You give his jaw one last firm squeeze before releasing him, though you don't pull away.

Instead, you let your hand slide down from his face to rest heavily on his chest, feeling the frantic, rabbit quick hammering of his heart beneath his ribs.

"See?" you whisper, your breath hot against his neck. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now we know you're listening."

The room falls into a heavy, charged silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Dean's breathing. His body has finally gone boneless against you, his muscles twitching with the aftershocks of the orgasm you forced out of him. He drips freely, sending warm rivulets of cum down your thigh.

You withdraw your fingers slowly, the wet sound of your exit making him whimper. Without hesitation, you take those slick, swollen fingers and press them against his mouth. 

He doesn't resist, leaning into the touch, his eyes rolling back as he begins to suckle on your fingers — tasting the salty, unmistakable evidence of himself. He heaves against your chest, his mouth working around your knuckles with a desperate, unconscious hunger, seeking comfort in the very thing that just broke him.

While he is momentarily occupied, lost in that haze of shame and sensory overload, you give him a moment to catch his breath against your shoulder. Your fingers slip free from his mouth, leaving him panting and dazed, but you don't release your hold on his waist. You keep him pinned against you, anchoring him while you shift to the next phase of your plan.

With one hand still possessively wrapped around his middle, you reach down with the other. Your movements are efficient, practiced, and utterly calm as you unbuckle your belt with a metallic click that sounds deafening in the quiet room.

You work the zipper down, and then, with a gradual motion, you free your aching cock from your jeans.

Dean's breath hitches audibly as he feels the sudden change in temperature and weight beneath him. He shifts his hips slightly, and his eyes go wide as he sees the thick size of you lying just beneath his thighs.

The heat coming off your cock is staggering, a physical force that makes his entire lower body tremble. His gaze drops to where your cock presses against his swollen pussy, already wet with the mess of his own orgasms.

"Oh god —" he murmurs, his voice barely a thread of sound, thick with awe and terror. "It's so —  it's so big —"

He can feel the sheer girth of you spreading his folds apart even before you make contact. He's terrified of how much he wants it, terrified of how perfectly his body seems to be reaching for you despite the exhaustion still clinging to his limbs.

As you prepare to make your move, your hand dips into your pocket. The crinkle of plastic fills the space between you as you tear open a sachet.

Dean catches the sound, his eyes darting to the packet in your hand. A weak, self deprecating laugh escapes his lips — a pathetic attempt to reclaim some dignity through humor.

"You — you always carry lube around with you?" he manages to wheeze out, trying to sound teasing when his voice is clearly trembling.

"I was going to go out to the bar tonight," you reply, your tone casual, and utterly unbothered by his attempt at levity. "But then I heard your pretty little whines coming down the hallway." You let out a dark chuckle at the way his face instantly floods with a deep, mortified crimson. "Figured I'd come see what all the noise was about instead."

The implication hangs heavy in the air between you.

You begin to lather the sweet scented slick over your cock, the clear gel catching the dim light as you coat yourself from base to tip. Then, with deliberate slowness, you smear the rest over his dripping labia, ensuring every inch of his entrance is glistening and ready.

Even after the work you've put in, you can feel the resistance beneath your touch; despite the lube and his arousal, his body is still coiled tight.

"Your walls are quite thin, Dean," you murmur, watching how his pupils dilate at the implication.

His heart hammers against your chest. The realisation that you've been listening to him every desperate moan, every wet slap of his own hand against his thighs every single night since you arrived here threatens to overwhelm him. But there is no room for shame now.

His entire universe has shrunk down to the point of contact between his pussy and the massive heat between your cock and his pussy. He's too far gone, too consumed by the physical presence of you to even process the humiliation of being caught.

So, he gives a tentative, desperate grind, his hips rolling against your cock in a silent plea for friction.

You glance down at the sight of him in your lap, watching how his hips stutter against you. His desperate self is thinking exactly the right way. You can see it in the way he arches, seeking that contact, begging for the fullness he knows is coming. Good. You'll let him have this — you'll let him work for it, getting a job out of him first, letting him ride that slick heat until he's begging for mercy.

But you aren't planning on being gentle when you finally decide to fuck him mean. You've spent the last hour preparing him, stretching him, and breaking his resistance, all so you can fuck him without hesitation.

"Slow down, Dean. I told you we're still prepping."

You grip his hips with bruising force, your fingers digging into the soft flesh above his pelvic bones to anchor him.

However, you don't let him sink down. You simply hold him just at the threshold, forcing him to hover there, suspended between desperate need and the agonising promise of fullness.

"But please — " Dean gasps, his voice breaking as he tries to push downward, his hips stuttering in an involuntary attempt to impale himself on your cock. "I need — I need you inside — fuck, please."

"I said slow," you growl, your voice dropping into that stern tone that brooks no argument. "You're still too tight. If I push you now, you'll tear, and I'm not interested in hearing you scream from pain instead of pleasure."

It's a lie, and his younger, desperate mind knows exactly what you're doing, but he's too far gone to care about the deception. He can feel the truth in the way your cock pulses against his pussy, teasing the very edge of his folds without giving him the release he's starving for.

"I'm not fucking you yet," you murmur, your breath hot against the nape of his neck as you begin to move him. "We're going to work this friction until you're completely slick, until you're begging me to ruin you."

Instead of pushing inside, you begin to guide his hips in a slow, punishing grind. You force him to slide his pussy along the entire length of your cock, but only on the outside.

You make sure his clit catches repeatedly against the sensitive ridge of you, the friction sending sparks of electricity straight to his brain. The wet, squelching sound of your cock sliding between his labia fills the room as fills the space between your bodies.

Every time he grinds down, you make sure he feels the full, unforgiving texture of your cock sliding between, never letting him slip past the entrance

You keep him exactly where you want him: hovering on the precipice of ecstasy, his pussy’s stretched taut and glistening with lube as it rubs relentlessly against you.

"Please, please, please —" Dean whines, his head tossing back against your shoulder as his hips stutter in a desperate rhythm. "It's — it's too much, I can't — "

"You can, and you will," you cut him off, your grip tightening on his hips to control the pace. "Feel that? That's what happens when you don't know how to prepare yourself properly."

You deliberately angle your cock so that each downward roll of his hips forces his clit to scrape directly against the edge beneath your cock's head. 

"Please — fuck, please just fuck me already," Dean sobs, his voice breaking into something raw and pathetic. His hips are working in frantic, uncoordinated jerks, trying to force his way down, but your hands are like iron shackles around his pelvic bones.

You move him with effortless, terrifying strength, sliding his pussy up and down your cock as if he weighs nothing at all, controlling every millimetre of friction.

"Shhh, easy, sport. Don't get ahead of yourself," you coo, pressing tender kisses to his sweat slicked temples.

You sound like a guardian angel soothing a frightened soul, but internally, you're scoffing at how goddamn easy this is. His body is responding to every single movement with desperate, unguarded need; his pussy is practically begging for the invasion, slick and pliant under your expert torment.

"I can't — I'm gonna — " he gasps, his entire body trembling as he teeters on the razor's edge of another orgasm, his breath coming in short, broken whimpers. His hips stutter helplessly against you, his pussy already raw from the relentless grinding — each movement sending fresh waves of overstimulation through his already fried nerves.

"I'm gonna fuck, I'm gonna cum —"

"Not yet," you murmur against his ear, your voice dripping with mock concern. You maintain that torturous rhythm for three more agonising seconds, pushing him to the absolute brink where his vision blurs and his muscles lock up, before suddenly stopping.

You pull back just enough to feel the cool air hit his slick skin, then you give his ass a cheerful, affectionate pat. "Okay, now you're ready."

Before he can even process the sudden absence of friction, you manhandle him. With practiced ease, you flip him over on the couch, pressing his chest down into the cushions while forcing his hips high into the air. You plant yourself behind him, your knees bracketing his thighs as you spread his ass wide with both hands. The sight is perfect — his pussy all flushed a deep shade, glistening with lube and his own releases, stretched open and waiting.

"There we go," you murmur, the tenderness gone from your voice, replaced by something hungry and predatory. "Now we can actually begin."

You don't pound into him straight away. You don't give him the violent release he's begging for. Instead, you press the broad, blunt head of your cock against his entrance and begin to push, inch by agonising inch.

Dean's entire body jerks as he feels the intrusion. "Ah fuck! Oh god, it's — it's too — " His voice cracks as he realises you aren't rushing. You're taking your time, forcing his tight walls to accommodate your girth one excruciating inch at a time.

You reach forward, threading your fingers through his hair and yanking his head back just enough so you can watch his face. His eyes are blown wide, pupils swallowed by irises as they fix on yours, glassy with tears and overwhelmed by the sensation of being split open.

"Look at me, Dean," you command, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "See how well you take it?"

You push again, a slow, inexorable advance that forces his pussy to stretch to its absolute limit. The wet, sucking sound of your cock sliding past his tight entrance echoes in the quiet room.

Each inch feels like an eternity, each millimetre a new lesson in surrender. His walls flutter around you, clenching desperately as they try to accommodate the invading girth, but you don't give an inch of slack.

"Fuck — it's so big — you're stretching me so much " Dean whines, his fingers clawing into the couch cushions.

His breath comes in ragged, terrified gasps as you continue your methodical assault. The resistance is delicious the way his muscles spasm and fight against the intrusion before finally yielding to the overwhelming pressure.

"That's it, Dean. Take it all," you whisper, your voice devoid of any real sympathy as you drive deeper. "Every single inch."

You watch with clinical fascination as his body reacts to the fullness. The sensation of his tight pussy gripping you is intoxicating — a warm vice that threatens to undo even your own composure.

"I'm — I'm full, oh god — you're so deep — " he chokes out, his back arching involuntarily as you finally bottom out against his cervix.

The teasing is over. The performance of the gentle mentor has been discarded like yesterday's trash, replaced by something far more primal.

You shift your weight, planting your knees wider to brace yourself as you settle into a brutal, relentless position. One hand remains buried in his hair — not to soothe him this time — but to hold his head exactly where you want it tilted back. Just enough so you can watch every expression of his degradation.

"That's enough playing around, sport," you growl, your voice dropping the pretense of sweetness. It's cold now, hard as flint, the voice of someone who has stopped asking permission and started taking what belongs to them. "Time to actually fuck you properly."

Without warning, you drive forward. You don't ease in anymore; you thrust into him with powerful, piston-like paces that send his entire body bunching forwards against the couch cushions.

Each thrust is deep and utterly relentless, forcing the air from his lungs in ragged, broken cries. You're not interested in his comfort anymore; you're only interested in his capacity to endure you.

"Look at this pussy," you sneer, your free hand coming down to slap against his thigh as you drive home again. "So fucking messy. So fucking desperate." You lean down, your mouth close to his ear as you continue the brutal rhythm. "Bobby talks about you like you're some kind of legend, Dean. A grand hunter — the best there is. But right now? All I see is a needy little boy who can't even handle being filled up."

Dean can't even form coherent sentences. He just nods dumbly against the cushion, his brain short circuiting from the intensity of the penetration.

He's lost in the sensation of you stretching him apart, shattering under the onslaught. He can only manage weak, incoherent sounds that dissolve into wet whimpers every time you bottom out against him.

"Listen to those moans, Dean," you chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against his spine as you pick up the pace, your thrusts becoming faster, more punishing. "Goddamn, they're fucking pornographic. If Sam or Bobby heard you right now, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference between you and some R-rated video — you sound exactly like what you are: a fucktoy."

The words hit him harder than the physical impact, but he has no defense.

His body betrays him with every word, his pussy clenching around your cock in desperate, involuntary spasms that only make you want to fuck him harder. You reach around, your palm connecting with the meat of his ass in a sharp, stinging spank that makes him cry out.

"Such a pretty ass, too," you drawl, your voice dripping with cruel amusement as you deliver another smack that leaves a blooming red handprint across his pale skin. "All flushed and shaking for me."

You watch with predatory satisfaction as his body arches involuntarily, his hips stuttering against your cock in a futile attempt to find some kind of rhythm amidst the chaos you're creating.

His tears have begun to spill freely now, dampening the couch cushions as he sobs through each deepening thrust, but you don't stop. If anything, the sight of his breakdown only fuels your hunger.

"God, you're gorgeous when you're breaking like this," you murmur, your grip tightening on his hair to yank his head back further, forcing him to meet your cold, hungry gaze. "So helpless — so fucking perfect."

As you drive yourself into him again, your cock sliding through the slick, messy heat of him, your free hand slides down, fingers tracing the sensitive edge where his pussy meets his ass.

You pause there for a heartbeat, the tip of your cock grinding against his inner walls while your touch lingers dangerously close to his tight, puckered hole.

"You know what I'm thinking about, Dean?" you chuckle darkly, your breath hot against his ear as you watch his hips quiver in terror. "All this mess, all this wetness — it's a shame it's only coming from one hole."

You deliver one last, devastating thrust that makes him cry out in a high, broken note, before leaning down to whisper the promise that makes his entire body freeze.

"Next time, I'm not stopping at your pussy — I'm going to open you up right here, too. I'm going to stretch that pretty little asshole until you can't even remember how to walk straight."

You watch as the threat sinks in, his entire body going rigid beneath you, every muscle locking up in terror at the prospect of what's to come. The way his breath hitches, the way his pussy clenches around you in a desperate, instinctive attempt to protect itself — it's intoxicating.

"That's it, freeze for me," you growl, feeling the delicious tightness of his internal muscles as they spasm around your cock. "Let that fear sink in. Let it make you even wetter."

You don't give him a moment to recover. You resume the mean rhythm, each thrust more punishing than the last, driving him further into the cushions.

You want him to remember this feeling — the feeling of being completely owned, completely exposed — and utterly powerless against the promise of what you'll do to him next.

The final thrusts come with an unrelenting force that leaves Dean completely undone.

His body has reached its absolute limit; his muscles have gone beyond exhaustion into a state of pure, boneless surrender. As you feel your own orgasm building your balls heavy and aching with the need to release you lean down, your voice rough and demanding.

"Should I cum inside you, Dean? Should I fill you up with everything I've got?"

He doesn't even hesitate. His mind is too fried, his body too overwhelmed to consider the consequences. He simply nods dumbly against the cushion — a pathetic, desperate movement that says he doesn't care if he gets pregnant, doesn't care about Bobby, doesn't care about anything except the relief of your cum flooding his abused insides.

"Attaboy," you growl.

With one last, bone-deep lunge, you bottom out against him, cumming in hot, thick pulses that fill him to the brim.

Dean's body convulses beneath you, a final, weak tremor running through his spine as the overwhelming sensation of being filled sends him spiraling past the point of conscious thought. His breathing becomes shallow, erratic gasps before smoothing out into the heavy, unconscious rhythm of someone who has simply given up.

"Fuck, sport," you grumble, a snarky, almost disappointed sound escaping your throat as you feel his strength drain away entirely. He's teetering on the edge of passing out, his limbs going limp as his brain shuts down to escape the sensory overload. "Look at you. Can't even stay awake for the best part."

You feel him slipping away, his forehead pressing limply against the couch cushions. You lean down, your voice dropping into that dark, possessive comfort that promises no escape. "Don't worry, you'll stay right here — I'll continue fucking my fill. After all, this is exactly what you've been craving all these weeks, isn't it?"

You watch with cruel satisfaction as his consciousness finally fractures.

Dean's body goes completely boneless, his face pressed limply into the fabric of the couch, tears still wet on his cheeks. He has passed out, his mind unable to process any more of the exquisite torment you've inflicted.

He lies there in a state of beautiful, broken surrender: face down, ass up, completely exposed to your whims.

Even as he sleeps, you aren't finished.

The rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh fills the room as you continue to claim him, your thrusts methodical and unhurried now that he can no longer fight back or beg for mercy. Poor boy. 

Maybe he should’ve thought twice before desperately chasing after the heat of someone double his age, double his intelligence, and double his lust.

Watching his tired form twitch under your touch brings a surge of dark triumph that no supernatural battle could ever match.

You think to yourself how fortunate you were that you agreed to take on Bobby's request for this particular case; it had promised danger, but it delivered something far more intoxicating. The raw power of breaking a legend, the feel of his flooded pussy clenching around you even in his stupor is undoubtedly the most exhilarating sensation you have ever experienced.

It surpasses every hunt, every demon slain, and every supernatural victory you've ever claimed. As you drive yourself home one last time, you realise that this conquest is the only reward that truly matters.

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hisokamywaifu

$ join taglist

it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that jon snow was the most beautiful man you’d seen, and very much so when he laid with his back arched, black curls spilling over ivory sheets as he gently moaned. his skin, white like snow even amongst the harsh winter, flushes like mad. his cheeks are dusted with peach, and the corner of his eyes bloom with pink in irritation where, had they not been closed shut, you could see his dark eyes pearling over with the beginning of tears.

a sudden roll of your hips snaps his eyes open. your cock has been sitting inside of him for the past hour, still hard and twitching against his sensitive walls. jon wasn’t one for bucking his hips, and being just a little too prideful to simply ask you to fuck him, he had to settle with only the gentle rocking of your hips against his own, with your cock barely pressing where he needed it most and your hands shamelessly exploring his body as you bore that wicked grin on your face he’d become so familiar with. jon knew you understood how badly he needed you, despite how you ignored his attempts to drag your cock deeper into him. he can only assume he must appear pathetically desperate with the way he tried so hard to seem content with what you were giving him, but his cunt ached terribly, and he was certain you were completely aware of that fact. 

gently gripping one of his (notably, fairly thick) thighs, you spread open his legs, pulling one away from where it loosely hung off your hip and out from under the warm blankets. his cunt weeps when you slowly unsheathe your cock from his heat, forcing jon to take his bottom lip between his teeth in order to stop the disappointed sound threatening to fall from his mouth. the moan that builds at the back of his throat feels heavy when your cock once again teases his entrance. the wet, swollen head slips past his folds only to dip back out, and jon swears if he weren’t so clearly under your mercy, he’d be tossing you over to take your cock all for himself, and then maybe it’d be you desperate and pathetic with teary eyes instead.

he hears you chuckle when his pussy flutters around the head of your cock, desperate to pull you back in—it really should have been when he hit his limit, when he should be wringing his legs around your waist and taking what he wanted—what you were willing to give. but he continues to worry at his lip, even when a soft moan slips past, a particular one you don’t get to hear often; as you’ve said many a time, as jon can recall, it’s a pretty sound that blends in heavenly with the crackling of fire and shuffling of linen sheets. which is why when you’ve finally pulled your eyes away from his caving stomach and shaky legs to take his face into a gentle grip, tilting it up and forcing him to look up at you beneath fluttering lashes and stray curls, it doesn’t surprise him when you rub your thumb across his lip, frowning at the sores that have begun to swell before you’re bringing him into a kiss and sweetly licking at the wounds. 

once, out of shame, he’d bitten his lip bloody to silence himself—unbeknownst to it, the sudden fire in your eyes had startled him. your voice hadn’t been anything above a whisper when your lips brushed his, speaking delicately against his split lip, “you mustn't quiet yourself, snow, not with me—i want to hear you.” 

the taste of brass hadn’t deterred you when your tongue darted across his bottom lip, welcoming him into a kiss that swallowed his doubtful words. it was a habit he only just developed when he’d begun these nightly escapades with you, and it was a habit you hoped would break quickly, but you’d clearly underestimated his stubbornness. he’s trying, you can tell, to stop. every now and then however, he can’t seem to help it. only good thing that comes from it is the flush on his cheeks when you kiss him, keeping his mouth occupied and managing to bring soft moans from him, though they’re quickly swept away by your lips.

jon’s hand holds you by the neck, with his thumb dancing over your throat, pulling you away to gasp for breath. he doesn’t bother fighting back the smile that threatens to grow when your lips chase his, desperate to keep his taste on your tongue. his hand slides past your neck to cup at your face, leaving a burning trail where his thumb moves to trace circles on your cheek. he watches you curiously, though his gaze moves often from your lips to your eyes, and then back, before he’s hesitantly looking up at you again, suddenly becoming shy, just as you’re used to. 

after all this time, he still found himself fascinated with your body—the way the corner of your eyes slightly crinkled when you studied him was something he’d paid particular attention to, when your fingers would curl inside of him and you’d look at him with a sense of intrigue as you watched closely for any sign of distress; finding none, that crinkle dissipated, leaving only that hint of a grin on your face as he’d begin to fall apart beneath you. 

your attention to him still made him bashful. you knew his body, arguably even better than he did. memorizing every part of him, you practically had him mapped out. you were gentle, and he appreciated it—your thoughtfulness did not go unnoticed, even if selfishly, jon wished that sometimes you wouldn’t be so gentle, and if he didn’t feel himself going red at the very thought of it, he’d have asked you to ravish him ages ago. you made him forgetful, though in a manner he was grateful for. you’d wring out every little bit of stress in his body, rendering him almost helpless. he was grateful; for the nights he’d fall limp into the warm blankets, his body still shaking and overcome with pleasure, when he could still feel the ghost of your lips peppering kisses across his shoulders and neck long into the next morning. you somehow knew what he desired, all the time, even when he couldn’t find the words to express just what it was he was longing for. he thought surely, you wielded some sort of power he was unfamiliar with—how else could you do what you did—how could anyone? how could you touch him like he was so precious, and yet unravel him so meticulously, churning him into ruins until he could no longer feel his own body, tingling and numb, burning to the touch?

while he still found himself hesitant to touch you, not so much in fear of hurting or losing you, but in a sort of shock, like he wasn’t quite sure you were completely real; just as well, your touch used to be so foreign, until you had bedded him more times than he ever really should have allowed himself. you were a luxury he wasn’t sure he truly deserved, and perhaps if jon thought himself to be a better man, he'd have been able to resist the temptation before he found himself laying beneath you every other night his bed began to lose your warmth. 

at first, jon tried to stay away, figuring you’d be better off with someone more deserving of the care and affection you were so willing to offer. he soon learned you were just as stubborn as he was, and he found that no matter where he looked, you were always there in the corner of his eye, lingering patiently. he couldn’t fight you for long, only because you insisted—maybe, just for one night, he could have you. until one night turned into two nights, and then three, and suddenly you were much more than what kept him warm at night, and believing your words to be true, both of you were in too deep, dancing precariously on the edge of what most would consider (and that neither of you could deny) to be love.

there were particular nights so cold, jon wanted nothing more than to curl up under the fur blankets with you, with your cock nestled within him and your naked bodies pressed close, building warmth between you that would have been suffocating if not for the raging winter lurking precariously just outside his window. and other nights, instead of shy pecks being placed on your cheek before he’d hide under his hair, unable to look you in the eye until his nearing orgasm led him to seek refuge within your kind gaze, jon would sit himself on your lap and ride you until you were the one grasping at the sheets, turning your head to find the little dignity you had left but unable to tear your gaze away from his body—the roll of his hips inadequate, but graceful (though you’d argue everything about jon snow was, in some way, graceful regardless).

his stark features were obvious when under warm lighting, even more so when you pushed his curls back, tracing the shape of his temple down to his jaw and indulging yourself with thumbing along his scar (which always seemed to make him shiver). the sparing glances of men and women alike made you burn with irritation and jealousy—you couldn’t blame them, jon snow was pretty—but above all else, he was yours.

now, as he pulls you forward by the hips, sighing with relief as your hard cock slips back into his pulsing heat, he knows that more than ever. his hungry cunt takes your cock with fervor, squeezing down with each slide across his walls. he fights to keep his eyes open, insistent on watching the way you look down at him with insatiable hunger, but they water when you suddenly thrust deeply into him, forcing them shut. he pulls you close without meaning to, almost moaning just from the feeling of your warm breath against his neck. your nose brushes his warm cheek, and with how close you are now to his parted lips, you can hear the weak moans jon fails to conceal—the sound goes straight to your cock, prompting you to take hold of his hips to bring them higher, allowing his legs to take a comfortable place around your waist. a powerful thrust momentarily knocks the air out of him. his sweet gasp has you shuddering; it’s intense the way jon you open him up, your cock twitching something wild at the angle it lies buried inside of him before you’re sighing, the familiar indication of your hips pausing for just a moment before starting up again and rolling against his own is enough to have him tilting his head back as he allows you to cum inside of him, filling him up with your warm seed. 

jon’s not sure if it's better or worse for him when you remain inside of him after finishing. typically, you don’t have this much time to yourselves anyway, with your nights together usually ending a bit anticlimactically with jon passing out from sheer exhaustion (though it didn’t take him long to figure out this was a deliberate part of your plan after you’d fought with him tooth and nail on the topic of him getting enough sleep, of which he always brushed you off until you’d given up and left his quarters—clearly, you had not truly given up at all). 

jon was not used to this. he feels unusually full, much more full than when you’d simply just finish inside of him, before you’d pull out and wipe him down with a wet cloth soaked in warm water. you lay across him gently, with your weight consciously placed atop of him. when his legs fall weak from your waist, his cunt flutters, and he’s crudely reminded of the distinct weight that sits heavy inside of him. the shape of your cock feels vivid, the sheer girth alone makes his heart skip and his breathing labored. he feels hotter than he should, and even lifting yourself from him does nothing to cool down the heat growing between you. jon is grateful when you slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, pull your cock out. you’re teasing him, he’s sure of it, and he completely understands why when you finally unsheathe yourself, the weight of your cock fully relinquished, leaving him cold and empty. you sit up with a satisfied groan, looking down at him. jon doesn’t flush, but his cunt pulses. his legs are held open with the way you sit between him, and it does nothing to help the terrible emptiness he feels. his swollen clitoris throbs with need, and his poor, aching pussy flutters and tightens around nothing, desperate and needy, beckoning your cock to fill it once more. 

jon involuntarily lets out a groan, one that sounds regretful but sweet. he refuses to look down between you because he knows already what he’ll see, a flushed, swelling cunt, with folds that glisten like morning dew. his stomach caves and his pussy twitches, irritated. your cum’s begun to seep out of him, dripping from his perfect, pretty cunt like cream oozing from a baked good. he can hear himself gasp, and instinctively his legs try, and fail, to close in on themselves. your voice is like velvet when you whisper softly, captivated by the sight of him. 

“are you even aware of how gorgeous you are, jon?” he doesn’t even shake his head anymore when he hears you say those words, his only response being the way his cunt tightens though it is unbeknownst to you, despite the way you raise a brow as if somehow, you just knew.

jon knows you’re not selfish, not like him anyway—or maybe you are selfish, and that’s why once your cock has hardened again, you ease yourself back into him, rocking your hips in a way that jon assumes is only to wring out the squelching sounds of his soaked cunt, and less to provide him comfort (as if he needed the comfort anyway). 

his pussy shamelessly welcomes you in; together, you respectively moan, and jon hopes your head is as fuzzy as his is from this new sensation, overwhelmed, but completely enamored. he feels starved, and he’s not sure he wants the night to end, even after you’ll most certainly make him cum. somehow, your cock feels bigger now inside of him. he’d have thought surely, there must not be any room for you anymore had your cock not so effortlessly slid into him; you don’t even stretch him out, his cunt simply fits around you, holding you firmly in place. he can feel the tears pricking at his eyes again when the head of your cock bumps into a velvety corner, bringing out a strained moan from jon’s throat that even surprises him—it’s a mistake on his part.

you thrust into him, and it frustrates jon how accurately you hit that same corner inside of him. his back arches, the toes of his feet curling where his heels dig into the sheets. the fur blanket loosely hangs off your waist, barely providing either of you any warmth—thankfully, at the moment it’s not what either of you need, and it hasn’t been for quite a while. you’re so deep inside of jon that it surprises him how capable he is of speaking though to his dismay, he does stutter, “wait—” 

however, with even a twitching cock, your hips stop their ascent immediately; the notion really shouldn’t make jon’s heart skip the way it does. he has to catch his breath, and you note absentmindedly how pretty he looks with tears of pleasure staining his skin, his usually well-taken cared of hair now messy and loose from the way it’s been pushed and pressed against the soft pillow. 

“i’ll cum if you do that,” he swallows—he’s just about as surprised as you are at the words that come from his mouth. you merely hum, squinting at him with amusement. you lean down to kiss him again, laughing gently at the way he hungrily returns it. 

“that’s the point, is it not? do you not wish to—” 

“no, no, i do,” he flushes now, only because you look at him with much more than just lust in your eyes. “i do, but..” his words drift away, but you understand. his fingers, now beginning to grow cold again, trace the side of your face. 

“but.. not yet.” and he’s so incredibly grateful for you, he thinks. how he managed to whisk you into his life, he’ll never know. 

his arms find their way around your neck as his face comfortably finds a spot tucked at your neck. you can feel his cold nose and his wide smile against your skin; the both of you softly laugh, sparing kisses across one another’s necks and cheeks. your thrusts resume, though without much thought. you rock into him, grinding your cock in deep, without rush. his legs lay open, his pussy throbbing against your cock—he knows the position only makes you feel so much deeper than you truly are, but he allows himself the pleasure. his cunt is so wet, he’s sure you’ll slip out of him if you’re to lift your hips any higher, but he squeezes down, hugging your cock close with his tight walls. he doesn’t bother stopping himself from moaning out your name, relishing in the way your hips jump even when it only brings out another moan from him, one just as sweet and melodic. 

he’s lost track of time, and surely you must have as well. by the time your fingers find his clit, he knows he won’t be sleeping long before the sun rises. his hands grip the sheets beneath him as he chokes out another moan. your thumb circles his puffy clit and your thrusting becomes shallow, your attention drifting away quickly to the flushed sight between his legs.

he’d always kept his curly bush groomed, which surprised you more than it should have (considering how much he cared for the hair on his head, you supposed it made sense). you’ve asked him before if he’d ever touched himself, and he only glared at you with a blush before huffing and turning a cold shoulder, though that was back when you’d only touched him with your fingers—you remind yourself to ask him again, when he’s not desperately bucking his hips onto your cock. he’s yet to ever plead for you, at least with his words. you swear one day, you’ll get him to, but you often find yourself forgetful once you’ve buried inside him. it’s the same tonight as well, you realize.

your cock slowly slides in, all the way, until your hips are flushed and your balls press against his taint. it’s nowhere near the first time you’ve bottomed out inside of him, yet it still makes him feel as if he’s lost his breath. it’s never been said aloud, though you are perfectly aware—you are the first, as well as the only one, to ever be inside of jon snow. he has to wonder if cocks are supposed to fit this well, or if it’s just his cunt that has learned your shape, bending to the will of your cock and betraying him when he claims to not have missed your warmth despite the sheer lack of a burn when you fuck him for the first time in what feels like ages—he always commends your silence, even when you bear a knowing grin that does nothing but spark arousal in his stomach. 

he’s prepared this time, even when you grind your hips down, earning yourself a groan from his sore throat. you pull back, again, letting your cock slowly glide across his walls, smiling when his pussy tightens for just a moment, pulsing in its weak attempt to pull your cock further in. jon looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, tears no longer falling, though they still appear pink. his lips part, and when you close the distance, your cock dives back in, angled just right to hit that same spot inside that has him seeing stars. he moans and he doesn’t stop, even when he grounds himself with his hands grasping at your back. you fuck him with such relentlessness, but he catches that glint in your eye, the one that proves his feelings he’s grown tired of pushing down are not one-sided. he can barely hear you whisper something, his name being all that he can catch. you rest your forehead against his when his back has finally stopped arching, and between heavy breaths, you kiss him again, hushing his moans.

the position is only slightly awkward when you bring your hand back down to circle his clit. the touch is maddening, and your kiss is swiftly broken when his head is brought back to the pillow, a moan ripping from his throat as he cums. his pussy convulses around you, squeezing down on your cock. the look on his face when he orgasms never fails to bring you over the edge, and you follow, finishing inside of him once more, pumping him full with warm seed that spills from the corners of where your cock has begun its descent, slipping from his fluttering hole just before it lingers for a moment more, submerged within the warmth of his heat before its pulled away, dropping from his aching pussy with an audible sound that causes jon’s hole to twitch again. 

sweat shines at his forehead, his dark eyes struggling to stay open. he swears he can feel the ghost of your cock still sheathed inside of him, but all he sees when he finds the strength to look down is your softening cock resting just between his legs. he twitches at the feeling of cum seeping from his sensitive, raw cunt, of which now flushes with great color, still hot. you grant him the space to close his legs and his thighs clasp awkwardly together, unfamiliar with so much heat and thick wetness between them. jon feels weak, though not in the way that would usually terrify him (though perhaps it’s somewhat relieving). exhausted, he still manages to make room for you beside him, and you settle properly beneath the covers, pulling jon close and fixing where the fur blankets don’t completely keep him covered. 

you lay on your sides, breathless, with your hearts pounding. his head rests on his hands; when a stray curl falls down before his eyes, you gently brush it away, letting your palm linger on his cheek that still burns with blush.

“don’t think it’s polite to keep your lover dirty with cum,” his voice is somewhat unsure, just a bit shaky. his eyes find yours, almost hesitantly. he’s seeking something in particular, and you can feel it when your hand rests on his hip, the way he feels tense, as if you haven’t been in a similar position together more times than he could count. “—even more so when it’s yours.” 

“sorry, lord commander,” he curses himself for the way his cunt throbs at the name. “i’ll clean you up in the morning, i swear it.” your eyes glimmer something hungry, and your lips curl back into a mischievous smile that just worsens the heat growing between his legs. 

the light from the fire makes his dark eyes look warm, his skin like gold, black curls velvet where they stick to his forehead, tousled across the linen pillow—he’s enthralling, and all yours. you have to move closer until your lips are brushing together, your eyes refusing to look anywhere else but at each other. 

“you know, for what it’s worth, you are much more than just my lover, jon snow.” 

with jon pressed so close, you can feel the heat pooling between his legs where he must be starting to ache, and his heart, pressed against your chest, you can feel thrumming at a rapid pace, admittedly not so different from your own. he sighs when your hand slips down to his waist, and instinctively he slides a leg over your hip, keeping you hugged close to his warm body. the night, so far, is over, and you both are well aware. still, you continue to bask in each other’s warmth, stealing kisses and gentle touches, taking the time to thoughtfully memorize one another’s body before the heat begins to die down and you’re holding each other impossibly close, wrapped up in a naked embrace. 

The first time you saw one of his videos, you got addicted of the sight of his big, bubble butt bouncing with each thrust of a heavy, fat dick inside him. You could still hear his obscene, lewd moans, the clapping of slick skin, the squelching of his hole when it was being abused by a juicy cock.

Steve was truly the perfect man with that amazing body of his.

Returning to your change of career, you initiated your new adventure with Avengers Studio, the same studio Steve worked with. The contract got signed, and the very next day, you were called to the studio so you could meet coworkers and the place you will have to get familiar with.

"So, this is just the resting room, you can smoke, drink coffee, or just talk and relax with the others. It is preferable you don't have sex with anyone, we have rooms and set ups for that," explained Tony Stark, the director of the studio, as he gave you a tour around the place. It was kinda huge, you were impressed.

As you walked around, you recognized faces you saw in some of your favorite porn videos from a while ago.

"This is Studio AA, the largest room we have, most films are recorded here," Tony continued to explain as he stopped in front of an open door.

Loud moans and clapping of wet skins could be heard inside, it was obvious a film was being recorded at the moment inside said studio. You approached the door and peeked inside, your eyes widened when you recognized one of the actors having sex in the set.

The same man that made you hard with his lewd moans and obscene ass, Steve Rogers, was bent over the bed as he was being fucked thoroughly by pornstar Bucky Barnes. Each pound of his powerful hips clapped Steve's round, bubbly ass, creating waves of flesh and jiggling of that juicy rear. The blond actor moaned uncontrollably, gasping for air from time to time, eyes blown wide, glazed, mouth hanging open as saliva drooled down his chin, and cock fully hard between his legs, leaking like a broken faucet. He was a total mess.

"Ahn, ah, ahn, nhh~" His voice echoed in your head, you couldn't stop staring at him. You could feel your pants tighten on the zone of your crotch, shit, he still had that strong effect on you.

"Love it when I put you in place, you little brat?" You heard Bucky ask him, hips going fast on Steve, abusing that hole.

"Yes! Yes, oooh I love your big, fat cock daddy!"

Ah, yes, the step-son and step-father type of movies, a classic. How does it feel to fuck your childhood best friend tho?

Meanwhile, Tony noticed how your eyes were glued on both actors, more specifically, Steve Rogers. He noticed how your pupils dilated by the sinful sight of him being pounded from behind, how your ears and brain didn't register whatever was going around you, too focused on that actor. That's when an idea popped in his head.

"Earth calling to Y/n, so you hear me?" he called you, to which you popped out of your trance, blinked twice and turned to look at him.

"E-excuse me, yes sir?"

"Are you a top?" You were a little taken aback by the blunt question, but you nodded.

"Yes sir."

It was the director's turn to nod, mind still thinking on that idea that just seemed to complete itself. "Perfect, follow me." You did as told, following him as he continued with the tour. He showed you the showers, the offices, etc, etc. Once the tour came to a conclusion, Tony returned to face you with a determined look in his eyes. "You're starting tomorrow, that's going to be your first scene, so be prepared please." What? Already?

"S-sure sir, Uhm, if it doesn't bother you too much sir, may I ask with who will I have to do my first film?" you asked, a little nervous. It wasn't just your first time as a porn actor, you were also a virgin, to add it on top of things. So, who was going to be the one to pop your cherry? Which handsome man are you going to have the honor to fuck? Is it perhaps Thor? You've noticed he's quite popular among rookies and that he's versatile. Maybe Peter Parker? He's a twunk that also recently joined the industry and has been doing pretty well in his debut, he's a whiny bottom with lovely hips and nice ass. There were so many options, so many outcomes, it was making you nervous and excited at the very same time.

Tony took his phone out the pocket from the back of his pants and typed something, probably a message to someone, before putting it back in the pocket and returning the attention to you. You raised an eyebrow, anticipating the answer, but he just waved his hand at you nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it, we'll find you someone to make your debut easy and entertaining."

Well, you don't know if that should make you feel relieved or more stressed. "If you're sure about that sire... sure."

The next day had come, you were on the set, getting ready to film your scenario. You were surprised that the first film you'd ever record as a first time porn actor, would be in the big room Studio AA. However, when you stopped to think about it a little more, Tony did tell you yesterday that it was the room most used due to its size, so at the end, was it really a surprise? Not really.

You sat on the bed, slowly jerking off your soft cock to make it hard as directed by Tony. You had to get ready before they started recording, you were nervous, heart beating fast in your chest.

Slowly, your cock started to get hard. Your trick was simple, think about Steve Roger bent over in front of you, ass up and open wide for you to see his juicy, clenching asshole. Yes, that always made the trick. You took a deep, shaky breath, feeling ready for what was about to come.

Steps were heard walking close to where you sat, you looked up and felt oddly relieved to see it was Tony approaching you with papers in hand.

"Here, this is your script, you can improve, sure, but keep it in the mood of the movie. Don't come randomly with superpowers or stuff like that," he said before returning to stand behind the camera crew, supervising that everything was in place. You didn't even have time to thank him.

With a soft sigh, you turned your attention on the paper that just got handed to you. You carefully read the script, reading what was underlined in yellow for you. It was a scenario presenting a regular civilian and a fireman who comes to turn off a fire before starting the sex scene. Your cock throbbed, enjoying the idea.

You took a few minutes to remember a few lines from the script, mainly the ones you considered important. Ready, you gave the papers back to the closest crew member you found and went back to your position. Another crew member brought the fake phone you'd be using for the movie, then with a small lighter, they turned bits of paper inside a trashcan in fire and retired from the scene. They announced they'd start rolling soon, so you put on some pants, going full commando, no underwear.

Tony confirmed with the cameramen, then nodded at you and gave you a thumbs up, the camera started rolling.

You took the fake phone that the crewmember gave you a few seconds ago and pretended to dial a number before bringing the phone to your ear. "Please, send help, there's a fire in my house," you said in almost a whiny tone, pretending to be worried. When the "call" finished, you put the phone down and waited.

In just a matter of seconds, a door opened and revealed the person you didn't expect to see so soon, especially for your first recorded porn movie.

"You called for help?" There stood tall and proudly Steve Rogers, your living wet dream, wearing nothing but a firefighter hat and an orange jockstrap, leaving his bubble butt exposed for you to see. He held in his hand a small bucket filled with water, he approached the trashcan where the father was, his hips swaying a little too exaggerated, the movement hypnotizing you instantly. Steve put the fire out in just a matter of seconds with no difficulty, he left the now empty bucket on the floor and turned to look at you with a cocky grin on his lips. It just made your cock throb harder.

You swallowed thickly, but remained in character, "Thank you so much," you said with a slight smile.

Steve's grin widened a little before approaching you, standing way too close to you, to the point you could smell his scent. "You were so brave, very brave," he said with a sultry voice, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Gosh, he was ten times hotter up close. "A-ah?" Was that in the script? Fuck if you know.

The blond actor removed his hat and left it on the floor before kneeling between your thighs, hands resting on them before moving to your zippers. His blue eyes never leaving your eyes. "You deserve a reward." His hands started undoing your pants, zipper being pulled down, letting your thick girth jump out of its confines, almost hitting the tip of Steve's nose from how close he was to your crotch.

Steve's eyes widened a little bit from the sheer size of your cock right on his face, the smell hit him hard, a mixture between lube, spit and musk. His own cock throbbed inside his jockstap.

The camera got closer to you two. You stared down at the blond man, pupils dilated, breathing shaky and heart beating fast in your rib cage. The breath of the other actor could be felt on your shaft, so warm, it just made your cock even more excited. Finally, Steve's hand wrapped around the base of your cock, you had to use all of your strength to not moan or bite your lip, just for the movie to turn out good.

"Wow... you have an impressive size," praised Steve as he admired your length. With his hand, he gave you slow, lazy, gentle pumps and finalized it with a kiss on the tip before taking it inside his mouth, lips wrapping around your crown.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped. His mouth was so hot, your cock could probably melt inside. Your hands gripped the sheets of the bed by your sides, never in your life did you think you'd get a blowjob this soon from your favorite porn actor. It felt just as good as how you imagined.

Steve hummed around your cock, slowly taking more and more of your shaft. He went a little deeper, then pulled back completely, spat on your cock, smeared his spit all over your length, and dived back down on your cock even deeper than last time. Shit, oh it felt so good. Your hand moved by instinct right behind his head, you weren't pushing him to take more, no, but it just felt right to grab his hair... as if at any moment, you'd start fucking his mouth like a fleshlight. Once again, Steve pulled back completely, panting, strings of saliva connecting his mouth with your cock. "Gosh... it tastes so good..." he said, looking back at you, before lick under your cock from base to tip, and went back to taking it all in his mouth.

As his pacing went faster, and your eyes rolled further behind your head, spit started to drool down Steve's chin from the corners of his lips. He took it all, all of your size, inside his mouth, and buried his nose in your pubs, inhalist your scent. He moaned, pupils dilating before pulling back completely again.

"Fuck..." he cursed.

"Gosh... that feels so good..." you whined, before pushing his head back on your cock.

"Hmmf-"

He moved his head more eagerly, you just enjoyed his work on your cock. What a professional cock sucker.

"Glugh-.. gll... hmmngh..." Steve kept increasing his pace, head bobbing up and down, fast. He was so eager for that cock, you could see it, you could feel it.

Steve kept sucking your cock as if it was the best lollipop he ever had in his life, which hopefully it was. You'd have him working on your cock just like that for undetermined hours, or days, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Tony and the camera crew indicating you two to change scenario now.

Your co-actor, to not say your favorite because you wanted to keep it professional, even if it was hard, seemed to have also noticed the sign. He dragged his lips along your shaft slowly, before releasing it with a soft pop. Your cock jumped and hit your lower abdomen, sloppy and leaking spit, lube and pre-cum.

"Hmm..." Steve cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, cocky smile still intact on his face, blue eyes filled with desire locked on you. "I'm so sorry, I feel that wasn't enough for a reward to you.. right?"

"It sure wasn't" you answered, slowly pulling him on the bed by your side.

He got on four on the bed, ass up, wiggling, tempting you, so naughty. "Would this be a better reward...?"

Damn right it would, you thought. Round, bouncy bubble butt with a puffy, winking, pink hole wanting to be fucked thoroughly until it can't close back. What an honor to pound him with your dick.

You grabbed a bottle of lube that was neglected close to the back of the bed, with your free hand you pulled Steve's asscheeks apart a little more and squirted a good amount of lube on his ass.

"Ahn..." his moans kept making your dick throb.

With two fingers of yours, you spread the lube on the soft ring of muscles, earning soft gasps and hissings from Steve who pushed his ass closer to you. Your eyes were glued on his winking hole, you wanted to dive in so badly, right now, and fuck him like a dog in heat. You pushed two fingers inside him, and you were surprised with how easy it was to slide inside him, his walls almost too sloppy, it felt even warmer than his mouth, and his walls kept clenching around your fingers. You scissored him slowly, mainly because you truly wanted to feel him.

"Ah... ah... yess..." Steve turned to look at you over his shoulder. "Come on big guy, give me that fat dick."

You positioned yourself on your knees right behind him, and Steve just pushed his ass closer to your crotch, wiggling his ass, grunting lowly. You moved your hips, cock sliding between his asscheeks. "Haaa..." Your cock felt so sensitive, you were leaking all over Steve's crack, making a total sticky mess with the lube.

"Oh... ooh.." Steve kept pushing back, your cockhead bumping from time to time with his needy hole.

The fingers you were using to stretch him before, you pulled them out and leaked them clean before rubbing Steve's hole one last time. Your hand wrapped around the base of your cock, guiding the head of it on Steve's entrance. You took a deep inhale, and slowly sinked in.

"Oooh... ooh fucck-" Your balls clenched, you almost came inside just from pushing your cock inside his hole. The warmth, the tightness around your cock, all the clenching. You kept pushing inside, cock throbbing insane inside Steve's ass.

"Hmm... yes, deeper..." begged Steve as he slammed his hips on yours, stealing a gasp from you.

The mess of lube, pre-cum, and other fluids smeared on your pelvis and top of your tighs, sticky, disgusting... it turned you on even more. Steve thrusted his hips on yours, the clapping of wet skins resonated through the walls of the studio. His ass jiggled with each bounce, waves of flesh appearing on his round buttcheeks. What a sight, what a truly blessed sight for your eyes.

"Yes... yes... oh yes," you moaned, hands moving to his hips as you started moving as well, meeting his thrusts halfway. The clapping just got even louder, more lewd.

It was driving you insane.

"Faster... faster, harder!" cried Steve, growing desperate for more.

"Take it-! Hmm!" You gave with your hips a harsh pound on his ass that drove him further against the mattress, face completely down. "Take it all...!" The repetitive clap, clap, clap got faster, humid squelchings got louder as your cock dragged inside and back outside from his hungry, greedy hole that just tightened even more around you everytime you pulled back.

Steve's eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth hanging open as obscene moans and words spilled out of his pretty, swollen lips.

Your eyes, still glued on the way his ass jiggled with each thrust of your hips, made it easy for your intrusive thoughts to win. You raise your hand, and drove it down on Steve's ass, spanking the soft flesh, leaving a red mark on the pale skin.

"Ahn! Ah yes!" moaned Steve delighted.

Once more, you saw from the corner of your eye the crew team signaling you to change positions.

You pulled your cock back, to which Steve cursed under his breath, already missing your cock filling his hungry ass.

In a swift movement, you turned him on his side and pulled one leg of his above your shoulder while you moved on top of the other before lining your cock with his eager hole again.

This time, you didn't need to go easy on him, you just pushed all of your cock deep inside in one go.

"Aaah! Hmm..." You held his leg with both of your hands as you thrust inside him at a quick and sharp pace. His balls bounced against yours, cock leaking and jumping with the movement of your hips, Steve felt in heaven, he hasn't tried this position in so long.

You kissed his ankles, keeping a steady pace. This angle was so exquisite, you could swear you were exploring new spots inside Steve, ones that made the blond actor whine and moan.

"Such a great reward," you panted, moving one hand of yours to pull on Steve's balls and massage them later.

"Fuck... oh fuck... yes! yes!"

Steve went to pull the leg you were holding closer to his chest, he was biting his lower lip, he was sure he'd lose his voice the next day if he didn't stay lower down his moans... But it was so hard when your cock was hitting his prostate so good. However, you didn't know that you were hitting that sweet, sensitive spot, you were thrusting without a precise aim. But it didn't matter, Steve was loving it.

"Deeper! Fuck me deeper!" he moaned out loud

The hand that was teasing Steve's balls moved to his leaking cock, you push your thumb against his sensitive head, stealing a whimper from the blue eyed man. "So sensitive..."

You could feel a pressure growing stronger on your lower abdomen, and your balls felt like they were tightening, ready to release something big. You were close, you knew it, that orgasm was building into something big.

"Fuuuck, Steve!" Even if you'd love to cum inside Steve, fill him to the very brim with your cum, there was a script you had to follow. You forced yourself to pull your cock out, a lewd pop followed the action with all the mixture of fluids. "Come here..." You pulled him by his arm till he laid on his stomach facing you. You grabbed the firefighter helmet Steve left on the floor at the beginning of the recording and placed it back on his head before jerking your cock off close to his face. "Let me show you, hmmf!! My biggest.. unnhh~ gratitude, for saving me!" The large load of cum could be felt running from your balls right at the very tip of your cock, spurting and showering Steve's face, painting it all in white. "Haaa..."

"And cut!!!" The moment got interrupted with the shout of Tony, announcing the end of the recording. "Very good job! Spectacular!"

You tried to catch your breath again, this was the best orgasm ever.

Steve hummed, pleased, he took your cock in his hand, kissed and slapped it slightly on his cheek while he stared at you with a slight smirk. "Not bad, rookie, you have such a lovely cock to play with." He gave it one last kiss on the head and got down from the bed. A large, dark stain could be seen on the front of his jockstrap, including the large outline of his still hard cock.

"Uhm... Need help with that?" you offered, a little shy.

Steve's smile widened. "You're such an amazing guy, can't wait to work with you and your lovely cock again." He winked at you before leaving the set with a towel around his waist.

You were left there, amazed and still trying to process what just happened. Sex with Steve Rogers, you fucked him, and came all over him... And he called your cock lovely...and he wants to work with you again ?! You were living the best life.

Four months later, after having more experience in the field, resisting the urge to cum too fast with numerous tight asses that have swallowed your cock, you received another role for another adult film with Steve Rogers as a collaborator.

Turns out that the first film you made with Steve got so popular on the sites, gaining many views and comments, that the people wanted to see another video with you fucking Steve till he was nothing but a mess, moaning uncontrollably. Tony saw profit, and came up with another scenario for you two;

CEO with assistant, that would be the dynamic of this time.

Steve played the role of the CEO who rewards his assistant, you, for doing such a great job with the numbers and reports for the business. He gets down in front of you and sucks your cock deliciously, praising you for your hard work.

And that's what was happening right now.

"Such a great assistant, keeping up with the good job.. hmm..." Steve's lips were wrapped around your hard shaft, sucking you off lazily, savouring your dick as he kept praising you, holding eye contact with you. "Haaa... you deserve a big and good reward..." He sucked the side of your shaft before giving attention to your balls, sucking one of them and kissing the other.

"Ah... sir.. hmmm." It doesn't matter how many films you record with Steve, you'll never get used to how good his mouth or ass feels. "Sir... I'm so close..."

"Give it all to me..." he ordered, jerking you off fast, impatient for your cum. "Make me drink your cum, I want to drink your cum..."

A long groan slipped out of your lips, Steve's mouth went back to work on your cock, more eager, needier. You could feel your balls tightening, clenching, preparing to bust all of your cum inside his mouth and all over his face.

It didn't take much more for you to bust all over his face, some of your load land inside Steve's mouth to which he swallowed, pleased with the treat.

"Fuck..." you cursed under your breath, it always feels amazing.

You two kep eye contact for a few seconds, before the crew shouted cut.

"And cutt!! Very good job guys," said Tony, applausing to you. "We're getting another hit on our page this year with you two."

Steve stood up from the floor and cleaned the cum from his face with a clean cloth Tony handed him. "Yeah? That's so great," said the blond man before returning to you. He leaned close and kissed you cheek, excited. "Let me invite you some drinks to celebrate, handsome."

You blushed hard, not only due to the invitation, because of the kiss, obviously.

"S-sure..." you stuttered, and blushed even more when you noticed how Tony was looking at you with a knowing smile. "Hey! Don't look at me like that."

Steve chuckled at your reaction. "Take care Y/n, see ya." You saw the naked man leave to take a towel so he could go next to the showers. Damn... would it be possible that you date your porn idol?

_____________________________

Not so long ago I got really horny, and I put that energy in one side just to save it for this fic.

YES I love men with big, round, bubble butts AND I HAVE NO SHAME.

Not a really long one, sorry for that.

Gosh, I'm mentally exhausted.

Word count: 4.2k

Tag list:

@wrathfulkeyreservoir

@gay-marvel-evans-fan

@vibrantsavagerydoom

@soundlyfasttavern

His hands, rough and calloused, shot out, grabbing your wrists and slamming them into the pillows above your head. The sheer difference in strength and size between you two sent a jolt of electricity straight to your already aching cock. You struggled instinctively, but it was useless. He was a damn rock.

"Mikey—"

One of his hands traveled to your neck, cutting off oxygen as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. His eyes, still that unnerving, placid blue, held no mercy. He was a blank slate, a beautiful, terrifying machine, and you were the thing he was currently taking apart. You could smell yourself on his breath, see the faint sheen of your pre-cum still on his lips.

The sight made your hips buck involuntarily.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, the first real sound you'd heard from him, and it vibrated through your entire body.

It was a warning.

He shifted his weight, the movement fluid and terrifyingly fast. He kept his hand locked around your throat, using the other to line up your slick, throbbing cock with his entrance. With a brutal, downward thrust of his powerful hips, he impaled himself on you in one, single, devastating motion.

A strangled cry tore from your throat, the sound muffled by the pressure on your neck. The heat, the tightness, the sheer force of him taking you was overwhelming. Michael didn't pause. He didn't let you adjust. He set a punishing rhythm from the very first bounce, his massive thighs flexing as he lifted himself up and slammed back down.

His hand on your throat cut off just enough air to make your vision swim at the edges. Yet the lack of oxygen also sharpened every sensation. The drag of his tight heat around you, the slap of his ass against your thighs, the sight of his powerful, sweat-slicked body rising and falling above you.

He leaned over you, his chest against yours, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. Still, he was silent, save for the low, guttural grunts that escaped with each punishing drop.

The pressure in your core built to an unbearable peak, a coil wound so tight it was about to snap. And, as if sensing it, Michael's pace became erratic, his movements deeper and faster.

He was close too.

The hand on your throat disappeared and he pulled you up slightly for a bruising, possessive kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance that he won without even trying. The new angle made the tip of your cock touch his g-spot repeatedly, causing his eyes to water slightly.

You couldn't handle it anymore.

it’s his job to make you feel comfy and right at home! why else do you think he raised the ranks it’s so that other tedious tasks are left for his subordinates

he doesn’t stay on your lap grinding his hole the whole day, of course!

he hides beneath your desk nestling between your legs during meetings, or else he would be blocking the camera and get in the way of your work

your meeting can tend to take a long time which is why he really likes to take it real long and slow with you

his main goal isn’t to be a brat or a tease but to genuinely to make you feel good and relax (do note that it is his intention but whether you actually relax is another story)

he likes to start by kisses all over your inner thighs and groping them to feel how thick and sturdy they are

this continues until he can see the bulge forming in your underwear and he likes to greeting it by burying his face right up to take a good smell of your cock right from the source

if you can’t tell already, he definitely has a scent kink and likes to smell your musk for a long time until he salivates from the smell and his mouth gets the itch

to warm up, he likes to shove it down all the way to the bar to really feel the stretch in his throat. he doesn’t move just sitting there cock warming you with his throat

if he feels that your cock is leaking too much precum and it’s getting hard for him then pulls out he swallows while keeping the head in his mouth before restarting all again

he likes to spread the precum all over your cock using his tongue to make sure the whole thing is nice and wet for him

if he wants a break then he sucks on the head, lazily swirling his tongue around the tip

sometimes he pretends that your cock is a tongue and pretend to kiss it like you’re french kissing

he loves making you leak so much that he can slurp that white sticky goo but he has to hold back to avoid making loud sounds for the mic to pick up

but once he gets the jist the meeting is heading towards its end. that’s when he really throws it all out the window and try to work you up in hopes that you would pound his tight hole he saved up for you after the call

he starts to deep throat make sure your cock is reaching the tightest area at the back, making sure to rock his head back and forth at a good pace

now this is when he really gets a bit adventurous and slurp loudly to make you hang up faster to avoid being caught

depending on how important the meeting is, you may leave early and let the rest finish up or lock his head with your thighs so he can’t move and forced to continue to cock warm you with his throat

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Aeres lets out a moan as you mercilessly enter him all at once without trying to loosen him up.

“M-mhm♡ I-mf sorryyy♡”

You were pounding him so fiercely, he could only bounce his body to the rhythm of your hips. Swaying back and forth as he clutched onto your desk for support and bucking his hips out.

“Sorry?”

You snorted. Kneading his fair butt, squeezing it right and letting it go to watch the slight jiggle at the release of contact. Warming his cheeks nicely with you palm before slapping his hard.

The sound echoed nicely in your office and Aeres whimpered at the pain, but continued to arch his back to meet your every thirst.

“You didn’t seem sorry with how much fun you were having between my legs, hm?”

You held his hips in order to thrust deeply yet again, and quickened the past.

“M-master ♡”

Aeres continued to moan out for you and moved his hips alongside your every thrust to get you to places deep within him that he would never be able to touch on his own.

“Use your words. Do you want to cum?”

You spat harshly at your maid, but his body could only break down the pleasure you were giving him and he was no longer capable of assembling words or able to convey them.

Aeres could only clench his hole tight and nod back at you with tears in his eyes, hoping that you would forgive him for disobeying.

Of course, you didn’t.

“You’re being quite naughty today, is that right Aeres?”

You snaked a hand down between his legs and found his member between your hands.

Aeres gasped at the unexpected touch, and his knees buckling at the warmth of your hands on his cock.

You found your way to the tip and firmly pressed your thumb at the tip.

Aeres knew exactly what you were going to do and whined against your desk. Although, he would sway his hips frantically to no avail to throw your hands off him. He knew better to grasp frantically at your hands to throw him off.

It was engraved in his bones and blood that he was for your pleasure. A bit of coyness would spice bedroom activities up but he would never openly defy against your wishes.

“Nghh~♡♡ your cock f-feels sooo good master ♡ its stretching my maid hole so well ♡”

Fuck, he was trying to sweet talk his out of this. You can tell, but you weren’t about to fall for it. You continued to hit it deep inside of him without release you hold on his twitching cock.

“Mhmm♡~ Master♡~ can we please c-cum together ah♡”

You can tell that he was about to cum, but do you let him have your way with you?

His flushed face and reddened buttocks paired with his glistening eyes while whimpering and moaning was satisfying but

“Nope♡”

You blocked the urethra firmly with your thumb and came inside of him with the base of your cock touching the rim of his hole.

Aeres whined at his lack of release and feeling himself being filled with your warm cum but before he could whine at you. He was flipped with his back flushing against the cool wooden table and the thrusting began again forcing the cum to bubble and come out.

“N-noooo♡ Masterrrr♡”

You smiled at his moans and pressed your lips together while nibbled at his bottom lip swallow the rest of his whines.

the bed creaked softly in protest to the insistent force of your thrust, a deep, sensual pace that you had set when the pretty, older man under you kept whining about his back or how his muscles are gonna pull from your overeager movements. despite his stuttered words, his arms stayed wrapped tight around your shoulders, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your back with the tiniest resistance.

“heeeey hey, mister~” you cooed out with a teasing grin, pushing your pelvis flush against his own until he could feel your pubic hair scratching against his skin. how embarrassing, being folded over by some snotty nosed kid who could be twice his age. and by someone who was so disrespectful too. the gal.

“you’ve gone real quiet ever since we got naked. what’s on your dirty old mind, huh?” without giving him a chance to retort, talking about how disrespectful kids nowadays were or to hear him complain about his aching joints, you pulled back just enough before thrusting back inside him in one push. he choked on his drool, looking away from you with the prettiest red on his stubble covered face.

“what’s the matter, sir? did i manage to fuck the brat out of you?” brat? who were you calling a brat? if anything, you were the brat here, not him!

“listen real closely, sir” you lean down, chest brushing against his swollen, drool and bite covered nipples as you whisper into his ear. a shudder crawled along his spine, something he merely tucked away as a reaction to being sweaty. though, his mind was getting clouded, growing more and more sloppy when he felt how you ground your strap deeper into his sloppy hole, grounding against that stupid, twitchy spot inside him.

“gaHG—! mmhg… hhhmgg♡︎” still, he refused to make noises again. whenever he did, you just cooed at him as if he was some injured animal, damn near railing your cum deeper into his guts as if you wanted to get him pregnant. he knew how stupidly, perverted you were, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of hearing his crumbling sanity.

“you hear that, sir?” sshhliiiick—♡︎! plawp♥︎

“ANGH—! mmfgh..” biting his lip, he shook his head weakly, even though he heard that dirty noise of your earlier rounds’ cum spilling out of his hole and felt your tip graze that soft spot inside him. his dick was twitching again, a weak, spent little thing covered in its own cum laying on his soft stomach. he didn’t wanna look. didn’t even wanted to hear your voice whispering in his ear, clouding his judgement.

“you don’t? but it’s so loud, sir. it almost sounds like we’re kissing down there” he wanted to whine at your words. such a filthy kid you were, describing such a depraved sound as something sweet like a kiss.

“your hole is strangling my strap, sir. it’s almost as if you’re thirsty for me. ain’t it, right? should i kiss your sloppy hole even more down there, sir? get you all sweet ‘n soft” letting go of his trembling leg, your hand trails down to his ass, groping the fat flesh before rubbing a thumb over his rim. you teased the idea of pushing a thumb inside, to watch the earlier cum get fucked out of his fluttering hole, but the cute, desperate look in his eyes stopped you.

“s-sstupid kid.. don’t say s-such things when you’re s-stirring my guts” he could barely talk, tripping over his own words as he tried to keep his swollen lips from moaning out your name. which round was this? he had almost forgotten, you were just too energetic with your bubbling youth, he could barely keep up. even his legs were shaking, twitching against your shoulder where you had hooked one up.

“aha, so you do like me fucking your insides” you tease him, grin growing wider into a smile of a cheshire cat. grabbing at his meaty thighs, you push his legs up until they were nearly by his head, folding him into a mating press as you sink your cock deeper into him with this new position.

he could only gasp, pupils widening as he stared with glassy eyes at where your pelvis met his. you were going to break him open, he can’t breathe in this position, give him a fucking break!

“d-don’t—! aaahng.. n-no, not like this. p-put me down, you brat!”

“relax, mister. you can handle another round just fine” you laugh as his hands scratch at your biceps, his eyes growing teary at how easily you manhandled his bigger body. he was being pushed to the brink of what was left of his mind, body basically vibrating against the sweat covered mattress with how violently he shook.

“hang on tight, sir♡︎”

you were gonna ruin him, stupid brat.

[Earlier]

“fuck…” Shanks mumbles as he walks down the hallway. It’s taking everything he has to keep his pheromones inside his body, using all his experience of holding in pain both physical and mental to help him. Holding things in is making it worse, he’s just making himself emotional faster, but he can’t be spotted like this. His thoughts go to earlier, when you two were drinking. He had already started feeling off around you lately, sometimes he forgets he’s an omega since he takes blockers and doesn’t really pay attention to those specific labels, so he brushed it off as him just taking a liking to you. He fucks because he can, and any parts that are different are just the things given to him. The only times he remembers he’s an omega is when he’s reminded, either during sex or during medical appointments, though sometimes he isn’t paying attention even then.. Well he wishes he was paying attention now. Hongo had always told him that even if he took blockers that he should keep track of when he was supposed to have heats, just in case something ever went wrong during those times; but Shanks being Shanks, pushed that aside. He wouldn’t need to know all that, if anything happened he would just deal with it, Hongo keeps track anyway; so the doctor could just deal with it. Medical stuff isn’t his specialty.

‘I might be the biggest idiot in the world.’ Shanks tells himself as he shoves his door open and falls onto his bedroom floor, kicking it closed with his foot. Why hadn’t he put it together? Liking you, starting to feel off around you recently, feeling hornier than usual… why did it not click? What’s wrong with him? Is he stupid? Shanks lets out a small groan as he presses his thighs together, already feeling the slick between them. He had heard before of something like love activating a heat even if blockers were taken, but it was rare and sounds way too romantic. Plus, Shanks is more than grown now. Healthy, but not a teenager that can’t control their hormones. He slides a hand down to his pants, over his crotch, and presses down. Pleasure shoots through him and he tries to cover his mouth to muffle a moan, forgetting that he doesn’t have another hand to muffle it with. It makes him jolt and he shakily sits up and tries to sense if anyone is near, sighing in relief when he doesn’t feel anyone. He manages to get onto his feet, trying to imagine he’s just drunk as he flops onto his bed on his stomach; then rolls onto his back. ‘Should I knock myself out?’ He considers seriously, knowing how it feels to have a heat without a partner. It’s miserable, no matter how many times you cum it keeps feeling like it isn’t enough. What’s worse is you just get depressed too! God he would rather go through a terrible hangover. His crotch is pulsing, fluttering and clenching around nothing as his breath starts to quicken. Shanks slips a hand into his pants and parts his lips, the amount of slick he feels making him flinch. “God what am I this wet for?” He mumbles and his mind immediately goes to you, making his womb throb in response with a whine. He isn’t an insecure man, but you’ve never really shown any genuine interest in him. You’ve flirted with him, maybe even alluded to a fling, but he doesn’t want a fling. Here it goes with the negative thoughts. He likes you, he loves you, even if he shouldn’t. He’s your captain and older than you. An older omega… would he even be able to give pups at this age? The thought rings through him and he tears up with a whine. He’s pushing 40, he isn’t as fertile as he used to be, even if he’s an omega he isn’t good enough. His body isn’t good for pups, he drinks and fights and he’s above his prime. He aged like fine wine appearance wise but what does that matter? Shanks is just a pretty face and a pretty body. His fingers play with his clit as he starts to cry softly, feeling pathetic. When he was younger he cursed the people who told him he would regret not having pups while he was young, he still does now; but when in his heat... he agrees with them. It’s the hormones, this is known, but this pain is real. He keens out for a mate that isn’t there. A dangerous man, a whore, used up and useless. All these things that would never bother him, things that he even sometimes took pridefully, fill his mind and make him miserable. It makes his first orgasm feel like shit, the pleasure doing nothing. ‘Useless useless useless’ his omega mind tells him as he turns his head to the side, unable to even wipe his tears.

[Now]

You sniff the door more, trying to figure out what it is until you catch a whiff of something. It feels erotic at first, like alcohol, which is why you mistook it as maybe your breath from the ale; but you start to realize that it isn’t. You press your nose to the door and sniff again, smelling it stronger. Salty, a stinging like alcohol and the salty sea. It smells like Shanks, but it’s usually softer than this, more calm. This smells more… unstable. Even when he was drunk he didn’t smell like this. The scent turns rotten, more salty and more like wine that wasn’t sealed properly, negative and stressful “Captain?” You call out as you knock on the door again, getting less irritated due to worry. Unknown to you, Shanks hears you, but it only made him feel better for a moment. It’s a whirlpool, he’s happy you’re here, happy you sound worried, but what now? The only good parts of him are the fact that he’s confident, sure of himself. If he isn’t then he would just be some insecure, pathetic, drunk, old omega giving himself away. No, no, he can’t let you see him like this. You get a headache as the scent gets weaker, then stronger as he tries and fails to hold it in. “Captain, are you okay? What’s going on? Should I call someone?”

“No!” He yells out instinctively, startling you slightly.

“Okay.. I will.. not—call someone.” You respond, still hesitant. You’re close to Shanks but not as close as maybe Beckman, another omega. “Are you sure though? I can call Beckman.” Shanks thinks about that, that actually might make him feel a bit better; but Beckman isn’t you. Plus he has a feeling Beckman would just scold him, maybe even tell him to go to you. God he’s pathetic. “Captain, I know we aren’t as close but is there something I can do?”

…

“C..Can you just… stay here?” He mumbles, it’s quiet to the point where you can barely hear it.

‘He wants me to stay!?’ You think to yourself, shocked. You’ve already gotten hard from his pheromones, what if you say something stupid? “Uh are you su-”

“You don’t want to?” Shanks sounds vulnerable, weak, and you shake your head quickly despite him not being able to see it.

“No, no, I’m okay staying here,” ‘God he sounds so cute I wanna see him.’ “I was more worried that you don’t actually want me here.” You say, your mind spinning a little. You’re doing your best to stay calm, unfortunately that’s only making Shanks feel worse since he’s thinking that he’s so unattractive that you’re completely fine despite his pheromones going strong. “I just want to make you feel better.” Caught in a bad spot, the two of you are. Shanks is insecure and feeling worse because you seem completely fine, and you’re doing your best to hold yourself together because Shanks is distressed. This is going nowhere but down. “Are you uhm.. in heat? Did you forget your blockers?”

“Gods, I didn’t. It would make things easier if it were just that.” Shanks says, biting his lip when he slips a finger inside himself.

‘Why is he so emotional, am I doing something wrong? Am I this emotional during a rut?’ Your mind races as you try to think of anything to save this. You try to think of something that you would like to hear during a stressful rut. “..Do you need help?” When you’re met with silence you consider playing it off as a bad joke but then there’s a response.

“What good is helping an old geezer like me?” He says, his voice sad. Your mind goes blank for a moment, what is he saying? He’s completely out of your league asking what good is there? He isn’t even that old!

“Well- uh.. you’re sexy?” You sound a bit unsure, not knowing if you’re doing something good. When you smell him slightly calm you feel slight relief. Shanks may not want just a fling, but hearing the person he loves call him sexy is always a plus. “You’re super hot, and you’re incredibly attractive in all ways both physically and personality wise.” You keep throwing out compliments, flooding them in as your captain’s pheromones seem to be reacting positively. “I know I make fun of your arm jokes but they’re actually funny, even when they’re not they’re funny in an unfunny way; especially since you always look so bright and proud of yourself when you get the perfect opportunity to make one. Your eyes crinkle up happily, it’s super cute.” His sadness is subsiding and turning into a small glee as you continue, his hips bucking into his fingers. You press your hands against the door, “You’re the most desirable person and omega I've ever me-” and fall through it onto Shanks’s bedroom floor. Oh. When the redhead had struggled inside earlier he hadn’t closed it properly, so it opened at the pressure. He stares at your form on the ground, not sure whether to laugh or beam that you’re inside. You get up onto your knees and your brain immediately goes numb from the smell of him, the scent through the door can’t compare to this. It makes your mouth water and you forget about your embarrassment. Shanks is about to ask if you’re okay when you get up onto your feet and look at him, your pupils dilating at the sight. Your captain is laying there, propped up on his elbow. You can see glistening on his fingers, slick. He follows your gaze and gets embarrassed.

“Had to make do, being alone and all.” He mumbles, trying to play it cool. Exceedingly hard when his face is still flushed and his muscles are tensing from trying not to pull you to him. You walk over to him and grab his wrist, making him flinch and gasp when you wrap your lips around his wet fingers, groaning at the taste. His womb throbs and he purrs involuntarily from the action, his body pleased that his alpha is here. “(Y/n) I-”

“Shh, I’m here now.” You pull back and move yourself between his legs, your tent above his clothes weeping cunt. “Fuck, I can almost feel how wet it is just from this.” You grind down on him and he throws his head back with a cry, pleasure shooting through him as his legs wrap around your waist instinctively. You can’t help it, you need to fuck him, your hands go to the hem of his pants and pull it all off. He’s wet, it would be so easy to thrust into him, you put your tip at his entrance and pause.

“...?” Shanks props himself up to look at you, you’re sweating and clenching your teeth. You’re holding back, Shanks hasn’t given consent yet and your body is punishing you for daring to stop yourself from breeding an omega in front of you; but you can’t, you can’t do this to your captain if he doesn’t want it just because you couldn’t control yourself. Shanks realizes this and grabs your shirt to pull you down for a kiss, his lips moving against yours passionately until he pulls back. “Fuck me.” He whispers. “Please…” Your eyes fog over and you grab his legs to pull him back onto your cock while thrusting into him, his body adjusting to you immediately as he gasps. So ready for cock and now he’s all yours. He’s already a mess below you, squirming. It’s not long before his walls pulse around you and he wails, his orgasm coming suddenly after being pent up and distressed this whole time. His arm clutches onto the back of your shirt as your hips move, “Breed me please please I need it.” gripping onto it so hard you’re sure it’ll stretch out. It doesn’t matter though, not when his pussy is clenching around you so well as he begs you to give him pups. Him being a powerful pirate or the captain of an important crew doesn’t matter, he just wants to be your omega. Fuck, you’ll keep him pregnant over and over until he can’t think about anything except getting bred and taking care of his pups, your pups. Your knot starts to inflate and Shanks lets out pheromones to give you every sign he wants it, shaking as he reaches his second orgasm. Gummy walls squeeze around you and leak slick as he cries out while you continue to fuck him; painting his insides with your seed. Your knot slowly forces its way inside with your thrusts until it pops inside of him with a squelch. Shanks feels dizzy, happy, he puts his hand on his stomach purring until he remembers how old he is. “What’s wrong?” You ask him as you rub your scent glands onto his.

“Pups.. I'm.. it’d be hard for me to get them.” He feels like crying, tearing up while he looks away feeling ashamed. You think for a moment, then pick him up and walk towards the door that’s still open with your dick still inside him, closing it. You won’t need to lock it, everyone will get the hint the moment they even get near the hallway. You plop down onto the bed with him on your lap and thrust up into Shanks, your knot still inside.

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s hard for you to get pups then we can keep trying.” You grab his hand and intertwine your fingers. “I’ll do it over and over until your womb is overflowing with me.” Shanks pants, his eyes glazing over at your romantic(?) words.

“Alpha~” He whines and you pull him in for a kiss, making out with him until your knot unswells enough you can lay him back on the mattress and hook his legs over your shoulders into a mating press. You kiss him one more time before thrusting into his wet cunt, squelching with slick as you fuck your own cum deeper into him. Your mouth goes to his neck, sucking hickeys where you’re planning on biting him once his heat is over. When you can fuck your seed into him and mate him while he’s fully himself. This angle is deeper than before and you feel the tip of your dick kiss his cervix, making his head throw back with pleasure as slick drips down your balls and coats your thighs. His plump chest from his muscles move with each thrust, nipples perked up like they’re already going to lactate. Your hand goes to one and squeezes the flesh there, his heat making them softer than usual. He likes it, cries getting louder since he can’t speak anymore. Your knot swells up for the second time and he cums again, struggling to make more noise that shows he’s yours as his throat goes sore. It doesn’t even matter if he didn’t love you, your dick is too addictive, he’d never be able to have another. You pound into him and his cervix, one hand on his thigh and the other on his breast. You’re a perfect match and as you slam into him the to his cervix shoots your cum directly into his womb as your cock ruins his pussy for the second time.

“My omega.” You mumble and kiss him again as he manages to purr happily, your scents mixing together like you’re already mated.

_______________

…………..

After everything is done, he finally gets a moment to rest his mind. Looking at the sinking ship of the Kid pirates, he sighs. “Kids these days get too strong too fast.” He says as he walks further onto the Red Force. Shanks expected Kid to have gotten stronger, but enough to destroy multiple ships at once was unexpected. It’s then that your expression comes to mind, the smile that didn’t reach your eyes. He looks around a few times after he remembers but doesn’t see you “Shit.” He mumbles to himself. His crew overhears this and start to snicker despite Shanks’s small panic.

“In trouble, Captain?” Yasopp asks teasingly and Shanks sighs as they sail back to the island’s dock.

“Hopefully not too much..” The redhead says, but before he can go look for you inside the ship, people call for him. ‘Dammit.’ What’s worse, he feels your gaze on him. It’s harsh, and he resists the urge to shiver. He needs to go find you, but he should calm his subordinates first. He hops off of the ship and, again, a woman hugs his waist. She clings to him happily and he puts his hand on her hip, trailing it up to pat her back. “See? I told you everything would be fine.” He tells everyone.

“You took care of him so easily! We have to have a celebration!” One of the men say and Shanks, for the first time in a long while, actually feels not that excited for a celebration. He’s always excited to drink, of course, but the longer he keeps you waiting the worse things are going to be.

“A celebration for beating such a weak pirate?” He asks, raising a brow. “You sure you aren’t just using me as an excuse to party?”

“Nonsense! Our chief saving our island and people is always a cause for celebration!” The man responds and everyone cheers.

‘This isn’t working out.’ Shanks thinks to himself. “That sounds great but I should get going.”

“Ehhh? Already?” They all yell. “We wanted to thank you for saving us though!”

“Yeah, sorry. No need to thank me either, it’s my fault a big shot came to this island.” The captain continues to try and escape from the people, picking up a few women to place them further back. Beckman watches this, amused. He almost considers letting the redhead deal with this himself, but alas, he is the first mate and he is supposed to help the captain.

“C'mon everyone, let the Captain rest.” Beckman tells them, patting one of them on the back while he motions for the other townspeople to leave as well.

“Yeah, don’t tire him out now, he’s gonna need his energy!” Lucky Roux says knowingly with a laugh, making Shanks cringe.

“Well, okay. See you later Chief!” The women and men say, a few giving him a kiss on the cheek. Once they’re gone Shanks sighs in relief, then slowly trails his vision over to you, sweating as he notices an even more insincere smile on your face. You narrow your eyes sinisterly and head inside the ship. He curses and quickly makes his way inside too.

“We’ll save you a seat, Captain!” Lucky yells to him.

“Yeah, and we’ll make sure it’s cushioned too!” Yasopp adds and they all start to laugh, voices fading as Shanks follows you. He trails through the halls and eventually finds you, grabbing your shoulder to turn you towards him.

“Heyyyy!” He says with a friendly voice, “You know they don’t mean anything to me, right, love? Well not ‘anything’ but not like you-” He’s interrupted as you grab his collar and pull him into a rough kiss. He takes a step back, and you pin him to the wall. He shivers slightly as your tongue slips into his mouth and his into yours, intertwining the two muscles. Shanks grips onto your arm and groans softly when you lick the roof of his mouth. With that, you pull away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you for a moment. His face flushed as he catches his breath, voice full of anxious hope. “...Is this a sign you’re not that mad at me…?” The redhead asks, panicking as one of your hands slips under his shirt and grips tightly onto his waist. Your eyes narrow and your smile widens.

“What do you think?”

_______________________

“Hah~ nnGH~!” Shanks groans into the pillow, clutching the sheets beside his head like a lifeline as you slam into his lifted hips mercilessly. He’s already cum twice, you once, sweat glistening on his back as the muscles tense under your hand with every thrust. Your other hand goes to his hair and pulls his head up, his mind swimming as you lean over him.

“Don’t hide now, thought you loved the attention?” Your voice rumbles into his ear and his dick twitches, his eyes rolling back for a second when an especially hard pump hits his prostate harshly.

“s..sorry soRRy- AHh~!” Shanks moans with a gasp as you spank him, the hand on his back moving to squeeze one of his pecs.

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for. How could I blame my lover for being himself? Even if he’s an attention whore.” You pinch his swollen nipple harshly, sending pain and pleasure through his body. “I’ll give you the attention you crave, enough to feel it when you show yourself off to everyone else.” Shanks thinks about being in front of his subordinates, trying to hide the pain in his lower half and cover any marks made by you. The feeling of him squeezing around you makes you chuckle. “You liked that, didn’t you? The thought of them finding out their strong chief got fucked like a slut then tried going to their celebration like it didn’t happen. Wonder what those girls would think, knowing that. They probably think or even remember you as some dominant man. Fantasizing about you when the truth is you’re addicted to getting used by your boyfriend.” You grab and lift his torso up, wrapping your arms around his waist so you can pound into him so hard he forgets how to think; only able to let out a weak groan as he cums for the 3rd time. All that comes out of his mouth are moans and whines now, unable to form words as tears form in his eyes from overstimulation. That doesn’t matter though, you know he can keep going. “Is my pretty slut tired? You can give me one more, right?” You ask and he shakes his head, gasping when you press a hand on his lower stomach. “You can, don’t underestimate yourself.” Shanks whines as you suck a hickey into his back, whispering dirty praises into his ear until he’s aroused enough to get hard again. “There you go~” He feels like he’s about to collapse as you kiss the back of his neck. “C’mon, be good for me, Captain.” You stop to grind into him, making him groan at the feeling of your dick massaging his prostate. Your cum is pushed further into him and his dick twitches in pleasure.

“(Y/n)..” His voice rumbles as his eyes close, mind clearing up just enough to say your name.

“Turn your head.” You tell him and press your lips against his, his eyes going half lidded with a mewl as you start to thrust again. He’s kissing back despite his foggy head, instinct from making out with you. It’s not done yet though, and once you feel like he’s had enough time to calm you start getting rough again. He’s struggling to keep himself up, your arm wrapping around his waist the only thing keeping his hips lifted.

‘I’m.. gonna pass out.’ Shanks manages to think. ‘Feels too good…!’ He curses that he didn’t take care of Kid sooner, instead choosing to calm the nerves of the people first. Out of character for the captain, but he can’t think rationally when he’s getting fucked to an inch of his life and his love is upset with him. His orgasm starts to form inside of him and he pulls away from the kiss to pant. He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die and it’s because he’s too handsome and charming to be unpopular. Your voice reaches his ears, but his brain can’t make it out very well, just knowing that it’s you behind him. At least you’re the one that’ll kill him, this might not be so bad. He lets out a gasp when you twitch inside him then grab his dick. "W-Wait wait!” He’s able to cum untouched, but he’ll need a bit of help this time. He grabs your wrist, weakly tugging to no avail as you start to jerk him off. Shanks looks back at you with teary eyes, pleading.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just this last time. After that you can go to that party and pretend you’re a perfect handsome man. For now,” It doesn't work. You tighten your grip and he sobs. “I just need you to cum again for me.” He looks forward, tears streaming from his eyes as he feels himself reaching that peak again. Finally, he lets out a loud broken cry as he shakes and spasms around you. “Fuck you’re so pretty like this.” You coo into his ear as it rips through him like lightning, pain and pleasure filling his body. You can’t hold back longer either, the urge to cum into him again filling your mind. Your grunts mix with his weak whimpers, so slutty and vocal for you. “I-I want you to remember this, everytime someone puts their hands or eyes on you with want, I want you to remember how easily you moan for my c-cock.” You grunt out, ending your sentence with your dick shooting cum into his warm walls. You don’t know if he heard you say that, but you know his body will remember for him. After a while of catching your breath you pull out of him, a lewd sticky noise accompanying before seeing your cum flow out of him. “Fuck, what a sight..." You mumble, burning the image into your head. Sweat glistens on his back and his head spins before he goes limp. “Ah.” You lay him down and turn him over onto his back, your breath catching in your throat. His hair sticks to his forehead, tears staining his face and his lips swollen with kissing and biting. There’s hand marks on his waist and hips, bite marks around his swollen nipples. He’s completely wrecked, his closed eyes opening just to look at you for a few seconds before he manages to give a weak smile; then he passes out. “Oops.” You exclaim, then look at the clock in the room. At this rate he’s gonna be late, but looking back at him you doubt he can go in this state; even if the thought is slightly nice to think about. Just a bit. Plus, your body is also a bit exhausted, to be honest. Love conquers all, though, and you get off of the bed and onto your feet; picking up your unconscious boyfriend to clean him up as best you can. It’s a bit difficult when he’s unconscious, but you make sure to use warm water and lots of care. He stays asleep the entire time, which isn't too surprising since he can sleep through most things; though he does make cute hums in his sleep when you rinse off his hair and snores when you’re drying him off. Once he’s all cleaned up you change the sheets quickly and place him onto the bed. It’s a good thing you’re strong, Shanks isn’t light by any means. You stand there, staring at him. ‘Is he.. gonna be able to go like this?’ You ask yourself, seeing his burnt out body. ‘I’ll go see Hongo just in case.’ As soon as you step into Hongo’s office he tosses icepacks and ointments to you.

“Here.” He’s too used to you and Shanks’s antics to be unprepared or surprised, especially when he could hear his captain’s moans while walking through the hallway to get to his office. “Seriously, I don’t know if I should be impressed with him or you that you guys manage to make that much noise. We even put soundproofed it too.” Hongo says with a sigh.

“I’m just that good.” You gloat jokingly, holding the items in your arms.

“Yeah, well, we don’t need to know to this extent.” The doctor replies and you laugh a little. “I don’t know how rough you were with him, but people are gonna be disappointed if the captain doesn’t go.” Your eyebrows furrow s the consequences of your actions settle in. “Don’t make that expression. He’s grown, he knew what he was doing.” You tilt your head in confusion but Hongo just waves you off to figure it out yourself. It’s when you get back to your shared room when you put the pieces together, could it have been on purpose? No way, right? Shanks is on the bed, snoring loudly. You walk over and put an icepack on his neck, causing him to jolt awake.

“Cold!” He yelps, coughing afterwards from the strain of his voice. You hand him a glass of water, he takes it and gulps it down. “Thanks, sweetiepie.” You stare at him and he’s confused. “What, do I have something on my face? Other than handsomeness, of course.” His voice is raspy, but you still catch the slight nervousness.

“Did you make me jealous on purpose?” You ask him and he quickly avoids eye contact. “So you did.” He scratches the back of his head.

“I didn’t think you would get that jealous.” The redhead mumbles and you resist the urge to shake him.

“I knew it was weird, you were leaning into those kisses and you didn’t need to put your hand near her ass either.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as Shanks laughs anxiously. He pats his lap.

“C’mon~ It’s not that big a deal. Plus, my hand was an appropriate distance away from her ass. I would kn-” You grab and squeeze his nose harshly. “Owowow sorry sorry, I couldn’t resist the joke!” If he wasn’t already a wreck you would’ve bonked his head by now.

“You’re going to the banquet.” You state, letting go of his nose.

“I want to, but I’m a little.. well..” He motions to his naked body covered in marks. “I’m getting old too, my hips hurt like hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if you aged them.”

“I said earlier that you would go, yeah? So you’re going. I’ll carry you over there like a pretty princess if I have to.” You tell him and he gets a serious look on his face as he actually considers the pros and cons of being carried like a pretty princess. The pros are he doesn’t have to walk over there and he can just use you instead of having to get up, the cons are that his crew would make fun of him and he isn’t sure how the rest would react. “You seemed pretty interested in people finding out earlier.” His cheeks tint slightly at that, he would allow it if it was just his immediate crew but there’s too many reasons to not do the same in front of everyone else.

“I’ll go, you can carry me some other time.” He stands up and almost falls over until you catch him. “Shit, you did a bigger number than me than I thought.” Shanks doesn’t want to leave everyone hanging though. Thankfully, you two are used to this. You put him down on the bed and put ointment on any bigger marks or bites, he shivers a little when you put it on his nipples. Once that’s done you dress him up and ice his eyes and lips. “Can’t see.” He says as the icepack covers his vision, voice muffled by the one on his lips.

“Hold it.” You tell him and he takes over icepack duty, you take the chance to put makeup over any visible marks. Would be easier to just button up his shirt but that would cause way more attention than a few faint marks. Once everything’s done he puts the icepacks down. To be honest, his face still looks like a mess.

“Maybe we can put some lipstick on me, only if you kiss it on tho-” You put the icepack back on his lips. Should be fine, Shanks looks a little rough all the time anyway. Maybe you guys can say it was the heat that did it.

………………

“Woohoo! Congratulations!” Yeah the excuse didn’t work. At least everyone was happy for you, even the women from before. They seemed really bummed at first but they changed their mind when they saw Shanks’s face and the faint marks. They started going to you instead or staring at Shanks in awe. Apparently it’s way more interesting to stare at a handsome man slightly wrecked than try and have him when he’s taken. Love conquers all, even if their curious stares are a little embarrassing.

“You’re so noisy.” You thrust harshly again and he lets out a pathetic whimper, yet you don’t let up. Hands trail from his waist to his chest, pulling him close to you while fondling his pecs. Thumbs go to his nipples and lightly circle them before flicking quickly, ending with a pinch and pull that makes the captain arch his head up and let out a groan. “You really like it, hm?” You’re really the one most into it, but he’s loving it too. “Already big, would be full of milk once I knock you up.” Shanks’s head is spinning. This dumb breeding kink between you two despite him being male. You give them another firm squeeze and he cums hard, your hands fondling through his orgasm. White covers his abdomen before leaking onto the bedsheets, letting out another weak spurt from you letting out your own seed.

Once Shanks’s head focuses enough to be coherent he notices you still fondling his chest.

“Jeez, give the things a break, will you?” You pinch one of his nipples and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You’re harsh to them, hun.”

“Just appreciating them. The massaging is good for milk production, right?”

“Pervert.” You scoff.

“Says the man who was riding me a week ago begging for a baby.” Shanks also gets way too lost in the moment.

“Ahh,” He snaps his fingers. “touché.” You pull out of him and he shivers at the feeling of liquid leaking from his ass. “You’re still the one always talking about it.”

“Yet you don’t stop me.” He gives you a cheeky smile and you both kiss.

_____________

Shanks itches at his chest through his shirt, it’s been feeling strange lately.

“What’re you doing?” Lucky Roux asks, setting down oatmeal in front of Shanks in the kitchen. The captain makes a displeased face. “You wanted something sweet and easy and now you’re staring at me like that.”

“Reminds me of when we had to really budget for food.” He grumbles, taking a bite of the oatmeal expecting the worst; but eyes twinkle. It’s chocolatey.

“(Y/n) told me to add it along with the almonds.” The redhead has always been partial to chocolate, eating bars of it with big bites in his childhood til his stomach hurt; yet never tiring of it. “Answer my question from before, Captain.”

“Hm.” He takes another bite. “It’s nothing much, my chest has been feeling weird lately.”

“…Your heart?” The large man looks nervous but his captain shakes his head.

“No, the flesh, not inside.” The chef relaxes, he won’t have to make a new diet for heartburn. “I think—nevermind.” He can’t tell Lucky that he thinks it’s because you’ve been massaging them too hard during sex. The chef slides the bowl of oatmeal away from Shanks. “Okay! It’s from the bedroom.”

“Oh.” He slides it back. “I don’t want to know anymore. Why’d you tell me?” Shanks almost falls for the bait but chooses to scarf down the oatmeal instead.

“I should tell you something else.” Lucky tilts his head. “I actually… no nevermind.” The captain turns around and leaves a laughing Lucky.

He stops outside of the door and presses at one of his pecs, he’ll let his mind wander to the chocolate oatmeal instead. It would’ve been nice to savor it more. While lost in the sadness of quick eating he feels a sudden squeeze to his chest. There’s only one pervert on this ship who would do this to a grown man. “Hello to you too.”

“I was going to say hi but you looked so out of it that I wanted to tease you a little.” You kiss your lover on the cheek and he chuckles. “How are you feeling? Was the chocolate good?”

“It was. If I wasn’t tired of oatmeal I might ask for that everyday.” Alas, his dislike for oatmeal has won over chocolate. Why would he care anyway? He could just have the chocolate alone.

“As long as you’re happy.” You rub your cheek against his and he rubs back, flinching when you squeeze his pec. You immediately pull away. “What happened!? Don’t tell me you’re hiding an injury-“

“No, no, I’m not. My chest has just been feeling weird lately.” You go to his front and tug down his shirt to examine both pecs. No bruises, irritation, or lumps. The fact that you fret over him like this makes him happy but he doesn’t like seeing you distressed. He pats your back. “I’m alright~ You’re worrying over nothing. They’re just sensitive from the ‘massage’ yesterday. It doesn’t hurt, just feels a little odd, that’s all.” You’re still worried but it really seems like everything is okay. Your experience in feeling your boyfriend’s chest would alert you to anything out of the ordinary.

“I guess I should lay off for a while.” The thought of not being able to touch your lover’s beautiful pecs is depressing, especially when he likes the contact. You can tell by his hesitant expression that he’ll find a way to be touchy-feely with you anyway. As you expected, Shanks gets closer to you and gently presses his body against your side.

“I’ll make up for it.” This might be torture. One hand goes to his waist and the other to his ass. Well.. “Hmm~” he’s got plenty of other parts to squeeze. The redhead smiles happily and rubs his face against you, he really enjoys any sort of touch.

_______________

However, it’s getting to be too much. You two have had sex a few times after that conversation, and it’s been great, but his pecs are feeling more and more off; bloated. He’s starting to get worried that he popped some sort of blood vessel but it doesn’t hurt, just very tender. It hasn’t gotten less tender with time either, just more sensitive.

Shanks sits on his bed, putting on a shirt that rubs against his nipples. He twitches from the contact.

“Fuck, did I get more sensitive from not getting touched?” He worries, considering you’ve been careful with him. He pokes at the tan skin through his shirt. Squishy. Bloated, tight. He starts to massage one,

Knock knock knock

then quickly pulls his hand away when someone knocks on the door.

“Shanks?” It’s you. “Are you okay? You didn’t come for breakfast immediately.” Oh. He looks at the clock on his wall and sees that he lost track of time. He’ll open the door for you.

“Sorry, I’m alright.” You look down at his chest. “Yeah?”

“They got bigger.” You would know as an expert.

“They did?” He looks down as he trusts your expertise.

“Shanks, maybe you should go to Hongo for this.” He hums in disapproving awkwardness. They really don’t hurt. They also feel really really sensitive, but you’re right here.

“Maybe instead you could help me?” Why would he bother the ship’s doctor with such a need?

“Wha-” He pulls you into his room and locks the door. “You can’t just-” He kisses you and his chest presses against your body, his tongue prying your mouth open to explore. The squish of the pecs you haven’t been able to enjoy, the needy tongue licking around your mouth; you’re giving in.

“I have a perfectly amazing lover to help and he doesn’t want to?” He pouts sadly and your heart stutters. Dammit, he’s distracting you and it’s working. You kiss him, backing him up slowly until he’s sat on the bed. Your hand instinctively goes to his chest and you grope it, he gasps and his back arches.

“Ah! I forgot to…” Your words trail off as you spot a wet patch on his shirt where his nipple is. You undo his shirt and pull it off his body quickly.

“Did you snap? It feels nice actually.” You grope again and a bead of white comes out. Shanks shivers from the sensation. “What are you doing…” It’s his turn for his words to trail off, he sees it.

Milk..?

You pinch gently and another bead comes out. An idea pops into your mind and you put your hand on his stomach.

“I don’t think this is from pregnancy.” He says that but pauses. Anything can happen in the New World.

The both of you quickly dress Shanks and run into the dining hall, you grabbing Hongo and slinging him over your shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Medical emergency.” Shanks states seriously and that switches on doctor mode for the blonde.

He’s placed into the medical office and gets his tools.

“What is it? Is it your chest? I told you something might be off and you chose to ignore me-”

“I might be pregnant.”

….

“what.”

“Ah, I’m.. uh..” Shanks realizes how ridiculous he sounds and gets nervous on how to explain such a thing.

“He’s producing milk.” You answer for him. Good save. Hongo motions for Shanks to sit down.

“You don’t have a womb, Captain.” He pulls out pregnancy tests. “But we can test anyway.” Both of you feel calmer that this is taken seriously.

The redhead lays down and undresses so Hongo can feel for any new organ that may have appeared.

“I don’t feel anything new, nor bumps anywhere else that would suggest a tumor.” He gently squeezes his chest to leak milk, feeling and sniffing. “This is definitely breast milk, though.” A few more tests are done and Hongo takes blood from your lover, then does a urine test. “The blood test will take a day, but the urine test…” He checks the results. “Negative.” The both of you sigh in relief.

Hongo did a few imaging tests, no tumors. Shanks starts itching at his chest again.

“Stop that.” Hongo can hear it without looking.

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“They’re full of milk, I’m not surprised.” The imaging tests also showed a high amount of milk stored in the chest. “My worry is that you’re producing enough to cause discomfort, and it could get clogged..” Hongo mumbles, both you and Shanks getting nervous. “Once I’m done with the blood test I’ll make medicine for you. For now.. you’ll have to empty them yourself.” Shanks glances at you. “You know, the likely cause of this is too much prolactin from excessive stimulation.” Oops. “So don’t use excessive force or stimulation while emptying the-”

_________

“Hnn~” You massage Shanks’s waist, kissing him deeply while he makes little pants.

“You’re still loud.” It’s like he just loves the action of making noise. You pull him closer to you while undressing him, his own hand tugging off your shirt. “I’m not supposed to be rough with you.”

“No fun.” He winks, pulling away. Having this taken seriously is too stressful for him. “Then go ahead.” He positions his chest outwards and you stare, your hand trembling as you reach out. You gently cup one and he bites his lip, you squeeze harder and he lets out a whine as milk comes out.

‘He’s doing this on purpose.’ You know, and that thought is only solidified when you gently pinch and pull. Milk squirts out more into your hand and Shanks arches his back with a pornographic moan. “Stop.”

“I can’t help that it feels good.” Yeah he may be exaggerating the noises but it does feel good, and it’s honestly very relieving having this come out.

“It looks like it’s coming out properly.” You move to wipe your hand and grab a large container to store it but when you turn back there’s a frown on Shanks’s face. “What?”

“It feels cold having you just put what I’m making in a container, are you going to throw it out? After my body’s effort?”

“Did you expect me to drink it?”

“...Well it’s not like there’s a baby to.” You’re losing control. He actually looks somewhat distressed. The perverted nature of your breeding kink, your love lactating like he’s pregnant, the fact that it feels good, and the sadness he feels over being treated like something gross. You can’t let him stay like this. You lean in and kiss him, gently and lovingly. His hand hovers over your shoulder before resting on it and kissing back. You pull back and your kisses trail down.

“Were you getting insecure?” You gently kiss one of his nipples and Shanks’s breath hitches.

“Slightly, I wouldn’t actually blame you for not wanting to.” You hum and lock your lips around the nub and gently suck. Milk floods into your mouth, pent up from the time stuck inside his chest. Your love shivers above you, grunting in both relief and pleasure. After it stops coming out easily you switch to the other and do the same. You pull back and drink.

“Yum.”

“Pervert.” He mumbles and you kiss him. It feels better, not so bloated anymore. You continue to suck on each one, there’s a lot more than you thought. While this is happening a jolt of pleasure comes from your dick, your boyfriend is grinding against you. “Hey, we’re already here.”

“Was this your plan from the start?”

“No, but it was a possibility.” Shanks undresses himself and lays down, making a small huff when lifting his hips up. “There’s no way you could resist me anyway, right?” He’s begun to pant, not actually sure while using his fingers to spread himself open.

“We’re not supposed to.” You grumble despite undressing with a boner as well. You put the tip to his entrance and he bites his lip, gasping when you thrust inside all at once. Warm, wet, tight but welcoming at the same time. Shanks pants harder but you start to thrust.

“Wait-“ You interrupt him with a harsh thrust.

“Don’t ‘wait’ me when you’ve been seducing me this entire time. If you really want me to wait then push me off, hm?” You lean forward in front of his face, he grips the back of your head into a kiss; then to his chest. They’re softer than usual, warm and full with puffy nipples that are so easy to latch your lips onto. The perfect milk maker, like he’s making more milk the more you drink. Making more with each thrust. “You really would make a perfect mother.” He flinches at your words, pulsing around you. “Why don’t I make you one, right now? You’re already lactating. If I fuck my cum into you over and over then maybe you really will get pregnant.” You bite one of his nipples softly and play with the other to his delight.

“Your words are insane.” Shanks managed to get out, but locks his legs around you with a smile. “Go ahead and breed me then.” You grip his waist tightly and pull him back into your thrusts. His eyes unfocus while widening. “c-cumming, cumming.” The redhead mumbles before letting out a moan, cumming over himself. So pretty, so yours as his lewd walls squeeze your dick in pulses with the throbbing of his own cock letting out cum onto himself. The taste of milk lingers on your tongue, pleasure is building up at the sight. You’re getting him pregnant, your love. Your first attempt for today.

“Here’s your first load then.” You pull him flush against your hips and fill him, feeling the stickiness lightly coat his insides; it’ll be much thicker by the end of this.

You pause for a moment before moving him onto his front, ass up, then plunge into him again. Oops. You’re too turned on to stop right now.

Your boyfriend stuffs his face into the pillow with a groan, in this position you can thrust perfectly onto his prostate, his mind is going numb while he pushes back against you. What’s more, you can glance to see those breasts rubbing against the mattress every time you move. The only reason he hasn’t came again is because he just has. Enjoy the view.

You adjust his hips more lifted to spread his ass open with your palms.

In and out.

Sheath and unsheath.

Watching the way you sink into him over and over. How he takes you so perfectly, how much his body wants to be bred. You grip onto one of his asscheeks, have the hormones made these softer as well? He suddenly shivers and you flinch as his insides tighten around you to cum again. “I haven’t gotten to savor this position yet, love.”

“Sorry.” He muffles into the pillow before flopping onto his side to catch his breath. You notice wet spots where his nipples were.

“What a waste of your milk.” You rub the spots, then gently rub his chest; they feel fuller already. At this point your stomach is going to burst before they can finish producing. You kiss his cheek and put him back onto his back into a mating press, perfect for this. “What a fitting position. My seed can go as deep as possible and stay inside.” You give a few shallow thrusts.

“hurry up then..” His heel gently hits your shoulder. Impatient. You lean down and kiss him, biting his lip from his brattiness. Slow, slow thrusts. “Don’t do this to me.” The redhead complains before trying to lift his hips up to meet yours. You pull away and he throws his head back with a huff.

“I promised to breed you but I can take my time to do it.”

“..Please.”

“Hm?” You give a single hard thrust.

“Fuck me, breed me, please please. I want your babies so- oh~!” You lean down and start to thrust earnestly. “Yes! Like that!♡” He’s cute when he tries to be bratty to keep control, but it’s nice to have him let go. His chest starts to move strongly with each thrust like proper tits. They’re begging to be milked again but you’ll leave them for a while to fuck him properly. You still want to enjoy fucking jizz into his womb. Your cum. That pleasure builds up quicker with the desperation to breed your desperate lover. Fucking him, breeding him. Slamming into his hole over and over before it all comes out.

Filling him again.

Moments pass with your second load adding another layer dripping down deeper into his abdomen. “Feels weird, feels weird.” His body squirms with the feeling and he orgasms with milk dripping from him with each throb.

Huff

Huff

“How much are you gonna end up making!?” You know his body can be lewd, and he’s got tons of stamina and health despite his age; but is he seriously making this much? It could be your fault for telling him over and over you’re getting him pregnant, though… hm. Placebo.

You lift him up onto your lap and rummage around for the container. “Hold this.” He grabs onto the large glass and you hold his breasts with your dick still to the hilt inside of him. You look at his face and he notices, locking eyes with you and giving you a wobbly grin. You massage them lightly and he braces before you grip them and aim into the container, milk going inside.

“I feel a little cow-like, sweetheart.” He says while trembling. You rub the tips of his nipples and shallowly thrust into him.

“What kind of cow is having sex with his boyfriend while getting milked?” His legs spread instinctively, leaning forward and struggling to grip onto the container. “Don’t drop your hard work.” Your shaft is pressed against his sweet spot, teasing it with shallow thrusts; keeping his mind fuzzy while getting emptied. You’re cruel, or maybe just horny, because your fingers go to the tips and tease them every so often; but he’s oh so into it. It’s obvious, the way he occasionally twitches around your cock, the way he lightly bounces onto it. You squeeze and pull, press and flick, it almost feels like you’re done. You’re about to finish too.

Spurt

He suddenly squeezes around you, cumming while letting the last of the milk release from his tits. It filled the gallon, this is really impressive. The sudden squeeze and sight has you shivering, not finishing as hard but it’s not hard to finish with Shanks.

Crack

The container cracks where he’s gripping it.

“Ah, I squeezed it too hard while cumming.” Panic sets in, you pull out to rummage around. There are multiple containers to switch to. They’re supposed to be used to empty his breasts over time but this works too. Milk saved. “You’re really passionate about this.” You hold the container out to him, slowly tilting a little into his mouth. “Mm. Actually pretty good. I’ve got a sweet tooth though so I’m pretty biased along with it being my milk.” Wow he really did not hesitate to try it.

“I drank a lot already so I think I’m gonna be done for today.”

“Y- Dammit.”

“What?”

“I was about to say ‘Yeah and we should save some for the baby.’” Placebo effect. Looks like his milk isn’t gonna go away soon even with the medicine and your “help”. Or is this help going to make it take longer…