Mom, pick me up. I'm scared.

Alex

When you finally uttered your shyly spoken plea, Alex became a bit more...cruel, oddly enough. In the way that he wants to hear you beg even more.

"Oh yeah?" Alex panted, his eyes becoming even more heavily lidded as he felt your pussy clench even tighter around his cock at the sound of his low voice, raspy with lust as he lowered himself closer to your face. It was rare that you begged him for something; could you blame him for wanting to milk the occasion a little?

Especially when it came to him not pulling out, he had been dreaming of this moment since the day you two started fucking!

"How much are you willing to beg for it?" His steadily growing smirk became even more apparent on his face as he picked up his pace, lewd plap plap plaps echoing from where your sexes met as each thrust punched out another desperate 'Please' from your lips.

"Let me hear every single plea, baby." He panted.

"After all...you don't want me to pull out, right?"

♡ - Right.

"Please—!" The word tore out from your lungs repeatedly as you gripped the sheets underneath you, Alex having flipped you onto your hands and knees while he fucked you from behind, his hands dragging your hips to meet each and every single one of his thrusts as lewd squelches and tiny spurts of your slick erupted from your pussy. You didn't know what exactly came over you, but you wanted more of Alex, soooooo much more to the point where the risk of pregnancy via him cumming inside of you...filling you up—

It didn't matter.

"P-Please...!" You loudly cried out as you looked behindn you to look Alex in the eye. "Cum inside me...N-Need it so bad—! Oooh...!" A wicked smirk crept onto Alex's lips at your needy begging, each one spurring him closer and closer to his already fast-approaching orgasm. He wished that you would've let out your cute pleas earlier...he would've held himself back, made you really work for his cum.

But, he supposed, after this round...it wasn't like the two of you were stopping anytime soon.

He'd have plenty of opportunities to make you beg for him to cum inside of you, again and again and again.

"Yeeahhh..." Alex let out a drawn-out moan at the sight of you fucking yourself back onto him. "Keep begging for my cum...let's see how much you'll work for it." You swore to yourself that you were willing to do anything at this point, your cunt clenhcing around Alex's repeatedly as you slowly built yourself as well as Alex up to your respective orgasms, your thrusts back onto his throbbing cock gorwing sloppier and sloppier as tiny whines of his name began to leave your lips, now begging for him to fuck you faster and harder. "P-Please...Oh!" The force of Alex's thrusts threatened to punch all the air you had left in your lungs straight out.

Your hands gripped and threatened to tear up the sheets beneath you, cries and babbles of Alex's name repeatedly falling from your lips as if you were a broken record, until you suddenly came. The force of your sudden climax hit you like a freight train, a scream tearing from your throat as you could hardly hear the sound of Alex's groan of praise as well as admiration at the mess you were making around him. The sight of your dripping cunt, squirting out your juices...the brunette only managed a few more thrusts before he stilled against your ass, giving you exactly what you had been begging for as rope after rope of his cum flooded your insides, painting your walls white, and while some of his cum even dripped out from your hole.

And as Alex began to slowly climb down from his high—his cock twitched with renewed vigor, causing a confused whine to slip from your lips that was followed up with gasping moans when you felt Alex begin to move once more. He wasn't through with you, not even by a longshot.

Harvey

When a stuttered "Don't pull out...please" left your lips, it caused Harvey to nearly cum on the spot once the words had fully registered in his head.

For a split second, he was going to recommend against cumming inside of you. The two of you had stated multiple times that you both wanted to enjoy your relationship for a few years, to not have to worry about any accidents and the likes!

Yet, as if you had sensed his thoughts, a moan hissed through his teeth when you began to move your hips, tugging his face closer to your own as you had that look in your eye that Harvey could never bring himself to resist.

"C'mon~" You purred. "Don't you wanna cum inside me? I know you wanna..." As if on command, Harvey began to move his hips, his already lust-filled gaze becoming more and more unfocused as he drowned in the sound of your moans, your voice, and the way you looked at him.

"I thought—I thought you wanted to be careful...I-I thought—Oh Yoba—that you didn't want children yet..."

You clicked your tongue with a playful roll of your eyes. "I can always get a pill. You sell them, right~?"

He did.

♡ - And he was embarrassed that he had completely forgotten about that fact; he quietly blamed your pliant little pussy for that. After all, his head was absolutely dizzy with lust when you had uttered the words. As if his mind was on a spinning wheel that only spun faster and faster the more that he fucked you, each thrust harder than the last as Harvey nearly folded you into a mating press just to reach you and his individual highs even faster.

He swore to himself that he wanted to act like a gentleman, to focus on your orgasm first, but...what you had asked him— it was nearly too much for his lust-addled brain to handle in that moment! "Fuck..." Harvey panted out, his forehead practically glued to your own as his eyes were firmly shut, each tense breath of his escaping through his clenched teeth as the lewd squelching noises between the two of you grew louder and louder.

Each thrust was fervent, full of want and pure need as Harvey chased after his orgasm inside the warmth of your pliant cunt.

The second that you reminded him that you could always get a pill from his pharmacy—he just couldn't stop himself.

He was embarrassed to admit to himself that he had been wanting to cum inside of you for a while, not as a kink but purely because leaving your cunt...just as he was on the verge of orgasm...it threatened to nearly pain him. And now that you've given him permission? He was addicted, the tightness of your cunt, the sound of your moans, and how you cried out his name, encouraging him to lose himself inside your cunt, to fill you up with his cum— "O-Oh Yoba..." He shakily whimpered out, his forehead slowly lifting off of yours before his face tucked itself into the side of your neck.

"So good...sososososo good—!"

"Cum inside me, Harvey~" You managed to purr out despite your words being broken up between moans and gasps. "M-Make me—oh fuck—make me feel sooooo good...! Please...!"

He would, he couldn't think of a reason—not that he wanted to—as to why he should do otherwise.

Quiet, almost reverent yesyesyes's left Harvey's lips repeatedly, his cock throbbing inside of you and oozing out even more of his pre-cum as he neared the verge of his orgasm. The feeling of his dick twitching inside of you so much, it made your clit ache even more with each thrust he delivered inside of you, tears of pleasure building up inside of your eyes until you felt it.

That pouring warmth that you had begged for as Harvey released a deep-bellied groan of your name into your neck, his hands gripping your sides even tighter as he stilled against your pussy, his cock twitching with every release he let out inside of you until he ultimately stilled with a heavy yet satisfied sigh. Until...his body twitched with realization. "You...you didn't cum—"

You answered his words immediately with a smirk. "I know," You giggled. "I'll have plenty of time to cum though! When I milk you dry~" Harvey's eyes widened as his face flushed even harder. Now that he had given you what you had wanted...you were feeling greedy, and Harvey didn't mind it in the slightest.

Shane

Like Alex, he becomes meaner (then what he's already displaying during sex, that is) and wants you to continue begging him not to pull out, and even goes so far as to ask you to do some of the work to prove to him that you reallyyyyy wanted it.

He's been wanting to shoot his load inside you for the longest now, but he respected your wishes, and plus, he didn't feel as if the two of you were ready to have kids yet.

But that single plea of yours made him change his mind completely within that short timeframe of you tearfully begging him.

"D-Don't pull out, you say..." Shane mocked you as his thrusts suddenly became slower but harder, each drag of his cock threatening to make him slip out of your oozing sex.

And every single time—you let out the most neediest sound.

"S-Shane...don't—"

"Don't rush me, I'm still thinking about whether or not I should listen to you," He tsked.

♡ - "Maybe I should just ignore you, huh? I've been wanting to cum inside this greedy hole of yours for months, and now you want to beg for me to fill you up?" Shane's tone almost sounded as if he were genuinely angry, yet despite your blurry vision on account of your unshed tears—you were able to see the mirth in his eyes.

He found this entire situation absolutely hilarious.

His cock twitched with the urge to cum inside of you, to fill and plug you up to make sure that not even a single drop of his cum was wasted by pooling out of your aching cunt and onto the ruined bedsheets. But, you sounded so cute when you begged that he just had to be a little greedy and ask you to beg him some more!

"D-Didn't mean to make you wait—d-didn't want—Oh fuck...!"

"Didn't want what?" Shane asked mockingly as you watched over your shoulder, the way he cocked his head to the side as his already present smirk grew on his lips. "Didn't want to risk me knockin' you up?" He couldn't deny the way his cock twitched inside of you at such a thought...he wasn't eager for kids by any means, but the idea of watching his cum drip from your clenching hole...it made Shane's grip on your hips tighten as he fucked you with even more vigor as he started to chase after this image in his head as well as you and his respective orgasms.

Each thrust he delivered into your greedy hole, dripping with your slick, threatened to take the very air out of your lungs as you gripped the sheets underneath you with all the strength you could muster up in the moment, anything to keep you from slipping into pleasurable insanity born from Shane's cock as he whispered lustful nothings.

"Sooooo good, y'know that?" Shane murmured to you as he began to bow over you, his mouth hanging open to gulp down every little bit of air he could as his balls drew up closer to him, in anticipation of his orgasm. "After I fill you up—Fuuuuckkk...hope you ain't too tired...gonna fill you till you're shaking."

Your mother, Lady Sterling, swept past in a rustle of deep green silk, already thinking several steps ahead. She was image-conscious to her core, already mentally cataloging which gowns would make the best impression in the capital.

“Arabella, do not let the maids pack your sapphire necklace with the everyday pieces,” she said sharply. “It must travel with us in the small case.”

Arabella Sterling—the eldest—moved with elegant precision, directing a maid with a flick of her gloved hand. She was socially polished, the kind of young woman who knew exactly how to command a room without raising her voice. “Of course, Mother. I’ve already seen to it.”

Juliette Sterling, the second sister, followed close behind, more playful but with a sharper tongue that often followed Arabella’s lead. She adjusted a ribbon in her hair and shot you a quick, amused glance. “Make sure you don’t pack anything too dull, little sister. No one notices such things in Gothmere.”

You offered to help carry a smaller crate of books, but your mother waved you off without looking. “Not that one, dear—you’ll wrinkle it.”

When you reached for a stack of folded linens instead, Juliette interrupted smoothly. “Leave it. You always choose the dullest colors anyway.”

You said nothing. You simply set the linens down and moved on.

Your mother’s voice drifted after you, crisp and final: “Try not to make yourself… forgettable.”

That line always landed the same way—quiet, precise, and perfectly aimed.

Because you already were.

———

You slipped away to your small corner of the house, the one place that still felt entirely yours. In the corner of the morning room, beneath a window that overlooked the lake, sat your painting supplies. You gathered them carefully: brushes wrapped in soft cloth, small jars of pigment neatly labeled in your own neat hand, a few precious sheets of good paper protected between boards.

This was your escape.

While your sisters focused on appearance—ribbons, lace, the perfect tilt of a hat—you focused on creation. On capturing light on water, the curve of a leaf, the way emotion lived in the tilt of a chin or the shadow beneath an eye.

You tucked the supplies into a small leather satchel, fingers steady and practiced.

As the last crates were being sealed, you froze.

Your diary.

It was not in the stack of books you had packed. It was still at the lake—left behind on the old stone bench where you often sat to sketch and write when the house became too loud with your sisters’ voices and your mother’s expectations.

Immediate panic flickered in your chest. That diary was more than thoughts. It held sketches, secrets, fragments of who you were when no one was watching.

Your maid, Clara—a gentle, round-faced young woman who had been with you since you were twelve—noticed your expression and stepped closer.

“Let someone fetch it, miss,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t be running about today.”

You shook your head, already reaching for your cloak. “No. I’ll go.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “But the carriage will be ready soon—”

“I won’t be long.”

You didn’t wait for permission. You simply slipped out the side door, heading for the stables.

You took your father’s horse—something a proper lady was not supposed to do alone, especially not on the day of a major move. But you didn’t hesitate. You mounted with practiced ease, scarf tied securely around your head and lower face—not just for the wind, but symbolically. You were hidden.

The wind picked up as you rode, tugging at your cloak. Clara called after you from the doorway, voice carrying on the breeze: “At least cover your head properly!”

You didn’t slow.

The lake appeared soon enough—quiet, reflective, the surface mirroring the pale sky like polished glass. Tall grass swayed along the banks. It was familiar. Safe.

You dismounted quickly, searching the old stone bench where you had sat yesterday.

Urgency built in your chest.

Then—

You heard it.

Another horse.

He arrived without fanfare.

But his presence shifted the atmosphere all the same.

Dark, structured riding attire. Impeccable posture. Controlled movements that spoke of high nobility even before you saw the quality of his boots or the fine leather of his gloves.

You tightened your scarf instinctively. You did not want to be seen.

He dismounted with fluid grace and led his horse to the water’s edge, speaking softly to the animal—low, calm words meant only for the horse.

He noticed you.

But he didn’t approach. He didn’t stare.

He simply… registered you.

Then looked away.

That alone told— you everything about him.

———

His horse moved a few steps, nosing through the grass near the bench.

It found something.

Your diary.

The horse nudged it, then bit the edge—slightly damaging the cover, wetting the corner with its mouth.

The young man reacted immediately—firm, controlled.

“No,” he said sharply to the horse, pulling it back with a gentle but decisive tug on the reins.

Then he called out to you, voice clear and even: “If that is what you’re searching for—it is here.”

You approached cautiously, still hidden behind the scarf.

He picked up the diary, glanced at it briefly—but did not open it. He respected boundaries.

Still, his tone carried quiet judgment when he spoke again. “You ought to be more mindful of where you leave your belongings.”

You didn’t shrink. You didn’t argue loudly either.

You simply replied, soft but direct: “And you ought to be more mindful of where your horse steps.”

It surprised him.

You took the diary from his hand. Your fingers brushed—just for a second.

A slight prick.

Not enough to hurt—but enough to notice.

His eyes snapped up—sharp, focused.

For the first time, he tried to see your face.

But the scarf hid you.

All he caught was your eyes—fleeting, guarded—and a brief impression of quiet defiance.

That lingered just a second too long.

A pause stretched between you.

Wind moved through the grass.

Something unspoken flickered in the air.

Then—

You stepped back.

Turned.

Left.

No goodbye. No courtesy.

He watched you go.

Not intrigued exactly.

But—not dismissive either.

A single thought flickered across his mind:

Unusual.

Then he let it go.

He mounted his horse and rode off without another glance.

———

You arrived back at the house in a rush.

The carriage was already prepared, horses stamping impatiently. Your family stood waiting, clearly irritated by the delay.

Your mother saw you and immediately reacted—voice sharp with exasperation. “Where have you been?!”

No concern. Only irritation.

You tried to explain— “I left my diary at the lake. I had to—”

She interrupted, already turning toward the carriage. “It doesn’t matter. Get in. We’re already late.”

Your sisters whispered to each other—mildly amused, dismissive.

You clutched your diary—still slightly damp, but still yours—and climbed into the carriage without another word.

You looked back once—toward the countryside, toward the lake, toward the life where you had always been unseen.

Then forward—

Toward Gothmere.

Where everything was about to change.

You had always been overlooked.

But not for much longer.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

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