Squeamish

The dim neon glow of the adult arcade flickered through the grimy windows as Colonel Caleb Xia pulled his cap low over his brow, slipping into the shadows of the back alley entrance. With a chest full of medals and a face that graced Farspace Fleet briefings on national TV, he couldn't afford scandals. But the weight of command, the endless strategy sessions, the lives hanging on his decisions, had left him frayed, his body humming with unspent tension. Tonight, he needed release, anonymous and raw, no strings, no faces.

He'd heard about this place from a discreet whisper in the officers' club, a seedy spot where men like him could vanish into the night. The gloryhole booth was tucked in the far corner, a narrow stall with a hole carved at waist height, shrouded in anonymity. Caleb locked the door behind him, heart pounding as he unzipped his jeans, his thick cock already half-hard from anticipation. He fed a few bills into the slot, and the partition hummed to life.

On the other side, you waited, knees on the padded floor, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down your spine. You'd come here for the rush, the power of being desired without the mess of expectations. The hole revealed a glimpse of tanned skin and a hardening shaft– impressive, veined, and throbbing with need. You licked your lips, leaning in to tease the tip with your tongue, swirling slow circles around the head.

Caleb groaned, low and guttural, his hands bracing against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough from years of barking orders. Your mouth was warm, eager, sucking him in deeper with each bob of your head. He thrust gently at first, testing the waters, but the sensation built like a storm– your lips stretching around his girth, tongue flicking the underside. He was bigger than most, filling your throat as you relaxed, taking him to the hilt.

He couldn't see you, but he imagined– soft curves, hungry eyes. "That's it, take it all," he rasped, hips bucking harder. The anonymity fueled him; no repercussions, just pure, filthy pleasure. But as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with expert pressure, he felt the edge approaching too soon. He pulled back slightly, breathing heavy, but you chased him, your hand wrapping around the base through the hole, stroking in tandem with your mouth.

"Goddamn, you're good," he growled, his control slipping. The stress melted away with each wet slurp, replaced by a fire that demanded more. He came hard, spilling down your throat in hot pulses, your swallowing milking every drop. But as he softened slightly, the ache didn't fade– it intensified. He was still hard, still needy. He slapped the partition. "Don't stop," he demanded, voice edged with command. "I need more."

You smiled around him, licking his tip clean, aroused by his desperation. Wiping your mouth, you stood, turning to press your ass against the hole, hiking up your poor excuse for a skirt. No panties– just slick, bare pussy, dripping from the taste of him. You guided his cock to your entrance, sinking back slowly, a moan escaping as he stretched you wide.

Caleb's eyes widened in the dim light. "Holy shit," he breathed, gripping the edges of the partition. You were tight, hot, clenching around him like a vice. He thrust forward, burying himself deep, the angle perfect for hitting that spot inside you. The booth shook with his rhythm, skin slapping against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly. Your hand slipped between your legs, circling your clit, chasing your own peak.

"You're so fucking wet," he panted, pace callous. "Take it, all of it." Sweat beaded on his forehead, his military-honed body driving into you with precision. He couldn't get enough– the way you pushed back, grinding, your muffled cries spurring him on. The risk, the rawness– it was intoxicating.

You came first, walls fluttering around him, soaking his cock as waves crashed over you. Caleb followed seconds later, groaning as he filled you, hips jerking erratically. But even as he pulled out, spent and slick, his body hummed for more. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, knowing he'd be back– already craving the stranger who matched his fire.

The days blurred into a haze of briefings and bullshit for Colonel Caleb Xia. That night at the gloryhole had been a spark in the dark– anonymous, filthy, and exactly what he'd needed to cut through the tension coiled in his gut like barbed wire. But it hadn't been enough. Not by a long shot. The memory of your tight, dripping pussy clenching around his cock haunted him during staff meetings, making him shift in his seat, his dick twitching at the phantom sensation. He craved more– the risk, the raw hunger, the way you'd taken him without a word, just bodies slamming together through that thin wall.

Two nights later, he was back. He didn't even change from his regalia, yet he still slipped into the arcade like a ghost. The booth called to him, and he locked himself in, feeding bills into the machine with shaking hands. His cock was already straining against his zipper, thick and heavy, veins pulsing with anticipation. He unbuckled swiftly and freed it, stroking slowly, waiting for the signal.

On your side, the thrill hadn't faded either. You'd replayed it in your mind countless times. The gruff voice barking commands, the girth that stretched you to your limits, the hot flood of his cum filling you up, were all ample fuel for your own self explorations.

Tonight, you were ready, dressed in nothing but a short robe that you shrugged off as soon as the partition activated. Kneeling, you peered through the hole, heart racing at the sight of him: rock-hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. You didn't hesitate when it pushed through the opening, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard, tongue lashing the slit to taste his saltiness.

"Fuck yes," Caleb growled, his hips jerking forward. "Suck it like you mean it." Your mouth was a vacuum, cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. Drool spilled down your chin, mixing with his pre-cum, as you bobbed faster, one hand cupping his balls through the hole, rolling them gently while the other stroked what wouldn't fit. He was massive, forcing your jaw wide, but the ache only made you wetter, your thighs slick already with arousal.

He thrust into your mouth, fucking your face with military precision. Cock sliding in deep, relentless strokes that made your eyes water. "Choke on it," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Take every inch." You did, relaxing your throat until your nose pressed against the wall, his pubes tickling through the gap. The booth reeked of sex, the wet gluck-gluck of your sucking echoing obscenely. He came with a muffled roar, flooding your mouth, cum spilling from the corners as you swallowed greedily, milking him dry.

But he didn't soften. "Not done," he panted, pulling out only to slap his still-hard cock against the hole. "Turn around. I want that sweet pussy again."

You stood, legs shaky, and backed up to the hole, spreading your cheeks to expose your soaked folds. "Fuck me," you whispered, the first words you'd spoken, voice husky and needy.

Caleb didn't need asking twice. He lined up and slammed in, burying himself balls-deep in one severe thrust. You cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, your walls fluttering around his invading girth. "Tight as fuck," he grunted, pulling back to ram in again, the partition rattling with the force. His hands gripped the edges, knuckles white, as he set a punishing pace of long, hard strokes that bottomed out, his balls slapping against the rim of the hole.

You braced against your wall, one hand reaching back to spread yourself wider, the other diving between your legs to rub your swollen clit. "Harder, Colonel," you moaned, guessing his rank from the authoritative bark in his voice and the jingle of what you thought were a chestful of medals. "Ruin me."

The title sent a jolt through him– fuck, she knew? But the anonymity held, and it only fueled his fire. "You asked for it," he snarled, pounding into you like a machine, hips snapping with enough force to bruise. Your juices squelched with each thrust, dripping down your thighs, the lewd sounds mixing with your whimpers and his grunts. He angled up, hitting your G-spot relentlessly, making stars burst behind your eyelids.

"God, you're soaking my cock," he groaned. "Cum for me– squeeze that pussy." You did, shattering around him, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Walls clamping down, you screamed, body convulsing as waves of pleasure drowned you. Caleb kept fucking through it, prolonging your high, his own building fast.

But he wasn't ready to end it. "Ass," he demanded, voice raw. "Give me your ass."

You hesitated for a split second, then nodded to yourself, lubing him up with your own slick before guiding his tip to your tighter hole. "Slow at first," you breathed, pushing back.

He eased in slowly as requested, the ring of muscle yielding to his thickness. "Fuck, so tight," he hissed, sweat pouring down his back. Once seated, he waited for your signal– a wiggle of your hips– then started moving, shallow thrusts building to deeper ones. The burn turned to bliss, your fingers frantic on your clit as he claimed your ass, stretching you wide.

"Take it all, you dirty girl," he commanded, pace quickening. "I'm gonna fill this hole too." You moaned louder, the fullness overwhelming, pushing you toward another edge. He reached through the hole as best he could, his fingers finding your pussy and plunging in, fucking you in tandem. Your fingers on your clit, his cock in your ass, his fingers curling inside you, they all broke you. You came again, harder, squirting around his fingers, ass clenching rhythmically around his shaft. Caleb lost it, bellowing as he erupted, hot ropes of cum spraying your insides. He pumped through his release, drawing it out until you both trembled.

Pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from you, a filthy sight that had him half-hard again already. "Tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than you. "I'll be back."

You smiled, spent and satisfied, whispering back, "I'll be waiting, Colonel." The game was on– anonymous no more in spirit, but the repercussions?

Still safely walled away.

For now.

He didn’t show the next night. In fact, he had handcuffed himself to his desk that evening and tossed the key across the office, stuck until the morning cleaning crew came in. "Self control"

Colonel Caleb Xia stared at the grainy security footage on his laptop, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. It had been a week since that second mind-blowing encounter at the gloryhole, and the obsession had sunk its hooks deep into his soul. The way you'd whispered "Colonel" through the partition, the slick heat of your body yielding to him again and again– it wasn't just sex anymore. It was ownership. No one else could have you. The thought of you on your knees for some other faceless prick in that dingy arcade made his blood boil, a possessive rage twisting in his gut like a live wire. You were his now, whether you knew it or not.

With his rank came perks– connections in intelligence, strings he could pull without questions. First, he made a call to local authorities, citing a "national security concern" about potential illicit activities at the arcade. By morning, the place was shuttered, yellow tape crisscrossing the doors, owners scrambling under investigation for fabricated violations. No more gloryholes. No more anonymous fucks. That chapter was closed.

Next, he dug deeper. A discreet request to his tech team pulled the arcade's CCTV feeds– hacked quietly, no traces left. He fast-forwarded through hours of footage until he spotted you: the curve of your hips as you entered the booth, the sway of your ass that he recognized from the way it had ground back against him. Facial recognition software did the rest, cross-referencing public databases until it spat out your name, address, everything. You. Beautiful, elusive. You. His cock twitched just thinking about it. He sent for you immediately– a black SUV with tinted windows pulling up to your door, two stern-faced adjutants delivering a sealed envelope: "Report to Colonel Xia's office at 0800 hours. Urgent matter."

You arrived at the base gates precisely on time, heart pounding as guards waved you through after checking your ID. What the hell was this? The arcade shutdown had hit the local news, but you never imagined it connected back to him– the gruff, commanding voice from the other side of the wall. But it was all far too coincidental. Escorted to his office in a nondescript building, you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was starkly military: polished steel desk piled with classified folders, walls adorned with maps on screens and commendations, the faint scent of gun oil and authority hanging in the air.

Caleb rose from his chair, his uniform crisp, medals gleaming under the fluorescent lights. At 6'2", broad-shouldered and chiseled from years of rigorous training, he was even more imposing in person– dark hair slicked back, piercing violet eyes that raked over you like he was memorizing every inch. "Sit," he commanded, voice low and gravelly, the same one that had growled filthy praises through the hole. You obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his desk, your pulse racing.

"You're the one," he said, circling around to lean against the desk in front of you, arms crossed. "The girl from the arcade. Don't deny it– I know." His gaze softened just a fraction, but there was a dark edge to it, possessive and unyielding. "I've been thinking about you non-stop. That tight little pussy, the way you took me... but I can't have you sharing that with anyone else. It's mine now. You're mine."

You swallowed hard, a mix of fear and arousal flooding your veins. "What do you want from me, Colonel?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, but there was a breathy undertone, remembering the feel of him stretching you, especially now that you saw how handsome he was.

He reached out, his large hand cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "Everything. Starting now." The conversation lingered there, charged with tension– he asked about your life, your desires. His eyes analyzed every expression that crossed your face, while listening intently to your voice, savoring the timbre like fine whiskey. "Your voice... it's even sexier than I imagined," he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. "Soft, but with that edge of need. And your face– fuck, you're stunning. Those eyes, begging to be ruined."

He stood then, pulling you to your feet with ease, his hands roaming slowly over your shoulders, down your arms. "Let me see you. All of you." His fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it inch by agonizing inch, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, the dip of your navel. He paused to trace circles there with his fingertips, watching goosebumps rise. "Perfect," he whispered, voice husky with reverence and hunger. The shirt came off over your head, tossed aside, revealing your bra. He unclasped it with expert precision, letting it fall as his eyes devoured your bare breasts– pretty, nipples already pebbling in the cool air.

"God, these tits... I've dreamed about them," he growled, cupping them gently at first, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, making you gasp. He bent down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent. His hands slid lower, hooking into your pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion. He knelt briefly to help you step out, his breath hot against your thighs, eyes locked on the glistening folds between your legs. "Your body is a fucking masterpiece. Every curve, every inch– mine, all mine…”

Rising, he lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, papers scattering unnoticed as he laid you back, your legs dangling over the edge. He spread your thighs wide, settling between them on his knees, his uniform brushing against your skin. "I've waited too long for this… since I licked you off my fingers and tasted heaven," he murmured, breath ghosting over your exposed pussy. He started slow, agonizingly so– his tongue flicking out to trace the outer lips, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal. "So wet already... tastes like heaven." He parted you with his fingers, exposing your clit, and circled it with the flat of his tongue, lazy laps that built heat gradually.

You arched, moaning softly, but he held your hips down with strong hands, forcing you to feel every deliberate stroke. He dipped lower, tongue delving into your entrance, fucking you shallowly with it, lapping up your juices like a man starved. "Mmm, so sweet," he groaned against you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. He sucked gently on your folds, then returned to your clit, alternating between soft suckles and slow, swirling licks, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, begging incoherently. He savored every twitch, every gasp, his eyes flicking up to watch your face contort in ecstasy.

Only when you were on the brink did he pull back, kissing his way up your body. His mouth latched onto one breast, sucking the nipple into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and teeth grazing just enough to sting sweetly. He switched to the other, hands kneading the soft flesh, rolling the neglected peak between his fingers. "These tits are perfect for me," he rasped, voice muffled against your skin. "Gonna fuck them now."

He stood, shedding his uniform jacket and shirt quickly, revealing a sculpted chest dusted with dark hair, abs rippling as he freed his massive cock– thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. He straddled your torso on the desk, positioning himself between your breasts. You pushed them together eagerly, enveloping his shaft in soft, warm flesh. He thrust slowly at first, the head of his cock emerging near your mouth with each pump. You leaned forward hungrily, tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum, then sucking it into your mouth as he pushed forward.

"Fuck, yes– suck it while I fuck these tits," he groaned, pace building, hips rocking steadily. The slide was slick from your saliva and his pre-cum, the sensation filthy and intimate. You swirled your tongue around the head each time it breached, hollowing your cheeks to draw him in deeper on the upthrust. His balls tightened, breaths coming in ragged pants. "Gonna cum– swallow it all, baby." He erupted with a raucous hiss, hot spurts painting your tongue and throat as you gulped greedily, not missing a drop, milking him with your mouth and the press of your breasts.

But he wasn't done. Far from it. His cock stayed semi-hard, twitching with residual need. He slid off the desk, sinking into his chair and pulling you with him. "Straddle me," he ordered.

You climbed onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, your dripping pussy hovering over his length. The heat radiating from his cock brushed against your slick folds, a teasing promise that made your inner muscles clench in anticipation. He guided you down slowly, the broad head parting your lips with a slick glide, stretching your entrance wide as he filled you completely. Your pretty velvet walls yielding to his girth, the veins along his shaft dragging against sensitive nerves, sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Buried to the hilt, he held still, your bodies locked in intimate fullness.

"Just sit there, for a few minutes," he murmured, his hand sliding to your lower belly. "Look at how well we fit together…” He pressed harder into the form of him stretching you inside, making you squirm. He stilled his hand quickly, determined to prolong being inside you, to test his self control with you.

How cute.

His fingers brushed a stray lock from your forehead, calluses scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth. He gazed intently into your eyes, violet depths stormy with determination, close enough that you could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, like stars scattered across a rugged sky.

His thick shaft pulsed inside your walls, a rhythmic throb that matched the frantic beat of your heart, but no movement came, just the torturous intimacy of being stuffed full, your juices trickling down to coat his balls where they nestled against your ass. Every subtle shift of your weight sent ripples of sensation through you, your clit grazing the coarse hair at his base, swollen and aching for friction.

“You know I handcuffed myself, just so I wouldn't crawl back to you..” He admitted, his breath hot against your ear, lips brushing the shell as he spoke.

“What?” Your voice came out breathy, the word trembling as another pulse from his cock made your walls flutter involuntarily around him, squeezing in a way that drew a soft hiss from his lips.

“Yeah, I was really…crazy about you…” He looked away, jaw tightening, the muscle there flexing under his stubbled skin, but his hand stayed firm on your tummy, thumbs tracing idle circles over the bulge of his tip inside you, the touch both soothing and maddening.

“A gloryhole girl?” You teasingly questioned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into the firm muscle as you fought the urge to rock against him, the fullness bordering on overwhelming, every inch of him pressing against spots that made your toes curl.

“Yeah..” His gaze flicked back to yours, darker now, pupils eclipsing irises, “I really wanted you to myself..” He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips.

“That’s nice and all…but can..can I move?” You squirmed, your hips twitching despite his grip, the motion causing his cock to shift ever so slightly inside you, a delicious drag that pulled a whimper from your throat and made your thighs tremble against his.

“Not yet..” he shushed with a commanding lilt, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head, exposing your neck. He nuzzled there, lips grazing your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch.

Minutes ticked by, the clock on the wall marking each agonizing second with a soft tick-tock that seemed to echo the throb of him inside you. Your body ached, a deep, insistent burn building from the stillness– clit throbbing against his pubic bone, the wiry hairs there tickling your sensitive nub with every shallow breath you took. Slick gathered where you were joined, warm and sticky, pooling on his skin as your arousal built. You could feel the tension coiling in him too, the way his cock twitches sporadically, swelling just a fraction more, stretching you further. His chest rose and fell faster against your breasts making your nipples harden from the friction of his skin.

You squirmed again, trying to grind down, chasing that elusive spark, but his hand clamped tighter on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you immobile with unyielding strength. The denial only heightened everything. Your walls rippled around him in futile protest, milking him without motion.

"Patience," he whispered, nipping your earlobe sharply, the sting blooming into heat that shot straight to your core, making you clench around him involuntarily. He groaned low in his throat at the sensation, his restraint visibly fraying– eyes blazing with intensity, lids heavy, breaths coming in short, controlled pants as he fought the urge. His cock jumped inside you, a powerful throb that pressed against your G-spot, teasing without relief, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, muscles bunching like coiled springs.

Another minute dragged on, the air heavy with unspoken need, your skin flushing hot, sweat beading along your spine and trickling down to where your bodies met. He shifted minutely, not thrusting but adjusting, the movement making his length nudge deeper, the head kissing your cervix in a way that made stars dance behind your eyelids.

“Mm–”you whimpered softly and his control splintered, piece by piece. His hips rocked once subtly, barely perceptible, yet enough to make you gasp. The sound sends him into a deeper grind, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, circling slowly to build the friction you’d been craving. His eyes locked on yours, drinking in every flicker of pleasure, his expression twisting with hunger he could no longer leash.

"Dammit, can't wait anymore," he growled, voice rough and edged with desperation, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard as he finally gave in. "Need to fuck you.”

He started slow, thrusting up into you with filthy-soft rolls of his hips– deep, languid strokes that dragged along every sensitive ridge inside you. "So tight, so perfect for me," he murmured, lips brushing your neck, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple while the other gripped your ass, guiding your subtle bounces. The pace was sensual, drawn-out, each upward surge making your breasts jiggle, your moans syncing with his grunts.

But the possessiveness built, his thrusts turning harder, faster. "No one else gets this," he growled, standing abruptly with you impaled on him, strong arms supporting your weight. He spun you around, bending you over the desk– ass up, face down on the cool wood. Papers crunched under you as he slammed back in, pounding relentlessly, balls slapping against your clit with each brutal thrust. "You're mine– say it," he demanded, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other spanking your ass sharply, leaving red handprints.

"Yours," you cried out, the coil in your belly snapping as he hit that deep spot over and over, the friction overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed through you, walls spasming around him, juices soaking his cock. He followed with a roar, flooding you with hot cum, claiming you utterly as he collapsed over your back, both of you panting in the afterglow of his obsessive desire.

Caleb's weight pressed down on you, his chest heaving against your back, the mingled sweat of your bodies making your skin stick together in the humid confines of his office. His cock, still semi-hard and buried deep inside your fluttering pussy, twitched with aftershocks. A slow leak of his cum trickling out around where you were joined, warm and sticky as it dripped down your inner thighs. The desk beneath you was a mess of papers scattered and ink smudged from your palms. The cool wood now warmed by the heat of your cheek pressed against it. His breath fanned hot across your neck, ragged and satisfied, but you could feel the tension still thrumming in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed possessively on your hip. He wasn't done. Not even close.

With a low grunt that vibrated through you, he straightened up slowly, his hands sliding along your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise. "That was just the warmup," he rasped, voice dark and edged with that hunger that made your pulse spike anew. His cock slipped free with a wet pop, leaving you empty and aching, a gush of mixed fluids spilling onto the desk. He spun you around to face him, your ass perched on the edge, legs dangling weakly as he towered over you, eyes raking down your flushed, sweat-glistened body like a predator sizing up prey.

"Need you rougher this time," he muttered, more to himself than you, his large hands shoving your thighs apart wider, exposing your swollen, cum-smeared pussy to the cool air. The sting of overstimulation hit as his thumb brushed your clit, circling roughly, not gentle anymore– pressing hard, flicking with enough force to make you jolt and whimper. "Gonna fuck you until every part of you remembers who owns this body." He grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the desk's surface, the wood creaking under the pressure. His free hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, nipping hard enough to leave a mark.

You gasped as he shoved two thick fingers into your pussy without warning, curling them deep and scissoring roughly, stretching you further while his thumb ground against your clit in furious circles. Your hips bucked involuntarily into his hand despite the raw sensitivity. "Look at you, still dripping for me," he snarled, pumping his fingers faster, the heel of his palm slapping against your mound with each thrust. "This cunt is mine– gonna ruin it for anyone else." He added a third finger, your walls clenching around the intrusion as he twisted them, hitting your G-spot with punishing accuracy, forcing a cry from your lips.

"Too much– please– ”

His mouth crashed down on yours then, not a kiss but a claim. Roughly invading your mouth with his tongue, teeth clashing. He bit your lower lip until you tasted the faint copper of blood. He pulled his fingers free abruptly, slick-coated and glistening, and shoved them into your mouth replacing his tongue on yours, forcing you to suck them clean. "Taste us," he commanded, eyes locked on yours as you obeyed, tongue swirling around his digits, the salty tang of cum and arousal flooding your senses. His cock, fully hard again and throbbing angrily against your thigh, left a trail of pre-cum on your skin as he rutted against you.

“Fuck– you're perfect for me....”

He flipped you onto your stomach again, your breasts flattening against the desk, nipples scraping the rough edges of scattered files. He kicked your legs wider, one boot hooking around your ankle to spread you open, vulnerable. "Ass up higher," he barked, slapping your cheek hard– the crack echoing, heat blooming instantly across your skin. You arched as best you could, presenting yourself. He rewarded you with another smack, then another, alternating sides until your ass burned red, each impact jolting through you, making your pussy clench emptily.

He lined up his cock, the head nudging your entrance, but instead of easing in, he slammed forward in one vicious thrust, burying himself to the balls. The force shoved you forward, desk drawers rattling, a stapler clattering to the floor. "Fuck!" you yelped, the stretch bordering on pain, but he didn't give you time to adjust– pulling back almost fully before ramming in again, setting a harsh rhythm. His hips snapped against your ass with skin-slapping intensity, balls swinging to smack your clit on every downstroke, the friction building a fire that made your vision blur.

"Take it," he grunted, one hand fisting into your hair, pulling you into a deeper bend. The other gripped your hip like a vice, pulling you back onto him with each punishing drive. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your back, sliding down your spine as he fucked you relentlessly, the desk groaning under the assault. He leaned over you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you as his cock dragged along your inner walls, veins pulsing, head battering your cervix with every thrust. "Scream for me– let the whole base know you're mine." He held your head back more as he pistoned into you.

Your moans turned to wails, the coil in your belly tightening impossibly as he reached around, fingers finding your clit and pinching hard, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with rough tugs. The overstimulation was exquisite agony, your body trembling, thighs quaking as another orgasm built fast and fierce. He felt it coming, his pace faltering into erratic, deeper jabs. "Cum on my cock– milk me dry," he demanded, spanking you again for emphasis.

Your vision whited out, coming as he ordered, walls convulsing around him in violent spasms. You squirted slick that soaked his thighs and puddled on the floor. He groaned loudly as your pussy clamped down hard around his length, your liquid squirting out and coating his balls and thighs. It's the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen or felt. He roared, thrusting through your climax, prolonging it until you were sobbing, oversensitive and boneless. Only then did he let go, hips stammering as he flooded you again, hot ropes of cum painting your insides, overflowing to drip out of your pussy with each pulse.

He stayed buried for a long moment, both of you panting, his body draped over yours like a possessive cage. Slowly, he pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked from your abused pussy. "Good girl," he murmured, the roughness fading into something softer, though the obsession lingered in his eyes.

Gently now, he scooped you up, cradling you against his chest as he sank back into his chair, your limp form nestled in his lap. His hands, callused but tender, stroked your back in soothing circles, tracing the marks he'd left– the bites, the bruises– with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids, your tear-streaked cheeks. The shift was startling, like a storm giving way to calm.

He reached for a drawer, pulling out a soft blanket– military issue, but clean and warm– and draped it over you both, tucking it around your shoulders. His fingers stroked over your hair, while his other hand rubbed your spanked ass gently, massaging away the sting. "You were perfect," he praised, voice low and reassuring, nuzzling your neck. "No more arcade. No more gloryholes. You're done with that life– I shut it down for good. You'll stay with me now. I'll take care of everything– housing on base, whatever you need. No one touches you but me."

You nestled closer, fucked-out and exhausted, his heartbeat steady under your ear. He fetched a water bottle from his desk, holding it to your lips, encouraging you to sip slowly, then wiped your face with a tissue, cleaning away smudged makeup and drying sweat. "Rest now," he said, rocking you slightly, his arms a secure cage around you. "When you're ready, I'll draw you a bath back at my quarters. Cook you dinner. You're mine to cherish, too– not just fuck." His grip tightened just enough to remind you of the claim beneath his whispers, the kind of hold that blurred the line between protection and permanence, leaving no room for thoughts of escape.

Thanks for reading <3

⊹ ۫ . Boyfriend Luffy who’s completely obsessed with the feeling of your tongue against his. He can never settle for just one kiss. No matter how sweet or innocent the moment is, the second your lips touch his, he makes it his mission to turn it into a full-on makeout. His tongue pushes past your lips, curling around yours with eager, wet strokes that leave you breathless.

But don’t be surprised when he suddenly pulls you down onto his lap. His strong hands grip your hips, yanking you close until you feel the hard, throbbing line of his boner pressing insistently against your clothed cunt.

⊹ ۫ . Boyfriend Luffy loves playing with your boobs whenever he feels needy. The problem (which isn’t really a problem at all) is that he’s always needy.

You could be in the middle of a random island, exploring, laughing, and acting completely normal. Then, in the next second, he’s behind you. His warm chest presses against your back as his hands sneak under your shirt, tugging the fabric up with impatient fingers.

“Let me see ’em, pleaseee…” he murmurs against your neck, voice so desperate and whiny that it sends shivers down your spine. He sounds like he might actually die if you say no. How could you possibly deny him?

⊹ ۫ . Boyfriend Luffy hates it when you wear revealing clothes when you go out. He knows he can’t control himself around you when you look that pretty. Just one glance at your cleavage or the way your skirt rides up and his cock gets rock-hard in his shorts, twitching visibly with every step you take.

He tries to behave, but the best he ever gets is a frantic, through-the-clothes teasing session in the bathroom of whatever establishment you’re in. You drop to your knees and stroke him, licking and sucking at the head until your saliva mixes with his leaking pre-cum, soaking the front of his boxers until they’re dark and sticky. He wants to cum so badly — hips bucking, whiny moans slipping out — but you always stop just before he can finish, tucking him back in with a teasing smile.

Now he’s forced to walk out with wet boxers clinging uncomfortably to his skin, a massive erection still straining against the fabric, and the impossible task of facing his friends without anyone noticing how painfully hard he is.

⊹ ۫ . Boyfriend Luffy isn’t used to having erotic dreams. So when he has his first one about you, it wrecks him.

That’s how you find him in one morning, face buried in his pillow, hips desperately humping the mattress like a needy pup. Soft, broken whimpers spill from his lips as he chases the pleasure you gave him in the dream. His cock drags against the sheets, leaving a wet spot beneath him while he grinds frantically, chasing a release he can’t quite reach (not without your help).

⊹ ۫ . Boyfriend Luffy who even when is buried deep inside your pussy, he can’t keep his mouth and hands off your boobs. They fit so perfectly between his lips that he genuinely believes this is what they were made for.

He’s thrusting into you, stretching you open with every roll of his hips, but his face is smushed happily between your breasts. He sucks on one nipple, moaning around your soft flesh. For a blissful moment he forgets he’s even fucking you, completely lost in the warm, perfect taste of your chest.

Then his eyes darken with realization. He pulls back just enough to flash you that wild, sunny grin, lips shiny with spit. “Sorry… got distracted.”

Before you can respond, he starts fucking you properly, pounding into you until your eyes roll back and your mind goes blank. He makes up for his distraction by fucking you absolutely dumb, all while his hand still play with your breasts.

Hey guys!! Just a little treat because I don’t know how long I’ll take the finish Luffy’s fanfic. Divider credits for @uzmacchiato.

the first time you had suggested pegging to zayne, you hadn't expected him to be so...okay with it. of course, there was a bit of convincing needed, but as a doctor, he had both the medical knowledge and money for preparation — you seemed to want it so badly, after all. he just didn't expect how much he'd like it.

— he's completely gone

— he's completely gone pt. 2

— fucking himself onto you

— extra ; helping him destress after work (pls he's even wearing the same fuckass outfit)

rafayel had been one hell of a brat the entire week, teasing you by sending pictures of himself dolled up for you, sending voice messages of him whining and moaning for your cock, and even going as far as to sending videos of him playing with himself, all during your precious work hours.

— "this pretty toy is all for you to use."

— "please cutie, come home already. can't you see how much my cock misses you?"

— "you can make me feel better than this dumb vibrator."

finally free from work on the weekend, you show him the consequences of his actions.

— whining and crying already, when this was just the beginning of his punishment?

— being tortured stupid

you took it upon yourself to break down sylus. always somehow so irritatingly composed, you tried so many different ways to have him openly submit to you, when all you had to do was take the lead in bed. now was that tricky? yes. was having him moaning and letting you take control something you would trade entire universes for? also yes!!!!

— getting his ass fucked by you is more relaxing than he'd like to admit

— the more intimate the moment, the louder he moans for you

— seeing how far you could push him until he breaks

— roleplay; he's being a brat (he's mostly an obedient sub, he just wanted to feel how you would fuck him if he wasn't)

since xavier had long since gotten into the habit of waking you up with sex, it's only natural that it catches onto you as well.

— he's always just so sensitive when it comes to you

— morning handjob (this is sooo intimate subby xavier im in love)

— fucking him awake

— extra ; THIS IS SO HIM AHHHHH

multiple scenarios for caleb bc i can't think of one specific story to follow with videos...

— no-touch is the worst punishment for him :(

— but there's just something so addicting about it (sado-masochist switch much?)

— he could break out of the cuffs so easily, but the look on your face as you torture his cock is too sweet of a reward

you'd been good friends with the twins ever since first year, although for a good two weeks, you lowkey thought they were the same guy.

you were in sato's lab and toru's math lecture, and it just so happened that you'd sat next to both of them in their respective classes. you'd just assumed he liked to switch up his style.

on mondays in the lab, he obviously liked to dress a little nerdier, with thick-rimmed glasses and graphic game tees hanging off his bulk. then, in maths, you'd assumed he decided to dress trendier to impress the multitudes of friends he hung with at the back of the hall.

the fact that they were, in fact, different people, only dawned on you when you saw them together at a party three weeks after meeting them. that was definitely an awkward conversation..

nevertheless, you'd gotten closer and closer as the years dragged on, sharing inside jokes and lighthearted banter other guys could only wish they had with you.

that was, until, you started dating sukuna.

he hated the twins. to be honest, they might have been a contributing factor to the inevitable break up (not undermining his disgusting mistreatment of you).

but now that you were free from the tatted man's year-long curse, the boys saw it as the perfect opportunity to weasel their way into your heart and get their best friend back.

"y'know, standing here getting all angry over it isn't gonna make it go away," sato states, leaning against the counter space to your left while toru mimics his motion on your right, both of them caging you between them.

"mhm, and acting like you care only feeds his fatass ego. come party with us, baby. we'll show you a good time." toru flirts, placing his palm over the back of your hand that rests on the bench.

you think on it. i mean, you're already a little bit tipsy, already a-lotta-bit upset. what was the harm in having a little fun?

you huff out a sigh, then let a small smile slip by. "mm, i guess.."

"perfect!" they say simultaneously.

you end up being dragged across the room to the beer pong tables, watching a few games play out amongst the competitive frat bros while the twins take turns holding you against them in some way, shape, or form.

sato would have your delicate hand weaved through his arm, then toru would get antsy and throw his bicep over your shoulder. it was an exhausting back and forth, to be honest.

but when the table clears out, toru is embarrassingly quick to claim the next game. “kay! we’re running teams,” he announces, clapping obnoxiously to get attention from onlookers. “th' winner plays on.”

a few people gather around, eager to see how this pans out. toru was pretty well known for being a monster at beer pong.

sato takes your wrist and pulls you over to the array of lined-up solo cups, propping you up at the opposite end to toru. his chest presses against your back, pushing you up against the edge of the table. on the other side, his brother paces back and forth ready to go.

"i'll help you out if you need," the nerdier twin suggests from behind you.

you glance back at his righteous expression. “oh yeah? are you actually good at this?”

his chin dips close to your ear. “i’m good at everything that involves angles and positions. y'know, the whole physics thing."

you snort. “that was the most virgin thing you’ve ever said, holy fuck."

toru cackles out a laugh from across the table, but sato squeezes your hips softly in warning. you did kinda miss how possessive he got before your life was ruined by sukuna, you are suddenly pleasantly aware of how boxed in you are, with this cocky geek behind you and his himbo brother ready to destroy you from across the table. yikes. or yay, however you decide to see it.

"you can do this, hun. i believe in you." toru winks, and you can only flush in response, taking your first shot.

after a few goes, it becomes very obvious that the beer pong gods have not blessed you, let alone touched you with their heavenly hand. you miss almost every shot.

toru groans after about the third time. “c'mon, baby. that was just tragic.”

“shut up,” you snap, and sato chuckles from his spot behind you.

"maybe bend your knees more?" he suggests with a smirk, pulling your hips back until your butt meets his crotch.

“don’t tell her to bend anything,” toru shoots back, and you flush before squirming out of sato's grip.

by the third game, you're slightly getting the hang of things. you haven't missed in a while, you're reaching flow state.

from their respective positions, the twins exchange a look, then peer out into the sea of people while you're distracted taking your turn, trying to see if they can spot sukuna gawking.

and, bingo. he is.

he’s near the dusty leather couch on the far right wall with his big arm slung over that girl’s shoulder. she’s laughing and talking into his neck all flirtily. it makes them both sick to their stomachs, but they notice how he barely reacts..? he used to react to you when you did that.

surely if they could see how badly he'd fucked up by losing you, he could too, right? they could only hope, because that would make their revenge scheme that much sweeter.

this clearly gets toru feeling some type of way, because he's got that special look of lust on his face that he only gets when showing other assholes that he is, in fact, better than them.

“hey,” he says suddenly, stepping closer to you while sato grabs the ball from a missed cup. “if i win this round, you owe me something, yeah?"

“oh my god,” you groan. “what.”

he tilts his head, blue eyes bright and oh so cocky. “a kiss.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re such a child.”

“nuh uh. not just any kiss,” he continues, ignoring you. “a good one. y'know, with lots of tongue.” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, but the thought of pushing up against some wall and kissing you senseless in front of your ex has him feeling anything but playful.

a couple guys at the table howl in laughter, and toru eats it up with a taunting smile.

you don’t notice that sukuna has his eye keen on you, but the gods must of , because something in your heart, call it divine intervention, tells you to say yes.

“m'kay,” you say, lifting your chin. “but you actually have to win, y'know. no cheating or anything."

toru grins like you just handed him the keys to a car he’s been eyeing for years. “watch me.”

he doesn't miss a single shot that round.

not one.

he’s utterly ridiculous about it too, bouncing the ball off the table in an overly exaggerated fashion, blowing on it before he throws, winking at you after every cup dunks with a plonk. by the time the last one drops into the water, the table is chanting his name and you are flushed from more than just the alcohol.

“pay up,” he says immediately, stepping around the table. his cock's actively throbbing with anticipation.

by this point you're laughing and definitely tipsy enough that your thoughts aren't quite lining up properly. "mhmm." you sigh, pacing toward him with sato in tow.

he lifts your chin to stare you straight in the eye, then takes note of the bashfulness in your expression. “c’mon,” he murmurs. “don’t go shy on me now.”

as you smile shyly and inch in closer to seal the deal, sato suddenly pulls your shoulder back to stop you.

"what the hell, man?" toru protests, hands thrown up.

but sato, ever the observer, leans into his twin's ear to whisper something under his breath.

you try to make out what they're saying, but the frank ocean floating through the air was making that increasingly difficult. you watch as toru's once irritated expression morphs into a big grin, and you gulp.

"toji! c'mere." he shouts over the room toward the kitchen, where toji's manning the expensive alcohol. the buff boy sighs before pushing off the bench, stalking over to the twins.

"what d' you assholes want?"

then, three minutes later, the boys are dragging you back to the kitchen as toji stands on a nearby table. "body shots!" he announces to the nearby crowd, and the reaction is exactly what the twins wanted.

oh.

everyone's circling around the kitchen table, very eager for a little spice. the two boys gently guide you towards the crowd, keeping you close as they watch the people flock. toji lifts both hands for quiet, grinning when the noise barely dips.

“alright, listen up,” he calls out, pointing at the cleared table. “two people will come up. rock, paper, scissors, then the loser lays back right here.” he slaps the surface. “th' winner takes a shot from their neck.”

the crowd roars at that like a bunch of horny slags.

“first pair?” toji barks.

shoko and yuki, like the fine ass lesbians they are, push through to the front of the crowd with pretty smiles shrugging off their jackets, their cheeks flushed pink with whatever they'd been jointly sculling.

toji makes a big song and dance of them playing fairly, then the sea of people erupt when shoko throws scissors, and yuki, paper.

"oh no, i lost." yuki fake pouts, climbing up onto the table without shame, propping herself back on her elbows, and tipping her head to the side to bare her slender neck.

shoko smiles sweetly as she leans over her girl, rolling her shoulders once like she’s preparing for surgery, you couldn't deny that this was very attractive.

toji pours carefully into the hollowed out skin of yuki’s collarbone, the liquor catching in the dip of her skin. a few drops spill down into the cleavage of her breasts, and someone in the crowd groans at the sight. promptly followed by a middle finger thrown over shoko's shoulder.

the brunette doesn’t mess around, she bends down and takes the shot in one gulp, her hands braced beside yuki’s shoulder. the room goes mental with people howling and stomping as she draws it out by sucking seductively at her neck.

yuki grabs at shoko’s hair, laughing, and the cheering only gets louder when shoko finally stands up wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

you’re clapping with everyone else all tipsy with your thoughts slightly out of order.

but something keeps snagging at your mental.

toru never claimed his kiss, did he?

he won fair and square. he could have taken it right there in front of everyone, but instead, he let sato pull you away and gossip about starting this game up with toji.

your eyes drift between them now, watching the way they stand shoulder to shoulder, murmuring to each other with big grins while the next few volunteers shout to take their turn.

toji waves them off after another quick round. “alright, alright. next pair!”

but your brain clicks onto their mischievous looks a second too late.

because now the boys' hands are pushing at your waist then at your back as they steer you forward through the crowd.

sato's got a playful grip on your arm as he guides you toward the table lightly. conversations flatten as people notice the three of you stepping up to the table, and someone whistles when they get a proper look at you under the kitchen light. someone else nudges a friend and points, already stirring things up. "she's a looker." they exclaim.

toji clocks it and chuckles, he’s just been handed the best play toy in the house, after all. sukuna's cute little ex. now, as much as he liked the guy, even an asshole like toji knew ryomen needed a little wake up call, and he was more than happy to help those idiot twins show him up when they'd asked earlier.

“alright,” he calls out, waving his cup in the air, “we got a new round.”

you watch as the people push closer and become more intrigued, more commotion than before. normally this was done with two people, not three, so everyone's two cents was stacking up until there were dollars of noise filling the room.

sukuna’s head whips over from his spot on the outskirts, and his cocky laughter dies. he freezes so stiffly at the sight of you about to 'volunteer' it’s almost funny, his brain needs a second to catch up to what he’s seeing.

you. here. between the twins of all people?

your chest thumps with adrenaline, but you force yourself to keep your eyes from switching to that disgusting pest.

sato steps right in front of you for a second, his big, broad frame blocking your sight so you face him instead of the man burning a hole into you from across the kitchen, while toru laughs from your other side. "aww look who's watching, let's give him a show, yeah?"

two of sato’s fingers brush your chin, pushing so you're looking up at him with that beautiful expression. “trust us,” he smiles quietly so that only you and toru can hear it. “we’ll be gentle with you, sweetheart. promise.”

toru smiles, winking at you before quickly kissing your forehead.

"i'm assuming you're both throwing to see who takes the shot off her?" toji asks, and the twins nod eagerly in agreement.

toji shakes his head before barking out, “okay then, rock, paper, scissors."

the chant picks up around you, everyone watching as sato and toru hold out their hands, they throw at the same time, and.. they tie.

the crowd react accordingly, and they go again.

another tie.

toru laughs, “fuck it. we both win.”

a swell of noise piles up with people hollering and leaning in to see what happens next. neither twin looks bothered. in fact, they look like they planned it from the beginning with matching smirks slipping across their faces as they turn to you. yeah, they definitely wanted this. both of them on you like some reverse harem bs.

“come here,” sato teases.

they guide you toward the cleared section of the table and you lean back as they direct, hands braced behind you against the surface. you feel so exposed like this with your collarbones tipped toward the ceiling waiting for the liquor.

“tilt your chin up,” toru mutters leaning close so only you can hear him. “js' relax.”

toji trapses towards you with the 1.5L of absolut vodka. you smile when you notice he's being gentler with you than he was with the others, pouring ever so carefully into the hollow of one collarbone, then the other. the chilled liquor makes you jolt, but the twins steady you with their calming palms at your waist.

they both grin at the sight of the alcohol sitting there ready for them to drink. they have to bite their lips in unison to distract from the throbbing hard-ons in both of their pants. shit, you just look so pretty laid out all sweet and ready for them.

the nerdier twin slips his glasses off and shoves them into his jean pocket. sato leans down to your level first, and god if he didn't take his time about it. i mean, sukuna is watching after all. he needed this to be a spectacle.

he gives you the filthiest look before dipping down, and sucking the liquid from your chest. you gasp as he does so, the feeling of his tongue against your skin sends your hand flying into his riddled white locs.

the people are losing it, because sato never does this sort of thing. he’s usually acting better than everyone in the library or turning his nose up at jocks in the quad, not taking body shots off of hot girls in crowded kitchens at parties like these.

as sato's halfway through his very public little display, toru decides he's done waiting and that he'd like to join in on all the fun.

with his pretty eyes flicking up once to make sure sukuna is still staring, the playboy bends down to your other collarbone and drinks from you too, far, far slower than necessary. his big hand sliding from your waist to your hip to keep you in place.

sukuna looks absolutely fucking murderous.

he watches it all play out with the most feral, pathetic, jealous look on his once smug face.

and to add insult to injury, the twins go further.

they don’t pull off if you when they're done, oh no. sato’s hands push you down when you try to sit up, you giggle in reply while torus mouth sucks higher up your neck than necessary after the liquor is gone.

you did owe him a kiss, after all, and they made sure to make a big show of it.

sukuna sees nothing but red, fiery fury, and the twins know he’s watching.

they lift their heads so horribly slow, sato wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb while toru lets his tongue drag across his lower lip.

they look at you first, making sure you’re okay. hm, flushed as hell, but fine. they think in unison.

then, they both turn their heads,

and their eyes lock with sukuna’s.

and they give him the biggest, cockiest, shit eating smirks they'd ever given anyone in their entire lives.

ours now. they mouth.

A/N: i'm sorry i haven't posted in like a week and a half ik i suck throw tomatoes at meuhhhhh