Wanna Be My Lover?

They might be mean. They might exclude her or laugh at her or pull awful pranks. And no one would know until the four weeks were up, until summer camp was over, until she'd already endured it.

Andrew confesses his fears to you late one night, and the following morning he wakes to you making breakfast in the kitchen with your cellphone pressed to your ear, talking animatedly.

And when you're done, you tell him that you'd signed up to be a counselor at the camp Lena's going to. "So she has someone looking out for her," you explain.

Four weeks of your life, stuck in the middle of the woods with a handful of kids, all to protect Lena. All to give Pope a little bit of respite.

He doesn't understand what he did to deserve you, his sweetheart, but he promises to keep you. Happy, safe, satisfied—to keep you his.

The ache starts the moment you step out of his truck, encumbered by your duffel bag and Lena's backpack.

And even though you look back at him over your shoulder as you walk to the camp office building, hand in hand with his niece—even though you stop completely to run back to him for one last kiss, much to Lena's disgust—Andrew misses you the second you're gone.

He tries to busy himself by cleaning your shared room and color coding your dresser drawers. He pulls small jobs with his brothers and runs a few errands for Smurf and hires a new pool cleaner.

But the loneliness begins to suffocate by the second night.

He wasn't used to this. To the absence of your hand around his elbow, to the lack of warmth from your breath whenever you hid your face behind his shoulder, to the silence that presses in on him late at night.

He misses your quiet giggles and your whispered questions and the weight of your hand in his.

He misses the way you look up at him with wide eyes from down on your knees and the way you roll around restlessly in his sheets every night before finally giving up and admitting, "I can't sleep."

And he'll smile and kiss you sweetly and say, "I know, sweetheart. Take your shirt off."

Pope hadn't realized just how reliant he was on his nighttime routine of fucking you to sleep until he no longer could.

Sure, he could stroke himself to the gallery of photos he has of you split open on his cock, but it's not the same. It's not the same, and sleep evades him the same way it used to before he'd met you.

Before he'd been absolved of his sins by the sweetest little girl. Before you'd stuck your fingers between his ribs and taken hold of his twisted and mangled heart for yourself; without flinching, without hesitance—only a claiming.

And now you were gone, loving him in a different way, a way he had never experienced before.

On the third day, Craig is the first to point it out.

Pope is sitting in the same pool lounger you always lay on. His spine is straight and he doesn't speak, he only stares at the glimmers of reflection in the aquamarine waters.

"Dude," Craig says, lifting a joint to his lips and cupping his hands around the end to light it. "You've gotta get a hobby or somethin' man. I've got a girl coming over in twenty minutes, you can't just sit here all creepy and woeful cause you haven't gotten any pussy in a few days."

Andrew's lip curls. "Don't say that."

His brother shrugs dramatically. "Well, man. I'm just being honest. We're all thinking it, I'm just the one saying it."

"Saying what?"

"That this—" Craig sweeps his hands outwards, motioning to Pope and the state he's in. "It's not healthy. She's a real sweetheart and you love her, I get it. But this, like, codependency you've got going on is just sad, bro. Seriously."

Andrew doesn't respond, but the words stick with him.

He gets in his truck and drives himself to Deran's bar, knowing there's probably a hundred and one things to clean in the kitchen. A hundred and one things that will keep his mind busy.

But while he's reorganizing the back stock, he can't help but think about Craig's little speech.

Codependent?

Andrew Cody. Codependent.

No, he thinks. It's not that bad, is it?

Sure, he misses you. And yeah, it's hard to sleep without you. And he might be going a little stir crazy, not being about to take care of you in his day-to-day routines, but…codependent?

He's drinking a beer, sitting at the bar at the end of the night while Deran resets the register and wipes down the countertop one final time. Pope stares hard at his brother and carefully asks, "Do you think I'm…codependent?"

"Craig talk to you?"

The clarifying question comes immediately, and it does nothing to soothe his concerns. Andrew just levels his stare.

Deran lets out a sigh and says, "Uh…I wouldn't use the word codependent. Isn't that, like, a one sided thing?"

When Andrew speaks, the words come out monotone and rehearsed. "A codependent is someone who forms a dysfunctional, one sided relationship by prioritizing another persons needs over their own, often enabling harmful behaviors."

His brother stares blankly at him.

"I looked it up."

Deran sighs deeply and mulls over the definition for a moment, silence hanging between them while he counts the twenties in his hand. "I guess…maybe it's more like separation anxiety or something," Deran says. "You know, like a dog gets without it's owner."

"That's not helpful."

"You asked," he counters with a shrug.

Pope drops the subject.

And it doesn't matter, anyway. Because an hour later he gets a phone call from an unknown number and when he answers it, the sweetest voice speaks.

"Andrew?"

"Sweetheart? You okay? What's wrong?"

"I…I'm sorry for calling so late, but…"

He can hear it, even through the phone. The anguish in you. Pope hates it. Hates it so much that the words are rushed and desperate as they spill from his mouth. "Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it, okay? Talk to me."

A ragged sound leaves you, an almost-sob. "I—I can't sleep. I need to see you, to kiss you, to…please."

Oh—sweet girl. He knows what you need, even if you're a little shy with the asking. He knows because he needs it, too.

Pope's been fantasizing about this exact scenario for the last forty eight hours. So when he gives instructions, they're crystal clear.

"There's a…a trail. Into the woods, a little bit away from that cabin on the east side of the property, do you know which one I'm talking about?"

He's already got his keys in hand, halfway to his truck before you answer. "They call it Cabin Frog."

It makes Andrew laugh. He'd gone in the middle of the night two days before he'd dropped you and Lena off to scope the place out, and he does recall the cartoonish frog painted on the front door.

"Yeah, that's the one," he says, the faintest trace of amusement still in his voice. "Want you to take that trail through the woods, alright? All the way. It's gonna feel like you're walking a real long time, but once you get to the end you'll be at the side of that winding road we took to get to the camp."

"And you'll be waiting for me there?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he answers gently. "Of course I will be."

"Do you promise?"

"Cross my heart."

By the time you hang up, Pope's almost out of Oceanside. The bustle of the city falls away behind him, allowing for the tall, towering trees to replace the lights.

He likes it out here. Thinks about one day finding some land away from all the chaos and noise and building a home for you there. Someplace that doesn't belong to his brothers or his mother. Someplace that's just yours.

But maybe it's wishful thinking. Maybe he's just excited and eager for the first time in days, fueled by the promise of seeing you.

Pope arrives at your spot before you do. He parks his truck on the shoulder of the empty street and gets out.

With his arms folded and his back pressed to the passenger door, he waits. It doesn't take long, though. He hears crunching leaves and cracking sticks beneath your feet seconds before you emerge from the darkness of the brush.

And the moment you see him, you melt into yourself. Shoulders relaxing, a long held sigh leaving your pretty mouth. You're dressed in nothing more than a pair of pajama shorts and one of Pope's old t-shirts.

That tightness in his chest dissipates right then and there. The tension bleeds from his muscles and everything settles in him as you run up the small, grassy bank at the side of the road and throw yourself into his waiting arms.

Pope smiles. For the first time in what feels like a long time. He smiles and presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of you deep into his lungs. "Oh, sweetheart," he muses, hands squeezing you tight.

"I missed you so much," you mumble, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Pope feels the wetness of your tears against his freckled skin and pulls back just enough to see your face. "Hey, don't cry. M'right here. Okay? I've got you."

His sweet girl.

When he slips his big hands beneath your shirt, pressed to the small of your back, it's not a sexual caress but instead a grounding one. Feeling the softness of your skin, warming the cold away with his heat.

Pope opens the passenger door of his truck, brackets a hand around your waist, and sets you on the edge of the leather seat. He pushes your knees apart to make room for him between them and rests his head against your chest.

He hears the steady thumping of your heart and feels himself finally, finally relax.

You card your fingers through his hair, messing up the structure of the ambery curls. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp and he can't help the low groan that leaves him, the sound vibrating against your sternum.

When you tug lightly to pull his head back and press your mouth to his, he can taste the desperation on your tongue.

Andrew reaches up and grips your face just beneath your chin, holding you in place to lick into your mouth. He's moaning already, sounds mirrored in you, wanting to be impossibly closer.

Your hands grow fevered and he matches your every movement, fingertips pressing into the softness of your hips and the curve of your jaw.

He takes you right then and there; pushes your legs up to your chest and sinks his cock deep inside.

It feels like relief, like forgiveness, like coming home.

Andrew hadn't realized just how much he longed for the taste of your mouth. A craving satisfied only by your sweet sighs against his lips.

Even when he's finished, when he pumps you full of his release, he stays fully seated inside you. Not moving but simply feeling you, pulsing around his cock, sensitive and alive and his.

He traces the features of your face and feels like he'd taken his time with you for granted before. This closeness, the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips—he hated being without it.

After some time, he helps clean you up with napkins from the glove box and climbs into the cab of the truck with you.

Only then, when you've got your head in his lap, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, does he ask, "How's Lena?"

"She's good," you answer, sleepy grin widening. "I think she's having a lot of fun. And there's this girl her age—Caitlin. They've been making friendship bracelets the last few days. So many of them they're halfway up her arm now."

Hearing it makes Pope crack a smile. She deserves it. After the rough year she's had, he finds peace in knowing she's at least having fun and being a kid for a few weeks the way she should be. "Thank you," he says, voice quiet and a little melancholic.

"For what?"

"For taking care of her," he answers. "And me."

You reach for his hand at your hip and take it in yours. Pope lets you move his fingers of your own will, flattening them before placing them against the side of your cheek. "I love you, Andrew," you say.

It makes his chest pull tight. It's different when you say it. Not like when Smurf tells him she loves him, not like his brothers.

It's painfully different, because it's something you choose.

Even knowing all you know about him and his family, even seeing all you've seen, the things he's never been able to fully shield you from—you still choose him.

He brushes his knuckles against the side of your cheek. And because he doesn't quite know how to explain his own devotion, he says, "I'd do anything for you. Anything."

Andrew means it. Lie or cheat or steal or kill. Anything.

But you don't ask for much. You never do. Just his time and his affection. "Will you rub my back? I haven't been sleeping very well without you."

He nods, eyes shining bright with adoration. You turn on your side with your head still in his lap, and Andrew spends the next several hours stroking his hand lazily up your spine.

Not sleeping, because he doesn't want to miss this precious time with you. Holding his sweetheart close, smelling the scent of your shampoo and the cedar of the trees.

He wakes you a little before sunrise, giving you just enough time that you can sneak back onto the camp's property and back into your cabin undetected.

But before you go, you press your forehead to his and give him that pretty, warm smile of yours. You brush your noses together and peck his lips and say, "Same time tomorrow night, okay?"

"I'll be here," Andrew says.

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart."

This time, when the sun begins to set, Andrew brings a few things with him. He's in less of a rush because there's a routine created now that he can expect.

He's got blankets laid out in the truck bed and a cooler full of your favorite snacks and your favorite movie downloaded on his phone. Everything to make you comfortable, to keep you coming back through the woods every night to find him.

Craig is the first to notice the change.

They're both standing in the kitchen. Pope is making himself something to eat and Craig and Deran are piling leftovers from yesterday onto plates and popping the caps off a couple of beers.

Craig offers one to Pope, and even though it's only eleven in the morning he takes it. Because he's got no where to be until nightfall, and the weather is nice enough out today that he won't be scorched by the sun. He could use a little time to unwind.

His brother's eyes widen in surprise when he takes the bottle from his hands. "You're in a good mood today," he says.

Andrew just shrugs. Knows good and well what's gotten him out of the slump he was in, but doesn't want to give either of his brothers another reason to believe he's codependent. "What? I can't just be in a good mood?"

Deran narrows his eyes and lifts his beer to his mouth. "Seriously, man. Something must've changed."

Whatever relaxation Andrew had hoped for disappears with the conversation at hand. "Stop," he says simply. He wants to argue, but has no ground to stand on that wouldn't collapse under the smallest amount of pressure.

So, Pope leaves it. Gathers his perfectly made sandwich and his beer and leaves the kitchen, trying to ignore the look of concern on their faces.

He chooses not to speak when he overhears Craig saying confusedly, "Therapy, maybe?"

It doesn't matter to him what they think. Not when he shows up on the side of the empty road each night to you bouncing on the balls of your feet, more excited to see him than anyone else has ever been.

So, yeah—maybe he's a little codependent. But none of that matters when you tilt your head back to smile up at him.

None of that matters when you're sitting in his lap, kissing his cheeks and nose and forehead, feverishly rocking your hips against his thigh and making a big wet mess on the denim of his jeans.

Pretty, desperate girl. Always so needy for him, never fully satisfied. And of course Andrew understands, because he's just as insatiable for you.

He does start to wonder if maybe it's a little perverse, though. What he's doing to you.

It clicks in his brain one night when you emerge from the trees in nothing but a bikini top and a pair of jean shorts. The ends of your hair are wet, and when he tilts his head curiously you explain, "The camp counselors had a swim race tonight. And guess what."

Andrew struggles to guess much of anything because he can't stop staring. Rivulets of water still drip down the center of your chest, just between your breasts that are held up beautifully by the polyester ribbon tied behind your neck. When he speaks it's a single word and it's low and slow and raspy, eyes locked on yours. "What?"

"I won! Fastest swimmer out of everyone. Lena was so happy. Seeing her giggling and jumping around—God, Andrew. She's so cute."

"You're cute," he says. "Come here."

And you do, of course. Let him pull you in by the belt loops on your shorts, talking and giggling all the while. So excited to recount your whole day to him that you hardly notice what he's doing until you're on the hood of his car and he's pulling your shorts down your legs and pushing your shoulders back.

It hits him then. With his head between your legs, staring up at you to watch your nipples pebble beneath your bikini. The rubber soles of your high top sneakers make little scuff marks on the black chrome paint as you writhe under the gentle ministrations of his tongue against your clit.

Andrew Cody's got the sweetest, filthiest girl in the palm of his bloodied hands. Wrapped real tight around his finger.

A sweetheart who'd do just about anything for him, and here he is indulging your every whim when in truth he should be protecting you. From himself especially. From the raging monster that lives between his ribs, from the guard dog he'd been molded into by the harsh edges of his life.

Andrew's too weak, though. Could never in a million fucking years deny you anything.

Especially when you set those cute little sneakers over his shoulders and beg so prettily, "Please, Andrew—more. Want you to be—hmm—be mean to me, make it—oh, god. Want you to make it hurt."

And he will, of course. Shoving your legs against your chest, squeezing the back of your thighs hard enough to bruise.

Later in the month, nearly through the final week of your new routine now, the thought crosses Andrew's mind again.

He wonders if the state of your desires has been subconsciously shaped by him. Wonders if maybe, somehow, that darkness inside has started to seep out of his heart and stain your sweet one.

Andrew's given the opportunity to confess these worries to you late one night in the back of his truck. He's got you tucked tight beneath his arm, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the muscle of his pectoral, right over his heart. "Can I…ask you something?"

You turn your head to look up at him. "Anything. Always."

He chews nervously on the inside of his bottom lip, mulling over how he can approach the subject without coming across insecure, despite the fact that he is.

"Do you…you don't…pretend to like the things we do for—for me, do you?"

A crease forms between your brows, and you prop yourself up on an elbow to fully look at him now. "What do you mean?"

Pope swallows hard, casting his eyes away, feeling suddenly as shy as you get around anyone other than him. "When we…when I…hurt you," he says. "You're not asking for those things just because I want them, right?"

"Andrew, what?"

"I just want to make sure I'm not changing you or….or corrupting you." He takes your face gently in his hands, stroking his fingers softly over your cheek. "You're so—so good. Such a sweetheart. And I'm…"

You wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling him away. It feels like a loss, like rejection, and he can feel his heart beginning to crack clean in two.

But then you look him right in the eye, voice more sure than he's ever heard it.

"I want you, Andrew. Not half of you. Not parts of you." You lean up further, on your knees now, a surety in your movements. "Do you…does it bother you? That I want those things?"

"No—no. Not at all. I…" The words get caught, stuck in his throat, horrified and exhilarated all at once to be so honest about the part of himself he's been taught to hate. The part of himself he knows is bad. Andrew is terrified of losing you, of scaring you.

But even as shy as you are, often hiding your face behind his shoulder, voice always timid and unsure, with this you seem certain. Unwavering.

With him, you've always opened your chest fully, willingly, your heart a soft feast for the darkness inside him.

And what is a man who's been denied softness at every turn of his life to do but devour it?

"Pope."

He stops, the spiral in his mind going quiet.

Not Andrew, but Pope. The worst of him. A name given to a boy with blood beneath his fingernails, a boy who'd already been molded.

You take his big hand in yours and bring it to the side of your neck, pressing his thumb just over your steady pulse.

His own heart hammers, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to realize you deserve better than this. Softer than this.

When you speak, the words are a whisper. A secret meant for him only. "I want you to violate me."

And because it's you who asks—his soft spoken, timid little sweetheart, who's never once flinched at the hard grip of his bloodied hands or shown an ounce of fear at a glimpse into what lives inside him—Pope does it.

Unleashes the worst of himself and lets his fingers tighten around your pretty neck. He presses you down and crawls on top of you, knees bracketing the top of your ribcage. Your hands come to steady themselves on the big expanse of his thighs, and the touch is so gentle that it grounds him. Helps him stay in the moment, reminding him that this is what you want.

Pope's hand on your throat moves up your jaw, cradling your face. He circles the shape of your mouth with the rough pad of his thumb, squishing your pretty lips beneath the pressure. "You have such a sweet mouth," he murmurs, his eyes dark and molten. "D'you know that?"

You can't answer, because he's shoving two fingers behind your teeth before you can inhale again. Your tongue swirls around them, between each digit, moaning around the thickness of his knuckles. He pushes them in deeper, deeper, until you're choking and gasping for air.

Pope doesn't pull them out, not right away. He lets those tears well in your eyes, lets your fingers flex at his thighs, nails scratching against the rough denim. But not once do you look afraid.

Instead, your glassy eyes hold a certain sort of magic in them.

When he does finally pull back, Pope's fingers come away slick and glossy with your saliva. You greedily suck in lungfuls of air that he'd denied you, lips turning up at the corners, forming the happiest looking smile he's ever seen.

Pope unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out, already hard and aching. He grips the back of your neck and guides himself between your swollen lips, letting out a sigh of relief when you swallow him down.

Your mouth is soft and smooth, warm velvet around him, tongue gentle but seeking as you swirl it around the tip. He pushes himself to the back of your throat, humming when you choke on his length.

His other hand joins the first, cradling the back of your head, holding you firmly in place so that when he snaps his hips forward your mouth stays in perfect position.

It doesn't take long. Pope fucks your mouth with reckless abandon. Violates you, just like you'd asked. When your eyes go all cloudy, he pulls back just enough to let you breathe. To let the oxygen return to your blood cells, groaning low at the way his cock looks covered in your spit, webs of it clinging to his length and snapping against your lips.

Pope slides himself back into your mouth, down your warm throat, until your nose is pressed up against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock.

He steals your air and you stare up at him with so much adoration in your eyes that it makes his heart constrict. He's never felt a love like this—unconditional and absolute. His own devotion met with equal and devastating totality.

That familiar coil winds tight around his spine, and before he can stop himself Pope is spilling his release at the back of your mouth with a heavy groan.

You swallow him down until he's finished, his cock twitching between your lips. And when he finally pulls out, assessing the fucked out state of you, guilt begins to creep up around the edges of his psyche.

But then you giggle and wipe the back of your hand across your messy, spit-covered mouth, and Pope can't help but mirror the sound.

You cling tight to him for the remainder of the night, and Andrew presses gentle kisses to every inch of exposed skin he can reach with your head on his chest.

It makes him a little sad when sunrise comes and you have to leave him again, but the feeling is soothed by knowing you only do so only to protect Lena.

Still, the final week comes as blessed relief.

On Tuesday night, you come bounding out of the treeline more excited than usual. There's a wide grin on your face as you fall into his embrace, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"You're in a good mood," he observes, hands resting against the small of your back.

"Mhm. After we put the kids to bed today all the adults got together to watch a movie. A scary one. You wanna know what it was?"

Andrew opens the passenger door of his truck for you, relieved just to hear your voice. "Tell me."

"It was Friday the 13th. You know, the one where the killer goes around and murders all the camp counselors."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't that scary. Some of it was even a little silly. But…there was this one part."

Andrew helps you up onto the leather seat in the cab and stands tall between your knees. He urges, "What part?"

"Well, it just…"

He sees it happen in real time; that slight embarrassment taking hold of you. You twist your fingers in your lap, fidgeting nervously. "Just what, sweetheart?"

Bashfully, you admit, "It got me thinking of you."

And he knows, before you even explain, that this particular scene had you thinking of what he does to you. Pope wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, breath growing a little slower. "Did it?"

"Mhm." You nod. "The killer is, like…super strong. He's tall and broad and big, you know? Like you are."

Andrew feels his face heat when you say it. "Big, huh?"

You giggle softly and press your forehead against his chest that is, in fact, big and broad. Corded with muscle beneath a masculine softness.

He nudges you back up with a shoulder. "Keep going," he says. "I'm still listening."

Your eyes shine brightly when your gaze finds his. When you continue, your voice is just a little lower, quieter—but that shy smile still persists. "He wears this hockey mask, too. Which got me thinking about that mask you wore for that one job—the one I helped with, remember?"

"Mhm."

"And the killer, he was…well, he was chasing one of the camp counselors through the woods. And it was late at night, and the actress was wearing the same shoes as me."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Same color and everything. And then she trips, and he catches her of course—"

"Well, of course."

You laugh at his dry attempt at a joke. "Of course. But then…I don't know. He has…he carries this big knife with him, too. Like a machete kinda. And…" You swallow hard, raise your index finger to his neck, and slide it across the crease in his skin. "He holds it to her, you know? Right here. And she looks so scared but…I don't think…if it were me. If it were…you."

Andrew picks it up then, what you're inadvertently asking him for. He knows you. Knows his sweetheart like the back of his hand, in fact. Can hear your desires even before you form the words around them. "You don't think you'd be scared? If I chased you through the woods and held a knife to your throat?"

Your breath stutters when he puts it plainly. But you don't speak, you just slowly shake your head.

He asks, holding eye contact so he'll know if you lie, "S'that what you want me to do to you?"

"I think…maybe…" You sigh, trying to fight of your shy demeanor. "Yes."

Truthfully, he's not sure what to make of it right away. Because Andrew would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it before. Or an adjacent thing, anyway. Chasing you down, tying you up. Seeing that look in your eye when you're not sure what happens next. Seeing just how far he could push, seeing how much he could take.

But it's all only fantasy. Buried beneath his own shame, his own guilt, practicing the learned behavior of suppression. Because it's you, and he's fire holding fragility in the palm of his hand, and Andrew Cody thinks he would die if he ever managed to hurt you. To truly hurt you.

He would die. Should die.

But…he's not taking, is he?

You're offering up your trust, your safety, your life. For him. For pleasure.

No, Andrew thinks. He's not taking, and it's not something as simple as surrender.

You're giving. Eagerly. Wishfully.

The weight of it overwhelms him.

Andrew lifts his hand to your face, brushing the back of his knuckles gently over your cheek. "And you're—you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Do you promise?"

"Cross my heart."

A smile pulls at his lips, hearing a phrase of his own echoed in your mouth. Vowing this time not on his darkened heart but on your sweet one. And because he'd give you anything, anything—even the very worst of him, Andrew nods stiffly. Says, "I think I want that, too."

Your shoulders slump just a little, relief bleeding the tension from your bones.

"But you'll tell me if you change your mind, right? Even during. If you…if you do get scared, I won't be upset or mad or—or anything. You just tell me, okay?"

You wind your arms and legs around him, pulling his body against yours, head resting at the crook of his neck. "I'm not afraid of you."

Only then does he feel himself relax, melting beneath your touch. Andrew lifts your face to his with a finger beneath your chin. But as soon as he presses his mouth to yours, his phone begins to ring.

With a sigh, he fishes the pesky device out of his pocket and presses it to his ear, listening to his brother fill him in on the situation going on back home, outside of the perfect bubble of devotion and safety he's created here with you.

When he hangs up, there's melancholy in his voice as he admits, "I've…I've gotta go. Scouting something for a job next week. And I won't make it tomorrow, either. But…Thursday night. Alright?"

"It'll be the last night before summer camp is over," you say with an excited smirk. "So we can…"

Pope nods. "Just don't—don't come all the way off the trail. alright? You find someplace to hide an' I'll…I'll find you. Yeah?"

He doesn't miss the flash of excitement as it flickers through your pretty eyes. But you only nod in agreement, press a kiss to his cheek and say, "Be careful. And come back to me in one piece."

Far sooner than he'd like, you're turning to walk back to camp and Andrew is turning the key in the ignition.

But even knowing he won't see you for two days, the unsettled feeling is soothed in knowing what comes next.

And when he swaps Craig and Deran out at the scouting spot, Andrew is left alone to his own thoughts and they're filled with only you.

Of how lucky he is that of all the people in the world you could choose to shower in your affection, you choose him. It makes Andrew feel lucky and blessed and perhaps a little undeserving.

He thinks about how pretty you always look and how much harder he'll be standing over you with a knife in his hand.

The thought does occur that maybe this whole thing is fucked up—that he is fucked up for wanting it as much as he does. But then he remembers the brightness in your eyes when you'd asked this of him, and it settles something heavy in his chest.

He moves through the next few days in a sort of haze. Unfocused, because his mind is stuck on you. Not an unusual thing, but more intense than any given day.

And by Thursday morning, Andrew feels like he's buzzing with excitement. A little nervous, too, because he wants this to be perfect for you.

He even picks out an outfit. Andrew isn't the type to typically care that much about how he looks, as long as it's neat and clean and comfortable.

But for this, he picks out a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie, an attempt to blend himself into the shadows where he'll be hiding in wait.

He doesn't own a hockey mask, but he does own an all black ski mask, and…there's a part of him that thinks maybe you'll like it even more.

It takes longer to pick out a knife than an outfit, though.

He has quite the collection, in truth. Mostly smaller ones, easily concealed in a pocket or a boot.

But the one he settles on is a little flashier. Sharp around the edges. It's got a heavy, four knuckled grip and a chrome blade. Serrated with a saw back and a glint at its point.

It's pretty, like you are.

Andrew packs his truck with a few extras for afterwards, too. Your favorite blanket. A thermos full of icy water. A towel and a change of clothes and the t-shirt he'd worn to bed the night before just in case you ask for one to sleep in.

He stops at Deran's bar before he goes. Sets a stack of cash on the table and says, "I'm busy tonight. So don't bother me."

His brother asses him, trying to unearth an answer he won't be telling. Because this is something meant for Andrew only. Deran might know about your shared codependence, but all he needs to know apart from that is the truth; that you're a sweetheart.

"O…kay?"

Pope's jaw flexes. "I mean it. Don't call me unless one of us is dead."

Deran laughs nervously. "Somethin' going on I should know about?"

"No."

"Okay, well…you're acting weird, Pope. I mean, what? I'm just supposed to agree and not ask any questions?"

"Yes."

"You pullin' a solo job or something?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a solo job."

Deran levels his stare. And then asks with the smallest trace of amusement in his voice, "You breaking in to a summer camp tonight?"

Pope's jaw flexes. He blinks, and points at the cash. "That's for whoever takes my scouting shift," he says. And because he doesn't trust himself to say nothing more, he turns and leaves.

It takes more effort than he'd like to admit to ignore his brother's laughing in the background.

But none of that matters, Pope tells himself. Not now. Not tonight. Not when dusk falls, and he parks his truck in the familiar spot on the side of the road.

Not when he slides the freshly-polished knife into the leather sheath at his hip or when he pulls the black ski mask over his face.

Andrew's heart beats fast as he steps into the woods. The trees here are tall, the underbrush thick. The air smells like soil and rain and there's a faint aroma of fresh blossoms beneath it all.

His steps are careful. Meticulous. He's silent as he disappears into the cover of thick branches and green leaves. Darkness begins to descend, and Andrew lies in wait, knowing any minute now you'll come.

Knowing you'll run.

He's off the trail. Not far, but enough that you'd never spot him without knowing exactly where he's at. He breathes in deep, shedding free of that veil he wears of a righteous man, letting the his own darkness breach the surface of his psyche.

Pope hears you before he sees you. The branches breaking beneath your sneakers, the subtle shift of your feet. And when he does see you, coming into view just up on the trail, the thought crosses his mind that you got all dressed up for this, too.

Your hair's done up all pretty, and there's glitter on your eyelids and mascara on your lashes. There's even a shimmery gloss on your lips, and Pope can't help but think of how nice your glittering mouth would look around his cock.

He doesn't approach, not right away. He just follows close behind, observing the way you move when you think he's not watching. You're a little more stiff—more aware than you are with him. Like his presence alone puts you at ease, letting you become the sweet girl you are with the protective predator at your back.

You're wearing a pair of shorts and a black tank top over a bikini, the straps thin. Easily cut away, Pope thinks.

He steps deliberately on a stick, the sound loud and echoing in the silence of the forest.

Pope watches you turn towards it, your eyes wide and searching. But he's too well hidden in the shadows.

Yet still, you know he's there.

You turn and run.

Pope gives you a head start. Counts to ten in his head before chasing after you, a dark shadow that meets yours all too quickly.

You look back over your shoulder and stumble when you see him catching up, your balance faltering for only a second.

The trees blur at the edges of his vision as he closes the space between you. When he's close enough to hear your panting breaths, Pope flings his hand out to grab your elbow.

You give a yelp and wrench your arm away, slipping out of his hold.

A raw, animalistic sound of frustration rumbles deep in his chest.

Pope forces himself forward, breathing hard beneath the knit wool of his mask. His heart pounds in his ears, hands itching for another touch of your skin.

You're fast. Faster than he'd though you'd be. A sweet little gazelle slipping fluidly through the brush.

But he's the hungry wolf nipping at your heels, and it doesn't take long before he catches up with you again.

Pope surges forward, this time waiting until he's close enough to enclose his arms around your waist.

You let out a cry, loud and echoing in the trees, squirming in his hold that you'll never free yourself from. He's too strong, too big, too mean.

He holds you tight against him, trying to wedge his leg between your thighs as you struggle. Pope reaches for the knife at his hip and unsheathes it, gripping the handle hard as he brings the blade to your throat.

Your squirming settles.

Pope smiles when he sees you swallow hard. "Yeah," he whispers, breath warm against your ear. "You know what that is, huh?"

He pushes you forward, sharp blade pressing against your neck. You let him maneuver you, forcing you over to a tree a few feet away.

The bark is dark and rough, the trunk thin enough for what he intends.

Pope grabs your shoulder and turns you around, pressing your back against the tree. He lifts the knife and presses the point of it to your chin, lifting your head so you're looking right at him.

Your shimmery lips are parted, your eyes wide and zealous and wanting. Andrew doesn't think he's ever seen you this needy before. So filled with desire that your eyes are glassy with tears.

"Aw, sweetheart," he says tenderly. "You gonna cry? Shh. S'okay. You can cry if you need to, hm?"

A whimper stutters out of you, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you close your eyes.

Pope leans forward and licks at the wetness, drinking in the saltiness of your overwhelm. "You're pretty when you cry," he whispers.

He rights his blade, pressing the edge against your throat again. And then he caresses your arm, fingers sliding all the way down to your hand.

"Don't move," he orders, rounding the tree. Andrew sets your hand against the back of it, reaches for your other arm, and brings them together. He takes one of the black zip ties he'd stashed in his hoodie pocket and wraps it tight around your wrists, the plastic sliding noisily over the raised notches.

Pope comes back around the tree to face you, standing just a few feet away so he can get a good look at you. Sweet and pretty, completely at his mercy.

He could do anything to you, anything. And you'd let him. Perfect, perverted girl that you are.

The muscles in your shoulder flex as you fight against your restraints, trying to free yourself.

Pope smiles beneath his mask and steps closer, bringing the tip of his blade to your face. Carefully, he slides the cold steel down your cheek, over your pulse, across your chest.

"Please," you cry, shifting frantically from one foot to another.

He hooks the knife beneath the straps against your collarbone and pulls, cutting them clean.

You whimper, and Andrew feels the adrenaline in his blood peak. His skin buzzes with the power he holds, watching you twitch in fear and arousal alike.

He shifts the blade over, to the other side of your chest. He cuts away what remains of your straps and feels his cock pulse as your breasts bounce, released from their confines. With his free hand, Pope yanks the fabric down your chest, baring you to him, letting the polyester gather just above your hips.

A whimper escapes your mouth, and then his name, and Andrew pauses.

But then you say, "Touch me, please. Please, please, I can't—"

He sees the way your thighs press together. The way your hips move, chasing what little friction the seam of your shorts allows.

Pope tilts his head. "Filthy thing, aren't you?" He slides his blade down your chest, over the swell of your breast. He gently presses the tip of it against your hardened nipple, smiling at the way you squirm in response. "Got everyone fooled, hm? Always acting so shy. Embarrassed so easily."

His hand comes to your center, pressing hard between your legs. You moan at the contact, the sound desperate and guttural.

"But how pretty you sound when you're afraid," he whispers, rubbing his hand over your clothed cunt. He drags the tip of the knife across your sternum, laying the cold metal flat against your other nipple. "Begging me to touch you. To fuck you. To hurt you."

"Yes, please. I need it, I need it, Pope, please—!"

"Shh," he coos, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw, squeezing hard. "Open your mouth."

You do, and Pope sets his blade between your teeth.

"Hold it," he orders. "Don't drop it. Understand?"

You nod frantically, biting down hard.

"Good." Pope unbuttons your shorts and drags them down your legs. He tugs them off over your sneakers, leaving you in nothing but your cut top around your belly and bikini bottoms.

He drops down to his knees and hooks his fingers around the strings tied at your hips. And as he slowly lowers them, a groan leaves him as he sees just how wet you are.

Sticky and slick, webs of arousal clinging to the polyester fabric as he pulls it away. Pope doesn't think he's ever been this hard before in his entire fucking life.

"Sweet girl," he mutters, discarding your bottoms. He wraps his big hands around the backs of your thighs and pulls them apart. "This where you need me?"

A cry escapes from between your clenched teeth. He thinks you look real cute like this. Squirmy and needy, all for him.

He brings his hand to your cunt, sliding only the tip of his index finger through your syrupy folds. He collects your wetness, dragging it down to press his finger into your entrance.

Pope curls it upwards, stroking that soft spot inside of you, and watches as you struggle to hold the knife in your mouth. Drool begins to collect at the corners of your lips, slowly leaking down your shin. There's a crease between your brows, frustration manifested.

With his free hand, Pope spreads your cunt open. "Pretty pussy's just crying for me, huh?" He pulls his finger out of you, painfully slow, and drags it back up to your swollen clit. He circles it gently, watching it twitch beneath his touch.

And then, with no warning at all, he brings his hand sharply down against your cunt.

You gasp, teeth parting just enough that you drop the knife.

It clatters to the ground between your feet, and Pope looks up at you with a darkened look in his eye. "What did I say?"

Your clit throbs beneath his hand. "M'sorry, m'sorry, I know—"

Pope picks up the knife and wipes both sides of it on his jeans, cleaning the dirt and spit from around the blade. "It's alright," he soothes. "I'm gonna give you one more chance. Okay?"

With a frantic nod you say, "Okay, okay—I'll be good—I promise I'll be good."

He stands, slides his knuckles tenderly over your cheek, and smiles sweetly at you. "I know you will be, sweetheart."

Pope sets the knife back between your teeth and lowers himself down to his knees again

This time, he pulls his mask up just enough to expose his mouth. He leans forward and slides a pointed tongue through all your wetness, drinking deep. You moan in tandem with him, satisfied fully for the first time all night.

He licks every inch of you, tongue hot and wet against your clit. He slides it up and down, up and down, circling your opening that flutters around nothing, begging to be filled.

Pope eats at you like a man starved for it, chin messy and covered in your slick. He presses his face against you, hardly breathing as he licks and sucks feverishly. You taste so sweet, a blend of ambrosia made all for him.

His pretty girl. His sweetheart.

He can hear it in your moans when release threatens. Can feel the way your clit throbs when he sucks it deep into his mouth, tongue flicking over it, ratcheting your pleasure higher and higher.

Pope doesn't let it happen. Pulls his mouth away from you at the very last second, ignoring your whining to slap your cunt again. Not as sharply this time, yet still no less forgiving.

You cry out, thighs trembling, drool covering your chin.

He taps your clit with his fingers. Not quite a slap this time, but not meant for pleasure, either. Just a quick rhythm to keep you right there, right on the edge.

Pope sucks in a breath through his teeth. "So fuckin' wet," he muses. "Does it hurt, baby? Does it burn right here, right in your belly 'cause you need to cum? Hm?"

You try to grit out a response, but it's muffled by the steel in your mouth. Pope stands to his feet and wraps a hand around your neck.

He licks your mouth, right over the blade you hold, cock leaking now behind his zipper. Your eyes are so full of lust and adoration and love that it makes him feel high on it.

The taste of metal and drool and strawberry lip gloss coats his tongue. Pope gently eases the blade from your mouth, smirking when your shoulders slump in relief.

He returns the blade to the leather casing at his hip and palms himself through his jeans.

"I need—fuck, Pope—I need you to fuck me. Please. Please."

It makes him laugh. All those shy, sweet words gone completely now, overshadowed by your desperation. "Yeah," he says. "I know it."

Pope undoes the button of his jeans, watching you watch him.

Your eyes are so eager as he slides his zipper down and reaches in to free his cock, thick and so hard that just stroking it has him fighting back a sigh of bliss.

He closes the small distance between you, lifting one of your legs and setting it up over his hip. Pope lines himself up at your entrance, sliding his cock through your spit-slick folds once before pressing inside.

It feels like solace. Satisfying, blessed solace as he sinks fully inside your cunt, filling you up, spreading you open.

"Oh god—"

Andrew thrusts his hips into you. Hard and unforgiving. The bark of the tree scrapes against your spine, but there's nothing but euphoria on your face.

He slams his hips up into you, fucking you as deep as your anatomy will allow, the head of his cock pressing right up against your womb.

"That's it," he mutters. "Look so fuckin' pretty taking my cock." Pope sets a punishing pace, finding your clit with his thumb and circling it.

Your head falls back, and your sweet moans echoing in the trees. Each wet slide of his cock reverberates in the open space, and the pleasure buzzes beneath you skin. "Don't stop, oh god—please—"

Pope loves the sound of the word in your mouth.

Please.

You beg so beautifully, music to his sick and twisted heart. He knows what he does to you is perverse and wicked and he knows that he shouldn't want to hurt you like this.

But he does. God, he does.

And what's worse is that you want it just as bad. More, even.

He fucks his cock into you, grunting low at how tight and wet you are around him. "You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Hm?"

"Yes, yes yes—fuck, Andrew, please. Love you so much, I love you so fucking—hmm—"

The words send a shiver down his spine. To hear it now, while he's fucking you like this, rough and cruel and without mercy—it's euphoric.

He's never been loved by anyone else. Not like this. Not so true or so raw. You ask to be given the very worst of him and when he does you love it still.

The velvety walls of your cunt squeeze tight around him.

"Cum for me, baby," he orders. "Give it to me. S'mine. All mine. My fucking girl. My sweetheart. There you go. That's it."

He fucks you through it, even when his own releases crashes into him. Even when his cock grows too sensitive as he pumps you full of his cum, Pope doesn't stop the rhythm of his hips until your thighs tremble. Until your body twitches, balance faltering, pulling tight at the restraints around your wrists.

He's gentle when he pulls out of you to tuck his cock back into his jeans, and quick to grab his blade, reach around the trunk of the tree, and cut the zip ties away.

Your knees buckle, but Andrew is there to catch you. The way he silently vows he always will be. "Hey," he murmurs. "You're alright. Here, hold onto me."

He places your hands on his shoulders, and grabs your shorts from the forest floor. He shakes the dirt out of them and carefully pulls them back up your legs, righting the denim at your hips.

He then removes his ski mask completely, then his hoodie. Pope pulls it over your head, helping you get your arms through the too-big sleeves. When he's satisfied you're warm enough, he wipes gently at your face with careful fingers, cleaning away your tears and spit.

The entire time, you wear this sated, sleepy smile. Staring up at him through your lashes, mascara smudged now.

When he speaks, his voice is quiet. Soft. The words break a little in his mouth. "Are you…okay?"

You nod immediately. "I'm really good," you say. "Are you okay?"

Andrew kisses your forehead, cradling your face in his big hands. "Course I'm okay. Just wanna take care of you. Will you let me do that?"

An easy giggles leaves you, and Andrew wraps his arm around your shoulders.

He leads you back to his truck, where he hand feeds you your favorite snacks and urges you to drink water. He holds you close, your back to his chest, stroking his fingers delicately over your arm.

Your wrists are tender and beginning to bruise already, and Andrew thinks he'd hate himself for it if you hadn't told him how pretty they make you feel.

He tries to massage some of the tension from your shoulders, and wraps you up tight in a blanket. You fall asleep in his lap, safe and sound with his arms around you.

Only in the silence does Andrew admit to himself just how much he enjoyed the night. Only to himself does he admit that maybe he does want to hurt you.

Just a little bit. Just enough.

And he thinks it's not so bad, is it, if you want it too?

He gently wakes you just before sunrise. Just before the alarms back at the camp will start to go off, just before your fellow counselors will notice your absence.

Andrew hates to see you go, but the ache is soothed by knowing you'll return to him later tonight, just after five when he comes to pick up both you and his niece.

You kiss him hard before you start back down the trail in the woods. Look up at him through your lashes with a playful smile and embarrassment in your eyes.

Pope laughs when he sees it. Thinks it's a little silly, after all you've done together, to be shy about anything with him. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing…just—well…" He waits. Gives you the time to gather the courage. "Maybe, I don't know…maybe sometime, we could…do it again?"

A grin stretches wide across his face. "Of course we can, baby."

Your eyes brighten. "You swear?"

He thinks he'd promise you just about anything, as long as you keep looking at him like that. Like he put the stars in the sky. Like you're so unfathomably in love.

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

And it’s always the same order; one scoop of chocolate in the small blue bowl — Harry’s. You grab it without thinking, muscle memory by now. James only ever gets a coffee, sometimes, on the days he looks a little more tired than usual. But today, it’s just the ice cream.

Your thoughts are absolutely not on the dessert, though. They’re on his hands, his forearms, the way his shirt sleeves are rolled up just enough to show tan skin and veins that have no business looking that good.

James Potter was no ordinary man. Not even close. He was the kind of attractive that made people double-take without meaning to — the kind that made your coworkers go quiet the first time he walked in, whispering behind the counter about the dad with the glasses. He was a single father who co-parented, though you had no idea if he was currently single or not.

Even now, months later, your coworkers still find themselves stealing glances at him whenever he walks in, pretending it’s nothing. The girls by the window don’t even bother hiding it, their eyes openly following him as though he’s a dangling piece of meat.

And yet, despite all that attention, despite the small crowd of silent admirers he unconsciously attracts, he remains simply James Potter; a kind, steady regular who comes in with his son, orders the same chocolate scoop, and smiles at you as though you were just another part of his routine.

Not that it matters. You know you have no chance. He’s at least fifteen years older than you, impossibly out of reach, and far too alluring. He’s just a customer, a devastatingly attractive one whom you absolutely should not be imagining in ways that have nothing to do with ice cream.

You set the bowl in front of Harry, and the kid doesn’t even pretend he’s going to wait. He digs in instantly, the spoon clattering against the ceramic as chocolate smears across his cheek like paint. It pulls a laugh out of you before you can stop it, he’s just impossibly sweet and adorable. 

James watches his son with this soft, unguarded tenderness that hits you square in the ribs every single time. Like nothing else in the world exists for him in that moment except making sure Harry doesn’t drop the bowl or fall out of the chair.

And it shouldn’t be allowed — how good he looks like this. How natural. How utterly at ease in a role that would make other men fumble.

He glances up at you, expression gentle, and your heartbeat runs faster. “Come on, Harry,” James says softly. “Say thank you.”

Harry beams at you. “Thank you, miss y/n!”

You crouch slightly to meet his eyes. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

James’ eyes flick up to you, warm and easy. “Thank you, love.”

It isn’t even meant to be flirtatious; you’re sure he tosses that term at anyone without thinking. Yet it hits you straight in the chest, making your poor heart race. His smile is slow and warm, a little too knowing, and you get the unsettling sense that he’s fully aware of the effect he has on you.

He’s probably just being polite, but your brain is far too busy screaming holy fuck to care about logic.

You straighten quickly, because you can feel the heat crawling up your neck. “Of course. I’ll see you both next time.”

Harry waves with sticky hands as they head out. James places a light hand on the door for you as he leaves, something so small yet so fucking irresistible you almost groan.

The door shuts. The evening air slips into the café. They are halfway down the street when you realize you have been staring at the window like an idiot.

You sigh, muttering under your breath as you wipe the counter “Fuck me, he’s too hot.”

The next week drifts by slowly, the kind of slow that makes every shift feel twice as long. By the time evening hits, the cafe’s nearly dead. Only one couple sits near the window, finishing their last bites and murmuring quietly to each other.

You move between tables with a damp cloth, wiping down surfaces and pretending you are not counting the minutes until he walks in. It has become a problem, honestly. 

The way you perk up when the door opens is humiliating. You hate how obvious it must be to your coworkers. You cannot help it though. James Potter does something to your brain, something indecent and horribly pathetic.

You’re bent over a table when the bell rings. You straighten immediately. He walks in alone this time, tall and gorgeous in that unfair way, hair mussed like he kept running his hands through it, tie loosened around his neck.

No Harry.

Your heart kicks up.

“Hi, Mr. Potter,” you greet, smoothing your apron even though it’s already perfect. 

He takes his usual seat near the corner and gives you a soft smile. “The usual?” you ask gently, hands resting on your hips.

“Yes, please.” He taps his fingertips lightly on the wooden table, a small habit you have memorized without meaning to.

“No little Harry today?” You chuckle softly, though a fucked up part of you is already thinking oh god, it’s just him tonight.

“Oh, no,” he replies. He leans back a little, looking relaxed in a way he rarely gets to be. “He’s sleeping over at his uncle’s place.”

You smile. “Well, when you see him, tell him I said hi. I’ll be right back with your coffee, Mr. Potter.”

It takes barely two minutes to fix it exactly how he likes; rich, dark, a splash of cream. You try not to think about how embarrassing it is that you know his preference by heart, right down to the way he always warms his hands around the mug before taking the first sip. You bring it over and set it in front of him.

“Thank you.” His fingers curl around the cup, voice warm and a little tired, somehow making the simplest words sound devastatingly attractive.

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else.” You turn to walk away, trying to seem professional even though your body is buzzing with awareness of him.

You barely take three steps before he clears his throat and calls your name.

You stop instantly and look over your shoulder, brows raised.

He sits there with the cup in his hand, cheeks faintly flushed, eyes soft and a bit nervous. 

“Excuse me if this is an odd question,” he says, letting out a tiny laugh as if he is embarrassed. “But… when do you leave?”

Your pulse jumps.

“At six,” you answer slowly, stepping a little closer. “May I ask why?”

***

“Oh—fuck…” You gasp, head tilting back while your eyes struggle to stay open. It’s pathetic how desperate you feel watching the way he fills you, thick and deep, every thrust making your stomach tighten. 

Your hands slide up your chest, squeezing your breasts because the extra pressure sends sharp, dizzy waves of pleasure straight to your core.

James’ low chuckle vibrates through you. He looks down between your bodies, watching with a hunger that makes your skin burn as his cock disappears inside your soaked, greedy cunt. 

One of his hands is planted beside your head for balance, the other gliding over your waist, your stomach, your ribs—touching you like he owns every inch.

“Listen to you,” he mutters, voice rough and amused.  “Being so loud when the flat upstairs is probably awake.” His hand tightens suddenly at your hip, dragging you closer so he can bury himself deeper. The shift forces a shocked, breathless cry out of you and your back arches helplessly.

The angle is obscene. You feel every inch of him, and oh god, James Potter is massive.

Your thighs tremble as you try to breathe through it, cunt clenching around him with no shame. James moves his hand slowly up your stomach again, the heat of his palm making your insides twist even tighter.

Then his fingers snap against your cheek in a sharp, unexpected slap.

A stunned cry tears from your throat, the sting blooming across your face as your mouth falls open. 

Before you can even catch your breath, James hooks his thumb between your lips, forcing them wider, pressing deep into the soft flesh inside your cheek.

“That gets you going, doesn’t it?” he says, tone thick with dark satisfaction. “Taking it like a filthy little thing who doesn’t know how to behave.”

Your cunt tightens violently around him, betraying you instantly. A broken moan falls out around his thumb, and your hand scrambles down between your legs, fingers circling your clit with frantic, needy pressure.

James laughs, quiet and breathless, biting his bottom lip as he watches you come apart for him. His thrusts get harder, sharper, punishing.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Touching yourself for me like you’re starving for it. Bet you’d love it if someone heard. Bet you want someone to hear how fucking desperate you are.”

You choke on another moan, hips grinding to meet his every push, completely undone.

“It feels… fuck—James, it feels so good—”

A satisfied sound rumbles in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours like he wants to feel every noise you make.

“Yeah?” he whispers, almost proud. “I know it does.”

Heat rushes to your face, your breath catching on a broken sound that absolutely gives you away. You try to rein it back in, but you can’t. Your body keeps chasing him, pushing up into every demanding roll of his hips like you’re starved.

A strangled cry escapes you, and your fingers grip him tighter, shivering as the heat coils tighter in your stomach, spreading outward, dragging every part of you along for the ride. 

James’s grin is dark, filthy, like he’s enjoying every helpless, desperate second of it. “That’s it, baby. So fucking good… can you feel it building? Yeah, I know you can.”

Your moans hit new heights, loud, messy, shameless, and James leans closer, his hands roaming over you with total ownership, his mouth pressing against your skin as he whispers, low and hot.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he growls, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So wet… so tight… how about I fill you up properly? Give you a baby? Make you mine, yeah? Make Harry a big brother?”

Your breath catches, a broken moan tumbling from your lips. “Yes… please… James…”

He chuckles low and dark, tugging your hair lightly to tilt your head back. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, a possessive glint in his eyes. “I’ll fill you up so good,”

Without warning, he flips you over, pressing you down onto the mattress with ease. 

Now, Shiu Kong must have known what he was walking into.

He must have-

Or at least one would think—hell, Shiu himself had assumed so and mentally prepared himself for about fifteen minutes outside the barn house before walking inside to tell the two of you to keep it down (those sensitive horse hybrids were complaining!) But he had never expected- fuck. This was all that damned Kusakabe’s fault.

It’d been about two months since Fushiguro Toji was added to his farmyard roster. Ever since his supposed ‘best friend’ had gone and dumped the proud bull hybrid on Shiu’s otherwise idyllic farm. It was meant to be temporary - just a few days watching over him until Kusakabe returned from a Hybrid Farms Convention in Tokyo. Meant to be…

But he was bigger than the rest. Broader. Gruffer. With pierced ears and the sleekest black coat on his lower half. 

So Toji had drawn gazes - one of which being from you, his most prized cow hybrid, specifically.

And Shiu couldn’t have that.

Especially not given the fact that you were the sweetest, softest thing…oh, alright you were his favorite. A part of him almost expected that having a prime bull hybrid around so many unmated cow hybrids would be nothing but trouble. But he just didn’t expect Toji to go after his favorite- anyone but you.

Thus he’d spared no expense keeping the two of you apart. 

Yet in the end it hadn’t mattered how many padlocks (twenty, at the last count) or planks that Shiu had fastened on Toji’s separate enclosure—because a padlock is only as good as it’s locked. And only three days into Toji’s stay, he’d forgotten to lock that damned thing before leaving the farm on an errand- was about halfway out of town by the time that he’d remembered. 

And turned that truck around in the middle of the highway.

Of course, by the time that Shiu actually arrived at the farm and thrown those barn house doors open - much like he had done tonight - the two of you were already tangled up n’ mated. With you humming delightedly into Toji’s neck—bite marks down every inch of it. The creamy scent of pheromones wafting out of the barn house and saturating the farmyard air.

And Toji himself hadn’t spared you an ounce of mercy.

As teeth marks were indented all along your supple skin; especially ‘round each areola of yours which Toji pinched. Letting milk flood out of Shiu’s beloved cow hybrid. Looking straight at him.

Fuck.

Shiu remembers it as clear as day.

Did he mention that he was rock-fucking-hard then? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…

Because it only makes him think about how hard he was right now, too. 

He was staring at a vision that was quite similar: Toji was ramming into you like there was no tomorrow- so fast that he’s only seeing the blur of his angry cock and the smack-smack-smacking of skin-on-skin. Except this time you were on all fours.

So Shiu was given the perfect view of your pretty tail swishing from side-to-side. Only growing more agitated as Toji grows faster.

The farmer watches as Toji’s hand wraps around your tail and drags you backwards- so disrespectful. A few more bite marks. A few more shakes of your pretty thighs - he gets the sense that you’d be collapsing onto the floor if Toji wasn’t helping hold you up. And once again Shiu’s struck by just how pliable you are underneath the other man.

“C’mon now-” Toji grunts. “Giddy up. Almost there.”

You’re shaking even harder. Your skin was glistening with sweat. Your eyes dazedly drift towards the other man - and he knows by that glint in your eyes- he knows it. 

He knows that you’re about to cum.

And you’re throwing your head back with what he assumes to be a moan announcing your crescendo—“Shi- oh.”

Oh.

Were you about to…?

Oh fucking-

And Shiu considers himself an intellectual man - he really does. He’s usually quick with his quips and isn’t the most inerudite of the rowdy bunch down at the bars; but this…this leaves his brain blue-screening and his mouth hanging stupidly open. Almost in a mirror of yours.

He can only stand and watch - cock throbbing in his denim overalls - as you’re tremblin’ all between Toji’s harsh thrusts. The way he fucks you is rude—as if the sound of the other man’s name on your lips almost spurs him on further.

He had to remind you who your mate was, after all.

You’re growing limp once your wave of bliss is completely bated. And it’s with a deafening slurp! that Toji himself finishes.

Polishin’ off what Shiu assumes to be your sweetest inside with his long, clingy ropes of cum- so much so that he’s seeing a ring of white start to formulate around Toji’s length. Lucky fucker. Shiu’s mouth goes dry as Toji pins your hips to the hay-littered ground and fucks and fucks his cum into you ruthlessly.

After a few prolonged minutes, he finally sets your waist free and lets your body droop onto the floor completely.

And between pants, Toji manages to whisper- “What the fuck?” Though his keen senses had already picked up on the fact that the farmer had intruded on your little…rut session, it’s only now that Toji’s finally turning.

The veins on his neck popping and prominent. Eyes greener than the brightest field - narrowed. It was as if he was finally seeing the farmer as more than simple amusement or some guy to poke ‘round with his horns sometimes - a challenge.

Was it just Shiu or were Toji’s horns looking extra sharp tonight? 

“And remember that.” Shiu speaks with courage that he did not have—to hell with not biting the hand that feeds. Shiu might’ve been the farmer but he was less than a pigsty in Toji’s eyes. Or so he felt. “Next time your pretty girl cums, she’ll be saying my name.”

Toji doesn’t even pull out of you before he snipes- “Next time you say shit like that, they’ll carry you out in a wheelbarrow.”

“And replace me?” Shiu snorts. “You think she’d milk for anyone else?”

“Pig-”

You, pointedly, kept your mouth shut to avoid saying anything more inflammatory.

And you best believe that he’s stepping back from those barn house doors as soon as he could - what was that he said about considering himself an intellectual man? He’s letting the doors slam behind him and waiting for a moment outside until he hears the two of you start it up again—those horse hybrids and their beauty sleep be damned.

With that said, Shiu takes a deep breath and heads back to his farmhouse.

The time was 12:28AM and he spends the next hour rubbin’ his cock raw to the memory of you almost moaning his name.

.

.

.

“…What did you just say to me?” And something must’ve shown in Shiu’s tone, because his friend groans from the other end of the line—‘oh, c’mon man-’

And never in his life has he let out a louder sigh. Pointed, too.

Because here Shiu was carrying on his early morning duties - ensuring herd checks and watering some of the trees, just going into the barn house to do some milking - when he gets a phone call—and from who else? Kusakabe Atsuya himself.

Now, Shiu has long since gotten used to dreading Kusakabe’s phone calls. The man’s his best friend, but a phone call from him was never bound to end well - he’s the entire reason he has a massive bull hybrid mated with you in the first place. So needless to say it didn’t start off on the right foot. But then the words left his mouth—

“-Tokyo Hybrid Farm Convention-”

And Shiu almost ended the call then and there. 

But Kusakabe must’ve had an inkling. Because he yelped out a few pleas- “Wait wait wait wait- please, I promise you’re going to want to hear this.”

And Shiu had no choice but to groan and comply. At least hear the man out. “Alright, but you better be quick. The cow hybrids need to be milked before noon.”

“Oh please- you and I both know that you’re just impatient to see your ‘pretty girl’, yeah?” Kusakabe hurries before his best friend loses his patience. “Anyways—hear me out- there’s a Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo-”

“I’m not-”

“And this time it’s for the hybrids.” Kusakabe cuts him off. Then basks in Shiu’s stunned silence for a few seconds, “And I know I ended up dumping Toji on you for a few days…and eventually…permanently, but let me make it up to you by getting him a new hoof-trimming chute. And maybe while I’m there I can even get him fitted for a new bull ring.”

Shiu rubs his chin in thoughtfulness. “I have been meaning to get him a larger one…”

“Then it’s settled.” Kusakabe says gleefully. “I’ll get you the ring and take Toji off your hands for a day.”

“Can’t it be a few days?” Shiu grumbles.

“No way, man. He’s all yours- consider me the babysitter.” 

“Whatever- better than nothing.” 

“So I’ll pick him up in an hour or two, yeah?” Kusakabe affirms, and from the other end of the line Shiu can hear some shuffling. A truck door slamming. “I’ll have him back to you around midnight.”

“Take your time.”

And with just a few more words shared, Shiu’s ending the call. He stands at the door to the barn house in a way far too reminiscent of the night before—and from here he can see you nuzzlin’ up to Toji for warmth as the early morning sunlight creeps into your hay-scattered abode. It really was a heartwarming sight, the two of you - if only Toji wasn’t glaring at him as if he wanted to trample over him.

However, this time, Shiu was the one with the upper hand. “Guess what, hotshot?” He goads at the bull hybrid, and it works to make his ol’ golden nose ring huff. “You’re going to be going on a little field trip today.”

Toji scoffs and rests his chin on your head.

“Oh no- I’m afraid this one’s going to be a bachelor’s trip.” The most wicked smile twitches at his lips. He watches Toji’s brows furrow and his front legs start to kick at the ground as if about to charge. “You’ll be going to the Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo with your old pal Kusakabe, isn’t that exciting?”

The look on Toji’s face was ‘most certainly not’.

“Then we can replace that old-fashioned ring of yours with a new one. Make that ugly mug a little more handsome, hm?”

“My ass is more handsome than you.”

“Real mature.” Shiu shakes his head as Toji flips him off and struts away outside—his midnight-black hair gleams under the morning sun, and the muscles of his upper half are almost Herculean. Shiu follows your gaze to the bull hybrid. 

With a fond chuckle, the farmer then walks over to you and runs his fingers across your scalp. Reaching that one spot he knew you loved so much- scratching behind your hybrid ears. “I don’t know how you put up with him, pretty girlie.”

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” You’re softly nuzzling into him.

Shiu shudders as he thinks back to last night. “Yeah, well I think I know him a little too- hey, are you feeling a little warm?”

“Hmmm?” Absent-mindedly you’re humming.

“I’m serious, girl.” Shiu’s brows furrow- and he’s taking his hand off of your scalp to feel the temperature on your forehead. “I think you’re a little warm.”

Eyes closed, you’re only pushing against him- yearning for his touch. And Shiu tries not to think about that too hard. “I was just in the sun, Shiu.”

“Yeah but…” Now that he thinks about it- you were particularly touchy today—almost needy. And he’s sure he wasn’t imagining the scent of soft sweet cream that lingered in the barn house today. Although that wouldn’t make sense - cow hybrids were prone to one heat cycle a month, for about a week give or take.

And you’d just finished your cycle two weeks ago…Shiu would know.

He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep those past few days. And as if that wasn’t bad enough- immediately after your heat, Toji’s rut had started up. 

The farmer turns his head and looks at the little homemade calendar hung up at the end of the barn. It contained all the dates of the hybrids’ heats and ruts and when he might expect them next—and not to brag, but it had a 97% accuracy rate. The 3% was when Toji wanted to piss him off and somehow manage to draw his rut out a little longer.

But according to that- you should be in the all-clear. He furrows his brows at the color-coded green zone. What can he say? Shiu Kong liked pretty things, okay?

Aforementioned Shiu Kong looks at you. “Maybe…hm, maybe it’s just a little fever, pretty girl. That brute must’ve worn you out.” You’re shyly bumping your shoulder into him, and he runs his hand across your body. “Now then I need you to get some rest, okay? Go sleep and I’ll bring over your breakfast- oh.” Just then, his hand dips up to the swell of your chest where your tits were. “And I’ll milk you tomorrow depending on how you’re feeling, does that sound good?”

Almost dazedly, you’re nodding with a smile. “Mmm s’good, Shiu.”

A thrill zips down his spine - he ignores it. “G-good. Go on now.” And right before he himself leaves the barn house, Shiu says. “And do try to convince Toji that it’d be good for him to get a new ring. The fool doesn’t realize the power he has in emptying Kusakabe’s pockets.”

Shiu gently closes the door to head back to his duties.

He flips Toji off behind his back.

.

.

.

At 12:21PM on the dot (Kusakabe said he’d be here half an hour ago) his best friend’s truck is parked in his vast farmland. And Shiu helps Toji into a hybrid trailer—he could have just gone in the passenger-side seat, but Shiu didn’t trust Toji one bit to not just open the door and jump out. Perhaps even outrun that truck at the first instance of missing you.

Honestly, he might just do the same with the trailer too…

But Shiu doesn’t tell Kusakabe this - instead he’s letting the man load his prized bull hybrid. And then clapping him on the shoulder, “Alright- he’s your problem now.”

“Just for today.” Kusakabe rolls his eyes. “A day longer and he might just drive the truck himself getting back to his mate.”

He whispers, “…I wouldn’t count on him not to do that today, either.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Shiu amends. Looking at the huffing n’ puffing Toji inside the trailer, arms crossed. “Just that he’s a romantic.”

“That he is.” Kusakabe tips his hat and waves himself off. “Alright- midnight, yeah?”

“Like I said- take your time.” He says, eagerly- perhaps a little too eagerly.

The other man gets into the truck and slams the door shut - the force causes that hunk of rusted metal to wobble and creak, like an old man’s laugh. Shiu gets the sense that the entire world seemed to be laughing at him at that moment—including his best friend. Was he really that obvious? 

Shiu walks up to Kusakabe’s window and leans against it. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Oh- nothing.” Kusakabe has the audacity to wipe off a mirthful tear. “Just that it reminds me of back then. Bet you’re really happy to have some alone time with your pretty girl, huh?”

“You say that like it’s been ages since Toji’s been here.” Shiu scoffs. “She’s known me longer- probably still likes me better too. You know she only lets me-”

“-milk her.” Kusakabe interrupts. Amusement on his features at the familiar words, “Yeah yeah. You’ve said it once before, man. Or maybe twice. Thrice. Fifteen times-”

“Whatever, man.”

Shiu kicks off the side of Kusakabe’s truck and gives it a customary slap on the bonnet. 

“Drive safe. Even if you get stranded this time, I’m not coming to pick you up.”

“What a friend.” Kusakabe starts pulling the truck ahead and calls out as he goes. “Take care of the pretty girl when her mate’s not around~”

“You know I will.”

And as he watches the truck pull away with Toji inside the trailer—the bull hybrid lets out a mournful sound. It’s as Shiu feels a soft head rest against him that he realizes you’d joined him in the farewell; longingly watching your mate be hauled off. 

“It’s just for the convention, pretty girl.” Shiu mutters to you. He reaches to scratch behind your hybrid ears but- the faint heat radiating off you makes him pause. “Is…it just me or has your fever gotten worse?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You murmur thickly. You push deeper against his body and Shiu’s suddenly hit with a lingering scent of dairy and fresh flowers, presumably from last night.

“If this gets any worse then we might have to pay a visit to Dr. Shoko…”

Fervently, you’re shaking your head. 

Although you liked the cool and composed otter hybrid, Dr. Shoko, actually visiting the doctor was another thing. And so Shiu let it slide - for now - as he advised you to stay out of the sunlight and get some more rest—he’ll bring some cool drinks over after he’s done tending to the horse hybrids’ hair.

Shiu watches as you totter off into the barn house once more.

He’ll have to keep a close eye on you…

.

.

.

3:18PM

The farmdog hybrids were particularly energetic today - Shiu spent just about two hours straight neglecting his tractor maintenance to throw frisbees with them. Ah, to hell with that old thing. Maybe next time he’ll accompany Kusakabe to those Tokyo conventions and see if they have discounts on tractors. 

Although he knows he shouldn’t have been so careless - but you can’t blame a farmer for letting loose! Especially not when - usually - whenever he did this sort of thing—it’d only end up with Fushiguro Toji trampling all over the frisbee for the sake of it.

Especially not when it’s exactly what got him to notice the state of you in the first place.

Shiu had thrown the frisbee too far. It had landed somewhere by the pond, and Shiu didn’t want Ino getting his coat all muddied again- so he told the canine hybrid to stay put as he himself trudged through all the vegetation and too-soft earth. Ah…remind him to unweed this mess sometime soon. Spike rushes stuck to his boots, and water lilies waded towards him as the farmer determinedly made his way to the frisbee. 

Just bending down to get it when-

Letting out softly—“Oh.”

When Shiu spots your curled-up self on the side of the pond bank—all cocooned amongst the lush vegetation like a little treasure just for him. He tries to shake that thought out of his mind.

You startle awake once he steps on a twig attempting to get nearer to the frisbee- “Easy there.” His deep tone soothes you. “Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” You’re following the voice and settling down once you recognize him. “What’re you doing here, pretty girl?” 

“Just resting.” You respond. Now that you were sure there wasn’t any danger, you’re settling back down into your comfortable position. “The water helps keep me cool, y’know?”

“That pesky fever’s still bothering you?” Shiu reaches down to measure the temperature on your forehead - and sure as day, he’s feeling the heat simmering. If he wasn’t mistaken—it was just a tad hotter than what he remembered it to be when saying goodbye to Toji. “Hm…it doesn’t seem to be getting better on its own. How about a visit to Shoko’s?”

“Shiu…” You whine.

“Now now, missy.” He tuts. “I need you to be healthy- not only would Toji kill me otherwise, but I wouldn’t forgive myself either.”

“I’m feeling fine…really. It’s just a little hot.” You insist. “Today’s been really hot- I promise m’gonna feel better once the sun goes down.”

“Hmmm. Alright.” Though Shiu still didn’t seem all that convinced. “But you won’t cool off with water just by looking at it.” 

“What do you-”

But those words are getting stuffed back into your throat once Shiu takes a little run-up and throws himself into the pond. Creating a resounding splash! and sending a wave of water into the air—like translucent sun-glittered frogs that take a soaring leap and land on you. 

You’re yelping as the cool water lands on you- “Shiu—! You little-”

And then jumping in after him.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, joyous laugh. And if he smelled the soft fragrance of honey suckle and fresh cream…then he imagines some of the other cow hybrids are ready for milking again.

.

.

.

6:21PM

Shiu wasn’t celebrating—honestly.

Even he wasn’t that tactless.

It’s just that it was a little quiet without Fushiguro Toji around to cause trouble with the other hybrids, or with any guests, or with Shiu…or with practically anyone that wasn’t you. He wondered whether you realized the sheer extent of his special treatment. Which was why he decided to spoil the lot of you - especially you - today.

And for this Shiu’s apples were amongst the most famed in these parts - he hears they went for thousands of yen each in Tokyo. Lush and luxurious. Like biting into a piece of heaven—he knew that the hybrids were particularly covetous of this rare luxury. And luckily for him, they’d just been harvested today. 

So why not give you lot a little treat?

Those stingy middle-men would be here to load up the apples tomorrow morning; so before that he herded his hybrids to the picturesque orchard. Where the apple trees embraced the groves from either side, the tops of their branches nearly winding into the sunset-painted clouds and pulled them back, and beneath them lay crates upon crates of apples like treasure pots at the ends of rainbows. Those apples seemed to gleam even brighter as the sun dipped beneath the horizon; gilded. 

And Shiu kept his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face, as he watched over the hybrids picking apples and digging through crates. All except for…

“Where’s…”

Brows furrowed- Shiu turns around and spots you slumped against the wooden entrance to the orchard. Those towering pillars were intertwined with vines, and amongst them you looked like the prettiest rose. 

“Something wrong, my girl?” He walks towards you, handsome features pinched in concern. Immediately, Shiu’s hand goes up to feel your temperature once more. “Fuck-” And almost as soon as it makes contact with your forehead, he’s pulling away—

“Shiu…”

“You’re burning up- pretty girl, why didn’t you tell me that it’d become this bad?” He hisses. And then he’s reaching down to gently clasp your hand. Those caramel-brown eyes of his are just so soft…“C’mon- lets get you to Shoko’s before she’s off—”

Yet oh-so-stubbornly you’re shaking your head. “Promise m’okay, Shiu.”

“But-”

“It’s not a fever.” And the hairs on his body stand on end at those words. If not a fever, could this be…“I think it must be the heat or something- that and Toji did wear me out a little last night.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sure. But I still think it would be good to go for a check-up.”

You’re averting your gaze from his. “I’m alright. Trust me.”

And though Shiu was clearly displeased by this turn of events—how could he ever say no to his favorite girl? It was almost embarrassing how easily he’s bending to your will- and letting out a sigh he attempts to make sound annoyed rather than fond. “Oh, alright…but at least try one of the apples. I’m sure they’d be good for you.”

“Of course-” Then you take a step - and the faint dizziness that’d accompanied your fever makes you nearly fall into Shiu’s chest. Thankfully the farmer catches you easily with his scarred palms darting to your waist, his broad arms wrapping around your body- and the tips of his fingers graze where your tail starts.

And both of your breaths hitch-

“Hey boss- can we dig into the pears too or are those off limits?” Ino’s blissfully oblivious tone shatters whatever strange atmosphere had seemed to concentrate between you two.

And you both jump backwards as if electrocuted.

“The uh- the what-” Shiu whirls around at the farm dog hybrid, “Not a chance. Don’t even think about touching those.”

“…Oops.”

“Those are ¥5000 a pear-” He pinches his nosebridge and groans- as his most trusted dog hybrid scampers off with an armful of pears. As he does so, Ino’s dropping one on the grass that Shiu’s bending down to pick up. Wiping off the non-existent dust on his denim overall, Shiu pulls a pocket knife out and cuts a clean slice of pear in mere seconds.

Calm and controlled.

Somehow, just seeing how competent he was with it made something at the pit of your stomach- twinge.

Before you know it, Shiu’s holding the tempting slice out to you. “Eat.” When you look at him in hesitation, he chuckles handsomely. “They’re about to raid the pears anyway, so you might as well eat.”

And so you do - he watches every minute expression of yours as you bite into it. That glimmer in your eyes. That smile.

Fuck…

Chomping on the luxurious fruit, you’re soon raising your nose into the air and sniffing.

Shiu raises a brow, “Something wrong? It’s not rotten, is it?”

You shake your head and continue sniffing. “No, it’s just…” Your ears twitch towards him- and he finds it so cute how they move almost all on their own. “Something smells good.”

“The pear?” 

“No.” Shaking your head once more—the way you look at him then is just…different. “Like apples. And caramel. And honeysuckle.”

Shiu scratches behind his neck. “Well, I don’t know about the caramel- but we are in an apple orchard.” Gesturing at the sprawling land. “Help yourself.”

You smile and rub yourself against him lightly, soon joining your friends.

This was proving to be quite the strange day- fuck, were you getting hotter?

.

.

.

11:59PM

“I should have taken you to Shoko’s in the morning—”

This is all Shiu’s fault.

This is all Shiu’s fault.

But to understand just how badly he’d messed up, one would have to rewind the clock to about two minutes and twenty seconds ago; it’d been a long day at the farm. Exhaustibly so. Even more so than usual, Shiu was dead-tired—it was practically subconscious the way in which he’d scrubbed himself clean and slipped into his favorite pair of pajamas (the ones with the cows and barns on them). 

And he’d just - just - sat himself down on the creaky sofa in front of the TV, to get in at least five minutes of his favorite cheesy soap operas before he zonked out before it…when the front door started rattling.

Wait…rattling?

Knocking.

Shiu sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heaved himself to a stand- “Yeah, yeah m’coming…don’t break the damn door down.” He’d at least expected Kusakabe to give him a call before he returned and started trying to leave him doorless- but ah. 

Shiu was grumbling a few choice words underneath his breath as he swung the front door and screen open. Only to be met with—

“Pretty girl?” In split-seconds, every ounce of sleepiness leaves Shiu as he darts to hold your faintish body. Your head was drooped, and your breaths were coming out rapid. You were supported by only some of the other cow hybrids. Immediately his hand is flying to your waist, and he’s throwing one of your arms around his shoulders- before giving up on any inhibitions and pulling you into a proper princess carry.

A worried Ino and the others trailed after. “The cow hybrids let me know that there was something wrong, boss. So I brought her here.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Shiu just barely has the thought to murmur. He hurries to sprawl you out across where you would be most comfortable: his bed. “We need to contact Dr. Shoko immediately.”

“It’s not her time of heat yet, right?” Ino asks from the doorway. Behind him were some of the other members of the barn house looking in concern.

“No.” Shiu shakes his head. He glances up and sees the commotion- “It might be a fever, or maybe it was too hot out? I don’t know—fuck, I should’ve just taken her in the morning when she first told me.”

“Should I get the truck ready now, boss?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to move her much right now- poor thing.” Shiu looks on sadly at the way you’re gripping his soft pillows and smushing them to your face—breathing them in. “I’ll call Shoko and see if there’s anything we can do from here-” Reaching over to his bedside cabinet and picking up the phone, “You guys get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“You’ve got it.” Ino nods- and then he’s herding the rest of the barn outside. 

In this little bubble of his bedroom, this little nook of the farm which smelled like fresh cream and honeysuckle, and had the air of sluggish mornings that made one’s eyes droop; it was just you and Shiu and the ringing tone of Shoko’s clinic.

Ringing once.

Ringing twice.

It cuts and Shiu’s trying Shoko’s personal number this time. She picks up almost instantly- “Hello?”

“I’m not going to ask about the integrity of your sleep schedule, but I need your help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

And as Shiu lists off your symptoms - the clamminess, the rapid heartbeat, the puffs of pheromones now filling up his bedroom, and more importantly…the wetness between your thighs (he wasn’t a lecher- he promises, it just-so-happened that Dr. Shoko had asked him to double check as part of your symptoms) - he himself starts to get an understanding of your diagnosis. You were in heat. But-

“But wasn’t her heat just two weeks ago?” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line as Shiu realizes Shoko must’ve gone through your file at home. “And she isn’t known for having any irregular heats.”

“Could this possibly be triggered by something external?” Shiu asks.

“It is possible.” She answers. “Have there been any changes to her environment? Something that may trigger a stress response in her?”

“Well, just today I had Toji go out with my friend to a convention- could it possibly be the distance?” He suddenly feels a drop of guilt at possibly being connected to why you feel this way.

“Hmm, I don’t believe so. Mating bonds are of the nature to be most volatile in close distances, rather than when they’re apart.” She hums thoughtfully. “You said that her mate was away today, right? And this started just today? Have there been any…other changes?”

Shiu raises a brow. “Other?”

And he can’t see her, but he gets the feeling that had they been in her office- then Shoko would have her fingers crossed and a grave expression on her face. “Yes. Has she been close with any other hybrid on the farm? Perhaps nuzzling up to them? Perhaps giving off her scent?”

The tips of Shiu’s fingers, clutching the phone, feel utterly numb. “…Yes.” Him.

“Well then. I believe the matter is quite simple, Mr. Shiu.” Tell him. “It is a strange phenomenon in which the hybrid seems to have two mates.”

“…” He can’t quite seem to close his mouth. “What?”

“Precisely.” Shoko speaks as if merely commenting on the nice weather or a particularly good football goal.

“B-but—” Shiu clutches the phone and tries to keep his volume from rising so as not to awaken you - you’d fallen asleep wrapped in his sheets now. Nose stuffed into the fabrics coated with his natural musk. “I thought hybrids mated for life? With only one-”

“Most often, yes. But there are rare cases in which a hybrid might find themselves connected to two others, or even three. Sometimes these connections may be latent and only make themselves known when triggered by a heat or time apart from her original mate.” His jaw just keeps dropping. “And it seems that in your cow hybrid’s case, in the absence of one mate she found her second mate’s connection activated. This is likely what caused her to go into heat.”

“So it’s official-” He begs. “She’s in heat now-”

“Yes, and I suggest you just let her do what needs to be done with her second mate in order to get it out of her system, otherwise she may feel rejected.”

And it seems that the conversation was coming to a close- for there was a note of epiphany in her words. But before Shoko could end the call, he questions once more. “And about the…double mate thing- does that also mean that the second mate is mated to the original mate?”

There’s a pause.

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Mr. Shiu.”

Wait how did she—

And then she ends the call.

Shiu holds numbly onto the phone for a few seconds - the silence felt deafening. Before a sudden stirring makes him dart his eyes over towards you. 

Like an angel.

Your face was half-pushed into one of Shiu’s pillows - also patterned with cows and barns - and that blanket of his had twisted ‘round your body like a snake now—clammy with your sweat. Your fingers were clawing at the old creaky mattress, and your knees were pushing higher, and between them were- oh.

Were another one of his pillows.

And fuck- he’s never felt more jealous of an inanimate object in his entire life.

You were reeling your hips back—thrusting them forwards again- grinding down on the pillow. Wetness was seeping between those pretty, shiverin’ legs of yours and staining the cover. From here he could see a dark splotch starting to stain the silken fabric - smelling like the sweetest honey scent.

And it makes his mouth water.

“Baby- baby…” Shiu lovingly pats your leg, dawning you completely awake. He could see now that you were in the throes of your heat - but those eyes of yours were completely alert. “I need you to get comfortable, okay? This is gonna last about a week.”

“I’m in heat?” You blink. “Dr. Shoko said you’re my mate, Shiu.”

“So you heard that, huh?” He lightly chuckles. “Just know that we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Heats don’t necessarily affect humans-”

“Then why’re you so hard?” Though that tone of yours was utterly innocent - the look in your eyes wasn’t. You knew what you were doing to him—and you’re only hiking up the temperature between the two of you as you’re leaning in. 

On wobbly arms, you’re pushing yourself up n’ leaning in so close-

Oh, how he’s dreamed of this exact scenario so many nights before. In this very bed. With his hand wrapped around his cock.

And Shiu knows he’s talking out of his ass - it’s the inhibitions taking over now…“You’ve got me there- but what about Toji-”

“Isn’t he your mate, too?”

And then your lips are on his.

.

.

.

Fushiguro Toji feels a disturbance in the force.

He can’t quite explain it- it’s nothing that he’s seen or even something that he’s felt. Nothing tangible to give reason to this madness. It’s just that something was…off. Kusakabe notices the hybrid squirming in his seat - yes, it seems that he trusted the bull hybrid enough to let him ride shotgun - and turns on the radio.

Just Toji’s luck, it was Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra.

“Turn it off.” Toji scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Why? Remind you of a certain someone~?” Kusakabe asks in-between singing at the top of his lungs.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

And even though Toji is merely looking at the smaller man- he shrinks into his seat. Did he mention he’d sharpened his horns for today? Kusakabe whimper, “O-oh nothing…nothing, just that ah- the lyrics might be a little reminiscent of ah-”

And Toji was even more infuriated because of that nagging sensation- that strange…fuck. “Spit it out.”

Kusakabe lets out a squeal and looks as though he utterly regretted letting the hybrid sit next to him. “J-just the fact that Shiu mayormaynothaveacrushonyourmate—” It’s out before Toji could even register it. “Pleasedon’tkillme-”

“If I kill you who’s driving?” Toji had now unbuckled his seatbelt despite Kusakabe’s protests. Snooping around the truck and trying to trace that little- scent? “What is that infernal- fuck. And I already know that farmer’s got a thing for her - though I’d pay for him to actually try. Would love to see his face as she rejects him.”

“Really? Because she was looking all cute and cuddly and a little feverish this morning.”

“What.”

And then it hits him—that scent. Fresh cream and sunny days and honey-

You were in heat.

“Fucker, step on it.”

Kusakabe whirls towards him. “What-” But before he can finish, Toji’s grabbing onto the steering wheel and damn-near crashing them on the highway as he speeds ahead.

The radio trills: ‘I can’t believe he’s so trustin’.

While I’m right behind you thrusting.’

.

.

.

“Mmm—” Shiu’s lips are hot and persistent- letting off the most sensual mwahs! as he continues the pattern down the side of your neck.

Listen, Shiu Kong might not be a hybrid like you, but if he kept his nose pressed against your sultry skin then he could almost feel it—those pheromones. 

It was wafting off your skin like an atmosphere that was entirely your own, a gravitational pull constantly tugging him closer; the sweetened scent of honey and freshly-whipped cream. It made him blush. It went straight down to his cock.

Fuck that- it was taking over him.

A guttural groan rips out of Shiu’s chest- he kisses a pathway down the middle of your body until he’s reaching your core. Once he does, he gives the hottest wettest kiss of all to your cunt—“Oh, baby. Lean back a bit f’me, yeah?”

And then he’s pressing an open palm on top of your stomach. Pressing you to recline on the bed.

“Good girl.” Shiu rumbles. Low. “Now squeeze those pretty legs around my head- yeah, just like that. Tighter.”

“Tighter than that n’ you’ll suffocate.” You gasp.

“What about it?”

Using his own strong arms - so fucking beefy from years of work at the farm - Shiu wraps your thighs around his sweaty head. His sharp, straight hair tickles your inner thighs; so much so that the farmer has to tell you to settle down. “Easy there- eeeeasy there, girlie. I’ll make you feel good during your heat.”

“I’m not a damn horse.” You huff.

“Yeah, because you’re gonna be the one riding, huh?”

The gasp that flutters its way up to your throat doesn’t get the chance to escape- because the question on Shiu’s tongue curls around your cunt. He’s letting the squashy end of his tongue dip between your swollen pussylips—giving you a loooong lick where you were most tender. Those cushiony tastebuds of his were massaging you already- and the way he’s twisting his tongue so deliciously as he enters—

“Oh.” You’re arching off the mattress, thighs plastering to the side of his face. And yet your pussy’s openin’ up for him so invitingly. “Keep going, Shiu…”

“Had no plans of stopping soon.” Gurgling wetly between your legs.

His tongue was just so soft and smooth.

The way he’s adjusting it in and out makes your mouth just water. In and out. In and out. Shiu notices that every time he hooked his tongue around the outer rim of your entrance made your pheromones surge. Fuck—that heat of yours was affecting him, too, and leaving him sippin’ on your pussy like an aphrodisiac.

Lavish lips plastering aaaaall over again and again- “Mmmm, my pretty cow hybrid. No idea how I lasted this long without this.” Breathing through his nose - he didn’t want to waste a single second of this. His usually-deep timbre shakes with pleading desire. “And what can this do?”

You’re squealing once you feel thick fingers curl around your tail. “That’s my tail…”

“I already know that, pretty girl.” Shiu shakes his head fondly - as though you’d been the one to say something ridiculous. And in-between lapping away at your leaking pussy, he tugs softly on your tail in order to bring you closer. “But what can it do-”

“Well she likes getting it pulled during doggy position.” 

Both of you would have recognized that voice amongst a thousand bull hybrids - ten thousand. That stature. That scent of freshly-cut grass and something deeper…something more alluring.

“And sometimes if you bite it she starts clenching like crazy.” 

Fuck.

Because neither of you had heard the door click open - except maybe in what felt like a distant dream. Something worlds away.

You’re feeling a sense of déjà vu. 

Shiu’s feeling cold sweat breaking out as he realizes that he hadn’t actually locked the door. In fact. 

Whoever had opened it must be gripping it so hard that its oak frame was starting to splinter-

Both of you experience a pang at the pit of your stomach- a draw. And Shiu gapes as he looks down at himself—what the fuck was that…? He’s looking up at Fushiguro Toji standing in the doorframe with the same shocked expression.

“The hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Toji spits, scarred lips twisted.

“Listen, man-”

“You’re not going to make her cum eating her out like that.”

“I…what?”

Toji manages to make Shiu shut up. This must surely be a dream? And it’s just about enough time for the other man to cross the distance between the door and the bed - kicking it shut behind him - and make himself quite at home on the bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of the hybrid; and you yourself are letting out a soft moan. 

He sits beside where you were sprawled-out, facing Shiu.

“You see…my pretty girl here-”

Shiu mutters underneath this breath. “Fuckin’ stealing my pet name too, now?”

But Toji has the courtesy to ignore it - for now. “-has a certain set of rules she needs to follow.” 

At this, the other man’s brows raise in interest. Satisfied at the attention; Toji himself traces his dominant right hand over your stomach, your hips, before lowering down to your cunt and holding those puffy pussylips of yours open. Pushing them apart. Pryin’ them apart. 

Both men gulp at the way you’re clenching around nothing.

“See…she might look all innocent and sweet- but she’s a proper little slut.” The words almost make Shiu flinch - and the bull hybrid takes great care repeating them. “Your…pretty girl is a proper- little- slut. And I know that she likes being fucked like one.”

And before either of you can make a move - Toji’s swiftly craning his head down and spitting a great glob of saliva on your cunt.

It trickles over your exterior and smears along your inner thighs- and Toji takes his sweet, sweet relish in swipin’ off some of that excess and popping it into his mouth. “So?” Toji asks. “Eat her out.”

Eat…Toji’s own mate out? Like this?

“What?” Toji has the audacity to look shocked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing her- don’t act like you haven’t been fantasizing it. You’ve wanted her even before I arrived at this damn farm.”

Shiu’s lips tremble- he almost wants to because hell, he’s been given the permission now. And yet…“Is this some sort of trick? You’re not gonna use those horns on me afterward, are you?”

“No, not at all.” The other man replies - almost too breezily. He raises his brows at Shiu expectantly. And stares deep into Shiu’s eyes as he says. “So? The fuck are you waiting for-”

Those mere words make Shiu’s cock stand painfully erect.

However, there’s a reason they claimed that Fushiguro Toji was a ruthless man. 

Because humans always did move far too slowly for the bull hybrid’s liking. And he wastes not a second more before pawin’ at the back of Shiu’s sweaty scalp - taking just a moment to bask in the utter shock upon his features - and shoving—

Straight between your pretty, pretty thighs.

Which he honestly didn’t have to do because—well fuck, you didn’t have to ask Shiu twice to eat you out. Shiu lets out a strangled grunt that turns into a moan. 

And without further ado, he’s back latched onto your pussy- those handsome cheeks of his hollowing out as he sucks n’ sucks. And you don’t know whether he was doing this for you or himself. 

Shiu ate you out like he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t.

“Fuck-” He hisses. With every movement of his face, he nuzzles himself closer. “Fuck fuck fuck—more.”

Syrupy breath sticking against your pussylips. 

And his tongue was even worse-

“My pretty girl. More.”

He’s slithering it aaaaaaaall along your outer cunt - lapping up every wad of slick you were gifting him - and then rubbing his textured tastebuds along your exterior when it just wasn’t enough. Because your cunt was practically an aphrodisiac for him.

It’s as if the heat was contagious.

Because the longer he’s spending between those gorgeous legs of yours - the more he’s blabbering like a damn fool. The murkier his eyes are growing. The harder and harder his hips are coming crashing—! down on the rickety wooden frame of the bed—pathetically dry-humping it in time with the thrashes of his tongue. Slipping right between your velvety folds and yearnin’ to taste the honey between.

That thick silkiness of his tongue was just dizzying.

He was cleaning up the mess that Toji’d made earlier—tasting him, tasting you. Shiu’s face grows warm as he remembers.

That dextrous tip of his tongue delves between your pussylips - entering that cute hole - and is lapping up everything you’re giving him. “Babydoll, fuck my mouth even deeper.” Needing more. “Even deeper.”

“F-fuck- shit, shit shit.” You’re trilling out. “You’re practically nose-deep. How can you possibly go any deeper?”

With a needy whimper, you’re letting your hybrid tail swish towards him - and without further ado Shiu takes it and wraps his fist around it. Giving a gentle tug. Fuck.

And when he actually discovers that he’s able to manhandle you further onto his mouth with that tail of yours- nothing’s stopping Shiu from increasing his strength to give you a mean haul. “Mmm- yes- oh, Shiu. It feels so good, Shiu—!”

“But not good enough, right?” Toji speaks over you, in a haughty tone.

Your hybrid ears twitch in confusion.

And before you know it, you’re feeling the sensation of Shiu’s slithering tongue disappear. 

You whine out in disappointment. And you already know that that mate of yours must have something to do with it-

Sure as day; Toji has his fist gripping Shiu’s jet-black hair and reeling him back. The other man obviously had his face twisted into something ferocious, and the tension made the atmosphere pinch. But underneath that…there was an undercurrent of sweetness…the mottling of Toji’s gleeful pheromones mixing with his lustful ones.

And Shiu’s, too.

And if you weren’t mistaken- was that a faint blush on the tips of his ears?

It seems that Toji notices, too. “See anything to blush about here?” Then his eyes dip down to you. “Oh…right. Heh.” Leaning in oh-so-closely to the other man; Toji whispers in a gravelly tone into his ear. “But if you stand around blushing and bein’ a wuss for too long, then just know that she’s not gonna wait. She’s gonna dry up~”

He spits once more.

So disrespectful.

And then turns down to Shiu and warns. “Don’t eat her out just yet. Rule number one…” Your heartbeat races as he speaks those familiar words - Fushiguro Toji never was one to care for rules…unless it was in bed. “No running.”

“I’d never run from this pussy.” Shiu frowns.

“Not you, nitwit.” Mercilessly, he’s planting a smack at the back of the farmer’s head. “Her. Don’t let her run.”

Seemingly getting the green light to start up his sensual ministrations again- Shiu slowly starts lapping between your pussylips once more. Proddin’ his thickened tip into the deep orifice of your cunt. “B-but she’s not-”

“Look.” Toji interrupts. Just as you were starting to buck and lift your hips off the sodden mattress. “Look at the way she’s moving ‘round.”

“But that’s just-”

“But this pretty cow hybrid is in heat—and you can’t just leave her uncomfortable like this, can you?” Those dazed eyes of Shiu Kong’s open wider. He faintly nods. “So aren’t you the farmer?”

He nods again - looking as though he was about to faint.

“So herd your damn cow hybrids- c’mon- don’t let her run—” Spurred on even further by his words, Shiu’s plunging back in-between your legs and usin’ his tongue for his life.

Opening his mouth wiiiiiide to make sure that he’s able to reach every nook and cranny—the end of his tongue was just so dexterous and somehow managing to slip into spots you hadn’t even known you had. “O-ohhhh, fuuuuck-” Moans just keep bubbling out of your lips. “It feels so good, Shiu-”

And just when it looked as if you were about to buck—Shiu grabs ahold of your hips- so hard that he leaves neat semi-crescent nail marks on your skin. Plopping you back down onto the bed.

Plopping you back down onto his face.

From then onwards, he doesn’t let you move a single inch as he’s thrashin’ away his fat tongue inside your cunt. Stretching that pussy out to his textured tastebuds. 

And Toji had been watching the entire display closely…very closely. With his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Good.” His head threatens to tip backwards as he gives a harsh tug on his thickened length. “And now rule number two: squeeze those gorgeous legs around your head. Doesn’t matter if you suffocate.”

“That- that’s what I said—” Shiu keens.

“Then why’re you speaking?”

Goosebumps run down Shiu’s arched spine. “Oh…”

“A cunt like hers isn’t to be taken for granted.” Toji tuts from above you, and you can’t help but ogle the way his biceps bulge as he pushes down Shiu’s head. “Deeper.” Harder. “Deeper. Don’t waste time talking. Don’t waste time gawking like an idiot. In fact-”

His heated words make goosebumps scatter across your open thighs.

And you whimper-

“-don’t even breathe.”

They’re both driving you absolutely mad—

Toji catches your left ear between his fingers- as it’s been swatting furiously away the more aroused you grew. So soft beneath his touch.

He uses it to urge your mouth down to where his lap was.

“Rule number three…let her fuck back into you- but only if she really…really deserves it.”

“Make the pretty girl work for it?” Shiu looks up.

Toji displays a priggish smirk. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

And you don’t know what sort of expression Shiu might have on his handsome face right now - he was much too…preoccupied for that - but you can sense him nod. Short and sharp. As he keeps on lavishin’ your insides with his tongue; the farmer makes note of just how hard you’re clenching around him. “C’mon, pretty girl—” He pushes down your bucking hips. “Clench a little harder ‘round my tongue, would ya?”

“O-oh, now you’re just mean.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Toji chuckles. “Don’t think I can’t smell your pheromones gettin’ even sweeter- you’re loving this.”

You have no counter accusation - it was, after all, painfully true. And then Toji caresses your sweaty scalp with his thick digits—grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. “Now…lets see if you can be a good girl for me, too.”

An acrid sort of sweetness floods your mouth - because in mere sultry moments Toji has his legs positioned so that they’re practically straddling your face. On the mattress; he’s kneeling to the side of your head and letting his pursed, pinkened cocktip swab across your lips.

He’s rock-hard.

Instantly your jaw’s falling open to accommodate him.

And believe- that there was a lot to be accommodating. For Toji was so many countless inches, thick and decorated in a prominent network of veins across every inch of him. They zigzagged across each of his angles n’ ended up being the most prominent where your sweet spots were—Toji meant it when he said he was made for you.

He had a scruff of jet-black happy trail. He was an angry red at his tip. He was dripping precum.

It puckered out from the divot on top of his shaft—then ended up smeeeeared down the insides of your soft mouth. “Fuuuuck…” Toji himself whispers as he eases in. The bedsprings purr as Shiu bucks against the bed harder.

And before you know it, he’s reaching upwards and biting down on your throbbing clit. “Don’t forget about me, pretty girl. You’re not getting off easy. Rule number three, remember?”

“I—oh.” Shiu’s putting his fingers in now - fingers. Two of them. Long and perfectly calloused from years of hard labor to now massage your tender insides.

Both men are manhandling you oh-so-perfectly: Shiu dragging you down by your tail- and Toji using both hands to maneuver your head down. Letting you take up numerous inches of him. Thick and throbbing.

That rounded end of his shaft hits the back of your throat and you’re immediately coughing-

“Easy there.” Toji lovingly croons…“Not.” And you didn’t expect mercy, did you? Soon enough both of them are running their bodies ragged trying to draw out the most reactions from you—Toji fucking his cock into your suckling mouth, and Shiu hooking a finger not against the roof of your cunt to press on your nerve-filled spots- to make you clench. “C’mon- milk me. You can do better.”

“C’mon, little cow hybrid.” Shiu titters. His digits prove so effective in stretchin’ out your insides even more so than his tongue—and those tastebuds of his remain tickling your clit. “Won’t you squeeze me a little harder?”

“She can’t answer.” Toji laughs. “Got her mouth a little full.”

“Bull got her tongue.”

“Mmmm…” With that said, Toji’s flooding your tastebuds with a thick lacquer of his precum. He increases his pace a little more.

“Just a little harder-” Meanwhilst, Shiu whispers to himself as he keeps probing your sweet, sweet insides. “Just a little- a little—” And at precisely that moment; he’s hitting the bullseye. What else but the place marked X: your g-spot? “O-oh.” 

He damn near cums in his pants.

“Just like that.” Shiu continues. “Fuck back into my fingers. I know you can, girlie.”

“Accomplished rule number three already?” Toji asks the other man. “Yer nicer than me- I know that for sure.”

“What can I say? She’s my favorite.”

After a few more thrusts n’ bucks n’ smashes at your favorite spot - you don’t think you can even formulate a coherent thought. You’re being tugged back and forth by both men—and they aren’t showing any signs of slowing down soon enough. “The fourth and fifth rules are a little alike…” Toji rumbles from above you. “The fourth, of course, is to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Shiu asks. Though by the way he feels the heat in the room - your pheromones - flare up, he’s sure you’re anticipating whatever it is.

“And the fifth is to…” The end of that sentence teeters on the edge of Toji’s tongue as he reels his hips back, back, back, baaaaack- “-take it all like a good girl.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Letting the entire length of Toji’s cock fill your mouth from tip to base- his fleshy cockhead searches your insides like a flashlight. It’s almost too pornographic the way you’re choking on his length—gagging, eyes watering. 

To which of course, your beloved mate reaches down to pinch your nostrils closed. “Now now…are you the one in heat or am I?”

“Mmmpf- mmm—” You keen. Moans bubbling from the back of your throat but having no way out.

“Oi- I think she’s close.” Shiu breathes.

He could taste it in the sweet treacly syrup leaking out of you - his favorite. He could taste it in the way your cunt walls were pounding faster than ever. He could fucking smell it in those pheromones of yours that just seemed to flare to life-

“S’that so?” Toji asks. “And that brings me to our sixth and final rule: if she wants something, then she can use her words to ask for it.”

“Hardass.” Shiu scoffs.

But they’re both increasing their pace. For competition or simply to drive you mad?

The sloppiest squelches and pops! fill the room—and Shiu watches as your tail starts twitching agitatedly once the pleasure almost gets too much. Oh his pretty cow hybrid. Once you’re so close that you feel like you could burst- “Toji, she’s close—”

“Then ask for it.” Toji keeps shovelling his cock deeper. Deeper. “Fucking ask for it, doll.”

“Toji-”

Slamming into your throat with a final thwack! His balls were damn near leaving an imprint on your chin. “You can ask the farmer to help you with your heat- but you can’t ask me to make you cum…?”

“She did.”

The tension in the room falters - but never bates - as Toji turns to look at the other man. “What?”

“She did-” Shiu hastens to explain. “Ask to cum, that is…” And as if to prove his point—he’s plummeting a few more pushes with his fingers, scissoring them inside you so that those slurping suctioning noises are extra loud. “-right here.”

Toji waits for a beat.

Before he lets out a little snicker.

Before he lets out an entire laugh-

“Maybe you’re not so bad- for you, that is.” And then he’s boring his forest fire gaze down at you. “Hear that? Yer damn lucky that you’re the farmer’s favorite—hah, better thank him.” Toji’s then tugging your ear to watch you squirm just a little.

He lets out a final few thrusts.

And waits until his cock was embedded deeeep into the back of your throat - and your nose was pressed against those tufts of black at his base. Until you were well and fully stuffed full of him. 

“So cum then, my pretty mate.”

And with a few more thorough slashes inside you—knockin’ Shiu’s burly fingers into your sweetest spots, slithering Toji’s length down every crevice of your mouth, you’re crashing into your high. 

It’s quick and searing.

It takes over your body faster than you can register. Burning through every other thought and feeling - you’re letting out erotic moans around Toji’s cock, and they keep getting louder as it keeps prolonging. Longer and longer. The more they’re toyin’ with your throbbing, sopping cunt. 

Those fervent peaks seem to get stronger - and within you feels practically white-hot in sensation. Pulling off of his bulbous tip. “Sh-shiiiiiit—” Keening out. “It feels so good- it feels so good-”

“You’re welcome.” Toji says. Shovelling his pinkish tip back between those lips.

At the same time that Shiu’s panting. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Of course, as your mates they’re practically bound to listen to your every syllable.

And you don’t feel them rest - even take a breath - until your orgasm was well and almost completely disappeared from the horizon.

Tears of overstimulation were now springing to your eyes. Thighs twitching with the faintest splinters of sensitivity. “F-fuck…” Toji’s throbbing tip falls from your lips. It leaves a thin ribbon of slick connecting you to him still. You’re blabbering. “Fuck, I’m getting sensitive now.”

“Hm…Shiu climb up.” Toji says.

Both you and Shiu share a glance—and with something that looked like a half-shrug, Shiu’s attempting to heave himself up from the floor-

Only to be grabbed by Toji by the hand and yanked onto bed.

The farmer’s letting out a little yelp as he’s finding himself bounced onto the springy mattress - right on your other side. Sandwiched between the two buff, broad men- you don’t think you’ve ever felt your heart beat faster…ever smelled your pheromones so potently…

“Shiu, I need those off.” You huff. Batting those teary lashes of yours.

“Oh.” His face twists into something like ecstacy - how many times has he fantasized about those very words leaving your mouth?

And, flustered, the farmer starts unbuckling his overall one-by-one-

“We’re not trying to wait until her heat’s over.” Toji gruffs. And his veined forearm reaches across you - grasping onto the front of Shiu’s overall and giving it a good tug.

Those buckles are breaking free immediately. 

The bull hybrid smiles to himself proudly. “There.”

“I should have half the mind to return you to Kusakabe…” Shiu grumbles to himself, as he takes off the rest of his clothes. That sentence makes the faintest flicker of recognition light up in his brain - really, where was Kusakabe - but it’s evaporating soon enough once you start helping him take his boxers off. 

“I’m warning you in advance, however…” He starts.

“Why?”

“Yeah- are you hiding a 21-incher in there or something?” Toji scoffs.

“No no- it’s not that. I’m…above average- probably.” Shiu waves off, his burning blush creeping up onto his face again. “It’s just that I might have made…a little mess when I was eating you out.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by- oh.”

Oh, was right. Right indeed.

Because of course- Shiu was naturally an impressive size. About eight inches. With a much more tan tip than Toji’s - and perhaps even thicker, too - and a girth that made your mouth water. He was smoother than Toji—less veins ‘round his shaft except for a single prominent one that went around the left side. And he was curved ever-so-slightly upright, too. 

But what really caught your attention was…Shiu had cum in his pants.

Just from eating you out.

“Oh…” Your eyes widen as you take in the dark splotch at the front of his boxers. 

Thick ropey white cum had seeped into it- and Shiu’s hastily snatching those boxers out of your hands to throw them over his shoulder. His hands felt sticky. “But that’s neither here nor there-”

“Of course it is.” Toji says after a moment of contemplation. “I’m adding a seventh rule.” 

Yours and Shiu’s eyes pop open. 

“Shit.”

“Shit-”

“What?” The bull hybrid looks at you both in mock innocence. “I was just going to say that the guest goes first…”

It’s…unexpected. To say the least. But you weren’t complaining - and by the way that Shiu’s reddened length perks up at the idea, you don’t think he is either.

“Um, so how do I…”

Toji angles himself towards you- “Get up a little, doll?”

You arch your hips off the bed; and Toji’s taking the opportunity to sidle his own hips underneath them. He’s manhandling you so that you’re simply sprawled-out on his chiselled front—and oh, how your mouth waters at the sensation of his rippling pecs and abs. The way they’re massaging you from behind at even the slightest movements—was that his v-line? 

And did you mention that Toji just-so-happened to have the cutest ringed piercings through each nipple?

They’re pushing into you from behind once the hybrid hooks both hands underneath each of your legs. And he’s lifting them aaaaaaaall the way up until your knees hit your tits. Spreading you wide, wide open.

A full nelson.

Except…this time, it’s Shiu’s who’s going to be basking between your legs. 

The aforementioned man takes a courageous gulp as he shuffles on his knees between your legs - and Toji’s - to lovingly gaze at you. “Fuuuuuck, my pretty girl…you really are so gorgeous.” Shiu whispers- underneath his breath as though he didn’t even mean for you to hear.

His darkened eyes sweep down your body like a caress. “The way that pussy’s dripping so much- shit, s’like a flood down there. Can you even feel yourself?” You’re squirming at his lecherous words. “And those legs. Trembling. And the way you’re just throbbing- I can see it from here.”

You’re gasping as he presses his hot length down on your cunt. 

Sandwiched between each of your pussylips: Shiu doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. “You’re just so dirty, girlie~”

You shudder.

And Shiu could have kept going- it absolutely killed him to tear his gaze off of you. It really did.

But Shiu could sense Toji starting to get impatient if the slightly souring tint in his pheromones was anything to go by- hey, look at that…he’s reading pheromones now. Mentalling patting himself on the back; the farmer starts slide-slide-sliiiiiding his fattened-up cock between your precious folds. “Easy there, girl?”

“Yeah yeah- we’re easy.” Rolling his eyes, you’re getting jostled as the hybrid underneath bucks. And at this point, you’re honestly wondering which one of you was more excited for his entrance…“Just get on with it.”

“Unlike you, Toji, I don’t just- get on with it.” Shiu sounded offended at the mere suggestion. 

And as you both look towards him for further clarification, Shiu nervously bites down on the inside of his cheek and pushes his swollen cock down the slit of your cunt. “It’s just that…” He lets his particularly large tip kiss your hole. “-what if I end up hurting my pretty girl during her heat? I’d never forgive myself.”

“How cute.” Toji snickers. But there’s something that you recognize there—appreciation? “But not if you follow our rules, farmer boy. Remember those?”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah- recite those.” And you’re gasping once one of Toji’s meaty palms drift up to your face - covering your dazed peripherals. “We’re both going to take turns fucking her using those rules, and my mate’s going to guess which one of us it is—how about that?”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” You smile.

And seeing that gorgeous smile of yours - what else was he supposed to be but putty in your hands? Shiu’s giving himself a few pumps before starting to press into your tight rim.

You’re tight.

So fucking tight.

His brows furrow n’ sweat starts beading at his forehead as he slowly - sloooowly - starts easing his proud cock inside. You’re arching into Toji’s back, whilst Shiu probes into your deepest depths. “O-oh.”

It was something so different.

Although he wasn’t exactly as vein-covered as Toji was; Shiu’s length managed to have the perfect curve that prodded ‘round the roof of your cunt. Somehow directly aiming for those tender spots inside—you’re feeling the pointed end of his shaft draw sensual zig-zags inside and you’re immediately begging for more.

Of course, that’s when Toji’s silently signalling Shiu to pull out.

Replacing the farmer’s cock with his instead.

Thick. Throbbing. Those patterns and groves on his shaft were just dizzying- and Toji’s already rendered your eyes sprinting to the back of your head with but a mere few inches inside you. 

He’s making your first ring of muscle streeeeeetch- and pressing a second overlarge hand down on your stomach to keep you from movin’ around too much. And you don’t need to see him to reach blindly behind you and tug on Toji’s newest bull ring—

“Don’t be mean, Toji.”

“S’not being mean, it’s just the rules.” Toji argues. His words come out in sizzling pants against the side of your face - somehow just his presence seemed enough to make your heat symptoms two times worse. “Now that the practice run’s over…”

Your eyes are fluttering open- only to see nothing past the gaps of Toji’s thick fingers. “That was just the practice run—?” Your poor puckered hole was already pulsating with friction.

But neither of them are answering.

Instead, it just seems that they’re intent on fucking any question or comprehensible thought right back into you—because just you’re feeling a sudden intrusion deep into your core. The bulbous head of it swipes apart your puffy pussylips- and the next thing you know, you’re seeing nothing but stars at the neverending inches of one of their cocks.

Somehow managing to probe even deeper than the first time- whoever this was was so fatly swollen that his cockhead opens up plunging crevices inside you. Perhaps even new ones.

You’re gasping away- “Please.” Both men are impressively managing to keep quiet as they’re easing inside. Not completely bottoming-out…but enough to make your toes curl. “Oh, please that feels so good.”

Hips attempting to chase more- he was going so slow.

But just as soon as you do - almost the very instant that your hips are breaking contact with the skin of Toji’s toned pelvis - you feel one of his hands pin you back down. Preventing you from moving a single inch.

Your hybrid ears rustle with the huff of laughter from behind you—and you know that there’s only one man who’d keep a hand oh-so-possessively on top of your womb as he sinks into your soaking wet cunt. Rule number one, remember?

“Toji-” You’re sputtering out, voice breaking so prettily at the end of your plea. “T-Toji move a little faster- ngh, please—”

Yet another failed attempt at a buck. “Good job, doll.” He gnaws on your ear lobe. “But don’t think we’re done here just yet…”

And then before you know it, he’s pulling out. The action lets out the loudest, sloppiest little plop! of pleasure between your legs- and it feels as though firecrackers are going off through your veins.

You’re practically shaking once another intrusion starts proddin’ between your legs. This time a bit more…timid. A bit more hesitant. A bit more inexperienced and careful—and you don’t have to pay attention to anything more as Shiu creeps your legs around his waist.

Letting his tunneling cockhead push into that wet hole of yours.

Unlike Toji, however, Shiu Kong simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Oh…” It’s just about the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard - like music to your ears. But could you really blame the guy? “Legs- rules number t-two, remember?” This was the first proper taste of that syrupy cunt he’s getting—the exact same one he’s been dreaming of for ages…as much as that makes him sound like an utter pervert.

Maybe he was.

Maybe- what even was he? What was his name? Who was he?

Shiu can’t formulate a single thought.

Maybe he should be concerned about that…but for the time being, he’s collapsing his lower half into you. Funneling the smoother length of his cock inside; the farmer is the first of the two to actually bottom out. Thighs against your thighs. Forehead against your forehead. Cocktip against your cervix.

You swear you’re feeling Shiu intrude all the way up to your throat—“Shiu…keep moving, baby.”

“Oh- oh, you seriously want it?” He asks between uneven pants. And even more uneven are those semi-thrusts he’s poundin’ away at the back of your pussy—unwilling to break contact with your sopping womb for even a split-second to thrust back in. “You seriously want this ol’ farmer to fuck you like this? And that’s not just the heat talking-”

“It’s always the heat talking.” Toji scoffs. “This slutty girl’s always in heat. Honestly- who told you it could come early?”

“S’not my fault.” Shiu taps the side of your thigh to signal to you that- oh…you’re getting dangerously close to Toji figuring it out. 

Sure, it seems that he’d deduced by now that there was something regarding the startings of a mating bond between you and Shiu. And what sort of hybrid would come between that? But the fact that Toji himself shared it…

Thankfully in that moment Shiu’s creating a distraction - unintentional or not. Because just a few thrusts and he’s already starting to bead out hot, glutinous cum that sticks to the back of your pussy.

“Shit…” Shiu whispers to himself. You’re sensing one of his hands reach downwards to squeeze ‘round the base of his length—perhaps thinking that that would stop him. But the only thing Shiu’s managing to do is milk out a few more cobwebs of cum that are getting fucked and fucked in by his irregular thrusts. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Time’s up.” Toji cuts him off gruffly. “It’s getting too easy- hurry it up.”

“Yes…sir?” Fuck- he hates to admit it but the bull hybrid was correct.

Ah…you’d expected for the two to alternate between thrusts. But you just didn’t expect it this fast. Because all of a sudden, Toji’s going from merely caressing your front to wrapping his entire left arm around your middle. Oh, those beefy forearms of his were simply indescribable. 

Then Shiu’s reeling his sloppy, cum-glazed cock backwards for one of them to replace it in no time. 

Such plump inches of their shaft. Such impatient semi-thrusts as he leaves your mouth watering. He’s increasing his pace twofold once you’re accommodating him inside, and Toji’s pressing his palm deeper against your face. “Oh-” And you hadn’t expected them to stick to their damn six (or seven) rules so much, either…“Fuuuuuuck. Is it Toji?”

“Nope.” Shiu chuckles. From where he was positioned in front of you, the farmer leans down and kisses your lips. “Still me.”

In punishment, you’re getting a heavy spankin’ on your stuffed pussy.

“Shit.”

“And the rule-” Toji pipes up from behind. “What about the rule?”

“What about the rule, I mean—” It’s just then that you’re realizing - you haven’t been able to squirm a single inch since Shiu had begun swabbin’ your poor insides. “Rule number one- rule number one.”

“Good girl.” Toji laughs. “Next.”

And you’re soon coming to the realization that they weren’t going to make this easy for you: due to everything from their rapid alternations, to the way that both of them were fucking you so stupid—

“Toji-” You’re dragging your nails down whatever body part of Toji’s that you could reach. His biceps flexed underneath your touch. “And the rule is…oh, the rule is…” Brain landing on the closest one that you think you could remember. “Rule number six?”

“Half-correct.” Toji punishes you with yet another spank. The white-hot pain and pleasure that runs up your cunt is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “That was actually a trick round - no rule.”

You bite. “Silly me…”

“But half-correct deserves just a little bit of a treat, doesn’t it?” Shiu makes your case.

And the ever-mean Fushiguro Toji considers it for a few seconds - before he’s nodding and letting his fingers dip between your pussylips. Rolling over clit in circular motions. “Happy?”

“V-very much.” You respond.

And so the cycle repeats - as both men are fucking into you like damn animals.

“Shiu? Rule number one-”

Thwack! “Half-correct.”

“Toji? Rule number five.”

Thwack! “Half-correct again, doll.”

“Toji? Rule number six.”

Thwack! Thwack! “Wrong!”

“Shiu-”

“Toji-”

Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. 

Over and over again—until you’ve said every rule at least five times, and their names countless amounts so.

It was almost getting too much. There’s another switch; and this time the thrusts are like none before them. They were harsh. They were jagged. They weren’t hitting with any specific target or objective in mind—just with the sole purpose of indentin’ his fat cockhead into every spot inside you, and hitting his hips to yours until you skin was burning-

“Toji?” You’re guessing, “Ruler number- fuck…the one about getting ready-” Based solely on the way that both men had their hands tapping at your hips to let you know when a particularly hard hit was coming through.

“And which one is that?” Toji croons.

“Number four-” There’s a victorious little pebble of precum that Toji’s emptying out into your insides. 

“Mmm, good catch.” And you’re feeling the smile crawl onto your face. “But I’m not Toji.”

Fucking—thwack!

“But how about just a little reward?” And then a hot mouth starts kissing down the valley of your breast - from this angle you could only assume that it was Shiu. 

Shiu was lapping the soft targets of your areolas…just lightly biting…and oh—he lets out a wet gasp as a thin stream of milk flows from your tits n’ into the handsome man’s mouth. “Oh- this might just be my reward.” He says as he keeps massaging your chest, twiddling his fingers over where you were most sensitive. 

“Leave some f’me.” Toji grunts at the other man.

By this point you were a blabbering mess, and it didn’t help that the other two were only growing sloppier by the second. Perhaps it was the heat affecting you three. Perhaps it was the pressure being put on all your bodies - crushed together like this. Hips driving into you again and again and again—

Another globular tip swerves inside you. “I-is it…Toji?” You ask. Your lower lip wobbles at the sudden stretches on places that couldn’t be reached without such a girth - both of them had their merits and it was hard not to long for…both. The mere thought fogs your mind. “And is it…”

Though there could only be one answer. At least for this one.

Your poor tail’s being used as a lever to drag you down onto Toji’s extremely thickened cock until you sat on the bottom of it. “-rule number five?”

Toji kisses the side of your face. “Now that…is 100% correct.”

“And what would you like as a reward? Tell your Shiu anything, pretty girl.” Shiu says—drawing a half-serious scoff from the hybrid.

But of course. There can only ever be one thing.

Your mouth opens and the confession slips out of you before you can think it through fully.

And then there’s a beat of silence- hell, you think even Toji’s hips began to falter. For but a mere split-second before he’s bashing in the soft spongy platform at the end of your cunt—“Oh.” He breathes. “I don’t see why not…”

Thrill shoots through you.

And for the first time in a while - Toji removes his palm from your face. You’re wincing ever-so-slightly at the sudden flood of light, before that expression turns into something akin to yearning as you stare at Shiu’s cock throbbing between your legs. 

He was almost out-of-place with Toji’s fat length already stuffed inside you. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Shiu whispers to himself as he glides his blushin’ cockhead to drag along your outer cunt. Uuuuup the planes of your thighs. Lingering on that leakin’ slit that was so stuffed. And then squeezing the very tip-top reddened crown of his shaft into your entrance—did he mention that you already had Toji’s fat length stuffed inside you?

Shiu’s expression morphs at the tightest fit-

“Shit- fucking shit, are we sure—”

“Why not?” Toji asks. And Shiu thinks that that’s damn easy for him to say; especially considering that he was already kept hostage inside your gooey inside. That’s where Shiu was trying to be.

He’s attempting to drag you in using your tail.

The other man is rolling his eyes - and his hips. Letting off a few useless semi-thrusts that doesn’t push him even a single inch inside—not with the extremely plump circumference of the hybrid’s length inside. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you- hah, pull out and try doing it yourself if you think it’s so easy?

“The early bull gets the pussy.” Toji smirks. “Besides- don’t tell me you’re forgetting rule number five already? The one about taking it all also means that you have to- mmm, put it all in-”

“I remember.” Shiu spits. Hands pushing your legs further open and grindin’ his hips close until his happy trail was roughly massaging your clit. “I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical to talk about the rules when even you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Guys-” You shrill above the constant arguing. “Guys.”

It takes you raising your voice loud enough to make the bedroom walls shudder for them to finally hear you.

And once they look at you- you’re huffing up at them. “I’m making my own rule.” Both pairs of pretty pussydrunken eyes widen in unison. “From now on- if you fight then you have to kiss and make up.”

“What-”

“What-”

“Pretty girl…” Shiu attempts to appeal to your softer side.

“Nuh huh.” Shaking your head. “So kiss—and then just fuck me.”

They share a look as if to question whether usurping of the rule-making was allowed…before it seems to dawn on them that yes—if it was you. And Shiu’s shrugging and leaning in - all the while still keeping his pulsating cocktip present between your folds - and Toji meets him halfway with only a few grumbles.

Shiu moans into the kiss.

And with a resounding sluuuuurp! he’s managing to squeeze just an inch or two of his cock inside. Double lengths stretching your walls until you were seeing white-

“Oh- oh.” You’re moaning. Shiu now had everything he needed to reel his bulky hips back and start pummeling you in time with Toji’s own thrusts. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—”

“Me neither.” The farmer manages through clenched teeth. The sensitive underside of his cock was rubbin’ and getting pulled by Toji’s own - those patterns of his veins, and the rock-hardness that mirrored his own - and even the slightest friction was enough to send spirals of white-hot pleasure pouring out of his bawling divot. 

“Tch- fine…me neither.” Toji groans. “But it only feels good because of me-”

“In your dreams.”

Without even being asked to or reminded of the newly-minted rule, they’re pressing a kiss onto each other’s lips—and then yours. Their pheromones twisting and melding into one. Their skin growing even more heated. Their cocks growing faster- 

And faster.

Both Shiu and Toji were moving at sloppy, lust-hazed paces that should not be possible for such a tight cranny. And yet they were managing to time it so that you’re feeling both of them exactly in the best ways: Toji and his deeeelicious veins pressing their patterns onto the sides of your channel, Shiu and his upright curve that spotted all your best nerve endings. 

They’re sandwiching you from above and below, too—Toji and his Herculean build, Shiu and his similar yet broader- and somehow stronger build.

They’re absolutely ruining you.

Ruining you.

Fucking you until your pussy’s feeling rattled and raw- and your eyes have completely bleared over with tears. Brain fried.

So it isn’t long before you’re feeling the pangs of an oncoming orgasm, and letting your mouth open to announce it—

“I-I’m going to cum.” But in actuality it’s Shiu that manages the declaration. And he’s stuffing his face into your tits, suckling out the sweet sweet milk that your hybrid body produces as he strings your gooey insides with his cum. “My pretty cow hybrid, I’m gonna stuff you full.” Looooong ropes of satin. So hard- that Shiu’s forced to hold onto both yours and Toji’s horns as he fucks your overstuffed pussy through his orgasm.

Those veins of Toji’s were making him twitch in pleasure.

You and Toji are crashing into your high rather soon afterwards too.

“Gonna…oh.” As the forceful waves of dopamine flood through every vein and atom inside you—practically make you vibrate with pleasure. You’re letting your eyes fly to the back of your head, and your toes curl as both men thrash that gooey g-spot of yours.

Perfectly synchronized with every peak upon peak of your high.

The prolonged wave of bliss soars—and it’s around the very crescendo that you’re feeling Toji empty his heavy balls out as well. They’d been thwack-thwack-thwacking! near the bottom of your slit for so long now, creating a carnal ache over your outer pussy- and it just feels so good to feel those globs of cum flood your deepest caverns.

Where Shiu had already made a mess before- “Shit…don’t stop.” 

And it’s with renewed vigor that they’re fucking and fucking you through the white-hot pleasure - so good that you’re sobbing. In-between this euphoric experience is when Toji’s keening his hips up into yours- chasing the wetness of your cunt even more—

Not just to fuck his pearly-white droplets of cum inside - but to try and squeeze, fuck, his swollen knot inside.

“Inside—” As you demand needily at your bull hybrid, Shiu watches on in something akin to awe. He starts nudging his hips back as though to give Toji more space-

But you’re wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him to you. “Rule number one, remember?”

Letting Toji fuck his knot inside you as Shiu has his twitchin’ wet cock stuffed in there, too. The stretch was indescribable.

You think you’re cumming all over again just from it.

“My- my mates…” You’re sobbing out- sandwiched between the two buff men. Shiu leans in to kiss you, and once he’s taking a good long look at Toji too. 

“My mates…I suppose?” He says with a sheepish smile.

Toji looks between the two of you, seemingly having connected the dots. “Does this mean I’ve gotta get both of you pregnant?”

You smile. “Sounds good to me.”

Shiu. “Wait-”

Because heats lasted a week for hybrids. 

Shiu better get his human stamina used to it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry…what?”

It’s a sentence that Shiu thinks he’s going to have to get used to a lot—telling people that the cow hybrid you’d had a crush on for the past few years but then gotten mated is actually your mate too - and that by association you’re her mate’s mate but honestly not really complaining about it is…for one a long sentence. 

And two, it’s probably going to get a bunch of weird looks.

It sounds like the stuff of a fantasy, maybe even those romance stories; and Shiu’s well and fully aware of how he sounds when he says it.

Which is why he’s telling Kusakabe first - it only seemed appropriate.

“It’s exactly as I said.” Shiu states matter-of-factly. “And you can ask Dr. Shoko if you think there’s been any mix-”

“No no, man. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Kusakabe interrupts him. “In fact, I think it’s great that you finally managed to do something about your feelings- congratulations, man.”

“Thank you.” Shiu watches the herd from the door to the barn house - inside, the only pair were you and Toji. His breath hitches once you’re walking over from Toji to nuzzle up to him. He reaches to scratch behind those silken ears of yours—“But then what was all that about?”

“Ah- no, it’s just…” There’s a truck honk from the other end of the line, and Shiu realizes that Kusakabe must be going somewhere. “I assumed it was actually about the bull.”

Shiu squints. “The what thing?”

“The bull thing. I guess Toji forgot to tell you since you were a little preoccupied. But last night when Toji took over driving my truck we happened to run into…everything.”

Shiu snorts. “Serves you right.”

“And man- I needed this truck to transport this new bull hybrid for ol’ Gakuganji down in Kyoto. You know how he gets. It’s the only one big enough so…” 

And now…now Shiu wasn’t exactly having fun. “…And?” The two of you were looking at him in interest now, clearly having heard something about another hybrid—and Toji especially had had his smirk growing in synchronization with the increasingly ashen look on Shiu’s face.

“And so Toji said it’s alright, but would you mind looking after this new bull for a few days until I get the truck fixed? Just for a few days. I’m actually on the way there right now so thank you. His name is Sukuna and-”

“Noooooooooo-”

Bent stupidly over your boss’s cold mahogany desk as small piles of paperwork go fluttering over its edge, there you were fulfilling the unspoken requirement of your job as an assistant. With a fat cockhead sloppily kissing the inner depths of your sweet cunt and your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you found yourself drunk off of the mean thrusts you’re being gifted with, you were assisting your boss with something alright.

Now, this wasn’t exactly how you planned for this morning to go buuut, one thing led to another and now you’re here anyway.

Babbled throaty attempts of his name escaped you as your glossy eyes traveled to the back of your skull in pure fucked-out ecstasy. Sure, you were supposed to be attending a meeting with the man right now but having your face smushed up against some expensive wood and listening to the string of wonton groans ‘n grunts that left your employer’s throat was far more enjoyable.

This probably wasn't one of your smartest decisions considering the meeting you’re supposed to be in is probably one of high importance. And yeah, this teeny tiny mistake of yours may or may not lead to one of the most bizarre tales of your life but hey, in your defense, you were too fucked-out to think of your future at the time.

Especially with the way your head gets tugged up from the desk so rudely by a fistful of your hair, drool spilling past your wet parted lips, legs shaking, and hips faintly bruised by the edge of the desk you’d been tossed over. How could you think about anything or anyone else when—

“‘Michi,” Was all that you could moan out over and over and over again. So stupidly loud too as if you didn’t have a care in the world, “H-Harder, mmphf-, fuuck..”

Pulling your head back enough to give you the perfect chance to angle your gaze over to meet eyes with him, Yaga greets you with this fucked-out grin and a husked tone, “You’re too loud,” Before you can even fathom a reply, two thick fingers are getting shoved into your mouth. “Just beggin’ to be caught, huh?”

Talk about foreshadowing…

Your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and pleasure, hips pushing back against him just as he presses himself forward. Then you feel his lips meet the crown of your ear and there’s a slight stutter in his thrusts.

“Lift your leg,” Yaga grunts hotly, to which your left leg pushes up to rest against the desk. “Fuck-, just like that,” He groans, removing the hand from your hair and moving it to your hip.

With your leg propped up against the desk, his cock hits a new angle inside you and even with his fingers pressed right against your tongue, you still manage to choke out a pleasureful whimper. Yaga’s feet shift against the floor a bit and he takes that sound of yours as a sign to keep hitting that spot over and over and over until—

His fingers soon fall from your lips and you flop right back down against the desk, one of his pencil holders going scattering to the floor as an arm of yours extends out to grab a hold of the surface's edge. Both of his palms meet your hips and he pins you down into the position you’ve found yourself in, drilling into your sopping hole like he’s grown addicted.

That rude plap plap plap! echoes all throughout his office along with each desperate moan that pours from your lips. At this point, neither of you were trying to be quiet anymore.

Before you even realize it, you’re making a filthy mess around his cock, tugging him deeper than before each time he reels his hips back and invoking the deepest groans of your name from his throat. Yaga found himself tossing his head back and the only thing he could focus on was that nasty squelch leaving your cunt.

A rough hand comes down on your ass somewhere throughout your high and you can’t even think anymore. You were too lost in all that felt good and didn’t exactly register the particularly pitched moan that left you until it was much too late.

Yaga could feel himself growing close so he leaned over you a bit, pushing his weight against you and moving a hand to the space on the desk right next to your side. You lift your head a bit, panting heavily, and his lips meet your neck.

Warm wet kisses are peppered all over the side of your neck and you feel him throbbing inside you, aching for release. “How mad do y’think the board will be?” Your boss utters into your skin, “Think they’d forgive me if I explained why I was s’late?”

You grit your teeth for a moment before choking out a response, feeling him smile against your neck as you do so. “I-I think you’d l-lose your-, hnngh… job i-if they knew what… hah, what you were doin’.” You stammer out breathlessly.

“Yeahh?” Yaga rasps, “I think they’d understand. Especially if I tell ‘em just how needy my pretty assistant’s been all day.” He emphasizes with a harsher thrust forward, causing you to choke on your own moan.

“Sir,” You gasp suddenly, eyes fluttering shut.

Your boss lets out a throaty sound, “Fuuck, d-don’t do that.” That simple gasp of yours was all it took for his cock to begin throbbing and aching for release inside you.

He was right there on the edge—ready to bring this quick fuck to an overdue end, shuffle your clothes back on properly, and then go stumbling into that meeting as late as ever. And yet, somewhere throughout the next groan that leaves his dry throat, his office door flies open.

“Mr. Yaga, I can’t hold this meeting off any longer, we need—” You honestly feel bad for the poor woman who had to walk in on the two of you.

The scene laid out before her widened eyes was like something straight out of some cheap porno. Papers and other desk items were splayed out all over the floor surrounding Yaga’s large desk, the two of you were as disheveled and debauched as ever, and the position both of you stood in wasn’t something you could try and pass off as anything aside from what it was.

Not to mention the way you feel Yaga’s cock twitch inside you wildly just as he spills filthy ropes of cum into you. Looking back on this whole thing makes you laugh because it was probably then that you realized the man had some kinda kink for that situation. Y’know, getting caught.

Earlier you said something about how he’d probably lose his job if the board found out about what the two of you were doing but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Nope, instead it was you who lost your job. Obviously, the lady who caught you wasn’t going to keep her discovery to herself and she practically sprinted back to the meeting room just to tell them about you and your boss.

Less than twenty-four hours later and you found yourself jobless.

Being unemployed wasn’t that bad if you’re being completely honest with yourself. Or, it wasn’t too bad for a couple of days. At the time that this all happened, you were living with Yaga. He wasn’t just your boss but he was also a lover of yours.

The relationship was kept very private for reasons concerning your job so when you lost it, you thought that your life would go in a different direction for the better. You and Yaga could openly go on dates, finally work toward the future he claimed to have wanted to build with you, and basically live your life freely.

You were able to live on with that mindset for a wonderful duration of… three days.

Yeah, three days and then Yaga dumped you and kicked your ass to the curb. For a time, you were devastated about this. He had promised you so many things, treated you with so much love and respect, and cared for you in the ways any decent partner would but, you eventually came to the conclusion that he only did all of that because you worked under him.

The event that caused you to lose your job also put a nasty stain on your previously crisp and meticulously crafted résumé. Before getting caught having sex with your boss, you would’ve been a shoo-in for any and all office-related jobs that were hiring.

But after that? You could kiss an easy work-life goodbye.

You’d been aware of the risk that came with having a romantic relationship with your boss from the moment you and him started to cross those professional lines. Though, you honestly didn’t expect to get caught like that.

That doubt behind your expectations probably blossomed from the lust and romantic clouds that left you blinded for months. Yaga was amazing until he wasn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you to lose your job, boyfriend, home, and a large piece of your dignity in less than a week.

Since then, you swore to yourself that you’d never allow work and romance to blend. The sex you had with Yaga, whether it be in or out of the office, should’ve remained as it was—just sex. Unfortunately for you, things with him became more than that and you foolishly let your heart get involved with something that could & should have remained strictly lustful.

It was always more than Yaga just being your boss. He was tied with most things that held importance to you, which is exactly why you lost so much so ridiculously fast.

The only positive factor about that entire ordeal is the fact that it happened six years ago.

You’re an entirely different woman now, as to be expected.

While the stain on your resume made things very difficult for you for a good half of those six years, you weren’t left completely ruined. You managed to get decent jobs here and there—not that you ever stayed for long. And no, you weren’t constantly getting fired or anything.

This time around, you were actually learning just how easy it is to wrap men around that perfectly manicured finger of yours. Job after job after job and they all proved to act the same way.

You’ll never forget the way things went with Yaga but, you eventually learned that you were just doing things with him all wrong. You lacked both control and confidence over your life with him—a mistake which you’ll never make again.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Today marks the day that you walk into a new company. It’s a bit generic—your average supply company but, the pay was enough to spark your interest (among other things).

After a flawless interview, you were hired almost immediately and today was your first day in for training. You lucked up enough to score a decent position and it was from this first day there that you knew you’d find your way to the top in no time. Not to mention the previous owner of your new position had recently been fired so, the company was already looking for someone new & you just so happened to be in search of a new job.

And while you readied yourself for said first day, members of the office you’d be arriving to within the next few minutes were sharing their opinions on the woman who’d be soon to join them; you.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Was the first properly formulated opinion on you as a whole, not that you were able to hear it. “She sounds way too good on paper.” Gojo Satoru scoffs out to his favorite cubicle of assorted people.

His words earn a laugh or two from those listening, which only encourages him to continue his ranting.

Resting his chin against his palm as he eyes down the moderately distant entrance on the other side of the large office space, Gojo puffs out an impatient sigh, “I mean seriously, her résumé’s almost better than mine! Not to mention,” His head cocks over toward one of the separated rooms, “She gets her own office. Do you guys remember how hard I had to work for mine?!”

A few nods of agreement go out to the complaining finance director but for some reason that doesn’t seem to satisfy him so he turns to his trusted assistant; the unfortunate Ijichi Kiyotaka—a man who almost always has to listen to whatever rambles Gojo spews.

“Can you believe this?” Gojo asks with a faintly pouted lip and slightly tensed brows, eyeing the stressed assistant standing a few inches away from him.

Ijichi merely shrugs, “You were made aware of her addition to this company over a week ago, sir. I thought by now you’d have accepted it considering—”

A lengthy finger meets Ijichi’s face before he has time to finish his sentence and Gojo turns his head away, “Wait, shhh, I think I heard something.” He interrupts, pushing up on his toes a bit just to get a better look at the steadily approaching figure about to round the distant corner and enter the office.

With that, everyone else’s head turns to get a look as well but they’re all quickly disappointed when only the company’s marketing VP, Higuruma, walks in. The tired-looking man raises a brow at all the attention fixated on him but many quickly play it off with a greeting gesture of a raised hand and wave.

Higuruma waves back, a bit of confusion vexed onto his features considering he doesn’t typically receive that much attention from that side of the office but he shrugs it off after a moment and continues his walk onward.

“Damnit,” Gojo grumbles, bringing his wrist up to check his flashy Rolex for the time. “She should’ve been here by now, no?”

One of his nearby interns let out a snort, “Y’know, this is the longest I’ve ever seen you outside your office, sir.”

Moving his hand just to meet eyes with the recently spoken, Gojo quirks a slim brow, “It is not.” He breathes out dramatically, trying to defend himself for the past thirty minutes he’s been lingering around awaiting your arrival. “A-And even if it is… Color me intrigued, I just want to see if the woman matches all that I’ve heard about her. It’s not like this is an easy company to get into, so—”

“..It wasn’t an easy company for you to get into, maybe,” Another intern murmurs jokingly, earning some chuckles.

“I heard that,” Gojo grumbles, “But my point still stands. I’m just curious and want to welcome her in.”

Ijichi clears his throat a bit, tempted to toss in his two cents regarding Gojo’s presence around the main office. His boss pauses again and slowly turns to send his assistant a look, “Is there something you’d like to say, Ijichi?”

“Well,” Dropping his dark brown eyes to the floor and moving a nervous hand to awkwardly push his glasses up a bit, Ijichi swallows thickly. “It’s just that you called her joining us ‘bullshit’ only a few minutes ago, a-and you don’t even think she’ll last long but now you want to welcome her in…?”

Gojo’s quickly taken back by Ijichi’s mentioning of an earlier comment he’d made out of annoyance—having grumbled something about how you’ll only last a week or so before you’re onto the next company or even fired. A couple of whispered agreements are exchanged by different employees, followed by giggles and other murmured comments that point out the inconsistency in Gojo’s attitude toward the newcomer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Gojo tuts, “Okay, yeah, I did say that but can a man not have a change of heart? I haven’t even seen the lady yet. For all I know she could walk in here all shy ‘n worried about joining us, which will make me feel bad and—”

Someone clears their throat, “Mr. Gojo.”

“—then I’ll take back everything I said, welcome her in, act like I haven’t been waiting on her for hours, and pretend to be surprised that she’s likely just as impressive in person as she is on paper. I was just a bit bothered by the fact that—”

“Mr. Gojo!” They whisper-shout this time, finally earning his attention.

Gojo sighs and looks at them for only a moment before that person nods their head over toward the entrance to the office and when the man follows the gesture, all of his word vomiting dies out on his tongue and just about all thoughts go flying out the window.

Many nearby heads turn, just like the first time when Higuruma had entered, except this time around it’s not in vain.

Around the corner comes a woman with her head held high and a determined look fixed firmly onto her features—that woman is you. Ignorant of all the talk about your arrival, you waltz right into the office behind someone by the name of Kusakabe.

The brunette that was leading the way for you was apparently your new assistant, which you thought was a wonderful perk to this job. He’d been giving you a tour of the building and the two of you had finally reached the floor you’d be predominantly working on.

As your heels go click-clacking across the cool flooring with each step you take, many eyes trail your every movement—only one pair in particular miraculously earning your gaze.

Kusakabe was explaining the layout of the office to you, telling you about how there were a total of two separate offices, one of them now belonging to you, and that the common space was where everyone else under you worked. As he points and shows you things, your eyes naturally wander elsewhere to get a look at all that he’d yet to explain and you finally notice how much attention is on you.

Heads popped up from a bunch of different cubicles and many were trying to play things off as if they weren’t looking at you but it was still obvious despite the magazines some hid their faces behind. The few people trying to look inconspicuous as they took in your presence sparked a warming smile to spread across your face but that’s not what really drew you in.

No, what captured your attention was the set of cerulean eyes focused solely on you from across the room. As your gaze met his, an unspoken vestige of tension drafted into the air. The office was huge so there was a great deal of space between where you and him stood but you still felt something upon meeting eyes with him.

Kusakabe soon noticed where your attention had landed and he stepped closer to you only to casually point in the direction you were already focused on, index aiming at the man staring at you, “That man over there is Gojo Satoru, our financial director.”

You nod slowly and your lips are steady to part as you reply in a whisper, still holding eyes with the man of current conversation, “I see. Does he stare at everyone like this or…?”

Your new assistant chuckles and turns his head to look at you, “Honestly? Yes,” He says lightheartedly.

To which you’re the first to break the little staring contest and return your attention to Kusakabe, “Wait, really?” You gasp slightly, noticing the way the brunette laughs again.

“No, not seriously but he does do that with new people. You’ll meet him more formally later and see for yourself,” He explains to you, earning a simple nod of your head in response.

Then, Kusakabe turns to show you into your office and you motion to follow after him once more.

You’re not sure what, but something tells you to look over to that guy again. Gojo Satoru you repeat mentally as you shoot your eyes over one last time. He was looking away but as soon as you turn, he does too, and another long distant staring contest is held between the two of you before you watch his face twist up a little.

With the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen in your life, and although you can’t hear it from where you are, Gojo lets out a scoff before looking you up and down and then turning away—quickly disappearing into his nearby office with a slam of his door.

You bat your lashes and your brows are quick to meet in a mix of annoyance and confusion. You haven’t even officially spoken to the man and yet he has this nerve to flash such a displeased look at you? Or was it more a look to flaunt his ego—perhaps something to hide his intimidated demeanor?

Whatever it is, you merely brush it off with a roll of your eyes and turn to follow after Kusakabe.

First day into this place and you’ve already managed to leave a sour impression on someone, great.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Inside that office of his, Gojo’s returned to his desk in a fit of… well, he’s not quite sure what he’s feeling right now.

You haven’t even done anything yet but, without a doubt, Gojo does not like you. Eyes narrowing as his thoughts begin to consume him, all he can replay in his head is the initial image of you rounding that corner behind Kusakabe. Unfortunately for him, you’re gorgeous. Which is an annoyance already because that makes you a distraction for him.

Not to mention the way you hold yourself together, head all high ‘n mighty with this confidence that bothers something deep within him—something he can’t quite put a finger on.

His hands shift to swipe up a pen from his cluttered desk and Gojo begins to twirl the item in between his fingers as he contemplates a few things. Ijichi soon comes sliding into the office quietly, not daring to say a word and disturb Gojo’s focus on whatever thought he's having.

A flashback of your resume, which Gojo only got a glimpse of because he was busy bothering the HR department instead of being productive, comes popping into his head. Absolutely flawless. Hell, he would’ve hired you instantly too if he’d been your employer. Even after reading over just the first few lines but shit, the perfection behind your résumé was uncanny.

And above all else, Gojo’s jealous. He’s been working at this company for almost two years now—steadily climbing up, of course, but it still took him a long time to get to where he is right now. Which doesn’t even make sense to him. He went to college with the CEO!

It’s not like Gojo exactly needs this job, he’s rich. He’s only here because of that recently mentioned CEO. Gojo’s had money all his life so by the time he reached his late twenties, he found himself bored. He felt like he’d done everything he was meant to do in life except get a proper job.

Which is why he’s here now. This job gave him a challenge, he had to work hard to get hired, work harder to get promoted, and damn near stress himself just to get a conversation or two with that guy he went to college with.

Then there’s you. You who got to walk in here and have everything served to you on a silver platter right before his very eyes. And you have the nerve to be stunning?

Talk about greed…

The way you had turned and flashed such a warming smile to everyone when you came in—too friendly for Gojo’s liking, might he add, all beaming and welcoming… His eyes just roll at the memory of it. It was probably fake, that smile of yours. Fingers crossed and you turn out to be a bad person so he can have a real reason to dislike you.

Shaking his head, Gojo realizes he’s overthinking this whole thing. He doesn’t care about you. You're just some newcomer! You’ll be gone in a week—the last chick in your position had only been here for two months before she was gone so he doubts you’ll last longer.

Or, that’s what he tells himself anyway. Because not even two minutes later and he’s standing from his desk and pacing over to his office windows, peeking through the blinds and trying to get the best view of your whereabouts from where he can.

Your office door is now closed so he can’t see anything that’s going in there but he can’t help but wonder what kinda person you are. The previous marketing director and Gojo didn’t get along too well so maybe that’s a part of whatever stigma he’s attached to you already. Hence his nebby nature now.

Watching your office door like a hawk from the confines of his own space, Gojo’s got one hand separating the blinds for a good view and the other tightly clasped around a warm cup of coffee. In the midst of sipping on that morning beverage of his, a sudden choke on the liquid alarms the nearby Ijichi, who comes rushing forward as Gojo begins to cough and then point at something.

“Sir, are you okay?” Ijichi asks as he approaches his boss with an abundance of napkins.

Gojo starts shaking his head but doesn’t spare the poor guy any more of a reply before swiping the napkins from Ijichi’s nerved palms, briskly wiping his mouth off, and moving to swing his door open.

Still confused, Ijichi merely follows after Gojo with furrowed brows and ends up walking right into him. At the same time, both men stumble to get a full view of what caused such an abrupt reaction.

“You’re joking,” Gojo mutters under his breath, now glaring across the office with an irritated eye twitching in tandem with his emotions. Because not only did Nanami Kento—the company’s CEO—go out of his way to visit this floor for the first time in weeks but of course he’s only making an appearance to talk to you.

When Gojo first saw the tall blond round that entryway corner, he thought he was just imagining things. But now that he’s stepped out of his office to get a better look, he’s left baffled. Your office door is open and Kusakabe is clearly panicked as he talks to the very intimidating Nanami. Although Gojo can’t quite make out the conversation from where he’s standing, watching you walk out only a few moments later tells him all he needs to know.

Gojo’s eyes follow every movement of yours as Nanami gives you a nod of his head, and clearly tells you to ‘follow him’. Then comes that annoying smile of yours before you so graciously trail behind the man. Without even thinking, Gojo swats his mug back to Ijichi, who barely clutches onto the item, and then his feet begin to move.

Being curious is one thing, nosy is another. Doubting you is one thing, talking shit about you before you even got there is another. And having your position as Marketing Director handed to you is one thing but earning Nanami’s attention on your first day here is another ordeal entirely.

Just who the hell are you? And why were you gaining all the things Gojo’s wanted since his first day here on your first day?

Gojo makes it halfway across the office just as Nanami disappears behind that corner, heading toward the elevators. You, following closely behind, stop for a second and it’s in that instant that Gojo’s feet pause flat on the floor.

He’s not sure why he’s stopped so suddenly but he doesn’t get much time to think about it before you turn your head back and look directly at him—almost as if you knew he left his office just to follow you. The sudden eye contact makes Gojo swallow down this weird feeling in his throat he wasn’t aware existed until now.

You watch the way his eyes narrow at you and, as if to get back at him, you then let your gaze fall downward along his body before rising back up. A natural twitch in the corner of your lips is felt before you mock his earlier expression with an attitude somehow cockier than his was.

Gojo is left visibly offended; brows so frustratedly scrunched up, eyes carrying a level of irritation that almost makes you want to take things a step further and laugh, and hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His lips part ever so slightly and you can tell it’s killing him not to say something right now-, anything, really.

The sound of your name being called from around the corner breaks the tension entirely and he watches the way you flinch a little. Your eyes get a bit wider and whatever mask of confidence you just put on falters for not even half a second before you turn away with a prompt reply of ‘coming, sorry!’ and then disappear within the blink of an eye.

It’s only day one but, without a doubt, Gojo cannot stand you. A feeling of which he highly doubts will ever change.

m.list | taglist | next file >

★

You wake first, still nestled against him, his breathing slow and even as you take stock of your situation. 

Spencer made some choices yesterday. 

Choices that make you want to throttle him.

Calling you sweetheart. 

Kissing you.

Whispering so sweetly to you.

Using his stupid tongue on you and ruining cunilingus from anyone else for you forever. 

The list goes on, how are you supposed to go back to work like this? Although, that’s only a problem if you’re found. 

The whole team is going to see the video. That’s going to be a problem either way.

You can already imagine them huddled around the conference room table with Hotch’s laptop between them. 

You know what, you can worry about that later, that’s only a problem if they find you. 

Of course they’ll find you. 

Hopefully. 

When Spencer wakes it’s with a groan as he cradles the back of his head, still sore from the wound. Rather than cower in shame you decide to just break the silence and speak to him. He’s still your friend, even after yesterday. 

“You didn’t tell me what happened when you were taken, just that you were knocked out.” You recall the unsub being so certain he would be able to get Spencer in the same day as you, it makes no sense when you ponder it. After having an agent taken captive you would assume they would be taking extra measures to ensure no one else was taken. 

When he doesn’t respond you tilt your head to look up at him, only to be met by a sheepish smile. 

“I was… a little careless.” He mumbles, his voice is scratchy and heavy with sleep. 

“When I was alone with him the unsub said I wouldn’t have to wait long for you.” You cock an eyebrow at him.

“We were given multiple tips on the call line JJ setup, there were too many, we all agreed to go down the list until we found a lead. It’s possible that I got a little bit ahead of myself and split off from the group. Before I knew it I was knocked to the ground, and then I was here.”

“Sounds like something I would do.” You grin at him as you sit up, urging him to roll onto his side so you can take another look. It looks better than yesterday, he likely just needs to rinse the dried blood out. “It looks okay, Do you think you have a concussion?” The thought makes your stomach churn. 

”Definietly not, I’m exhibiting no symptoms.” He seems so sure, you can’t help but wonder if that’s just something someone with a concussion would say. 

“I’m just worried you may not be making decisions you would normally make.” Jesus Christ, did you take advantage of him? Is he even in the right state of mind?

Kissing you, calling you sweetheart, tongue fucking you. 

He immediately knows where your train of thought’s headed. 

“I’m fine.”

”Are you absolutely sure?” 

”I have no headache or ringing in my ears, I haven’t vomited. I’m not nauseous, no confusion, no memory loss. I’m not sure if you’re aware but I am a doctor, I would know if I had a concussion.” As he rambles on you lean closer, examining his pupils closely. They appear normal, his greenish brownish eyes study you as you study them. 

“Promise you feel fine?”

”If you’re worried about consent there’s nothing to worry about.” He looks at you incredulously, as if this isn’t a very serious matter.

“Promise?” You tilt your head to the side. 

“I promise I am of sound body and mind.” He holds his hand up like he’s taking an oath. 

After another look at his pupils you believe him, even if he isn’t technically a medical doctor you trust his judgement. 

“How much progress do you think the teams made on the case?” You can’t help but change the subject as your thoughts drift back to your current predicament. 

”I’m sure they’re doing their best but we barely had a profile together by the time you were taken. And with him no longer taking new victims…” You know exactly what he’s implying. 

Typically if you’re on a job and the unsub suddenly stops killing victims you’re taken off the case. Without any evidence you can’t make a functional profile. 

“Not to mention they’re down two profilers.” He mumbles.

“We can expect escalation in his behavior as well.” Even if your compliance keeps him from completely losing it, the behavior will continue to escalate regardless. 

“How are you feeling?” He turns to stare at you, clearly gauging your reaction. 

”About this situation? Not great.” No reason to lie, he knows neither one of you is really okay right now.

”I mean physically.”

”Sore.” Just a little. 

”I’m sorry.” 

He shouldn’t be, he didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have let him do in any other scenario. 

”It’s not your fault, I could say the same thing to you.”

”You really don’t need to.” He shrugs, his concern is still apparent. 

“Spencer.” When you say his name in as firm of a tone as you can muster his face softens a bit. The creases between his eyebrows melt away when he stares at you, you swear the corners of his mouth twitch up. “I’m serious.” You manage to whisper, even though the look in his eyes is knocking the wind out of you. 

“After what I did to you? You really want to know if I’m okay?” He leans in, resting his head on his palm.

When did he get so close to you?

“What you had to do.” You correct him. 

He opens his mouth, a look of confliction flashes across his face. You have no time to further question him because the crackling intercom has you both sitting up straight. 

“Good morning my stars. You would not believe the response to your debut film.” 

Gross. 

“I simply cannot stop thinking about your performance yesterday, even yours Dr. Reid. What a hidden talent.” 

Neither one of you speaks now, what would you even say? After seeing that video the team will assume you’ve been released, just like every other set of victims, how long before they realize what’s going on? 

“I have a surprise for the two of you for such a dazzling performance, I am not a total monster. I want to show you that good behavior is rewarded.” You both flinch when the red door clicks, swinging open. You aren’t sure what you expect but it definitely isn’t what you find. 

There’s nothing. 

No one comes barging in so you both approach cautiously, pulling the door open fully you find not an exit, but a hallway. There is a door at the end of the hallway that you assume is the exit and an open room without a door halfway down the corridor. 

“Since the two of you will be my guests for an extended period of time I thought I might provide some amenities. Although I will expect continued compliance if you wish to have access to the facilities.”

You continue to move with your defenses up but when you lean into the doorway you find a sterile looking well lit bathroom. There’s a toilet, a sink with a mirror above it, and a small standing shower. When you step back out into the hall Spencer is pushing on the other door, you know it’s locked but it doesn’t hurt to check. 

“I have big plans for the day, I would like you both to make yourselves presentable, under the sink you will find a box with water and prepackaged unopened food, for your peace of mind.” You make your way to the sink, crouching down, opening the box you find exactly what he said, along with a stack of folded black fabric. “I have also provided you with fresh clothes. I expect no objections, you wear them or there will be consequences. You are to leave your dirty clothes in the box, except for your tie Dr. Reid, you may keep that in your room.” 

You ignore the clothes, not wanting to see what’s in store for you just yet, instead you take a sandwich and a water, passing them to Spencer. 

“I can see that you are not in a talking mood today, that is okay, I will be back in an hour to start filming our next project, play nice until then.” The click of the intercom makes you relax as you open one of the water bottles, tilting your head back and taking a long swig. 

You’re both on edge knowing what’s coming, the inevitable. Any snippet of a playful rapport you had going this morning has fizzled into nothing. 

“You shower first, I’m gonna go sit for a few minutes.” Spencer breaks the silence before leaving the room without another word. You don’t object, you just turn on the water. Tossing your clothes across the room, trying not to think about the cameras that are likely in this room as well. 

You clear your mind as the hot water rushes over you. Your instinct is to worry, to come up with a plan but the logical part of you knows you should just enjoy this moment of respite as best you can. There is no escape, at least not until your team figures something out. 

You try not to take too long, knowing that Spencer needs a shower too. You turn the water off, reaching for one of the hanging towels before patting yourself dry. 

Time to dare a look at the outfit you’ll be wearing. 

The first thing you pull out is a simple black cotton shirt, followed by dark grey boxers. Likely not yours. 

Below them is a surprisingly tame black camisole. When you pull it over your head it’s skin tight but it definitely could be worse. You aren’t granted as much coverage as boxers but the little black panties aren’t the end of the world, you were expecting hardcore lingerie, leather and spandex, but they’re simple cotton panties. 

When you step out of the bathroom you yelp as you almost trip over Spencer, sitting criss cross on the ground. 

“Sorry!” He stands, holding his hands up.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, I went back to the other room initially but then I was thinking that this might be a set up and if I went in there he could lock and close the door and separate us. And then you’d be alone with him, so I figured it was best to stay here, I was going to tell you but it seemed inappropriate to go in there while you were showering.” He rambles as you nod along, he’s noticeably staring at the ceiling, occasionally his eyes dart down to you before flying back upwards. 

“That’s… actually really sweet. Thanks.” You give him a soft smile as he steps around you into the bathroom, you hear the water running after just a moment so you take a seat right where he was, listening to water hitting the tile as you take another sip from your water bottle. 

You aren’t left alone for long, only a few minutes have passed before the water turns back off as you listen to the sounds of him shuffling around. You stand, not wanting to trip him as well.

When he steps out you find yourself in the same position as him, staring at the ceiling to avoid gawking. Just like you his top is tight. This is not the time or place to be drooling over the way the fabric stretches across his chest, or accentuates his slender waist. Without a word you both shuffle back into the other room, watching curiously as the red door clicks back into place with a loud thunk. 

“I hope the two of you are ready to get over your sudden silent treatment. I am quite fond of the way you speak to one another.” 

“What do you want?” Spencer pulls it together a lot better than you do, his voice comes out steady and controlled, even if his fingernails dig into his palm when he speaks. 

“There is that voice, what a wonderful question Dr. Reid, I have such an eventful scene planned.” You can’t help it as your hand drifts to his, intertwining your fingers with his as you try to appear calm. “I would love to give you both a detailed script but after yesterday I have to resist, you do such marvelous improv. I have a few things I would like to see, I do not care how you do them as long as they are done.”

You swallow loudly, you know it’s audible because he gives your hand a squeeze right after. 

“My angel, you did some impressive work yesterday but today I would like to reward Dr. Reid for his valiant efforts in making you shine. I will not ask for something as cruel as five orgasms of him, but I would like to see at least two. Because he did such a good job taking control of the situation yesterday I want to see more of that. I want her hands restrained, use your tie, I want you to do whatever you would like with her. I expect to see you in her mouth and in her pretty pussy.” You cringe, the way he talks about you makes you want to retch. “I found myself quite taken with the way you express yourself, Doctor. I would like more of that, I want to see what else your mouth is capable of. I want to hear dirty, nasty things, all for her. Take complete control Dr. Reid, take what you want from here, show me, show everyone, just how much you care about your dear friend and fellow agent. I expect all of my demands to be met, or you will be redoing the scene until you get it right. And I will not be so kind as to reward you with water and a bathroom if your performance is not up to my standards.” With a click he’s gone and you’re left with the aftermath of his demand.

“Hey, are you okay?” You find yourself seeking to comfort him now that it’s his turn in the hot seat. Untangling your fingers from his. 

“I’m fine.” He sure doesn’t sound fine. His posture has gone completely taut.

“If you don’t want to do this we’ll figure something out.” You lower your voice to a whisper, you know it likely isn’t making much of a difference but you can’t help but try and have an ounce of privacy. 

“There’s nothing to figure out, I spent half the night running through scenarios in my mind, there’s nothing. There’s no way out of this that doesn’t risk leaving you alone with him. And we’re absolutely not doing that.” He clears his throat. “I can do this.” He turns, his hair is damp, tucked neatly behind his ears. “I’m gonna have to… you know, do what he asked, will you be okay?” 

He’s going to fuck your mouth and your ‘pretty pussy.’ Are you okay with that? Is your heart pounding at the thought?

“I’m good, I promise, we’ve got this, this could be like, way worse. We could be getting tortured, instead we’re just doing… this.” You babble nervously. You know members of your team who have survived far worse at the hands of an unsub than this, you can do this. “We’re seeing some minor escalation but thankfully nothing too crazy, right? You made the right call yesterday, if we hadn’t done a good job we would have seen a much more aggressive escalation.”   

 “Yeah, the right call.” He’s mumbling, clearly lost in thought. 

“Hey.” You do your best to sound serious as he stares at you. You raise your hand like you’re taking an oath. “I promise that I’m okay with everything that is about to happen.” You smile like this is all just a funny inside joke, trying to ease whatever is gnawing at him. “I think I can handle a little dirty talk.”

“I just wish…” He starts a train of thought as he stares down at you, trying to muster a smile in return but he stops himself. 

“You wish?” 

“I wish we weren’t being put in this situation.” His shoulders remain tense, there’s no release of the pressure he’s holding in.

That’s not what he wants to say.

”Me too.” You put a hand on his arm, there’s no reason to push him right now, not with what’s about to happen. “Why don’t we go lay down?” You drag your hand down his arm to his hand, pulling him towards the makeshift bed. “I have an idea. Why don’t we agree to keep everything that happens during these ‘movies’ in a bubble, a bubble that we don’t touch when we’re outside of it.” 

“What you’re describing doesn’t sound healthy.”

”When we get out of here we can pop that bubble and deal with all of this then, but if we’re going to get through this now, we need to be a team. When we’re filming, we step into the bubble, and inside the bubble we do whatever it takes to survive. And when we’re done filming we don’t have to feel bad about it because we’re outside of the bubble and we can just be two agents working on the case.”

”Definietly not healthy.”

”Do you have a better idea?”

”No, but if you want to talk about what happens in the… bubble, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t just because we agreed to bottle it up.” He makes it sound a lot worse than it did in your head. 

“Okay, okay, it’s like diplomatic immunity, we don’t hold things that happen in the bubble against each other outside of the bubble.” You sit on the blanket, he mirrors you so you’re sitting face to face. 

”That’s an even worse idea, what if I hurt you?”

You laugh, maybe for the first time since you were put in this little concrete box, a real honest laugh.

”You aren’t going to hurt me, Reid. You’re like fifty pounds soaking wet.” Sure he’s tall but he’s still Dr. Reid, you’ve never seen him hurt a fly, actually he very specifically catches bugs and releases them outside when he comes across them. And he looks like a strong wind could blow him over. You’ve heard multiple people call him a pipe cleaner with eyes. 

“It’s not funny.” 

“Obviously, none of this is funny.” You gesture around the room when you speak. “But it’s happening, so if you don’t like my bubble idea then let's just scrap it and do this thing.” 

He’s nodding to himself, you can see him playing with his tie, picking at the fabric. 

”If you say stop I’ll stop.” He mumbles, you watch as he ties a knot, his fingers moving with practiced agility, as they untie it in the same motion. 

”I know Reid.”

”Spencer.”

”What?”

”I don’t like when you call me Reid, it feels… impersonal.” The knot he’s working on tightens. “We’ve been through enough together at this point, you can use my first name.” 

“Okay, Spencer, let’s stop stalling before one of us ends up with a bullet in our head. We put on another good show, he has limited escalation, so let’s do this.” You hold your wrists out like you would if you were about to be handcuffed. He’s just glaring at you expectantly. “Jesus, you’re so particular, and if I say stop you’ll stop.” You mimic his strict tone. It does seem to placate him as he takes your wrist in his hand. You watch with morbid fascination as his fingers trace the veins under your skin.

“I absolutely could hurt you if I wanted to.” He grumbles under his breath as you give him a harsh look.

”Enough joking around.” You scoff and his hand wraps around your wrist, his slender, long fingers easily encircling them as he twists your arm. His free hand darts to your shoulder and with a force you’ve never seen him use before he flips you over onto your stomach, catching your other wrist and pinning both behind your back. 

“I know you think you know everything, but I’d like to remind you that I have several years of experience in the field, as well as extensive training in how to use what strength I do have to the fullest extent.” As he speaks you squirm under him, uselessly, as he wraps the length of his tie around your wrist, one hand holding it in place as the other finds the nape of your neck, firmly holding you down. 

“Not funny, Reid.” You groan as he pushes you down until your face is buried in the pillow. 

“I agree, there is nothing funny about a little girl like you thinking that you can talk to me like that. You might have the knowledge and skillset to back up your arrogance but you don’t have the experience. In or out of the field.” You can’t see what he’s doing but you can feel the fabric tightening as his fingers wrap around them and pull, he’s somehow managed to restrain you with just the one hand. ”This is the first time you’ve ever had to be in a situation where an unsub has control over you and you’re not even acting like a federal agent, you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

His words are clearly having an effect on you as you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

God you’re sick. 

“Can’t even hold your own against someone who’s ‘fifty pounds soaking wet’.” Pulling on your wrists he yanks you up so you’re kneeling, you pull on the bindings, testing them. No matter how you twist they hold tight. 

“You know you can be a real ass sometimes.” You groan, rolling your eyes as you turn your head back to shoot him a glare. 

“You know you drive me fucking crazy.” He leans against you, his breath is hot on your neck as he hisses, you can’t help but sit in stunned silence for a moment, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him curse before. “Do you know how exhausting this last year has been for me? Seeing how you handle yourself on every case? Watching you throw yourself into danger over and over again?”

”Well that’s not fair-”

”Since the day you started, they brought you in and told everyone you were a prodigy in your department, that you were going to be an invaluable asset to the team. And  sure, you were, until we put you in the field and you rushed into every situation. It didn’t matter if your life was at risk, you always had to be a hero. Do you know how hard it is for me to get any work done when I’m constantly worried about you throwing yourself into the line of fire to save someone else?” 

“You can’t seriously be using this as an opportunity to bring up work grievances with me.” You hiss back at him. “What is your problem, Reid?” His hand moves to the front of you, wrapping around your throat, he doesn’t squeeze but he holds it there, a silent reminder of the position you’re in.

”If you call me Reid one more time I’m going to fuck that stubborn little mouth of yours until you get it right. Until the only thing you can say is ‘Spencer.’ Until the only thing you can think about is my name.” He breathes the words out, so soft that for the first time you doubt the cameras even pick it up. If he’s playing it up for the unsub he’s doing an incredible job. 

And all you want to do right now is call him Reid. 

Both of his arms are wrapped around you now, his chest is flush with your back, one hand around your neck, the other drawing mindless shapes across your stomach, up and down towards your chest. 

At this point you don’t even care if he’s just putting on a show for the unsub, you stop yourself from whimpering, clenching your thighs together. You whine as he leans forward. With your hands locked behind your back you can feel him pressing against you, the crotch of his boxers up against your palms. Without thinking you lean back, cupping him, earning yourself a low groan.

”Jesus-“ He gasps out as you start to stroke him through his boxers. The hand around your throat tightens, just enough to remind you of its presence, his other hand floats downward, forcing your thighs apart, he doesn’t dip into your panties yet, instead he simply grazes his fingers across the length of your clothed cunt, when you whine he scoffs. Pulling his fingers back and holding them in front of your face. “Would you look at that?” You can practically hear the smug smirk on his face as you stare at the glistening tips of his fingers. “I have a theory.”

”Oh great.” You let your head fall back against his shoulder so you can see him, sure enough he’s got a shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

“I think that you want to be taught a lesson, I think that you’re acting like this because you want to be reprimanded.”

God, yes. 

“No.”      

“Maybe that’s what you’ve wanted all along, is that why you go against protocol all the time, barging into buildings before we have proper backup? Why you’re constantly disobeying direct orders? You want someone to put you in your place. It’s why you’re in this mess in the first place isn’t it? You were told to go with Emily but you insisted you would get more work done if you split up.” 

He’s like, too good at this, the words flow off of his tongue just like a practiced actor reciting a script. 

“You’re being a dick.” You snap your head back, trying to properly scowl at him but his hand grips your jaw, holding you firmly in place.

”See, even now, look at the situation you’re in. There is no reason for you to be mouthing off right now. We have a consensual agreement to fulfil the unsubs demands and an understanding that I’m going to be rough and talk to you like this. You’re restrained, and in a much worse position than I am, yet you still can’t help yourself.” 

He doesn’t raise his voice at all as he goes on and on, his tone and volume stay almost frighteningly even. As if to prove his point he lightly pushes you forward, without your hands to catch yourself you fall face first into a pillow with a soft thud and a groan. He flips you before you can pull yourself up, staring down at you with a mix of quiet simmering annoyance and something else. 

“The only time I’ve ever seen you not acting like this was when I had my fingers in you and my mouth on you, which confirms my theory.” You want to slap the tight lipped smirk off of his pretty face. You’ve always had such a friendly relationship with him, hearing him talk to you like this sends jolts of electricity through you. 

At this point you’re so caught off guard by his vulgar ranting you just stare at him dumbly, watching as his expression becomes more and more smug. 

Suddenly, you don’t care if this is all some twisted wish fulfillment for a bunch of perverts online from the mind of some sick voyeur. 

You are not going to let him have all the fun, you can play this game too. 

You twist your wrists behind your back, letting your chest arch up, your breasts straining against the fabric of the camisole. 

“Spence…” You let out a breathy moan and watch as he immediately loses his resolve, eyes wide, eyebrows arched, just for a moment before his stern expression returns.

”I would be very careful with whatever you decide to say next, sweetheart.” His hands settle on your thighs, gently pushing them apart. You feel like you’re playing chess with him, and you hate chess with Spencer. He always tells you how he’s going to win two minutes into every game. 

You’ve never beat him.

But this isn’t chess, and you can play dirty. 

You chew on your lip, frowning in the process. 

“Is that really how you feel?” You whisper, your voice cracking and you can tell by the way his face drops that you’ve got him right where you want him. “I thought we were friends, I- I didn’t know I was making your job harder. Does the whole team feel that way? I’m so sorry.” You manage a convincing lip tremble as you stutter your way through your apology, he doesn’t stop you as you pull yourself up and into a sitting position, facing him. 

“I-“ He starts, conflicting emotions crossing his face as you lean forward, batting your eyelashes at him.

“I wouldn’t be so bad if someone held a tighter leash.” You pull on your binds with an overemphasized whiney edge to your voice. “Please don’t be mad at me, you’re right, I need to be reprimanded.” The second he realizes you’re teasing him his brows furrow. “Will you help me, Reid?” 

The anger that flashes across his face almost makes you regret saying it.

Almost.

“You just can’t help yourself.” He clicks his tongue, and the look he gives you is one of fury but he couldn’t sound more pleased. He stands up, you don’t bother trying to as well, without your hands you know it would be useless. “Just remember that you asked for this.” His hands tangle in your hair as he gives you a warning tug, pulling you up from sitting to your knees. 

Asked for it, wanted it, needed it. 

He keeps one hand firmly in your hair, the other grabs your jaw, rougher than he’s been so far. The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Open.” Your initial instinct is to snark back at him but his tone is so deathly calm a part of you automatically responds to the authority. You dart your tongue out, wetting your lips before you open your mouth. The corners of his own lips twitch.

He slides his thumb past your teeth, resting on your tongue, he doesn’t push deep enough to gag you but it certainly isn’t comfortable. 

And then you wait. 

His eyes never leave yours and he doesn’t move, he just stares at you, expectantly. 

Son of a bitch. 

He’s not gonna do anything until you give him what he wants so with a roll of your eyes you close your lips around the digit. Gingerly, you run your tongue along the length, you dare a glance up at him and he gives you a nod, grinning like a cat that finally caught the mouse. 

“Isn’t it so much easier to just follow directions?”

Oh, you could kill him.

Or fuck him, you’d take either option gladly. 

You open your mouth, ready to spit an obscenity at him but his thumb presses down on your tongue and all you can do is groan. 

“Still not enough to keep you quiet?” He raises an eyebrow and removes his thumb, his hand moves to the front of his boxers and you watch with bated breath as those long, delicate fingers trace the outline of the sizeable bulge that you’re now hyper aware of. “Is this what you need? Is this what it’ll take to make you behave?” 

Before you can think of a snarky response, before you can headbutt him in the crotch, and before you can give him the meanest glare you can muster, you lose control of yourself and your stupid body reacts faster than your brain, and you nod.

And his eyes just light up.

You’re never gonna live this down.

With your hands bound the way there are there’s no way for you to touch him, or even steady yourself. Your only anchor is his hand in your hair. It crosses your mind that he really could hurt you right now, there’s nothing you could do to stop it and you doubt the unsub would even want him to stop. He can do whatever he wants to you. 

Why does that make this even hotter? What is wrong with you? 

He never takes his eyes off of you, you can’t remember the last time he looked away, it’s an almost frightening look of concentration on his face as he tilts his head, examining you. You should be afraid. But you aren’t, because even now, in this situation, you know he wouldn’t ever really hurt you. 

And when he’s done with your mouth he’s going to take one look at your cunt and see just how much you love this. 

Behind the bravado, dominance, and faux anger in his expression, behind the show you’re putting on, you can still see that a tiny part of him is searching your face for a sign that you’re really okay with this. 

So you give him one. 

Leaning forward, you press your mouth against the outline of his cock. Peppering a trail of kisses along his length, trying to ignore the fact that the more you feel out this size of him, the less confident you are in your ability to fit him in your mouth. 

His eyes are definitely still on you when you look up at him through your eyelashes, except now you’re rewarded with the dumb look on his face as his mouth falls open. 

You’re caught off guard when he suddenly pulls you away, crouching down, you squeak as he pulls you into a kiss, nipping at you from your mouth to your chin, to your cheek, until you feel a light bite at your earlobe. He nuzzles his face into your hair and you swear you can hear him inhaling sharply  through his nose but your focus shifts when his lips return to your ear. 

“I don’t care what the reason is, if you want me to stop at any point you shake your head no and we will deal with the consequences. Nod if you understand.” He returns to standing leaving you breathless as you nod, probably a little too eagerly.

And without missing a beat he hooks a finger into the waist line of his boxers, tugging them down, effectively freeing himself. 

Oh he’s got a perfect dick.

You’re gonna need so much therapy after this. 

You feel like the last half an hour has just been you and Spencer gawking slackjawed at each other and it’s once again your turn. 

He’s got the kind of dick you see in a porn and think, ‘only pornstars have dicks like that, not regular guys.’ 

Although, Spencer Reid is the furthest thing from a regular guy but that’s besides the point. You’re face to face with the biggest dick you’ve ever seen in person. Pretty and pale with a prominent vein on the underside, you’re shamelessly ogling him at this point, staring at the pink tip as he takes himself in his hand. His free hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushes against your lips once more and this time you don’t need to be told what to do.

You open your mouth and eagerly lean forward as he slides into your mouth. 

You do your best to accommodate his size, flattening your tongue as you watch his head fall back with an obscene groan. 

All you want to hear is make him make that sound. 

You try to move your head forward but it’s awkward without being able to use your hands to balance yourself. You end up taking too much of him at once and you gag, his moan is pornagraphic but he’s quick to pull away as you cough.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, you know he’s trying to speak softly enough to not be heard but you doubt it works. You nod, catching your breath for a moment.

”I think I’m gonna need a little help.” You accentuate your point by pulling on the tie, wiggling your arms. There’s a moment of silence before he nods, once again he takes his cock in his hand, but this time once he’s past your lips you feel both of his hands tangle into your hair. He guides you slowly down his length and you take the opportunity to run your tongue across the vein you’d been eying. With a hiss he pulls you back, until all you’ve got is his tip. 

He’s overly cautious, and surprisingly gently as he pushes your head further down, he makes sure to never push you more than halfway down his length, never gagging you. It’s almost a little boring as he moves your head up and down. He lets out a few small sounds as he gingerly moves your head. You both freeze in place when you hear a click and a crackle from above.

”I thought I made myself clear, you perform or there are dire consequences. Neither one of you looks like you are enjoying yourselves. I told you to take control, I told you to take what you want. Not what makes her comfortable. It is obvious to me that you are exercising a severe amount of restraint Dr. Reid and we both know that is not what I want to see. Now do it right, show me you can make her shine, or I will find someone else who will.” He’s practically snarling into the microphone by the end of his rant, you both cringe in unison at the sound of the click followed by silence. 

When you turn to look at him his eyebrows are practically squeezed together he looks so concerned. 

“Look, Spencer, I’m fine with you doing whatever you have to do. If survival is our goal here-“ As you speak he shoves two fingers into your mouth, effectively silencing you.

”You’re done talking. The next time you speak it’ll be because I asked you to.” You hardly have a second to process what’s happening before he’s squeezing your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he slides his cock back in. His hands find your hair again but instead of moving your head he thrusts himself forward. Your throat tightens, and you gag immediately but this time he pulls back only to rock himself forward again. You let out a garbled whine as he finds a steady pace, he thankfully doesn’t gag you again, careful to go as deep as he can without choking you. 

You can do nothing but watch him as he fucks your mouth, his grip in your hair tightening as he holds you in place. His own hair falling in messy tangles across his face. 

“Look at you, finally quiet.” He groans, snapping his neck back to throw some of his hair out of his eyes as he grins down at you, groaning. 

The effect he has on you is just embarrassing at this point. You’re so turned on you’re about to straddle his foot and grind down against his socks. As you’re considering it he pulls himself out completely, a line of spit hangs from your lips to his cock. He wipes it off your lip with his thumb and taps against your cheek with his tip. 

“I bet you’ll look even better taking the whole thing.” When he pushes himself back against your lips you try to pull back, opening your mouth to protest but he just takes it as an opportunity to shove himself into your mouth as you gasp. “I didn’t give you permission to talk yet sweetheart.” You whine around him as he slides his hips forward another inch. “I know you can do it, just breathe.” He lowers his voice as he pulls your hair, hard. You let out a whimper, and he uses his free hand to brush any hair in your face behind your ears. 

You do your best to relax your throat as you feel him pushing further, you gag when he hits your throat but he doesn’t give so much as an inch of relief as he shushes you in between his groans. 

“Almost, just a little bit more, you need to relax.” 

Easy for him to say he doesn’t have a fucking baseball bat in his throat.

One hand grips your hair so tightly you feel tears prickling the corners of your eyes while the other cradles your face, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. You swallow around him, taking shallow breaths in through your nose as he eases himself in the last inch and your nose hits that little patch of curls at the base of his cock. You gag around him but you’re expecting it so you manage to breathe through it enough that you don’t puke. 

The look on his face makes it worth it. 

Intoxicated.

Sharp little breathes as he fights back a moan, eyes dark and watching with so much intensity you feel like you’re under a microscope. His hair is in disarray and he doesn’t bother fixing it this time. 

“So good, s-such a good job.” He mumbles as his hips twitch involuntarily forward before pulling back a tiny bit. His thrusts are shallow but he stays in your throat. The tears that were forming flow freely now, he wipes a few of them away but they just keep coming. You take a shuddering breath in through your nose, drool dribbling down your chin as you squeeze your eyes shut.

As much as you want to watch his reactions it takes all of your focus to not retch as he fucks your throat. You know you won’t have to last too long because his thrusts become erratic after just a few more seconds and his soft moans turn to out of breath whines. You nose hits his pelvis once more and with a twitch of his hips you feel his cum hit the back of your throat.

You can’t help but steal a few glances, opening your eyes just in time to watch his head fall back, his face and neck flush red. With his cock still stuffed in your mouth you have no choice but to swallow as he comes down from his orgasm. 

Not that you mind all that much. 

When your throat constricts around him he seems to snap back to reality as he quickly withdraws. In one smooth motion he sinks to his knees to come face to face with you. Both hands cup your face and you know you must be a sight. Tears and drool slick on your face, the look of admiration on his face tells you he must not mind that much though. 

“Let me see.” He murmurs, tapping your chin with two fingers. You’re still catching your breath but you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him the wet mess of semen and spit. “Such a good job, look how well you’re behaving now.” You’re caught off guard when he leans forward, his tongue sliding across yours, tasting the mix of the two of you. His hands find your shoulders and he lays you back against a few pillows. “You looked so pretty choking on my cock.” 

Even after everything you’re still surprised to hear him talk like that, it makes your head spin. When you don’t respond he slides his hands down your body until he reaches your panties, he wastes no time pulling them down your legs and tossing them behind him. You start to squeeze your thighs together but you aren’t fast enough, or quick enough to stop him from spreading your legs. 

His eyes practically sparkle. 

Ravaging you with just his stare, eyes consuming, memorizing, every detail between your legs. 

“Look at that.” God, he sounds so pleased with himself. 

He should be, you’re dripping and he hasn’t even touched you there.

”Isn’t that answer enough?” You sneer at him, bucking your hips. The smile he gives you is so genuine you can’t stand it. 

“There you go with that mouth again, can you only behave when you’re stuffed with cock? Do I need to keep you like that permanently? Want me to leave you like that until we’re found? Do you want the rest of the team to barge in here on a rescue mission only to find you drooling on my cock?” His fingers swipe through the wetness between your legs, the squelching sound makes your cheeks burn more than they already are. Your back arches as he sinks two into you, your cunt pulses around him immediately as you start to let out a pornagraphic groan. 

”Shut up.” You try to sit up but a small push from him sends you back into the pillows. He gives you a disapproving shake of his head. 

“I really thought we were making some progress, I guess you still haven’t learned your lesson.” He removes his fingers, rather abruptly, leaving you to whine at the absence. “I was going to be so nice to you too,” You’re getting used to being manhandled at this point, although this time you find yourself in a state of confusion as he sits beside you, lifting you by your hips and placing you in his lap. “I was going to work you open with my fingers to make this easier for you but I guess you don’t want that.” While he speaks you can feel him already hardening again against the swell of your ass. 

“Spencer…” Your tone is that of warning, like you might scold him. 

“Maybe you need another reminder of who’s in charge.” He bucks his hips, forcing you up and onto your knees as you straddle him, he’s quick and precise as he lines himself up at your entrance. Your eyes go wide as you realize what’s about to happen. The tip of his cock slides through your slick, when he bumps against your clit you nearly fall over. With a smirk he lines himself up with your hole, staring at you expectantly. When he tilts his hips and pushes himself into you, you both melt into a chorus of moans. The stretch burns so sweetly, your brain can’t seem to figure out if you want more or less. 

“Spencer, wait- please.” You start to object but he’s already shaking his head. 

“No, sweetheart. I think this is a lesson you need to learn the hard way.” He says it so gently but the glint in his eye tells you he likes this a little too much. 

Almost as much as you do.

”You’ve done so good so far, I know you can do this.” He coos, his hands wander up and down your body from your thighs to just below your chest, you sit up on your knees, impaled on his cock with your thighs already trembling. “I want you to show me how good you can be.” His voice turns to a murmur as he slides a hand under your top. You’re too focused on his monster cock trying to squeeze its way into you to pay attention to the way his hand starts exploring your chest. Slender fingers, cupping your breasts and drawing gentle circles around your nipples. You shift your body down, your thighs tense as you try to slowly lower yourself but you only make it about halfway down his shaft before you can’t take anymore, when you start to lift yourself off of him in an attempt to relieve the stretching feeling he catches your hips, locking you in place. 

“Please-” You start to whine as he holds steady, you squirm to no avail as he shakes his head. 

“You’re not getting up until you show me you can take the whole thing.” You know he means it, there’s no persuading him when you’ve come this far. And he must know a part of you enjoys this, if you didn’t you would outright tell him to stop, you’d shake your head no and he would stop. 

Probably. 

”Spencer…” You whisper his name like you’re begging but you don’t even know what you want, it’s too hard to focus on anything when the burn between your legs fizzles into a warm pleasure with every passing second. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His hair sticks to his forehead, a sheen of sweat coating his body, you likely match. His fingers alternate from tapping your waist frantically and squeezing the flesh of your hips. 

What do you want? 

What you want is to be at home in your own bed, in the exact same situation, with no cameras and no nightmare director watching your every move, and making demands. You want this to be real. 

You want him to buck his hips up and make you take it.

You want to know what he thinks about all of this.

You want him to force you down to the hilt, to make you take all of him.

You want to know if he feels the same guilt that you do for wanting more, and more, and more of this.

You want a copy of this recording before Garcia scrubs it from the internet so you can relive it if Spencer refuses to even look at you after this. 

”I want you.” That’s all you’ve wanted, for so long.

There’s too much sensation. Everything hurts and feels so fucking good and staring down at him doesn’t help. You’re a profiler, and a goddamn good one at that, but staring at his face you don’t get anything. You can’t decipher his body language in any meaningful way, not when your focus is all over the place.                                     

“Show me.” He sounds as fucked as you feel. “Show me how badly you want this.” He pulls his hands back so he isn’t touching you at all, holding them up almost as if he were showing you he isn’t a threat. You could easily sit up and pull yourself off of him but you’re too engrossed with the way his eyelashes flutter as he stares down to the point where the two of you meet. 

You start slow, inching yourself further down him but it hurts too much and you worry you’ll lose your resolve. Instead you look him in the eyes. Watching his tongue poke out of his mouth before he chews his bottom lip. An action you’ve seen hundreds of times at the office, now everytime you see it you’ll think of this. 

“Can you help me stay upright?” You whisper, his hands are hesitant and practically trembling when he returns to your hips. Not the same confidant movements he was displaying before. Once you’re sure he’s got you, you take a deep breath and let your knees give out. Slamming yourself down fully onto his cock. 

You’re pretty sure you scream, it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the pressure against your cervix. When you manage to open your eyes you’re rewarded with such a treat. He’s as gone as you are, his hands flexing, digging into your skin as he bites his own lip so hard you’re worried he’ll bleed. His moans are muffled as he tries desperately to keep his mouth shut but what does slip through is delicious. 

You feel a sense of pride. 

You’re still catching your breath when he shifts himself up and on to his elbows. 

“You want me?” He sounds as needy as you feel right now. 

And all you can do is nod. 

When he lifts your hips and pulls out you whimper, the sensation of relief doesn’t make up for the lack of him. 

He’s gentle as he guides you rather than forces you this time down into a pillow. You’ve got your ass in the air and your face turned to the side so you can still see him in your peripheral vision. 

You’re expecting him to slam into you, to immediately find a punishing pace. You’re surprised when his body wraps around yours and he kisses the back of your neck, moving down your spine until he hits your lower back and sits up. 

He wordlessly lines himself back up at your entrance, and you keen when he pushes himself in, inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed within you once more. Your groan is long and drawn out as you readjust to his size. In this position he somehow feels even bigger, like he’s in your fucking stomach. 

“Jesus-” Your breath catches in your throat when he grabs you by your shoulders, pulling you back against him, somehow managing to push himself deeper. Making you feel every single inch.

“That’s not the name I want to hear.” With a snap of his hips he pulls out about halfway before thrusting fully back into you. 

“Spencer!” You’re so full, too full. 

“There it is.” He mumbles under his breath before he starts rocking his hips back and forth, experimentally shifting from quick shallow thrusts to slow long ones. Both make you bury your head in the pillow to stifle your moans. His hands stay locked on your shoulders, yanking you back against him with each thrust, pulling you closer to him. He eventually settles himself into shallow thrusts, pulling out halfway before snapping forwards, grinding himself against you, making you feel every inch. 

Slow and steady, he folds himself over you. Resting his forehead on your back as you lay there and take everything he gives you. With every thrust he brushes along that sweet spot that makes you see stars before slamming against your cervix. 

And then he fucking whimpers your name. 

Out of breath and desperate.

“Say it again, say my name.” He kisses you between your shoulder blades before latching onto your pulled back shoulder, sucking and nipping at the skin. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him when he’s asking so nicely?

With every snap of his hips you groan out the only thing you can think, over and over and over again.

“Spencer, Spence- Spencer, please.” You’re not sure when it started but you’re suddenly extremely aware of the knot forming in your core as your thighs tremble. With each jolt of his hips you’re pushed closer and closer to that edge, until all you can think about is him. His hands on your shoulders, on your hips, wrapping around you to paw at your chest, like he can’t decide on one so he has to alternate through them. His breath, hot on your back where he leaves kisses in between his moans. His cock, pulling out just enough to push your buttons so perfectly he must be doing it on purpose. 

Closer, and closer, and closer. 

Until you feel yourself nearing the point of no return, and in an instant all the sensation is gone. You don’t bother with your dignity because at this point it’s nonexistent, instead you whine and push your hips back. 

His hands are back on you, forcing you onto your back, your hands trapped under you as he flips you. His forehead is slick with sweat and you can see the sweet shade of pink flushing his neck and face, devastatingly pretty. 

“Spen-” You start to plead with him but he’s already on it, cock in hand as he eases himself back into the wet mess between your legs, in this position you can see the slick coating your thighs, you don’t get much time to watch his cock disappear into you because he’s on you like a predator on prey. His lips are all consuming on yours. He’s absolutely devouring you, biting at your bottom lip, darting his tongue into your mouth, you can’t resist the opportunity to suck his tongue. 

 God, you’re a goner. 

He finds the same pace, shallow thrusts, your body jerking with each one. Fucking into you with a brutal consistency, every thrust leaves you wanting more. It almost feels like he can read your mind when one of his hands drifts between your legs, his pointer and middle finger find your clit so fast you’d think he had a map to get there, rubbing circles in time with each snap of his hips. 

“Spencer…” At this point you’re running out of other words to say, he clearly meant it when he said all you’d be able to think about was his name, that’s certainly the case now as he coaxes your body towards an orgasm with surgical precision.  

“Do you understand why I have to do this, sweetheart?” He separates his lips from yours, nose to nose as he mumbles, when you get a good look at his face you know he’s just as fucked as you are. But his fingers have stopped their movements and all you can concentrate on is how badly you need them to start again.

You nod furiously, you’d say anything if it would make him start touching you again.

“T-to teach me a lesson, to make me behave.” It takes you a second but you manage to get through your sentence before he laughs, burying his face in your neck

“You’re a profiler, you can do better than that.” 

Does he want you to state the obvious?

“Because you don’t want him to be mad?” You know you sound unsure but you don’t care, all you can think about is his fingers dipping back between your legs. You try to rock yourself against him for any stimulation at all but his fingers squeeze your hips so tight you know you’ll have bruises there. 

“You’re so sweet.” His teeth graze your jaw, dragging down the side of your neck before he bites down, pulling a whine out of you. “So, so, so sweet. You think I care what he thinks?” He kisses the spot before he sits up, one hand on your hip and the other rubbing the mark he left. “Yours is the only opinion that matters to me.” 

He grinds himself against you, as if you’re not already full of him. 

“He said he’ll find someone else.” He’s all mumbles now. “But there’s no one else, just me, right sweetheart?” Sweet, breathy mumbles. 

“You’re not- oh my god, making any sense.” Nothing makes sense right now, not when he’s starting to thrust into you again, thrusts so shallow he’s practically just grinding his hips against yours. Like he’s trying to force himself as deep as he can, bruising you even where no one can see.

”I hate that he’s right about you.” He catches your lips in his as you start to open your mouth again, his fingers brush up against your thigh as you groan into him. He pulls away just long enough to mumble, like he’s overflowing with the words and has to get them out. “I’ve seen everything he describes, I thought it all before he ever put it into words.” His nose bumps against yours as he rambles, thrusts becoming erratic as he finally puts his focus back on your clit. “The way you shine, and sparkle, and light up a room.” 

“Spencer, I don’t-” You don’t know when you started crying again but you sure are now. Overstimulation, confusion, pleasure, you aren’t sure what brought it on. 

“I’m gonna make you light up, you- you don’t need anyone else.” His eyes are shut tight, his eyebrow twitching as he focuses. His ramblings don’t make any sense as he babbles on and on, lost in his concentration. 

“Spencer…” You softly hiss out his name as your stomach twists, he pushes hard on your clit as he continues his merciless patterns. 

It feels like you’re being electrocuted in the most addicting way possible, you twitch around him, you push your head back into the pillow supporting you as your back arches off the ground. The wave finally crashes over you as you come, hard. You clamp around him like a vice and he’s quick to follow. You aren’t fully aware of the immediate aftermath but you know he’s groaning something akin to your name as he collapses on top of you. 

You lay in a sweaty, panting heap for what feels like hours before he sits up. Both of you groan softly when he slips out of you. His touch on you is so light and cautious you’d think you were made of glass. His nimble fingers easily release the tie from around your wrists, you wince in pain as the blood rushes back to your hands. When you bring them in front of you, rubbing them gingerly you can see the raw red marks as well as the dark purple splotches starting to bloom around your wrists like sadistic bracelets. 

“I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, taking your wrist in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the mark. “I got carried away, I- I shouldn’t have.” You put your fingers over his mouth. 

“No apologies.” You lower your hand. “Neither one of us should be apologizing for anything that happens here, we’re alive and together because of you.” You’re about to continue but the buzz of the intercom snaps you both to attention. 

There’s only a moment of static before you hear a sniffling sound, it makes you stare at Spencer, both of you with eyebrows cocked in confusion. 

“Are you crying?” You can’t help yourself as you blurt it out, the absurdity of the situation still finds ways to shock you. 

“It was just such a beautiful performance.” He coughs, clearing his throat. “Thank you Dr. Reid, that was just what I was looking for.” You’re both surprised when the speaker clicks again and you’re left alone. The room dims back down to a single bulb, plunging you both into darkness. When the lock on the red door clicks again he stands, you avert your eyes as he straightens his boxers out to cover himself back up. You only look up when he tosses your panties to you. Neither one of you seems inclined to speak but he does help you to your feet, supporting you as you limp to the bathroom. Once he props you up in the shower he steps out, you know he’s right outside, waiting. 

You run the water, taking your second shower of the day. You rinse the sweat from your skin, carefully running your hand between your legs, hissing when you touch yourself there. 

You’re definitely going to be sore for a while. 

You finish up, toweling off and putting your top and panties back on but not before stealing a glance at yourself in the mirror. 

Yikes. 

No wonder Spencer’s so quiet. Your wrists are a sight but that’s nothing compared to the rest of you. When your cami hikes up you can see a myriad of bruises, up and down your waist and hips. Purple blooming all over your form, further down your thighs are a similar sight. He really did a number on you. You do your best to adjust your top so they cover everything on your torso as well as some of your upper thighs. He’s standing right beside the doorway when you step out. 

“Your turn.” You give him the best smile you can muster as he slips past you but you know it doesn’t convince him you’re okay. 

Are you okay?

Sort of. 

You’re sore, a little bruised, and tender between your legs, sure. You’re confused, by everything Spencer says to you, in and out of the scenes you’re performing. But overall, surprisingly fine. And you can thank Spencer for that. 

If you’d been stuck here with Hotch, or Morgan, or heaven forbid a stranger, you’d likely find yourself in much worse condition. Hotch and his overly seriousness. Everything is so serious and life or death with him, and then of course there’s the guilt he would feel, never ending guilt. And Morgan’s been like a big brother to you since the day you met him, even imagining intimacy with him makes your skin crawl. A part of you can’t help but be glad it’s Spencer, even if this has complicated your already complex relationship. 

You’re okay, mostly. 

You’ll be better when you aren’t being forced to follow the whims of some obsessed sexual psychopath, but you’re okay. 

You just have to hope he’s okay too. 

When he finally steps out of the bathroom he’s mopey. 

That’s the only word you can think of to describe him.

He isn’t exhibiting signs of anger, or depression. He isn’t twitching like he does when he’s anxious, he doesn’t even seem to be guilt ridden, he just seems… bothered. You give him space, after what the two of you just did it’s entirely justifiable, natural even, to need space. You bury yourself in the blankets, staring at the ceiling for forever. 

Until he joins you, bringing you a water bottle that you happily accept. 

It’s hard to remember you’re thirsty when you’re dealing with a million other far more pressing matters. He lays down beside you, rolling over to stare at you, eventually you mirror him. So you’re both on your sides, face to face.

You don’t need to be a profiler to know something is eating him up inside. You’re about to ask, you’ll force it out of him if you have to. He beats you to it. Wetting his lips with his tongue and chewing the inside of his cheek before he speaks. 

“You’re… a really great actress.” He whispers into the darkness. You can see the crest fallen look on his face the second the words leave his mouth.

That’s it?

That’s what he took away from all of this? That’s why he’s sulking? That’s why he got all quiet and sullen and pouty before you had sex? Your eye twitches, you should just roll over and go to sleep instead your mouth opens before you can stop it. 

“You’re so stupid.” You can’t help yourself as you roll your eyes. 

“Excuse me?” He sounds genuinely offended but you just scoff.

“You heard me. For someone who’s so smart you really are an idiot.” You scowl at him. Is that the best he can do? Some self loathing about how you might have been acting? You’ve been carrying the guilt of having feelings for him, and enjoying parts of this and that’s the best he can do? “Genius Doctor Reid, you’re supposed to be the brightest mind in the whole bureau and you can’t even figure this out.” Staring at the dumbfounded look on his face all you can think about is how despite this all he’s still your Spencer, no matter how much he’s put through. 

He is still the guy who makes you coffee for every plane ride, the guy who has an extra shirt if you forgot to put your pajamas in your go bag, the guy who looks confused and asks Morgan what’s so funny when they tease you about your crush. 

Tell him.

Who cares, after everything you’ve been through in the last forty eight hours? The damage to your relationship is done, you lose nothing if this goes wrong. 

“You’re being unnecessarily cruel.” He looks so genuinely upset. You inch yourself closer to him. Until your noses are almost touching, your hand wanders across his face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. 

“Everything that’s happened to us is unnecessarily cruel.” You mumble before closing the distance between the two of you, crashing your lips into his.

“keep talking like that and i’ll go soft,” suguru says, but judging from the way his hand speeds up, you think it might be the opposite. 

satoru grins wide, all teeth and arrogance, as he pulls you up. he sits facing his phone and drags you onto his lap, your back against his chest, legs spread over one of his muscled thighs. “don’t act like a virgin. i know you want a closer look. and she wants you to look, don’t you?” 

you squirm as you feel the rough denim of satoru’s jeans press against your bare, sensitive pussy and try to hide your face in his neck. but your awful boyfriend only chuckles low, forcing your hips to grind forward. “aw, baby, don’t be like that. suguru’s just jealous over there, pumping his cock like it’s his only friend left. right?” 

suguru’s breath stutters and he reaches over to adjust the phone for a better angle on himself, his fist wrapped tight around his thick shaft, sliding up and down with deliberate pumps. “you talk too fucking much. just get on with it.” 

satoru laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back as he rocks your pussy harder against his thigh, the friction building slick heat between your legs. your clit drags over the seam of his jeans, sending jolts of pleasure that makes you whimper softly, mortified that suguru can hear every wet slide. 

“see that, suguru?” your boyfriend purrs. “she’s soaking my pants already. ride it harder, baby—grind that pretty pussy on me. tell him how good it feels. or are you too embarrassed? come on, moan for the camera.” 

you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck, but satoru’s fingers dig in, forcing a rhythm back and forth and back and forth, your folds parting around the hard muscle. 

you shudder out his name. “this feels…”

“that’s it, sweets,” he drags out sweetly, nipping the lobe while his other hand slides up to pinch your nipple through your shirt.  “fuck my thigh like you mean it. look at suguru, baby—his dick’s leaking just from watching you. bet he wishes he could feel this juicy cunt instead of his own hand. right, suguru? admit it, you’re hard as fuck for my girl.” 

suguru grunts, his strokes audible now, fist slick with his own pre-cum. “you’re such a dick, satoru. bet you cum from your own dirty talk.” 

knowing just how desperate your boyfriend can get, you whine as the pleasure coils tight. your pussy clenches around nothing as you rut faster, clit throbbing against satoru’s jeans. 

“w-wait,” you manage through your gasps, humiliated how loud your slick sounds are, how suguru’s watching every desperate grind. “oh, fuck—it’s too much!”

satoru smirks at the phone, his thigh flexing up to rub harder against your swollen lips. “hear that? that’s how she sounds when she’s close. but you’re not getting there, baby, not yet. slow down—tease yourself for him. show suguru how you edge that pussy on my leg.”

he stills your hips just enough to make you whine in protest, hands closing around his biceps in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“fuck you, satoru,” suguru groans, but his hand doesn’t stop, twisting around his cockhead with a wet schlick. “let her cum. you’re dragging this out.” 

“jealous much?” satoru shoots back, then turns his attention back to you, murmuring in your ear. “want more? you’re gonna have to work for it. come here, face me and get on all fours.” 

he doesn’t wait for you to move, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and tugging them open just enough to free his thick cock. it springs out, hard and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum as he gives it a lazy stroke. 

you do not need to be told twice. 

“come on, crawl over and wrap your pretty lips around me. show suguru how you do it.” 

you turn and crawl up his legs, ass lifted for the camera, thighs parting slightly to expose your dripping folds, the cool air hitting your heated skin. 

satoru leans back on his hands as you take over stroking him, kissing the length of it. “open your mouth, let me see your tongue.”

you part your lips, tongue flicking out to lap at the salty bead on his tip before taking him in, hollowing your cheeks as you suck. 

he groans, thrusting shallowly to hit the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes water. one of your hands reaches back between your thighs, fingers sliding through the mess of slick and drool, circling your clit before dipping into your entrance with a soft squelch. 

distantly, you hear suguru curse. 

your fingers work your pussy in rhythm, plunging in and out, thumb rubbing your swollen clit as juices coat your hand and trickle down your thigh. 

“shit, look at her.” suguru’s breath hitches audibly, his strokes turning rougher, cock twitching in his grip. “ass up like that, fingering herself while she’s slurping on your dick. you’re a bastard for this, satoru, but fuck if it isn’t working.”

satoru chuckles before breaking into a soft moan. “yeah? bet you’re leaking just watching. hear that—ngh—sound? that's her creaming on her own fingers because my cock’s got her that desperate. go on, baby—moan around my cock. tell suguru how much you love sucking me off, how you’re throbbing for it.” 

he pulls your hair tighter, holding you steady as he grinds deeper and deeper, the head of his dick pulsing against his tongue. 

your mouth works satoru’s dick with desperate suction, tongue swirling around the thick shaft as you bob deeper, gagging on the length that fills your throat. saliva drips down your chin while your fingers plunge relentlessly into your soaked pussy, chasing your own high. your ass stays high, thighs spread wide for the phone, letting suguru watch every clench of your walls and every glide of your thumb over your throbbing clit. 

pleasure builds in your core, your body trembling on the edge, but satoru’s breaths turn ragged, his hips stuttering as he grips your hair tighter. 

“fuck, baby—slow down,” satoru grunts, voice rough and strained, his cock swelling against your tongue. before you can double down, he yanks you off with a wet pop, your lips leaving him shiny and slick, strings of spit connecting you to his pulsing head. 

you gasp for air, spluttering. “why?”

satoru strokes himself once, twice, eyes flicking to the phone, where suguru’s face is flushed, his own fist flying over his cock. 

suguru seems to catch onto what you don’t because he suddenly says, “wait, don’t stop—let me see her cum, satoru, you asshole—”

“night, suguru. enjoy the blue balls.” satoru grins, leaning forward and around you to end the call with a wet finger. 

he tosses the phone aside, not giving it another glance, and hauls you up by your arms like you weigh nothing. he drops back into the bed and pulls you up onto his lap, your pussy clenching empty now that your fingers are gone. “did you like that, sweets?” he coos, though he knows the answer, if your state is any indication. 

“that was mean.” you pout, squirming. “he was going to cum.”

“i’m not letting anyone see you cum.” his hands slide down to your hips, lifting you over his cock. “up you go, ride me proper.”

he lines you up, the broad head nudging your dripping entrance and making you whine in anticipation. 

you sink yourself down with a sharp cry, his thickness stretching you wide, filling every inch until your ass meets his lap, buried to the hilt. the burn of the stretch mixes with relief, your walls fluttering as he wastes no time—thrusting hard, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. 

satoru grabs your wrists, guiding your hands to the headboard above. “hold on tight, baby, i’m not going to be able to slow down.”

you obey, fingers curling just in time as he starts fucking up into you in earnest. 

his hips snap upward with brutal force, cock dragging against your inner walls, hitting deep with each drive. your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples hard and aching in the cool air, while your pussy gushes around him, coating his shaft and balls with your arousal. 

“ah—fuck! satoru, you’re so deep,” you moan, body jolting, the headboard creaking under your grip. 

he angles his hips just right, grinding against that spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyes, his free hand sliding up to pinch your nipple, twisting it until you arch your back. sweat slicks your skin, the room smelling of sex and sweat, but he doesn’t let up—pounding relentlessly, his voice dropping low and filthy as words spill out. 

“god, look at you, taking my cock like a greedy little slut—your pussy’s sucking me in so tight. you’re so fucking wet. bet you loved putting on that show for suguru, didn’t you? fingering that wet hole while he jerked off to you. but now it’s all mine, baby—gonna fill you up, pump you full of cum.” 

you feel him throb harder inside you, his thrusts growing more erratic as his own voice turns him on more. you submit yourself completely, falling into his chest and letting him bear hug you, burying his face in your neck and inhaling ferally. 

“fuck yeah—imagine suguru hearing you scream my name right now, knowing he can’t have this tight pussy wrapped around him.” satoru’s breath hitches, his grip around you tightening. 

“gonna cum?” you stutter, meeting his thrusts. 

he nods frantically, a whiny tilt entering his tone. “so fucking much, baby, oh god. gonna cum so hard for you.” 

with a guttural groan, he slams up one last time, burying deep as he cums hard. hot spurts flood your pussy, coating your insides, his body shuddering beneath you while he rides out the waves, still muttering praises between clenched teeth. 

“that’s it, take it all,” he rasps, hips jerking shallowly to push it in deeper, your walls clenching around him in response, drawing out his release until he’s spent panting into your hair. “god, you kill me every time.” 

you let out a breath, slumping into him fully. “think suguru is still mad?” 

your boyfriend chuckles weakly. “i gave him some real life material. he should be grateful if anything.”

his phone pings on time and satoru groans, fumbling around the sheets until his fingers close around it. he holds it up and you tilt your head over your shoulder to see. 

there’s a single notification. 

suguru: involve me

you turn. he’s still in the doorway, but his eyes have that look—the one he gets when he’s been thinking too hard about something and finally decided what to do about it. you cross the room slowly. he meets you halfway, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his.

“you’ve been doing everything today,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. “tying your shoes. making breakfast. carrying your own bag. i didn’t stop you. but i need to know why.”

you rest your forehead against his collarbone. “i don’t know. i just wanted to feel like i could handle things. without you doing everything for me.”

he’s quiet for a moment. then his hands slide down to your ass, gripping you firmly, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. he carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, laying you down on your stomach, his body already covering yours.

“you can handle things,” he says against the back of your neck, his voice low and rough. “i know that. but you don’t have to.” his hands are already working your jeans down your hips, yanking your panties with them. “you don’t have to do anything when i’m here. that’s the point.”

you feel him shift behind you, hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesn’t wait. doesn’t tease. just pushes inside in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you gasping into the mattress.

“choso—”

“shut up,” he snaps, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you harder. “you wanna act like you don’t need me? fine. but you’re gonna take this cock like its the only thing you need.”

his hips snap forward, burying him deeper, and you moan, your fingers fisting the sheets. “you were so fucking stubborn this morning. tying your own shoes like i wasn’t right there. making that shitty cereal like i didn’t already have something ready for you. what the fuck was that?”

you whimper, your body rocking with every thrust. “i just—i wanted—”

“you wanted to be difficult,” he growls, his hand sliding around to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs shake. “you wanted to prove something. but look at you now. face down, ass up, dripping all over my cock because you can’t even pretend you don’t need me.” his pace is brutal, each thrust punching a moan out of you. “say it. tell me how badly you need me.”

“i- i need you,” you gasp. “cho, please—”

“that’s right,” he pants, his voice dark and mean. “you need me. you need me to fuck you like this because you can't make yourself cum as good as i can. but you’re still my good girl, aren’t you? my perfect little princess who just needed to be reminded who she belongs to.” his fingers work faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and you’re so close you can barely think. “cum for me. cum on this cock like the needy slut you are. show me how much you need it.”

you cum with a broken moan, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking. he fucks you through it, his pace relentless, his hand still working your clit until you’re sobbing into the pillow. only then does he let himself go, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he fills you.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.

“now,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep. “are you gonna be good and let me take care of you?”

you press a kiss to his chest, your body still humming. “okay.”

he kisses the top of your head. “atta girl.”

wife : @sadisticslut666