👨🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏾

Ever since that day with the Russians, getting tortured, gassed with "truth serum", and then finding out that his co-worker was a lesbian, Steve's very foundation of what he thought he was came into question. Did he really like girls exclusively? At first, it was a simple question to answer, because, of course, he did. Of course, he liked girls and girls only. But then, he met you. 

An eccentric regular at Family Videos, always coming in on the dot on Saturday, just before closing time. 

You and your stupid grin, you and the way you practically flaunted yourself around him. Did you do it on purpose? No, of course not, but that didn't stop Steve from eyeing you up the same way he's done with all the attractive girls in his life—the same way he'd stare at Nancy when she looked just a little too pretty for everyone else to see. 

You were good-looking, from the way you dressed to the way your hair looked to the way you acted. For the first time, Harrington wasn't so sure he was only attracted to girls anymore. What was even worse was that you were much older than him, you looked like you were in your late 20s at least, and with the job you mentioned off-handedly to him, he was sure of his estimation.

Robin clocked him almost immediately, catching him staring at you when you were busy rummaging through your bag for coins because you loved paying exact amounts. 

God, you were so hot. 

You came in today again, and before you even came in, Robin ditched Steve, slapping him on the back and reminding him, “The storage room’s pretty spacious, why don’t ya shoot your shot and work your Harrington magic on him?”

And that was all the encouragement he needed. It wasn’t as if you and Steve didn’t have anything underlying. He saw the way you looked at him, too, sometimes eyeing him up shamelessly, eye-fucking him practically. He just hoped he wasn’t seeing things. The door opened, and the cool breeze from the outside came in, sending shivers down his spine. Yeah. The wind. Not you.

You came in, looking as handsome as ever, with enough sex-appeal ghat made Steve wonder how you haven’t gotten into modeling for all those male lingerie magazines he jacked off to—

Anyways.

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he smiled, “Back again, [L/N], what are you looking for today?” 

You mirrored his smile and took a moment to look around, hands in your pockets, casually. “I actually have a specific movie I’m looking for,” you turned to him, almost fluttering your eyelashes, looking at him with eyes lidded. Or maybe Steve really was seeing things. 

“Yeah? What’s it called? Maybe we have it in stock,” Steve brushed off his thoughts and leaned against the counter, eyes trailing over your figure. You look like you just came from your job, still in uniform, usually you were already changed out of it.

“It’s called 'Another Country'? I think?"

Oh.

Holy shit.

Steve's heart skips a beat as he hears the name of the movie. He cleared his throat.

Did that mean he had a chance? Maybe he should shoot his shot after all.

To disguise his growing nervousness, he put on a smirk and tapped on the counter. "I think we might have it... Maybe you wanna come check the back with me? Robin left early today."

"I wasn't aware customers were allowed at the back?" You raised a brow at the proposal, putting back a random CD you were checking out. 

Steve shrugged, pushing off from the counter and sauntering his way around the cashier and towards you. "I'm making an exception," you take note of how his voice lowers, as if he were whispering a secret to you. As if he were flirting. "I mean, it makes sense, right? You're a regular here, why not?"

That draws a small chuckle from your lips, crossing your arms as you thought about it for a bit. "What other benefits do regulars get here other than being allowed in the back?"

Shit. Were you flirting back? Steve wracked his brain, swallowing thickly as he kept going. No turning back now.

"I could show you..."

From that, you were led to the store's storage room, and immediately, his hands were on you, pressing you against a wall. Steve didn't really think straight; he just knew he wanted you, and he'd thrown out every last bit of shame he had. However, you didn't pull away in disgust. Instead, you returned the kiss, groaning against him as you allowed him to make out with you, even opening your mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and explore the new territory.

His hands find their place under your work shirt, too tight against your frame—no wonder you looked twice as hot today. He slides it upward, you hum in response, spurring him on. 

You moan into his mouth as you feel Steve's hands brush over your nipples. At that, the younger male pulls away briefly, just enough to stare at you. He pants, each ragged breath you could feel against your face. "This uh... is one of the benefits." His face is so flushed, he looks endearing.

"I see... is that all then? You make out with your regulars here?" You tease with a chuckle, still out of breath from the intense encounter.

Steve bites his lip, tugging at your shirt again, already ridden up to your armpits. "If you want, we can keep going." In truth, Steve didn't even know how to do this. Everyone he's ever hooked up with has been a woman. He knew how to please women, but other men? That's new territory.

His eyes fall to your lips as he catches you smirking.

As if reading his mind, you take off your shirt for him and take his hands, placing them over your chest. He sucks in a breath, his thumbs automatically brushing against your hardened nipples, drawing out a soft moan from your lips. "Is this your first time with a man?"

Steve's usually composed, but when you ask, he sputters, "Well—yeah..."

"Hm," you hum in a pleasantly surprised manner, "I wouldn't have guessed that from how eager you were just then."

He chuckles, looking you up and down again. "Can you blame me?"

You shake your head. "But you're not a virgin, are you?"

Steve shakes his head as well, "Not one bit."

"Good, you'll be easy to teach." 

You and Steve stripped down, and when you do, your eyes widen as you see just how big Steve is fully erect. That'd be the largest cock you'd take in your whole life. You clench your ass at the thought. You were absolutely ready to get absolutely pounded by his dick. 

Steve shamelessly checked you out as well, licking his lips like a parched man in a hot day.

And he was parched. He was thirsty for you.

When you turned around, Steve gripped your hips,  leaning down to kiss your shoulder as he pressed his bare body against yours. "Do I just... put it in?" He asks oh so innocently. You shake your head.

"We can't go in dry."

Steve frowns at that. "Then ho—"

"Eat me out."

"Oh."

Without another word, Steve drops to his knees, spreading your ass cheeks and making you widen your stance, holding onto the wall to balance yourself. He buries his face in your ass, and you feel his hot tongue prodding at your ring of muscle. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease his way in, though not entering fully. 

The sensation—despite Steve's lack of experience—gets you off, and you feel that familiar heat starting to build. 

Sloppily, he coats your hole with his saliva, eager to get you as lubed up as he can. You moan freely, eyes fluttering shut as you press your ass against him as he preps you real good. He's a natural, it's almost scary, if not thrilling.

Soon enough, he has you gasping as he tests the waters and prods his tongue inside you. The moment he does, you swear you feel something close to nirvana. Just like you mouth, he explores your ass hole, silently, you thank God you haven't eaten much and have yet to eat dinner. He moans against you, the vibration it makes causing you to arch your back as you grow more sensitive to his every action.

You pant against the wall, already feeling a train in your legs. You reach over and tug at Steve's hair, "Mm... I think that's enough, Harrington..." You swallow thickly, whimpering as he pulls away, reluctant but happy to obey you.

He stands up, once again holding onto your hips with one hand as the other aligns his dick with your now prepped hole. You can hear him take a breath; you know by now the silent question he was asking and the encouragement he was seeking. "Go slow, okay? Take your time going in." You bite your lip, eyes opening as you gaze at him over your shoulder. 

Steve presses his face into your neck and kisses you, nodding at your instructions as he slowly pushes in. His tip is the hardest to get in; he's as thick as he is long, and that excites you. When hefinally pops in, your lips part as a throaty moan leaves your lips. 

He barely holds himself back at the sound you, you can feel his hands grip your hips harder, his lips against your throat, kissing and groaning. His cock slowly slides in further, stretching you out. Steve's saliva does little to help, but at this point, you didn't care for proper foreplay. Had you taken him home, you would have shown him the right way to get a man ready for a good pounding.

Soon, his cock is deep enough that his tip presses against your prostate. You gasp, legs shaking as you barely hold yourself steady. 

"Fuck, Steve, ahhh...~ you're doing so good—mmmh~" you praise him, he starts thrusting in response. 

Inch after inch, he forces more of his length into you. He keeps groaning against your neck as you get tighter with every thrust. Your lips stay open, each time his cock goes in deeper, you moan louder. Your hand goes down to stroke yourself, adding to your pleasure. There's that hazy feeling again, the room smells like sex, the air is hot, and all you can smell is Steve's musky cologne. 

You don't even know if he's bottomed out yet as he starts thrusting into you harder, pressing you against the wall, cold against your hot skin. He huffs, pulling away from your neck as he slides out, making you whine at the loss. 

"Wha...—" before you can even speak, Steve turns you around, hands behind your knees as he lifts you. In shock, you wrap your arms around him to steady yourself. Then he slides his cock back in easily. This time, you know he's all the way in, a slight bulge in your stomach—your body adjusting just to fit his massive size, your eyes roll back as he gets back to business. You let your head lol back against the wall.

The sound of skin slapping against skin overwhelms you so much that you can barely register how loud you and Steve are being now. 

"You're better than any girl I've—hah! mmmh!~ f-fucked before..." He sounds desperate, mirroring his sloppy thrusts as he nears his orgasm. You clench your ass, tightening around him and making Steve moan with you.

You feel your own orgasm approaching, and you hold him closer. "Ah! Steve... cum—aaahh~ cum inside me."

Driven by your request, Steve starts pounding your hole even harder, his rhythm lost as he focuses solely on getting you and himself off. He just wants to cum inside you, make you proud and full of his seed.

With one final and deep thrust inside you, he unloads a hot, thick burst of semen inside you, flooding your depths and making you feel so full.

You reach your climax not long after, your cock making a mess of both your and Steve's stomachs. 

"Fuck, Steve," you chuckle, mind still hazy as you come down from your high. 

The brunette buries his face in your neck again, his hot breath against your equally hot skin. He doesn't say anything, just holding you up against the wall, his cock already softened by now. He doesn't care. He can't bring himself to.

BONUS SHORT

“Damn...” Currently, you were on your knees, in front of Steve with his dick practically poking your nose, and he was huge.

Robin really wasn’t joking when she told you about Harrington’s… dick size. You gulped. You didn’t even need to jerk him off to full size; he came into work all stiff and trying to hide his crotch. And no wonder, even his apron couldn’t hide the massive bulge his boner made. 

“Just—hurry up already.” Steve, in his embarrassed state, couldn’t be less than the opposite of who everyone knew Harrington was. His hair was disheveled, he was sweaty, and he looked so damn pretty.

But that only spurred you on to tease him more. How could you not? Having the world’s straightest man in a random stall, showing his dick off to you, and letting you suck off? You didn’t even know how you managed to get here, but all your thoughts were on Steve and his massive cock you were about to blow. 

You wrapped your hand around his cock, just barely gripping it without squeezing him. You pressed your lips against his tip, and you heard him shudder. 

It turns you on as well, using your other hand to palm your own growing erection, a puff of air leaving your nose at the much-needed friction. You then press your tongue against his slit, prodding at it as you use your hand to stroke his base. You hear him groan above as he grips the wall behind him; the stall rattles just slightly.

You hum and engulf his cockhead with your mouth, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue. He's so damn excited... you'd have to thank Robin for getting you a job here and for introducing you to the infamous Harrington. You sucked gently, unhurriedly bobbing your head as you think more of Steve's dick into your mouth. In response, you hear him moan as his fingers thread through your hair, pushing your head down, all impatient.

In turn, you took more of his cock, relaxing your throat as you felt him reach the back. You tried your best to hold back on your gag reflexes as suddenly, his hips buck into your, shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You choke, but Steve's too busy moaning into his hand—barely muffling him—and forcing you to take his entire length and girth. 

Despite practically choking on Steve's massive cock, you couldn't help but get turned on even more, undoing your own shorts and jerking yourself off with your free hand.

"Fuck, fuck..." Steve whispered, gripping your hair as he fucked into your mouth now. You could feel his cock pulsing, twitching as it was ready to burst. You prepared yourself mentally for the load you were about to take, because no way were you risking getting any of Steve's cum on your uniform, even if the thought sounded so sexy.

Hoping to cum at the same time as him, you jacked yourself off twice as fast, matching the speed of his thrusts as your other hand holds on to Steve's hip. 

Then, finally, Steve reaches his climax, and you feel a hot burst of cum flood your mouth, forcing its way down your throat as you try your best to swallow. Some cum escaped the sides of your mouth. Meanwhile, you came not long after, your own cum soiling the bathroom floor. How the hell were you gonna clean up without people seeing you? You didn't know. But neither did you care.

You just gave head to Steve Harrington, you just suffocated on his cock. In your daze, you barely even notice that Steve was tugging your head off of his cock. You opened your eyes and stared up at Steve, hazy with pleasure still. 

Steve huffs, clearing his throat as he reaches a hand down and swipes away the cum on the side of your lips. You lean against his touch. "Thanks..." He's breathless as he speaks.

Looks like Robin's getting another score on the leaderboard.

Steve exhales, something in his chest loosening at the sight of her. Anchor secured. And then he sees you.

You’re across the room near the kitchen island, half-lit by a single overhead bulb that flickers just enough to be irritating. You’re leaning back against the counter with one hip braced casually, red cup dangling from your fingers.

You’re wearing something simple, dark baggy jeans, a fitted top, but it fits you in a way that makes his stomach dip before he can stop it.

There’s a guy standing too close. Steve doesn’t recognise him. That bothers him more than it should.

The man is angled fully toward you, posture attentive, one hand planted on the counter beside your hip in a way that’s technically casual but strategically placed. Not touching you. Not yet. But narrowing the space around you.

Steve feels the shift inside himself before he gives it a name. He tells himself he’s just watching. Just assessing.

You laugh at something the guy says, but Steve knows you. Your laughter usually starts in your chest and spills out without warning. This one arrives a fraction too late. Chosen instead of felt.

Robin appears at his side without ceremony. “Okay,” she says lightly, following his line of sight. “Who’s Kitchen Counter Ken?”

“No idea,” Steve replies, jaw already tightening.

“You look like you’re evaluating him for weaknesses.”

“I’m not evaluating anything.”

She raises a brow. “You’re absolutely evaluating something.”

He doesn’t answer.

Across the room, the guy leans closer. You tilt your head slightly, and for a second, you smile. It isn’t forced this time.

Steve’s stomach drops at the sight of it. He shouldn’t care. He repeats it internally like a rule he’s trying to memorise.

You’re allowed to flirt. You’re allowed to let someone stand close. You’re allowed to want someone who isn’t him.

The guy gestures mid-sentence, animated, and when his hand lowers it doesn’t return to his side. It settles at your waist.

Not squeezing, just resting there like it belongs.

Steve feels something sharp lodge beneath his ribs. It isn’t explosive jealousy. It’s quieter and worse, like something stable has shifted out of place.

He sees it. The microsecond your body goes still before you smooth your expression back into polite ease. You don’t shove him away, you don’t lean in either. You hold neutral.

The guy laughs and raises his voice slightly over the music. “So,” he says, grinning, “does your boyfriend mind?”

There’s a pause. Steve doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until his lungs start to burn.

You let out a soft laugh. “Oh— no. He’s just my best friend.”

The words don’t echo. They don’t need to. They land clean.

Robin winces audibly. “Oof,” she mutters under her breath. “That’s a direct hit.”

“Don’t,” Steve says quietly, but he’s already moving.

He doesn’t storm over. He doesn’t shove anyone aside. His pace is steady, controlled, almost calm—which is how he knows he’s not thinking clearly.

He steps into your space with an ease that feels practised, shoulder brushing yours before you even register he’s there. His arm slides across your upper back, palm settling warm and certain at your shoulder blade, drawing you lightly into his side.

The contact is instinctive.

“She’s not interested,” he says evenly.

The guy’s eyebrows lift. He looks between you, assessing. “She can speak for herself.”

“She absolutely can,” Steve replies, voice flat but grounded. “I’m just saving everyone a little time.”

There’s no bravado in it, just certainty.

The man’s gaze flickers to Steve’s hand, then back to your face. He scoffs lightly. “Didn’t realise she came with a bodyguard.”

“She doesn’t,” Steve says, not smiling. “You just misread the room.”

A beat of tension stretches, taut and thin.

Then the guy lifts his hands in surrender and steps back. “Alright, man. Relax.” He melts into the crowd, swallowed by noise and movement like he was never there.

Steve drops his arm immediately. The absence of his touch feels abrupt.

You turn to face him slowly. “What,” you ask carefully, “was that?”

Your voice isn’t loud. It’s controlled in a way that makes his stomach tighten.

“What? It was nothing,” Steve says, but the words sound thinner than he means them to.

You don’t raise your voice. You don’t need to.

“You walked in like I was yours to defend,” you reply, steady. “Like the decision had already been made.”

His jaw shifts. “I didn’t think you needed defending.”

“But you stepped in anyway.”

The music swells behind you, bass vibrating faintly through the glass. Someone inside shouts with laughter. It feels miles away.

Steve runs a hand over the back of his neck, restless. “He had his hand on you.”

“And I was handling it.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

Your eyes flash. “You don’t get to decide that.”

The words land harder than you expect them to. They hang there, sharp in the space between you.

He looks at you then — not irritated, not arrogant. Wounded.

“I didn’t like seeing it,” he admits, more quietly.

“Seeing what?”

“Someone else getting comfortable.”

There’s no accusation in it now. Just something raw and unguarded.

You fold your arms loosely, just holding yourself together. “You don’t get to react like that and then pretend it doesn’t mean something.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“It felt like you were staking a claim.”

That hits. You see it in the way his shoulders tense.

“I wasn’t claiming you,” he says. “I don’t think you’re something to claim.”

“Then why did it feel like that?”

He looks away, toward the dark yard beyond the porch. The silence stretches long enough that it becomes its own answer.

Because it mattered. Because it bothered him more than it should have. Because it wasn’t just about the guy.

Inside, the music crescendos, then shifts tracks. A door slams upstairs. Life keeps moving.

“I’ve been trying really hard,” Steve says finally, voice lower now, stripped of edge. “To stay in a place that doesn’t mess this up.”

Your throat tightens slightly. “Mess what up?”

“This. Us.”

He gestures faintly between you, like the space itself has weight.

“I thought if I kept it simple—if I didn’t push—it would be enough for you.”

“And you?” you ask. “Did you want more?”

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “That’s the problem.”

The porch light hums faintly above you. The night air presses cool against your skin.

“I didn’t want to be the guy who complicates your life,” he continues. “I didn’t want to be another person asking you to choose. So I told myself that being close to you was enough. Being your person in every way that didn’t cross the line.”

Your heart stutters. You're sure it almost stops, maybe shatters.

“And tonight?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the sharpness from earlier worn down into something more vulnerable.

Steve exhales slowly, like the answer has been sitting heavy in his lungs.

“Tonight I realised I don’t handle it as well as I thought,” he says.

He doesn’t look at you right away. His gaze drifts past your shoulder, into the dark yard where the shadows swallow everything past the fence line. His hands flex at his sides, restless, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you and forcing himself not to.

“I thought I could,” he continues. “I thought I was past it. Mature about it. That I could watch you flirt, watch someone touch you, and it wouldn’t hurt like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, though you already know.

“Like something closing.”

The word hangs there.

There’s no jealousy in his tone. Just something quieter and more devastating — resignation. Like he’d already prepared himself for this version of the story and just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.

“When you said I was just your best friend…” His jaw tightens slightly, the muscle ticking. “It sounded final.”

You swallow.

The porch feels smaller now, like the air has thickened around you. The music inside shifts songs, bass muffled through the walls, but it feels impossibly far away.

“That’s what you are,” you say automatically, the defense rising before you can stop it. But it doesn’t land the way it used to. It sounds thinner. Like something rehearsed.

He looks at you then. “Is that all you want me to be?”

The question doesn’t feel like pressure. It feels like exposure.

Your heartbeat stutters in your throat. The space between you feels charged. You look down at your hands where they’re gripping the railing. Your knuckles are pale.

“I said it because it was safer,” you admit after a long pause.

“Safer than what?” His voice is careful now, like he’s approaching something fragile.

“Safer than wanting something you might not,” you say, and the truth of it makes your chest tighten.

That stills him completely.

You see it — the way his shoulders go rigid, the way his breathing changes. For a second, even the night feels like it’s holding its breath with him. The insects hum in the background. A car passes somewhere down the street. But between you, there’s nothing but that admission.

“You thought I didn’t—” He stops, recalibrating, dragging a hand down his face. “You thought I hadn’t been fighting that same thing?”

Your eyes lift to his.

“I didn’t know,” you say honestly. “You never said anything. You never crossed the line.”

“I was trying not to.”

His voice cracks just slightly on the last word, and that’s what undoes you.

“I didn’t know how to say it without risking this,” he continues, gesturing between you, but it’s smaller now — not dramatic, just real. “And I wasn’t willing to lose you over a maybe. I wasn’t willing to make you uncomfortable or put you in a position where you felt like you had to choose.”

Your chest keeps aching — at the restraint, at the care buried inside it.

“I wasn’t willing either,” you confess.

The words feel like stepping off something high without knowing if there’s ground beneath you.

“I didn’t want to want more if you didn’t,” you add, softer. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had just because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full.

Full of all the moments you didn’t say something. All the almosts. All the times your hands brushed and lingered a second too long and neither of you acknowledged it.

He steps closer then — slow enough that you can see the decision happening in real time. There’s hesitation there, not doubt, but respect. He stops just inside your space.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to police who talks to you or make you feel like you owe me something.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “But I do want to be the one you choose. Not because I got jealous. Not because I stepped in. Because you actually want me there.”

The vulnerability in that nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“I do,” you whisper.

Something shifts in his face. Like tension unwinding from a place it’s lived for too long.

“You’re sure?” he asks anyway, voice low, almost cautious. “Because I can live with staying where we were. I can. I just—” He swallows. “I need to know I’m not imagining this.”

“Yes,” you say again, firmer now. “I’m sure.”

He reaches for you then, but there’s nothing impulsive about it. His hand moves slowly to your waist, pausing just before contact — giving you space to step back if you want to.

You don’t.

His palm settles there, warm and steady, thumb resting lightly against your side. The touch is grounding, not possessive. It feels different from earlier — not reactive, not territorial.

Your hands come up almost instinctively, resting against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your palms. It’s faster than usual. His forehead lowers to rest against yours, breath warm against your cheek.

“I was never trying to play boyfriend,” he murmurs, voice roughened by proximity. “I was trying not to be. I thought that was the safer option.”

A breath leaves you, shaky and quiet. “That might’ve been the problem.”

He huffs the smallest laugh at that, the tension in it breaking. When he kisses you, it isn’t rushed. It isn’t a collision.

Like he’s confirming something he’s wanted for a long time but didn’t trust himself to reach for. His hand tightens slightly at your waist, not to hold you in place, but to anchor himself there — to make sure you’re real and this is mutual and not something born out of jealousy or adrenaline.

Your fingers curl lightly into his shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer.Inside, someone cheers at something unrelated. A door opens and closes. The world keeps moving.

But out here, in the small pocket of night you’ve carved out between you, something fundamental has shifted.

Always the steady hand of guidance and silent authority. The other employees tend to go to you for help despite your lack of experience. Finding solutions to their problems and taking on more that you can chew. That's how you ended up walking into the wrong place at the wrong time.

The stack of documents that Mr. Edgar needed done yesterday scattered on the floor after you collided with him of all people. He looked to be in a bad mood already, lips down turned as he all but sneers at you like it was your fault that he wasn't looking where he wasn't going.

Time and again, somehow, someway your paths would cross. Never intentionally— well at least not on your end, you just wanted to keep your head down and avoid getting caught up with any trouble. Apparently Vought's been involved in some shady stuff that you'd rather not get near but it seemed like fate had other plans.

By some stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, you were referred for the position of president or at least that's what you had been told. After Stilwell's tragic death everything had been knocked off balance. It took some time but things eventually went back to normal or as normal as it could be.

For some reason Homelander had been hovering over your shoulder, staying within arm's reach. You don't remember how exactly but you discovered the odd relationship between him and Stilwell. Maybe that's why he stuck around. You wouldn't have known that she died by his hands because she was deeply afraid of him, that out of fear she deceived and lied to him.

You wouldn't do that, right? You'd always tell him the truth. Compared to the other employees you don't seem all that afraid of him, just avoidant. Treating him like some rabid, feral animal who'd bite at the first opportunity it gets.

Perhaps it was pity or subtle manipulation on his behalf, you're not sure anymore, just that there was a shift. Seeing him mope around after Stormfront was incapacitated made you act without thinking things through. Now you're stuck with him tailing you more closely like some lost puppy. More often than not, you find yourself shoo-ing him out of your office so you could get some work done.

It was obvious that he'd taken a peculiar liking to you.

Coming to you whenever he wants to complain or brag, it doesn't matter if you're occupied— he doesn't really care. It started to become an issue until he started to show just how much he needed your praise and attention. It got to him deeply. Frowning when you would chide him and puffing up like a peacock at compliments and words of approval.

You had to figure out a way to get to him chill out, so why not use what you've observed to your advantage? It's not like you're abusing it, the praise and attention just gets to his head all too fast. With just a few words and a sweet tone he's preening and thoughtlessly doing whatever you ask him to.

His gaze set solely on you even when you're busy talking to others during events and meetings, the current conversations going over his head. He didn't have to worry about that kind of stuff that's what you get paid to do. It's part of your job. After one of those so called events you'd had one too many drinks and he took it upon himself to look after you. You had woken up with a splitting headache and little to no recollection of what happened.

He was guileful— manipulating the narrative to his benefit, making it seem like you had crossed the line and seduced him. Why else would his suit had been laid out by the foot of your bed? There was no need for you to know how he had imagined your touch like many times before while you slept. Laying by your side after he had soiled his suit under the facade of something scandalous having transpired between the two of you.

Since then it would have been so easy for him to blackmail you. To get you to bend to his whims and feed his ever growing ego. Convincing you to form some twisted co-dependent relationship with him, not that he would forced you. No, he didn't want to scare you off. He had implemented the idea overtime even if he had to wait months for you to give in.

Slowly but surely drawing out those perverse desires you've had locked away to satisfy his needs. The thrill of getting caught was one thing but it was another to see him rendered to a needy mess.

You had tipped his head that was laying on your lap, your cock slipping out from between his lips with a slight whine. He's been there for a minute, just keeping it warm and wet. The weight of it numbing the reoccurring thoughts bouncing around his head about how he's not the hero the people want.

He's Homelander for God's sake. So what if a few people had to die. They're insignificant in the greater scheme of things or at least that's what he thinks. He needed your reassurance, your hand in his hair as you'd pet him like some kind of cherished pet. It was demeaning but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Just the way you say he's needed, that "they're just conflicted because of the recent events," dull those bitter thoughts.

The front of his suit is stretched taut across his lap, his hips jerking forward a little when you let him suckle on the tip. He was greedy trying to take more but you wouldn't let him— a firm hand in his hair holding him back, keeping him from swallowing you whole.

He'd huff indignantly. Whine and eagerly try to get in your good graces. Anything to get more of you in his mouth. But you had a backlog of things to do and he was so very distracting. "Stay quiet and don't move then maybe you'll get what you want." He could do that, nodding dumbly at your proposition. His mouth opening wide enough to sink your cock back in, fighting back a low moan at how good it feels against his tongue.

You watched him for a minute, to make sure he stayed put, not because you liked watching how his lips stretched around the girth of your cock. No, of course not. "Good boy," you pet his head one last time and moved in your seat, intentionally pushing more down his throat under the guise of reaching for a pen that rolled out of reach.

Murmuring unapologetically at the choked whine and starting on the tasks at hand. Homelander will have to suck it up and restrain himself from getting back at you, at least until you finish.

Oh my God, what are you doing?

That's what Jake Sully should have said, what any sane man would've said when your fingers first slid between his thighs, brushing against slick heat where there shouldn't have been any. But his breath hitched instead, hips lifting unconsciously, betraying him more than words ever could.

The scent of him was dizzying, salt and something floral clinging to your tongue when you leaned down to taste. His legs trembled when you curled two fingers inside, the tight clutch of him drawing a ragged groan from your throat.

"Fuck—" Jake's voice cracked, hands scrabbling at the woven mats beneath him. His tail lashed, sending a spray of sand across your bare knees. "You don't—ah—understand what you're—"

But you did.

Your thumb circled his clit with the same reverence you'd give a sacred site, grinning against his inner thigh when his entire body jerked like you'd struck him. "God, look at you," you murmured, dragging your teeth over blue skin as his hips stuttered. "Been imagining this since I first saw you climb outta that water— fuck, you're dripping just 'cause I finally touched you?"

Jake's answering whine dissolved into a shuddering gasp when you crooked your fingers just right, the slick sound obscene between his thighs. His hands flew to his face, hiding, as if you hadn't already memorised every twitch of his expression, the way his lips parted when you rubbed faster.

"Should've known," you continued, breathless yourself now, drunk on the way his body kept pulling you deeper. "Big bad Olo’eyktan, reduced to— shit— this mess just 'cause I decided to—" Your words cut off as Jake's heel dug into your back, his moan cracking open when you sucked a bruise high on his hip.

He came with your name mangled in his throat, back arching off the mats so violently you had to pin him down with your free hand. Watching him unravel was better than any victory you'd ever stolen, better than breathing.

"Look at me," you growled, spreading his thighs wider with your knees—wider than any warrior should allow, but Jake was beyond pride now. His hips jerked when you dragged the thick head of your cock through his soaked folds, his breath stuttering at the stretch. "Fuck, you're made for this," you choked out, sinking into him inch by obscene inch. His inner walls fluttered around you like a heartbeat, impossibly hot and greedy, pulling you deeper before you'd even fully sheathed yourself.

"You feel that?" Your voice cracked as you bottomed out, hips flush against his, both of you trembling. "How you're clenching? Like you've been waiting—" A sharp thrust punched the air from Jake's lungs, his claws raking down your shoulders. "Like you've been empty." His answering sob was muffled against your collarbone, his legs locking around your waist like he could pull you closer still.

You didn't deserve this, didn't deserve the way his body yielded, the broken little noises he made when you fucked into him just right. But you'd burn villages for it now, ruin yourself a thousand times over just to hear him gasp your name like a prayer. "Knew you'd be perfect," you rasped, thumbing his swollen clit as you drove deeper. "Knew it the first time I saw you laughing in the river, water dripping off you like—fuck— like you were begging for it." Jake's hips rolled against yours, his thighs shaking, his pussy clenching tight around your cock as if trying to keep you there forever.

His moans were muffled against your shoulder, breath hitching wetly every time your pelvis ground against his oversensitive clit. "Please—" he gasped, voice raw, fingers twisting in your braids—not pulling, never pulling, just holding on like you were the only thing keeping him from drowning. "Please, I can't—" You swallowed his sob with your mouth, tasting salt and desperation, swallowing down every ragged whimper as you fucked him through it.

Jake's tail thrashed against the mats, his entire body tightening like a bowstring before snapping apart, silent this time, mouth open in a soundless scream as his orgasm ripped through him. You barely had time to marvel at the way his cunt pulsed around you before he was clenching again, oversensitive and trembling, his breath coming in sharp little hitches against your lips. "No more," he whimpered, even as his legs tightened around your waist. "Too much, I can't—"

You kissed the tears from his cheeks, slowing your thrusts but not stopping, chasing your own release now with the kind of single-minded focus that made Jake groan. "You can," you murmured against his jaw, biting just hard enough to make him whine. "You will." His answering shiver sent heat pooling low in your gut, his body still so fucking responsive even as he trembled beneath you.

"Daddy's being so good for me," you crooned, watching his pupils blow wider at the filthy endearment, something neither of you had dared voice before. Jake's breath hitched, his fingers twitching against your ribs like he wasn't sure whether to push or pull you closer. "Taking me so deep, fuck—" Your hips snapped forward to punctuate the words, drawing a broken noise from his throat as his cunt clenched around you like a vise.

The way his thighs trembled when you murmured it again, daddy, like you were unraveling him stitch by stitch, was almost better than the heat of him. His claws pricked your skin, blunt and desperate, his tail curling tight around your calf as if to anchor himself. "Say it," you growled, dragging your teeth along his jaw. "Say how much you like it."

Jake's voice cracked on the first attempt, his hips jerking when you slowed to a near stop, denying him friction. "Fuck—" He swallowed hard, throat working, before whispering it like a secret, like a sin: "… Daddy." The word was raw, wrecked, and it punched through you harder than any thrust could.

You rewarded him with a sharp roll of your hips, grinning when his back arched off the mats, his moan pitched high and sweet. "Good boy," you breathed against his mouth, swallowing his gasp as you fucked him steadily deeper, his body yielding like it was made just for this, for you.

There was something obscene about how perfectly he took you, his cunt snug and pulsing around your cock as if sculpted to fit you alone. Every thrust drew another slick sound, another desperate hitch of Jake's breath, his inner walls fluttering like he was trying to milk you dry already.

You'd fucked others before, but nothing like this, nothing that gripped you like a vice and burned hotter than a forge, nothing that made your vision blur at the edges just from how good it felt. Jake's thighs trembled against your hips, his claws pricking your skin in uneven bursts as if he couldn't decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"Tell me," you growled, dragging your teeth along his jaw. "Tell me how long you've wanted this." His answering whine was muffled against your shoulder, his hips jerking when you slowed just to watch him squirm. "How long you've been wet for me."

"(Your Name)," he whimpered, the word cracking open on a moan as you angled your hips just right, grinding against that sweet spot inside him that made his legs shake. His cunt clenched around you like a vice, tight and wet and so fucking perfect you could barely think past the heat of him.

"You ever think about it?" you murmured against his throat, feeling the frantic flutter of his pulse beneath your lips. "Me filling you up, knocking you up?" Jake's entire body went rigid beneath you, his breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with pleasure, or maybe everything to do with it. "Imagine it," you continued, voice rough as you thrust deep, grinding your hips against his swollen clit. "Round with my kid, everyone knowing exactly who put it in you."

Jake's claws dug into your back, his tail thrashing against the mats as he came with a strangled cry, his cunt pulsing around you in tight, rhythmic waves. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was shuddering again, oversensitive and trembling, his breath coming in ragged little gasps against your collarbone.

"You'd look so good," you growled, nipping at his jaw as you fucked him through it, his body still twitching with aftershocks. "All swollen with my kid, your tits leaking— fuck, Jake—" Your hips stuttered as his inner walls fluttered around you, his cunt clenching like it was trying to milk you dry. "You'd love it, wouldn't you? Being full of my cum, carrying my kid?" His answering whimper was muffled against your shoulder, his fingers tightening in your braids as if he couldn't decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

You didn't give him the choice. Grabbing his thighs, you folded him in half, pressing his legs to his chest with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. The new angle had him gasping, his cunt tightening around you like a vice as you bottomed out, the head of your cock pressing against that sweet spot inside him that made his tail thrash. "There we go," you murmured, grinning down at him as his eyes rolled back, his lips parting in a silent scream. "Now you really feel me, don't you?"

Jake's breath hitched when you pulled out halfway, his hips jerking as if trying to chase your cock, but you didn't let him. Instead, you slammed back into him with a force that sent his claws digging into your forearms, his cunt clenching tight. "Fuck—fuck—" he gasped, his voice raw and broken as you set a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with the slick, obscene noises of his pussy taking you over and over again.

His thighs trembled against your chest, his breath coming in ragged little gasps as you fucked him deeper than before, your cock hitting that spot inside him that made his toes curl. "Look at you," you panted, dragging your thumb over his swollen clit just to watch him jerk, his entire body tightening like a bowstring. "Taking me so deep, fuck— you're gonna milk me dry, aren't you?" His answering moan was muffled against your shoulder.

-

Writer’s Note:

The humidity in the Hallelujah Mountains made the air feel like wet wool. Every breath you took smalled like the damp forest floor, a constant reminder that you were miles away from the sterile, air-conditioned safety of the base. You adjusted the strap of your sampling kit, trying to ignore the heavy thud of Jake’s boots behind you. You were a senior lead in the xenobiology department, a man who had built his career on being the most capable mind in the room, but currently, you were stuck being babysat by a guy who thought the forest was just a target range.

"You're going to walk into a cliff if you don't take your eyes off that tablet, Doc," Jake said. His voice had that casual arrogance that always made your blood boil.

"And you're going to trip over a root if you don't stop staring at the back of my head," you shot back without looking at him. "This is a sensitive collection, Jake. It requires focus. I don't expect a grunt to understand the value of precision."

Jake let out a short, breathy laugh. He stepped over a glowing vine, moving with a grace that honestly annoyed you. He reached out to swat away a cluster of hanging, purple bulbs, his movements reckless in his boredom. "What's this one do? Aside from taking up space?"

"Jake, don't touch the—"

A sharp hiss cut you off. A cloud of fine, gold dust erupted from the plant, hitting both of you square in the face. You coughed, waving your arms through the shimmering haze, but the air already tasted sweet. It was a thick, cloying scent like overripe fruit.

"Fantastic job, hero. You just triggered a pheromonal defense mechanism," you growled, wiping the dust from your eyes.

"I didn't mean to set it off. Relax," Jake said, though his voice trailed off. He rubbed his chest, his pupils beginning to blow wide. "Is it just me, or did it get hot out here?"

A sudden, sharp heat coiled in your lower belly. It was a prickling sensation that made your skin feel too tight. You fumbled for your comms unit, your fingers feeling heavy. "Norm? Come in. Sully just set off a Venera-Spora. Gold dust. We’re feeling a reaction."

Norm’s voice crackled through the earbud after a second of static. "The gold dust? Oh man. You guys are in trouble. That’s high-potency sex pollen. It targets the neural pathways for arousal. The itch won't stop until the receptors are satisfied- like, fully satisfied. Good luck-"

The line went dead with a final click. You stared at the unit in disbelief. "Norm? Norm!"

You turned to Jake. He wasn't looking at the trees anymore. He was looking at you with a gaze that had stripped away the sarcasm, replaced by a sort of... hunger. He straightened up, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the sweat beading on his brow.

"Well, Doc," Jake rasped, his voice dropping an octave. "You heard the man. Scientific necessity."

"Don't act like this is a favor," you panted. The heat in your groin was becoming a throbbing weight.

"I'm a Marine. I follow orders," he quipped, moving toward you with a swagger that felt like a challenge. He reached out, his hand catching the back of your neck. The contact felt like lightning. Your Avatar’s body was already reacting to the pollen. Your hole felt slick, an unusual biological response that made every movement feel lubricated.

Jake pushed you back against a mossy stone floor, his hands sliding down to your hips, pushing your pants and boxers right off. "You're already wet," he noted. He knelt between your legs, his fingers finding the entrance of your hole and sliding in with startling ease.

The pollen had made your walls soft. The natural slickness made the entry of three thick fingers a seamless, squelching intrusion. You threw your head back, a broken moan escaping you. Jake watched you, his golden eyes glowing as he stretched you out. One of his digits rubbed against your prostate with a precision that felt way too intentional.

"Still want to talk about the data?" he teased, before leaning down.

He took you into his mouth with a hunger that was both generous and demanding. His tongue swirled around the head of your cock while his fingers continued to work you open, creating a loop of pleasure that threatened to short-circuit your brain. You reached for him, your hands tangling in his hair- dangerously close to his kuru, pulling him closer as the intensity of the pollen pushed your sensory limits.

When he finally stood up, his own cock was out, a pretty blue shade with bioluminescent freckles all over. He didn't use any more words. He hauled your lower body properly to the floor and lined himself up.

He slammed into you in one long thrust.

The air left your lungs. He was so thick he felt like he was splitting you in two, his length bottoming out with a force that made your vision go white. The tsaheylu happened in the chaos, your braids tangling and locking together by pure instinct.

The silence that followed was heavy. Through the bond, you felt his raw need to claim you, and he felt your desperate surrender. It was a mutual agreement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, and pulled him deeper.

Jake began to move with a relentless pace. Every time his hips slammed against yours, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoed through the clearing. You could feel the shape of him inside you, his cock filling every corner of your raw, slicked-out hole. Through the link, the pleasure was doubled. You were feeling your own walls clenching around him at the same time you felt the crushing tightness of your heat from his perspective.

You were both lost in it. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of your shoulder as he maintained a rhythm that left you completely unstrung. You were drooling, your eyes rolled back, your fingers buried in the muscles of his back as you rode the waves of the pollen’s influence.

The itch was fading, replaced by a unbearable pressure. Jake’s breathing turned into a series of ragged snarls, his movements becoming more frantic as he felt the mating bond start to solidify. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was marking you.

"Now," he thought through the link.

He surged deep one last time, his hips locking against yours as his knot began to swell. You felt the first hot spurt of his cum hit your internals, and the sensation sent you over the edge. You screamed into the quiet of the forest as your own orgasm ripped through you, your walls convulsing violently around his length. He held you there, pinned to the ground, as he emptied himself into you in long, pulsing throbs, filling you until you felt bloated with his seed.

You stayed locked together for a long time, the only sound the ragged gasps of your breathing. The haze was gone, replaced by exhaustion. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you didn't have anything to say.

- - -

The walk back to Hell's Gate was a nightmare of sore muscles and awkward glances. By the time you reached the lab, you just wanted to crawl into a bunk and sleep for a week. Norm was leaning against the main console, holding a mug of coffee and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Back so soon?" Norm asked.

"Shut up, Norm," you muttered, heading for the lockers.

"Hey, just a heads up for next time, Sully," Norm called out. He pointed to the comms unit on Jake’s vest. "The mute button only works if you actually press it. The whole bridge got to hear your scientific progress. Especially the part about the Doc being a slut for a Marine. Very descriptive, Jake. Ten out of ten."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as Jake’s jaw dropped.

"The recording is already in the archives," Norm added with a grin. "I think they’re planning to play it at the next staff briefing for educational purposes."

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sa1ki-deactivated20250510@sooniebby @seomn @prettorett

The humidity in the Hallelujah Mountains made the air feel like wet wool. Every breath you took smalled like the damp forest floor, a constant reminder that you were miles away from the sterile, air-conditioned safety of the base. You adjusted the strap of your sampling kit, trying to ignore the heavy thud of Jake’s boots behind you. You were a senior lead in the xenobiology department, a man who had built his career on being the most capable mind in the room, but currently, you were stuck being babysat by a guy who thought the forest was just a target range.

"You're going to walk into a cliff if you don't take your eyes off that tablet, Doc," Jake said. His voice had that casual arrogance that always made your blood boil.

"And you're going to trip over a root if you don't stop staring at the back of my head," you shot back without looking at him. "This is a sensitive collection, Jake. It requires focus. I don't expect a grunt to understand the value of precision."

Jake let out a short, breathy laugh. He stepped over a glowing vine, moving with a grace that honestly annoyed you. He reached out to swat away a cluster of hanging, purple bulbs, his movements reckless in his boredom. "What's this one do? Aside from taking up space?"

"Jake, don't touch the—"

A sharp hiss cut you off. A cloud of fine, gold dust erupted from the plant, hitting both of you square in the face. You coughed, waving your arms through the shimmering haze, but the air already tasted sweet. It was a thick, cloying scent like overripe fruit.

"Fantastic job, hero. You just triggered a pheromonal defense mechanism," you growled, wiping the dust from your eyes.

"I didn't mean to set it off. Relax," Jake said, though his voice trailed off. He rubbed his chest, his pupils beginning to blow wide. "Is it just me, or did it get hot out here?"

A sudden, sharp heat coiled in your lower belly. It was a prickling sensation that made your skin feel too tight. You fumbled for your comms unit, your fingers feeling heavy. "Norm? Come in. Sully just set off a Venera-Spora. Gold dust. We’re feeling a reaction."

Norm’s voice crackled through the earbud after a second of static. "The gold dust? Oh man. You guys are in trouble. That’s high-potency sex pollen. It targets the neural pathways for arousal. The itch won't stop until the receptors are satisfied- like, fully satisfied. Good luck-"

The line went dead with a final click. You stared at the unit in disbelief. "Norm? Norm!"

You turned to Jake. He wasn't looking at the trees anymore. He was looking at you with a gaze that had stripped away the sarcasm, replaced by a sort of... hunger. He straightened up, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the sweat beading on his brow.

"Well, Doc," Jake rasped, his voice dropping an octave. "You heard the man. Scientific necessity."

"Don't act like this is a favor," you panted. The heat in your groin was becoming a throbbing weight.

"I'm a Marine. I follow orders," he quipped, moving toward you with a swagger that felt like a challenge. He reached out, his hand catching the back of your neck. The contact felt like lightning. Your Avatar’s body was already reacting to the pollen. Your hole felt slick, an unusual biological response that made every movement feel lubricated.

Jake pushed you back against a mossy stone floor, his hands sliding down to your hips, pushing your pants and boxers right off. "You're already wet," he noted. He knelt between your legs, his fingers finding the entrance of your hole and sliding in with startling ease.

The pollen had made your walls soft. The natural slickness made the entry of three thick fingers a seamless, squelching intrusion. You threw your head back, a broken moan escaping you. Jake watched you, his golden eyes glowing as he stretched you out. One of his digits rubbed against your prostate with a precision that felt way too intentional.

"Still want to talk about the data?" he teased, before leaning down.

He took you into his mouth with a hunger that was both generous and demanding. His tongue swirled around the head of your cock while his fingers continued to work you open, creating a loop of pleasure that threatened to short-circuit your brain. You reached for him, your hands tangling in his hair- dangerously close to his kuru, pulling him closer as the intensity of the pollen pushed your sensory limits.

When he finally stood up, his own cock was out, a pretty blue shade with bioluminescent freckles all over. He didn't use any more words. He hauled your lower body properly to the floor and lined himself up.

He slammed into you in one long thrust.

The air left your lungs. He was so thick he felt like he was splitting you in two, his length bottoming out with a force that made your vision go white. The tsaheylu happened in the chaos, your braids tangling and locking together by pure instinct.

The silence that followed was heavy. Through the bond, you felt his raw need to claim you, and he felt your desperate surrender. It was a mutual agreement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, and pulled him deeper.

Jake began to move with a relentless pace. Every time his hips slammed against yours, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoed through the clearing. You could feel the shape of him inside you, his cock filling every corner of your raw, slicked-out hole. Through the link, the pleasure was doubled. You were feeling your own walls clenching around him at the same time you felt the crushing tightness of your heat from his perspective.

You were both lost in it. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of your shoulder as he maintained a rhythm that left you completely unstrung. You were drooling, your eyes rolled back, your fingers buried in the muscles of his back as you rode the waves of the pollen’s influence.

The itch was fading, replaced by a unbearable pressure. Jake’s breathing turned into a series of ragged snarls, his movements becoming more frantic as he felt the mating bond start to solidify. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. He was marking you.

"Now," he thought through the link.

He surged deep one last time, his hips locking against yours as his knot began to swell. You felt the first hot spurt of his cum hit your internals, and the sensation sent you over the edge. You screamed into the quiet of the forest as your own orgasm ripped through you, your walls convulsing violently around his length. He held you there, pinned to the ground, as he emptied himself into you in long, pulsing throbs, filling you until you felt bloated with his seed.

You stayed locked together for a long time, the only sound the ragged gasps of your breathing. The haze was gone, replaced by exhaustion. You looked up at him, and for the first time, you didn't have anything to say.

- - -

The walk back to Hell's Gate was a nightmare of sore muscles and awkward glances. By the time you reached the lab, you just wanted to crawl into a bunk and sleep for a week. Norm was leaning against the main console, holding a mug of coffee and looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Back so soon?" Norm asked.

"Shut up, Norm," you muttered, heading for the lockers.

"Hey, just a heads up for next time, Sully," Norm called out. He pointed to the comms unit on Jake’s vest. "The mute button only works if you actually press it. The whole bridge got to hear your scientific progress. Especially the part about the Doc being a slut for a Marine. Very descriptive, Jake. Ten out of ten."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as Jake’s jaw dropped.

"The recording is already in the archives," Norm added with a grin. "I think they’re planning to play it at the next staff briefing for educational purposes."

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sa1ki-deactivated20250510@sooniebby @seomn @prettorett

"don't even worry about him, okay? im here." he would always be there for you, you just needed a push to realize that. "you didn't deserve that, not at all. much too sweet for fuckers like him, no?" his hand slid down, fingers lightly gripping at your waist as a form of possessive action. "ay, look at me okay?" when you did, he was so close to you, nose lightly brushing yours. he was leaning closer though and fuck you were going to push him away. going to tell him the two of you were just friends and only that. mouth opening to tell him to back up but you couldn't. you just needed someone to fill the hole.

literally.

he fucked you like he was proving himself to you. proving ain't nobody else could have you as he did in only five minutes. his hand kept you grounded down, his palm hard against your ass as he thrusted like he was going to war. he winced through his teeth, adams apple bobbing in his throat when he groaned from your tightness. "fuck– fuck, fuck, see how you got me?" wasn't much of a question, he just wanted you to know what you did to him. he stopped moving only for a second, his knee kicking between your thighs just so you can arch deeper.

he started up again, your ass bouncing each time his hips came in contact and clapped at your wet skin. you couldn't speak, only having incoherent words when you tried and slobbered moans. he snickered, lip curling upwards from his ego. "mmm.. coño muy apretado. might snap my dick off." his eyes darted all over your body, watching how your body tried to roll and grind backwards to get him deeper inside.

"yeah, knew you wanted me from the beginning." he huffed through his nose, teeth grinding together. his hand gripped at your hair, pulling you up so you could look back at him. "say it. don't fuckin' deny it, hear me?" you nodded to your best abilities, swallowing your saliva down harshly. he clicked his teeth against the top of his mouth, shaking his head. "you don't listen bebé. say. it." wanted to hear it. you gasped wetly, blinking away any tears only for them to spill out anyway. "wanted— wanted you from the beginning! needed you so bad..'m losin' my mind, don't stop.."

he let go of your hair, your cheek hitting the soft mattress. "there we go. wasn't that hard, now was it?" he tilted his head, like he was curious. "but how would i know that," his palm smacked down at your ass, the cheek already bruised up. "maybe i should get this tight ass filled with my nut– you gon' take it real good and well ain't you." he demanded and you nodded, nodded like you even knew what the fuck he was saying.

—

he knew he was petty, wouldn't admit it. he got what he wanted and had you all cuddled up to him and comfy. his marks were all over you, from neck down to between your thighs. bite marks, bruises, hickeys, even a few scratches. his phone was in his hand, thumb swiping at the photos he took of you sleeping. he scent it on your phone, right to your boyfriend making sure most of those marks were visible.

he fucking giggled when he saw the three frantic bubbles pop up as your boyfriend(ex) typed. he fingers were already quick across the screen.