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jaysbaefie · 7 days ago

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the loss | nrk

synopsis: in which you push niki one too many times, and he fucks you on the bench—just to remind you that losers don’t get to walk away.

genre: rivals au

pairing: swimmer!niki x bratty!reader

warnings: porn w very little plot, bratty!reader, hard dom!niki, mean!niki, cornering, bantering, dub-con ish, degrading, forced submission, spanking, manhandling, oral (m. rec), hair pulling, chocking, unprotected p in v, breeding, creampie, multiple rounds, overstimulation, no after care whatsoever. i think that’s it….?

wc: 6.2k

a/n: back again with another porno…am i ashamed? slightly. i wanted to post something and this dynamic has been on my mind for a while.. yes i have like 2 other fics dying in my drafts that i have promised but baby that’s plot…this is porn. anyways…enjoy! as always, reblogs, notes and comments are always appreciated!

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you'd noticed it from the first lap—niki was off today.

his strokes were sluggish, flip turns messy, timing just a split second late. not that he'd ever admit it. niki wasn't the kind of swimmer who made excuses, but the difference was obvious—and you weren't about to let it slide.

"what's wrong, golden boy?" you called from your lane, teeth flashing through the spray. "forgot how to swim?"

he didn't respond—just wiped the water from his eyes and pushed off again. but you caught the flick of his jaw, the twitch of his fingers as he adjusted his goggles. you were under his skin already, not that you didn't practically live there already.

perfect.

the two of you had been rivals since 1st year. different schools, same arena, always scheduled to practice back-to-back. you had similar event times, similar passions, and very different personalities.

you happened to be loud, cocky, relentless. whereas, niki was unreadable, quiet, but impossible to ignore.

the tension between you was legendary. not quite friendly, not quite hostile—just constant and sharp.

today, though, you could tell something was cracking.

practice was supposed to be a standard drill day, but your coach must've picked up on the tension, because halfway through he clapped his hands and smirked.

"how about some friendly races? we've got the lanes—let's make it fun."

fun.

as if you hadn't been dying to make niki eat your dust for years. he said nothing, just nodded and slid into the water beside you, shoulders tight, goggles already on. he didn't look at you once, and you scoffed at his cold demeanour.

the first race was a 100m free, you won by a body length.

the second was a medley sprint, you beat him again.

and by the third race—when you were practically bouncing with smug satisfaction—you leaned over the lane divider and said, just loud enough for him to hear: "kinda feels like bullying at this point."

he exhaled slowly. he didn't answer, didn't look up. but the tension in his arms, the way he adjusted his cap for the fifth time—it was all falling apart.

he was seething, and you loved it.

after the final cooldown lap, he climbed out without a word—grabbing his towel and heading straight for the locker room. no eye contact, no handshake, not even a grunt.

you waited exactly 30 seconds before following him in, still dripping, still grinning. you just couldn't help yourself, when it came to rubbing your victory in someone's face—you had no morals.

you step into the empty men's locker room with a cocky bounce in your step, towel slung around your neck, still soaked and grinning like the devil himself.

it's quiet inside—steam fogging the mirrors, a few lockers clanging shut in the distance. most of your team's still showering. his? already gone. it was a dry monday at the pool, people were quick to pack their belongings and leave.

except for him.

niki stands at the far end, back to you, towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair. shoulders flexing as he digs through his bag searching for his clothes.

you take your time walking over, "hey, sore loser."

he doesn't answer.

you hum, tapping a finger against the cold metal locker beside him, "what happened out there, huh?" you grinned, your plump lips bitten raw from the heavily chlorinated water.

"pretty sure your form fell apart after the 2nd lap." you then gasped mockingly, "don't tell me i made you nervous."

he moves like he's not listening—like he's too calm, too cool to care—but you see the way his jaw ticks.

you lean in, voice syrupy-sweet, "kinda embarrassing, right? the fastest guy on your team getting his ass handed to him by me?"

still nothing, he doesn't even look at you. just pulls out a dry shirt and drops it onto the bench.

you smirk, continuing, "you were supposed to be the golden boy." you desperately search his body for a reaction, "what, did the pressure finally get to you?"

you tilt your head, "or maybe i just fucked you up in the head a little. maybe that's why you can't swim straight—'cause every time i pass you, you get distracted watching my ass cut through the water."

that gets him. he still doesn't face you, but his fingers stop moving. still and stiff.

you press closer, letting your towel slip down just enough to bare your collarbone. you're dripping all over the tile, soaked swimsuit clinging to your skin. but you don't care, you've got him right where you want him.

or so you think. "but don't worry," you say, mock-sweet, "you still looked cute losing."

and then, finally—he turns. slowly, his eyes sweep over you once. grazing over your bare legs and your navy blue towel that clung to your form loosely and then back down from your smug mouth to the water sliding down your legs.

you're smiling when he steps forward, but it falters instantly when he doesn't stop. keeps walking until your back hits the solid green locker behind you.

"done?" he asks, voice low.

you blink. "...what?"

"talking," he says, like you were dumb. "are you done?"

you scoff, trying to roll your eyes, but you're caught off guard by how close he is—dripping wet, towering over you, and still too calm.

"you've got a lot of nerve talking the way you do," he says quietly, "for someone who couldn't even keep her thighs still when we swam next to each other last week."

your breath catches and your face heats instantly.

"you—"

"you think i didn't notice?" he leans in, voice steady. "i always notice."

you open your mouth but no sound comes out. and that's when his hand lifts—palm resting right beside your head, boxing you in.

"you walk around in that tiny swimsuit, mouthy as fuck, pushing every button like it won't come back to bite you."

"so tell me," he says, tilting his head so his blonde locks fell over his eyes, "what exactly were you hoping i'd do today?"

you stare, lips parted. because you're not so sure anymore. you thought you were pushing him, you thought you were in control.

but right now—pressed between cold metal and niki's steady, smoldering stare—you feel anything but in charge.

you don't usually lose control, not with him.

not with anyone.

you talk your shit, play the part, swim hard and leave people gasping in your wake—figuratively and literally. no one handles you. no one checks you.

but niki's not backing up and suddenly your back's to the lockers, heart pounding under your damp suit, mouth open and ready to fire—except nothing's coming out.

he watches you. quiet. eyes heavy-lidded. heat rolling off him in waves.

"what, no more comments?" he murmurs. "don't tell me you ran out."

you find your voice, barely, "just giving you time to come up with a decent excuse for choking out there."

his mouth twitches, but not quite into a smirk.

"right." he steps closer, towel loose around his hips. "then why are your legs shaking?"

you freeze, he looks down and you do too. your thighs—still wet, still dripping pool water—are trembling just the tiniest bit.

from exhaustion. from adrenaline. you tell yourself that's why.

his gaze lifts again and you hold it, stubborn.

"fuck off," you mutter.

he tilts his head, "i think you want the opposite."

and then—softly, like it costs him nothing—he presses his hand flat against the locker beside your head.

"you've been begging for my attention since the first time we swam next to each other," his eyes glare you down, his head tilting downwards so he could look you in the eyes. "snapping at me. showing off. trying so hard to get under my skin."

his voice stays low, unreadable. "you don't hate me. you just don't know what to do with yourself when you're not the one in control."

your jaw tightens. "shut up."

"make me."

you suck in a breath and that's when he leans in—close enough that your noses almost touch, voice a dangerous whisper: "you keep running that bratty little mouth like you're not one second away from letting me shut it with my cock."

your body reacts, involuntarily.

heat shoots down your spine, and you shift without thinking—hips pressing forward just slightly, thighs brushing together.

he sees it, he definitely sees it. but he doesn't take the bait. instead, he pulls back a fraction, calm as ever.

"you wanted to win?" his voice gruff. "congrats. you beat me in the pool." he then pauses, the heat of his toned body causing your brain to malfunction momentarily, "but in here?" he glances around the empty locker room. "you don't stand a chance."

you grit your teeth. "you're bluffing."

he laughs—just once. low and sharp.

"baby," he says, so quietly you feel it in your bones, "you've been bluffing since the day we met."

you push him—hard, palms flat to his chest. "fuck you."

"you'd love to." and now he steps back. like he's giving you space. like he's letting you walk away. but the smirk that finally curves across his lips tells you exactly what he's doing.

he's letting you think you have a choice.

you hate the way your body reacts to him. the way your stomach dips when he gets close. the way your thighs ache from just a few low words.

you've been running your mouth all practice, and suddenly you're the one pressed against cold metal, caught in the middle of a storm you started—but now it's slipping through your fingers, fast.

no.

no way.

you're not letting this blonde bimbo fucking win like this.

so you do what you always do when the tension spikes and your pulse won't slow down: you get nasty.

you square your shoulders, push off the locker with a laugh that sounds just a little too forced.

"god, you're such a sore loser."

he raises a brow, still silent.

"it's actually kinda embarrassing," you add, tilting your head. "big strong ni-ki—talk of his team, always so serious—getting wrecked by a girl who's half his size."

your voice drips with mock pity, "what does that make you?" you pause to faux think for a second, "a loser with a superiority complex?"

he blinks once, he doesn't flinch.

"or maybe you just choke when someone's actually better than you." you begin to jitter with each word that spews out of your mouth. "you gonna cry about it? or throw a tantrum in the showers where no one can see?"

still nothing and god, it infuriates you.

"go on. storm out like a little bitch again."

silence.

he just looks at you. dark eyes steady, unreadable.

you expect him to snap. bark something. shove you. anything.

instead? he steps in slow, close, deliberate and leans down until his lips brush your ear.

"done flailing?"

you stop breathing.

his voice is low, lethal, "you're not intimidating. you're not untouchable." he pauses, "you're desperate."

your stomach drops.

"you want to pretend like all this—" his hand brushes the strap of your dark green swimsuit "—doesn't mean anything, but your body's telling the truth."

your pulse spikes, he knows it.

he tilts his head, still murmuring, still terrifyingly calm, "wanna keep lying? go ahead." he grins, a small laugh leaving his pink plump lips, "but the next time you open that smart mouth, you better be ready to pay for it."

he pulls back, eyes dropping to your lips. "and if you call me a loser again," he murmurs, "i'll fuck the attitude out of you."

your knees nearly give out, but he's not done.

"so go on. say something bratty," he says, like he's testing you. "give me a reason."

your throat tightens. you open your mouth— and nothing comes out. not a single word.

he smirks, finally. "that's what i thought."

you're burning. every nerve on fire, skin prickling, heart racing like you're on the starting block—but there's no whistle. no gun. no escape.

and still—still—you can't shut up.

you're a brat down to the bone. and even with your knees weak and heat pooling between your legs, even with niki's breath still ghosting your skin, you can't let him walk away with the last word.

so you spit it out—sharp and venomous and a little shaky, "still doesn't change the fact that you lost."

his gaze lifts slowly.

"and no matter how smug you act, it must eat you alive knowing you'll never be as good as me."

his jaw flexes.

"you're just all talk, niki." you force another laugh, "all bark, no bite."

you pause and then smile, "and if i wanted someone to fuck me breathless?" your eyes glaze over his face, watching his jaw tick. "it sure as hell wouldn't be a guy who can't even keep up in the water."

the silence that follows is instant. thick.

and then— he laughs.

low. humorless. dangerous.

"alright."

your stomach flips at the sound, you felt yourself gush.

he drops the towel from his hips. your breath catches—eyes flashing down without thinking—and he sees it. sees the way your gaze sticks, the way your lips part.

he steps forward, grabs your chin, his fingers firm but not cruel—and tilts your head up to look at him.

"you wanted to mouth off one more time?" he raises an eyebrow. "go ahead. just remember—this is what you asked for."

his hand drops. "bend over the bench."

you freeze and blink.

"w-what?"

he doesn't repeat himself. doesn't need to. his eyes are heavy and unblinking, voice steady, "you're not walking out of this room without being reminded who you belong to."

and then, "and when i'm done, you're going to thank me for ruining you."

you don't move.

he told you to bend over the bench, and you're still standing there—defiant, knees wobbly, throat dry, but still trying to glare at him like he didn't just peel every inch of power off you like a second skin.

he notices, of fucking course he does.

niki's always been good at seeing straight through your bullshit. today, he's done letting you hide behind it.

he steps forward—slow, steady—and you catch the brief flick of heat in his eyes as he looks you up and down. like he's deciding how to start.

"you think you're clever, huh?"

you scoff, but it's weak.

his hand lifts—trailing fingertips along the line of your arm, down the damp curve of your side. he doesn't touch anywhere dangerous, he doesn't give you what you want.

and that's exactly what drives you insane.

"you talk a big game," he murmurs, "but your body's already begging."

you open your mouth to argue—and then gasp when his knuckle grazes the hem of your suit.

"shaking." his fingers slide down the inside of your thigh, barely a whisper. "dripping." he leans in, "and not from the pool."

you stiffen, teeth clenched.

"say it," he whispers. "you want it."

you glare, "go to hell."

he smiles, "ladies first."

and then—he moves behind you. hands settling at your hips, thumbs dipping beneath the band of your suit. he doesn't yank it off. doesn't rush. he just holds you there.

"you know what the problem is?" he says softly. "you've never had someone fuck you like they mean it."

your stomach flips.

"you push and push, trying to find the edge, hoping someone grabs you before you fall off." his breath is warm against your neck. his voice stays steady, "and now you have."

he peels the suit down slowly, agonizingly slow—until it clings to your thighs, slick and wet. you were exposed, your breasts and cunt on full display.

you could feel him, his cock thick and heavy against your back. you suck in a breath.

he traces one hand up the back of your leg, stopping at the dip of your lower back.

"bend over."

you don't. not yet.

"make me," you whisper, voice cracking just a little.

he hums, "i will."

and then—finally—his palm lands on your ass in one sharp, controlled slap. not hard enough to hurt. just enough to steal the air from your lungs.

"last warning," he says. "next time you talk back, i won't be so nice."

you swallow hard.

and slowly, trembling, you fold over the bench.

he lets the silence stretch. lets you sit there, exposed and tense, pride crumbling by the second.

then you feel his hand again—this time between your thighs, knuckles brushing your heat.

"look at you." he chuckles darkly, "still pretending you're not dripping for me."

you whimper and he still hasn't even taken his time with you yet.

your cheek's pressed to the cold bench now, legs trembling. arms burning. swimsuit halfway down your thighs and niki behind you—silent for a moment, watching.

you hate that your body's already arching toward him, hips twitching like you're searching for friction. you hate that he hasn't even really touched you yet, and your skin still feels like it's going to ignite.

he drags one finger through your folds. slow. careful. barely any pressure.

and then clicks his tongue, "messy."

you stiffen.

"this wet over a couple words?" he laughs tauntingly, "i didn't even do anything yet."

you hiss through your teeth, "fuck you."

he laughs, low and sharp, "you really don't learn, do you?"

he drags that same finger over you again, slower this time, teasing your entrance without dipping in. "you think i'm gonna be nice just because you're dripping?"

"you think this is a reward?"

he leans in again, breath hot against your ear. "you ran your mouth for an hour straight and now look at you." you whine when his finger grazes your clit, "bent over. shaking. soaked."

"like some needy little brat who doesn't even deserve to cum."

your stomach drops and then—he brushes your clit again. once. light. barely enough to feel.

you gasp.

"yeah, that's what i thought." he smiles. "so easy." you try to push back into his hand, grinding subtly, desperate for more—he pulls away.

you whine and he laughs.

"no, no. don't get greedy." his chest hard against your back, "not after all that attitude."

you squeeze your eyes shut, frustration bubbling in your chest.

"say please," he murmurs.

you shake your head.

"say it."

silence.

so he grabs your ass again, spreading you open, gaze locked on your dripping cunt.

"fine," he huffs softly. "we'll just stay like this."

and he does.

he touches you again—light strokes, slow circles, never consistent. never deep, just enough to keep you right on the edge of madness. every time your hips roll back, he pulls away. every time your thighs twitch, he stills.

you're panting now, aching. begging in your head.

but he waits.

until your pride starts to crumble, voice shaking— "please..."

he hums. "hmm?"

"please," you whisper again. "touch me."

he cups you fully now, hot palm against your core, middle finger sliding in just enough to tease.

"so polite all of a sudden."

you squirm.

"you wanna cum?" he asks. "after all that attitude?"

you nod.

"you wanna get filled like the dumb little slut you've been acting like?"

your breath stutters.

"then you're gonna fucking earn it."

he pulls his hand away again and this time, you sob.

your legs are jelly and your arms are trembling. cunt aching. niki's hands have been everywhere—except where you need them. and you can't take it anymore.

you can't.

"please," you breathe. "please, ni-ki, i'll—i'll be good."

you feel him smile against your shoulder.

"no, you won't."

you whimper.

"you'll run your mouth again tomorrow." he knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew what he had to do to you. "you'll tease. you'll provoke. you'll pretend like you didn't beg me to ruin you in the locker room."

his hand slides between your thighs again, two fingers pressing into you with no rhythm—just enough to make you feel how empty you still are.

"you'll pretend like you're not still dripping my cum when you get back in the water."

your eyes roll back.

"say you're sorry."

you swallow hard, "i'm sorry."

"say you need me."

"i—i need you."

"say who owns you."

you hesitate for half a second too long and he pulls away again.

"fuck—no, wait, wait—!"

but he steps back completely, hands off, voice dangerously low. "not good enough." he steps back and circles around, grabbing you by the hair.

not harsh, just final.

he pulls your head up, enough to get a better angle—then slides the tip of his cock across your lips causing you to gasp.

"you want something to say?" he murmurs, voice like silk. "say it around my dick."

you glare up at him, breathing hard. and then slowly, so slowly—you open your mouth.

he slides in.

the position's filthy. so filthy. bent at the waist, ass in the air, face tilted back and cock filling your mouth from above.

he doesn't rush.

just pushes deeper, slow and steady, until you're gagging—your throat tight, lips stretched, spit already dripping onto the bench beneath you.

"there she is," he breathes. "so fucking quiet all of a sudden."

his hand stays tight in your hair as he rocks his hips—grinding deep, letting you choke around him, then pulling back just enough to let you breathe.

"thought you were tough?" he pants, "thought you were better than me?" he thrusts again, deeper this time, and your knees buckle.

"what happened to all that attitude, baby?"

you whimper around him, mouth raw and wet and full. you're flushed and fucked out, and he hasn't even touched your pussy again yet.

"you like this, don't you?" he grunts when he feels you hollow out your cheeks, essentially vacuuming him in. "being used. being owned."

he slides out, dragging his cock across your swollen lips before slapping it against your tongue.

"tell me who you belong to."

you moan at his words and he smirks. "can't? that's alright."

"i'll fuck it into you instead."

he releases your hair and twists you around so he could grab your hips again—lining up behind you, cock wet and heavy with spit and arousal.

and that's what does it.

you hear the low rustle of him stroking himself behind you. hear the way his breathing shifts.

and then—you feel it.

the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, thick and hot and already leaking.

"shouldn't give brats what they beg for," he mutters. "makes 'em worse."

and then he pushes in, all at once.

you scream.

he groans low, hands locking around your hips, slamming in to the hilt with one hard, deep stroke that steals the air from your lungs.

"fuck—look at you." his eyes watching your ass meet his pelvis, "took it so easy. like you were made for it."

you can't think, can't breathe. he's so deep. too deep. and he's not stopping.

"you wanted a loser?" his voice drips venom. "losers don't fuck like this."

his hips snap into yours, slow and punishing. "losers don't make you this fucking full."

you choke on a moan. nails scraping the wood of the bench. every thrust makes your toes curl, your back arch—your body giving up and giving in.

he leans over you now, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing your head to tilt.

"you talk big," he pants. "but you melt the second i split you open."

his thumb pushes into your mouth and you suck without thinking, needy and broken and gone.

"such a fucking mouth on you," he growls. "but you're better like this."

"dumb. stuffed. obedient."

you moan around his thumb—whimpering, twitching, clenching around him so tight it punches a groan out of his chest.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he asks, voice sharp. "you gonna cream on my cock like a little fucking toy?"

you nod frantically. "yes—yes, please, please—"

"you gonna let me breed this pussy raw?" you clench around him even tighter at his filthy words.

"yes, yes—please, i need it—"

he removes his fingers from you mouth so he could grab your hips tighter and thrust harder. you scream, head falling forward, bench scraping beneath your chest as he fills you in one brutal stroke.

"fuck—niki—!"

"shut up."

he slams in again. "you got your mouth full once, you'll take it again." his cock drags deep and slow inside you, hips snapping with brutal precision—every thrust punching breath from your lungs.

"you're gonna take every inch." he snaps at you, his grip on you now bruising. "and you're gonna fucking thank me for it."

your mind blanks. body clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper even as your legs shake under the weight of it all.

he leans over you again, voice low in your ear. "say please."

"please—please, fuck, i'm sorry—"

"too late."

his hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make you gasp. "you talk back, you get used."

"you run your mouth, and i'll fill every hole you got."

you cry out, overstimulated and aching and full. and still—he keeps going. he fucks you like he's marking you.

hips heavy against yours, cock driving in deep, over and over again—slick, raw, relentless. you're soaked and stretched and shaking, arms trembling from holding yourself up.

his grip doesn't waver.

one hand still on your throat, the other locked around your hip, guiding you back onto every punishing thrust like he's training you to take it.

"so quiet now," niki pants. "what happened, baby?"

you moan—a wrecked, breathless sound.

"that mouth kept running, but look at you now—" he pushes in deep and stays there.

you scream.

"just a fucktoy with nothing left to say."

you're too full and it aches in the best way. your pussy pulses around him, fluttering with each deep grind of his hips.

"you feel that?" he pulls back, just an inch—then slams in again, cock kissing your cervix.

"that's what happens when you bait me."

your legs buckle. niki catches you effortlessly—shifts his grip to your waist and fucks you through it, unbothered by your whimpering, your twitching, your begging.

"gonna fill this bratty little cunt," he groans. "make you carry something more permanent than a loss."

your eyes roll back.

"you want that?" he growls. "want my cum dripping out of you while you pretend you're not mine?"

"yes—yes, please—"

"fuck," he hisses, thrusts getting sharper. "you need it, don't you?"

"need it—need you to—fuck—please, ni-ki—" you babble mindlessly, to fucked out to realize what he was saying.

he grabs your hair again and pulls. your back arches. pussy clenches. he feels it.

"oh, you're gonna cum," he breathes. "and when you do? i'll be so deep in you, you'll feel it in your throat."

"you're gonna thank me for breeding this cunt."

you sob and then—you snap. you cum hard, mouth open in a silent cry, vision going white, body locking around him.

niki groans—low and guttural—and fucks you through it.

doesn't slow down.

doesn't stop.

"take it," he pants."take every fucking drop."

and then he cums—deep, deep, cock twitching inside you, his cum spilling thick and hot into your pulsing cunt.

"fuck—just like that—" he curses, eyes shutting. "that's it—good girl—fuck—mine."

you're gasping, shaking, ruined.

he stays there, buried deep. twitching.

his hands soften on your waist. you can feel him throbbing inside you, still filling you up, like he meant to breed you and make sure it stuck.

your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

he leans over your back, presses a kiss between your shoulders.

"what's wrong?" he murmurs. "nothing left to say?"

he grins.

"good." you're twitching underneath him. sweat-slicked, breathless, your arms collapsed beneath you. face pressed to the bench, legs spread open wide with niki's cum dripping hot and messy out of your ruined cunt.

you're wrecked, but he's still hard.

"you thought i was done?" he murmurs, almost amused. "baby, you haven't learned anything."

you whimper, trying to lift your head.

too slow.

he's already pushing back in—your cunt still fluttering, oversensitive, making it hurt in the most unbearable way.

"wait—wait, i can't—"

"you can."

his hands grip your hips again—tighter this time.

"and you will."

he fucks into you again, deep and slow, cock dragging against soaked walls that clench down like they're still desperate to keep him.

you scream.

your nails dig into the bench. your thighs shake violently, your cunt pulsing with the aftershocks of your last orgasm—and he's still going.

"this pussy's still so wet," he breathes. "can't decide if it's from me or from you."

he thrusts again, making you cry out.

"can't tell if you're begging me to stop—" he grunts "—or to never stop fucking you."

he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, lips brushing your ear. "you're leaking all over the bench, baby."

"do you even know how pretty you look like this?"

you sob.

he reaches around and slides his fingers between your thighs, spreads the cum that's dripping out, and spreading it over your clit.

"don't waste it," he murmurs. "you wanted it so bad, remember?"

your whole body jerks but he doesn't stop.

just keeps fucking you with long, punishing strokes—grinding against your swollen, overstimulated walls like he wants to split you open all over again.

"gonna give me another," he pants. "you can take it. i know you can."

"gonna come again on this cock while it's still leaking with my first load—"

you choke on a sob, thighs clenching, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"—and then you're gonna thank me."

"say thank you, baby."

you try but nothing comes out.

so he slaps your ass—just once, hard enough to sting—and fucks you harder.

"say it."

"thank you—thank you—fuck, niki, i—" your voice breaks again.

your body snaps and another orgasm rips through you—violent, uncontrollable, white-hot and unbearable—and your vision blacks out for a second from how hard you cum around him.

niki groans through clenched teeth, cock twitching again inside you, and his hand presses firm to your lower stomach. "fuck, baby," he breathes. "you're still so tight."

"how the fuck are you still squeezing me like this—?" he thrusts once more, deep, rough, unforgiving and then he cums again.

right on top of your second orgasm, flooding you for the second time, groaning through it while your whole body shakes beneath him.

it's too much. it's too much.

you're crying now, sobbing into the bench. stretched out, bred, stuffed so full his cum starts spilling out with every twitch of his cock.

and he still doesn't pull out.

"that's it," he whispers, soft now, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "that's what i wanted."

"fought me every second—but now look at you."

"fucked dumb and full of me."

you hiccup through a breath.

he smiles, "good girl."

you try to move. a soft, trembling shift of your hips—instinctual. desperate.

"n-no more—" your voice cracks, wrecked and raw, and your thighs twitch from the overwhelming stretch still seated inside you.

niki doesn't say anything at first. he just tightens his grip. his palm presses flat against the middle of your back, and he leans down, chest flush to your back, cock still buried deep in your overstimulated cunt.

you freeze.

"where do you think you're going?" he murmurs, voice low, calm, dark.

you squirm again when he grinds his hips.

slow. deep.

you whimper.

"you're not done." his voice dark, threatening "not even close." you sob into the bench, arms trembling beneath you.

"you're gonna stay right here," he continues, breathing hot against your ear, "and you're gonna keep my cum where it fucking belongs."

his hand slips down your spine again, trails between your legs.

he drags his fingers through the mess leaking out of you—hot, sticky, endless. "fuck, look at you."

"can't even hold it all in."

he pushes two fingers back in—shallow—and your body jolts. "stuffed full and still greedy."

"isn't this what you wanted?" his tone mocking. "to get bred like a dumb little cumdump?"

you cry out, body twitching, trying again to pull away—but his cock throbs inside you, and you clench.

he smirks, "oh, baby," he hums. "your pussy's telling on you." he rocks his hips—slow grind, barely any thrust, just a filthy roll of his cock that drags along every overstimulated nerve inside you.

"tight and messy," he groans. "still sucking me in like you belong to me."

he licks a stripe up your shoulder, lips curling into a grin. "you like being used, don't you?"

"getting put in your place. fucked until you cry," he cooed softly, your body twitching.

"you like being mine."

your breath stutters but he keeps going.

"say it," he growls, pushing deep again. "say you're mine."

"say this cunt's mine to use—mine to fill whenever i want. mine to leave leaking on this bench like a used little toy."

you choke on a sob.

"say it."

"yours," you whimper, voice thin and hoarse. "m'yours, niki—i'm yours—"

"damn right."

his hand fists in your hair again and he yanks your head back—gently, but possessive. you're wrecked. flushed, wet, glassy-eyed and ruined.

he kisses your jaw.

"look at you," he whispers. "you were so fucking mouthy an hour ago."

"now you're just a warm hole for me to use." his cock twitches inside you again and you clench, helpless and aching and dripping.

"you'll take me again when i'm ready," he adds, breath fanning hot across your ear, "and you'll cum again. harder this time."

"because this pussy is mine now." his voice low and menacing, "and you don't come unless i say so."

"understand?"

you nod, sobbing through it.

he smiles, "good girl."

he grinds in deeper, cock still rock hard, and wraps his arm fully around your waist to keep you there—locked in, stretched open, and completely owned.

you don't even realize he's moving again until his hands shift position—one locking around your waist, the other curling under your chin to tilt your head up.

his cock drags out of you just a few inches.

you flinch, "n-ni-ki—i can't—"

"yes," he snaps, quiet and sharp. "you can."

his voice is cold now. not angry—but final. "you wanted to run your mouth, brat," he growls.

"so now you'll take what comes with it."

you try to push up but he shoves you right back down."keep your ass up."

and you do—legs trembling, arms buckling beneath you, sobs already caught in your throat—because the tone in his voice says don't make me say it again.

and then, he fucks back in.

hard.no mercy.

your scream rips out of you, raw and shattered, because there's no build up this time. no warning. just him, full and brutal, fucking into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like it was made for this.

like you were made for him.

"gonna fuck you until you break," he snarls, hips slamming against your ass, cock dragging against your sore, cum-slick walls with every ruthless thrust.

"until your brain shuts off—until you forget anything but how full you are."

you cry into the bench and he grits his teeth. "how fucking owned you are."

he hits deeper, your whole body jolts.

"can't even push me out anymore, huh?" he seethes in your ear, "cunt's been fucked open so wide it needs me to stay."

your legs give out, but he doesn't let you fall, he holds you up. keeps your hips locked in place with bruising fingers and fucks you through it like he doesn't even hear your sobs anymore.

or maybe he does, and he likes them.

"this is what happens," he pants, breath hot and sharp against your back, "when you talk too much." he smacks your ass. "when you forget your place."

"now you know."

you try to answer but all that comes out is a gasping cry.

"that's right," he groans. "just cry, baby."

"cry while i fill you one more time."

and then he slams in—hard, deep, possessive—and groans through gritted teeth as he cums again inside you, cock twitching violently, cum spilling into your already wrecked pussy for the third time.

your cunt pulses. leaks. gapes. you fall limp beneath him. he stays in you for a long moment and lets it all sink in.

and then—he pulls out.

a broken moan escapes your throat. you feel it all rush out of you—hot, heavy, filthy—as his cum starts dripping out in thick streams, down your thighs, pooling under you on the bench.

you hear him exhale but you're too spent to even lift your head.

his hand ghosts across your ass one last time. not tender. not cruel.

just claiming.

"take the loss," he murmurs. "and clean yourself up."

and then—he walks away.

leaves you trembling. gaping. bred and ruined.

like a win was never even on the table.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

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jaysbaefie · 10 days ago