Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph
Summary: It's a Rule not to get involved in grown-up stories. But when your parents' lives are in danger, even you will break a Rule.
Based in this world (X) where a magic town forces people to live out popular stories/tropes
You’re used to your parents coming in and out of the house at all hours of the day. They always have a good excuse for why they keep such unusual schedules, but there’s no way they could have an excuse for everything. Being full time thieves is a hard thing to hide.
While they do their best to keep you out of whatever heist they’ve planned, there are some things that slip through. A grappling hook hanging over the edge of the mantle. A map of City Hall spread out over the dining room table, only partially covered by the nice table cloth that you use during the holidays. Police sketches on the news that bear a striking resemblance. Little things. Things you can ignore.
The old guy sitting at the table when you come down for school? Yeah, not something you can ignore.
“Oh,” the old guy says. He looks like he scams people who own yachts. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a linen suit at seven in the morning. He casually flips his phone face down and starts gathering suspicious financial documents back into a folder in front of him. “Good morning, kiddo.”
There’s a clatter from the living room and your mom lunges through the doorway. You haven’t seen her in two days and she looks rough. There are dark bags under her eyes and her hair is a frizzy cloud around her head.
“Fern,” she says, voice, tight, “honey. I thought you were staying at Caiden’s house.”
“I did the night before last,” you say. You’re trying to figure out how involved you need to get here. The guy is looking at you with way too much interest. It’d be just your luck if he tries to use you against your parents later down the line when he inevitably betrays them. At the same time, he looks like he’d leave one of your parents for dead if it benefited him in any way and you do not want that to happen. You let your backpack slide off your shoulder. “Who’s this?”
“Um,” your mom says. “He’s— he’s—“
The guy sits there smiling slightly, delighting in the rising tension.
“My half brother,” your dad says from behind you. He’s got motor oil high on his cheek and smells faintly of sweat and iron. He grins and, being a much better actor than your mom, you can only see a bit of uneasiness in his eyes. “Fern can know, darling. I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore.”
The guy is delighted. He rubs his hands together as he stands, stepping around the table to hug you. “That’s who I am,” he says, arms spread wide and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Your uncle. Uncle Ralph.”
Your dad steps in front of you, pretending like the hug was meant for him. You’re treated to Uncle Ralph’s grimace as he’s forced to accept the bone-shaking slaps your dad rains on his back.
“So good to have him back,” your dad says, clear warning in his voice. He turns, one arm still slung over Ralph’s shoulders. They look nothing alike. Your dad is completely bald, shoulders well-muscled under his working shirt, and he’s got a face made for laughing. Ralph is cologne-ad-handsome and scowling. Your dad forces himself to smile. “He’s only staying with us for a couple days.”
Yikes. You watch your mom hover in the opposite doorway. She’s not happy at the sound of Ralph staying for a couple of days, you can tell. But she doesn’t say anything to contradict them and her eyes are like daggers on Ralph rather than your dad.
You study the three adults. You make it a rule to never get involved in adult stories. There’s always a higher chance of a bad ending. Death, dismemberment, general mayhem. Unless there’s a romance component to their stories, there’s very rarely a happily ever after. Judging by your parents’ reactions, romance with Ralph isn’t in the future. So it’s a regular heist story. Regular heist stories with a kid…
Well, they end really, really badly. Usually for the parents. Unless the kid steps in at just the right time.
“Awesome,” you say. You run over your school schedule, calculating. There aren’t any tests coming up and you haven’t missed any classes yet this quarter. “Can I stay home from school? I’d love to get to know Uncle Ralph better.”
Your mom makes a noise of protest. “Did you say you had a- a school project?”
“Nope,” you say cheerfully. You kick your backpack to the side and slide around your dad to go to the fridge. You’re going to need breakfast before this one. “I can take a day off.”
“Won’t Caiden miss you?” Your dad is better at hiding his desperation than your mom, but you still catch the edge in his voice. “You can always see Ralph after school—“
“Caiden needs to make his own friends eventually,” you say. You keep looking in the fridge so they can’t see the expression on your face. You’re very worried about Caiden, but he knows the Rules. You’ve got to believe he’ll be fine for one day. Two, tops. You turn with a yogurt in hand to blink innocently at your parents. “Why can’t I just take one day off?”
“Well,” your dad hedges. “That’s—“
“Just one,” your mom says. She ignores the panicked glance your dad sends her. “Okay?”
The magic takes hold all at once. You watch as it washes the resistance from your parents’ shoulders so that they stand, slumped and defeated on either side of Ralph. It settles into your bones and whispers your new possible roles into your mind. Child. Hindrance. Bait. Winner. Loser.
“Great!” Ralph claps his hands together. His eyes are calculating as he looks you over. “I can’t wait to get to know you, Fern.”
You bare your teeth and take glee in the half-flinch Ralph can’t hide. “Same, Uncle Ralph,” you say. “Same.”
——48 hours later ——
Alarms blare, earth shatteringly loud in the stillness of the night. You’re crouched under a desk, a flash drive clenched in one hand, waiting for your parents to come back to get you. The complex is big enough that they’d hidden you in one building and gone to create a distraction in the other. If all goes to plan, the three of you will be at home in less than an hour.
You breathe in deeply through your nose, straining your ears for any indication that they’re on their way. All of your preparation comes down to this moment. There’s nothing else you can do to influence the story.
Someone enters the office and shuts the door behind them.
You hold your breath, knuckles white around the flash drive.
The screaming of the alarms continues but muffled enough that you can hear the footsteps of the person approaching your hiding spot. Your heart sinks. Not two sets of footsteps. One.
“Little niece,” Ralph croons. He stops what sounds like a dozen feet from your hiding spot. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Your mind races. He’s supposed to be dead. The first phase of the plan had involved swimming through flooded tunnels to get into the building. There’d been a problem with the equipment and he’d forced your mom to take his oxygen tank so she could continue on. Your mom cried when she got out, relaying how he’d swum away from her to hide his final moments.
He made my mom cry, you think. You roll out from under the desk, gaining your feet in the walkway between cubicles to face Ralph head on.
“Not surprised? I figured. I knew you knew I was alive,” Ralph says. He doesn’t look like a scam artist anymore. No, he looks like a true villain. His hair is tangled around his face and he’s no longer in the wetsuit you last saw him in. He’s wearing a guard’s uniform.While you and your parents struggled to infiltrate this place, he just walked right in the front door. “Clever little niece.”
You feel the magic of the town all around you now, thrumming with tension. If there was an orchestra soundtrack, it would be swelling over this dramatic reveal. You’re dressed like a mini-version of your dad in a full, black jumpsuit and you’ve got your mom’s grappling hook over your shoulder. Ralph’s uniform is all white and tan, just like the suit he first appeared in. You’ve been changed by this story. Dragged out of the naive high schooler persona you once inhabited to become a thief, like your parents.
Ralph? Ralph was always going to betray you.
“What happens now?” You gesture to Ralph and then to the building your parents are still in. “You fake your death and…take the flash drive?”
“By force, if necessary,” Ralph agrees. He smirks. “I knew I would never be able to take it off your dad or your mom. They’re the best hand-to-hand specialists in the business. But their defenseless, untrained daughter? It was a cakewalk to manipulate the situation in my favor.” His face hardens and he holds out a hand. “The flash drive, Fern. I know you have it.”
You let the moment stretch. The alarms are still blaring and you don’t hear the car horn that’s supposed to be the signal for you to come out. Your parents aren’t coming yet. They probably won’t make it in time.
Your shoulders shake. You duck your chin against your chest to hide your expression. The flash drive is hot in your hand.
“I don’t have all day, Fern,” Ralph growls. “Give me the flash drive!”
You give in. You throw back your head, howling with laughter.
Ralph blinks, hand faltering. “What?”
“I knew you knew that I knew you faked your death,” you say. You snort a little. “Giving up an oxygen tank? Swimming away to die? It was all just a little too kind for the Uncle Ralph I know.”
Ralph clicks his tongue. He’s wrong-footed, eyes darting to the doors and windows, but trying to hide it.“You should know that I’m not your uncle.”
“No duh,” you say. You wipe your eyes. “That’s why I’ve been watching you this entire time. I know you were in contact with the CEO. I know he paid you to steal the prototype and blame my parents for its theft and for the theft of the financial records.”
“Well,” Ralph says, “I knew you overheard that phone call. So I’ve been monitoring your conversations with your parents this entire time! That’s how I found out that they were planning to frame me for the theft of the financial records if we got caught. So I faked my death and set the alarms off on them so they’d be caught red-handed!”
“I knew you knew I overheard the phone call,” you counter. A spotlight outside swings towards you, silhouetting you for this revelation. “I knew that neither of my parents could stop you when you had such a powerful backer. Only one person could get in your way. That’s why I called —“
“The police, I know,” Ralph says. He takes an aggressive step towards you and the spotlight casts him in shadow like an avenging angel. “What you don’t know is that I was the operator on the other end of the line! I knew you knew your parents wouldn’t be able to get out of my little web. They were going down and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Why you didn’t tell your parents, I don’t know. But I knew the instant you knew I faked my death, you’d call. So I hacked your phone—“
“I knew you hacked my phone,” you interrupt, taking your own aggressive step forward. Ralph’s mouth clicks shut. The magic of the story wavers around you as the plot twists yet again. “So I played your little game and pretended that I thought I was talking to the police.” You draw out your phone and turn it to show Ralph. “But really? I was sending an email to your boss.”
The magic is really confused now. It undulates around you, trying to keep the narrative tension tight. Ralph is struggling to follow the timeline of what you’re describing and, to be honest, so are you.
“The CEO?” Ralph shakes his head. “No, he’s already in on everything. He knows that I hired your parents to steal the financial records to cover for when I stole the prototype for him so that the shareholders would never know it doesn’t work—“
Magic sparks out of his eyes as he talks faster and faster, trying to keep one step ahead in this convoluted story. You’d pity him if he hadn’t made your mom cry.
“Not him,” you say, “your real boss.”
The magic snaps like a twig. The alarms stop blaring and the searchlight blinks out as the electricity dies in the building. The light of the full moon streams through the windows. Ralph gapes at you, frozen with his hand still outstretched for the blank flash drive you’re holding.
“Don’t you think it’s strange,” you continue softly. This is the tricky part. You’ve met Ralph toe-to-toe. If you’re not careful, you’re going to become his arch nemesis. “Why would the CEO hire not one, but two teams of thieves for this?”
“Your parents are the smokescreen,” Ralph says numbly. But his eyes are far away. “So that I don’t get caught stealing the prototype—“
“But the CEO wants people to know the prototype got stolen,” you say. The magic is starting up again, this new narrative forming right before your eyes. You talk a little faster. You need to get out of the center of the story before it solidifies. “Why wouldn’t he just hire the one team to do that? Why the financial records as well? It doesn’t make sense.”
Ralph is silent for a long moment. Then he inhales sharply, body jolting as if waking. “No,” he breathes. “No, it does.”
You nod. “The shareholders are your real boss. They don’t want the stock to go down. They want it to go up. Their real goal is the financial records. The prototype is a trap. A trap for—“
“A trap for me,” Ralph says. He finally looks back at you, his jaw square. There’s the sound of a car engine in the distance. “I see it now. I see everything. From the very beginning, it wasn’t about the company. It wasn’t about the money. It wasn’t even about the CEO. It was about me.”
Oh geez. You watch as Ralph paces to the window. You weren’t going to say that. You were going to claim the prototype theft was a trap for the CEO. That way the shareholders could put someone a little more willing to fudge the books in power. That way Ralph and the CEO would team up against the shareholders and resolve it together. If Ralph thinks this whole ridiculous sequence of events revolves around him…
You purse your lips and stay quiet as Ralph stares out towards the other office building.
“I’m sorry,” Ralph says. He turns and, with the moon backlighting him, he looks very tragic. Like a lone wolf. Or an anti-hero. “Forget everything you know, Fern. I shouldn’t have dragged you or your parents into this.” He closes his eyes briefly. “This is…this next job has to be me. Just me.”
You like the sound of that.
“My parents think you’re dead,” you say. You hold up your hands when he looks tragically back at you. “I don’t know what you realized, but this?” You whistle lowly. “I’m seventeen. I can’t be involved in this.”
“And you won’t be,” Ralph says. He clenches one hand into a fist, shaking it slightly. “After everything I’ve done, I owe your parents that. So long as they think I’m dead, they’ll be safe. All of you will be safe.”
“Great,” you say. A car honks outside. “Be safe, Ralph.” You turn to go.
“You too, Fern,” Ralph says. He laughs a little, seemingly unbothered by your hasty retreat. “It was fun being your uncle.”
You’re almost to the door. The magic is at your back. “Yep. Too bad you’re dead to us now. Off on your lone-wolf crusade. Later.”
You unwillingly pause at the door. You can feel the story drifting all around you. You don’t turn to look at him. “Yes, Ralph?”
“Your mom,” Ralph says awkwardly. Like the words hurt him. “She… she cried for me, didn’t she?”
“Nope,” you say. “No, she did not.”
“Oh,” Ralph says, nonplussed. “I just thought—“
“Bye, Ralph,” you say and race out the door.
Thanks for reading! I really love this universe and especially Fern!
Next week’s short story is already up on my Patreon (X)! If you’d like to support me and read stories a full week in advance, please check me out there!
Summary: You are caught by a devil in the woods. She wants to talk about deals and you have always been a good listener.
Pairing: Floch x Reader x Eren (bisexual threesome)
Summary: You, a new recruit for the Jaegerists, come to Floch asking if there’s anything else you can do for the cause.
CW: dubcon, manipulation, corruption kink, virginity loss, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, power imbalance. Use of the word “sir” to refer to Floch and Eren. oral (both m and f -> m receiving). Fingering. Penetrative sex. Throat fucking. Cum eating. Spit play.
A/N: Do not perceive me. This is extremely OOC. I don’t care <3 I have no explanation for the ending I'm sorry in advance it came to me in a cursed discord chat...
Thank you to Kana @/ficsforeren for reading this fic
Tagging: @shibuyawardnetwork 😌
When you decided to join the Jaegerists, it was all with good intentions. To protect and preserve your homeland, to defend your people’s right to live and to reproduce, and to fight on against your foreign oppressors. Everything they stood for made sense to you, when you made that impassioned decision to join their ranks. It’s been a couple of weeks since you joined, and save for the occasional greeting to Floch and Eren, you kept to your group and did whatever you were instructed to do. You respect Floch and Eren, even if it’s from afar; you feel nothing but admiration for them. Afterall, they’re leading the charge to protect your homeland. They’re your saviors.
That’s why, one evening when it’s way past dinner time and everyone’s preparing for the evening, you find yourself walking to the leader’s office of your own volition. You’re just so impassioned for the cause. Walking around and keeping lookout, rearranging and stockpiling weapons, moving boxes and other mundane tasks–is that all there is?
“Isn’t there something more I can do?” You ask the disinterested redhead before you. It’s Floch who’s standing before you, leaning against the office desk with legs crossed at the ankles, and his arms crossed over his chest. He takes one good look at you: you’re sitting in a chair in front of him, eyes pleading. So desperate to be useful.
Something in the back of his mind tells him that you look kinda pretty like that, sitting all cute and needy in front of him, looking up at him with those doe eyes.
He jokingly replies, “You can get on your knees.”
To his surprise, you oblige. The chair drags along the hardwood, making an awfully loud sound, as you push it back and get on your knees in front of him. Maybe it’s just Floch’s perverted thoughts but he’s already growing hard in his pants at the sight.
“I was kidding, you know,” he says. He unfolds his arms and instead grips onto the edge of the table behind him.
“I’m not, Floch,” you tell him, “I want to do more around here. To help.”
“You know what I just asked of you, don’t you?” He replies, and you pick up a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You don’t just go offering that to anyone.”
“You’re not just anyone. You and Mr. Jaeger–you’re our leaders,” you reach up to his belt and his eyes widen in surprise. “I want to be useful to you.”
He chuckles darkly at the innocent look that paints your features, despite what you’re offering to him with your hands. “You really are as stupid as everyone says you are. Fine. Go ahead.”
Despite his harsh words, you pull open his belt, the metal clinking loud in the silent office, and then proceed to unbutton his pants. Once his bottoms come down to his thighs, you’re met with his cock, half-hard, flushed tip marked with just a bead of precum.
Floch can tell by the look on your face: confused eyes, lips parted in concentration, brows furrowed–that you’re a virgin.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how,” he mocks as you blink up at him. He can almost taste the saltiness of the tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. “Why would you offer it if you don’t even know how?”
“I-I,” you stutter, your fingers curling into the waistband of his pants around his thighs. You’re still gripping onto his pants like an anchor. He reaches down to peel your fingers off, and places one of your hands around his shaft.
“C’mon. Get on with it. Eren’s supposed to be here soon.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. Eren will be here?
You tentatively move your hand up and down Floch’s length, and it hardens and swells with each stroke, until it becomes rigidly hard. Floch gathers your hair into his hand, making a ponytail, and uses it to tilt your head back, until your eyes meet his.
“Use your mouth.” He says down to you, “and watch your teeth.”
“O-Okay,” you nod. You part your lips and Floch watches with satisfaction as your tongue darts out towards his tip. You’re unsure what to do, so you flick your tongue over the head as you slowly move your hand. He starts to lose his patience with you and your poor excuse for a blow job.
“Faster,” he barks. “How’d we get such a sad excuse for a recruit?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologize, shame dampening your lower eyelashes in the form of tears. You part your lips wider, and this time Floch doesn’t wait for you–he pushes his tip in past your lips. On instinct your jaw drops, and you feel his salty taste coat your tongue as he goes in farther and farther. This sensation of having this heavy weight on your tongue, at first you’re frightened to do a bad job, but as the tip reaches the back of your throat, suddenly something in Floch’s expression changes. Just the slight uptick of his breathing, and the stiffening of his body: you’re affecting him. If only to prove him wrong, you want to do more.
Your hands steady you by way of holding onto his thighs. You dip your head lower, your eyes seeking his approval. You feel drool seeping the edges of your lips and down to your chin, but when he rutts his hips forward you let him. Below the green fabric of your long skirt, your knees burn from kneeling on the harsh floor.
“Gonna have to do this myself,” he mutters. When his grip on your hair gets tighter and he starts to use you, you let him. He holds your head still by way of this makeshift ponytail, and begins to fuck your throat. You feel yourself gagging and tears spilling down your cheeks. But when your throat closes around him he lets out a satisfied groan–it feels fucking good, despite your inexperience. When you struggle to breathe you tap frantically on his thigh and he lets you go suddenly, pushing you away from his cock.
“Fuck, just–” Floch looks around the room, until his gaze lands on his desk beside him. He shoves off whatever was there and grabs hold of your bicep. “Get on the desk. And take off that skirt, it’ll just be in the way”
“But–” Your protest dies in your throat as he pushes you down. You lay back against the desk, hair splaying out in every direction and knees buckled together. Floch waits but you don’t make a move to remove your clothing.
“What are you waiting for? I said take off your skirt, whore.”
You lift your hips off the desk and begin to remove your skirt, eyes on Floch the whole time. You ask out loud, “Why?”
You gasp as he reaches down for your panties. He claws them off your legs as he says, “You said you want to be useful don’t you?”
Floch’s hands grip your thighs and pull you to the edge of the desk. He rests your ankles on his shoulders. He has half a mind to fuck you now, your cunt looking so wet and pretty, but he knows better than that. You watch in silence. What is it that you want him to do? You’re too shocked by this entire thing to even string a coherent thought together. You weren’t expecting it to go this far, but if that’s what he wanted, you’d let him.
Right as Flochs hand comes down to your mound, the door to the office swings open. You and Floch both look in the direction of the sound, and are met with harsh green eyes. Eren’s. He begins to walk inside, an impassive expression on his face. Anxiety pools in your stomach, and embarrassment too, at being caught in a prone position like this. It looks to any onlooker as if Floch was just about to fuck you. You hope Eren doesn’t get the wrong idea.
Floch’s the first to speak. “Have you met the new recruit?” He asks, ending the question with your name. Floch inserts two fingers at once past your entrance. There’s nothing gentle about his actions–he’s doing it for one purpose only: to prep you. It’s a stretch, taking two at once so suddenly, and you whine as he pumps them in and out.
Your eyes follow Eren, who shrugs off his hooded sweater. “Yeah, I have,” he looks directly at you when he answers, placing his sweater over the chair that you sat at earlier. “Desperate little thing, always wanting to please.”
“I just want to do everything I can for Eldia–I’ll do anything,” you reply.
“That includes this, apparently,” Floch snickers. Floch forms scissoring motions with his two fingers inside of you. You bite harshly on your lip, to contain a moan that threatens to slip out.
“That true?” Eren asks curiously, amused even.
“Y-Yes, sir,” your voice is practically a whine. “I’d do anything for you–you’re both risking your lives for us. ‘s the least I could do.”
“That’s a pretty funny way of showing your gratitude,” Eren replies, but even still he begins to pull his shirt off his back. He approaches you shirtless, with jeans unbuttoned. He stands on the other edge of the desk, right by your head, and looks down at you. He says, his expression softening just a little, “But if this is how you want it…you’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” you squeak out as Floch’s fingers curl up inside you. It feels good but suddenly, with Eren in the room, you don’t want to make a peep if it’s not for Eren. He’s the one you want to please now.
Just as an orgasm begins to form in your core, Floch pulls his fingers away. He brings them to your lips, to paint them and your jaw with your essence.
“Open your mouth,” he tells you. And though you’re expecting his fingers to slide in, before he does so, he spits in your mouth. He coats his fingers with both yours and his spit and then barks out, “Clean ‘em off.”
You suck on Floch’s fingers as instructed, looking up at Eren the whole time. He says nothing, watching you with an intense gaze as you so obediently do everything Floch tells you to. When Floch’s satisfied he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wipes them on your jaw, and steps aside. He leaves you to Eren’s bidding, like a meal served on a silver platter.
When Eren makes his way to your cunt, it’s the first time his expression becomes anything other than pure boredom. In fact, a coy grin spreads across his face as he stares down at your glistening folds. “Pretty.” He muses, looking like a predator about to feast on his prey.
“She’s a virgin,” Floch counters, saying it as if it’s something distasteful, the words bitter on his tongue.
“Even better,” Eren says as he reaches into his unbuttoned pants. He pulls out his cock and your eyes widen at its size, it's so heavy it bobs with its weight. He spits in his palm and lathers it up and down his shaft with his fist. Then, he brings your ankles to his shoulders, like Floch did. Only now, he places his cock flat against your pelvis. It looks so massive against your frame, but that only excites him. He taps it against your skin, precum and spit painting it glossy. His eyes flicker towards you for a moment, a dangerous look in those fiery greens.
“Are you gonna…” Your words trail off as Eren rubs the head of his cock between your folds.
“You don’t want to?” Eren asks, his voice teasing. Like he already knows the answer. “I thought you’d do anything?”
Your eyes flicker between the two men, Eren at your cunt, and Floch positioning himself at your mouth. They’re giving you all their attention, the two most important men in the Jaegerists. Isn’t this what you wanted, to be useful to them? To please them?
“Yes, I want to,” you nodded.
Floch takes his place over on the edge of the desk where your head is, and taps the head of his cock against your lips. “Open.”
Eren lines himself up with your entrance, tip poking and prodding at that tight little hole. Floch’s busy tapping the head of his cock against your lips. The back of his hands knock at your knees. “Spread your legs.”
When you hesitate, Eren’s hands spread your knees apart for you. You relax your legs and as Eren begins to push inside you, you pull your knees closer to your chest.
Eren pushes the back of your thighs down further, till your legs are pressed right into your chest. He hisses at the stretch. “You’re–tight, fuck, so fucking tight.”
He goes slowly, inch by inch, and you’re a whimpering, whining mess. He’s only halfway in when you start whining his name, and god it’s so fucking distracting.
“Shut her up,” he hisses, and looks at Floch. Floch nods, and almost immediately you feel his cock being rammed down your throat. Eren wastes no time after that, pushing himself the rest of the way into your cunt with a grunt. Your moans are silenced by Floch’s dick in your mouth, thankfully.
It’s the first time a man’s ever been inside you, and you feel so full. The stretch stings a little, but you’re too preoccupied to notice. Floch’s already picking up the pace in your mouth, low groans slipping past his lips as he fucks your throat just as harshly as he did before.
As soon as Eren’s in to the hilt, he’s pulling back to the tip and slamming himself back in. He moans in satisfaction: virgin pussy is truly the fucking best, he thinks to himself. Especially when the girl is as cute and pliable as you are, so willing to do anything for some stupid ideal that you’d let two horny guys fuck you like this. Every thrust of Eren’s hips is punctuated by you humming and whining against Floch’s cock. Eren doesn’t care–all he cares about is the way your cunt squeezes him so tight and your walls flutter around his length. The sounds of sex are so loud: the squelching, the moaning, the grunting, its all so fucking loud. It drowns out all your thoughts, whatever reservations you may have had, and all you want is to please them, to be useful to your leaders Floch and Eren.
You feel Eren’s fingers dig into your hips as he moves faster and faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin like music to his ears. He even feels you tightening around him.
“You like this?” He asks, “Like being fucked like this?”
You feel Floch’s hips beginning to stutter, his breathing hitching in his chest. He’s about to snap, he knows it, so he pulls out of your mouth. You start sputtering, your chest heaving to catch your breath. There’s tears that frame your eyes and, at your angle, drip down onto your forehead and into your hair. Your face is a mess, covered in tears, drool, and even snot as you struggled to breathe.
Eren’s thrusts become pointed, harsher, as he asks, “I said do you like it?”
Floch’s fisting his cock rapidly, his own chest heaving just like yours. “Ah, yes, Eren–wait, Floch–”
“Stick out your fucking tongue,” Floch tells you. You obey, but when he does finish, none of it makes it to your mouth. Instead, his cum paints your face, thick ropes of white covering your lips, nose, even close to your eyes as he groans loudly with his release. Floch continues to move his fist, bucking his hips, till every last drop colors your cheeks.
Despite how humiliating you look right now, you can’t stop your body’s orgasm as it washes over you. Eren’s cock rocks into you over and over, hitting your cervix and stretching your walls perfectly, how can you pretend it doesn’t feel good? You can’t, and now with your mouth free you’re able to tell him so. “Eren–Eren–oh, God–” you cry as your walls clamp down on his cock.
“Fucking–shit,” Eren curses as you’re cumming on his cock. He lets go of your legs and pulls out, and you whimper as your cunt continues to quiver around nothing with aftershocks of your orgasm. Eren moves up to your mouth, and you cry around it as he shoves his cock into your abused throat. You’re too tired to put any effort into it–your jaw’s too sore to suck him off, your neck’s too tired to move your mouth up and down his shaft.
Eren groans in frustration–he wants to cum, but obviously not inside your cunt. But your mouth’s doing absolutely nothing to help him.
Floch, watching from the other side of the desk, comes around to Eren’s side.
“Fucking pathetic,” he says, his glare in your direction, before he himself gets on his knees in front of Eren.
To your surprise, Floch takes over for you. You watch, Floch’s cum still dripping down your face, as Floch’s mouth comes down around Eren’s cock. And, as if he’d done this many times before (they would neither confirm nor deny such a thing), he dips his head down halfway and uses his fist to stroke the base. Eren’s already close enough from fucking you, that it doesn’t take much effort at all from Floch to get Eren to his peak. Eren’s head is thrown back, expletives leaving his lips as Floch sucks him off, and to your surprise Floch doesn’t even gag once. No wonder he thought you were so pathetic: he’s a fucking expert.
“Fuck you, Floch,” Eren hisses, as if he’s mad at himself for enjoying what’s happening to him. But you can see Eren beginning to thrust into Floch’s mouth regardless, his moans carrying out of his chest and filling up the room with their sound. With a drawn out groan he cums in Floch’s mouth. He stuffs himself back into his pants soon after he jerks himself off to completion.
You heave a sigh of relief, thinking that it’s all over. But Floch rises and comes over to you, grabs your jaw, and in your open mouth he spits Eren’s cum onto your tongue.
“That’s yours, you useless slut.”
He draws some of his cum, sticky and messy all over your face, past your lips with his fingers. Then, he clamps your mouth shut with his hand. “Swallow.”
You obediently swallow both men’s cum in your mouth, and it feels absolutely horrid against your raw throat. But when you’re done you show Floch your empty tongue, and he pats your sticky cheek. “Good.”
Eren turns to leave, picking up his shirt and sweater and placing them over his shoulders. Floch’s buttoning up his pants. And you’re laying there, in disbelief, bottomless, your face sticky with cum. Floch tosses a handkerchief at you out of pity, and you use it to wipe at your face until it’s dry.
As he tosses you your skirt, Floch says, “Get dressed.” But he doesn’t hand you your underwear. With a smirk he says, “I’ll be keeping this.”
And then you watch as both men are about to leave the office.
“Wait!” you call out, and they both turn around towards you. You rise up and hold the skirt over your bare legs, covering your shame. “Um–is that it? Did I do good?”
Under his breath Floch mutters, “fucking idiot.”
Your eyes meet Eren’s.
He says, “Could’ve been better. Maybe next time.”
Then he leaves the room along with Floch, leaving you alone to dress in the now quiet office.
You can only focus on those two words as you put your skirt back on, your mind in a trance.