#Women Wearing Pull Ups | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sahkuna · 6 months ago

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OH, HIM? HE'S SPOKEN FOR — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: one too many women at this wedding think they've got a shot with gojo satoru. but what they fail to realize is none of them are you, the one who holds his unwavering devotion.

content warning(s): non-curse au, plot before the eventual smut so 18+ mdni, afab/fem! reader, mentions reader wearing a dress, established relationship, unprotected sex, gojo's impatient so you guys get it on an empty room upstairs, exhibitionism (sorta kinda?), brief mentions of jealousy, pet names.

word count: 4.6k+ // i lurve weddings.

For the fifth time this evening, Gojo’s teeth catch his inner cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to spread across his lips.

You’ve got a cute habit of toying with pieces of your clothing or whatever object was within your range whenever something’s nagging at your mind. He wonders to himself if this was something you were aware of.

Unconscious of Satoru’s intense gaze on you, you idly gulp down a cold glass of water and breathe a heavy sigh.

As the evening persists, you’re starting to feel your social battery deplete by the second. It’s been almost a whopping 5 hours since the wedding reception began, and with every hour that crept closer to midnight the more you wanted to throw in the towel and go home.

The poor music selection blaring from the speakers stationed around the venue— a collection composed by the newlywed couple, you presume— didn’t aid in your fight to stay here any longer than necessary.

Your index finger mindlessly loops and unloops around the straps of your attire, and Gojo can’t help but softly knock his foot with yours underneath the table to pull you out of your daze.

Rather than blatantly asking what was wrong, Satoru settles for something else.

“Relax,” he says in an attempt to settle your nerves. Any effort that he’s previously made to stop himself from smiling is ultimately shot down the moment your eyes catch his. “You look nice, quit worryin’.”

Though you did look nice, the word alone wasn’t enough to bring any justice to how you looked tonight. The venue’s warm and orange lighting flattered and illuminated you too well. There’s more he wants to say, and it’s all on the tip of his tongue.

But Gojo opts to sit back, eyes soft as they make a trail across your bare shoulders, eventually working his gaze up to your face. There, he traces your features slowly, from your eyes down to your cheeks and they finally stop at your lips.

And his eyes just stay there for a few seconds, lingering on your mouth.

He wants to kiss you so badly.

To him, it didn’t matter if there was a group of old geezers who you two had to share a table with. Gojo would tune them all out if he had to. But knowing him, the moment his lips would press against yours he wouldn’t be able to pull away on his own accord.

And you’d rip him a new one if you two ever became “that couple” engaging in heavy practices of PDA in front of such critical eyes.

So, picking up the same glass that you drank from, Gojo drinks from it, swallowing down the rest of your water along with the nagging urge to nip and lick his way into your mouth.

Huffing at the fact that he’s chugged down your drink in one go— despite clearly having more than enough in his glass— you wrestle the cup out of Gojo’s grasp and place it far from his reach.

“Thank you for that, Satoru,” you respond, to both his compliment and how he’s done away with all your water.

Gojo hums in acknowledgement, completely missing the snarky tone your voice carried. “I’m serious though, you look really good.”

You flash him a small smile at this. However, it’s short-lived because seconds later your lips pull into a soft pout.

Noticing the drastic change in your mood, Gojo scoots his chair closer to you so he can get a better read on the situation.

He presses his finger to your forehead, tapping once, then twice. “What’s going on up there, hm?” he inquires.

A bit apprehensive, you start with a drawn-out, “Well…”

Throughout the evening as Gojo's plus one to his distant relative’s wedding, you’ve noticed that no matter where you step the guests at this venue seem to have eyes on you. Or more so to speak, who you came with.

It’s no secret that Gojo draws attention to himself wherever he goes, that part doesn’t need much explaining— especially when his appearance sticks out like a ridiculously beautiful, jaw-droppingly gorgeous sore thumb. But today his magnetic charm has pulled much more than you expected.

Like now.

A couple of tables away from where you two sit— perhaps two or three— is where you spot them. There’s a small group of women who hide their blushes and bashful smiles behind their hands, giggling and blatantly ogling at your dashing boyfriend.

You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t bother you.

…Because it did, big time.

Suppressing the urge to cringe physically, you turn your sights toward Gojo. “Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask, nodding your head toward the table of women who were whispering amongst themselves.

You could count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to pretend not to eavesdrop whenever one of the bridesmaids would muster up their courage and make their way up to Gojo whenever he was away from you— which was rare because despite being the one who invited you to the wedding, Satoru stuck to you as if he knew no one here.

Humming for a bit, Gojo throws an uncaring glance over his shoulder to view the mini fan club he had unknowingly accumulated tonight. A few have the decency to abruptly look away when he does so, not wanting to be caught in the act. But the others? They boldly send him flirtatious smiles and shy waves, accented with blushing cheeks.

None of which he returns, but you still feel a gnawing ache settle in your stomach.

Gross.

Finally answering your question, Gojo meets your troubled gaze. “Nah, not really,” he replies. “It gets bothersome, sure, but I usually just ignore it all.”

You don’t respond to this and decide to flick your gaze elsewhere. If he isn’t bothered by it, then this isn’t even that big of a deal. Don’t let it get to you. It’s fine! Perfectly fine.

Blue eyes trail along your face, tracing your expression slowly. Gojo’s face softens, and his hand slips under the table and brushes against your knee before he squeezes. “Why?” he asks suddenly. “Does it bother you?”

Yes. “No,” you respond a bit too quickly.

“‘No’?” he tries again. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to crack.

“Fine. It does a bit,” you hiss bitterly, your poker face falling into shambles completely. Gojo’s smile stretches a little wider. “So can we leave now, please?”

You don’t know if you can withstand another hour in here with all things considered.

It’s also essential to note how you gradually find yourself nodding off to sleep every ten minutes or so the longer you’re here at this venue. You’re hoping and praying Gojo takes the bait so he would finally shoot Ichiji a text telling him he should be coming to the venue to pick you two up soon.

Behind his rounded shades, confusion swirls in his gaze and a subtle pout tugs at his lips. “But they haven’t even handed out the cake yet!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You want to throw your head back in exasperation at the fact that the sole reason why you guys were staying out so late was over a damn cake.

Throwing a cautious glance over your shoulder, you spot the culprit. An extravagant-looking tower of vanilla fondant stares back at you, where it’s situated many tables away from you and over to where the bride and groom sit.

You don’t know why Satoru likes that crap anyway, fondant is known for its notoriously awful flavour because of how it tastes like an extremely sugary, yet stale donut glaze left out for far too long.

“Oh my God,” you wail, but you’re abruptly aware that your volume has garnered a few pairs of curious eyes to land on you and Satoru from various tables around you.

Smiling awkwardly at your tablemates, you’re prompted to lean in close to the stubborn white-haired man and lower your tone so only he’s privy to what you say next. “Can’t you ask Ijichi to grab something sweet for you on our way to your place?”

Unyielding, Gojo shakes his head. “I’ve tried, believe me,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “But he's always on about how impractical it is for a sweets shop to be open at this time of night.”

He can’t be serious right now. You think you’re starting to reach your wits' end. “You’re kidding me.”

Thinking you also find Ijichi’s claims outlandish, Gojo leans back in his seat more comfortably. He’s relieved you’re taking his side. “Right?! I tell him all the time that there’s bound to be—”

“I mean you, Satoru,” you say, flashing him a face of disbelief. Gojo wilts a little at this and pouts.

Pursing his lips, it seems like he’s seriously giving your question some thought. You don’t fault Gojo for having a sweet tooth, but sometimes you wish you could ween him off it. Especially since they got you into predicaments such as this.

But, there is one more thing that Gojo Satoru loves more than his sweets.

And that’s you.

“Those women really did a number on you, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you throw an incredulous look Gojo’s way. The abrupt topic change flipped so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. He’s purposefully trying to provoke you.

But why?

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, “What does that have to do with—”

Gojo pushes his chair away from the fancy table and shoves himself up to his feet. Just where does he think he’s going? “You wanna leave, right?”

Like this, you’re able to drink in just how appealing he looks tonight. It’s no wonder since walking in, everyone seemed to rubber-neck their attention to where you two were seated.

You nod slowly, and your hesitant nature has him practically purring when he says, “So let me take you upstairs then. Show ‘em that I’m spoken for already.”

And at that very moment, you swear you hear the middle-aged woman whose chair is seated one space away from you choke on her drink— you don’t blame her.

But there’s no way she could’ve heard everything… let alone understand the connotations of what he’s said, right?

She aims a displeased once over toward you and Satoru’s direction and dramatically shuffles her seat closer toward her unsuspecting husband. “My goodness,” she mutters under her breath.

Okay, so she’s heard everything.

Gojo laughs under his breath at the guest’s over-the-top antics and your blood runs a little hot.

Pushing his frames off the bridge of his nose, Gojo’s hand slides them past his hairline to rest on his head. He offers you his hand. “Come with me.”

And you’re sitting there, staring dumbly at his perfectly glossed lips that are decorated with a wicked smile because he knows. He knows you’ll let him whisk you away upstairs to do what even God wants nothing to know of.

Carefully, Gojo wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you to your feet. “Let’s go.” Delicate fingers slide down past your palm and lace themselves with yours. You move with him when he pulls you toward the back of the venue, near the huge wooden double doors and toward the exit. Leaving behind many shocked guests and a dejected party of bridesmaids.

Which reminds you…

Before you both slip out from view entirely, over your right shoulder you childishly poke your tongue out at the group of women right as the door is about to click shut.

A sense of relief washes over you when you both finally step out of the ballroom and into the vacant grand hallway. There’s no boisterous noise to pound away inside your skull, just the gentle sound of you and Satoru’s footsteps padding down the marble flooring.

There’s a mix of emotions that swirl inside of you with each step that’s taken toward the main staircase and up to whichever room Gojo wishes to… well, fool around with you in. “You stick your tongue out at them?” he asks.

How in the hell would he have been able to guess that? You stare long and hard at the back of his head, half expecting to catch a glimpse of a third eye you didn’t know was there. However, there’s nothing but white tufts of snowy, white hair glaring back at you.

Or maybe you’re just that predictable.

“By accident,” you murmur, not even bothering to think up an explanation for your weak excuse.

Repeating your answer to himself, Satoru grins. “Cute.”

Stopping in front of one of the doors, with your hand still in his, he knocks on the door with his free hand, silently waiting for a response.

When there are no signs of life on the other side, Satoru twists the knob and carelessly kicks the door wide open with his black leather shoe. The action was so harsh that the metal knob clunks loudly against the wall,— seeing that there was no door stopper— its sound reverberating off the many walls inside the building.

“Satoru!”

Uncaring for the commotion he’s made, Satoru squeezes your hand before he releases his grip and pulls you inside the small room.

“Relax,” he drawls, before flicking on the light and kicking the door shut behind him— this time with a little more tact. “It’s fine, no one’s here anyway.”

No longer tethered by your intertwined hands, Satoru plops himself down onto one of the two leather couches and sinks into the seat.

Exhaling softly, you shake your head and follow your boyfriend to where he’s seated. You’re about to sit down adjacent to him until his hands abruptly shoot out to stop you.

“Y’know…” he starts, and you’re prompted to stand in between his open legs. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders when he glances up at you, cerulean eyes shimmering when he tells you, “It was kinda cute seeing you get all mad down there.”

“I wasn’t mad!” you deny, a half-truth and half-lie. “It just got to be too much is all.”

Pulling your body closer in between his spread legs, you feel something firm press against you. He couldn’t possibly be… “Are you seriously…” You swallow and clear your throat, trying to not let the heady tone of your voice take over. “Are you seriously hard right now?!”

You emit a pathetic squawk when Satoru’s hands brush up against the back of your knees. His palms run higher and higher up your legs, and the fabric of your dress pools around his forearms until they stop right under the swell of your ass.

“What can I say?” he breathes, his eyes burning with intensity the more he stares at your face, searching for something. “I like it when you get jealous over me.”

This man…

“Wasn’t jealous, either,” you say, leaning more into his touch. The more you stay like this without the two of you doing anything to combat the growing sexual tension, the more desperate and needy you become.

“Yeah?”

A heavy heat settles through your entire body when you slide down and sit on Satoru’s lap. “Yeah…”

His breath heaving in his chest, Satoru leans forward and kisses you, sighing blissfully against your mouth the moment they’re pressed together. Eyes closing, the gentle press of Satoru’s lips— soft and warm— has got you smiling against his skin, to which he returns one of his own.

Dragging his mouth away from yours, he presses a trail of searing, lingering kisses from your cheek and down your jaw.

Pressing in closer, a puff of warm air fans out over the curve of your neck.

“I’ll make you forget aaall about them,” he whispers his promise to you, fingers curling into your waist. “Make you feel so full.”

Growing flustered with how explicit he’s become with his words— a habit of his that seems to materialize only when you two get like this—your face is screwed tight with embarrassment and you faintly nudge his face out from your proximity and bury yours into his neck.

“You… you talk a lot,” is all you can muster as you pull him tighter into your embrace.

Satoru’s lips curl into a small smile and he squeezes your hips. The deliberately slow trail of his fingertips smoothing their way from your waist down to the bottom hem of your dress had your mind dizzy with anticipation.

When they slip underneath your attire, you’re not surprised when he starts to get more handsy. Palming at your thighs before ultimately winding up to the lacey material of your underwear. His index fingers hook around them, making an effort to tug them off you, but he can’t seem to do that just yet due to the obstacle of you sitting on his lap.

Groaning, Satoru jumps his shoulder, prodding you to lift your face from his neck so that you may see what he wants from you. “Help me out, will you?”

You’re more than happy to oblige by a simple lift of your hips off his lap. With the weight of you temporarily gone, Satoru lowers the underwear down your thighs and to your knees.

One leg at a time you step out of them, leaving nothing but the cool, air-conditioned air of the room breeze past your exposed cunt.

Bunching the garment in his hand, Satoru skillfully tosses it across the room… only for it to land unceremoniously atop a fake fern tucked into a corner of the room.

“Hey!”

Breezing past your sudden exclamation, Satoru's hands slide up your bare thighs and his fingertips tease over your skin, eventually grazing your pussy. When your hips inadvertently jerk back the moment they brush over your clit, your boyfriend holds you still against him.

“Sensitive, huh?” he asks, turning his head to press an affectionate kiss onto your warm cheek. “That’s one of the things I like most about you, how reactive you are.”

Not stopping with his ministrations, your boyfriend’s fingers stroke your bud, rubbing excruciating slow circles against you that send you reeling at the palm of his hands.

Sounds of content are breathed out from his lungs when he starts to feel you grow wetter and wetter the more he toys with you. Your heart’s pounding loud against your chest, and you’re positive that if Satoru were to press his ear against you and listen real close, he’d be able to hear it.

Groaning, you exhale a pathetic string of nonsense into your boyfriend’s clothed shoulder, tugging harshly at his tie when you start to feel that familiar searing heat start to come undone when he slinks a finger inside you— gathering at the slippery arousal pooling around your inner thighs— only to take it back out again, drawing intricate shapes onto your clit.

“Oh my God,” you mewl, riding his hand now, shedding out of the once flustered facade you had moments prior.

Whispering your name, Satoru unwraps his arm from your waist so he may turn your face to look at him with the free hand that isn’t currently hidden underneath your dress. The tips of your noses brush and he watches you silently with unadulterated desire as you practically come undone by his hand.

“Kiss me,” he demands, his palm pressing against the back of your nape to bring you closer to him, and you do as you’re told.

Nipping at your bottom lip, your boyfriend presses one wet kiss after the other against your mouth before his tongue slides inside. The kiss is sloppy and fevered, and your whines are consumed by Satoru when his fingers are poking and curling inside you with passion.

You don’t think you can keep up with him if this continues.

Gasping, you pull away from an all too eager Satoru, who chases your lips only to be met with your cheek when you turn away from him.

Pouting, the white-haired male searches your face for an explanation. “Why?” he whines, and a brief flash of disappointment strikes his features.

“It’s too much,” you murmur. At this, you feel Satoru’s fingers slow down inside your receptive pussy, but there is the subtle wiggle maybe once or twice to let you know he’s still there. “If you keep going like that I’ll—” You fling a lame hand in the air, hoping the unspoken gesture would speak for itself.

Seemingly catching your drift, a boyish and devilish grin is tacked onto his lips. “Want me to put it inside, then?” He bucks his hips up against your core, not caring if you’d make a mess of his lap. “I want you to feel all of me before that happens. Will you let me, sweetheart?”

There’s some sort of strangled scream that’s caught in your throat the moment the precious pet name drips off his tongue.

You nod dumbly, to which Satoru laughs sweetly in response.

Lifting you off him, he settles you down onto the black leather seat beside you, not before hiking the bottom half of your dress up to your hips, exposing you completely to him. He presses your back down into the cushion and rests his knee between your legs.

Peeling off the black blazer from his shoulders, Gojo lets the article of clothing drop to the floor before his hands unbuckle his ridiculously expensive belt.

He’s taking his sweet ass time and he knows it because there’s an amused glint that swirls in his eyes the more he looks down at you.

“Hurry. Up,” you bite, unsure if you can withstand any more of his teasings.

“You’re impatient as ever,” he jabs, tone laced with artificial annoyance. Finally undoing his zipper, Satoru frees himself from the confines of his slacks and boxers before his hand finds the back of your knee, pushing it down toward your chest to get you ready for him.

Right before the crown of his head can slip past the entrance of your slit, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking down the hallway catches your attention.

Shit, shit, shit!

You make moves to sit up and at least get yourself together, in case the oblivious stranger miraculously chooses your room out of all the others to walk into for God knows what.

However, Gojo has a different agenda.

The corners of his lips quirk up as the sounds of what you predict to be two people, approach closer and closer down the hallway and toward your door. Satoru pins you back down and offers you a few words of encouragement along the lines of how good of a job you’re doing, before the thick head of his cock slides into you.

You both moan at the intoxicating sensation. However the sound of his runs deeper, like a pained grunt. It was as if he were a man possessed.

Fucking himself sweetly inside your tight, greedy hole, you can’t stop thinking of the fact that with each step you hear, the closer you are to toeing the line of you and Satoru being walked in on.

God, what would even do in such a situation? Keep going? Stop altogether?

“Fuuuck,” Satoru breathes, the vulgar somewhat audible sounds of your bodies grinding and bucking together had you thinking with other body parts rather than your head.

Yeah, no shot were you stopping anytime soon.

“I should’ve known he was taken, Airi!” You hear a voice exclaim from down the hall. “I mean, look at him!”

Yeah, look at him.

A furious pink blush crawls up Satoru’s neck and hues the tips of his ears as his hips drive in and out of you at such a gruelling, slow pace. His mouth is slightly parted open and the harsh sound of his laboured breathing can be heard echoing off the room’s wall with each thrust he sends inside your pussy.

He looks positively debauched right now.

His tie (if you could even call it that now) barely can hold itself together, and a few buttons of his linen white shirt are now loose— revealing the milky expanse of his chest. He can’t seem to control his facial expressions either because one moment pale, white brows are furiously pinched together as he obscenely stretches your insides, and the next moment pleasure is etched onto those angelic features of his.

A second voice chips in, who you assume to be the woman’s friend. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

You can hear the sulk in the woman’s voice when she mutters, “I guess…”

You’re half relieved when you hear their footsteps walk past your door entirely, unsuspecting of the pure filth that was going on behind it.

But deep down in you, tucked somewhere far away is the feeling of excitement, knowing that you and Satoru could’ve been sniffed out at any second had you been a wee bit careless and more loud

With the coast clear, you cry out as Satoru sinks his throbbing hard length deeper inside you. His cock expertly works you open, leaving you twisting and writhing in pleasure as you start to near orgasm.

“Feels good, right?”

“So good,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him impossibly closer to you.

“Don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop, Satoru,” you beg him weakly, you feel like you’re about to explode. It’s too hot. It feels too good and a bundle of nerves in your core is ready to snap.

With one hand secured on your leg, supporting how it rests around his slender yet muscular waist, Satoru’s other hand comes up to palm and kneads at your clothed breast.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he groans, kissing you through your panting breaths. “You take me so well, just hold on…”

Giving into the pleasure, Gojo’s hips now snap faster into you, his big hands gripping and squeezing your ass possessively, pinning your hips to the couch.

Rocking harder and faster now, Satoru’s whimpers reach a whole new octave as he’s forced to pull out of you when his balls start to pulse threateningly, alerting him that he’s nearing his release.

Shuddering, Satoru strokes mindlessly and you gasp when something warm and gooey dribbles down your lower belly and toward your pubic bone.

“Agh! I—” He’s still pumping and there are small beads of cum weeping out the slit of his tip when’s rubbed all that he’s had left to give out. It drools off his dick and drips onto your lips. “I couldn’t help it…” he responds, knowing that he had nothing nearby to wipe you off with.

At least he had the sense not to come on your dress.

Content with his performance, Satoru gives your butt one last cheeky pinch before tucking himself back into his pants. You close your legs. “We should do this more often.”

Shimmying your dress back to its proper state, you turn to him with a questioning glance. “What— What do you mean?” you ask.

You’re hyper-aware of his cum that’s beginning its slow descent down your leg. You need to take of that and fast.

Gojo points a tired finger between you and him, and then circling it around the room, he adds to this by saying, “Getting it on in public? I like it, it heightens the ‘experience’.”

You push him away from your body and mutter for him to shut up as you prop yourself off your back and into a proper sitting position.

Throwing an arm across his face with his forearm shielding his eyes, Gojo laughs a little. “So, are we heading back in?” he asks you. “They must’ve cut the cake by now…”

You have the most insufferable boyfriend known to man. After this whole ordeal, he was still thinking about that fucking cake.

“I can’t stand you, Satoru.”

thank you for reading :)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #sahkuna!#divider by cafekitsune

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pseudowho · 7 months ago

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Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

9K notes · View notes

salem-witch-slut · 2 months ago

Text

Prostitution (18+)

Sevika x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.

You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?

It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.

And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.

“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”

You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?

Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?

“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?

“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.

Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.

The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.

Sevika.

You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.

“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”

Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.

“Scared of me?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”

“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”

You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.

She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”

“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”

“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”

Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.

“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”

Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.

“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.

Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.

Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.

With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”

Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.

“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.

What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.

“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”

“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”

“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”

“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”

“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”

“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”

There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.

Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.

“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.

“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”

“Daddy, please—”

That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.

You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.

Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.

“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”

Very stupidly, you nodded.

“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.

“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”

And that is exactly what Sevika did.

#lgbt #lgbtq #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane #arcane league of legends #sevika x reader #dom!sevika #sub!reader #brothel #lesbian character #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sin archives #sevika smut #sevika x reader smut #arcane smut

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s0dium · 7 months ago

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Needy

Pervert!Yuuta x Reader

Synopsis: Yuuta has avoided the touch of women for years due to having a homicidal jealous curse attached to him. Hell, he has even avoided touching himself. But something happens that makes him break

Warning: Male masturbation, pillow humping, edging, mentions of breeding, pining

Pt.2

Having a homicidal jealous curse attached to you 24/7 that threatens to murder any woman that comes close to you, changes a man.

In Yuuta's case that meant that sex was out of the question. In fact, everything involving the slightest bit of physical intimacy was out of the question. Handshake? Yuuta would rather not risk it. Hugging? Sure if you wanted to get your head chopped off. Even when Yuuta joined Jujutsu High and became able to control Rika better, his ways of avoiding women had already been so ingrained into him, that any kind of intimacy was just foreign to him.

This didn't mean the Yuuta didn't think about it. He even indulged in the small things, like replaying the sex scene in a movie or eying the women in Todo's magazines he would bring on occasion. But that wasn't enough to quell the thrumming in his head or the whisper in the back of his mind craving more. Yuuta truly thought he could ignore it all though, that is, until he met you.

At first, it was easy for him to treat you as nothing more than a friend, a classmate. He could ignore how peculiarly beautiful and kind you were. He could brush off how your witty remarks during tough missions always made him laugh, and how the light, airy giggles that escaped your mouth when Yuuta did something unintentionally funny made butterflies swarm in his stomach. Then summer rolled around, and you started wearing more revealing clothes—short skirts and tights instead of long pants, which were apparently "easier to train in" you told him.

And it was only when you innocently bent over to pick something up one afternoon, when Yuuta accidentally caught a glimpse of your white underwear that dug into the fat of your plump butt, that the dam finally broke. When you turned around to bashfully apologize for accidentally flashing him, Yuuta was already gone. Unbeknownst to you, he had fled to his dorm room, struggling to hide his painfully hard dick in his pants.

Yuuta barely makes it to his bed before he is pulling down his black uniform pants and wrapping a shaky hand around his thick cock. He's not an idiot, he knows how to jack off, but there is something different right now. When in the past the few times he touched himself was to quickly get rid of arousal, now Yuuta finds himself yearning for something more.

He slowly drags his hand down his shaft and the satisfaction is immediate: just one stroke sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through his entire body. The pleasure is mind-numbing, and just a taste of it has him yearning for more.

“Oh fuh-“ Yuuta's voice comes out breathless. He screws his eyes shut and darts a tongue across his lips to wet them. Almost immediately his mind wonders back to you, how delicious your ass looked, how beautiful you are, how beautiful you would be with your lips wrapped around his dick. How would your breasts feel in his palm? What would your face look like if he tweaked and sucked on your nipples? God, what would your pussy feel like.

Pap pap. Yuuta was starting to create a semi fast rhythm, white precum collecting in the spaces of his fingers as he furiously glided his tight grip up and down his dick. He doesn't just want to think about you; he wants to obsess over you. He doesn't just want to feel pleasure; he wants to drown in it. No, he wants to drown in you.

He's practically panting right now imaging himself inside you. If he felt good right now, how good would the real thing be? Oh he bet the squeeze around his dick would be delicious, he can practically hear you whining his name. Yuuta's legs trembled as his hand gilded over his overstimulated red tip and down to his heavy balls. Jesus this was good, so good, he needed more, Yuuta needed more friction because god if he couldn't have your pussy right now he at least needed to pretend.

Through heavy pleasure-filled lidded eyes, he glanced to the pillow next time him.

He was becoming greedy.

Fuck it.

Without much of a thought, Yuuta grabbed the pillow, folded it in half, laid on his side, hastily put his dick between the white cloth, and started to thrust. The friction is delicious. It makes his toes curl and desperately thrusts his hips into the soft pillow.

“Mmmm, mmm mhm” he whimpers. Your name is on the tip of his tongue, but he can barely speak so much as think. There’s a tingly warm feeling building in his stomach, the pleasure is overtaking him. What would you think if you could see him like this? Would you call him a pervert or maybe would you help him? Oh, what a dream that would be, your soft hands wrapped around him, oh he bet that you could make him feel better than this pillow ever could.

“Ah-Ah Y/n please….” The thought of you is consuming him, you don’t know it but you are giving him the best pleasure he has ever experienced in his life. Yuutas thrusts are becoming frantic, desperate, he could taste his release on the tip of his tongue. His black hair is starting to stick to his forehead from the sweat and he realized he should have taken off his white uniform coat because it was getting so hot. He was so close, so close to cumming, he hates how this pillow isnt you, isn't your pussy, after this, he promises to himself that he won't ignore you or your beauty anymore, he’ll obsess over you, kiss the ground you walk on, he’ll take care of you so good and -and oh, oh my god, he wants to breed you, fill you with cum-

“Ah-ahhh~”

Yuuta’s hips stutter into the pillow and thick ropes of cum coat the fabric. The pleasure makes his legs and mind go numb and he’s left panting, whimpering from the after shocks.

No, after this Yuuta will never avoid you again.

#yuuta smut #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fanfic

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

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office visitations pairing: wife!reader x ceo!rafe synopsis: wife!reader goes to visit rafe at work for lunch warnings: smut, breeding kink, praise, soft rafe, talk of pregnancy, fluffy ending MDNI - wc: 2k IT'S MY BIRTHDAY which means this is the last day of my birthday celebration! i had so much fun writing these fics and i hope you enjoyed them as well!

everyone on kildare island wondered how rafe cameron of all men had managed to land you; sure, he was rich and good looking, but in figure 8, that was nothing. but somehow he had, and only after six months of being your boyfriend, he had asked you to marry him; no one knew that he had been looking at rings after your very first date.

you were basically his opposite; the sweet, girl-next-door pogue who no one ever had anything bad to say about, while he was known to lash out at whoever was in the wrong place in the wrong time, but after meeting you, he was obsessed.

rafe was sitting in his office, just having finished up a board meeting, those always stressing him out, paperwork piling on his desk, his cup of coffee having gone cold already.

there was a soft knock on rafe's door, and he rubbed his forehead, letting out a small scoff; he had told his secretary to not let absolutely anyone to come bother him. he looked up at the door, letting out a cold and detached, "come in." knowing that his secretary would be looking for a new job.

but as soon as he saw the familiar pair of eyes playfully peek into his office, it was like all the tension slowly rolled off his shoulders. "hi." you said with a smile that was so bright and sunny rafe was sure it could've melted down an icecap. "can i come in?"

rafe cleared his throat, standing up from his chair, "yeah, of course." the man smiled, running a hand through his mussed-up blonde hair as you stepped into his office. you were wearing a long, flowy sundress, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of something, "what's this?" your husband asked amusedly, his head nodding toward the bag.

"i brought you some coffee and croissants." you said, placing the things on his desk and turning to him, "i knew you're always stressed after board meetings. i would be too, if i had to sit around with a bunch of old guys for an hour straight listening to their issues with you or whatever you do." you chuckled, straightening the collar of his button-up.

"you know just what i need." he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, tilting his head down so he could nuzzle it into your neck, breathing in the floral scent of your perfume while you let out a small chuckle, your eyes closing as you held him, stroking his back.

he pulled back, looking down at your dress with a small grin, "did you wear this for me?" he asked, feeling the fabric inbetween his fingers, "it looks great."

"thank you. my husband got it for me." you said playfully, giving him your left hand. rafe took hold of it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before looking at your engagement ring.

"he has great taste. in women, in clothing, and in jewelry."

you laugh softly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, until rafe took your chin inbetween his pointer finger and his thumb, forcing you to look up at him, the man admiring the way your eyes twinkled, moving his hands to rest on your waist again. "you look so gorgeous."

"and you look very handsome." you said, tugging him down into a kiss, your lips on his immediately causing rafe's head to buzz. rafe's hands slowly slid down to your ass, grabbing at the flesh through your summer dress, pulling you closer while one of your hands was on his chest, and one of your hands was on the back of his neck, short blond hair meeting your soft palms.

you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, keeping your forehead and nose pressed to his, your breaths mingling together while your eyes were closed.

"i missed you..."

"you saw me this morning." rafe mumbled, one of his hands traveling to your cheek, cupping it in his hand while his thumb stroked your soft cheek.

"does that mean i can't miss you?" your brows raised with a chuckle, the hand that had been resting on his chest was now tugging his button-up out of the trousers they were tucked in, rafe letting out a small groan when he felt your warm hand slowly trail up the line of his abs, "you know, i realized something…" you practically purred into his ear.

"yeah? what'd you realize, sweetie?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, pressing small kisses on your warm skin, causing shivers to run down your spine, goosebumps starting to form all over your body.

"i'm ovulating." you whispered with a grin, before pulling back to see his reaction. rafe lifted his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a small grin, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of your ass.

"mmhm, 's that the case?" he asked, he shamelessly looking down at your tits, rafe's adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, your fingers starting to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more of his tanned chest, shivers running down his spine when he felt your manicured nails on the skin that you were slowly baring. "i guess we should take advantage of that, then."

you let out a small squeal when your husband lifted you into his arms without any difficulty, carrying you to the other side of his desk. rafe sat down on his chair, positioning you so that you were straddling him, his calming cerulean eyes gazing up into yours.

your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers gently playing with the short tendrils of hair there as you gaze down at him, the hint of a smile playing at your lips. rafe brought his hand closer to your face, his fingers curling under your chin, bringing your face to meet his, the sides of your noses pressed against one another, breaths mingling together before his lips brushed against yours.

and soon, rafe's shirt hung unbuttoned on his broad shoulders, your panties discarded on his desk, your body still mostly covered by your dress, his slacks and boxers at his ankles. the thumb of his left hand brushed against your hardened nipple over the fabric of your dress, a small gasp escaping your lips as your soaked entrance hovered over the tip of his cock, practically aching to sink itself down on him.

"you ready?" rafe whispered under you, pressing a featherlight kiss on your clothed nipple, and somehow even that was enough to make you dizzy; you couldn't speak, simply nodding, his hands slowly crawling up from the sides of your thighs up your dress until they were on your hips, rafe's touch so hot you thought he might leave burn marks. slowly, he started bringing your hips lower, a long drawn-out whimper leaving your lips when you finally felt rafe stretch you out; you'd been together for a long time but every time his cock entered you it felt like the first time.

even though you were the one straddling him, rafe was the one doing all the work. slowly, he lifted you up, before bringing you back down, your head thrown back, lost in all the bliss you were feeling, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, pressing soft kisses on your pulse point as you let out small, soft laughs when you felt his stubble on your skin.

although his lips moved away from your neck, rafe continued moving you on top of him by your hips, briefly bringing one of his hands to cup your cheek, making you look down at him, your eyes hazy and glossed over from the pleasure he was giving you.

"you look so gorgeous like this..." rafe whispered, letting out a grunt as he felt you deliberately clench yourself around him, the corners of your mouth quirking up into an adorable, almost shy smile, your cheeks feeling warmer due to his sweet words.

he moved his hand back to your hips, continuing to guide you up and down on his cock, slightly picking up his pace, whimpers leaving your lips whenever he bottomed out in you, hitting that one spot like it was nothing, when for you, it felt like everything.

"so damn gorgeous..." he mumbled against your skin, and as one of rafe's hands traveled down to your pussy, his thumb starting to draw languid circles on your clit, you started moving your hips just slightly faster, every part of you screaming that you needed more of him, needed to feel every part of him.

"please..." you whined, the tone of your voice making something in rafe's chest ache while also making the heat in his abdomen nearly double.

as his thumb picked up its pace, your head felt so beautifully blank; all you could focus on were the sensations running through your body, the fire he'd lit inside of you, and the orgasm you were already starting to feel approaching.

"please, i'm so close..." you whined, your words getting muddled with your moans.

your eyes were closed, unable to see the way your husband was admiring you, looking up at you with pupils blown so wide his blue eyes might as well have turned into the shape of a heart, and he continued bucking his hips up into you, both of you chasing your orgasms, the sound of squelching and moaning filling his office.

suddenly, he felt your walls spasming around his cock, your orgasm washing over you as you held on tight to his shoulders, your body shuddering with pleasure, moans leaving your lips without you even realizing it was happening.

rafe watched as you came undone, continuing to move inside of you even though your walls felt snug around him, the man starting to feel a familiar tightening in his abdomen.

"'m so close..." rafe mumbled, not even sure if you could hear him through the bubble of bliss you seemed to be encased in. "gonna come in you... gonna put a baby in you... you're gonna look so gorgeous with my baby in you..."

when you let out a soft whimper, trying to move yourself on his cock even though you were still riding out his orgasm, rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck, loud whines leaving your lips when he fucked into you at a faster pace, rafe almost losing himself in you and the way you felt around him, knowing he'd never get enough of you, never get enough of having you like this.

it didn't take long until he let out a loud groan, and you felt ropes of his cum filling you, moving your hips slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of you as possible, the closeness feeling almost intoxicating.

neither one of you spoke for a while, and the only noise that could be heard in his office were the pants that slowly turned into regular breathing, and finally when it had settled, you pressed your forehead against rafe's, taking a deep breath.

you felt rafe's hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there, and it was like he was reading your thoughts; sometimes the way he knew you intimidated you, just because the thought of ever losing that scared the hell out of you.

"it's gonna happen." he said comfortingly, opening his eyes to look into yours, and you pulled your forehead away from his to do the same. you brought your hand to your abdomen, looking down at it while letting out a small sniffle, your tone laced with insecurity, "you think so?"

rafe pressed his hand over yours, and you wondered how someone could know exactly everything you thought and needed, his large, ringed hand somehow managing to soothe every single thought running through your mind.

"i know so, and i'm never wrong, am i?" he grinned smugly, making you roll your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

#🎂 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut #obx #obx season 4 #obx 4

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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BLESS HALLOWEEN - r.c (+18)

pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au) warnings: no plot; smut

inspired by this audio (+18)

between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, you’re half asleep most days.

the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party.

sure, you’re running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that she’s been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesn’t see half her skin every night anyway).

you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.

you're not trying too hard, but you’re giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, “i might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."

you’re rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows it’s you.

the only downside is that you’re in his territory.

it could be anywhere, but it’s happening at his frat.

your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like he’s king of the idiots.

he’s hot, you’ll give him that, guy’s all charm until it’s time to work; then he’s as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.

and now you’re here, half hoping to avoid his face entirely—his smirk that screams "’m getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think he’s doing you a favor.

as if seeing him once a week in class isn’t enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that he’d recognize you through the lace, but just in case.

against all odds, you’re having a good time. the drinks are good—something sugary—and you find yourself laughing, loosening up.

mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.

“ohh, sorry,” he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorry—i didn’t mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.

you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. “hmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."

he puts a hand up in mock innocence. “nah, i swear, completely unintentional,”

you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. it’s honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but you’re in the mood to get laid tonight.

"nice costume,” you don’t bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, “scary.”

he doesn’t catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, “what?” he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. “yeah, sorry—the music’s way too loud.”

rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i said, your costume’s scary.”

he nods, shaking his head like he’s relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isn’t hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. “oh, thanks. yeah, uh, you look…” his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. “you look pretty, uh, scary too.”

you raise a brow, "you think so?"

he nods again, “yeah, ’m terrified of hot women, so…”

the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, it’s harder to know what he’s saying when you can’t read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. “hmm?”

the guy practically jolts, “nothing, nothing—it’s, uh…” he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. “it’s a cool mask.”

you smile, amused. “thanks, ghostface. should i be, y’know, scared of you?”

“i don’t know, that depends. should i be scared of you?”

"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."

the guy’s mask tilts, there’s smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? so—so you’re into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?”

you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."

there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. “oh, okay, yeah, yeah—so what is it? do you like being scared, or?”

there’s something about a guy like him—tall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. you’ve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, who’d tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound.

the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isn’t exactly subtle either—it’s like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, it’s more fun that way.

you let out a giggle that’s only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."

“holy shit, that’s fucked up.”

you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, that’s a nice body.

you can’t help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, “what’s wrong with liking it rough?”

he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know you’re getting to him. “there’s something a little wrong with you.”

yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truth—that your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that he’s got you feeling hornier than you’ve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing.

“you think so?” you faux-pout, giving him a look that’s all dark lashes and bad intentions.

he swallows, stumbling over his words. “y-yeah, i mean, there’s some things you need to… work on.”

you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. “would you like to help me?”

he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, “what does that mean?”

with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver.

“you find me upstairs,” you murmur, voice dripping with promise, “and ’m all yours. okay?”

instead of waiting for him to process it, you’re already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you don’t try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you don’t second guess yourself once, you know he’s coming.

by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, you’re halfway up the stairs.

at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if he’s still watching. the look on his face is priceless—like he’s not sure if he’s about to follow a dream or walk into his worst nightmare. perfect, you think.

you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.

you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. he’ll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way he’ll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into.

why make it easy for him?

rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words “find me upstairs, and i’m all yours” looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew he’d be following—fuck, it’s enough to make him hard just thinking about it.

he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but there’s no hiding the way his breathing’s quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.

you’re playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesn’t care. he’s going to go after you anyway.

pushing through the crowd, he’s half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where you’d brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, he’s with girls all the time, sure, but this—this is different.

he always been a sucker for a good challenge and you’d practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if he’d follow.

at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting.

rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. he’s like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house he’s always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so there’s no way he’s backing out now.

he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case you’re hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.

third time’s the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe.

it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like he’d run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible.

his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.

did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he can’t help but wonder if he’s been set up, if you’re somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.

rafe scans the room’s edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the corner—something. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.

“you wanna play hide and seek?” he calls out, hoping he’s not making a full out of himself, “is that it?” he’s taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, “you like this?”

a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. you’re playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.

he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. he’s caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up.

his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough.

“you want me to scare you or somethin’?” he provokes you, praying it’s enough to lure you out, “you think it’s smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. you’re all alone with me.”

“who says you’re that dangerous?”

the second the words leave your mouth, rafe’s resolve slips.

it’s maddening, the way you’re hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldn’t have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting.

you’re keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if he’s got a shot or if you’re just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expression—wants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.

“you don’t even know my name,” he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, “does that make it more fun for you? that you don’t know anything about me?”

his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if you’re something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, “not here, huh?” no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, “where are you? c’mon come out, i’ll go easy on you.”

he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed.

“be a good girl and come out.”

rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pauses—listening.

the room’s quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes.

“wait—wait,” his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where you’re hiding. “i can hear you, can hear you breathing.”

he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though he’s relishing the way you’re fighting to stay silent, to keep control.

“what’s the matter? you sound a little…” he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. “...shaken up. are you scared?”

your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.

“i know exactly where you are.” with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window.

his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open.

“caught you.”

moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, you’re pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body.

he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way you’re biting your lip.

you tilt your chin up, “maybe i just like trouble.”

rafe’s grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he can’t hide, while he’s memorizing the way you’re looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.

“you’re in trouble, alrigh’,” he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, “don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.

“maybe that’s what i want,” you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.

he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing he’d been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. he’s already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.

“you want me?” you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.

jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?

“yeah,” he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, “i want you.” his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.

you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, “’m already so wet for you.”

a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. “yeah?” he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, “lets find out.”

the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. he’s bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.

your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something.

he doesn’t think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, “all this for me?”

you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch.

he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right,

“you’re so wet, ah, yeah—you’re gonna scream for me?”

his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound you’re trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.

“c’me here,” his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,” you like this shit?”

“you’re gonna fuck me with the mask on?” you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way he’s making you feel, “kinky.”

he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.

“just like you wanted,” he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. “go on, let me hear it—ride my hand.”

he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind.

“fuckkkkk, do that again,” you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.

rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, “like this?” your skin is sticky with sweat—some saliva too—his. he’s never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, “ooh look at you— a fuckin mess.” he taunts.

“don’t be an asshole,” you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, “you gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.”

he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, he’s peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.

“you want more?” you’re so caught up in the feeling that you don’t notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, “answer me”

“another finger,” you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.

rafe doesn’t even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussy’s making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him that’s fully aware is his dick.

he’s not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. “another?”

he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff “good girl” as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.

“think you can handle more?” rafe prods, “you’re so tight, don’t think you can take me.”

the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.

“i could take t-two of you,” you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.

“the only thing you’re taking is this fucking costume off,” he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. he’s already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, “look at you. gotta get my hands on you.”

rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.

“look at these tits, fuck” he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, “this’ what you wanted?”

you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple, “i wanted your cock not your finger—"

his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, “watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

the way you’re creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell.

you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, “or what?”

he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, “fuck,” he mutters, his tone conveying that he’s just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.

“hmmm, can’t hear you ghostface.”

rafe’s too entranced to put you in your place, you’ve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.

he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.

“open your mouth.” you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, “suck my fingers, go on.”

it’s hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. you’d never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm.

“good girl, yeahhhh, that’s it,” he grunts when you prod his skin harder, “you like diggin’ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? ‘course you do,” he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, “course you fucking do.”

with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafe’s fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasn’t for his stupid mask—

“take this thing off—" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.

you let out a huff, glancing down at what’s left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, “you’re paying for those.”

“whatever you want.”

you’re already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. it’s only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.

he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you can’t see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?

the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, “happy?”

looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. he’s so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone.

you don’t know how much longer you can let him tease you.

“so happy,” you nod, not tearing your attention from him.

“yeah?” he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way you’re eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, “you’re gonna let a stranger fuck you?”

rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.“i can always find someone el—"

you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk,” he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, “this pussy, oh—so good.”

your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace.

he’s so strong.

“this good enough for ya?” he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, “hmm? you like my voice, right here?”

“you’re gonna make me cum,” you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, “oh my god.”

it’s the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.

“such a fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” he growls, “letting a stranger fuck you open—holy shit, holy shit,” he hisses, almost as if he’s in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear. “shit, you’re squeezing—fuck.”

“you’re so b-big,” you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.

“yeah? good enough for you, huh?” his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, “takin’ it so good baby.”

by now you’re seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, “harder.”

“harder?” he’s fucking into you at such a pace you feel like he’s gonna split you in half, “don’t think you can take it.”

“please.”

it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else.

he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.

“fucking take it then.” rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes.

you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while you’re still standing.

“no one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,” your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, “lemme hear those pretty noises, c’mon, scream f’me.”

you’ve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, “w-where the fuck have you b-been?”

he chuckles, though it comes out strained, “right here,” he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, “hold your leg up f’me.”

for once in your life, you do as you’re told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes.

“you look so pretty like this,” you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, “could fuck you for hours.”

the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cérvix, “not stopping you.”

“yeah? that’s how good is it?” he laughs, “can’t believe stranger cock does it for you.”

you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldn’t stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.

your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. it’s too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, he’s quite literally fucking you dumb.

“nothin’ to say now, huh?”

the better it feels, the farther gone you’re in your mind, “s-shut the fuck up.”

if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while he’s still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him.

somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing who’s behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. you’re bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussy’s still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.

“cum inside,” your head’s starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,“please.”

rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, “what?”

“inside,” you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, “want to feel you cum inside.”

he lets out a groan at the way you say it, “are you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.” he can’t help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, “you’re gonna cum around me? go on,” he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.

you nod, slipping out a high-pitched ‘mhm’, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.

rafe feels like he’s lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you.

a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, “don’t stop.”

“n-never stopping, c’mon,” you swear you see stars while he’s slipping out curses and praises that you’re not even sure make sense. “holy shit, yeahh, fuck.”

he applies a little more pressure to your clit and that’s all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you.

your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape he’s ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he can’t help but be turned on by them.

“oh! fuck, fucking—” you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.

rafe feels like a fucking creep, he can’t take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, “that’sss itt, so good, so fuckin’ perfect.”

he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

he’s chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. you’re still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, “fuckin’ take it.”

his hips don’t let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.

five minutes later, you’re both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isn’t filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then there’s an unspoken agreement that maybe, it’s time to see who’s behind the masks.

you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each other’s faces.

you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.

“you gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, “what the fuck? rafe?”

he’s completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost—everything you’re hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than he’d ever admit, even to himself.

the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way you’re crossing your arms and glaring at him—it’s so perfectly you. he’s watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you weren’t looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of her attitude that only made him want you more.

but he’d never thought he’d get a moment like this.

bless halloween.

“are you even listening to me?” you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. “hello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.”

more than a mistake. you can’t believe you just fucked the reason why you didn’t want to come to the party in the very first place.

and the worst part is that you’d do it again.

“i…i just…wow,” he breathes, “it’s really you.” he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw “can’t believe it.”

you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. “are you serious right now?

“can i eat you out?”

you blink, realizing you’ve been staring, “what?”

he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, “can i eat you out?”

you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, “right now?”

rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.

“why not?”

well, fucking damnit.

dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties

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