#college! kendall

[from-the-clouds]

loved the way you wrote subby kendall, i think it was really accurate for his character also your writing is amazing!!!! keep feeding the kendall girlies plssssss

ofc!! thanks so much for the nice message, its a lot of fun! <3

[from-the-clouds]

the college ken ones are killing me! you’re too good dude!!

tytysm! im honestly surprised that college! ken has gotten so much positive feedback but i really appreciate it as those are super fun to write! :)

[from-the-clouds]

A little college!Ken request here! What about him practicing some type of speech or something like that and anytime he does good you reward him ;)

oh hey this was a no-brainer!!!! pls enjoy.

pic courtesy of @televisionchronicles (my laptop is shit and can't upload gifs to my posts for some reason right now???)

Summary: An education. Kendall invites you over to his place 'to study'. A loose continuation of my college!Kendall fic you can read here.

Warnings: Smut (minors dni). Oral sex (male receiving). Kendall being a little subby (if you squint).

WC: 2.3k.

Kendall was quite a sight as you pulled away from him once more; his lips swollen, cheeks flushed, looking down at you. Through a haggard breath, you spoke. “Okay, that’s enough.”

He pouted, and you smiled slightly, bringing your forehead to his. “You said we were going to study together, and so far you’ve been very…..distracting…”

“I could argue it’s you doing the distracting,” he whispered, the feeling of his breath ghosting along your neck made you shiver. “Did you really think-” he began slowly kissing down the column of your throat, sloppily, “That we would actually study?” His fingers began fumbling with the buttons on your shirt.

Giggling, squirming away from him, his hands abandoned their work and instead found the curve of your waist, where he began to tickle you mercilessly. Shrieking in horror, you tried to wretch away from him but he was far too strong, and you were in a compromising position, laughing too hard to find the strength to stop him. “Kendall-” you managed through hysterics. He was unrelenting.

Even when you finally wriggled out from under his grip, he found your feet, when you kicked him away he found your neck again, until you writhed off the couch and fell on the floor with a thud. “Okay, okay! I surrender.”

He peered at you from over the cushions of the couch, then leaned forward, reaching out to trace his pointer finger down the bridge of your nose and swipe his thumb along your bottom lip. Your stomach fluttered, unable to identify the emotion currently swimming in his dark eyes. “Come back here,” he tugged on your sleeve, helping you right yourself to sit on the couch alongside him once more.

It had been two months since you met him, and you weren’t really sure what this was. In some ways - you didn’t really care, because you knew better than to get attached. But it was probably a little too late for that, because it had crossed the threshold of strictly casual fucking some time ago. Plus, you weren’t really one to walk all the way across campus in the cold and snow just for some dick. Well, maybe you would, if it was his dick, but unfortunately for the both of you, there was also definitely something else there.

For one thing, you didn’t know any fuck buddies who sometimes didn’t fuck, and instead would ask you over just to cuddle in bed and watch movies. Or fuck buddies who practically forced you to sleep over, because they didn’t ‘want you walking home alone this late.’ You had almost expected that you’d come over just to study with him. instead, you’d been accosted the second you entered his bedroom – which you still didn’t mind.

“You’re actually gonna make me study, aren’t you?” he groaned.

“Don’t you have, like, a huge presentation tomorrow for your marketing class?”

“Hmmmmm….maybe,” Kendall shrugged, nonchalantly.

“You said it was worth, like, half your grade.”

“Uh-huh,” his hand grazed up your thigh, sliding between them, grasping greedily. “Maybe….I have other…more important research to do,” he leaned in again, and you let him kiss you. He was persuasive, hard to resist, and he knew what he was doing and he was so-

You dragged your mouth away from his again. “Ken, won’t your parents be super pissed if you fail?”

Something very ugly flashed across his visage, but you didn’t miss it. There was quite a sadness to him, easy to notice even in the little time you’d spent together. It remained hidden, mostly, but it seeped out on occasion. Particularly, whenever he took phone calls from his father, in the way that his shoulders slumped, his body stiffened. He’d leave the room, close the door, whisper in hushed tones. When he returned to you, you felt it in the drag of his fingertips along your spine, he’d place one of your hands on his heart, clasping his own over it. It wasn’t your place to ask, so you didn’t.

“You’re a really good influence,” he said, leaning in. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?” His tone was near patronizing, but that wasn’t what made you shiver while his raspy voice was in your ear. No, he only called you that in bed, and he knew exactly what it did to you.

“Why don’t you practice your presentation for me?” you asked. “And if you do a good job….maybe you’ll be rewarded.”

Kendall didn’t need to be persuaded, giving you a devilish grin and standing up to rummage through his backpack for his laptop and a stack of index cards with his handwriting scribbled all over.

As he began, using a slideshow on his laptop and reading off his notes, you immediately zoned out. It wasn’t that he was bad at presenting, or that it was boring - even though it was, some analysis of IBM’s business model, an overview of their company - it was that he’d already gotten you riled up, and now you were having a hard time paying attention. Instead, you were focused on his hands, thumbing through index cards, his eyes flickering over at you every few moments, the way his lips moved.

Slinking off of the couch, you began to crawl towards him on your hands and knees.

“Sales skyrocketed after their release of- what are you doing?” Kendall looked at you from over the edge of his notes.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t see the graph very well, I needed a closer look,” you feigned interest at the slide displayed on his computer. “Please, keep going.”

Are you fucking with me? He didn’t even need to ask, you could see the question written all over his face. You absolutely were. But Kendall shook his head and continued, mentioning something about supercomputers and typewriters.

Slowly, you knelt in front of him, tilting your head back and running your palms up the fabric of his jeans. “Despite their many competitors-” Kendall stopped again, lowering his index cards and tilting his head, while you gazed back at him, sitting on your heels, doe-eyed and innocent. “What?”

“You know that part of being a good presenter means being able to avoid distractions,” you stated, matter-of-factly, squeezing his thighs and “And you’re not doing a very good job of that, are you?”

“Uh-huh,” he answered, skeptically.

“So, don’t mind me.”

Kendall sighed, then continued. “Despite their many competitors, their adaptability in the ever-changing tech industry-” he gasped when your hand grazed over him through his jeans. He was half-hard already.

You sat back on your heels, removing your hands from him. His eyes were dark now, clouded with lust, but neither of you spoke. “Are you going to keep going?” he asked.

“Are you?” you answered, pulling yourself up by his belt loops, pressing your chin to his lower belly to look up at him, into those pretty, half-lidded eyes. Kendall’s free hand lifted to graze his thumb over your lower lip, poking it into your mouth. You sucked on his digit, obediently, and he groaned, head falling backwards.

“This is fucking cruel,” he whined, hips pressing forward on their own accord.

“No, I want to help you,” your voice was low.

Kendall seemed to get it then, and sucked a sharp inhale through his teeth. All this week he’d been desperate, needy for you, and even though it was excruciating, he would do just about anything to have your hands on him again. Just to show him how willing you were, you swiftly unbuttoned his jeans and began to pull them down his legs, excruciatingly slow.

“I fucking hate you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you murmured, palming him where he strained against his boxers.

“Fine,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Their adaptability in the ever-changing tech industry has secured them a major share of the market both in the United States, and abroad.”

Now, you had his boxers down around his ankles along with his pants, leaving him bare before you. Your mouth pressed hungrily along the insides of his thighs, to the base of where his cock hung, heavy and swollen and waiting for you.

And Kendall was being good, for now, gritting his teeth as he continued through his presentation, something about a dip in IBM’s sales during the 1980s, and early 1990s.

“After a series of reoganizations-fuck,” Your hand had finally wrapped around him, pumping him once before stopping. Clearing his throat, Kendall swallowed hard.

“They are still one of the most prominent computer manufacturers of all-” you took him in your mouth, as far as you could go, all at once. “Fuck, baby, so good-” You began to pull away, but Kendall stuttered as he continued. “I mean, uh, most- uh, the most prominent computer manufacturers of all time.”

You might have laughed, if it weren’t the fact you had his cock down your throat. Kendall kept talking, going into some analysis of their recent business endeavors, but you weren’t really listening to that anymore. Instead, you hollowed your cheeks and took him even deeper, working up a steady rhythm.

There was some sort of power in it all that you found more arousing than you’d been expecting. He was so desperate for it he would do anything, which meant he had to keep reading off of cards about possibly the most unsexy topic you’d ever heard. What he really wanted to do was tangle both hands in your hair and fuck your face, but you wouldn’t allow it. Instead, you relished every tiny gasp, whimper, tremble in his voice as he fought to finish the presentation.

His cock twitched in your mouth when you swirled your tongue around the tip, slowly, steadily working the rest of him with one of your hands, the opposite squeezing and cupping his balls. There was a slight press forward of his hips, you could tell it wasn’t intentional, he was struggling to hold back, to control himself. But he kept going.

“In conclu-” Kendall began, and you took him so deep you gagged, throat tightening. “Fuck, I can’t- you’ve got me so close,” you were surprised at his tone of voice, no longer deep and confident, now breathless and whiny, choked out around a moan. “Please, let me come.”

“You’re almost done Ken,” you didn’t stop working him with your hand. “Be a good boy for me, won’t you?”

His hazel irises had nearly disappeared, eclipsed by the dark of his blown-out pupils, eyes half closed. “Okay, okay.”

Truth be told, you’d gotten yourself so worked up just listening to how he responded to you, you wanted this just as badly as he did. At least you were both on the same page.

The last few sentences tumbled from his lips, strung together within stuttered breaths, barely intelligible. And you learned absolutely nothing from the presentation, except maybe a few more ways in which he liked being pleasured. When he finished speaking, you didn’t stop.

Instead, the cards he’d been reading off of fluttered delicately around you, landing like snowflakes around your knees, at his feet. Kendall let out a pained sound of relief, his hands met the back of your head and weaved into your hair, guiding your mouth purposefully up and down the length of him.

“Just like that, please,” he panted, a pathetic mess, and your own arousal that had begun to build some time ago clouded your vision, pooled between your thighs. At this point, you were praying he’d be able to take care of you later, because you’d never thought giving someone a blowjob would have you so worked up. But you didn’t dare think to stop, as you were trying to savor the pitiful noises Kendall was making.

When he finally came, his hoarse cries were intermingled with the sound of your name. His cock throbbed, finding his release down your throat, which worked thrice to swallow him down. It was him who pulled you away, and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked up at him, where his chest heaved and his eyes glimmered.

“That was…fuck that was so good,” he said, pulling you to your feet. Your lips met briefly as he cupped your chin with his hand. “You’re just fucking unbelievable, you know that?”

You giggled, letting him kiss you again, his arm wrapping sturdily around your waist and maneuvering you towards the bed, where you surrendered to him, letting him lay you down against the pillows and lazily drag his lips along your neck.

“Did you bring anything to study?” he asked. In his touch there was no urgency, no destination, but you relished in the feeling of his body pressed against yours, his fingertips grazing over various parts of you absentmindedly. You were on fire.

“Uh, no,” you said softly, and he paused to look at you.

“What?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “I kind of figured…if I came over, we wouldn’t actually study, so I already did all my homework.”

“Right.” Kendall rolled his eyes, incredulous. “Uh-huh. You little brat.””

“No!” you held up your arms to defend yourself, to no avail, as he began to tickle you again, much more aggressively than the first time. Ragged breaths sucked between your teeth as you laughed uncontrollably. “Please! Please.”

Kendall managed to pin your hands above his head, leaving you very exposed beneath him. “Fine. But you’re going to pay for this, you understand?”

Using the only appendages available, you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Of course I understand.”

Kendall smirked, eyes clouding over with lust again as he leaned in to kiss you. “Good.”

[from-the-clouds]

bestie your writing is amaziing!! when can we expect the next college kendall fic?

in like t-minus 1 hour i think!!! i have to proofread

[from-the-clouds]

i literallyyy cannot get enough of ur college! kendall content its so good

i'm so glad! and honestly surprised it would get this much feedback considering it was based on ONE photo i saw hahaha. but don't worry, there is more on the way!!

[from-the-clouds]

all is on my side - kendall roy x reader

| Masterlist | 

Summary: After a breakup, your friend drags you to a stoplight party off-campus, where you meet a notorious senior. College! Kendall AU. Song inspo. 

Words: 3k.

Warnings: Contains SMUT (minors dni). Alcohol use. 

A/N: Yeah this pic above just made me think things so I had to let it out, and ya’ll have been asking for more Kendall. I know I’ve projected the idea that Kendall loves dirty talk onto him, but I think it’s canon basically. Oh, and no 22 year old man actually knows what they’re doing in bed, generally, so don’t let me set unrealistic expectations. Please enjoy, let me know what u think!! 

Ugh, where the fuck is she?

Music blasted over speakers, bass vibrating through the floor and slinking up through your shoes, adding just another level of annoyance to your already overwhelmed brain. Barbara, your friend, had disappeared into a sea of people bobbing in place to the music, leaving you alone and semi-drunk. 

There was something terrifying about college parties, you’d realized. They were nothing like the ones you saw in movies, with models dancing around a big swimming pool and bumping to music, shot in Hollywood hills mansions no student could ever dream of affording. They were more like this - hot and confusing, the best alcohol option usually being some potion of shitty-K and Kool-Aid mix served out of a plastic tub and poured into cups that now littered the floor. And the floor in question was already covered in spilled drinks, sweat, and other unidentified fluids. Half the time, they took place in homes that were arguably not suitable for human inhabitants. 

Looking for your friend was already made difficult by the three main colors worn by each of the partygoers - red, yellow, and green. A fucking stoplight party. 

“So you wear red if you’re taken, yellow if it’s complicated, and green if you’re single,” Barbara had said, sitting on her desk chair, painting her toenails. 

Most of the people here were wearing green - you being one of them, borrowed from Barbara of course. No one wants to be questioned about their status all night if they wear yellow, and the handful of people wearing red came as no surprise either. If someone was already taken – why would they willingly subject themselves to this shitshow? Wouldn’t they rather be inside, cuddling with their significant other? That was what you should’ve been doing, but the untimely event of being cheated on by your hometown boyfriend had interfered with those plans. 

Regardless, you were here, against your will. But it was sophomore year, and you had to enjoy this time while you could. It was easy to rationalize it that way. Maybe, you’d thank yourself for this experience someday. 

A splash of something cold, wet, and sticky hit your face, leaking down the shirt you wore, dribbling off your chin and down your back. 

Maybe not. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” the voice barely registered, some stranger apologizing for something that they surely didn’t mean, but surely didn’t understand the severity of their actions. The damage was already done. Abandoning the search for your friend, you started on a different search all together. 

Bathrooms. The one downstairs was a no –  a line of people standing outside of the door, swaying back and forth, desperate to pee or puke – or maybe both. 

The staircase to upstairs had been lazily caution taped off, and by some miracle it seemed everyone at the party was respecting the boundary so far.

Fuck that. Ducking under the tape, hopefully out of sight from anyone, you snuck upstairs to the off-limits area. 

Jiggling a few locked doors - you had to give it to those people, they were smart for that – you finally had luck at the back end of the hallway, stepping into a surprisingly clean and cozy space. A plaid comforter covered a queen-sized bed, pretty bay windows looked out over the front yard. Of course the walls were littered in predictable posters - Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, The Beastie Boys. Closing the door behind you, you sighed in relief at the reprieve. The tension that was caused by the chaos downstairs started to release from the pinch between your shoulder blades, your eyebrows, and you stepped into the ensuite bathroom.

Barbara’s shirt was ruined. There was no doubt about that. A large, red-tinged stain now accented the clothing item, it was almost impressive that the drink had somehow spilled on both the front and back. The real problem, however, was that there was no way your bank account could front the cost to replace it. Tears were burning the back of your eyes as you took in the damage. The shirt was ruined, along with your evening, which had been rocky since its inception. Not only that, but now you looked like a fucking idiot loser. Even though you weren’t really behind Barbara’s agenda of finding you a hookup to begin with, this definitely sealed the deal. 

“Uh, fucking excuse me?” you were so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you hadn’t heard the door open, and you stumbled out from the bathroom to find a stranger looking pissed. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” 

“I’m so sorry, I uh, was looking for a bathroom and-”

“The bathroom’s downstairs, you’re not supposed to be up here.”

The boy – well, he was definitely older than you, a senior if you had to guess, so maybe a man – stood in the doorway, blocking your exit. 

“The door was unlocked-” you pointed out, stammering for some kind of excuse but mostly just hoping he’d step aside so you could retreat. 

“What are you fucking, up here going through my shit? You think this is fucking cute or something?”

“No, I’m sorry I just-” the crack in your voice betrayed you a little. This was just your luck.  Tonight, you’d already lost your friend, and everyone here seemed to be having a good time except you. Not to mention you were moderately drunk, heartbroken - Oh god, you stupid bitch, are you actually going to cry right now? But the scold didn’t seem to help, in fact, the best move would’ve been to stop talking, which was the exact opposite of what you did. 

”I didn’t mean to intrude, I- I have this big stain on my shirt because someone spilled their drink on me - but this isn’t my shirt, so I needed to figure out if I could get rid of the stain so I needed a bathroom and I came in here. But it turns out the shirt is ruined, and I borrowed it from the friend I’m here with and I don’t have the money to pay her back for it. And now, now…I look like a fucking idiot,” your voice wavered, and tears tracked down your face, likely ruining the intricate eye makeup that Barbara had done on you. 

But maybe crying wasn’t the worst idea. Because the stranger lowered his arms. His stern expression softened, slightly, and you noticed then how handsome he was – mussed dark hair, big, brown puppy-dog eyes and full lips, stubble lining his jaw. 

“Okay don’t-” Looking somewhere between uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and unequipped to deal with the level of emotion just presented to him, he seemed to back down. “It’s fine I just don’t want people going through my shit. This is my room.” He stepped forward, closing the door behind him, blocking out a significant amount of the music and noise from the party below. 

Desperately swiping under your eyes, you sniffed. “No, of course not. I’m really sorry, I am.”

“You didn’t touch anything did you?”

You shook your head. “No, no…”

He put his hands on his hips, looking around as if he didn’t believe you. When he seemed satisfied with the investigation, he looked your way again, and sighed. 

“Do you want to uh, borrow a shirt?”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, you’ll catch a cold if you walk home in that.”

“Are you sure? I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.” It was a surprising offer, but certainly not unwelcome. And…he was right, so you weren’t going to politely refuse. 

“Just take something old, don’t worry about it.” He opened his dresser drawer and rooted through the contents, producing a worn sweatshirt with the Harvard logo emblazoned on the front. “Here.”

“Thank you so much….uh….”

“Kendall,” he said, voice softer. “Kendall Roy.”

That last name sounded familiar, for some reason you felt like you’d seen it often in the headlines of the newspapers your father read during breakfast. But who knew? It didn’t sound like an uncommon last name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kendall,” you offered him your name in return, which he repeated once before smiling softly.

“And what year are you, then?” 

“Sophomore,” you answered. 

“Yeah, makes sense,” he raised his brows. 

You scoffed, a little offended, but you couldn’t help but feel your face get warm. “Oh you can tell? Great,” sarcasm bled into your words. He crossed his arms, looking down at you and chuckling, a warm, rich sound that had your stomach twisting. Under his gaze, you felt small…but for some reason, you kind of liked it. “I’m guessing you’re older, if you live here.”

“I’m a senior.”

“Right, makes sense,” you looked around. “This is a nice house…and room.”

“Uh-huh, right, well that means a lot coming from the stranger who broke in,” he said, and you would’ve thought he was being serious if it weren’t for the twinkle in his eye. Maybe you were drunk but it seemed like he was….flirting?

“Hey, I thought we were past that already,” you answered, trying not to giggle. 

Chuckling, he nodded. “We are. And uh, yeah, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay I….probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“Uh-huh. Right,” he tilted his head, studying you. 

You met his eyes, unable to stop the dumb smile from creeping onto your face, it was like something was lifting the corners of your mouth up, against your own accord. It was unclear what sudden shift in energy had occured for you to be suddenly swooning, but you definitely weren’t mad at it. Bashfully, you were able to force your eyes to the ground, just as his gaze met your lips. “I should, uh….change into this shirt.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, gesturing towards the bathroom, stepping backwards. He had been closer than you thought. You found your knees to be a bit more wobbly than usual. 

When you emerged a few minutes later, stained shirt balled under your arm, Kendall was sipping on a beer he must have produced from the mini fridge by his bed, looking outside at the parade of drunk young adults beginning to shuffle home for the night.

“I’m uh, gonna head out if that’s okay. Thanks again for the sweatshirt,” you said, and he turned to you, offering a flick of his chin. Just as you reached the door though, he called out.

“Before you go, can I uh, get your number?” he asked. “I might decide I want that sweatshirt back.”

You didn’t hesitate, offering a cheeky grin. “Yeah, of course,” 

++++++++++++++++++++

Several weeks later, you found yourself back in the same bedroom. 

Further research had revealed that Kendall Roy was indeed related to the family whose name was in the papers, the heir apparent to take over a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate. But you’d kept the information to yourself, even after he reached out several times through flirty texts and drunken phone calls. 

It was a little game, the two of you started to play. Cheeky, but mostly innocent, even though you knew from the get-go exactly what he wanted. Still, you had to play coy, just a little, but still give him enough to stay intrigued. You even opened up to him, just a little, about your ex who broke your heart, and in return he offered all his favorite secret study spots on campus. It didn’t matter if that was a fair trade or not, there was just something about him that was stuck in your head all the time. 

“Listen, I can’t stop thinking about that sweatshirt you stole….I really need you to bring it back to me,” you had heard the smile on his face even over the phone. 

This time, he had you pinned beneath him on his bed, tongue sweeping through your mouth. He tasted like beer and cigarettes, which might have been disgusting on someone else but on him, was like heaven. It was late, Friday night, and truthfully, you were kind of honored it was you he’d been thinking of. Raking your nails through his hair, you let him claim you, until he pulled away. 

“You wanna know something?” he asked. 

“What?”

“I didn’t give a fuck about the sweatshirt.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically, and he laughed before returning his lips to yours. His hands were everywhere, everywhere but somehow still not everywhere enough. One of them slipped behind your knee, pulling it up to hook over his hip, earning a moan from you, fire licking down your body and immediately burning into your core. In just a few short weeks he’d managed to obscure the memory of your ex, who you’d spent weeks crying over, and you were hoping tonight he could erase it completely. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working. 

Barbara had warned you about Kendall, but you knew the risks. Sure, he was a partier, but lacked the usual disrespect for human beings – particularly women – that men his age often had. And you didn’t need any kind of commitment - you just wanted him. 

Kendall wasn’t shy about how in agreement he was, either. Hands slipped under your shirt, pushed your bra out of the way, and then were grabbing, squeezing, cupping. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out, reaching to feel him half-hard in his pants already. 

His mouth moved to your neck, grunting against your skin as his hips rutted against you. There was nothing tender or slow about this, it was desperate and animalistic, but for some reason that only turned you on even more. This sort of attraction, so primal, so necessary, was all new. No one had ever made you feel this before. 

“You like that, pretty girl?” his mouth was by your ear, and he began to unbutton your jeans, pulling them away so he could rub your aching cunt through your panties. Of course, they were matching your bra - you pretty much knew what you wanted before coming over. A wave of relief settled over you as deft fingers found your clit, even through the thin undergarment.

“Yes,” you whined. “I do.”

“You’re not as good as people think, are you?” he asked, pushing aside your panties, knuckles swiping through your folds. “I bet you like feeling a little bad sometimes, though?” 

“Yes,” you panted out, but what Kendall said wasn’t entirely true. You had to specify. “For you, yes.”

He chuckled, pads of his fingertips teasing you open. “You’re so wet for me already.”

“I c-can’t help it,” you stuttered, voice shaking as he pulled down your jeans all the way.

“You want me to help you?” he asked. 

You nodded.

“Then sit on my face and let everyone hear what a little slut you are for me.”

There was no time to answer, even though it was an overwhelming yes. Somehow you were reoriented so you were on your hands and knees, panties around your ankles, kneeling on the pillows of his bed. Kendall’s head settled beneath you, between your parted thighs. This was vulnerable, you were all bare and exposed for him, had never let anyone have you like this before.

“You don’t have to- oh…god” 

His mouth was on you, and all concerns lay dead on your tongue. A staggered breath rippled through your lungs as you attempted to breathe through his ministrations, a lazy drag around your clit, down through your folds and then back and forth until your hips bucked upwards, overstimulated and unable to process the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you. It was only a matter of time before your legs would give out, and you would crush him. But Kendall didn’t allow the distance, large hands pulling you back down, kneading into the soft flesh of your thighs, forcing you to stay put. 

“Hands on the headboard, baby,” he rasped, during one of the rare moments his mouth separated from you. Obeying him, you found it was helpful actually, providing you with some stability, and you relaxed slightly, arching into his touch, whining and whimpering.

It didn’t take long for you to come, teeth sinking into the headboard to stifle the noises that accompanied it, one of them being a sharp cry of his name. The last few waves of pleasure had yet to subside before he was out from under you, mouth dragging back against yours as you both frantically tugged the remaining clothing off your bodies. 

“Want you to ride my cock,” he grunted. Once again, you were happy to oblige. Quickly, he was digging in his nightstand for a condom and rolled it on. Hips aligned with his, you lowered down on to him slowly, head falling backwards as you took him all the way until he bottomed out inside of you. He was so big, you could feel him so deep, so snug inside you. 

There were few words you had to describe the feeling, besides the ones you managed after rolling your hips forward onto him. “So good.”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl,” Kendall leaned forward, mouth latching onto one of your nipples, and bucked up into you so you were forced to take him deeper. When you answered with a mewl, he spoke again. “Oh you like that, don’t you?”

There was a chance your lip might actually bleed by how hard you were biting it, nodding in response. 

“I bet he never fucked you like this, did he?” His hand rose to twist into your hair at the base of your scalp, pulling down and exposing your neck to him even more. You shook your head no in what little movement he allowed. 

You were getting close again, already, the head of his cock kept hitting that spot over and over as you ground down against him and he met you halfway. It was fucking perfect, your heart was racing, flushed all over, cunt clenching around the length of him. 

He was close, too, jawline all harsh angles, a bruising grip on your ass as his hands guided you onto him again and again. There was no point in attempting to hide the sounds you both were making, he had been right when he said everyone would hear. Good thing you didn’t give a fuck. 

His own release triggered yours, when you felt him all warm, pulsing inside you. You gasped and pitched forward, head falling in the crook of his neck. 

After, you laid next to him, blissed out and bleary-eyed, and one of his fingers absentmindedly drew shapes onto your back. You realized, then, that you might be in trouble.