#dragging your fingers through his strands

[gospelicas]

cw stepcest

"i don't think you know just what you do to me."

stepdad!kento's hands on your body are searing hot and desperate,, to say the least. he has you on the dining table, your half eaten dinner pushed aside to make room for you to sit back and accommodate your stepfathers large frame between your thighs. he's so hard it hurts, but you only have so long before your mother finishes up in the shower and comes down to join the both of you for desert.

little does she know, her sweethearted kento is having his fill of desert early. he gropes you with large hands, tweaks at your nipples as he kisses down whatever exposed skin he can find until he's face-to-face with your pretty pussy: his favourite sight. but you're needy and impatient and despite having been licked and worshipped by your stepdad for weeks now he still hasn't stretched you out on his cock.

"you could just fuck me," you whisper, as if your mother could somehow hear you over the running water of her shower upstairs. "im already wet for you..."

he shakes his head, blond hair messing a little as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. you reach down and take his glasses off to avoid any obstacles between your sensitive clit and his eager mouth.

"you know i won't fuck you, sweet thing."

"why-" you gasp as he licks a stripe through your folds up to your clit- "why not? i want it."

"i'm your step-father. it's wrong," he presses a kiss to your clit. "improper," kiss, "an abuse of power."

"you're literally eating me out right now," you whine. "it's wrong anyways. you want it too, i know you do."

"more than anything," he hums against your pussy. "bet you feel as sweet as you taste, but it's not happening. you need to start respecting the ground rules i lay down, so shut up and let me make you cum before your mother comes back down."

you groan, but lean back on your elbows and let your legs drape over his broad shoulders. kento eats you like he hasn't just indulged himself on your mothers cooking; with needy moans pressed against your clit and lots of spit and tongue and enough kisses to tell you this isn't just sex to him. he digs his fingers into your thighs to pull you impossibly closer to his greedy tongue, but you gasp when the cold of his wedding band presses against your heated skin.

of course, he moves to take it off, mostly out of guilt, but you manage to catch his wrist in your hand before he can. you can feel his sharp exhale against your pussy as you shake your head, something filthy playing behind your eyes. "don't take it off."

your stepdad frowns and you slowly guide his hand to your heat. you mould hiring and middle finger out and press the rest against his palm and tease your own entrance with his hand as if he were only a toy. his wedding band glistens with your sweet nectar, and he can't manage to pull his hand away like he should. "you're cruel," he whispers.

"i know," you sigh and lean back, letting go of his wrist and trusting him to know what you want. "stop if you want to. go join mom in the shower, maybe you could get off with your—"

"don't." kento pistons his fingers into you with a pace that makes you dizzy! your head is falling back and he's reattaching his lips to your clit and showing off that added experience that being so much older than you gives. your fingers drag through his hair, messing up the delicate blond strands in a way you almost hope he doesn't remember to fix before facing your mother again.

and before you know it, he's bring you to the edge of your climax and pushing you over into ecstasy with an ease that makes it feel like you're the one who he should be claiming with jewellery instead! you cum hard around his fingers and greedy kento nanami laps up every last drop of your release like a thirsty dog.

he rests his forehead against your knee and closes his pretty eyes tight. he's trying to will his erection down.

"i can fix that," you offer, already knowing he'll shake his head and tell you that this is for your pleasure, not his. though you know if you had the time for a second round that your taste alone could make the man cum in his pants: it's happened before.

but before he can protest and you can push any further, the sound of running water from upstairs halts and you hear the shower door opening and shutting as your mother finishes up. it's an almost comical race to get your clothes back on and your appearances tidied up, but by the time she's dressed and rejoining you both in the dining room, you're sat in soft chatter about... the economy.

that's okay, though! because your mom quickly gives you a new subject to discuss when she tells you she's going to spend the summer abroad on a business exchange! she hates to leave you two alone like this but it's the opportunity of a lifetime.

and you'll be damned if you get a whole summer alone with your stepdad and don't get him to fuck you properly within the first week :)

[pixiexdusts-world]

Blushing confessions

Hwang Jun-ho x shy!reader

Hwang Jun-ho stood in the aisle of the bookstore, arms crossed as he watched her from a few feet away. She was lost in her own world, flipping through the pages of a novel with a soft smile on her face.

She hadn’t noticed him yet—something he found both adorable and amusing. She’d dragged him here, insisting it would “just be a quick stop,” but thirty minutes later, here they were, with her completely absorbed and him thoroughly entertained.

Quietly, he walked up behind her and leaned down slightly. “Find something good?”

She jumped a little, spinning around to face him with wide eyes. “Jun-ho! You scared me!”

He chuckled, hands slipping into his jacket pockets. “Didn’t mean to. You just looked so focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and she looked down at the book in her hands. “I, um, think I might get this one.”

“Only one?” he teased, glancing at the small pile of books she’d already picked out.

“I don’t want to carry too many,” she mumbled, still avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, reaching out to take the books from her. “I’ll carry them. Problem solved.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no! It’s okay! I can—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, already cradling the stack in one arm. “Besides, this way you can grab more if you want.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression caught between gratitude and embarrassment. “You’re too nice to me,” she said softly.

He leaned in just enough to catch her eyes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She laughed quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not. I just… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Jun-ho tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “If carrying a few books for you is all it takes to make you happy, then I think I’m getting off easy.”

Her blush deepened, and she looked down at her feet. “You’re too sweet.”

He reached out, gently tipping her chin up with his finger so she had to meet his gaze. “And you’re too shy for your own good,” he said, his voice soft. “You know I don’t mind, right? I like doing things for you.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she nodded, a small but genuine smile breaking through her shyness. “Thank you, Jun-ho.”

He grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the shelves. “Now go pick out a couple more books before I change my mind.”

Her laughter was soft but bright, and she quickly turned back to the shelves, a new spark of confidence in her step. As he watched her, Jun-ho couldn’t help but think how much he loved these little moments with her—moments that were quiet, simple, and impossibly sweet.

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 12.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #the game of teaching body

author's note: Ok guys, this is it! My hands are shaking as I'm publishing it. Thank you all so, so much, for all the kind comments, for the freakin' art (like what? fanart? of my writing? I'm still gagged over it!), for reblogging, placing messages in my inbox, for everything! Something that was supposed to drag my attention away from the temporary shittiness of my life, has turned into a full-blown passion, as currently I am drafting three new fics and working on all your awesome requests and I wouldn't be doing it without your encouragement. Thank you.

(disclaimer: I have a request for the opposite of the situation happening here, coming soon!)

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You noticed Viktor’s breath coming in short, uneven pants, his face twisted—not with pleasure, but something else entirely. His movements faltered, his grip tightening on your shoulder for balance before he suddenly stilled. His hands dropped to the desk on either side of your hips, fingers digging into the surface as though bracing against some invisible force.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, as though fighting off something within himself. His head hung down, strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead.

Alarmed, you scanned his body, searching for a clue. “Viktor?” you whispered, your voice steady despite the concern that thrummed through you. But he didn’t respond.

With a frustrated groan, Viktor slipped away from you, grabbing a pillow from the bed to shield himself as he limped toward the armchair. Every step was stiff and uneven until he finally collapsed into it, stretching his leg out with a sharp hiss. “Fucking cramp,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his hand rubbing at his thigh.

“Where?” You hopped off the desk immediately, pulling your sweatshirt over your head as you hurried to his side. You knelt beside him, your hands already seeking out the problem. “Let me see.”

His body tensed further, his lips pressing into a hard line as his free hand rose to cover his face. Anger, frustration, and something darker flickered across his expression. Embarrassment, no—shame. He was a man who hated to feel weak, and this moment—vulnerable, raw—clawed at his pride.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, but the pained wince that followed betrayed him.

You softened your voice, making it as non-threatening as possible. “Viktor,” you urged, your fingers hovering just above his thigh. “Show me.”

For a moment, you thought he’d refuse. His jaw worked as though grinding back a retort, but the tension in his leg won out. With a reluctant nod, he guided your hands to the offending muscle. You worked slowly, methodically, your fingers finding the knotted muscle and easing into it with unpractised care. Viktor leaned back, his head tipping against the armchair with a low, shuddering exhale. You glanced up at him occasionally, careful to give him space, but unable to stop the flickers of affection that crossed your face.

When the cramp finally loosened, Viktor’s body sagged with relief. His hand fell from his face, but his brows were still knitted together, his mouth almost invisible, save for a line. He looked... defeated.

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his knee, a wordless gesture of comfort, before reaching for the pillow. You straddled his lap, intent on drawing him back, or rather away from this. But just as your lips hovered above his, Viktor’s hands came up, catching you by the shoulders and halting your movement.

“Wait, I—” Viktor exhaled heavily, his eyes darting anywhere but yours. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, the frustration in his face giving way to disgust. “This is… strongly unattractive.” He offered you a sad, apologetic smile, one that left his eyes empty. It was a weak defence, a brittle mask to cover the discomfort roiling beneath. He didn’t want you to see him like this—not yet, maybe not ever. “I’m… sorry.”

Your lips curled into a soft, teasing smile. “Are you joking? A hot man in need of aid? In my books, that’s strongly attractive.” Your tone was light, your fingers weaving gently through his hair as though trying to coax him back to you. “Any other… affliction I could be of assistance with?”

But Viktor’s smile faded completely. “Please, stop,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost cracked. His body stiffened beneath you, his hand rising to cover his face again. He didn’t push you away, but the gesture was louder than words.

As if on cue, your hand slipped over his, tugging it gently away. “Let me in,” you whispered, your voice a soft, disarming plea. You rubbed your nose against his cheek, your warmth melting into him, your presence grounding him. Viktor’s breath hitched, a shallow inhale slipping through his parted lips. He was never this close to anyone—not like this. His heart was never this close to opening, his fears never this close to crawling into the light.

“How did this happen?” you asked, your fingers trailing behind you to graze the tense muscle of his thigh.

Viktor hesitated; his gaze fixed somewhere on the space between you. His teeth tugged at his lower lip, and when he finally spoke, his voice was distant, almost clinical. “Rotated femur. Just… a bad case.”

He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t have to. Your mind worked quickly, piecing together everything you knew about him, every detail you’d catalogued. The timeline was clear, the reasons obvious, but you made the deliberate choice not to probe further. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his chest, your touch steady and reassuring. “You’re okay,” you said softly, trying to guide him somewhere lighter, somewhere safer.

Viktor’s chest fluttered beneath your hand, his breaths uneven and shallow, each one giving away his hesitation. His eyes flicked to yours briefly before darting away again, the vulnerability in that fleeting glance leaving him feeling exposed. He gripped the armrest of the chair tightly, his knuckles whitening, as though he were bracing himself for something he couldn’t name. The silence between you stretched like a pained muscle.

For a long moment, he stayed like that—closed off, his expression unreadable save for the tightening of his jaw and the way his lips pressed into a thin line. But then, slowly, his grip on the armrest slackened, his shoulders dropping as though releasing a burden. He didn’t speak, but something shifted in his gaze as he looked at you again. It was tentative, unsure, but there was a crack in the armour—a fragile permission.

You saw it immediately, the subtle easing of his posture, the way his eyes softened despite the war still raging inside him. You stayed still, letting the moment settle, your touch light and unintrusive. Your thumb traced soothing circles over his chest, your movements careful, watching for even the smallest sign of discomfort. When none came, your fingers drifted to his thigh again, the tension there still palpable under your gentle ministrations.

“You can tell me to stop,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his for any flicker of doubt. But instead of resistance, there was something else entirely—a flicker of trust, raw and unpolished, but unmistakable.

“So... how do we not make it upset?” you asked carefully, leaning forward to rest against his chest, your palm cradling his cheek. Your voice was calm, your touch light, but Viktor’s body tensed beneath you again, the rigidity in his frame speaking volumes. The answer, when it came, wasn’t surprising.

“We don’t ask questions about it,” Viktor huffed, his tone carrying a faint edge, though it softened as his hand began to move idly up and down your back. His touch was a distraction, deliberate and almost subconscious, as though trying to steer the moment away from his discomfort. But the heaviness lingered—how had this spiralled from intimacy to a conversation about his leg? The absurdity of it all made him feel drained, a long sigh escaping him.

“But I never asked you,” you murmured quietly, your lips pressing to the curve of his neck. Your words lingered, warm against his skin, as your fingers trailed through his hair. “And I seek to correct my mistake.” You whispered the words like a secret, your tone so tender it nearly disarmed him. Viktor clenched his jaw, the growing ache in his chest conflicting with the faint spark of heat your presence stirred.

“You read me like a book. And here I am, still wondering… what gets you off,” you teased softly, your playful tone a deliberate shift away from the seriousness he so clearly wanted to avoid.

“Definitely not questions about my leg,” Viktor groaned, pulling back slightly, though his lips twitched in reluctant amusement. He let out an exasperated sigh, wiggling just enough to escape the trail of kisses you left along his neck. “Please, let’s sit this one out.”

Even though the warmth of your weight on him stirred something deep in his core, the shame pressed harder, suffocating, and unrelenting. He tried to muster an apologetic smile, but it fell flat, and the tension returned like a phantom haunting his every breath.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, adjusting yourself on his lap, your hands cupping his face with intent. This wasn’t about sex anymore, and Viktor could see it in your eyes. You weren’t looking for fun or distraction. You were asking for something bigger, something he wasn’t sure he could give.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady despite the storm inside. But then, with a small, bitter laugh, he added, “Though I know exactly what’s coming next. You’re going to ask me when I’m comfortable, and we’ll never have fun sex again because you’ll forever burn this moment into your brain as a pity party for the cripple.” His words were dry, calculated, but the flash of frustration in his eyes betrayed him. “Which I am, by the way. But that’s beside the point.”

“Viktor, I don’t care if—”

“You are not allowed to say ‘cripple,’ it’s my word only,” he cut you off, his tone clipped as his eyes fixed on you. Your lips twitched in a half-smile as you rolled your eyes in response, your patience endless.

“I don’t care if you’re an Olympic athlete or a chess world champion,” you continued with exaggerated care, your voice steady, measured. “I want to know what gets you off. No more, no less.”

Your thumb brushed softly against his cheek, a small, grounding gesture that made Viktor’s jaw tighten for just a moment before he let out a slow breath. “And I won’t force you to do or say anything,” you added gently, your words laced with sincerity. “But I’m asking you to reconsider, given that you are in a safe space.”

He studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, searching for something—doubt, insincerity, any crack in your words he could latch onto. But there was none. Just your calm, unwavering presence.

“And this is your request?” he asked finally, raising an eyebrow, though his tone lacked the sharpness it held before.

“This is my request,” you said plainly, your bluntness somehow soothing, disarming. You leaned in to kiss his forehead, a tender gesture that made him close his eyes, his resistance softening like ice melting under the warmth of spring sunlight.

You let him gather his strength. You stayed close, your movements deliberate and slow, as though any sudden action might startle him into retreat. Your hand slid to his chest, resting there lightly, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. You waited, not speaking, letting the weight of your presence fill the space between you.

Viktor’s fingers twitched at his sides, then hesitated before coming to rest lightly against your hips. His grip was tentative, almost unsure, but he didn’t pull you closer or push you away. His silence stretched out, but in it, something shifted—a small crack in the wall he’d built, a mute permission.

You tilted your head, your gaze fixed on his, waiting for a sign—any sign—that his discomfort was easing. It came in the form of his breath, no longer shallow but slow and steady, his shoulders relaxing by degrees. The corners of his mouth twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly, as though he was trying to let you in but didn’t quite know how.

“I’m here,” you whispered softly, your words more a reassurance than a prompt. “Whatever you’re ready to share—or not—it doesn’t change anything.”

Viktor’s eyes lifted to yours, and for a moment, the battle within him seemed to subside. He didn’t speak, but the look he gave you said enough. A faint vulnerability glimmered there, a quiet acceptance of your presence, even if he wasn’t ready to bare everything yet.

He sighed, the weight of it carrying the burden of his struggle outside of his body. Damn you.

“Let’s see,” he trailed, his hands moving to rest on your thighs, his touch light but grounding. “I thoroughly enjoyed our last time,” he admitted, his words tentative at first, but gaining confidence as he felt your weight settle more comfortably on him. “And it was… comfortable,” he added thoughtfully, as though revealing a truth he hadn’t quite allowed himself to accept before.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth, your hand brushing softly over his shoulder. You didn’t push, didn’t rush him, giving him the space to guide the conversation.

“Standing, eh, is not my forte, as you saw,” he continued, his hand trailing off to the side as his gaze followed, lingering somewhere beyond you. His voice was steady, but you could hear the faintest hint of self-deprecation beneath it.

“It’s not my favourite either,” you mused, your fingers threading gently through his hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. You could feel the subtle shift in his body as he relaxed beneath your touch.

“Don’t lie, you liked it. I saw you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at your face, though the glint of amusement in his irises betrayed him.

Your laugh was soft, playful. “I liked it because it was with you,” you breathed, your voice carrying a teasing innocence. You leaned in to place a sweet kiss on his lips, feeling his judgmental hand fall back to your thigh.

His grip tightened slightly, and a sly smirk curved his lips. With a sudden, playful jolt of his hips, he snapped you out of your little act, making you gasp in surprise before laughter bubbled out of you again.

“I like when you suck on my thumb,” he said, his voice lower now, softer, yet carrying an unmissable heat. His hand rose, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against your lips. You parted them immediately, your lips warm and soft as you took him in without hesitation. Your eyes fluttered shut at the quiet praise that followed, his voice like a thread of warmth weaving through you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his tone laced with a mix of encouragement and wonder. His thumb moved, brushing against your tongue, the sensation grounding him in the present moment.

You opened your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, his expression softened, the guarded edge that usually shielded him nowhere to be seen. Vulnerability still lingered, but now it was met with acceptance, even a flicker of confidence.

“You’re good at this,” you teased, your words a whisper as you gently pulled his hand away to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Being open.”

His laugh was quiet, a breath more than a sound, but it was genuine. “Don’t get used to it,” he warned, though the slight smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

You simply leaned in, resting your forehead against his, your weight steady but light enough to remind him that you would follow his lead. “One step at a time,” you murmured, your hand resting over his heart.

In your touch, in your gaze, Viktor found a quiet reassurance that spoke louder than any words. And for the first time, the fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen, slipping away into the quiet intimacy you had built together.

“I like to see you,” Viktor murmured, his voice soft yet steady, as his hand cupped your face lovingly. “Doesn’t matter if you’re on top or I am,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Though I had to admit, this setup you had us in here was… appealing.” His lips curved into a faint smirk before he pulled you closer, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was as tender as it was deliberate.

“Oh, and I will never say no to a good head,” he whispered against your mouth, the teasing edge in his tone mirrored by the smirk tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, your eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “A good head? Are you trying to tell me something?” you quipped, shifting your hips against his, eliciting a groan that vibrated through him.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied innocently, though the way his hands tightened on your hips betrayed his composure. He rolled his hips beneath you, his movements fluid, deliberate, and taunting. “All I’m saying is that practice makes perfect, and I am… willing to be your study buddy,” he finished, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a smile.

You found yourself slightly breathless at his audacity, but you refused to falter. Instead, you leaned in closer, your teeth grazing his lower lip in playful retaliation. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you teased, your voice low, though it carried a spark of mischief that only made his grin widen.

The tension between you shifted, turning softer, as Viktor let out a quiet, contented sigh. His body, once taut with uncertainty, now felt pliant beneath you. A gentle heat spread through his veins, chasing away the lingering shadows of shame and fear. For a moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing his next words carefully.

“I... want to be wanted,” he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his honesty. “I want you to want me—not to see me as—”

He faltered, his brows knitting together as his words trailed off. His hand moved to rest over yours where it lay on his chest, grounding himself in your touch. Viktor’s gaze searched yours, wary yet hopeful, as though testing the waters of how much more he could bare to you.

You tilted your head, your fingers lacing gently with his as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t,” you said softly, your tone steady and resolute. “I see you as you, as exactly who you are. Consider me… bewitched.”

A wave of affection swept through him, soothing the raw edges of his vulnerability. You didn’t push, didn’t demand anything more from him than what he was willing to give, and it was in that quiet understanding that Viktor felt something shift.

It wasn’t just trust—it was something deeper, something that made the walls he had so carefully built around himself tremble and, piece by piece, begin to fall.

“And Viktor, I want you… so, so much,” your voice barely a whisper against his mouth as you gave him a longing kiss, your hands cradling his face as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

Your words ignited a spark deep within him, fanning the embers of confidence that had smouldered under layers of doubt. Viktor’s hesitation began to wane, replaced by something more primal and eager. His lips moved against yours with renewed hunger, his body responding to you in ways he could no longer suppress.

He hummed, the sound low and rumbling, as his hands found your waist and pulled you closer, his movements deliberate yet restrained, like a man rediscovering his footing. “Hmm, tell me how much do you want me,” he muttered hoarsely against your lips, his breath fanning over your face.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass as he guided your movements, your tongues tangling in a slow rhythm. You rolled your hips lazily on his cock, feeling him grow hard beneath you, his groan vibrating through you as you murmured, “So, so much, it hurts. Fuck me, Viktor,” against his lips.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound rich with both amusement and arousal. “Ask me nicely,” he teased, his voice steady now, laced with a familiar confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

Your gaze locked with his, a flicker of playful frustration dancing in your eyes as you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. His hands slid under your sweatshirt, cupping your breasts with deliberate tenderness, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made you gasp softly.

A tremor ran through you as you exhaled, your fingers threading through his hair. You hesitated, your pride momentarily warring with your desire before you finally gave in. You voice was quiet but filled with emotion as you whispered, “Please, make love to me, Viktor.”

The words melted over him, and he felt last bits of doubts leaving him. His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his lips warm and unhurried against yous. This wasn’t just about reclaiming your passion—it was about finding something sacred in the spaces between your bodies, something that belonged only to you and Viktor.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand travelled between your bodies, and you could feel his fingers playing idly at your entrance. He couldn’t fight a smile blooming on his lips when he found out how much indeed you wanted him—your core hot and fluttering on his tender skin as he lazily guided the head of his cock inside.

It was easy to claim you. It was easy to be with you now. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and you both let out soft groans of relief, filling each other's gaps. For a moment, neither of you moved, letting gentle twitches of your connection guide the growing feeling of pleasure bubbling between you.

Viktor started with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips; it was almost painful, and he felt himself wanting more and less at the same time. With a quiet gesture, he started rocking your hips on top of his, letting you find her own flow. When he felt your movements grow more balanced, he handed the control over to you and savoured the sight of you swaying on top of him. You lazy, sensual rhythm carried both of you in tandem, as your bodies grew closer and closer together. He got himself busy with kissing your neck and kneading the flesh of your ass.

As your rhythm grew more frantic, the strain of holding back visible in your furrowed brow, he pulled you closer by the back of your neck and muttered into your ear, “Touch yourself for me.”

It was both a command and a plea, and you placed your timid hand where your bodies met. You felt momentarily exposed as Viktor’s eyes studied your face, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You held his gaze and seeing there was nothing else but admiration in it, you put herself on display for him. You let him take in your face, the movement of your wrist, all the quiet sounds you made as your hips stuttered and you came on his cock with a loud “Fuck!” muffled by his neck.

He watched you, fascinated, his own mouth agape, as he felt your walls clenching around him. His own pressure was rising, when he pulled you closer, caging your arms with his and let his thrusts take over. He pushed his hips up with a gentle force, your body already melting around him, as he traced a slick trail up your neck with his tongue.

Seeing his searching eyes and the strain in his forehead, you leaned in and encouraged him with a barely audible, “Come for me.” Viktor’s breath grew hot, and you swallowed the moan he gave you when you whispered a quiet praise against his skin. “You fuck me so well.”

“Fuck, I’m—” he squeezed you flush against him, as the final pants and groans fell from his mouth and he spilled himself inside you, his face pressed against you neck. Feeling him shift beneath her, you hugged him tighter and soothed him with a soft, “Stay."

You remained straddled on his lap, your bodies cooling together in the quiet aftermath. Your fingertips traced lazy, featherlight patterns over his shoulders, grounding you both in the stillness. Viktor's hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your skin, as though to memorise the moment. Only your breaths, soft and calm spilled into the silence of Viktor’s room.

***

“Of course. Breaking the law, as usual,” Viktor smirked, catching you smoking a cigarette outside the window in between a study session with Sue. “How many times do you think I should let this go?”

“Three,” you deadpanned. “I will have one more that way.” You were so fucking tired. And Sue was completely useless, already snoring soundly in your room.

“How is it going?” he asked, plucking the cigarette from your fingers and taking a drag. You shuffled on your feet with a long sigh and shook your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to learn all of this in such a short time and then remember it for the rest of my life.”

“You are not. You will forget it briefly, and then it will come back,” he said, passing the cigarette back to you.

“The visions of the future,” you murmured, tracing your open hand toward the window, as if it held the vision itself. “The only future I see is the break. Unless I fail. Then, possibly Starbucks.”

Viktor scoffed. So dramatic. “Such a baby,” he muttered, tracing his thumb over the swell of your lips. It was tender, and he wanted to tell you he was proud of you.

The last time had stirred something very scary within him. His guard was down, ruined. It was never coming back up—it was so ruined. So, he had to be sure. But now, of course, wasn’t the time. You were elbows deep in genetics, chemistry, and other subjects that Viktor had no interest in.

“I think I should switch departments,” you sighed, the sound too heavy for a joke, even though it was, and you smiled weakly. Viktor only blinked slowly, taking the cigarette back.

“Eh, you are doing great. I was much worse during your year.” He hugged you with one arm, the other lifting the cigarette to your lips. You raised your brows in question, though no answer came.

“My mother says changes are good.” This time you put more effort into the joke. “Though she also tells me to wear red knickers to exams and tests, so… I don’t know how trusted she can be.”

“Oh, they work. How do you think I am where I am?” He chuckled, warming your shoulders with his hands. The rumble of his laughter carried itself through you, down, down to your toes. “Not all changes are possible, though.”

“Viktor, if you’ve changed, anything can.” Your voice was wistful, as if you didn’t know what you were saying.

He hadn’t changed.

“I haven’t changed, though, have I?” A hysterical thought tore through him. “Look at us, back here, at the beginning. You, deep in thoughts, and me—” Deep in love with you.

“Viktor, what… what are you doing?” You blinked, unsure. He was stalling. His shoulder left yours as he leaned against the windowsill, just like he did then. You put the cigarette out and flicked it outside. “Do you want to talk about something?”

“Not really, I’m just stating a fact.” I want to tell you; I just have to be sure.

“Fact being?” You swallowed it down—the fear that had started crawling up your throat. You smothered it and pushed it back down, bitter on your tongue.

“That some things don’t change.” He made sure to sound unfazed, to make it sound non-threatening, just natural—an obvious truth about him.

“Why are you being so defensive?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

“I just… don’t want you to jump into something you’re not sure of.” You have to be sure. He allowed himself a shrug and a faint eye roll for the effect. He watched you, your body completely still as you watched him back.

“I haven’t jumped anywhere yet,” you said, measuring your words, gathering your composure. A month ago, it would have made you claw his eyes out, but now you knew. Because you felt the same. He loved you, and he feared it, and you felt the same. “I’ve barely dipped my toes.”

“What are you saying?” Were you saying what he thought you were saying? It felt like a challenge, and for once, he didn’t like it. It felt more serious than back at the beginning. He had more to lose now. “What do you want from me, really?” He meant to keep it in his thoughts, but it shot out.

“Change is inevitable. I don’t want games. I want you.” A countdown of statements. Dry and measured, said with no affection, just stating facts, like he was. Was that why it had felt so hollow?

“You can’t just walk into a relationship with the intent to change somebody. I won’t. This won’t,” his voice rose dangerously, echoing through the empty corridor. He pointed to his leg and pushed his cane firmly into the floor, as if to steady himself.

“That’s not what I said. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I’m merely saying that changes happen,” you said firmly, letting your arms drop from their defensive cross on your chest.

He hesitated. You were right, somehow, and he was right as well. “What do you want from me?” Just say it. So I can be sure.

“Do I have to know now?”

It was so different from your fight in the snow. He had guarded himself back up, came prepared. You had to improvise. No, you knew. You knew him already. He’d said he’d give you his princess heart, and he did, and now he was asking if you would take it.

“I have to know now,” a shuddering breath escaped him. I have to know now because I won’t be able to walk away later. I have to know now. I have to know now.

“I… brood. I put my work first because it’s the only thing I had for the longest time. I will become boring. And this will become hard,” he began counting it down and couldn’t see the end. “I am… aware that people grow apart. I accept it. But—”

“Viktor,” you interjected. “Why are we talking about growing apart when we haven’t even started anything properly?”

“Because it’s important. And because… yesterday. What you did yesterday, I don’t think I—” I don’t think I can live without it.

You stared at him, breathing evenly, as if you were forcing the breaths inside you.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst. You really haven’t,” he added, noticing you formulating a scoff. Each word was such a strain. Each and every one tried to crawl back down, deep into his stomach, and stir there with all the bile and cigarette smoke.

“I get so jealous. I get so angry. I get angry because I can’t fuck you the way I want to. My leg hurts, and I remember everything. I never forget anything. I will use everything I can against you if it comes to it. So what do you want from me?”

“All of it.” Blunt, almost painful.

He pleaded weakly with your name on his lips. He was so tired. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.

“I want it all. Now, and later. I will keep it safe.” I will keep your heart safe; I promise. “Viktor, I also remember everything. I get jealous and angry. I will use the things you didn’t want to say against you, probably, and I’ll regret it after. I’ve beaten you up in the snow. What you’re describing is human.” I love all your human things.

All the while, you stood at arm’s length. Viktor came closer, swallowing it all down. The words he had said let themselves out, and he swallowed your words too—they coated his stomach with warmth. He swallowed it all down, awash in it.

He pulled you in, slowly, his touch tentative. “Okay,” his breath fanned over her face. “Okay.” I love you so, so much that it hurts.

“I think… I’m in love with you.”

He thought a current of vomit would take him, but it didn’t. Instead, it was your hands holding his as you stared at him, wearing your sweatshirt with a torn collar and his boxer shorts, barefoot, a blanket loosely wrapped around you.

“I love all of you. I promise,” you whispered, meaning it with all your fluttering heart. And Viktor knew you meant it. He knew by the way your hands cradled his ribs, your body slotted in with his so he could feel the drum of your chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you tightly and allowing himself a relaxed exhale, which felt like the first one he had ever taken, as the game was truly over, and you both had won.

[kashverse]

the first time you found nanami huddled in your shared room, you almost called an ambulance. huddling wasn’t exactly his thing. was he sick? dying? both? your mind raced through scenarios of him stoically hiding a terminal illness because “it’s not proper to trouble others.” but as you cautiously approached, ready to demand answers, you noticed the makeshift fort he’d built from your shared bedding. not just that—he’d constructed a fortress of books, an outright barricade. he looked up from his current read, glasses perched on his nose, and said, “it’s my day off.” oh. that was... anticlimactic. turns out, nanami decompresses by becoming a literature troll.

the first time you found gojo huddled in your shared room, you didn’t panic—you assumed he was trying to weasel his way out of work. which, frankly, was strange, given how much he adored tormenting his students with nonsensical training exercises. but when you walked in, the room was a battlefield. wrappers. so many wrappers. chocolates, gummies, cookies, things you weren’t even sure were technically edible. gojo lay in the middle of it, like some sugary war general, twirling a lollipop stick between his fingers. “self-care, babe,” he said with a grin, crumbs everywhere. you left him to it, but not before muttering about how cleaning up was also self-care.

the first time you found geto huddled in your shared room, your heart sank. geto huddling was a bad sign. you thought he was doing okay, considering everything—therapy sessions, reconnecting with friends, the works. but then you noticed what he was holding. a single strand of hair. his hair. your brain struggled to compute. “it’s broken,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the offending strand. “this means split ends, doesn’t it?” you blinked. his depression wasn’t back; his vanity was. “great. just great,” he sighed dramatically, retreating further into his silk pillow cave. you left him to mourn in peace.

the first time you found toji huddled in your shared room, it was well past his usual working hours. considering he’d only dragged himself home at 4am the previous night, you figured exhaustion had finally caught up to him. toji was not the type to stop moving. ever. “tired?” you asked gently. he looked up, smirking. “nah. retired.” your jaw dropped. retired? as in permanently? the man who treated work like a full-contact sport? but no joke followed. he was serious. you didn’t think you’d ever been happier in your entire life. toji laughed at your dumbfounded expression before pulling you into his ridiculous bear hug. “you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

the first time you found sukuna huddled in your shared room, you froze. mostly because he was snoring. loudly. like a lion on steroids. the man could bring a house down with his sleep volume. you glanced at the peaceful chaos that was your room: one arm hanging off the bed, his face buried into your pillow like it personally offended him, and faint murmurs of incomprehensible sleep-speak. you made a calculated decision and tiptoed out, because waking sukuna from his hibernation seemed like a bad life choice. whatever ancient curse he was dreaming about could wait. better let the man sleep—who knew what destruction he’d bring when he woke up?

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.0 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. a.n — sorry in advance lol DOUBLE UPDATE THOUGH masterlist

ten

friday february 7th

“i think we covered that part in the google doc, right?” you murmured, scrolling through the endless document on your laptop. the screen’s faint glow reflected on your glasses as you squinted at the tiny text.

“is it the budget allocation?” gisele, the student treasurer, asked, glancing up from her own laptop, her fingers still clicking through tabs. “like, everything surrounding the budget? because i did work on that a bit, so i might’ve done it. my laptop’s just being kind of weird right now.” her tone was distracted as she fiddled with a stubborn cursor.

“y/n?” danny, your vice president, called, breaking your focus. you looked up, brow furrowing as you noticed him, gisele, and annie, the secretary, all turning their attention to the glass wall on the left.

you followed their gaze and spotted your friends outside in the hallway. ivy was tapping her watch with exaggerated urgency while devon held her phone up, the screen flashing a clear reminder: you were ten minutes late for lunch.

“uh, okay. let’s wrap up,” you said quickly, your words stumbling over themselves as you closed the document. “if we didn’t cover the allocation, i’ll handle it… whenever. anyway, see you guys next week?” you forced a smile, trying not to let the stress seep through.

danny nodded, already packing his things. “yep, see you.”

“bye!” gisele called cheerfully.

“next week!” annie added with a wave.

you slid your laptop into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you hurried out. “hello!” you sang, pushing the door open with a grin. “sorry, i’m late.”

hazel immediately hooked her arm around yours, her touch warm and grounding. “totally fine, but we’re dealing with an absolute tragedy,” she said dramatically. ivy jogged ahead, spinning around to walk backward, her expression exaggerated.

“devon got a seven on that philosophy paper about perfection,” ivy announced, her tone as dire as if she were reporting a global catastrophe.

your brows shot up in surprise, and you turned to devon, who was covering her face with both hands. “what happened?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “philosophy’s your favorite class.”

devon groaned, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. “i didn’t have time to do it properly. i literally worked on it like, minutes before the deadline.” her grimace was both sheepish and annoyed.

hazel chuckled softly, shaking her head. “guys, a seven isn’t that bad.” her voice was light, trying to soothe devon’s obvious distress.

she wasn’t wrong—it wasn’t bad at all. but for your group, used to skating the upper edge of every grading curve, it felt like a glaring anomaly.

"true," ivy added quickly, as though trying to lessen the blow. "hazel and i got an 8.5." she gave a little shrug.

as the group burst into the common area, you all found an empty spot to settle in. ivy dropped into a chair with exaggerated flair while hazel and devon slid into seats across from you.

"how much did you get?" devon asked suddenly, her voice curious but a little wary.

you shrugged, fishing your phone out of your bag. "i didn’t even know we got the results already," you admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you tapped into your school app. navigating to the grades section, you waited for the page to load, the spinning wheel on your screen adding a small sense of anticipation to the moment.

the room filled with the low hum of chatter around you, but your friends stayed quiet, leaning in slightly as they waited for your result to appear.

it all happens so fast that your brain can’t keep up. you glance up absently, just catching a glimpse of rafe as he passes by. his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating from every inch of him, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. a fresh black eye, dark and swollen, blooms angrily on his face, stark against his skin.

you barely process it. your gaze drops back to your phone, where your grade stares back at you: a perfect 10.

"i got a—" the words die in your throat as you look up again, frowning. your friends glance at you, confused as they pull out their lunches, but you don’t have the words to explain.

you toss your phone onto the table and push to your feet, already rushing out of the common area. "rafe!" you call after him as he disappears into the hallway. your friends’ voices follow you, but you ignore them, your focus fixed entirely on him. you’d explain later.

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn, just grunts over his shoulder, "not now." his voice is harsh, clipped—nothing like the easy, teasing tone he’d used over dinner with his parents a few nights ago.

"yes, now," you insist, quickening your pace until you’re jogging to catch up. you reach for his arm, grabbing it firmly, and he stops, though his whole body hums with resistance. "what’s wrong? what happened to your face?" your eyes scan the bruise, the deep purples and blues spreading in a jagged line across his cheekbone. it looks fresh, the kind of pain you can almost feel just by looking at it.

"nothing happened," he snaps, jerking his arm free and moving again. his tone is so dismissive, so cold, it cuts deeper than you expect.

but you don’t give up. stepping in front of him, you hold out your hands, planting yourself in his path. "rafe, that looks bad. did you ice it?" your voice softens, concern lacing every word as your eyes flick back to the bruise. you know it wasn’t there yesterday. you would’ve noticed.

his jaw tightens, and he lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "god, you never listen, do you?" his voice is raised, though not quite a yell, and the edge in it makes you flinch. the sting of his words sits heavy in your chest, but you bite down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let the tears brimming in your eyes fall.

for a moment, his expression shifts—his eyes soften, guilt flickering there—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. his face hardens, and he tries to move past you again, brushing you aside like you’re not standing right in front of him.

"no," you say firmly, shoving at his chest—not hard enough to move him, but enough to make him stop.

before he can argue, you grab his wrist and yank him toward the nearest classroom. he protests, his voice low and angry, but you don’t let go. the door creaks open as you push it, dragging him inside and letting it close with a soft thud behind you.

the air feels heavier now, quiet but thick with unspoken tension. rafe exhales sharply, his frustration palpable, but he doesn’t pull away. not yet. you steel yourself, determined not to let him shut you out again.

"tell me what happened," you demand, arms crossed tightly as you plant yourself in front of the door, your posture daring him to try and push past you. the determination in your stance feels flimsy against the weight of his indifference, but you hold your ground anyway.

"i walked into a door," he says flatly, perched on the edge of the desk with his feet casually propped on the chair. the sight of him, so nonchalant with that faint bruise blooming on his face, makes irritation prickle at your skin.

"rafe, who did that to you? why are you so angry? just tell me what happened," you plead, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to chip away at the fortress he’s built around himself.

"no." his voice is clipped, cold, like a door slamming shut.

"rafe—"

"i said no." he’s standing now, his movements sharp as he strides toward the door. but you’re still there, still unmoving, still stubbornly waiting for the truth.

"move. right now," he orders, his voice low and firm.

"not until you tell me who did that," you insist, anger curling around your words.

"a door," he repeats, jaw tightening.

"rafe," you snap, your patience fraying.

"i don’t want to fucking talk about it!" he explodes, the sudden intensity of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm breaking.

"don’t yell at me!" you yell back, startled by his outburst, the sharpness in his tone cutting deeper than you expected.

he exhales roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turns away, muttering under his breath. "oh my… fucking—"

"and stop cursing at me," you cut in sharply, arms crossing again as you glare at him.

he lets out a bitter scoff, a smile curling on his lips—one that’s anything but kind. "any more requests?"

"yes," you say, your voice steady as you meet his heated gaze. "tell me what happened."

"no," he growls, stepping closer. "now move, or i’ll move you." the warning in his tone is clear, but so is your refusal to back down.

"stop being like this," you blurt out, your chest tightening as the tension between you grows unbearable.

his eyes narrow, his voice sharp and cutting. "how am i being? huh? how the fuck am i being? exactly like you’ve been all week?"

the accusation leaves you reeling, and you frown, searching his face for the version of him you recognize—the one who wasn’t like this, who didn’t look at you like he was trying to break through you. "what are you talking about? i’ve been nothing but nice to you, and if it’s about the bonfire, i told you i was on my period—"

"yeah, and that’s fucking bullshit!" he shouts, his voice thunderous as he stares you down. "your flo app sent you a notification tuesday. you got your period wednesday."

the words hit like a slap, your eyes widening as your stomach drops. "you checked my phone?"

he shakes his head, scoffing bitterly. "i didn’t check your phone. i saw the notification pop up. and judging by the look on your face, i’m right."

he is right, and you hate that he knows it. you nod slowly, caught, but there’s a defiance in you that refuses to let him win this argument. "fine. i lied. whatever. i just—"

"no, no, not whatever," he snaps, his voice laced with frustration. "what happened that night? you don’t think i notice how weird you’ve been acting around me?"

his eyes burn into yours, hurt flashing behind the anger, and you’re standing so close you can feel the tension radiating off him. you’re paralyzed, unsure how to explain yourself, how to navigate the landmine you’ve stepped on.

"i’m not. i’m not being weird," you try weakly, your voice faltering. "nothing happened that night or any night."

"i heard you," he says, softer this time, but the edge in his tone is unmistakable. "i heard you on the phone sunday."

your mind races, scrambling to piece together what he might’ve overheard. the memory clicks into place—your conversation with hazel.

"and i don’t even need to ask if it was about me, do i?" he continues quietly, the bitterness in his voice replaced by something more vulnerable. "you promised someone you wouldn’t get close to me?"

you exhale, your shoulders slumping under the weight of his words. "rafe—"

"don’t fucking lie to me," he interrupts, his voice sharp, loud and unrelenting.

the heat of the argument builds again, the anger and frustration spilling over in waves. "stop cursing at me!" you scream, your voice cracking under the strain.

"stop pushing me away!" he roars back, his words echoing in the charged air. "why won’t you tell me what the fuck happened, huh? why are you acting so weird? why are you being so distant? and why won’t you just let me all the way in anymore?"

the silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words settling over both of you like a suffocating blanket. he’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and you’re frozen, your mind spinning.

his gaze locks with yours, raw and unguarded, and for the first time, the fight drains out of you. you don’t have an answer—not one that will satisfy him, not one that will make any of this better. you just stare back, feeling the enormity of everything unsaid pressing between you like a wall you can’t climb.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa  let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[peachesvanilla]

The laughter from the sitcom you are watching on the television fills the silence in the apartment. It’s past nine at night, faint sounds of the traffic accompanies you as you drown yourself in the company of your comfort show.

Main door unlocks with a beep, the orange light turning on automatically sensing his presence. Seungcheol closes his eyes with a sigh, rubbing his temples from exhaustion. He removes his shoes and throws them haphazardly. Your eyes narrow at his act despite reminding him several times that it led to fighting.

His feet freeze as soon as he takes a step, his head dipping down watching his office shoes and your perfectly aligned shoes. Under the dim light you notice a soft smile on his lips, his gaze lovingly roving around the place noticing how you lined up the space, arranging both of your shoes. He nudges his screwed shoe next to yours, going back to the door where his other shoe is lying.

Once he perfectly arranges his’ next to yours, his smile is dazzling as his gaze watches how perfect you two are and how tiny your feet are. You nuzzle half of your face in the couch cushion you are holding in the lap, your heart going haywire at his crescent eye smile.

He saunters in, leaving his backpack on the way, rolling his head side to side stretching the tension in his neck. He rolls the sleeves of his white dress shirt, long strands of his hair falling on his face.

The veins on his hands catch your attention, making you gulp on nothing. A sigh escaping your parted lips at the veiny arms, and his lazily rolled sleeves till the elbow. He turns to the sudden burst of laughter coming from the television as one of the characters cracks a joke, his eyes watching the scene play out for the nth time.

There’s a slight shake of his head, somewhere between wonder and pissed at how many times you are going to rewatch the same show. He pulls his shirt out from a tuck, his feet leading to you in small steps.

Your heart picks up the beat in a slow pace, excitement bubbling inside you. Finally. He averts his attention from the television to you sitting on the couch, the small smile on his lips becoming a grin as his appreciative gaze falls on the tee you are wearing.

His tee to be precise. You are drowning in it so much that another person can fit into it. He stands next to you, his admiration for your bare legs written all over his face. He holds the back of your neck, bending down to your face. He examines your features, refreshing his memory while you hold your breath still nervous seeing him close, and hoping your heart won’t give out soon.

He plucks the cushion off of your lap, chill air hitting your bare thighs as your tee ridden up from the cushion. He leans in his forehead resting it against yours, eliciting a sigh from both of you. You close your eyes in anticipation from what’s gonna come next. It’s a ritual between you two.

He rubs his face against yours, his nose tracing along your cheek, his lips occasionally leaving kisses on the way. He tugs you up slightly, his hold tightening on your neck, his cheek now squishing yours. The rough scrape of his chin makes you shiver under his hold.

He presses a long kiss on your slightly parted lips, his tongue briefly darting out to taste your lips. He lets go of his hold on you, you fall back on the couch. You stare at the buttons on his shirt, the sliver of his hardened stomach peeking out between the buttons.

He lovingly runs his hands through your hair, he turns to the screen again as the opening song plays for the next episode. You circle your arms around his waist dragging his attention back to you. He resumes his fingers in your hair, satisfied with a smile on his lips seeing you nuzzle your cheek against his stomach.

“Hey weirdo.”

[hedoublehell]

BATHROOM

Damien Haas x f!reader

Damien. You. Bathroom. Fuck it.

SMUT -- 18+ ONLY!!!

Warnings: p in v, oral (male receiving), degradation kink, praise kink, spanking, dom/sub, dom!Damien, possessive!Damien sir/master kink, public sex, unprotected sex

Tags: @pedropascallme

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blast of the bass vibrates the building while you exit the Uber. Loiterers are huddled in a group outside of the venue, cigarette smoke filled into your lungs as you walk up to the bar. With a flick of your ID and a toothy smile the bouncer waved you in, pushing the door open with a haphazard nudge. 

Lights flashed in the small space, illuminating the crowd of fellow people attempting to escape the realities of life for a while. As your eyes flick over the space, a familiar shade of silver stands out from the rest. For a second you stay back, unable to pry your eyes off of blissfully unaware man. A silk black long sleeve is stretched across his frame, allowing for the natural contours of his biceps and shoulders to be on full display while still being covered. He’s turned to face Shayne, who’s nursing something in a small glass. Both of them have smiles plastered across their faces, eyes slightly closed as their bodies shake with laughter. Your chest tightened at the sight; he’s so beautiful, even under the harsh strobes of the night life. 

Slowly you make your way over, weaving yourself through the jiving bodies. Finally your eyes catch a glimpse of him again, your hand stretched out to reinforce the path that has opened up. After what feels like forever, your fingers grazed across his shoulder blade, announcing your arrival. Damien turns at the new pressure, his face lighting up at the realization it’s you behind him.

“You made it!” He cheered, slinging his arm around your shoulders. His bicep feathered across your bare skin, goosebumps standing in its wake. 

The others throw their glasses up in acknowledgement of your presence, their voices muddling in a slew of shouts over the music. A smile paints itself across your face as you stand there, Damien’s arm still weighing on your shoulders. In the corner of your eye you spot his eyes wandering up and down the thin red fabric draping over your frame. You know it clings to your curves in all the right ways- you made sure of that before walking out of the house- and the way Damien’s scan briefly hesitates on the plunging neckline signals that it was the right choice. The intensity in his gaze warms your body as you fight to maintain your composure. Act cool.

In direct defiance of your own orders, you turn to face him. Blue and purple lights dance off of his face, enhancing the natural highlights and shadows of his facial features. He’s looking down at you, his pupils dilated- whether from the influence or his enjoyment of the view you don’t know. 

“Hi,” you mime, eyes meeting his. 

He returns the welcome, his face falling into a smirk at the end of the syllable. You both stand there for a second, soaking in the physical contact. A level of intimacy washes over your bodies as the silk of his shirt rubs against the skin of your upper back. For a second, lust tightens your core, but quickly you push it aside. 

Damien dressed up was not something out of the ordinary, god knows how many times you’ve clubbed together, but you were never fully prepared for your body’s reaction to it. The breath in your lungs always seemed to flee at the sight of him in patterned pants and a tight shirt; they always managed to fit him perfectly, as if they were sewn onto his body. It seemed so effortless, too. His silver strands were rarely styled, often falling onto his face as the night dragged on, which caused him to have to continuously push it back, giving you a full view of how his chest expanded with the movement of his arm. Each time he did it, his eyes briefly flickered shut while his neck arched back to allow himself the right angle to mess it up. And each time you wondered if his eyes would flutter the same way while you pleased him. Nothing would beat that sight, except if he was naked as well.

As if the DJ could hear your internal dialogue, the familiar beat of your favourite song began to pump throughout the club. Reality came crashing back while excitement lurched through your body, making you untangle yourself from Damien and immediately taking off to the dance floor. The heat of movement enveloped you as you pushed further into the crowd, looking for the perfect place to set up. A relatively empty space in the far corner of the floor called out to you, and you eagerly filled it up. Progressively, the rhythm of the song embedded itself inside you, your heartbeat becoming one with the bass as you began to let yourself go. Subconsciously your hips swayed, the red fabric of your dress remaining glued to the curve of your ass as you moved it to the beat. Your eyes close slightly as you fully let yourself go, the music blasting over any thought that attempts to cross your mind.

After the week you had, this is what you needed– a dressed up Damien and a dancefloor. 

Looking up, you turn your attention back to where you left your fellow castmates. Everyone has scattered throughout the building, except for Damien, who is standing there, his eyes glued to the lower half of your body. Even through the flickering lights and the dense crowd, you could see the paleness in his knuckles clenching the bottle. He must be really worried about someone knocking it out of his hand.

As you turn to look away, his eyes interlock with yours. An unfamiliar sparkle briefly glints in Damien’s eyes before he blinks it away, replacing it with the gentle sheen that you’re used to. With a wink you turn back around, letting the music absorb you once again while erasing the thoughts of Damien. There was no point in pining over a man that only sees you as a friend, especially while in a crowd of people looking to head home with someone. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to fuck away your feelings for him.

After dancing for a while, the sting of thirst introduced itself to your lips. Groaning, you weave yourself through the bodies in an attempt to relocate the bar. Once you pull yourself through the edge of the dance floor, you beeline for the illuminated granite countertop, desperate for any form of liquid. The bartender, a 30 year old man with a black mullet and aviators, eyes you as you waddled up, sensing the need radiating off of you.

“What can I get you?” He asked once you reached him.

“A vodka redbull please.” You pant, hand already searching in your purse for your loose credit card. 

Before you manage to fish it out, an arm slithers out behind you and gently taps a credit card to the machine. 

“Consider it a gift,” the unfamiliar voice whispers, “or maybe an offering.” 

A lightning bolt struck your core as weight pressed into your back. With your newly acquired drink in hand, you shift your body to face the gifter.

He’s handsome– scruffy black hair frames his face, ending where his stubble begins. Shoulders are broad, emphasized by the tightness of his white tee. A smirk is painted across his face, eyes glossy with alcohol. Drunken excitement rekindles the fire in your heat as you absorb every inch of the man in front of you. While he’s not Damien, the confidence radiating from him voids that almost instantly. Maybe he will be it, the man that finally fucks your thirst for Damien out of you. Maybe this time you won’t have to bite your lip in an attempt to not whine Damien’s name while your cunt pulsates around another man’s cock. Shit, you haven’t even seen Damien in at least an hour, so who cares anymore? Might as well get some use out of your new dress.

“Thank you. I was getting thirsty, it’s so hot in here.” You smile, the straw of your drink taking purchase in the corner of your mouth. 

The nameless man wordlessly steps forward, closing the gap between you two. Whiffs of smirnoff and berries dance around him as he leans closer, his mouth aligning with your ear. Before a word manages to escape his lips, he’s gone. 

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend! Get the fuck off of her, man!” 

 The familiar pitch of Damien’s voice vibrates your chest as he pushes the man off of you. Without another word he scurries away, leaving you and Damien. The flashing lights overhead emphasize the heaving in his chest, highlighting the subtle definition found in his pecs with each breath. Confusion knots your stomach as you look up at him. 

“What the hell, Damien? Since when am I your girlfriend?” Mindlessly, you throw your hands against his shoulders in an attempt to shove him away. “You barely speak to me all night, or any night out for that matter, and suddenly you think you have claim over me? That’s not how this works.” 

His fingers lock around your wrists, the chipped nail polish on his fingers scratching the surface of your inner forearm. A moan threatens to escape your lips at the sudden contact, but the anger in your belly shrivels it up before it manages to leave.

“I can’t do this anymore.” An unknown gleam flickers in his eyes as he gazes down at you, unflinching.

“Do what?” You mutter, an exasperated sigh following the last syllable.

“I can’t go around anymore pretending that I’m okay with you going home with all these different guys. I mean- well- I am, because you are your own person and it's your choice, but that's besides the point. I want you. So. Fucking. Badly. If anyone is taking you home tonight while you’re in that fucking little tight red dress, it’s me. Got it?” By the time he’s done his lips are ghosting your ear, the warmth of his breath sliding down your neck. 

Desire slicks your thighs almost immediately as his words reverberate through your mind. All other noise muffles as it plays over and over as you just stare at him, mouth slightly agape. The warmth of his hands around your wrists becomes the only thing tethering you to reality as his words sink in. Damien. Wants. You. 

Suddenly, his hands move from your arms to your waist, coldness lingering where his digits used to be. You feel the subtle weight of each of his fingers through the thin fabric. His fingers gently flex around your waist, bringing you to your feet. Once again, his face lowers down to your ear.

“Now show me those dance moves you were doing earlier.”

Weaving through the sea of bodies, you find yourself in the same spot that you claimed earlier. Damien trails behind you, his hand tucked tightly in yours. With a quick turn on your heels, your gaze meets his. A wave of lust washes over you as your eyes remain fixed on his darkened pupils. Slowly, your hips begin to sway to the beat of the music. Damien remains planted, fixated on the way the strobe lights reflect off of the glitter buried in the red fabric. 

Without a second thought your hand extends to his, forcing him out of his daze.

“Who said you just had to watch, Damien?” You whisper into his ear, letting your breath linger on his neck.

Immediately his body is against yours, his chest warming your bare back. The soft silk of his shirt brushes against your skin as his hands trail down to your hips, his fingers digging into your plush flesh. A moan falls from your lips as you subconsciously push your ass into his crotch, the bulge of his cock pressing against the curve of your cheeks. With each flick of your hips, a sharp groan escapes the man behind you. Ignoring the growing slickness between your thighs, you continue to dance against him, only focusing on the way his body responds to yours.

Through your peripheral, you catch a glance of Damien. His silver hair is unruly, strands sticking up in every direction as if he’s been pushing it up every few seconds. His eyelids are slightly closed, and pupils are glossed over with lust as he continues to rock against you. If only clothes weren’t in the way. 

Sharply, you turn to face him. With a blink, the lust in his eyes is replaced with confusion as his posture fixes itself. Your hand gently curls around his wrist, letting your fingers linger as you step into the space between you. Your free arm slithers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours.

“Kiss. Me.” It comes out more as a plea than a request, but even with the bone-vibrating music blaring around you Damien manages to understand.

His lips ram into yours, a faint taste of Coca Cola coating your tongue as it works its way into his mouth. Moans spill out from both of you as desire takes over. His body begins to grind into yours as his hands find their way into your hair, interlacing his fingers into your locks. Your pussy pulsates as his cock brushes against your inner thigh with each swipe of his hips. Need soaks your panties, engulfs your thoughts. The only thing that matters right now is Damien, and how his hands feel better than any of the times you pretended yours were his. 

His teeth tug on your lip, gently bringing it down before letting it go to reconnect it to his. His fingers ghost along your sides before finding purchase on your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as his hips gently buck into yours. 

“Jesus,” he whimpers as he continues to grind against you, “I have been wanting you for an ungodly amount of time.” 

“Then have me, baby. I’m all yours.” You coo, littering kisses down his neck. 

Suddenly he pushes you off him, immediately interlacing your hand in his. He begins to drag you behind him as he zigzags off the dance floor. Mindlessly you follow, lust overriding any questions you may have as to where he’s taking you. A neon sign reading ‘BATHROOMS’ flashes above the narrow hallway. Damien continues down the corridor of single-person bathrooms, only stopping at the last one on the right. With a kick, the door squeaks open, and he pulls you in behind him. A subtle click of the lock causes reality to come crashing in.

Damien. You. Bathroom. 

Fuck it.

Immediately, you find yourself pinned to the door. Damien’s forearms frame your face as he locks his gaze with yours. The weight of his presence overwhelms your senses, sending flames to your core. Hungrily, his lips connect to yours. The sloppy, open kisses become littered with moans as his right hand finds its way to your breast, gently cupping it. Palming your tit, his index and thumb catch your nipple. Slowly, he twists it between his two digits, it stiffening with his repetitive movements. 

In response, your hands wander to his waist, landing at the hem of his silk shirt. Even under the dim lighting the fabric highlights the peaks and valleys of Damien’s mass. A gentle grunt escapes with your exhale as your pinkie drags along the exposed skin between his plaid pants and shirt. The ripple of his muscles dances against the tip of your finger as his hips shift lower, causing your digit to slip underneath his waistband.

“Fuck,” Damien breaks his lips from yours, his mouth now seeking purchase on your neck, “you’re going to undo me, slut.” 

The bulge of his stiffening cock brushes against your exposed thigh, sending shockwaves to your clit. No longer did you have to rely on other men to fuck Damien’s name off your lips, or use a vibrator to seek out pleasure with images of him flashing through your mind. This was the real thing, he was the real thing. 

“Let me undo you, please.” You subconsciously whine aloud, both hands now hooked on his waistband as his tongue explores the nape of your neck. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Damien grunts, “show me what I know you can do.”

Before he gets out the last syllable, you're on your knees, desperately tugging at his underwear and pants. With a huff, they fall down to his feet. His cock springs up in freedom, the pink tip gleaming with pre-cum. The sight of it alone leaves your thighs slick with need, your clit pulsating with anticipation.

Gingerly, you raise your hand to his shaft, loosely taking hold of it. Glancing up at Damien, his eyes are glued to each of your movements, appetite glistening in his pupils. 

“You can do it baby, I know you can,” he coos, interlacing his digits in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail. 

Your mouth quickly latches onto his tip, your tongue leisurely drawing circles around his slit. Your hand follows suit, unabashedly stroking his cock. Praises spill out of Damien’s mouth as you continue to work, progressively losing yourself in the sound of spit, moans, and the bass of the club music leaking through the walls. 

“S-so good, what a good whore you are.” 

In response, you swallow his cock to the base, hollowing your cheeks as it hits the back of your throat. Tears begin to swell in your waterline, threatening to spill with each second you keep him there, but you ignore them. Slavia dribbles down your chin as you gag as Damien thrusts his hips, pushing his shaft deeper. His gaze connects with yours, his eyes glossy with satisfaction as his mouth falls open, a symphony of groans slipping from between his lips. 

“Holy shi-t. Let me fuck you before I cum, princess.” He chuckles through a groan, snaking his arms underneath your armpits. 

With a gentle tug and a spin you find yourself leaning against the sink, the coldness of the porcelain seeping through your dress. You glance into the mirror, your reflection staring back as spit and tears collect at your chin. Streaks of red lipstick paint your cheeks, chin, and the tip of your nose.

“Admiring how beautiful you are after a face-fucking?” Damien growls, entering the reflection. 

“Ye-yes sir.” You whimper, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. 

“Good,” Damien’s hands slide up the curve of your ass, his thumbs collecting the fabric of your dress, “because we’ve only just started.” 

Damien slides your panties down your thighs before letting gravity do the rest of the work to get them to the floor. A soft moan rumbles from his chest as admires your dripping, bare cunt. Gingerly, he raises his index finger to your slit, letting your juices soak the tip before bringing it back to his mouth. His tongue dances along his digit, lapping up any trace of you on his skin. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you taste so fucking good, princess.” He sighs, finger still in his mouth. 

“Now imagine how good I must feel.” You retort, jiving your ass against his bare thighs. 

His hands immediately shoot to your hips, his fingernails marking crescent moons into your flesh.

“If that’s how you want to play, whore, you could’ve just told me.” 

An unfamiliar weight presses against your lower back, its wetness sending shivers down your spine. 

“Say please.” 

You groan, pressing your thighs together in anticipation.

“P-ple..please.” You sputter, arching your back further and reconnecting your look with Damien’s in the mirror. 

Without a second to process, fullness overwhelms your senses as Damien haphazardly thrusts into you. Each centimetre of his cock stretches your cunt as thank you’s spill from your lips over and over again in tempered moans. 

“What a good whore you are for me,” he grunts, his tongue ghosting down your spine as he continues to fuck you into the sink. 

Your eyelids flutter shut as the feeling of Damien’s shaft overrides every nerve in your body. Each shove of his hips smashes your hip bones into the porcelain in front of you, sending satisfactory pain down your spine. Without a doubt there will be bruises in the morning, but they’ll only serve as proof that isn’t some alcohol-fueled sex dream. Soft whimpers roll from your mouth as you push back into Damien’s back in a desperate attempt to get more of him inside.

“Look at me while I’m fucking you.” Damien growls, his thumb and his index wrapping around your chin, shoving it upwards.

Your eyes snap open in response, your stare landing on the single piece of silver hair dangling in front of Damien’s right eye. The tip of it points directly at his lips, which are pulled into an unruly smile, his canines on full display. 

“There you go, baby. Let me see those beautiful eyes while I fuck tears into them.” A strangled moan rumbles through you in response, unable to get any proper words out as Damien completely bottoms out inside you, his balls pressing against the inside of your thighs. 

“You were so talkative before I brought you in here,” he coos, “what happened, whore? Too busy focusing on my cock to think of a sarcastic comment?” 

Another moan escapes between your quivering lips as he removes his hand from your chin, using it instead to lay a sharp smack on your bare ass. A stinging sensation ripples throughout your cheek as he thumbs the reddened skin. Tears dance along your waterline, threatening to spill over.

“My poor slut, all she can think about is dick.” He chuckles, glancing down at where you two connect. “My dick.”

“Yes s–sir,” you manage to choke out, “better than how I imagined.” 

His eyes flicker back up to yours in the reflection, a new brightness lighting his gaze. 

“You actually thought about this?” His voice flooded with shock, his dominant persona momentarily faltering. You nod frantically.

“All the time, Damien. All. The. Fucking. Time. Pretended other cocks were yours. Pretended my hands were yo–yours. H–have always wa…wanted you.” You pant, grinding your ass against him, the hair on his upper-thighs gently prick the sensitive flesh of your back-half. “None of them come close.” 

Once again, his gaze darkens. 

“Tell me more.”

Flashes of one night stands paint your memory as Damien continues to haphazardly buck his hips against your ass, your train of thought restarting with each smack of his skin against yours. 

“Tried to fill my want with other people, but nothing c-could replace you,” a whimper escapes as the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot in your core, “no one could fuck it out of me.” 

Wetness spills over your waterline, falling onto your cheeks as Damien repeatedly drills against your g-spot. Before tightness could grasp your core, emptiness replaced the overwhelming sensation that was him inside you. With a swift twist of your hip, Damien shoves you on top of the sink, his face mere inches from yours. This close you could see the light spattering of freckles across his cheeks from the LA sun, even in the shitty bathroom lighting. God, was he beautiful, even as a bead of sweat danced down his right eyebrow. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with desire as he subconsciously spread your legs with his hips.

“Please let me kiss you,” he whines, his lower lip slightly jutting out.

A nod was all you were able to muster before he attacked your lips, his tongue immediately finding a home within your mouth. Traces of coke lingered as he swept it across your teeth, a moan emanating from your throat as he teased you. The now familiar weight of his cock rests against your inner thigh, causing you to sway your hips with need. 

“Can’t stand you not being inside me, sir. Plea-”

His cock reenters your heat, stretching your walls as he spears you to the hilt. 

“Don’t need to ask me twice, baby girl. Especially not while you’re in that fucking dress.” 

Damien arbitrarily sucks at the exposed skin of your neck, leaving red marks in his wake as he continues down to your chest. Gingerly he loops his tongue around your nipple, sucking at the hard flesh in beat with his sloppy thrusts. The bass of the club music echoes throughout the enclosed space, giving Damien a rhythm to follow as you progressively re-lose yourself to the feeling of him buried deep.

The subtle buzz of climate begins to knot itself in your lower stomach as your body moves in tandem with his. Slick dribbles down your bare thigh, a few rogue drops landing on the porcelain underneath your cunt. As your desire tightens around the fullness, Damien’s cock hardens even more with each subsequent slam of your pussy. You can tell he’s close, and you’re not far behind him as he pushes you further onto the sink, shifting the angle where his shaft skims along your clit with each exit and reentry. 

“D-Damien. Oh my fucking… god…!” Your back arches in response to his new pace as he becomes frantic as if he’s trying to milk every ounce of pleasure from your cunt. 

With one last snap of his hips, your mind goes blank as every part of your body but your pussy becomes numb. All you can feel is Damien, and the orgasm that has been literal years into the making. Desperately you claw into his back as you make a frenzied attempt to ride the high as long as possible. Gentle sobs escape your lips alongside moans of his name as you feel the sting of overstimulation dance along the tips of your nerves. But you couldn’t care less.

With one deep groan, heat rushes through your body as Damien reaches his own climax. His hands rest on your thighs, his fingernails leaving crescent moon divots in your flesh as he grounds himself into you. With one final thrust, his cock empties into you. 

Through your eyelashes you catch the beauty of Damien mid-orgasm. His eyelids remain half closed as he progressively slows down. Sweat dampens his hairline, his skin glistening in the bathroom fluorescents as a toothy grin spreads across his face in pleasure. It was better than you could have ever imagined.

Gently, Damien exits your opening, leaving a trail of cum in his wake as he leans over the counter to grab a wad of toilet paper. 

“If this was at home I promise the aftercare would be better.” He laughs, dabbing the milky substance off of your inner thigh. 

“Well obviously you would use 4-ply instead of 2-ply to clean up the river of potential children leaking out from me.” You quip back, reaching over your back to quickly wet the corner of one of the wads of shitty paper.

“Of course darling, you deserve nothing but the finest toilet paper for the post-sex cleanup.” 

While turning back you manage to catch his gaze. The familiar gleam has returned to his brown irises, the same one that would glisten when you would take the longer route to your desk in the morning to wave a quick hello to Damien while he walked to set, the same one that he would give you when showing you a meme that made him think of a conversation you shared two weeks prior, the same one that you could now find the word for. It was excitement. Excitement to see you, excitement to be with you, excitement that he could prove to you that you were known.

Without a second thought you leaned in, gingerly pressing your lips to his. Immediately he returned the gesture, softly placing his palm against your cheek. 

“We should get back out there before anyone notices we disappeared,” you whisper against his lips, your words just barely audible over the thumping bass of the shitty club music.

“For all they know we could have just gone home.” 

His hand weaves into your hair, his fingers gently cradling the base of your neck. 

“This was much better than just going home and pretending my hand was you.” Absent-mindedly, you lean into his touch, craving the warmth of his skin.

“I’m glad. At least you have a memory instead of a dream for next time.” 

[sturnstarrz]

part one ✞︎

"watch your back." contains: mafia!chratt au, angst word count: 2k

The diner was quiet tonight, the kind of stillness that made the minutes drag into hours. The faint hum of the overhead lights mingled with the soft clatter of dishes in the back. You leaned against the counter, staring at the clock as it ticked closer to closing time.

You sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Your feet ached from standing all day, and your mind wandered to your mother at home, likely asleep now, with the television flickering softly. It was a slow night—too slow—and your thoughts felt like a weight pulling you under.

The bell above the door jingled, pulling you from your daze. Your head snapped up, and your heart stopped.

Matt.

He strode in like he owned the place, the same self-assured air he’d carried since you were kids. He was taller now, broader, his dark hair slightly tousled in a way that looked effortless. The suit he wore was flawless, tailored to perfection. He looked too put together to be in a small, run down diner like this one.

You froze, gripping the edge of the counter. What was he doing here? After all these years, why tonight? You hadn’t seen him or his brothers for the past few months, and when you used to, you avoided them at all costs.

Keeping your head down whenever they happened to be in the neighborhood, pretending not to see them. It was just too awkward and tense to bear.

He moved to the back of the diner, choosing a booth in the farthest corner. The soft leather creaked as he slid into the seat, his movements deliberate, calm. He leaned back, one arm draped over the booth’s edge, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on you.

Your stomach twisted. Of course, tonight had to be the night your coworker called out, leaving you alone on the floor. You briefly considered pretending not to notice him, hoping he’d leave, but you knew better.

Matt didn’t do things without purpose. If he was here, he wanted you to see him.

Your legs felt like lead as you grabbed a menu and made your way to his table. You smoothed your apron nervously, your fingers trembling slightly. When you reached him, you kept your gaze firmly on the laminated menu in your hands, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Welcome to Frankie’s Diner,” you say, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. “Can I get you started with anything?”

There was a pause—a heavy, charged silence.

“Just a slice of apple pie,” Matt said, his tone maddeningly calm.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Okay. Apple pie. Got it.”

You take the menu from him, his fingers brushing yours as he hands it to you. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through you like a live wire. Your breath caught, and despite your better judgment, your eyes snapped up to his blue ones.

His gaze was intense, darker than you remembered, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the diner faded away.

He says your name softly, rolling off his tongue like a secret.

Your heart hammers in your chest, but you tear your eyes away, retreating a step. “I’ll, uh, get that pie for you.”

You turned quickly, hurrying back to the kitchen, your hands shaking as you reached for a plate and a slice of pie. What were you supposed to think? Of him being here, looking at you like that?

You forced yourself to take a deep breath before returning to his table. You set the plate down carefully, your eyes fixed on the dessert rather than him. “Here you go,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out.

Matt didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod. You didn’t wait for more, spinning on your heel and retreating to the counter, where you busied herself wiping down already-clean surfaces.

The tension in the air was suffocating. You could feel his eyes on you, even though you refused to look. Minutes stretched on, each one heavier than the last, until finally, the bell above the door jingled again.

You glanced up in time to see Matt walking out, the door swinging shut behind him. He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t even acknowledged you as he left.

You exhale, the tension in your chest loosening, though your heart still raced. You grabbed a rag and headed to his table, determined to erase any trace of his presence.

That’s when you saw it.

On the napkin, written in neat, bold letters, was a single sentence:

“Watch your back.”

Your breath caught, your hands trembling as you picked up the napkin. The words seemed to pulse with an unspoken warning… or maybe a promise.

You glanced toward the door, half-expecting him to be standing there, watching you. But the street outside was empty.

It wasn’t until later that night, when you were buried underneath the covers in your bed, your mind filled with unavoidable thoughts, when a memory from years ago reminds you of what Matt meant.

1980 – 8th grade

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the neighborhood in warm amber hues as you walked home from school with Nick, Matt, and Chris. The triplets flanked you like a wall of silent protectors, their backpacks slung casually over their shoulders.

It had been a long day, and your nerves were already frayed. The teasing had started in second period when Tommy Baker—the class clown turned into relentless tormentor—had decided you were his target. By the time the final bell rang, you were brimming with a mixture of frustration and humiliation.

As you turned the corner onto Maple Street, you saw them: Tommy and his group of friends, lounging against the chain-link fence near the old baseball field.

Your stomach twisted, but you squared your shoulders, determined not to show fear.

“Look who it is,” Tommy sneered as you approached. His friends snickered, their laughs grating against your ears. “Little Miss Know-It-All with her bodyguards.”

“Leave her alone,” Nick said sharply, stepping forward. His tone carried a warning, but Tommy only grinned wider.

“What, can’t she fight her own battles?” Tommy shot back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Your cheeks burned. “I don’t need them to fight for me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah?” Tommy smirked. “You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re about to cry, princess.”

You clenched your fists, the weight of his taunts crashing over you. “Shut up, Tommy,” you snapped, surprising even yourself.

Tommy’s grin faltered for a moment, but then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock whisper. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Cry some more? Maybe I should buy you a box of tissues.”

That was it. The dam broke.

“I hate you!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “One day, I’m going to get back at you, Tommy Baker, and you’ll regret ever messing with me!”

Tommy and his friends burst out laughing, the sound echoing in your ears like a cruel chorus. “Good luck with that,” Tommy said, his laughter turning mean. “You’re nothing but a little crybaby bitch.”

Before you could respond, Nick’s fist connected with Tommy’s jaw.

The sound was sickening—a dull thud followed by Tommy’s startled yelp. He staggered back, clutching his face, and the laughter stopped cold.

“Don’t you ever talk to her like that again,” Nick growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

Tommy’s friends jumped into action, shoving Nick and throwing punches at Matt and Chris, who immediately leaped to defend their brother. The fight was chaotic—grunts, shouts, and the crunch of sneakers on gravel filled the air.

Nick tackled Tommy to the ground, landing blow after blow until Tommy’s nose bled and his cries turned desperate. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Tommy choked out, but Nick didn’t stop.

“Nick, stop!” you cried, your voice breaking.

Matt and Chris finally yanked Nick off Tommy, holding him back as he struggled to break free. “He deserves it!” Nick shouted, his face red with fury.

“Enough!” Matt barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. “He’s done. Let’s go.”

Tommy and his friends lay scattered on the ground, groaning and clutching their bruises. You could hear distant voices—neighbors, maybe even someone calling the cops.

“Run,” Matt said sharply.

Without a word, the four of you took off, your hearts pounding as you sprinted through back alleys and side streets until you reached the Sturniolo house.

Once inside, Chris led you to the couch, sitting beside you as you tried to catch your breath. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his hand resting gently on your shoulder.

 You were lucky their parents weren’t home yet. They would’ve been upset that the four of you caused a scene, especially Jimmy. Their father was not a pleasant man when he was upset with the boys.

You nodded, though tears still streamed down your cheeks. “I didn’t want it to go that far,” you whispered.

Nick gave you a small, reassuring smile from the other side of the couch. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. We’ve got your back.”

Matt paced the living room, his face dark with frustration. “This is why you’ve got to be tougher.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You can’t let people like Tommy walk all over you.”

You looked up at him, your lip trembling. “I tried to stand up to him, but—”

“But you didn’t finish it,” Matt interrupted. “We can’t always be there to protect you. One day, you might be on your own, and you’ve got to know how to handle yourself.”

Chris shot him a warning look. “Matt, come on—”

“No,” Matt said, his gaze locking onto yours. “I mean it. We’ll always watch your back, but you’ve got to watch your own, too.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You nodded slowly, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your jacket.

“Good,” Matt said, his tone softening just slightly. “Now go clean yourself up. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t forget that.”

You glanced at Chris, who gave you a small nod of encouragement. Then you stood, heading to the bathroom to wash away the tears and the memory of Tommy’s taunts.

Your heart races as you recall the memory, panic seeping into your chest. Matt was warning you of something. That’s why he came into the diner, knowing that would be the only way you couldn’t avoid seeing or talking to him.

You try to sleep but feel restless, tossing and turning until the sunlight shines through your bedroom window.

"Watch your back."

With a deep breath, you slid out of bed and dressed for the day, choosing a soft sweater and a pair of worn jeans. It was early February in New York, and one of the warmer days since the beginning of the year.

 You pulled your hair back into a loose ponytail, avoiding your reflection in the mirror too long. The faint dark circles under your eyes betrayed the restless night you’d had.

A faint cough from the next room broke your thoughts. You peeked into your mom’s room. Your mother lay propped up on pillows, her fragile frame almost swallowed by the bedding. Her aunt sat by her side, spooning medicine into her mouth with practiced care.

“Heading out?” your aunt asked without looking up.

You nod. “Yeah, to the library. I’ll be back later.”

Your mother’s tired eyes opened slightly. “Be safe, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“I will,” you whispered back, leaning down to kiss your mother’s forehead. You gave your aunt a grateful look before slipping out of the room.

Downstairs, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Stepping outside, the crisp morning air greeted you, and you took a moment to steady yourself.

But your resolve faltered when you spotted them across the street.

The triplets stood in their driveway, leaning casually against a sleek black car. Even from a distance, their presence was magnetic, a force you couldn’t ignore.

Nick saw you first. His face lit up with a grin, and he lifted a hand in an enthusiastic wave.

Your heart skipped. You hesitated, then gave a shy wave back, keeping your head low as you started walking down the block. Maybe if you just kept moving—

Nick’s voice carried easily across the quiet street, shouting your name, and before you knew it, he was jogging toward you.

He slowed his pace but didn’t stop, not until he was right in front of you, his broad smile impossible to resist.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breath, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. “You’re really just gonna walk past us like that? Don’t tell me you’re gonna continue to ignore our entire existence for another 5 years?”

“I’m sorry, I.. I—” You falter, glancing briefly at the brothers still across the street. Chris stood with his arms crossed, watching you intently. His smirk was subtle, but it sent a flutter through your chest. Matt, as stoic as ever, took a drag from his cigarette, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you finally said, looking back at Nick.

Nick chuckled softly. “Interrupt what? Us standing around being bored? Nah, you’d be doing us a favor.”

You smiled despite herself, Nick’s easygoing energy as disarming as it had always been.

“Listen,” he said, his tone turning slightly more serious. “We’re hosting our uncle’s birthday celebration tonight at the club downtown. You should come.”

Your eyes widened, and you instinctively shook her head. “Nick, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” he interrupted, grinning again. “Just say yes. I’ll call you a taxi, have it pick you up. You won’t even have to worry about getting there.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. “I don’t know, Nick. It’s been… a long time. Things are different now.”

“Not that different,” he said, stepping closer. His voice softened, his eyes earnest. “We miss you- I miss you. Just come, for old times’ sake. You’ll be safe. You know we’d never let anything happen to you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his tone tugging at your resolve. You glanced over your shoulder again.

Chris was still watching, his smirk deepening when your eyes met. It was a look that held a thousand unspoken words, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You quickly looked away, your gaze landing on Matt.

Matt’s expression was unreadable, his sharp features shadowed as he took another drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled lazily around him, but his eyes never left yours. There was something both infuriating and alluring about the way he stared, like he was daring you to refuse.

“So, what do you say?” Nick’s voice brought you back, his hand lightly brushing your arm.

You looked at him, his familiar warmth grounding you in a way you couldn’t explain. There was no denying how much you missed Nick… and Chris and Matt. You wondered how their mother was doing. Had their uncle completely changed them?

 From the way Nick spoke with such sincerity it made you doubt that.

With a sigh, you nodded.

“Fine,” you said quietly. “I’ll come.”

Nick’s grin returned, triumphant. “Good. I’ll take care of everything. The taxi will be outside at eight. Be ready.”

He squeezed your arm gently before turning back toward the driveway.

As he rejoined his brothers, you lingered for a moment, watching them again. Chris gave you a quick wink before Matt muttered something to him, his gaze still locked on you. You were too far away to hear what he said, but you felt the weight of his stare long after you turned and continued walking toward the town center.

Your steps were slow, your mind swirling with unease and anticipation. You told yourself it was just one night. One night wouldn’t change anything.

But deep down, you knew better.

read introduction here a/n: i just realized how dramatic this story actually is lol but i like it, hope u do too <3 also, i haven't seen it but if anyone has written this au before, pls let me know so i can give credit. divider credits : @bernardsbendystraws taglist requested ! : @watercolorskyy @matthewsturnsgf @ananskanansbsnwbensb

[thedovesaredying]

Alstroemeria | Nikto x F!Reader

TW Mild Gore

It’s a widely known fact that you despise Nikto. The team know it, the higher-ups know it, and no one knows it better than Nikto himself. He does nothing but cause trouble for you, forcing you to waste your time tracking him down like a foxhound racing through the woods, cornering him with a fierce snarl. No matter how many times he tries to disappear, you always end up dragging him out of his hiding place, tail between his legs.  

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when he learned that the team had dubbed you “Hound”.  

He’s never been good at submitting to medical checkups, but at KorTac, it’s mandatory for each operator to visit their assigned medic immediately after being deployed on a mission. His previous medics would run away like frightened pups the moment he snapped out a quick “fuck off”, learning to leave him to lick his own wounds.  

You’re not his old medics. You have no qualms about throwing open the door to his private quarters and snatching him up by the back of his neck like a bitch scruffing an unruly pup. He either gets dragged to medical or forced to sit while you check him over for any injuries, entirely unconcerned by his grumbling and growling.  

You must despise how he makes you chase after him when you’re overworked as it is. If it weren’t for your dedication to your job, you’d have likely left him to die from infection long ago. Instead, you were the one to drag him off the field, bleeding out from a wound to his gut, so bad he was certain he’d finally reached his limit.  

Packing his wound had been agonising and pressing down on it had him seeing stars. You ignored his screams and curses, merely pressing down harder as his hot blood travelled ever further up your arms. You look good covered in his blood, he recalls thinking to himself, delirious as he watched you holding his life in your hands. An angel of life? An angel of death? No doubt you could be both.  

You hate him.  

You must hate him. 

So why do his lungs ache with each and every breath? Why does his chest get tighter with each passing moment? Why does it burn whenever he feels your hands, firm yet gentle on his damaged skin?  

He stares at the white petals sitting in the bottom of the sink, their perfect colour tainted by the splatters of blood. He reaches into his mouth, gloved fingers digging into the back of his throat and trying to grasp hold of the sharp object stabbing into his tongue. He grips what can only be some sort of thick strand, pulling it – then immediately releasing, gagging and choking as pain explodes in the centre of his chest – something breaks free and he stares at it in the palm of his hand.  

A stem, bright green and covered in a mixture of saliva and blood.  

You hate him, and it’s slowly killing him.  

-

Got inspired by @/lethalchiralium mentioning the lack of the hanahaki disease trope in the CoD fandom. Unedited, we die like mne!

[httpiastri]

osc podium smut 🫶

love this!! i’m about to fall asleep any second so sorry if this makes no sense, but i just had the thought about finishing my podium fic from suzuka and remaking it to fit this weekend, but… sweet sweet boy was so exhausted after the race, ain’t no way i would be able to do anything other than get him into bed and drink the world’s largest bottle of water 😭 my mind is sadly only in soft thoughts mode rn (but that can def change)

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, cunnīlingus, fīngering, dirty talk, talking through it, squīrting, praise, mdni.

husband nanami who loves to rub his wedding ring against your sopping folds so your pussy always remember who it belongs to.

“she’s so pretty,” he’d whisper against your soaked entrance, feeling you throb against the silver band that wraps around his thick finger. nanami’s breath was airy hot, it fans against your slick heat and makes you intake a single sharp breath. you’re languidly laid back against the cushioned mattress, openly gawking at him merrily playing between your legs. “you’re prettier though sweetheart,” and you shudder, feeling his balmy lips plant a single kiss against your cunt. “mmh,” and a cobwebby string of sap drags out to stick onto his lips at the sloppy contact. nanami continues to rub his pearly band up and down your slit slowly, maneuvering enticing circles against your pulsating clit as he feels you writhe. “how’s it feel, my love?”

“don’t—stop, ‘ken,” you whimper, fishing a hand through his shaggy blond strands. dimples crease near the corners of his lips as he smiles, flicking his tongue against your poor twitching nub. “fuck, r.. right there, more.”

nanami lets off a breathy chuckle and the air that exits from his lips aerates onto your drooling folds. you’re soaked, and as his lips hungrily latch against your clit, he gives it a romantic french kiss. “whatever you want, wifey,” he purrs, such tease dripping underneath his tone. pretty lashes of his flutter shut as his right hand remains right between your thighs. nanami feels your cunt throb even faster once the frigid ring repeatedly smears against your pudgy folds. up and down, he’s gradual and slow — feeling his own dick in his slacks twitch at the sounds of your sloshing cunt bounce off the walls. “my, my, seems like our girl’s still got quite the mouth on her today.”

your legs struggled to stay pried open and he found it so cute. it was just the way your body would always respond to him, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and shiver. with a soft smile, nanami spreads your plump folds apart with two fingers—giving it a soft succulent suck.

“mmh,” and his eyes close before opening again, admiring how much your pretty pussy resembles a blooming flower. “aw, sweetheart. you’re looking away from me, don’t do that,” and his voice was a tauntingly deep rasp. it was husky, and as he’s prodding a lengthy finger against your slit, you whimper.

“eyes on me, eyes on kento—hey you,” and his voice lowers the exact moment you meet his lust filled gaze. butterflies swarm through your tummy and you gulp, feeling your chest tighten. at that moment, you throbbed and he felt it right against his flat tongue. “good girl.”

“k- ken.. ngh,” you whine, locking your quavering legs around his neck. nanami’s teeth gingerly nip at your tender folds as he inserts his ring finger inside of your saturated cunt. you quickly squeeze and clamp around his digit that’s slowly pumping itself inside. the band of the ring tickles around your tender skin and your legs grow weak. “ ‘m gonna c- cum again, kento—fuck.”

bringing his lips toward your sensitive clit once more, he gives it a few passionate kisses. aa his eyes close—he’s so into it. nanami’s imagining it’s your lips he’s kissing, swirling his tongue around and sucking at your pulsating nub. he could almost taste you.

glossy glimmering strings trail down the crevices of his lips and he hums, sliding in another finger. “hold it, sweetheart. hold it for me,” and his voice was husky, baritone hiding underneath each word he spoke. nanami’s soft fawn eyes flicker back up toward you before he gives your cunt a playful encouraging pat. “can you do that? be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer?”

“kento—hngh,” you whimper out, feeling your back arch against the velveteen pillows that sink beneath your weight. the air felt substantially thick as you’re getting closer and closer, and your ears started to hear nothing but pure white noise.

nanami’s fingers were insanely long, and he’s twisting them both around inside of your pussy in mouthwatering clockwise circles. “fuck, fuck,” and he chuckles, feeling you grab onto his hair.

messy blond tresses of his tangle within your fingers as he slowly guides his tongue up against down against your cunt. so sweet. as he’s multi-tasking, each time he delves his digits in and out, you feel a shortness of breath. his fingertips waste no time at reaching your g-spot and that’s all it took for you to nearly lose it. “ah, so squirmy today,” he purrs as the button tip of his nose brushes against your soddened folds. “go ‘head then i guess, honey. you can let got f’ me. ‘s okay.”

“k- kento.. oh my goddd,” you moan, slouched back against the cushioned mattress. it’s as if time stood still. everything felt carnal - your pupils were blown and you found yourself gnawing on your lip. you knew your orgasm was coming but like always — you were never prepared.

it comes in waves, roiling crashing waves that made your body succumb once the waters hit. the ‘water’ being your cascading slick that drenches nanami’s entire mouth from the chin down. you gush out abruptly as your legs still wrap around his face, letting off the most melodic shrilling whine.

“there we go, that’s it princess,” he whispers, still having his lips attached to your honeyed cunt. by now, he’s slipped out his fingers but presses his ring finger right back against your convulsing clit, rubbing it back and forth . .

the squelches that left out of you were loud, and he can’t help the curving smile that spreads against his lips. “there she goes,” he softly says, staring as you succumb to your long awaited orgasm. it felt like shockwaves ran through every spasming vein in your body as you leisurely grew limp. he’s still between your legs, and he licks his pink lips with an even hungrier grin.

“mhm, sweet as always, honey,” and you moan, watching nanami bring his ring finger up to his pursed lips, the same finger that was just buried deep inside of your pussy only a few seconds ago. within a blink of an eye, it disappears into his mouth as he licks the slick of you right off, his tongue gliding across the wet insipid band of his ring that drips with your sap. “you always feed me so well.”

“k- kento.” you moan, the stickiness between your legs making you pulse even more. nanami hums, glancing down underneath you and at the soaked sheets — creating a damp grey spot with how you made quite the mess from his tongue and he simpers.

pressing his thin lips together, he gives your sopping cunt one final kiss. “shhh, i know baby. i know,” and as you’re still trying to catch your breath, nanami goes back to eating you out. like the starved man he was. but this time, he’s spelling out letters with the pointed tip of his tongue. not just any letters though - he’s spelling out those same seven letters he asked you the day he got down on one knee — marry me?

“hng, don’t stop kento, please,” you whimper, your sensitive folds making you continuously heave irregular breaths in and out. his tongue curls all around, rummaging through each part of your gripping pussy before he sucks hard, earning a squeak from you.

“don’t plan on it,” he whispers, wrapping his mouth around your clit. nanami was still slow and gentle nonetheless—and it doesn’t take long before he’s already starting to get pussy drunk. a sleazy grin compresses against both corners of his lips as he continues to spell out those letters with his tongue. the salacious zigzags and curls he forms with just the tip of his tongue makes your toes curl and as you give him one more yank by the hair, he hums.

“mhm. already proposed to you, so why not propose to this pretty pussy too.”

[sugoroo]

# PUT ME IN A MOVIE!

ʚɞ summary. in which the jjk men decide to send a snippet of your fun in the sheets to a friend, so you better be ready to put on a good show. . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, exhibitionism, filming of sex, oral (m receiving), facial, fingering, pussy slaps, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, spanking + brief choking in toji's, squirting, handjob, 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO

"yeahhh, stay just like that for me, baby," satoru croons as he peers down at your patiently waiting form, raising the phone slightly to get the best possible angle of your position knelt between his legs. "suguru's gonna dig this."

"isn't he gonna be pissed at you for sending him something like this while he's on a mission abroad?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as your boyfriend quickly dismisses your question with a simple wave of his hand.

"nah, i'm sure he'll appreciate having some... material to keep him sated during that boring ass assignment." the white-haired menace grins unapologetically, reaching down with his free hand to push some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. "—not to mention, he's always going on about how pretty he finds you. he should be honoured i'm willing to let him see this, honestly."

"if you say so, toru," you hum sceptically with a small shrug, earning yourself a fond head pat from the aforementioned man as he returns his attention to the view from behind the screen. "and what do you want me to do, exactly?"

"just do what you usually would before sucking me off," satoru instructs, before pausing to scratch the underside of his chin thoughtfully. "but add a little more teasing just to make him squirm when he watches it, heh."

"that's so mean! poor sugu." you tease lightly, running your hands over his toned thighs through the material of his sweatpants. there's already a visible tent growing at the crotch; no doubt from the mere idea that his bestfriend is going to be witnessing this exact moment in a few hours, too.

"oh yeah, he's just sooo mistreated by getting a video of my hot girlfriend putting her mouth on my dick." he gasps theatrically, before erupting into a small fit of laughter at his own antics, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

"now now, don't go getting ahead of yourself." you tut chidingly, punishing him with a sharp flick to his pelvis through his trousers and causing him to yelps dramatically in pain — however, the sound quickly morphs into a soft moan when you soothe the sting by nuzzling your nose against it.

purposefully teasing him just as you were told, you drag your face from the side of his hip to the unmistakeable bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants, brushing your lips over it and gazing up at the camera lens of the phone through your lashes.

"mmm. look at her, suguru," satoru groans deeply, using two fingers to zoom in on your expression as you start gently mouthing at his clothed erection. "bet you wish she was doing this to you right now, huhh?"

but his plans to utter mocking comments to his friend throughout the duration of the video quickly unravel once you've gotten his lower half bare, the only sounds leaving his lips being broken whines and moans of pleasure as you work him over with your mouth and tongue.

"f-fuck, baby, that's—" he attempts to speak, bright eyes rolling back so far in his head he swears he sees the pearly white gates of heaven when you start fondling his neglected balls in time with the practised bobs of your head. "so goood."

"yeah?" you murmur once you slide your mouth off the end of his saliva-coated cock with a lewd pop!, blinking up at both him and the camera with a mischievous smile. "or maybe you're just feeling even more sensitive than usual because you know suguru's gonna be watching this later, hmm?"

"h-hey!" satoru whisper-shouts in embarrassment, pale cheeks visibly staining a deep shade of pink behind the phone as a little trickle of gooey pre-cum oozes from his angered tip as a result of your words. "don't say stuff like that, he'll never let me live it down."

"oh, come on," you chuckle in amusement, slowly lolling your tongue out to lick a long, teasing stripe across the underside of his veiny shaft. "like he isn't gonna be jerking one out to this exact part of the video imagining what you looked like behind the camera while i did this to you."

"shit— y-you really think he'll do that?" he breathes out shakily, cock twitching from both the visual image you've conjured up in his head and the feeling of your pleasureful ministrations against him.

"oh, i know he will," you purr in a low, sultry caress of a tone as you flick the tip of your tongue over his leaking slit just the way he likes it. "he'll probably even cum at the same time you do, just from hearing your sounds."

"oh god... baby, ngh!, i'm g-gonna—" and satoru can't even finish his sentence before he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, thick ropes of milky cum spurting from his cockhead and splattering across your features.

"hm, i think you might've been right after all," you muse as you collect some of his release from your cheek, delving it into your mouth and making direct eye contact with the camera while sucking it from the digit. "suguru is gonna dig this."

SUGURU GETO

"ah ah, c'mon, pretty, none of that," suguru scolds as you try to snap your legs closed again, prying them right back open with his free hand while the other brings the phone closer to your dripping cunt. "gotta make sure satoru gets a good view, don't we?"

you whine in embarrassment, bringing your own hands up to cover your heated face as your boyfriend uses two of his slender fingers to separate your puffy pussy lips, a low groan leaving his throat as he does so.

"such a cute little pussy, aren't you?" he croons, seemingly having no reservations about talking to it as he trails the pad of one of his fingers down your leaking slit. "yeahh, i know you are. and so does satoru now, too."

"s-sugu, stop it!" you squeak quietly, peering down at him between the cracks of your fingers with an involuntary pout. he only chuckles at your display of shyness, the edges of his violet eyes crinkling with amusement as he reaches up to gently tug your hands away from your face.

"and why should i, baby?" suguru hums smoothly, trapping both of your wrists in the grip of one of his large hands while he props the phone up against your thigh so he can continue playing with your cunt. "i know you secretly like it, otherwise she wouldn't be so soaked."

"t-that's not—!" you huff in protest, quickly trailing off when he abruptly punishes you for lying in the form of a sharp smack! against your tacky folds.

"what have i told you about telling me fibs, hmm?" he tuts, soothing the sting of the slap by rubbing the heel of his palm over your twitching skin. "you're making me look bad in front of satoru. and you don't want that, do you, sweet girl?"

"...no." you mutter meekly, feeling your body once again betray you by oozing more webby arousal onto his fingers at the mere thought that satoru is going to be watching this video later tonight.

suguru releases yet another rich laugh as he carefully scoops up some of your translucent juices with a finger, waving it around in front of the camera lens before sinking it into his mouth with a satisfied hmph. "i bet he's gonna wish he was here get a taste of you too. you know how much he loves sweet things."

"y-yeah?" you mumble breathlessly, hips weakly bucking up in search of some friction as his words sink straight down into the already coiling spool of pleasure buried in the depths of your stomach. "and would you let him?"

he taps the bottom of his chin in thought for a few moments, a cat-like smile spreading across his lips as he leans over you to whisper in your ear, hot breaths brushing against the hairs on the side of your neck. "only if he took it from my fingers... i wouldn't let him drink from the source — no, that's for me only."

a small mewl of pleasure escapes you at his words, and that's when his eyes flicker down to notice that you've sneakily managed to wriggle one of your wrists from his grip and ease one of your own fingers into your fluttering hole while he was speaking.

oh, you're in for it now.

suguru rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning both above your head this time before lowering his own between your writhing thighs and making direct eye contact with the camera from beneath his dark lashes. "now you're gonna see what happens when my girl misbehaves, satoru. hope you're strapped in for a bumpy ride."

TOJI FUSHIGURO

"c'mon, mama, i know y'can do a better arch for me than that," toji huffs impatiently as he delivers a sharp slap to your raised ass, making your entire body jolt with a mix of surprise and arousal. "don't ya wanna impress shiu, hmm?"

his words fly straight past your brain, shooting directly down to your stuffed cunt as you bend the front of your body even further down into the mattress, pushing your rear back against him with renewed vigour.

"ohhh, look at that," your boyfriend chortles amusedly, soothing the red handprint where he'd slapped with a gentle pat as a form of reward for your obedience. "looks like my girl is gettin' off on putting on a good ol' show for for my handler, huh? cute."

"shut up, toji," you mutter in response, voice slightly muffled by the material of the pillow as he continues to pound into you in full view of the phone propped up on the bedside table. "like you're not enjoying this too."

"heh. never said i wasn't, baby," he grunts from behind you, rough hands spreading the globes of your ass apart further to give the camera a better picture of the way his thick girth disappears inside of you with each thrust. "i like the idea of showin' him somethin' he can never have."

"you— mmph! — you wouldn't consider letting him join in?" you squeak out through the haze of pleasure he's put you in, hips halting their wriggles backwards as you unsurprisingly fail to keep up with his vicious pace.

"nah," toji hums casually, the only sign of him tiring out being the small tremor in his voice when he feels your spongy walls tighten around him in response to him hitting a particularly deep spot. "wouldn't be opposed to havin' him sit and watch us, though."

he can tell how much you support the idea by the way a gush of arousal drips out of you as soon as the words leave his mouth, dripping down his cock and splattering lewdly against his heavy balls.

"ohh, you like that, dont'cha?" he rumbles, reaching a large hand around to wrap around the front of your throat, giving it a light squeeze. "like thinkin' about shiu sat right next to the bed and jerkin' one out to the sight of me fuckin' you good, huhh?"

a wanton moan spills from your lips at this, pussy almost cutting off the blood circulation in his cock with how tightly it squeezes him when you cum. his darkened eyes flicker down, groaning when he sees the way your translucent juices spray the sheets beneath the two of you.

"hot damn, baby," toji growls, swiping up the phone from the bedside table and bringing it closer to film the mess you've caused where your bodies are connected. "ya see this shit, shiu? think we might have'ta organize a little cucking session some time soon, don't you?"

CHOSO KAMO

"s-so who are you planning on showing this to again?" choso utters sheepishly from his position splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and twitching cock standing to attention between his legs as you aim the phone in his direction.

"just yuki," you hum casually, peering over the top of the device and giving him a small, reassuring smile. "are you sure you're okay with this? because we can always stop if—"

"—no! i-i mean, no thank you," he squeaks hurriedly, shy chestnut eyes darting to the side in embarrassment as he registers just how eager he sounded. "i'm fine."

you release a soft laugh at his shyness, reaching down to cup one of his rosy cheeks in your free hand give it a teasing squeeze. "aww, is thinking about yuki seeing you like this making you all flustered, baby?"

choso lets out a quiet whine at how easily you read him, bare body squirming slightly against the mattress in response to your words. "i-it's just... sometimes she can be so mean. what if she makes fun of me for this?"

"oh, she won't," you purr seductively, trailing your fingers down from his cheek to his plump pectorals that rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes. "she'll be too busy... taking care of herself after watching this video."

his mouth falls open into a comical little 'o' shape at the mental image your implication alights in his mind, the flushed tip of his cock spurting out a trail of translucent pre-cum as a result. "she'll really be doing that because o-of me?"

"of course, pretty boy," you hum amusedly, giving one of his pebbled nipples a soft tweak with your thumb and forefinger and relishing in the little yelp the action earns you. "you have no idea how delicious you look right now, do you?"

choso shakes his head meekly, back arching off the bed as he needily pushes his chiselled torso into your touch. "n-no. but... can you tell me? how d-delicious i look?"

"mhmm," you coo softly, propping the phone up against one of his thick thighs so both of your hands are free to play with his quivering cock. "you look good enough to eat, cho. such an obedient boy, all laid out for me like this."

your boyfriend whimpers pathetically at your praise, messy tresses of dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat when you finally wrap a hand around his girthy base. "k-keep talking to me, pretty girl. please?"

"...and it's not just me who thinks you're perfect, either," you continue as you begin to stroke him languidly, other hand snaking down to gently fondle his heavy balls and making his legs tremble either side of you in response. "bet yuki's gonna be soaked just from watching this video."

"s-shit—! can't... gonna cum already," choso cries out, hips frantically bucking up into your fist like a teenager receiving his first handjob before his cock twitches violently beneath your hold, thick stripes of cum oozing from his reddened tip.

you quickly stop the recording so you can pull his shaky body into your arms, comforting him through the aftershocks of his intense orgasm as he buries his head into your clothed chest with a content mewl.

"...m-maybe we should do that more often." comes choso's soft, barely audible mumble as he peers up at you from between his messy bangs once a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed.

and oh, if that's how worked up a simple bit of filming is going to get him each time? you definitely agree.

KENTO NANAMI

"hopefully this video helps hiromi relax a little bit," nanami muses as he sets up the phone against the pillow next to your head, angling it so the lens of the camera has the perfect view of your sprawled out form waiting for him. "he's been ever so stressed lately."

"you're so considerate, ken," you hum affectionately as he settles himself between your legs, reaching up to caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "doing all of this for your friend."

"mmm," he hums warmly, leaning his angular face into your touch slightly as he places his large hands either side of your body. "and you're the perfect wife, agreeing to let me film such an intimate moment. i love you so much, honey, you know that?"

"i know," you respond with a gentle smile, eyes flickering down to watch as he aligns his leaky cock with your awaiting cunt. "i love you too, kento. always."

he returns your smile with a loving one of his own before slowly, with the utmost care, beginning to ease himself inside of you. he relishes in the way your arms fly to the back of his neck for support and your legs wind around his waist as each inch makes its way home — but most of all, the way the camera catches every moment as it happens.

the thought of hiromi watching this later and growing hard in his work slacks, paired with the heavenly feeling of bottoming out within the familiar coziness of your spongy walls, has nanami groaning in pleasure.

"you feel utterly divine, love," he whispers tenderly against the shell of your ear, quiet enough so the phone won't pick it up but loud enough that the words will send a shiver rippling down your spine. "taking me so well."

as the two of you move together in a well-practised dance of passion, nanami makes sure to cast his eyes towards the phone every now and again, picturing hiromi's dark eyes dilating with pleasure when he inevitably watches this video later tonight.

"close, sweetheart—" he rasps a few moments later, a few strands of blonde hair hanging over his glistening forehead as he returns his focus to you lying beneath him, holding himself up with one hand while the other reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his palm. "inside?"

"m-mhmm." is all you can manage to get out through your haze of pleasure, ankles digging into the muscles of his back to pull him in impossibly deeper as he twitches with need inside of you.

and when his heavy balls contract against your ass, thick cum spilling straight into your womb where his cockhead is buried, nanami can't help but wonder what hiromi will think when he sees his expression of bliss as he orgasms, head thrown back and jaw slack in ecstasy.

oh dear — he's starting to realize that just sending this video won't be enough... maybe he should invite hiromi into your bedroom next time so he can more efficiently help to remove the other man's stress.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[amaranthinespirit]

boyfriend!simon riley when you're mad at him

simon can easily tell when something's off with you.

he'd be clueless as to why you're giving him the cold shoulder, your lips sealed shut with closed off body language, arms crossed over your chest and a sour expression on your face.

although, on some occasions, it's easy for him to recognize what he'd done because let's be honest, simon riley has a habit of pissing off his lovie. just means it gives him a reason to make it up to you.

whether you're frowning, clanking things aggressively in the kitchen, his big hands would wrap around your waist, effortlessly dragging you to sit up on the counter, weaseling his way between your legs before you can shut him out. you can't shut him out, lovie.

a gasp escaping your lips involuntarily. his rough palms pressed your thighs, pushing your legs further apart of his lips traveled down your neck before skipping to your clothed cunt. his tongue pressed flat against the cotton, eyes fluttering shut for a mere second at the faint taste of you before peeling away your panties.

he didn't give you time to react, latching his lips around your sensitive clit, tongue teasing along your puffy folds. a low chuckle rumbling against your sopping pussy when your hands went to his short-cropped hair, tugging at the strands.

"still mad, baby? hmm?" his voice was dangerous; low and raspy, vibrating against your drooling cunt as he lazily lapped up your slick. a slight frown still on your face, and a small nod pulled his lips into a smirk. he knew what you were doing, lovie, you can't fool him.

"oh, are ya?" he'd hum, "can't 'ave tha' now."

or maybe you're on the couch, sulking as you stare at the blank tv screen. he'd press on your shoulder, pushing you to lie flat back on the cushions, keeping a warm, calloused hand pressed to your stomach.

burying his face in your damp cotton panties, crooked nose putting a teasing pressure on your little clit, the friction of the fabric sending a spark through your body.

he could spend hours between your legs, just lapping up the sweet slick that drools from your slit, teasing your pearl that easily becomes more and more sensitive, slipping in his thick fingers to coax your walls for his heavy cock later.

so go on, lovie, keep being mad at him, it just means he gets to make it up by burying his face in your sweet pussy.

[sierra-r-a-e]

you were the only one who could get the strongest sorcerer down on his knees like this. “please, princess. let me get just one taste of this pretty pussy~” he’d say, getting down onto his knees, his hands dragging along your sides as he goes.

once you finally agreed to let him taste the most private part of you, his face immediately lit up. satoru quickly got to work pushing, pulling, and tugging on whatever articles of clothing were standing in the way of his needy, watering mouth getting to your pussy.

he took a moment to admire your already glistening folds before he buried his face in your cunt. your hands immediately went to his hair, softly tugging on the silky strands in order to ground yourself from the immense pleasure.

you gently brushed the stray hairs out of his face, watching as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue delving deep into your hole before coming back up to circle your clit, sucking on the nub and letting go with a lewd ‘pop’.

he hiked your leg up over his shoulder in order to get a better angle. your hips automatically began to buck into him, making your clit bump against his nose oh so perfectly.

“that’s it, baby, ride my face just like that-” he says breathlessly before diving right back in to your sweetness.

you felt one of his long fingers circle your sopping entrance before gently pushing into you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. he created a rhythm with his tongue licking and sucking your clit, and his finger curling into your g spot. he soon added another finger, your knees nearly buckled from the amazing feeling.

overwhelmed with pleasure, your hands tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a low moan against your core. his cock was straining against his pants, desperately aching to be freed from its confines. though, he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was giving you the most jaw-dropping, toe-curling pleasure you’d ever experienced.

and that he did.

the way his tongue flicked against your sensitive nub sent small electric jolts throughout your body, not to mention the two fingers he had pumping in and out of you. all of the sensations he was giving you came together so amazingly, it was almost scary.

you clenched around his fingers as you neared your release, moaning his name as you practically humped his face. “that’s it, pretty girl, come on my face-” he said, his beautiful blue eyes watching your pleasured expressions as he ate and fingered your cunt.

your orgasm washed over you in harsh waves, nearly drowning you with the sudden, intense feelings of euphoria. your legs shook and you would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for satoru’s free arm holding you up securely.

he continued his ministrations on you, prolonging your orgasm. his tongue and fingers eventually slowed down to a stop, and his fingers gently pulled out of you, strings of slick still connecting him to you.

he made direct eye contact with you as he brought the two digits up to his mouth, engulfing them in the plush warmth and sucking the arousal off of them. he closed his pretty blue eyes with a groan at the taste of you, despite having just pressed his face against the source for a good while.

[nanaslutt]

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

toji “i’m not gay” fushiguro letting shiu fuck him (not in a gay way because he’s def not gay)

“fuuuuuck.” toji groans, digging his heels into the sheets where he has his knees bent. shiu’s hand around his cock is so tight, stroking him off steadily while he eats him out.

toji burries his hand in shius hair and grips the strands roughly, making shiu grunt against his ass. “fuck, so rough. this is how you say thank you for eating your ass?” he teases, kissing his thigh before sucking on his balls while teasing toji’s cockhead with his fingers.

toji sucks air in through his teeth, eyes fluttering. “don’t kiss me, and you know you like it.” he yanks on shius hair again, emphasizing his words when he grunts in pleasure, lips popping off of his balls.

“so i can burry my tongue here?” shiu says, sucking and licking against his hole, making toji buck against his face. shiu shakes his head back and forth, letting his tongue sloppily lick him down there, before he pulls back. “but i can’t kiss you?”

“it’s fucking weird, i’m not a woman.” toji grunts, slapping shius hand out of the way to jerk himself off when he goes too slow for his liking.

shiu smirks predatorily and climbs up the bed, taking his own cock in his hand while he slides himself between tojis legs. “no, you definitely aren’t.” he agrees, teasing tojis hole with the tip of his cock by rubbing it up at down.

toji bites his lip, jerking his dripping cock faster. “hurry up, don’t have all day.” he grunts, squeezing shius waist with his knees.

shiu presses the tip of his cock against his hole harder, teasing him to the tip before pulling back out. “what if i want to hear you beg?” shiu teases, nudging toji’s balls with his cock and making him groan.

“i’m not begging for your cock, i’m not gay.” toji grunts, reaching down to grip shuis thigh while undulating his hips up and down.

shiu smiles and drags his cock back to tojis asshole, finally giving him what he wants. toji groans long and low, gripping the base of his cock in an iron hold to prevent himself from cumming prematurely while he presses his lips together, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“my cock is in your ass, zenin.” shiu says, pulling out to give toji a shallow thrust. toji immediately grunts when he finds that sweet spot inside him right away.

“so?” he replies breathily, begining to stroke his cock when shiu starts pumping into him steadily.

shiu wraps his arms around tojis thick thighs, holding them to his chest before he starts to pick up the pace, balls slapping welty against tojis ass as he pounds his hole. “you said you’re not gay, but you let me put my cock in your ass.”

tojis eyes are rolling back in his head, and he grits his teeth, reaching up with one hand to pinch his sensitive nipple while stroking himself off. shiu pounds right against his prostate with each thrust, making his stomach heat. “shut the fuck up. fuck. shit, fuck that feels fucking good.”

shiu bites his lip before poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, leaning back to angle his hips upwards more. he’s rewarded by a loud grunt from toji when he pegs his prostate dead on. the slapping of his balls against tojis ass is so vulgar and aggressive, he loves it.

“feels good when a cock massages your prostate, huh?” shiu teases, watching toji act like a slut on his cock, pinching his nipples and tightening his hole like a pro.

“doesn’t- make me fucking gay, fuck!!” he borderline yells when shiu presses his legs down by his head, lifting his ass off the mattress as he starts pounding him deep.

“god, i’m in ur fucking stomach zenin. you like that doll? huh?”

his only response is tojis hand smacking against his lips to shut him up. shiu darts his tongue out and instantly is met with the taste of his salty cum. toji is still pinching his nipples, but he let his cock go to shut him up. now it’s bouncing freely against his stomach, so red and hard, almost ready to burst. shiu wants so badly to suck it down his throat and relieve his ache.

“give it to me harder, know you can do better than that, cmon.” toji grunts. shius balls throb when toji slaps his ass before digging his nails into the fat of it, still pinching his nipple so hard it looks borderline painful.

“your hole is so tight, zenin. you feelin it? cos im gonna cum.”

toji starts fucking him back harder, cock slapping well against his stomach, leaving a pool of pre on his abdomen. “you’re such a- one minute man, make me cum first. selfish- fucking-“ tojis mouth falls open in a silent moan when shiu stars pounding harder, deeper, faster.

tojis cock erupts, his balls pushing out his cum all over his torso as he orgasms handsfree. his seed shoots all over his chest, some even getting on his chin as he tips his head back and groans like his soul is leaving his body.

“oh yeah baby, fuuuck. milking my fucking cock. god you’re so sexy cumming without touching your dick. fuck!!” shiu isn’t far behind him. he presses his body weight down on toji and stills as he spills his seed inside his tight asshole, grunting when rope after rope fills him.

both men breath heavily come down from their orgasms. shius head is burried in tojis neck, and toji curses at him when shiu kisses his chest. pushing off of his body, still inside him, he teasingly thrusts his softening cock inside his ass. “think it’s gay to have an ass full of cum, zenin?”

[evie-sturns]

downstairs - Chris Sturniolo

summary: bestfriend!chris absolutely blowing your back out while his brothers are just downstairs.

contains: dom!chris, bsf!chris, roughhhh sex, degrading, fluff, overstimulation.

------------------------------------------------------------

9:12pm

it all happened so fast, one second you were sitting on the couch, with nick, matt and chris, all calmly watching a movie, the next he was texting you very suggestive messages.

'i need you'

'im so fucking hard under this blanket y/n.'

'you'd meet me upstairs wouldn't you?'

you didnt say no though, infact you were excited by this idea..

-

i clear my throat, "im just gonna start getting ready to go home, goodnight guys!" i lie straight through my teeth to matt and nick, grabbing my phone and rushing upstairs, giving chris the look over my shoulder.

my heart thumps wildly in my chest, the thought of having sex with chris just felt so wrong, but also insanely right,

i swing open chris's bedroom door, before the sound of chris's footsteps fill my ear.

he follows straight after me, entering his bedroom before shutting the door and twisting the lock.

he stares at me with a look in his eyes ive never seen before, he looks almost deseperate.

my eyes trail down to the very large tent in his sweatpants, i reach my hand out and drag my nails over it, causing chris to suck in a sharp gasp.

i hum, "who's this for?" i ask, but he instantly cuts me off. he presses his lips to mine, his hand finding its way to the back of my hair and tangling his fingers through the strands.

i jump up into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist as i moan softly into his mouth.

after a second he pulls away

"we really doin' this?" he asks as his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

i nod with a small hum, "no strings attached." i whisper.

a smirk grows on his face, "yeah? jus' wanna fuck your best friend for the fun of it, dont you?"

i nod happily, a smile growing on my face.

"naughty girl," he tuts.

he reaches for the hem of my shirt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side.

he reaches round a hand and unclasps my bra, with no struggle it instantly drops onto the floor.

my lips part, a small scoff leaving them. "how many times have you done that christopher." i laugh

"don't worry 'bout it." he grins, staring obviously at my bare chest.

“take it off.” he mumbles as he stares at my shorts.

i nod nervously tugging them down along with my panties, leaving me fully revealed in-front of him.

it’s somewhat humiliating, he is fully dressed and i’m just naked in front of him.

he smiles, reconnecting our lips and pressing my back up against the wall.

i pant heavily into his mouth as his knee slowly nudges my legs apart.

chris quickly breaks away from the kiss to pull off his shirt.

“please chris.” i mutter, my legs aching from how needy i am for him.

“please what?” he taunts,

“please fuck me..” i whisper,

he nods, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers, his fully hard erection springing out.

his tip is raw and pink, precum smeared all over it from how long he’s been hard in his boxers.

i stare down at it, “big..” i mumble, trying not to flatter him too much.

he hums, “bet you can’t wait to feel it in you, fuck.” he mumbles.

he picks me up again before throwing me down onto the matress. i land on my back with a small huff, chris looks down at me with hunger in his eyes.

“turn over.” he whispers, practically inaudible.

“huh?” i cock my head,

“turn. around.” his voice his deeper now, more commanding.

i nod flipping over onto my stomach.

he grabs my ankles, pulling me to the edge of the bed. i let out a small yelp as my body drags over the sheets

“hands and knees, c’mon.” chris mumbles,

i blush furiously as i get up on my hands and knees, my ass right infront of him.

“look at that.” he whispers,

he suddenly brings his hand down onto my ass, a loud slap. i yelp, a gasp leaving my lips.

he rubs over the red skin he just hit, before delivering another firm spank to me.

i let out a mix between a moan and a whine, the stinging prominent on my sensitive skin.

he delivers one last hard slap, the noise ringing out through the room.

“so fuckin’ hot, jesus.” chris breathes,

“you’ve done this before yeah?” he asks, rubbing the plush skin of my ass.

i nod, “yes yeah-“ i whisper.

“good, not gonna hold back on you, you know that right?” he asks,

i nod again, my arousal leaking out of my sensitive hole.

“gonna be nice and quiet for me aswell, nick and matt are downstairs, don’t want them to know you’re getting ruined in here.” chris warns,

“promise..” i whisper, arching my back in his face.

i feel his tip gently press at my hole, lining himself up.

“deep breath.” chris whispers, i comply, sucking in a deep breath.

suddenly, he slams his whole length into me.

all the air is knocked from my lungs as i let out a loud yelp, my eyes squeezing shut.

every last inch of him, slammed inside of me at once.

“chris- chris too much-“ i squeal, burying my face in the sheets.

“hm? don’t like me so deep?” he whispers,

i stay silent, i do, i do like him so deep.

he doesn’t waste time to instantly start thrusting fast, i moan loudly into the matress, clutching the fabric with my hands as i scream his name.

his tip slams against my cervix repeatedly, god it hurts, but in the best way possible.

chris is big, he’s stretching me out so much, not to mention the fact he’s also going crazy fast.

his hands reach down and slap across my ass,

“such a fuckin’ slut aren’t you? getting fucked absolutely dumb while my brothers are downstairs?” chris taunts, his voice low and gruff.

i let out a needy noise in response,

“bet you want them to hear, don’t ‘cha. want them to hear how good i’m making you feel.” he speaks, delivering another firm smack to my ass

i can feel his dick in my actual stomach, i don’t think anything has ever been this deep inside of me.

chris’s long hands drag down my back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.

i can feel the chain on his wrist dragging against my flushed skin,

“chris- chris please- please slow down.” i wail, completely unfocused on trying to stay quiet.

“shut up, take it, you know you can.” he instantly snaps back, earning a loud groan from me

his hips repeatedly crash into mine, my cheek is pressed against the blankets on the bed as drool leaks out of my mouth.

he reaches his hand down into my hair, tugging on the strands and twisting it into a makeshift ponytail.

he tugs on this ‘ponytail’ he’s made, lifting my face from the blankets,

my moans are no longer muffled by the fabric,

he pulls slightly harder on my hair, gripping low down so it doesn’t actually hurt me, which is ironic considering the fact he won’t slow down. i’m not complaining though.

my back arches even harder, my eyes welling with tears at the unimaginable pleasure.

i hear him let out a low chuckle from behind me, “are you seriously fucking drooling?”

my cheeks flush red as i reach a shaking hand up to my mouth, wiping it quickly before instantly slamming it back down onto the matress, trying to keep myself up.

“chrisss…” i whine loudly,

“shh, sh.” he shushes me,

he suddenly lets go of my hair, letting my face fall foward into the sheets again.

i can finally let out more lewd noises with my face smushes into the blankets.

“i’m so close- please please..” i cry out,

he suddenly pulls out, my stomach instantly feeling empty and my hole fluttering around nothing.

“chris!!” i cry out again, making him laugh.

he is just so mean.

“turn over.” he speaks firmly, his voice very subtly shaking.

i roll over, my whole body aching, desperate for release.

“good girl, you’re so good at listening to me aren’t ‘ya?” he praises, he pulls me closer to the edge of the bed again,

i nod with a stupid grin, my mine completely blank.

he lines himself back up with me and i mentally prepare myself for what’s coming.

he slams back into me, the familiar feeling of him inside of me instantly soothing the ache in my pussy.

this time is different though, i can see him, and it hits me that this is the chris sturniolo who is fucking me right now, my own best friend.

i stare up at him, my eyes now narrow slits.

he reaches down and grips my breasts, his fingers twisting at my nipples,

he pinches them, causing me to clench around him as i let out a loud whine.

“didn’t i tell you to be quiet? what happened to you being good at listening?” he coos,

“i- sorry- ‘m sorry-“ i exclaim, tipping my head back.

i purse my lips together, trying to hold in my noises.

at this point there’s no hope of chris’s brothers not hearing me, it’s quite embarrassing actually, but it’s hot, so hot.

i exhale shakily, before another loud moan of chris’s name rips out of me.

chris suddenly clamps his hand down onto my mouth, “i told you to be quiet.”

i whine against his hand, my walls clenching down around him.

tears prickle in my eyes, dripping down my face into his hand as the pleasure gets too much.

i feel my orgasm crash down on me, my back arching off the bed as i squeeze my eyes shut.

“look at me, look at me.” he repeats himself, and midway through my orgasm i find the strength to open my eyes and stare into his.

a grin forms on his face, “so hot, so fucking good,”

his thrusts don’t stop though, if anything they pick up…

i feel my whole body on fire, my sensitive walls still being pounded into by chris.

tears roll down my cheeks, not tears of sadness, not at all. tears of pure ecstasy.

i groan against his hand, clamping my thighs together.

he instantly pushes my thighs back apart, “take it.” he mutters.

i see his head tip back as he gets close as well,

my mascara is now smudged against my face, chris’s hand still plastered onto my mouth to muffle my noises.

“fuuuck..” chris breathes,

after a few more thrusts he abruptly pulls out,

he strokes himself once more before finishing.

streaks of white paint my tummy, chris lets out a low whimper before falling down onto the matress beside me.

he pants heavily, i just lay still, my legs shaking as i try to catch my breath.

i have no thoughts in my brain, just pleasure.

“you okay?..” chris speaks up,

“i- i’m- i’m- woah.” i whisper, not even being able to form a coherent sentence.

“you’re woah?” chris grins,

i giggle in response, my whole body feeling like it’s on fire.

“really got fucked dumb on your best friends cock, that’s naughty.” he tuts,

i whine, “shut up..”

he chuckles, “i’m just messing with you sweetie.” he whispers, pulling me onto his chest.

i lay my full body weight on him, his arms wrap around me.

“you were so good you know that?” he whispers,

i nod, burying my face in his neck.

“let’s get you cleaned up alright? youre gonna sleep here instead of going home.” chris whispers, stroking my back.

he gently stands up, i’m still wrapped around him like a koala.

he takes me into his bathroom as he pulls on a pair of his sweatpants before sitting me down on the toilet as he prepares a wet rag.

“go pee yeah?” he speaks softly, it’s hard to believe he was degrading me 10 minutes ago.

i nod, following his instructions.

after i finish up chris picks me up, sitting me down on the counter.

i sit still, spreading my legs slightly as he gently cleans me up with the rag.

“wash your hands, you don’t wanna be dirty.” he grins,

“chris-! i haven’t even touched a single thing in here.” i laugh,

“i’m messsing with youuu.” he laughs back,

i roll my eyes as he finishes cleaning me up.

he picks me back up, walking me over to the bedroom as he sits me on the edge of the bed.

he dresses me up in his own clothes, his oversized shirt and sweatpants.

“you don’t want a shower or anything? i can run you one?” he asks,

“wait- can i go grab some water i’m so thirsty.” i complain, chris nods,

“yeah i’ll help ‘ya walk down there.” he says softly, helping me out of bed.

“i can walk!” i protest,

“can you now?” he giggles,

i nod stubbornly, walking very shakily down the stairs,

“you’re sort of like a baby giraffe.” he points out,

“aw thanks chris.” i roll my eyes, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

i look to my left and see matt and nick sitting on the couch.

they stare at me and chris with pure disgust,

“you two are ACTUALLY disgusting i hope you know that, never do that in my house AGAIN.” nick speaks up.

my cheeks flush a deep maroon as i turn around to look at chris.

he looks equally as embarrassed.

the silence is loud, before chris interrupts it with a small snort.

me and chris suddenly both burst into uncontrollable giggles, laughing stupidly at each other in the almost silent house.

-

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