#flip up cabinets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sturnioz · 12 days ago

Text

‘SEVEN DAYS’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader. genre. established relationship au, smut.

word count. 16.6k.

❝you can handle me for seven days.��

content warnings. crack humour involved, crude jokes, explicit content, multiple sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, backshots, riding, car sex, kitchen sex, anal, dirty talk, heavy petting, creampies, hair pulling, squirting, spanking, | nicknames like 'baby', 'babe', 'ma', and 'mama' are used throughout.

# ( PROLOGUE )

“What are you doing?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you step into the room, your gaze immediately landing on Chris, who's seated at the kitchen table.

He's hunched over, chunky headphones covering his ears, a rainbow of coloured pens scattered around him—some uncapped and rolling close to the edge of the table as his hand moves quickly, scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

Strands of curly hair have fallen into his face, concealing most of his expression, but even without seeing his eyes, you know that look—the one where he's so lost in focus that the rest of the world doesn't even exist to him right now.

Turning your head, you spot Nick and Matt in the living-room. Matt is sprawled across the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably while his thumb idly scrolls through his phone. Nick sits on the other end, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a bowl of popcorn balancing in his lap, his attention fixed on the tv screen.

You glance back at Chris, still oblivious, deciding to try a different approach as you shift your gaze back to the boys.

"What is he doing?"

“I have no idea. He won’t tell us, and honestly? I don’t give a fuck,” Nick responds without looking away from the screen, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth before continuing. “But we actually have some peace and fucking quiet for once, let’s not bother him—please.”

With a crease in your forehead, you cross the room to approach the kitchen table, setting your bag down on the edge with a soft thud, hoping the sound will draw Chris attention.

It doesn't.

Instead, the noise seems to have caught Nick and Matt’s attention as their heads abruptly snap in your direction almost in unison.

Matt's gaze narrows in irritation, his brows furrowing slightly as he shoots you an unimpressed look. Nick, on the other hand, raises a finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing motion, and you retaliate by flipping him off, ignoring his dramatic response of wide eyes and placing his hand on his chest as if you brutally offended him.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you fill it with water, glancing over at Chris as you take a sip, hoping to catch even the slightest bit of acknowledgement, but he remains blissfully unaware. His head still bent low, hand darting across the paper in quick scribbles.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you abandon your efforts and decide to join the others, allowing Nick to tug your arm and pull you down beside him. The sudden movement sends your glass wobbling, but you manage to keep a firm grip before any water spills.

Nick throws a blanket over the two of you and nestles against your side, barely giving you any time to adjust before he shoves the popcorn bowl into your lap, offering you some.

You reach into the bowl and grab a handful, savouring the buttery, sweet taste that melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze flicking to the TV where a heated argument is happening between the couple on the screen.

“She needs to dump him immediately,” Nick scoffs, gesturing towards the screen with a dramatic wave of his hand. “If someone ever talked to me like that, I’m karate chopping their head off their fucking neck.”

“She actually spoke to him like that first, though,” Matt murmurs from your right without looking up from his phone, his thumb still scrolling as he speaks. “She said somethin’ about his personality — like it was borin' or whatever.”

Nick slowly turns his head to look at Matt, blinking comically. “And I thought you said you weren’t interested in watching this show?”

Matt finally lifts his head, his eyes narrowing as he shoots Nick a flat look. “Kid, you got the fuckin’ volume on eighty or some shit.”

“Excuses, excuses… blah, blah, blah—”

Matt cuts him off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Real fuckin’ mature, kid.”

Nick leans back against you comfortably, unbothered with the fact he's pissing Matt off. “Blah, blah, blah—”

The bickering continues back and forth for a while, their voices overlapping with each other, and you shake your head, taking another sip of water as you watch them both—but before Matt can fire another response back, a new voice breaks through the conversations.

“I didn’t know you were here…” The unexpected interruption pulls your attention away, and you glance over your shoulder to see Chris rising from his seat at the kitchen table, his movements slow as he pulls off his headphones and sets them down with a quiet clink before he makes his way toward you with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Without another word, Chris slides into the gap between you and Matt, squeezing himself beneath the blanket that covers you and Nick—his lanky limbs awkwardly tangling with yours as he settles in, and he wraps himself around you tightly.

He buries his face in the crevice of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales deeply, his body melting into yours.

Nick huffs loudly, shifting away as Chris’ hand accidentally brushes against his head, and he lets out a dramatic groan as he sits up straight. His head had been resting comfortably on your shoulder just moments ago, but with Chris now firmly in place, he’s been forced away.

Chris doesn’t pay Nick the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he presses a series of soft, feather-light kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you find yourself smiling as his arms tighten securely around your waist.

Matt glances over, his brow lifting in curiosity. “What were you doin’ over there?” he asks, nodding toward the cluttered kitchen table. When Chris doesn’t respond, Matt’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “Alright, cool, I’ll just go fuck myself then.”

Chris barely lifts his head, his voice muffled against your neck. “None of your business anyway.”

Matt lets out a scoff and rises from the couch, announcing that he’s heading to his room for the rest of the night, and he throws a glance at Nick who’s already tossing the blanket off his lap, seemingly doing the same thing.

Nick stands up and stretches lazily, his shirt riding up slightly. “Yeah, I’m out too. I’m not gonna sit here and be third-wheeled, thank you very much.”

With that, Matt disappears down the hallway to his room, and Nick heads upstairs to his, leaving you and Chris alone in the living-room.

Chris finally lifts his head from your neck once the quiet settles in, and his fingers touch your cheek as he gently turns your face toward his. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he draws you closer, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, tender kiss.

You respond almost immediately, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer. Chris tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his lips part against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as the kiss becomes slower—more intimate.

You both stay like that for a while, the soft sounds of your kissing blending in with the TV in the background along with the blanket that rustles in your laps. Eventually, you pull back, your chest rising and falling steadily as you catch your breath, and Chris presses on last chaste kiss to your lips.

"What were you doing earlier?" you ask curiously, hoping to get a response from him this time.

Chris grins as he tugs you up from the couch, and he leads you back to the kitchen table, where his pens are paper are still scattered across the messy surface. The sheet of paper he'd been scribbling on earlier sits in the centre, and he slides it toward you, turning it so you can see clearly. Your eyes flit over the page, taking in the messy but colourful layout.

The title, 'SEVEN DAYS' is scrawled across the top in bold letters, with scribbled notes and doodles through money to sunday in small boxes.

Your eyebrows knit together as your finger traces the title, "You made a calendar?"

Chris shifts closer to you, his arm draping casually over your shoulder. "It's a little somethin' we're gonna be doing for the week."

The corner of your lips lift in a pleasant surprise. "You planned dates for us?"

Chris shakes his head, his grin turning mischievous. "Not exactly."

Before you can press him for more details, he pulls out his phone, unlocking it quickly with a swipe of his thumb. He angles the screen toward you, showing a video of a couple dedicating a challenge to a popular song.

At first, you don't noticing anything unusual about the video, until the lyrics of the song becomes clearer, and the activities written on that couple's calendar comes up which makes your eyes widen and mouth part in shock.

"You... made a sex calendar?!"

"Hey, hey—easy..." Chris shushes, using the hand draped over your shoulder to clap it over your mouth. "You wanna say that shit louder next time?"

You glare at him, your expression deadpan, your lips still pressed against his palm. Chris holds your gaze for a moment before his grin starts to creep back, and he taps your mouth lightly with his fingers, as if to tease you, before finally lowering his hand.

"It sounds crazy, I know—" he says, holding his hands up defensively as you continue to stare at him in disbelief. "But c'mon... you're not a little bit interested?"

"You're crazy," you murmur, stepping away from him to take another look at the calendar he's created, staring at the spaces that are still blank, left for the two of you to fill in. "There's, like, no way we can actually do this for seven days."

Chris hums softly, and you feel the warmth of his best pressing against your back as his hands rub your shoulders, his fingers finding the spots where your neck meets your shoulders, gently kneading the area in slow, deliberate circles as he leans in close to your ear.

"You know you can handle me for seven days."

# ( MONDAY, DAY ONE )

Your eyebrows knit together in your half-asleep state, a tired noise emitting from you as you feel a weight nestled between your legs—gentle hands prying your thighs apart. You exhale deeply and shift in bed, trying to turn onto your side but a breathy gasp escapes past your lips when you feel warm air blowing against your clit.

You stir awake, vision blurred and lashes sticky with sleep as you weakly push yourself up on your elbows, gaze falling down to a mess of curly hair between your thighs. You squirm when you feel the similar warm air blowing again, but Chris’ hands hold your hips to the bed, forcing you to remain still as he glances up at you.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to get up,” Chris hums against the skin of your thigh where he presses gentle kisses, his eyes locked on yours. His lips curl into a smirk once he pulls away, “Why you starin’ at me like that?”

“Just… wondering what you’re doing.”

Chris clicks his tongue against his teeth as he tuts, shaking his head as his grip tightens on your hips. “Don’t tell me you forgot already… it begins today—seven days, remember?”

You breathe out, “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”

“I’m serious about everythin’ we do,” Chris drawls. He shifts between your legs, his hands moving from your hips to lock around your thighs. “Get comfortable f’me, baby. I want breakfast in bed to start off m’day.”

You snort, wanting to respond but you are lost for words when he presses his mouth to your pussy, licking a wet stripe through your folds before stopping to toy with your clit, swirling the wet muscle around it.

You moan quietly as your body slumps back against the mattress, your fingers tangling through his hair. His tongue dips down to your entrance, prodding teasingly at your hole and he pushes the tip inside, eliciting a louder noise from you.

His eyes flit up to you, a warning look in them to be quiet and you nod your head, sinking your teeth into your lower lip to conceal your noises as your grip tightens in his hair, moving your lower half in an attempt to grind against his face.

You can feel Chris’ smirk against you, his tongue pushing through your hole and wiggling as his hand comes down to thumb at your clit, and your legs quiver, getting closer to your orgasm much faster than planned.

Fingers twist in Chris’ hair as your back arches against the bed, your head thrown in pleasure—but you let out a choked cry when you feel his mouth let up from your pussy. His hand slides up the length of your body, pushing your chest down before a firm hand grips your chin, forcing you to look down at him.

He moves his mouth back down, lips suctioning around your clit and a suppressed cry leaves your lips, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your eyes close from pleasure, but with Chris’ grip on your chin, he shakes your head to get your attention.

“Eyes open,” He orders, words muffled. “Keep ‘em open f’me—I know you can do it.”

You nod your head, keeping your eyes open to watch Chris go back down, his tongue lapping the length of your pussy and you bite down harder on your bottom lip, your fingers gripping his hair tightly.

He eats you out as if he’s starved all while his gaze is locked on you, making sure your own eyes remain open. With the hand that’s not gripping your chin, he’s pinning you to the bed when your hips twitch, groaning against your cunt, and the vibrations cause you to let go of your lip as your mouth drops open, panting heavily.

The sounds from between your legs are disgusting; your gushing pussy, his tongue lapping you up through heavy grunts and moans, and one specific flick of his tongue sends you over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Chris continues licking you through your high, loosening his grip on your chin to slide his hand down to your stomach, stroking the skin to soothe your heavy breathing, only stopping when you tug at his hair from the oversensitivity.

He’s grinning as he crawls up your body, slotting himself between your legs and pressing his lips to yours, and you immediately taste yourself on his tongue when it slides into your mouth, causing you to moan softly as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Chris parts away to glance down between your bodies, his breathing laboured as he fists his cock—freed from his plaid pants a while ago, and he rubs the head through your soaked folds, tapping the tip against your clit before his head raises up to meet your gaze.

“You good?” He asks, and you nod your head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Alright, just—just keep quiet f’me.”

With another nod of your head, Chris pushes his hips forward, sinking into your warmth.

You gasp in his ears, letting go of the curls at his nape to grab his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as his cock stretches out your walls, filling you up. He shoves his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting in and out of your pussy slowly.

He feels good—too good to keep quiet and you press your mouth to his shoulder, muffling your moans as your walls squeeze around him, suctioning him in deep which causes his chest to vibrate with a groan.

“That’s it—fuck,” Chris mumbles in your ear. “Keep squeezin’ me in like that, baby.”

You follow through with his request and your walls clamp around his cock, causing Chris to fuck you harder against the bed. He raises his head, wetting his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth as he stares down at you, the headboard rocking against the wall with each deep thrust.

He reaches his hand up to press his palm against it, holding it to the wall to prevent any more noise. You would’ve been delighted if it wasn’t for his cock rubbing against your inner walls, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, the band in your stomach tightening with each thrust of his hips.

The pleasure builds between your legs and you struggle to hold it back, your teeth immediately sinking into Chris’ shoulder to conceal your noise as you cum, your cunt clamping around him and drawing him towards his own orgasm.

“Shiiit,” He grunts in the crevice of your neck, coating your insides with cum, filling you up.

His thrusts are slower—steady movements that have his lower half rubbing over your clit, making your spine tingle and toes curl in bliss. Soon, he comes to a stop and rests his body weight on top of yours, pressing light, feathery kisses to your sweaty skin as the both of you try to catch your breath.

When Chris finally moves to pull out of you, he sits up on his knees, head ducked to watch his cum leaking out of you with a grin, and his eyes flit up to yours with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows which results in you kicking him weakly in his side.

“Okay, okay,” Chris laughs, grabbing your ankle to stop you. His thumb strokes across your skin as he murmurs, “Y’know… I think I'll be down for more than seven days if I can see this view all the time.”

“Seven days is more than enough,” You giggle as you push yourself up on your elbows, squirming slightly when you feel his cum drip. “You can barely last three anyways.”

“Wha—ow,” Chris frowns, offended. His eyebrows knit together as he glances down at his cock that's softening against his thigh, “You really think lil’ Chris will be all worn out by Wednesday?”

Your amusement immediately washes from your face as you stare at Chris with a deadpan expression, “Don’t ever call it that again.” Chris opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head quickly. “No—no. Just help me to the bathroom so I can pee and have a shower.”

Chris takes his hand in yours as he slides off of the bed, pulling you up with him. His arm slides around your middle, helping you waddle to the bathroom and he flips on the light switch. You sit down to relieve yourself as Chris turns on the shower, his hand outstretched as he feels the temperature of the running water.

Chris takes a breath when he turns to you, “But d’you really—”

“Chris.”

# ( TUESDAY, DAY TWO )

Setting up one of Tara Yummy's infamous parties on a Tuesday evening wasn't exactly on your to-do list for the week. But when your best friend called you up, her voice filled with excitement and a hint of desperation, you couldn't say no.

You'd promise her once—probably more times than you could count—that you'd always be a helping hand when she needed it. And Tara? She always needed it.

Two hours of frantic shopping, hanging up decorations, blowing up an army of inflatables for the pool, and preparing far too many jello shots later, you find yourself standing in the middle of Tara's room, finally able to breathe.

You turn toward the mirror, fingers tying the strings of your red bikini top around your neck as you take a moment to analyse your reflection. You make sure everything is in place—secure and snug to be risk-free of any wardrobe malfunctions.

You twist your body to the side, checking the fit from a different angle as you fix your shorts until they sit just right on your hips.

"You look hot," Tara says from her spot at the vanity, her gaze flicking to you through the mirror. She's holding an eyeliner pen steady in one hand as she purses her lips, leaning closer to check her reflection. "Do you think we bought enough alcohol?"

You scoff lightly, adjusting the dainty necklace around your neck. The charm—a small, delicate 'C'—rests against your collarbones as you secure the clasp. "Yes, Tara. The price on the receipts proves it. Also, Jake and Johnny said they're bringing in a few more boxes when they arrive."

Tara perks up at that, her brows lifting in surprise. "They did?"

"They texted in the groupchat earlier."

Tara spins in her chair, snatching her phone off the vanity with one hand while the other swipes at the screen. Her perfectly glossed lips twist into a small pout as she scrolls through the endless flood of messages in your groupchat, and after a moment, she makes a small noise of acknowledgement, her nails tapping rapidly across the screen as she types out a response.

A second later, your own phone pings from its spot in your bag. You glance at it briefly but don't bother picking it up, already knowing it's something Tara had replied to the others.

"Anyways," Tara hums, setting her phone down to finish the last touches of her eyeliner. "Run me back through what you were saying earlier—about this calendar stuff."

"Chris found this challenge on TikTok called 'Seven Days' or something like that," you begin to explain to her. "It's basically where you have sex for seven days straight, and he decided to make a whole calendar for it."

"That's so crazy to me," she snorts, her dark eyes wide with amusement. "Also, I'm, like really surprised it was him who suggested it. That seems way more like a you thing."

The corner of your lips twitches, fighting back a smile. "You'd be surprised."

"And this all started yesterday?" she asks, one brow arching inquisitively, and you nod your head to confirm. "Okay, wait, so... did you do anything today?"

"No, because someone—" you pause, shooting her a pointed look that makes her grin innocently. "—dragged me out of the house at 10 o'clock this morning for breakfast, and a two-hour shopping trip for her party."

Tara snorts unapologetically, before she straightens up. "Wait. Does that mean Chris is going to show up here all cranky and sexually frustrated?" Her eyes widen dramatically as her hands fly to her temples, rubbing hard. "Please tell me he's not going to ruin the vibe. I can't handle moody people at my party—it stresses me out. Not good for my energy."

You shrug your shoulders with a teasing smile, refusing to get her an answer. Tara lets out a drawn out groan, throwing her head back like she's just been dealt with something awful, and the exaggerated action makes you cackle.

Once the laughter fades, you both turn back to the mirror, putting the final touches on your outfits and ensuring your makeup is perfect. Once feeling ready, the two of you click together a pair of shot glasses filled with tequila to kickstart the night, and you welcome the familiar burn that slips down the back of your throat.

It doesn’t take long before the guests to start arriving in groups, and you and Tara head downstairs to the lively party area, greeting her guests and mutual friends with warm smiles and compliments on their beach-inspired outfits before you move through the crowd, scanning faces for one in particular.

But before you can find him, you're momentarily caught up in conversations. Familiar faces stop you to chat, and a few strangers introduce themselves, exchanging names and socials with you. You lose track of time as the party buzzes around you: drinks are flowing, music is thumping, and some are screaming over party games.

It's only when you glance toward the far end of the kitchen that you finally spot him. Chris stands there with Nick and Matt, his signature red cap perched backward on his head, and a grin plays on his lips as he listens to whatever Nick is saying.

Your chest tightens with excitement, and a wide smile spreads across your face as you bound over to him.

Chris notices you immediately, his eyes lightening up as you approach. He licks his lips, adjusting the brim of his cap before leaning toward you. His arm slides around your waist, his palm resting at the small of your back as he pulls you into his chest.

Slotting his lips against yours, warm and firm, he kisses you deeply for a few moments. Then, with a grin tugging at his mouth, he trails a series of playful smooches along your cheek and down your jawline, hearing him chuckle against your skin as you giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Alright, enough,” Nick interjects beside you both, nursing a red solo cup in one hand while using the other to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s already nauseating seeing so many people all up on each other… I do not need to see you two doing it too.”

“Shut up, Nick,” Chris huffs as he pulls his face away from you, giving his brother a hard but playful glare before turning his attention back to you. His hand stays on your lower back, his thumb stroking your skin softly in a soothing motion. “You look good, baby.”

"Thank you," you say with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss Chris briefly. As you pull back, you can't help but snort at the lipstick mark left on his lips, using your thumb to wipe it away while his fingers absentmindedly toy with the necklace around your neck, fixing the charm.

"Are you drunk already?" Matt's voice cuts through the music, his gaze fixed on you as he squints like he's trying to figure out if you're drunk or sober.

"I had four shots, asshole," you retort, shooting him a playful look. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm the driver, kid—use your brain," Matt teases, holding up a soda can in one hand and jingling his car keys in the other as if to drive his point home. You immediately flip him off, making him laugh as he takes a slow sip from his drink.

The rest of the night flows seemingly well, and you stick with the triplets for most of the party, occasionally slipping away to mingle with others alongside Tara, who keeps a tight grip on your hand and a drunken smile on her face. You both catch up with friends, dance to the music, hand out jello shots, and throw inflatables into the pool for others to grab.

You are having fun, but every so often your gaze drifts toward Chris, who is in the middle of a heated beer pong game with Matt and a few other guests. He catches you staring, flashing you a grin and a wink that makes your chest flutter.

You watch as he lines up his next shot with confidence, his arm steady as he tosses the ping pong ball that lands perfectly int he cup, and the kitchen erupts into cheers. Chris throws his arms in the air in celebration, laughing hysterically as Matt tackles him in a tight hug, the two stumbling slightly.

Nick, standing off to the side filming the entire thing, looks utterly stunned—his jaw hanging open in a mix of shock and impressiveness.

You decide to head over to congratulate Chris and re-join them, but before you can take a step, a hand grips your arm and tugs you back into place.

"Where are you going?" Tara slurs as she stares at you with wide, glassy eyes. Her flushed cheeks and unsteady stance make it clear she'd had more than a few drinks, especially with the grip she has on your arm. "Join me in the pool!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm not going in the pool. I'm gonna go see Chris."

Tara pouts dramatically, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. "You're no fun. Party pooper," she sighs before scrunching her nose and grinning at you mischievously. "You're totally gonna go hook-up, aren't you?"

Your eyes widen at the volume of her voice, and you laugh again as you try to hush her. "Tara—"

"Yeah, yeah, whateverrrr," she interrupts with a dismissive wave, smacking your arm lightly. "Go have fun—but my room is off-limits. Use one of the upstairs bathrooms, nobody's allowed up there anyway."

"Tara—"

"Shhhhhh," she drawls, pressing her finger to your lips to silence you. You stifle a laugh, but remain quiet for her to speak. "Go complete date two... and don't forget to tell me all the juicy details later. I'm so serious."

Shaking your head, you smile despite yourself and give her a quick hug, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving her—but you know Tara is more than capable of keeping herself entertained.

Turning back toward the kitchen, you weave your way through the crowd until you reach Chris, and he lifts his head as you approach, his grin widening when he sees you. His arm is draped casually over the edge of the ping pong table, but his focus shifts entirely to you as you slide into his side.

His arm curls around your shoulders automatically, his fingers brushing against your skin as they toy with the strap of your bikini. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath is warm against your skin, and the small gesture fills you with a sense of calm and comfort.

"You good?" he asks, his voice low and quiet as he murmurs in your ear.

You hum in response, leaning up to bring your lips close to his ear instead as you whisper your request for him to follow you upstairs. His gaze sharpens slightly, and he nods without hesitation, keeping his arm securely around you as the two of you move toward the stairs.

Tara’s makeshift ‘NO ACCESS’ sign dangles loosely from the railing, and you peel it away with a smirk before leading Chris up to the second floor. The noise from the party fades slightly as you slip down the hallway and make a beeline for the bathroom at the far end.

The air feels cooler here, quieter, and as soon as you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you. You fumble for the lock, but before you can secure it, Chris' lips meet yours with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

His hands find your hips, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss and you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back.

Chris grins against your lips as he feels you tug at his hair, and he squeezes your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding across your lower lip. You part your lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing you against the cold bathroom counter as his hands slide down to your ass, giving it a playful slap.

Chris bites down gently on your bottom lip, tugging it with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch in your throat.

His chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as he kisses you again, his tone low as he utters, “Turn around f’me.”

You obey, turning around, laying your palms flat against the countertop as you meet Chris’ eyes in the reflection of the mirror, feeling hot under his gaze. He trails kisses across your shoulder blades, his hands coming around to caress your stomach before moving down to the waistband of your shorts, popping open the buttons and dragging the material down your legs along with your bikini bottoms.

Chris fumbles with the belt on his own pants next, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he frees himself, his fingers gripping his cock and giving a few lazily tugs before tapping the head to your puffy folds. You hum softly, leaning your forearms on the countertop, arching your back and pressing your ass against him, coaxing him to thrust inside already.

“Need you to relax f’me…” Chris murmurs softly, one hand massaging your hip as the other still holds his cock, positioning himself. “Just relax n’ take it, yeah?”

You don’t even have time to respond properly, only a quiet whine seeping past your lips as Chris pushes his hips forward. Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp at the stretch, unable to stop your legs from trembling as Chris continues to ease his cock inside your warmth.

“Shiiiiit, ma…” Chris hisses through his teeth once your ass is pressed to his hips—skin against skin. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, bending you further over the countertop and locking you in place as he drives his cock inside of you at a speed you struggle to comprehend—your head dropping forwards with incoherent sounds spilling for your lips as he fucks you.

Chris moans each time he pounds into you, and you involuntarily squeeze your walls around him when his cock probes the spot deep within, toes curling in your shoes. He meets your gaze in the mirror and your mouth hangs open, wheezing short and quick breaths, unable to keep your eyes on him as they roll to the back of your head.

“Hey—hey… c’mere..” His hands remove their grip from your arms to wrap around your middle instead, pulling your back to his chest to keep you upright.

Your head slumps back on his shoulder, your fucked out expression sending a shiver down his spine.

“Look at you, ma. All fucked out on my cock… your pretty pussy can’t get enough of me, yeah? Want me that bad? Ha… look at you, mama, you’re droolin’.”

He continues to whisper nothing but filth in your ear as his hips thrust at a brutal pace; the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, completely overtaking his hoarse moans and your pathetic whines.

You’re already cumming before you even recognise it, a choked moan leaving your lips as the coil in your stomach snaps, and your core clamps down on his cock as your high hits you with an intense force. Chris fucks you through it, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek while filling your insides with his own cum.

“You’re good, baby… you’re good,” Chris praises quietly as his motions begin to slow before coming to a stop, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he gently kisses your shoulders and neck this time—helping your shaking body come down from its intense high.

You wince when Chris carefully pulls out of you, but you’re more than pleased when he turns you around, propping you against the counter and wiping the mess between your legs with gentle caresses. He throws the tissues into the toilet and helps pull your bikini bottoms and shorts up your legs, fastening the button with a smile on his lips.

“Fuckin’ in Tara’s bathroom was not on the calendar, but m’not mad about it,” He murmurs, his gaze flitting up to meet yours as he fixes your necklace. “She’s gonna be super fuckin’ pissed when she realises that some of m’kids are—Ow… really?”

# ( WEDNESDAY, DAY THREE )

Your eyebrows knit together as you stare down at the calendar resting on your lap, the faint rustling of paper breaking the silence. The Wednesday section catches your eye, where 'you can pick' is scrawled across the square in Chris' messy handwriting.

Your thumb lingers near your mouth, teeth grazing your nails as you bite down in deep concentration. Pursing your lips, you push yourself off the bed, the calendar in hand as you make your way out of Chris' bedroom. The soft padding of your bare feet against the flooring is the only sound as you climb the stairs toward the kitchen area.

The house feels oddly still, eerily quiet.

Matt and Nick had left earlier, their voices echoing through the halls as they shouted quick goodbyes, and you’d heard the slam of the garage door and the low rumble of the car as it started up, fading into the distance.

Now, it’s just you and Chris. Alone.

As you reach the kitchen, you spot him standing by the table, holding a can of pepsi in one hand while his other hand is occupied with his phone, scrolling through messages.

His brow is furrowed in that familiar look of focus, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Hey…" you call softly, your voice breaking the stillness in the room.

Chris looks up from his phone, and his expression softens almost instantly as a small smile tugs at his lips, watching you approach.

You hold up the calendar, pointing to the scribbled words with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean, ‘I can pick’?" Chris blinks, his gaze shifting from the calendar to your face, amusement flicking in his eyes as he replies, "It means you can pick."

You scoff lightly, giving him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest. "Didn't I technically pick yesterday? I'm the one who wanted to hook-up in the bathroom at Tara's house party."

"Sure," he concedes with a hum, a sly grin creeping across his face in a way that makes your stomach flip. "But, y'know... I was the one bendin' you over the bathroom counter and—"

"Okay!" you cut him off quickly, biting down on the inner skin of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

Chris chuckles, clearly pleased with your reaction, and he sets his phone and soda down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, then steps closer to you. His hands find your waist first, sliding around to rest low on your back, just above the curve of your ass as he pulls you in.

"Am I really picking what we do today?" you ask, your voice softer now, raising your eyebrow.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your neck as he plants a trail of kisses there, sending shivers skittering down your spine as he nibbles softly. "S'all up to you."

His words linger in the air as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns against your back. It's hard to think straight when he's this close to you, when his lips are this soft against your skin, when the scent of him completely wraps around you.

"All up to me, huh?" you repeat, tilting your head back to look at him properly.

"Mhm," he hums as his eyes meet yours, his voice dropping as his hands slip a little lower. "No pressure, though."

You pause for a moment, a thought bubbling up in your mind. "For the entire challenge, do we both have to cum?"

"Uh, yeah," Chris answers almost immediately, giving you a look that suggests you're being a bit ridiculous asking that question. "Are you dumb? What's the point in doin' this shit if we're both not gettin' off?"

"I get that, but... I'm still pretty sore from yesterday."

"Sore?" he repeats, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then, a smug grin spreads across his face, seemingly proud of himself as his arms tighten around you. "Really? Didn't think I fucked you that hard, babe."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile as you playfully pinch his side, causing Chris to hiss through laughter, his body jerking in response. He loosens one arm around your waist to grab your wrist, stopping your miniature attacks

He breathes out steadily through his nose, the sound low and intimate, leaning in to plant a soft peck to your lips—the sweetness of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

"What do you want me to do? Hm?" He asks quietly, his voice low as he presses another gentle kiss to your lips, lingering for just a moment longer before pulling back. "Want me to make it feel better?"

You watch as Chris drops to his knees before you, his hands gripping your hips firmly to press you against the kitchen counter. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop when you watch him slowly pull down your sweatpants and underwear, finding the sight of him on his knees too hot for you to handle, especially when he leans in to bury his face between your thighs, eyes locked on yours.

He presses gentle, loving kisses to your folds and you let out a soft moan, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as your hand comes down to rest on top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you feel his tongue massage the tender skin.

The tip of his tongue traces the length of your slit before circling around your swollen clit, keeping his movements slow as he alternates between long languid strokes along your cunt and delicate clicks against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A muffled noise seeps past your lips when Chris parts your folds carefully with his thumbs and drags his tongue through your arousal, resuming his familiar swirls around your clit before drawing it into his mouth to suck gently.

Chris angles his head, his nose now bumping against your clit as his tongue probs your entrance, poking somewhat teasingly before sliding inside, stroking your inner walls.

He’s still gentle, allowing your aching cunt to adjust to the sensation before he starts thrusting his tongue, one hand curling around your body and gripping your ass, pulling you against his face as you writhe—hips uncontrollable.

At the same time of curling his tongue inside of you, brushing over the spot that has you seeing stars, he brings his free hand up to rub circles around your clit with his thumb, adding an extra layer of stimulation that causes your moans to fill the room.

You struggle to warn him when you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, when your toes curl in your socks and legs tremble as your orgasm hits with force.

You’re cumming on his face, and Chris happily laps up everything you’re giving him, tongue brushing at your spasming walls. He doesn’t let up until he’s sure you’ve ridden out the last tremors coursing through your body, and you feel him chuckle against your skin when he sees you losing balance.

He pulls back to look up at your face properly, keeping one hand gripped on your ass while the other holds your hips, keeping you upright. "You alright, baby?"

You nod your head as Chris stands up, and he leans in to kiss you, but a surprised noise fleets past his lips when he sees you drop to your knees. You can tell he panics a little, his hands reaching out to assist you, but he freezes mid air when he feels your own wrap around his cock, spitting down onto his tip to lubricate him.

You want to return the favour—you’re eager too, especially after the mind blowing orgasm he just gratefully gave you.

You give him a few slow pumps to start him off, hearing him groan above you, feeling his hand resting at the back of your head and guiding you closer to his cock. You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head, teasing his slit.

“Ah… fuck,” Chris moans, his lips parting as he watches you bob your head at a leisurely pace, taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. You swallow around him, contracting your throat, causing him to hiss and jerk his hips forward at the feeling.

You’re making a mess of him—drooling over his cock, gagging around him. Your eyes bubble with tears at the strain, and you moan when he rolls his hips against your face, fucking your throat gently.

When you look up at him, it’s the prettiest sight; his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure, mouth parted as he pants heavily, his eyes hazy.

Chris’ breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue, seeing the way your lips stretch around his cock almost makes him lose it, the pleasure building up inside him like a tight coil about to snap, and deep grunts and groans escaping him now and then as you push him closer and closer to the edge.

"Shit," Chris’ voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "Please… d-don’t stop—fuck."

His free hand reaches out to grip the counter to ground himself and you close your eyes, pumping what you struggle to fit into your mouth as you continue to blow him, your other hand reaching up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

“Keep goin’... keep—fuck—keep lookin’ up at me,” Chris pleads, his breaths coming out heavy and laboured.

You do as you’re told, opening your eyes, looking up at him through sticky lashes to see him already looking down at you, and he shakily exhales as he loosens his grip on your head to push the hair out of his face.

He lets out a shuddering moan as he feels you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, his body arching even more towards your mouth as the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the room.

He suddenly speaks up in a shaky, pleading tone, his words coming out in desperate gasps. "Please… don’t stop… don’t—don’t stop… fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop… please—"

You moan at his pleading, and his hips twitch at the vibrations, his cock slipping back down your throat and making you gag around him again. You continue focussing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, listening to him whimper as his hand resumes gripping your head.

A low guttural moan escapes his lips as he stills, shooting warm, spurts of cum down your throat, and you swallow every drop before releasing him from your mouth with a pop, licking your lips clean as you look up at him with a smile.

He pants heavily as he stares down at you, hair tousled, face flushed—he looks like a wreck, and you’re proud knowing that you’ve done that to him. Although, the smug expression slips off your face as you squeal when he pushes you down onto your back, pushing between your thighs, hovering over you.

Chris palms at himself, jerking his cock back to life, and you spread your legs further apart to accept him inside greedily until you hear a car door slam from the garage.

Are they home already?

You and Chris stare at each other with wide eyes, filled with shock, desperation and need, before you both shoot up to stand on your own two feet, quickly adjusting your clothes to act as natural as you possibly can.

Chris is in the middle of stuffing his cock back into his sweats when Matt appears at the top of the stairs, swinging his car keys around his fingers, but immediately stopping when he looks at you both.

"I don’t want to know," Matt says, shaking his head with a grimace as he walks toward his room. "I really don’t."

# ( THURSDAY, DAY FOUR )

Maybe wearing a dress today wasn't the smartest idea—or maybe it was, depending on how you look at it.

The summer heat is relentless, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the air feel heavy even inside the house. The air conditioner is doing its best, but it's no match for the blazing sun streaming through the windows.

A short sundress seemed like the perfect solution at the time—light, breezy, comfortable—but now, as you lounge idly in the living room, sipping on a cold drink, you're starting to realise the consequences of your own actions.

Chris can't stop staring.

You're not even doing anything—just scrolling through your phone, your legs tucked up on the couch as you take slow sips of your drink, but even with your attention elsewhere you can feel his gaze.

It's subtle at first, little glances that linger a second too long on your exposed skin, but soon, it's impossible to ignore the way he gawks—his focus clearly not on the camera that's filming him and his brothers, nor is his focus on the conversation happening around him.

"Would you stop?!" Nick's voice cuts through, and you glance up just in time to see him swat Chris lightly on the back of the head. "Are you even paying attention right now? We're filming."

Chris blinks, wrinkling his nose as he huffs. "I am payin' attention—and don't hit me like that, I'll knock your fuckin' teeth out."

"Kid thinks he's tough," Matt chimes in, leaning against the counter with a smirk. "Or he's actin' tough in front of his girlfriend."

You pretend to be engrossed in your phone, but the corners of your lips twitch as you fight back a smile, hearing Chris mutter something under his breath—likely a string of curses and minor threats—but the teasing doesn't stop.

"Just focus," Nick says, fixing the items spread out on the table as they get ready to try and bake something. "You're just standing here like a fucking idiot not doing anything."

You glance back up from your phone, finally meeting his gaze, and he smiles at you softly, which you immediately return. You take another slow sip of your drink, deliberately holding eye contact for just a moment longer, stretching out your legs purposefully before looking away.

In the corner of your eye, you see Chris snort and shake his head, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue at your audacity as he awkwardly—but subtly—fixes the front of his jeans away from the camera and brothers.

It continues like that for a long while—Chris sneaking glances at you while trying to balance his focus on filming the video. You've caught him staring at least ten times now, and every time his eyes linger, you can't help but smirk to yourself.

But, to be honest, you're not making it easy for him either.

Stretching lazily on the couch once again, you let your sundress ride up, exposing more of your thighs as you scroll through your phone, pretending to keep yourself busy. You don't even need to look at him to know he's already looking at you, especially when you hear him stop mid-sentence as he talks to the camera, trailing his words.

You gnaw on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing as you hear Matt scold him for not making sense, and you shift again, your dress hiking up just a little more as you lean over to reach for the glass on the coffee table, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting your throat bob before setting it down again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris glance over—his gaze zeroing in on the bare skin of your thighs, and this time, you make it known you're doing it on purpose.

You let your fingers trail lazily along the edge of your dress, smoothing the fabric over your legs, the movement subtle enough that it could be seen as innocent—if not for the slight head tilt and cheeky smile on your slips.

Chris shifts uncomfortably where he's standing, clearing his throat as he tries to regain focus. Luckily, his brothers are too busy arguing over the ingredients to notice him, but you catch the way his jaw tightens and his hand flexes at his side.

When Matt tells him to crack the eggs into the plastic bowl, Chris barely registers the request, his eyes flicking to you one more time before he steps forward, grabbing the bag of flour instead which makes Nick throw his hands up.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Nick shouts, exasperated.

You can't help but let out a quiet laugh at that, and Chris' head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. Yet, you shrug innocently, feigning ignorance as you pick up your drink again, but you're not done yet.

This time, you shift again, letting the small strap of your sundress slide off your shoulder. You don't bother fixing it right away, leaving your skin bare as you rest your head against the back of the couch, arching yourself in a way that you push your chest out, acting as if you're just trying to get comfortable.

Chris visibly falters.

"Chris," Matt snaps. "What is wrong with you?"

Nick follows Chris' gaze, his eyebrow raising as he looks between the two of you, and it takes him about two seconds to figure out what's going on. "Oh, it's you."

Chris shoots him a warning look. "Don't."

Matt looks confused for a second before the realisation hits, chuckling softly. "Can you two, like, stop for five minutes?"

You feel a little guilty for distracting him, but even as they continue filming, you can't help but not stop.

You cross your leg over the other, letting your dress ride up again as you trail your fingers along your collarbone absentmindedly, toying with the strap of your dress. Every little movement is obviously calculated, made to pull his attention away from filming and make him fumble.

By the time they wrap up filming, Chris looks like he's barely holding it together, and the moment they do the outro, Chris practically beelines over to you—his brothers' laughter fading into the background as he grabs your wrist and pulls you up to your feet.

"Come with me." he demands.

"Hm?" you reply, feigning innocence once again as he drags you toward the stairs, pulling you down them quickly. "What did I do?"

Chris doesn't answer, but the heat in his eyes says enough, and you're excited. He doesn't stop walking until you're both downstairs, and he pulls you into his bedroom and shuts the door firmly behind you—the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room, and you barely have a moment to register what's happening before he's on you.

His hands are on your waist as he backs you up toward the bed, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss that's full of heat and frustration.

"You think you're funny?" he mutters against your lips, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes with a teasing grin, your own voice breathless. "... maybe a little."

Chris huffs out a laugh that has an edge to it, and his hands slide down to the hem of your sundress, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he grips the fabric tightly. He lifts the dress higher, and the air feels cooler against your exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Chris' touch makes up for it.

His lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there, and you instinctively tilt your head to give him more access while his hands roam over you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling in his hair as he works his way down your neck, his lips and teeth skimming your skin just enough to make your breath hitch.

"You've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy all day," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. "Sittin' there, lookin' so good... actin' like you didn't know what you were doin'."

You tug lightly on his hair, pulling his head back to meet his eyes. His eyes are dark, full of lust and need, and it makes your heart race and your pussy ache.

"Maybe I wanted to drive you crazy," you tease lightly. "I like seeing you like this."

Chris lets out a low moan, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses you down onto the bed, "Careful, baby," he warns you, though there's no real threat in his tone.

You grin, craning your head up to press your lips to his, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. The kiss is slower this time—deeper—but no less intense as his hands slide up your sides, brushing over the thin straps of your dress before slipping them off your shoulders.

The fabric falls easily, pooling around your waist and leaving your bare chest exposed to his hungry gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaning down to lick and kiss at your breast, capturing your nipple between your teeth.

You mewl softly, arching your back into his touch, your grip tightening on his hair before letting go to tug at his shirt upward.

"Off," you plead weakly.

He doesn't hesitate, his lips leaving your skin to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, allowing you to take a moment to appreciate the sight of him; his slightly toned chest, the way his muscles flex as he moves, the flushed look on his face.

Chris hovers over you, his weight balanced on his forearms as he gazes down at you, his lips parted slightly. The tension between you both feels intense, the air thick with anticipation as his thumb brushes gently over your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture.

He leans down to nudge his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss, more hurried and deep as his hands slide back down your sides, gripping your hips to pull you with him as he switches your positions for you to straddle him while he leans up against the headboard.

The fabric of your sundress is still bunched around your waist, and it doesn't surprise you that Chris keeps it on while he fingers hook beneath the waistband on your panties, awkwardly sliding them off your legs and throwing it aside.

Your bare cunt presses against the zipper of his jeans, and you moan softly, rolling your hips down onto him as he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a moment.

As he presses a series of kisses down the column of your neck, your body reacts—your back arching as breathing hitching once again as his lips move lower, his hands exploring every inch of you.

You tilt your head back, your eyelids fluttering as you let yourself get lost in the moment, feeling his cock twitch beneath you.

"Chris..." you murmur his name softly, and it makes him pause, his head lifting up to meet your gaze with a hum in response. "I need you—need you inside."

Chris nods his head eagerly, patting your hip for you to raise up on your knees to give him space as he undoes the buckle on his jeans, shimmying the leather strap free. He works his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, not bothering to rid them completely, just enough to free his cock from the confinements.

It springs up, thick and hard, the flushed mushroom tip already glistening with pre-cum, eager to be tucked inside your warmth. His hands settle back on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hip bones as he guides you to hover over his cock, the heat of your pussy making his chest rumble with a moan.

You grip the base of his cock, positioning properly at your opening, biting down on your bottom lip at the feeling of him nudging against your puffy folds. With a deep breath, you move, sinking down onto him, impaling yourself on his cock in one smooth motion, letting out a choked gasp as he fills you.

A guttural noise rips from the back of Chris' throat as your inner walls grip around him tightly, his fingers digging into the meaty skin of your hips as he fights the urge to thrust up and burying himself balls deep.

His gaze drifts lower, fisting the hem of your dress to lift it up, fixating on where you're both join—mouth drying up at the obscene sight of his cock disappearing between your folds, wet and glistening with arousal.

You start to move, slowly at first, rolling your hips in a circle to adjust to the size of him, feeling him stretch your inner walls to fit him in snugly. Then, you begin to rise and fall, picking up speed as you get into a steady rhythm, his name falling from your lips repeatedly like a prayer.

You grip his shoulders for balance, helping you bounce up and down as Chris' hands slide up your back, pulling you close to kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth, devouring the sounds of your whimpers and moans, feeling the way you easily glide up and down his cock.

He breaks the kiss only to nip and suck at your jawline, working his way down your neck where he could gently bite down on your pulse point, and you let out a broken sound, your movements stuttering.

"ah, fuck... jus' like that" he urges, rolling his hips upward to meet your uneven bounces. "take what you need, baby. use my cock—fuuuuck."

You increase the pace, sliding your arms around his shoulders to hold him as you bounce faster on Chris' lap, your gummy walls clenching him tightly.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps, drool seeping from the corner of your lips as you whine, "F-feels good—hng—I can't, I can't, I can't—"

He wraps his arms around your, crushing your breasts against his chest as he meets your frenzied pace, feeling your pussy fluttering wildly around his cock that pistons deep within, the gushy and wet sounds of your actions filling the air.

It pushes him closer toward the brink and he whines, "Shit, baby.. y'gonna make me cum."

A loud cry escapes your lips as your nails dig into Chris' shoulders, "Oh god—oh fuck! I'm—fuck! M'cumming!" you squeal loudly, your pussy spasming violently around Chris' cock, the contractions sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your vision blurs, your mind going blank as you ride through your orgasm, your juices dripping around his cock while he slams up into you one final time, burying himself balls deep as he pulses and throbs, shooting hot spurts of cum inside your cunt.

His hips jerk erratically, grinding against your pussy as he empties himself, panting heavily against your skin as he feels your spongy walls squeeze around him rhythmically, milking every last drop of his cum.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, Chris slumps back against the headboard while you collapse weakly on his chest, keeping yourself glued on his softening cock as cum spills from the overflowed hole, creating a sticky mess between your thighs.

You nuzzle your face in the crevice of his neck, seeking warmth and comfort as your thighs ache, barely able to support your weight. You feel drained, but pleased, your eyes glossy and unfocussed as Chris slowly slips himself free of your heat, leaving behind a trail of cum gushing out.

He shifts slightly, adjusting you both so you can rest comfortably on top of him, your head still nestled in the crevice of his neck as his hand gently strokes your back, pressing tender kisses to your sweaty temple.

# ( FRIDAY, DAY FIVE )

You're sprawled out in Chris' bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating the dark room as you watch an episode of your favourite comfort show you've seen a dozen times before. It's been a quiet, lazy afternoon, and you're perfectly content to stay holed up while the triplets are out.

But the sudden and heavy thud of the front door slamming open makes you sit up a little straighter.

The sound is followed by raised voices—angry and heated. You can't make out exactly what they're saying, but it's loud enough to echo through the entire house, and you're quick to pause your show, your attention now fully on the commotion.

Straining to listen, you pick up small bits and pieces of the argument.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" That's Matt's voice, clear and booming, carrying up the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm serious, kid. What's your problem?" Chris snaps back.

"My problem? My problem is that you're a fuckin' immature—"

"Please, for the love of god," Nick's voice cuts in, exasperated and annoyed, but not nearly as loud as the other two. "Shut the fuck up."

There's a loud crash—something slamming against a wall, maybe another door—and you flinch, your curiosity now fully piqued. What could they possibly be fighting about? It's not really unusual for them to argue, but this sounds... a little different.

However, you stay put, resisting the urge to go upstairs into the living-room to see what's happening. You just sit there, ears tuned to the muffled shouting as it continues to escalate. Chris' voice is the loudest while Matt's is angrier, more forceful. Nick seems to be playing the role of the mediator, trying (and miserably failing) to calm them both down.

After a few more minutes, the argument seems to abruptly cut off, leaving the house in complete silence—apart from the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You barely have time to decide if you want to continue staying put or go out and see them before the door to Chris' room swings open with enough force to make it bounce slightly off the wall.

He storms in, his face a mix of frustration and anger, his jaw tight and eyes blown wide. He's still breathing heavily, like he's just come from a full-on shouting match, and he looks like he's barely holding it together.

He stops in the doorway, his eyes locking on you as you sit up against the pillows, wide-eyed and a little startled by his sudden entrance.

"Chris...?" you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. "What's going on?"

He remains silent for a moment, taking a deep breath as he steps further into the room, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before unclenching, shaking the tension in his fingers.

"Get up."

You blink, confused by his sudden demand. "What? What? What happened?"

Chris doesn't elaborate further as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you up from the bed with more force than you were expecting. "We're goin'."

"Going where?" you ask, stumbling as you try to keep up with his strides as he leads you toward the door. "Chris, what the fuck is going on?"

He doesn't stop, his grip firm on your wrist as he pulls you out of his room and toward the garage door, his thumb idly stroking your skin.

"We're goin' to have sex in Matt's car." he says matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You stop dead in your tracks, forcing him to pause outside the garage door and turn back to you. "I'm sorry—what did you just say?"

Chris exhales deeply, "You heard me. Matt pissed me off, 'n I'm gettin' back at him."

You blink at him again, your brain struggling to catch up. "By... having sex... in his car?"

Chris nods. "Yes."

"Chris, that's... that's insane," you say, though you can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "You're not, like, actually serious.. are you?"

His eyes narrow, deadpanning. "I'm serious."

You're still baffled, but the sheer determination in his expression—and the way he's already pushing open the garage door—tells you that he's not joking at all.

Part of your wants to argue, to tell him this is fucking ridiculous and unnecessary. But the other part of you—the part that loves his impulsive and chaotic side—can't help but find the whole thing intriguing.

"Okay, you're officially insane," you mutter, finally giving in as you follow behind him, allowing him to lead you toward Matt's car.

Chris glances back at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocks the car door, "Yeah," he hums, his tone lighter now. "But you love it."

Well... he's not wrong.

He pulls open the door and guides you into the back seat, and you glance around a little nervously as Chris climbs in after you, shutting the door behind himself. He turns to face you, his eyes burning with intensity in the dim light of the garage filtering through the tinted windows of the car.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to do this," he admits to you as he touches your hips, helping you manoeuvre onto your hands and knees in the limited space. He cups your ass, giving the covered skin a firm squeeze as he hums. "Havin' you bent over in the backseat, your pretty ass on display f'me to fuck. Thought it would be in my own car, but uh... Matt just had to piss me the fuck off."

You gasp when his hand comes down with a sharp slap, making your body jolt forward at the force and you reach out, steadying yourself with your own hand braced against the door.

"C-Chris—"

"We don't have much time," he reminds you, licking at his lips as he makes quick work of pulling down your sleep shorts, and Chris can't resist giving your ass another smack, watching the flesh jiggle enticingly. "Shiiit, look how we you are."

His fingers caress through your slick folds, dipping in between to stroke your slit with a satisfied hum, watching as you quiver beneath him in anticipation. He pulls his cock out of his sweats with practiced ease, slapping the tip against your puffy folds a few times before he pushes himself in, causing you to grip the seats hard, nails scratching at the fabric.

You push back against him greedily, seeking more friction and pressure as he slides in and out easily, keeping a steady rhythm before he picks up speed, his balls slapping against your clit.

The combination of having sex in Matt's car, stuck in the confined space, and feeling Chris' body over your sends you spiralling. You're aware of how exposed and vulnerable you are right now, how easy it is for you to get caught in this position—or even heard.

Plus, there's no barrier between your skin and the car, and you can feel your arousal dripping onto the seats below you, and how your heavy breathing fogs up the windows of the car.

Your other hand dips between your legs to cup yourself, your fingers grazing over Chris' cock that bullies your cervix, trying your hardest not to create a mess on the seats.

"Move your hand," Chris demands with a grip, his grip tightening on your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the limited space. "M'serious. Move it."

"But.. but—"

"Don't give a fuck if you make his car messy, baby. Ruin the seats for all I care—Move. Your. Hand."

Chris' words are punctuated by each deep and harsh thrust, the lewd squelching of his cock plunging in and out of your soaked pussy, but suddenly, he pulls almost all the way out, only the tip remaining nestled inside.

You whine at the withdrawal, your body instinctively reaching back for him, craving the fullness of his cock he provided seconds ago. You risk glancing over your shoulder, gnawing on your bottom lip, your heart racing from the immense pleasure and the risk of being discovered in such a compromising position.

Chris traces a finger along your spine, his eyebrow raised in expectation, his gaze darting down to your cunt before meeting your eyes again.

He's waiting for you to remove your hand.

He wants you to make a mess in Matt's car.

The thought of it makes you moan quietly, and your hand drops back to the seat, only for it to be replaced with his own hand as it snakes around to touch your sensitive clit, causing you to release a high-pitched whimper.

Pleased with your reaction, Chris continues to rub circles while pushing his cock back inside, pressing himself fully against you before his hips snap against yours, the car rocking with the force.

You let out a choked gasp, your mouth stuck forming the perfect 'o' shape at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and his cock fucking your cunt. You struggle to hold yourself up by your arms, and you give out, slumping face first into the seats, drooling on the material without a care in the world.

"There we go, thaaaat's it," Chris coos, using his other hand that's not on your clit to stroke your back. "Make a fuckin' mess on the seats, baby. Gooood girl."

His balls continue to slap against your raw skin with every erratic pump of his hips, the obscene sounds mingling with your muffled whimpers and his grunts. Your body's buzzing, and your tummy tightens into knots, and you can feel the pressure building more and more—but you can't warn him, you can't find your words.

It comes faster than you anticipated, your pussy convulsing around him rapidly before squirting your release all over his cock, the wetness and the force causing him to slip out of you completely with a lewd pop.

Your body shakes, mouth agape in a silent scream, vaguely aware of the liquid gushing out onto the car seats as your walls clench and unclench repeatedly, the mess dripping down your already soaked thighs.

"Shit..." Chris stares in awe at the sight of your pussy, still twitching and releasing drops of liquid, pooling beneath you both.

His cock stands against his stomach, covered in your arousal, glistening under the dimmed light, and he reaches down to stroke himself, using the sight alone to get him off—panting heavily as he leans over you to cum all over your ass in quick spurts, watching himself create an even bigger mess.

"You good, baby?" Chris asks softly after a moment, leaning in further to get a closer look at you, pushing the hair out of your sweaty face with a tender touch.

You nod your head weakly, your mouth dry and throat coarse, and you wince as he takes a hold of your upper arm to sit you up, curling his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.

"We... we can't leave this mess here," you whisper, grimacing at the stains all over the seats, knowing you'll have to deep clean the fuck out of Matt's car before he figures out what has happened. Chris goes to protest, but you're already speaking up again. "What were you even arguing about?"

Chris purses his lips, scratching the back of his neck as he murmuringly admits. "He dropped my burger so I poured ketchup all over his."

Your head slowly turns to face him, almost comically, your face straight, unamused that the whole argument—the loudness, the slamming of doors, and the payback—was all because of something so mundane.

"Are you fucking serious?"

# ( SATURDAY, DAY SIX )

You're curled up comfortably on your couch, still in your pyjamas, a mug of coffee sitting half-empty on the table in front of you while a notebook filled with to-do lists sits in your hand, planning out your ultimate relaxing day.

Today is all about you.

You've planned out every moment; a long and relaxing bubble bath with your favourite scented candles, a little online shopping, making trying out a new dessert recipe you saw on Tiktok.

No interruptions.

No obligations.

Just peace and quiet.

The thought alone makes you grin as you lean back against the couch, pen in hand, tapping it against your notebook rhythmically as you finalise the perfect plan.

Until you hear the knock at your front door.

Your brow furrows slightly. You weren't expecting anyone, and your friends usually text you first to let them know they're coming over. You assume maybe it's a neighbour or even a delivery you're forgotten about, and you get up to shuffle to the door, pulling it open without much thought.

And there he is.

Chris stands on the other side, grinning widely, dressed casually in a oversized hoodie and sweatpants. He holds a cup of what look suspiciously like iced coffee—your favourite kind, and in the other, he holds a square-shaped calendar.

"Mornin' baby," he says, holding up the calendar and tapping it with his finger. "Guess what day it is."

You stare at him, confused. "What..? What are you—"

And then it hits you.

Oh fuck.

You completely forgot about the seven days challenge for a moment—so focussed on wanting to have a you day that it slipped your mind entirely.

"You forgot, didn't you?" he teases, his grin widening. "How can you forget? My dick not doin' it anymore for you?" he pauses, recalling the words he just said, the grin slipping. "Don't answer that. I'll die. I'm serious."

"I didn't forget, okay? I just..." you trail off, scrambling to find the best word to explain, though you know there's no excuse to save you now.

"Uh-huh, right," he hums, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he steps past you into the house, walking over to set the calendar and coffee down on your kitchen counter. "Good thing I remembered though. Otherwise we'd be missing out on day six, 'n that would be tragic."

You close the front door behind you, dragging your feet to follow him into the kitchen with your arms crossed over your chest, pouting. "But I had plans today..."

"Plans?" he turns to you, raising a brow. "Like what?"

You gesture vaguely toward the living room. "Like relaxing, watching my favourite show, maybe bake a cake or something."

Chris blinks at you, his face deadpan for a moment before he breaks into a slow smirk. "Wow. Amazing. You thought all that is better than having sex with me?"

Your jaw drops, and you glare at him. "Chris."

He smirks wider, completely unfazed by your warning tone as he jabs his finger repeatedly at today's date on the calendar, the sound of his finger tapping the paper. "We're supposed to complete the week, ma. C'mon... look what I have planned."

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering down at the calendar. Your eyes land on the scribbled word beneath today's date, and you immediately jerk back, your eyes wide.

"No. Nope. Absolutely not." you say, shaking your head so fast it's a miracle it doesn't fall off.

Chris tilts his head, "Why not?"

"Because!" you exclaim, pointing at the calendar like it's personally offended you. "You are not doing that to me, Chris!"

"Why not?" Chris repeats with a dramatic whine, stepping closer to you, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh that escapes past your lips, even as your arms instinctively slip around his shoulders for your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, twirling the soft curls there, and his own hands tighten on your hips.

"You're not putting it in my ass."

"I honestly think it'll be fun."

"For you, maybe." you shoot back, trying your best to sound firm, but the way his fingers are kneading your hips is making it harder for you to stay serious.

Chris' grin only widens at your reaction, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leans in close, his nose brushing against yours. "C'mon... you might like it, y'know?"

You groan softly, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as you mutter, "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this conversation right now."

His arms tighten around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're laughin' and smilin', baby... think you're already halfway convinced."

You pull back slightly to glare at him, though the playful glint in your eyes makes it obvious you're not really mad, or fully against the idea. "I'm not convinced... there's just no way I'm letting you put your dick in my ass."

Chris wiggles his eyebrows at you, "You say that now, but give it time, baby. I've got my ways."

And he does, he always does.

Because right now, you're sprawled out across your bed, skin bare, knees pressed to your chest as Chris' mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue swirling and lips suckling around your clit while his two fingers work inside your ass—covered in copious amounts of lube for a more easy access.

You take a shaky breath, wincing at the initial stretch of something foreign being inside you back there, but as he continues to apply gentle pressure along with the tender licks of his tongue on your cunt, you begin to slowly relax—your body yielding to his touch.

Chris watches your expression closely from below, taking notice of the subtle shift from discomfort to relaxation as he smiles against your folds, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your slit as he continues to stroke your inner walls with his fingers, maintaining such a steady pace that it has your toes curling.

Chris slowly withdraws his finger before gently pushing it back in, sinking it deeper this time, and your back arches with a quiet whine, gripping the sheets as he keeps his movements slow and controlled.

"I... I..." you speak breathlessly, unable to find your words as his free hand wanders up your torso to massage your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple to help distract you from any lingering discomfort, and it works.

Your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the stimulation of his probing fingers and delicate thumbing of your nipple, surprised to find yourself actually enjoying this new experience—the slight burn of stretching giving way to the growing warmth in your belly.

When he believes you're ready, he removes his fingers from your ass, causing you to whine a little from the loss of contact. You watch through hooded-lids as he positions himself, grabbing his cock to line it up with your prepared hole, making you shiver and tense up when you feel him lightly press to your opening.

"Just relax," he reminds you, using his other hand to caress your thigh lovingly, sending you a warm smile. "Take a breath, you'll be okay. I got you."

You give him an affirmative nod, taking a deep breath in as he pushes his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching your tight ring, pausing every so often to allow you to adjust to his side.

You cry out sharply his cock stretching you open, your muscles clenching reflexively around him, and the pain makes you seize up, your hands flying out to grasp his arms—pinching the skin with your nails on accident, but he doesn't seem to mind as he focuses more on you than himself.

The tears bubble at the corner of your eyes from the burn of being stretched much significantly larger than his fingers, and your teeth gnaw down on your bottom lip harshly to stifle the whimpers that threaten to spill.

"It's okay, it's okay," Chris coos softly, "Just breathe, mama. You're doin' so well already."

He knows it's a lot to take in, but he can't help but feel so satisfied at finally claiming you this way—marvelling at the tightness and the warm embrace around his cock.

He rubs your thighs tenderly, holding still for a moment, allowing you to get used to the feeling of being so filled from a different way. Then, slowly, he begins to withdraw, only to push back in carefully, repeating his shallow motions as he leans his body over yours, his breath fanning across your face before claiming your lips.

You struggle to reciprocate at first, but eventually, you return the kiss, your tongue sliding into his mouth as the pain ebbs away, replaced by a strange tingly warmth that spreads through your lower half—body adjusting to the constant pressure of his cock moving within you.

A soft, strangled moan escapes your throat as you feel him hit a particularly sensitive spot, and your grip loosens on his arms to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting heavily against his skin.

"There... there we go," Chris praises, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline as he picks up the pace, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm as he sinks deeper with each thrust. He can already feel the heat building within him, his balls drawing up tight to cum.

His hips continue to roll, grinding his pelvis against your ass to stimulate that sensitive spot again, and he grins when he hears your sharp gasp, your teeth grazing over the juncture of his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good—oh my god—"

You shiver under Chris' words, your face warming with a mix of embarrassment and pride. You try to meet his thrusts with your own, pushing your hips up to take him deeper, only for a desperate whine to bubble from your lips as the tip of his cock brushes against the spot inside you again and again, sending sparks shooting down your spine.

"I... I think... I think I'm close," you pant out, your voice trembling as your toes curl. "Please.. please.."

"Yeah?" Chris hums, his grip on your hips tightening as he increases the speed of his thrusts a little, staring down at you with wild eyes, lips parted as he breathes heavily. "Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby—c'mon."

He urges you, angling his hips, pressing deeper to push you over the edge as the pressure coils tighter in his balls, desperate to fill you up—but he holds himself back with has much willpower as he can muster, focused on making you cum first.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon—" he repeats his words, pumping his hips, his balls slapping against your cheeks as he drills you into the bed, his moans blending in with your high-pitched moans.

Your vision whites out, and you see flecks behind your closed lids as an orgasm rips through you, clenching around his cock tightly. You can barely form any coherent thoughts, too overwhelmed by the intensity that you don't feel him pulsing inside of you, his cock filling you up as he reaches his own release.

You're lost in the aftershocks, gasping for air as you try to process what just happened, but when reality starts to filter back in, you look up at Chris with hazy eyes, a dazed smile playing on your lips.

Chris leans down to press a kiss to your damp forehead, his breath warm against your skin as he breathes heavily, carefully pulling out of you and rolling onto his side, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You okay?" you hear him ask you quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between your both as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You nod against him, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as his fingers begin tracing lazy, soothing patterns down your spine, the motion calming you—taking your mind off the dull ache that lingers down below.

"I'm fine," you murmur, draping your arm across his middle to hold him close, smiling tiredly when he presses another kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin lightly against you.

Silence settles between you both once again, just relaxing in each other’s embrace, listening to the sounds of the outside world until Chris decides to break it;

“I hope you know we’re doin’ that again... and again, and again, and—”

# ( SUNDAY, DAY SEVEN, FINAL )

You can't believe you've made it to Sunday—the end of the week.

Fucking Chris for six—almost seven—days straight has been taxing on your body; every muscle aches, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, and you're a little sore between your legs.

You're drained, sure, but as you lay in bed, reflecting on the past several days, you can't help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest.

Despite the ache, despite the exhaustion, it's been... really good. The past week wasn't unusual for your relationship. You and Chris have always been sexually active, but this week felt so different.

Being with him so frequently, so intensely, has unlocked a new kind of closeness between you—one that you hadn't even realised was missing.

It wasn't just about the physicality, no, there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you through it all, his gaze filled with love and appreciation. It was the way he touched you, firm but gentle in the moments when you needed him to be. It was the way he listened to you and spoke to you, how every word carved deep into your soul, leaving a mark behind.

You've always been comfortable with Chris, but this week, it felt like both of you had peeled back another layer to expose parts of yourself you've never shared before. You saw new sides of him, and in turn, you felt open and comfortable enough to show more of yourself in ways you'd never thought you would.

It reminded you why you love him in the first place: the way he makes you feel so seen, heard, loved, and wanted.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Chris enters you room, a box in hand and a silly, crooked smile stretched across his lips. He nudges the door closed with his foot before making his way over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the box down on the sheets in front of you.

You raise your eyebrow in curiosity, your gaze darting down to the mysterious box before back at him, "What is it?"

He leans back on one hand, the other gesturing toward the box. "Open it."

You purse your lips sceptically before reaching out, your fingertips grazing the edges of the cardboard box as you slowly pop open the lid, leaning forward to peek inside.

What you see nearly pulls a laugh from your throat—a snort threatening to escape as you hold your hand over your mouth. Inside sits a cake, weakly decorated and messy, the frosting smeared unevenly across the surface in bright splashes of blue and green.

Red icing hearts dot the edges, lopsided and wobbly, and in the middle, written in shaky (and barely legible) icing letters, are the words: 'YOU DID IT. CONGRATS ON FUCKING ME FOR SEVEN DAYS. I ♡ YOU'.

You're stuck in silence, your hand still covering your mouth as you try to stifle the grin tugging at your lips before finally letting out a laugh.

"You're so stupid..." you murmur affectionately.

Chris' grin only grows wider at that, "I think it's romantic."

"Romantic?" you tease, "You call this romantic?"

"Me workin' my ass off in the kitchen to make this shit f'you while you lay in bed? Yeah, I think it's romantic," he says, his eyes glimmering as he points to the cake. "D'you know how hard it is to write with icing? I almost threw the fuckin' thing."

You giggle softly as you look down at the cake. The thing is, it's perfect. Not in the traditional sense due to it being so lopsided and messy, and the fact it looks like it was made by a five-year-old—but it's perfect because it's from him.

The thought, the effort, the way he wanted to celebrate this silly little challenge—it makes your heart ache.

Your fingers brush lightly over the edge of the box once again as you glance up at Chris, "You really did this?"

Chris' grin fades, replaced by a softer smile as he rests his hand on top of yours, "'Course I did," he brushes his thumb over your knuckles. "You deserve it, y'know? Been puttin' up with me 'n my dick all week, wanted to do somethin' special for you. Even if it's ugly."

"It's not ugly," you rebuke quickly, but Chris raises an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that makes you falter. You take one glance at the cake again, pressing your lips together before finally relenting. "Okay, maybe it's a little ugly."

The pair of you laugh, and you push yourself up on your knees to lean over the box, cupping his face between your palms to bring him in for a sweet kiss. Chris responds instantly, his lips meeting yours, his fingers curling around your hips to steady you as you lean into him.

The kiss deepens, his mouth moving against yours, and you can feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips which brings out your own smile too, your fingers sliding up into his hair as you tilt your head to the side.

"Wait," he mumbles against your lips, voice muffled and breathless, and you pull back to meet his gaze, confused. "I know it's ugly, but we don't need to crush the cake, baby."

Oh.

You look down at the box still sitting between you both, your clothes almost touching the icing around the edges and you pull your hands from his hair to press against his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Chris picks up the box carefully with a soft laugh, placing it down on the nightstand—keeping it far away from the two of you. The second he turns back to you, his hands are on you again, pulling you closer for his lips to find yours.

The kiss is deeper now, slow and deliberate, as his hands slide up your waist, holding onto you as yours fist the fabric of his shirt, your knees brushing against his as you melt into him.

His arm hooks around your middle, lifting you up a little only to lay you back against the bed, sprawling you under him. You expected him to kiss you again, to leave you feeling breathless, but you're surprised when all he does is caress your face softly, stroking your cheek and trace the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb.

He's staring down at you so lovingly that you grow flustered, looking elsewhere around the room until he cups your chin to bring your attention back to him, leaning down to reconnect your lips.

Chris is the first to take off his shirt, fisting at the material and pulling it over his shoulders, discarding it to the floor to help you take off yours before his lips attach to your chest—leaving light, feathery kisses over your skin, and you arch your back with a quiet gasp, watching as he trails over your breasts and down your stomach.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly as he kisses down your legs, and you squirm at the cold air that hits your pussy—knees knocking against his side but he pays no mind as he decides to lay between your legs.

The sight of him staring at you from his position builds the arousal in the pit of your belly, and you lift your hips to coax him into touching you—tasting you—and you clench around nothing when he leans in to press another kiss to your inner thighs.

Without warning, you feel his tongue slowly lap your slit, the tip of the wet muscle wiggling between your folds before flicking over your clit slowly, and you hum, threading your fingers through his hair.

Chris moans into your pussy as he messily slurps you up, sucking on your clit with the right amount of suction, causing a cry to tumble past your lips as you instinctively roll your hips against his face, seeking more friction.

Chris takes it upon himself to hook one hand beneath your knee to push it up at an angle that helps bury his face further between your legs, mouthing at all the right places.

You tilt your head back with a moan, unable to control the pitch of your sounds as your orgasm builds up quicker than usual, the band in the tummy tightening as your pussy clenches around the tip of his tongue that dips inside of you—the pressure and pleasuring becoming too much for you to handle that the band snaps, cumming heavy on his tongue.

"Good job, baby." Chris praises you, lapping you up eagerly as he helps ride out your orgasm, smiling against your pussy when he feels your thighs twitch.

You struggle to catch your breath, dry panting as you jerk your hips away from his mouth, and his chest vibrates with a laugh, letting go of the back of your knee to watch it drop limp on the bed.

You taste yourself when he crawls up your body to kiss your lips, and you suck on his tongue to which he responds by rutting his hips into yours, his covered cock pressing against you.

"Take them off," you whisper into the kiss, your hands tugging at his sweats. "Please, take them off."

Chris doesn't verbally respond to you as his tongue slides into your mouth, but his own hands move toward his sweats, pulling at the drawstring to untie it before shoving them down his legs along with his boxers.

You move your hand between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock, causing him to moan between kisses as you pump him leisurely, your head spinning with the way he pants against your mouth—mouth agape as his breathing gets heavier and heavier with each tug of your hand.

Eventually, you guide him to your opening, coating his cock with your arousal and his saliva as you slide the tip through your folds. Chris deeply exhales, pulling his lips from yours to look down, watching you position his tip at your awaiting hole, angling his hips forward to help push inside.

Your body welcomes him immediately, and Chris coos, taking your hand in his own to give it a few squeezes as you both watch where you're connected—watching him sink deeper into you bit by bit, rolling his hips to thrust slowly, allowing your legs to wind around his waist to pull him in closer.

He kisses you once again, pouring his love and devotion into it as he brings your interlocked hands above your head, pressing them into the pillow as he gets comfortable above you.

Each gentle and slow roll of his hips has you seeing stars behind your closed lids, listening to the way Chris moans and groans every time he bottoms out inside you, and your gummy walls clench around him in return.

Your grip on his hand tightens when you break the kiss to allow yourself to breathe in fresh air, struggling for oxygen, staring up at him in bliss to see the slightly fuzzy outline of him smiling down at you—his own eyelid fluttering with every roll of his hips.

But he buries his face into the crevice of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin as the pace of his thrusts start to quicken, the wet noises of your pussy sucking in his cock fills the room along with your shameless noises of pleasure, and your free hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, threading your fingers through the roots as you nip at his shoulders.

"F-Fuck I love you," he whimpers, his teeth grazing over your skin as he splutters repeatedly. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I—"

Your hand tightens around his own as his words of affection tip you over the edge completely, whining as your legs tremble around his hips as you cum all over his cock. The feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice triggers his own climax and he’s moaning into your neck, releasing with long spurts that paint your insides and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, the warmth spreading.

He stays above you for quite some time, basking in each other's presence and collecting your breath, staring at one another with giddy smiles which causes you both to laugh as he pulls out with a wince before laying back over you comfortably.

"I really fuckin' love you... y'know that, right?" Chris whispers softly to you, removing his hand from yours to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly.

A small, tired, but lovingly smile graces your lips as you let out a content sigh, your own voice barely above a whisper as you reply back to him. "I know... and I really fucking love you too."

#chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets smut #©sturnioz

2K notes · View notes

seumyo · 12 days ago

Text

will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?

Bakugou had turned the damn house upside down three times.

“Where the hell is it?” He hissed under his breath, storming through the hallway closet for the third time in two days. He’d torn apart the shoe rack, the document folders, and even flipped through the cookbooks in the kitchen, just in case he’d used it as a bookmark. No dice. The damn passport was still missing.

His hair was sticking up more than usual—half from stress, half from the static of the hoodie he’d thrown on that morning in frustration. They were supposed to leave for Korea in three days. Three. It was the biggest pro-hero conference he’d ever been invited to—panel talks, interviews, awards. Best Jeanist, Lemillion, and even Halfie had their confirmations sent in already.

And what did he have?

An expired copy of his license (he got a new one; the expired one’s just in his drawer), a half-crushed protein bar, and a very pouty, very pregnant wife in the living room.

You had your feet up on the couch, ankles slightly swollen beneath the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his wardrobe. You were scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other resting on your baby bump, lazily tracing circles. When Bakugou stomped past, you looked up with the slow blink of a cat.

“Still lost?” you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement. Even laughed under your breath.

The audacity, he thinks, though it wasn’t frustration. He could never be mad at you.

Because he knows you’ll get mad at him, too.

Bakugou didn’t answer. He grunted instead, pulling out another drawer in the cabinet near the TV.

“Maybe it grew legs and walked off,” you teased. “Or maybe your big fat ego swallowed it.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You hummed. “Not trying to.”

Your pout had gotten more dramatic since hitting six months. Bakugou noticed it more these days, how you’d stare down your food like it personally offended you, or how you’d sigh theatrically every time the topic of even him leaving the house came up. At first, you’d been supportive—even joked that you’d video call him during the conference and heckle him from the screen. But once you found out the biggest day of the event landed on your wedding anniversary, the whole game changed.

Suddenly he feels like he’s on house arrest.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you murmured, taking a sip of the juice he made you this morning. “Maybe you’re meant to stay home this time.”

Bakugou scoffed. As if.

“Ain’t no damn sign. It’s just misplacin’ shit.”

“You don’t have to go,” you said again. “You could stay. Cuddle me. Eat cake. Listen to me cry about clouds.”

“You said I could go if I find my passport,” he pouts, brows furrowed, and his lips jutted slightly.

“I did, and don’t be mad,” you replied. “I want you to go. Really. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Then why do you look like you wanna punch me in the throat?”

You blinked at him. “Because it’s our anniversary and I’m hormonal. Sue me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I hope you don’t find it.”

That was the end of that conversation.

The night before their anniversary came sooner than expected.

Bakugou had made a reservation at one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the city. Private booth, soft fairy lights, cityscape twinkling behind them. The host even laid a small bouquet of lavender on the table when he told them it was for a special occasion. He hadn’t told you where you were going, only grunted, “Wear that dress you like—that comfy one. You know the one.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything new about the passport ordeal. You, who figured he’d either given up or accepted fate, were mostly content to enjoy the evening.

You looked like a dream, so his focus was entirely on you. Someone who he somehow managed to have (maybe his bond with his guardian angels came in clutch and even contacted Cupid himself to arrange an arrow for you two).

You waddled into the restaurant, cheeks a little fuller, eyes glowing. He still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got so lucky. He thinks it makes you shy, how intense his gaze got, even after everything—the morning sickness, the mood swings, the late-night hospital runs due to paranoia.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked in.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning into his touch. You could barely hide your smile at this point. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I am? So what? Can’t a man just appreciate his wife?”

Dinner went well, for the most part.

You had one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around his fingers on the table. You were halfway through your chocolate mousse when Bakugou reached into his jacket pocket and slid something across the table.

“No,” you said slowly, setting your spoon down. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

He didn’t look smug at all, more like... hopeful.

Your brows furrowed. You reached for the passport, flipping it open.

There it was. His damn passport. Found. Intact. Stamped. His most recent picture was taken only a few months ago.

Yoh stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it again.

“…You found it?”

“Yup.”

“Where was it?”

He cleared his throat, gaze shifting to the side.

“…Behind the dresser in the guest room. Stuffed in that red envelope labeled ‘Important Shit,’ which you labeled in your handwriting, by the way.”

You paused. Your cheeks puffed again as your lips turned downward in the softest pout he’d ever seen. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, spoon idle.

“You’re really gonna go?”

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna leave you pissed off and lonely, either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just poked at your mousse with your spoon. Your lashes were low, and he could tell you were struggling. Not angry, just…sad.

Finally, you said, “It’s just one. It’s just one anniversary. We’ll have dozens more, right?”

“We will. We’ll have centuries more.”

“…And you’ll video call me. Every day.”

“Morning and night.”

“And text me when you land. And when you eat. And when you leave the venue. And—”

Bakugou reached across the table and tugged gently at your hand. His hands are rough against yours, but they’re filled with sincerity and utmost love that a man could give to his wife.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

His voice softened.

“Seriously, d’ya think I’d leave you without a plan?”

You blinked.

“I’m leavin’ you flowers and your cake. I told Kirishima to drop off that spa basket thing you said you wanted last month. And your mom’s stayin’ over the night of. I made sure. I even stocked the fridge.”

Your mouth parted slightly, tilting your head to the side. “You…did all that?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot. Even if I ain’t here physically. I’m still here.”

Your eyes shimmered just a bit. A good sign, Bakugou notes.

Then you smiled—soft and tired and affectionate.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Tch. Don’t cry. I’ll look like an asshole.”

You laughed then, nose crinkling. “You are an asshole. But a sweet one.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

“I do.”

You two didn’t talk about the passport again that night. Not after that.

Instead, you finished dessert. Slowly. Your hand stayed in his the whole time.

When you walked out of the restaurant, he kept his arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully down the steps like you were made of glass. You leaned into him, soft and warm, your belly pressing into his side.

And when they got home, you told him, “Let’s open the anniversary cake early.”

He didn’t say no. Not when you looked that happy. It doesn’t matter that he’s already full from the chocolate mousse you two had earlier.

When night finally settled, and Bakugou’s wiping the excess frosting off the corners of your lips with a napkin, he hears you say, “Come home soon, okay?”

He nodded, then softly kissed the crown of your head.

“Always.”

Always come home to you.

The morning of Bakugou’s flight started earlier than usual.

He had been up before the alarm even went off, brushing his teeth with the kind of intensity that only came from years of military-grade discipline… or nerves (also because he wants all bad germs on his mouth to die). Not that he’d ever admit to the latter. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from the hot shower as he stared at his reflection.

This was it. The day he was supposed to fly out to Korea.

Except—he wasn’t going.

Not really.

He’d made his decision last night, somewhere between the weight of your hug and the feel of your heartbeat against his body when you fell asleep on his chest. The moment you started snoring softly, your nose slightly buried in his shirt, he realized there was no way in hell he was getting on that plane.

Not this time.

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

Because if there was one thing Bakugou knew about his wife, it was that you’d throw a fit if he skipped a life-changing professional opportunity just to spend your anniversary folding baby laundry and rubbing your swollen ankles. Plus, he knew you’d never allow him to stay. And if you knew he was lying about leaving, you’d huff and puff until he actually made him go.

So, he planned ahead. Like a goddamn mastermind.

By the time you woke up—slightly groggy with pillow lines on your cheek—he had already “packed.” His suitcase was zipped shut and positioned neatly by the door. His travel duffle bag sat upright next to it. His travel documents were tucked inside an envelope labeled “Do Not Open Unless Emergency.” (Totally blank inside.)

You blinked at him sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you waddled into the living room in his oversized T-shirt. One of the many shirts he was sure was missing from his closet.

“You already packed?” you murmured, voice small and pouty.

He turned from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Acting too nonchalant to not give anything away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t wanna rush.”

You crossed your arms over your bump. “It’s only a three-hour flight, Katsuki. Not an expedition to the Arctic.”

“Still gotta prep,” he said, biting back a grin.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the smell of something sweet distracted you. Bingo.

He stepped aside, revealing a neatly arranged dessert box sitting on the counter. Inside: four of your favorites—strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, a slice of creamy Basque burnt cheesecake, a generous portion of tiramisu, and your current obsession: mango sticky rice.

“You bought me desserts?” you awed.

“I bought you a stack,” he corrected. “Don’t think I don’t know you get all sad and start craving sugar when I leave.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said, crossing his arms smugly. “You pouted so hard last time I left, I came back to find the fridge empty and you passed out with a half-eaten ice cream tub on the couch.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’m not takin’ chances.”

He bent forward, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to your rounded belly. “Eat well. Don’t lift anything heavy. Text me when you’re sleepy. I’ll land by lunch. Kirishima’s already on the way, but it’ll take a while because of traffic since the bridge is getting repaired.”

“You’re acting suspicious,” you said, frowning as you clung to his shirt. “You never say goodbye this… nicely.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re normally grumpy and say something like, ‘Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.’”

He smirked. You weren’t wrong entirely.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna come back to find out you’ve cried over an empty dessert box.”

Your lip wobbled, and he kissed you again—softly this time, with an extra squeeze to your waist.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just for two nights.”

He left around nine. Or at least, pretended to.

Instead of heading to the airport, he drove straight to his agency, parked in the underground garage, and holed up in his office. There was a bottle of juice in the mini fridge, emergency snacks in the bottom drawer, and an absurd number of congratulatory emails flooding his inbox that he ignored.

The hours ticked by slowly.

He checked his phone a dozen times. No calls. No texts. Just one blurry photo from you of the dessert box with the caption: You’re lucky I’m in a sugar coma right now. Or I’d be mad you left without triple kissing me goodbye.

He snorted.

Around lunchtime, he got restless. Then irritated.

Then, at exactly 1:00 P.M., he got in the car and drove home.

No warning.

No heads-up.

He half-expected you to be lounging in the living room, watching drama reruns and fanning yourself while complaining about heartburn. But when he pulled up the driveway and unlocked the front door—

The house was suspiciously quiet.

His brows pulled together.

“[Name]?” he called out, stepping in.

Nothing.

He frowned and shut the door behind him, stepping out of his boots. He heard a thud from the back hallway. Then a low grunt. A shuffle.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he heard you muttering.

“Come on, come on, I’m not that heavy—”

He rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

There you were.

Standing in the hallway. Sweaty. Red-faced. Holding a large box half your size with both hands, your bump barely giving you enough room to balance it. Your lip was caught between your teeth as you struggled to carry what was definitely one of the boxes he had explicitly labeled: Do Not Touch.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You screamed.

You literally screamed—jumping nearly out of your skin, eyes wide like you saw a ghost.

Or a burglar.

Or both, at this point.

“—Katsuki! I thought you were in Korea—what the hell—”

“Put the box down.”

“You can’t just walk in like that, I thought—I—”

“Put it down, [Name].”

You dropped it with a loud thunk, wobbling backward and grabbing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I thought you were a home invader! I was ready to throw a candle at you—why are you back?!”

Bakugou marched toward you, still wide-eyed with a mixture of rage and pure panic. He can’t believe this at all. “More importantly, why the fuck are you lifting boxes?!”

“I was bored!”

“Bored? So you decided to tear a disc and pop a blood vessel?!”

“I didn’t tear anything! And it wasn’t heavy; it’s mostly baby blankets!”

He crouched down instantly to pick it up—still heavy, despite your excuses—and carried it to the nursery, grumbling the entire way. “Goddamn woman’s gonna give me a stroke,” he muttered, though there was never any heat in his words.

You waddled after him, still stunned.

“Wait. Why are you here?!”

“I never left.”

“You… what?”

“I stayed at the agency. Figured I’d come back after you thought I was gone. Catch you red-handed.”

“You liar!”

He turned toward you, his frustration subsiding.

“You’re not even a good liar! You went full fake goodbye mode this morning! You even left me mango sticky rice!”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I knew you’d snoop around and start being reckless the second you thought no one was watching.”

Your cheeks puffed up again. That damn pout.

“I was just nesting,” you mumbled.

“Nesting doesn’t involve deadlifting half a closet,” he shot back. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

“…I thought you were in Korea.”

“Yeah, well, again, surprise.”

You blinked up at him again, eyes soft now, overwhelmed. “…You really stayed just for me?”

When he sets the boxes down, he exhaled and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “You really thought I’d leave you alone on our anniversary? Pregnant? Carrying boxes? Eating dessert by yourself? What do you take me for? A shitty husband?”

You hit his chest weakly.

“You’re so unfair,” you muttered.

“I know,” he grinned. “And I love you.”

You melted then. Completely.

Wrapping your arms around him, your bump pressing into his stomach, you buried your face in his chest and whispered: “I love you too, you dramatic maniac.”

That night, there was no flight. No press. No conference.

Just takeout on the couch, your feet in his lap, mango sticky rice on your plate, and his hand splayed across your belly like a homecoming gift.

Bakugou may have missed a headline.

But he made the right choice.

And that mattered more.

2K notes · View notes

itgetzweird08 · 11 months ago

Text

“You shouldn’t be up this late”

Bakugo’s voice whispered, filling the silence in the dorm kitchen. He was right, and usually you weren’t. You valued your sleep, often being one of the first in the class to call it a night. But tonight was different. Your thoughts, your heart, were restless. Despite following your nighttime routine, which was curated specifically to help you wind down and rest, you still found yourself tossing and turning. Not even your ocean sounds could help you drift to sleep. Thats why when Bakugo spoke, you sighed heavily and let your shoulders droop.

“Yeah. I know.”

He took a few steps toward you, leaning against the countertop. “So what’s got you awake?” You shrugged at him, watching the water in the electric kettle begin to form small bubbles. “Dunno…just can’t sleep I guess.” You looked over to him, taking soft note of his tired eyes and disheveled hair. “And you? You aren’t usually awake at this time either.” He shrugged right back at you. “Dunno…can’t sleep I guess” he echoed your words, and it made you smile just a bit.

You both knew why the other was awake, or at least you both had some inkling. Between how the ambush attack played out and Midoriya running away, neither of you have had time to really process all of what has gone on. You haven’t had time to think about how your lives had been flipped one eighty. But since Midoriya was back safe and sound, and there was no real information on the League or their next move, everything was at a standstill. That meant your brain was finally coming up to speed on what had gone on recently…and it was overwhelming. It felt like your mind was in over drive, thinking so many thoughts at once that it was causing you to lose sleep.

“…There’s a lot of water in this kettle. Would you like some tea?” Bakugo didn’t answer, just walked over to the mug cabinet and grabbed both of your designated mugs. Yours had your hero insignia, and he had his. It was Nezu’s Christmas gift for all of the hero course students. Bakugo opened the tea drawer, grabbing you each a packet of sleepytime zen tea before walking back over to you. You worked in silence then, enjoying each other’s company as you made your own cups.

Your relationship with Bakugo was unique. You admired him, even when he was a bit of an asshole at the beginning of the school year. You’ve enjoyed watching him grow and working beside him as a teammate. You were inspired by his tenacity and drive. You liked how smart and witty he was, and how he could be funny even when he didn’t realize it. It also didn’t hurt that he was actually pretty cute. And all of the same things went for you in his eyes. He admired your kindness and your courage. He was inspired by the way you had such a big heart but you were no push over, standing up to him when he got too rough with his words or during training. In his eyes, it was like you were one of the only people to give him a chance, getting to know him past his rough exterior. You two had gotten closer during the year, training and studying together sometimes. You began to sit next to him for lunch, stealing small pieces of chicken from his plate while he stole beef from yours. You were the only one with that privilege. Eventually, you became this unlabeled, unspoken thing. You didn’t have to confess your feelings because he knew, and you knew how he felt about you even if he’s never admitted it.

You softly sipped your tea, allowing the warm liquid to run down your throat and causing you to sigh. He stirred his own cup, watching the spoon go around and around. Technically, there was nothing else for you two to do in the kitchen. Technically, you could’ve parted ways right here and drank your own cups in your rooms. But you couldn’t bear to leave him. Deep down, you both didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Bakugo?” He looked up as you said his name. “Could I sleep over in your room tonight? I don’t think I want to be alone”

All he did was scoff, pick up his mug and began walking towards the staircase. When he realized you weren’t following, he scowled and turned to look at you.

“Let’s go brat. I’m missing out on my beauty sleep”

Part two

—————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

6K notes · View notes

hanniewho · 4 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ Vivid Dreams𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You told your roommate about your vivid dreams, but now you don't think it's a dream anymore.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I'm sorry for not posting for a few days. I got caught up with my graphic design project, and I had to walk around the city to take pictures, and my feet are killing me. I'll answer some of you guys' request ASAP 🙏

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.0k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Creampie, Overstimulating, Fingering, Degrading, Name calling (slut), P in V, Squirting, Slapping, Slight choking in you squint, Manipulation, Telling her that you love her as she fuck you w/o your consent, Porn mentioned, Spitting. (Lmk if I miss anything :3)

⋆✦ Pairings:Pitfighter g!p Vi x Afab reader and a bit of jinx(your roomie)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

"You know, I've had the strangest dream again," you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your roommate, Jinx, barely glanced up from her book, a non-committal "Mm-hmm" her only response as she flipped a page.

"It's always the same, you know? This...this woman with the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. She's powerful, dangerous even. And she keeps telling me things I don't understand." You paused, watching Jinx's reaction, hoping for something, anything that suggested she was actually listening. But her gaze remained glued to the book in front of her.

"Jinx, are you even listening to me?" you sighed, a hint of frustration tinting your voice.

Your roommate, Jinx, looked up from her book with a sheepish grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but return the smile. "It's fine," you said, standing up from your bed. "It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me anyway." You walked over to the small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cabinets for a snack to curb the early morning hunger pangs. The apartment was silent except for the faint rustle of pages turning as Jinx went back to her book.

As you pulled out a box of crackers, she looked up, suddenly alert. "Oh, uh, hey, have you had someone over last night?" she asked, her tone casual but the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach, crackers in hand, and turned to face her. "What? No, why?"

Jinx's cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red as she hastily closed her book. "Well, uh, it's going to be awkward, but last night when I was fixing my gun, I heard some... sounds coming from your room." She paused, searching for the right words, then blurted out, "It sounded like you were having sex, or I- ARE YOU WATCHING PORN?" The accusation hung in the air, awkwardness thickening like smoke in a closed room.

You stared at her, crackers forgotten in your hand. "What? No, I was just sleeping!" you protested, feeling your own cheeks grow hot. "What makes you think that?"

Jinx bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. "Well, it's not every night I hear someone going 'plap, plap, plap' in there," she said, mimicking the sound with a teasing smirk. "It's like someone's slapping a fish around or something."

You furrowed your brows, utterly confused by her accusation. "Jinx, I was alone. I swear," you said, your voice firm. "It's probably just the pipes or something." But even as you said it, doubt began to creep in. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. Could it be more than just your subconscious playing tricks on you?

Jinx's smirk faltered, and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing you skeptically. "You sure?" she pressed, her curiosity not quite satisfied.

You nodded, setting the crackers on the counter. "Positive," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "I was just sleeping." But the memory of the dream washed over you again, the feeling of fullness and the sound of your own voice crying out in pleasure echoing in your mind. It had been so intense, so real, that you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a vivid fantasy.

Jinx leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued. She tapped her chin with a finger, her eyes drifting off into the distance as if piecing together a puzzle. "So, about your dreams," she began, pausing to gauge your reaction. "What really happened?"

You turned to face her, the memory of the dream still lingering in your mind. The woman from your dream, her eyes so intense and filled with passion, had felt so real. "It's nothing," you replied, trying to brush it off, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain.

Jinx's eyes searched yours, and she leaned forward, placing her book aside. "Look, if something's going on, you can tell me," she said gently. "You know I'm not going to judge."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you. "It's just...it's so weird. In the dream, she was...doing things to me," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And it didn't feel wrong, or scary. It just felt...good."

Jinx's gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Dreams are just that - dreams," she assured you, her voice soothing. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. You hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even your closest friends. But there was something about Jinx that made you feel like you could trust her with the darkest of your secrets. So, you decided to take a risk and opened up. You recounted the dream in detail, the way the mysterious woman had taken you in her arms, the sound of her breath against your neck, the feeling of her hips grinding against yours. Jinx's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt, just nodded along, listening intently.

When you finished, you felt both relieved and embarrassed. You avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the crackers you hadn't realized you were still holding. "It's just so... intense," you murmured, fidgeting with the box. "I don't even know who she is, and yet she's all I can think about."

Jinx was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then she leaned in, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, what does she look like?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice.

You described the woman from your dream: her short, spiky hair, the muscular physique that spoke of strength and agility, and the piercing gaze that had you feeling both vulnerable and safe. As you talked, Jinx's expression grew thoughtful. "Hmm," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I might know someone who fits that description."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you turned to face her fully. "What? Who?"

Jinx's grin grew wider as she leaned back in her chair. "My sister," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Vi. She's got that same look in her eyes when she's... concentrating. And she's definitely got the moves."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Vi. The woman from your dreams had the same name as Jinx's sister? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? "Vi?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your sister?"

Jinx nodded, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Yeah, you know, the one who's always breaking down doors and causing a ruckus?"

You felt your cheeks flush hotter. "I-I don't know what to say."

Jinx leaned forward, her grin morphing into a smug smirk. "Well, if you're that interested, I might be able to arrange a meeting."

You stared at her, your heart racing. "What? No, I didn't mean..." You trailed off, your thoughts tangling in a mess of excitement and anxiety. "It's just that the dreams are so intense," you protested weakly.

Jinx's smirk grew knowing. "Intense, huh?" she said, her tone teasing. "Well, if you're ever curious about the real deal, you know where to find her. But maybe you should tell her you're a fan first."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "I don't know if I could handle that. Besides, it's just a dream," you said, trying to convince yourself more than anything. But the way Jinx's eyes gleamed with mischief had you wondering if there was more to the story.

Jinx shrugged, picking her book back up. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone light. "But if you ever change your mind, just let me know."

The rest of the day was a blur. You couldn't concentrate on your classes or your studies, your mind a tumult of thoughts and sensations from the dream. Was it possible that Vi, the woman from your dreams, was actually Jinx's sister? And if so, what did that mean? Was your subconscious playing a cruel trick on you, or was there some deeper connection at play?

That evening, as you lay in bed trying to fall asleep, the memory of Vi's powerful embrace consumed you. You felt the ache between your legs, the same ache that had been present every time you woke up from the dream. It was maddening, and yet you couldn't ignore it. The desire grew stronger, and before you knew it, your hand was moving under the covers, exploring the wetness that had gathered there.

You opened your eyes to the darkness of your room, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears. The dream had been so vivid, you could almost feel the weight of Vi's body on top of you, her strong thighs pressing into yours as she moved in a rhythm that was both fierce and tender. The sensation grew more intense with each passing moment, your hips bucking against the pressure of your hand.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light, and you gasped as the figure from your dreams leaned down and kissed you hard. "Oh fuck, you're awake," she murmured against your lips, her voice a gruff whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. It was Vi, just as you had imagined, her short hair a wild mess around her face, her eyes glinting with a mix of surprise and desire.

You stared up at her, heart pounding in your chest. This couldn't be real, could it? You tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Vi pulled back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words. She was really here, in your room, her body pressing down on yours, her cock still inside you. You felt a mix of fear and excitement, unsure how to react.

Vi studied you for a moment before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "I see," she murmured, her eyes darkening. "You liked it, didn't you?"

Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your hips moving slightly, the friction of her cock still buried inside you sending waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't deny it, not with the evidence of your own arousal so clear. "I-I don't know," you stuttered, but the words lacked conviction.

Vi leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow," she whispered, a hint of a threat in her voice that only served to excite you further. Her hand slid down your body, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped, your eyes widening with surprise.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks - this wasn't a dream. This was really happening. You felt the weight of her body pressing down on you, the solidity of her cock still embedded deep inside you. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, and you could feel your own wetness mixing with hers.

Vi took your silence as consent, her smile growing more wicked. "Good," she murmured, and began to move again, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as she filled you up, the sensation of being claimed by someone so strong and dominant overwhelming.

Her hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that was palpable. Each touch sent sparks of electricity through your nerves, making you squirm and gasp beneath her. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but instead of fear, a heady mix of desire and excitement took over.

Vi's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze stealing your breath away. "You're so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice a gravelly growl that resonated deep within you. The way she said it, it didn't feel like a lie or a line; it felt like a truth she had discovered and couldn't help but voice.

Your body responded to her words, your muscles tightening around her cock. She groaned, her grip on your hips tightening as she pushed deeper, her movements becoming more urgent. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had this effect on her, this powerful, almost mythic figure from your dreams.

Her hand slid up your body to cup your breast, her thumb flicking over your nipple. You arched into the touch, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

As she picked up the pace, you felt your orgasm building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel her own need, the tension in her body as she held back, drawing out the moment.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you tried to anchor yourself to reality. But it was no use; you were lost in the haze of pleasure that Vi was creating. Her movements grew more erratic, her breathing ragged as she approached her climax.

You felt your own orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach. You didn't know if you could handle this, didn't know if you wanted to. But your body had a mind of its own, responding to her touch like it had been starved for it.

Her hand slid down to the juncture of your thighs, her fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub it in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her cock. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. You could feel your muscles clench around her, desperately trying to hold onto the sensation, to keep her inside you forever.

Vi's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice strained. "You're so tight, so wet." The words only served to fuel your desire, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet her thrusts, your body begging for more.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers filled the room, a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a storm of sensation building inside you, ready to break.

Vi's hand on your clit was like a masterful conductor, guiding you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke was precise, each touch a masterpiece of pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching. Her teeth grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you knew you were moments away from the most powerful climax of your life.

Your body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. With one final, deep thrust, Vi sent you over the edge, and you screamed out her name, the sound muffled by the pillow you had shoved into your mouth to stifle the noise. The pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around her, clenching her cock like a vice.

Vi's own orgasm followed closely behind, her hips bucking wildly as she filled you with her release. You could feel the heat of her seed inside you, a strange, primal sensation that only added to the intensity of the moment. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in your ear, and you realized with a start that she was whispering your name, her voice filled with a raw emotion that didn't quite match the cold, calculating demeanor she usually had.

As your body began to relax, she leaned back, her eyes never leaving yours. With a sudden movement, she pulled out of you, making you gasp with the sudden emptiness. Before you could react, she brought her hand down in a harsh slap across your pussy, the sound echoing in the silent room. Your eyes snapped open, and you jolted at the unexpected pain and pleasure that shot through you.

Vi smirked, watching the shock play out across your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Her hand hovered over your sensitive flesh, and you held your breath, waiting for the next slap. "I said, did you like it?" she pressed, her voice low and demanding.

You nodded, unable to form the words. The sting of her hand had sent a jolt of pleasure through you that was almost unbearable. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

"So, you liked that, huh?" Vi's smirk grew wider as she watched you squirm beneath her. She slapped your pussy once more, this time a bit harder, and you gasped aloud. "You're going to get used to this," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "Being used like a cumdump by a girl you never even knew existed."

Your eyes watered from the pain, but the ache between your legs grew stronger. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she had taken you without your consent but finding yourself desperate for more. "Vi," you whimpered, not knowing what else to say.

"That's right," she said, her voice low and smoky. "Call me by name, let me know who owns you now." Her hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. "Open your mouth, pretty girl," she ordered, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement.

You obeyed, your mouth opening slightly, unsure of what was to come. Vi leaned down, her spit glistening in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. With a flick of her tongue, she sent a wad of saliva into your mouth, watching as you closed your lips around it. The taste was surprisingly warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Swallow," she demanded, her grip on your chin firm. You did as you were told, the act strangely intimate and degrading all at once. Her saliva slid down your throat, leaving a trail of wetness that seemed to echo the wetness between your legs. Vi's eyes never left yours, her gaze a mix of challenge and triumph.

The reality of what had just happened began to sink in. You had been taken by your roommate's sister, a woman you had only ever dreamt about, while you were unconscious. It was a violation, a betrayal, and yet your body sang with satisfaction. You were torn between anger and a desperate need for more.

Vi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop?" she whispered, her voice a dark caress. You hesitated, the words on the tip of your tongue, but the truth was that you didn't. You were scared, yes, but also unbearably turned on. You bit your lip and shook your head, and Vi's grip tightened. "Good," she murmured, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

With that, she slammed back into you, her cock filling you completely. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling of being stretched to your limits sending shivers down your spine. Your nails dug into the bedsheets as she began to fuck you with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and lust. You had never experienced anything like this before, and yet you found yourself craving it, your body moving in time with hers as if you had been doing this for years. You felt like a ragdoll in her powerful grip, utterly at her mercy.

Vi's hips ground into you, her movements unrelenting as she claimed your body over and over again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core, making your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensations, but all you could do was feel. Feel her, inside you, dominating you.

Her hand found your throat, her thumb pressing against your pulse. "Look at me," she whispered, her voice a hoarse demand. You opened your eyes, meeting her intense gaze as she continued to fuck you, her thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the roughness of her movements.

The pleasure grew, a crescendo of sensation that you couldn't fight. You felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, and you whimpered, your body desperately seeking release. Vi's eyes never left yours as she drove you closer to the edge, her own breathing growing heavier, her strokes more erratic.

Her thumb pressed harder against your throat, and the sudden rush of fear only heightened the pleasure. You could feel your heart racing, your body responding to the mix of pain and pleasure in a way that was almost primal. "Beg for it," she growled, her voice thick with need. "Tell me you want it."

Your voice was hoarse from the gag of pleasure, but you managed to force out the words. "Please," you whimpered, "I want it."

Vi's grin grew wider, the power in her gaze never wavering. "Good girl," she purred, her hand tightening around your neck, the pressure just shy of painful. "You're going to come for me now."

Her words were a command, and your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crest over you like a wave, your muscles clenching around her cock as you were consumed by the most intense pleasure you had ever felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, a keening cry escaping your lips as you shuddered beneath her, the sensation of her thumb on your throat only amplifying the intensity.

As the climax washed over you, you felt a sudden gush of wetness, your body squirting out a warm jet that soaked the bedsheets and made Vi gasp in surprise. She stilled for a moment, her eyes going wide before a grin of pure satisfaction spread across her face. "Fuck," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You really are something else."

You lay there, panting and trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through you. Vi leaned down, her breath warm against your neck, and whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." Her teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand left your throat and slid down to your clit, her fingers beginning to rub it in a slow, teasing circle.

You moaned, your body already responding despite the fear and confusion clouding your mind. "No," you managed to gasp out, pushing feebly at her chest. "It's too much, I can't..."

Vi just chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You think I care?" she murmured, her eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. She slapped your pussy again, harder this time. "I didn't ask if you could take it," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied, and you're going to take it all."

You whimpered, your body already beginning to respond to the mix of pain and pleasure. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help the way your hips lifted to meet her hand, the way your breath hitched in anticipation of the next blow.

Vi's grin grew, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're going to be such a good little slut for me." She slapped you again, the pain making your vision swim before pleasure flooded your senses, your body arching off the bed.

Her fingers slid back inside you, pumping in and out with a rhythm that was relentless and punishing. You could feel her knuckles brushing against your clit with each thrust, sending sparks of sensation shooting through your body. You moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed to your face.

As the pleasure mounted, you felt something inside you snap. The words you had held back for so long, the words you never thought you'd say to someone like Vi, tumbled out of your mouth. "I love you," you whimpered, the confession weak and pathetic.

Vi's movements stuttered, her eyes widening with shock. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze above you, the hand that had been so brutally claiming you going still. Then, she leaned down, her voice a low rumble. "What did you say?"

You repeated the words, your voice stronger now, though still a whisper. "I love you, Vi." It was the truth, and you didn't know why it was, but it was as clear to you as the moon outside your window. The woman who had just violated you in the most intimate way possible had somehow stolen your heart in the process.

Vi's expression softened, her eyes searching yours for a sign of deception. But all she found was raw, desperate need. Her hand stilled on your clit, her cock still buried inside you. "You don't know what you're saying," she murmured, though there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

You shook your head, the tears of pleasure blurring your vision. "I do," you insisted, your voice a broken whisper. "I love you, Vi. I don't know why, but I do."

Vi stared at you for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or fear. But all she saw was the truth of your words, reflected back at her in your glassy gaze. With a groan that was almost a growl, she leaned down and claimed your mouth with hers, her kiss brutal and possessive.

Her tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your submission as she began to fuck you once more. Each stroke was deep and hard, a declaration of ownership that resonated through your very soul. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Vi's hand slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up to meet her thrusts. The angle was perfect, sending her cock deeper with each powerful push. You felt the head of her cock brush against your g-spot, the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. "Mine," she growled against your lips, claiming you in every way possible.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as she ravaged you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and her grunts of effort. It was a symphony of lust and dominance that you never wanted to end.

You gripped the headboard tightly, the wood digging into your palms as you tried to hold on to something, anything, in the face of the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she drove into you, you felt like you were being split apart, only to be put back together with a new piece of her embedded deep within you.

Her hand left your ass to wrap around your throat again, the pressure increasing slightly as she pulled back, only to slam into you with even more force. You could feel her getting closer to her own release, her body tensing and her breathing growing ragged.

With a whine of desperation, you reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from your throat and instead guiding it to your chest. You needed more, something to anchor you to the world as your body was lost in the maelstrom of pleasure she was creating.

Vi's hand complied, cupping one of your breasts roughly. You moaned into her mouth, feeling her palm against your sensitive flesh, the calloused pads of her fingers grazing your nipple. The feeling was almost too much, your body already on the edge of another orgasm.

With a growl, she broke the kiss, moving her mouth down to your neck. She bit down, hard enough to leave a bruise, and you couldn't help the whine that escaped your throat. She soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, her teeth scraping against your skin as she moved to your collarbone.

Her hand squeezed your breast, her thumb flicking your nipple in a way that sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You felt the pressure building again, your body responding to her every touch, her every move. It was like you were a marionette, and she held all the strings.

Vi's rhythm grew more erratic, her breathing harsher, and you knew she was close. You tightened your legs around her, pulling her deeper, silently begging for her to let go. You felt the head of her cock pulse inside you, and the pressure was too much to bear. With a scream that was muffled by the pillow, you came again, your body shaking with the force of it.

This time, the orgasm was accompanied by a gush of wetness that soaked the bed and spattered her face. Vi chuckled darkly, her hand coming down to pat your pussy gently as if she were praising a pet that had performed a trick. The sensation was strange, almost tender amidst the harshness of her fucking, and you squirted again, the warm liquid hitting her cheek and mixing with the sweat already there.

Vi's strokes grew harder, more demanding, as she neared her own climax. You could feel her cock swelling inside you, her hips slamming into yours with a force that was almost painful. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure grew too intense to handle, your teeth digging into the pillow to keep from screaming.

Suddenly, she pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. You looked up to see her stroking her cock, her eyes never leaving yours. "You want me to cum inside you?" she asked, her voice a mix of challenge and temptation.

You nodded, unable to find the words to answer. Your body was on fire with need, and the idea of feeling her fill you up was almost too much to bear. Vi's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in, lining herself up with your entrance. With one final, powerful thrust, she sank back into you, her cock pulsing as she reached her climax.

You felt the warmth of her release flood you, filling you completely. It was a strange feeling, one that was both humiliating and thrilling. Your body was no longer your own; it was hers to use and abuse as she saw fit. And as she emptied herself into you, you realized that you had never felt more alive.

Vi pulled out slowly, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. You felt the emptiness keenly, your body already missing the feeling of being filled by her. She sat back on her haunches, her chest heaving, and looked down at you with a smirk. "You're mine now," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Before you could react, she leaned down, her hand moving between your legs. You felt a finger slide into your pussy, and then she was scooping out the cum that had leaked out, her gaze never leaving yours. The act was strangely intimate, a claiming of your body's response to her. She brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes never breaking contact as she licked the cum from her finger with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You taste so sweet," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I can't wait to have more." The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and anticipation. You had no idea what she had planned for you, but you knew it would be intense.

You looked up at her, trying to gather the strength to protest. "Vi, please," you gasped, your voice weak and trembling. "I can't take any more."

But Vi just smiled, a wicked glint in her eye. She leaned down, her face inches from yours, and began to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses. Each one was like a butterfly's touch, light and feathery, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking she had just given you. She kissed your eyelids, your nose, the tip of your chin, her lips moving with a tenderness that was almost tender.

Her hand continued to play with your sensitive folds, her thumb circling your clit lazily. "You're so beautiful when you come," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "I could watch you all night."

The gentle touch was too much, your body already overwhelmed with sensation. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for. Whether you wanted her to stop or keep going, your words hung in the air, a silent plea for mercy.

Vi's eyes searched yours, the smirk slowly fading into something softer. She leaned closer, her thumb still circling your clit with a maddening gentleness. "Can I- can I kiss you?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

For a moment, she seemed surprised, the tenderness in your voice reaching something deep within her. Her hand stilled, and she looked at you, really looked at you. Then, with a nod, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and searching. It was a stark contrast to the brutality of the past moments, a kiss that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises and dark secrets.

Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You tasted the salt of her sweat, the tang of your own arousal on her mouth. It was a heady mix that only served to heighten your need for her. Vi's hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, you forgot about the pain, the fear, the confusion. There was only the two of you, lost in a passion that seemed to burn brighter than the sun. Your bodies melded together, moving in a silent dance that spoke of a connection that went deeper than just flesh and bone.

Vi's thumb began to move again, her gentle strokes sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned into the kiss, your hips lifting to meet her hand. She broke away, her breath hot against your cheek as she whispered, "Do you want more?"

You shake your head, "I really can't." Your voice was barely audible, a soft protest against the onslaught of desire that was consuming you. But Vi was insistent, her hand moving faster, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You're stronger than you think."

Your breathing grew more ragged, your chest heaving as you struggled for air. The room felt like it was spinning, the pressure building inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. You could feel the blood rushing to your head, the world going dark around the edges. "Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm gonna pass out."

But she just chuckled, her eyes never leaving yours. "Not yet," she murmured, her thumb moving even faster. "I want to watch you come one more time."

Your body was on the edge, teetering between agony and ecstasy. You couldn't take it anymore, but somehow, you also couldn't get enough. Vi's thumb was a brand on your clit, her hand moving with a precision that seemed to know every secret of your body. You felt the pressure building again, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Come for me," she whispered, her voice a dark caress. "Come for me, my little slut." The words sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, and with a scream that you didn't recognize as your own, you did. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing as the orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You felt yourself tightening around her hand, your pussy clenching and pulsing as you spasmed beneath her. Vi's eyes were alight with triumph and hunger, watching the show she had orchestrated with a greed that was almost palpable. She didn't stop, her thumb still working your clit as you rode the waves of pleasure.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Your toes curled and your nails dug into the bed, the fabric tearing beneath your grip. The room was a blur of sensation, your thoughts scattered to the four winds as you lost yourself in the feeling of her hand on you.

Vi's thumb didn't relent, the steady rhythm keeping you on the edge of the cliff, unable to pull back from the precipice. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as she pushed you further than you had ever gone. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "Please, I can't."

But she just grinned, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "You can," she whispered, her breath hot against your cheek. "You're going to come for me until I say stop."

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the world going fuzzy around the edges. You couldn't take much more of this, you were sure of it. Each stroke of her thumb was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into your very soul. But as much as your body protested, it also craved more. The pleasure was an addiction, and Vi was your dealer.

Her hand was relentless, the strokes coming faster now, the pressure increasing until you thought you might shatter. You felt another orgasm building, a monster in the depths of your core that threatened to consume you. "No," you moaned, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, no more."

But Vi wasn't listening, her eyes locked onto yours, her expression one of pure, unbridled lust. She leaned down, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of her hand. You could feel her smile against your lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The pressure built, your body a tight coil of pleasure and pain. You felt yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision going dark. "Vi," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't..."

But she was unrelenting, her hand moving faster, her thumb a blur against your clit. You felt yourself falling, the world around you fading into a sea of sensation. You tried to hold on, to keep your eyes open, but it was like trying to grasp at water. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, dragging you under and leaving you gasping for air.

As the pleasure consumed you, your vision went dark, the room spinning out of control. You felt yourself slipping away, the last of your strength leaving you. Your body went limp, the tension draining from your muscles as the world grew quiet. The only thing you could hear was the distant sound of your own ragged breathing.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the uncomfortable weight of your clothes. You were fully dressed, your pajamas sticking to your sweat-soaked skin. The bedsheets beneath you were new and clean, the smell of fresh laundry filling your nose. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, a twisted nightmare that had felt all too real. But then you felt the ache between your legs, the sticky mess that was a testament to what had just transpired.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. Your body was sore, a delicious reminder of the relentless pleasure Vi had wrung from you. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant echo of the city outside your window. You knew you had to face the music, had to tell Jinx what had happened. So, you took a deep breath and slowly slid off the bed.

Your legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath you, but you managed to stay upright. Each step towards the door was a battle, your body still pulsing with the aftermath of your encounter. You didn't bother to smooth your hair or straighten your clothes; you knew that your disheveled state would be the first clue that something was amiss.

As you opened the door, the cool air of the corridor hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you fully awake. You stumbled into the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. Your heart was racing, your thoughts a chaotic jumble of lust, fear, and confusion. You had to tell someone, but who? Jinx was the only one you could trust, but how could you explain?

You could hear her laughter from the living room, the sound echoing down the hallway like a taunt. She seemed to be talking with someone, her voice a mix of amusement and something darker that you couldn't quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You had to tell her, had to make her understand what had happened.

As you stepped into the room, you saw Vi sitting on the couch, her legs sprawled out in front of her, looking as if she owned the place. Jinx sat next to her, a smug smile playing on her lips as she glanced up at you. "There you are, sleepyhead," she said, her tone mocking. "Soo, about yesterday when I told you about my sister, here she is!"

Jinx's elbow jabbed into your side, and she winked. "Well, have fun guys," she sing-songed, her voice dripping with mischief as she got up and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a snicker. You stared after her, your mind racing. What was she playing at? Did she know what Vi had done to you?

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sent a shiver down your spine. She had the audacity to smile, a smile that was both sweet and sinister. "Hi," she said, as if you were two strangers meeting for the first time. "Nice to finally meet you."

#ᯓᡣ𐭩han #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x you #vi x you #vi smut #dead dove do not eat

2K notes · View notes

pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 10 months ago

Text

When they call you clingy, so you distance yourself | Hyung Line Pt. 2

Warnings: Cursing

Pt1, Pt3 Maknaeline

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

BANGCHAN|

Chris groaned and put his head into his hands. He stared at the the screen in front of him.

8:28

He had decided to make today an early morning so he could call it an early night, but he wasn't even able to work on what he had actually intended to do because a trainee's mistake. Although he was heated in the moment he had apologized when he had run into the frightened guy in the canteen. It was an honest mistake when laptops looked exactly the same.

He had also realized that he was heated in the moment when you had come to visit him.

His fingers itched to text you an apology but he knew this was something that he needed to apologize for in person. So he shut his laptop and tucked it into his bag and decided to head home rather than starting a new project.

It was eating at his consciousness, the way he brushed you off so easily earlier just because of stress that had nothing to do with you. He reached over the couch in his studio to flick off the light.

A soft ruffling of fabric startled him slightly and he looked down to see your black coat draped over the couch of the same color.

"Its freezing." He mumbled grabbing it and quickly heading out of the building.

I was such a dick. She was so distraught she walked home in this weather without a coat.

Chris drove over to your apartment and parked haphazardly on the street. It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and a small part of him was worried about having something happen to his car, but he couldn't focus on that when he needed to focus on fixing things with you.

He pulled out his keys and found the small silver spare to your apartment.

"Baby?" Chris called out. He slipped off his shoes and he walked from the foyer into your kitchen, his black socks slipping a little on your freshly swept floors.

"Y/N?" Chris called out, flipping the light on in the kitchen. The box of trash bags was sitting on the counter and he placed them back under the sink. "Baby?"

Something was off. Chris felt it in his bones. He tried to steady his heart. Maybe you were asleep? If it wasn't to him, you tended to turn to your bed for comfort when you were sad.

He reached for your door handle out of habit of strolling into the guys room but paused to knock.

"Love?" He called out. He knocked for another minute or two, before turning the handle softly in case you were sleeping. "Baby, I don't know if your asleep but I'm coming in okay?"

Your room was empty, and the fairy lights you always kept on were off.

He flipped on the light and he felt his heart sink to his feet.

He immediately rushed out of your room and started looking through the cabinets and drawers and nooks and crannys of every other space.

Your apartment was bare minus the essentials.

In your guest room you had boxes neatly stacked in various places.

Chris felt tears crawl at his throat.

"Baby?" He tried calling out again. "Y/N this isn't funny! Say something!" He cried out.

He fumbled to grab his phone from his pocket.

His fingers shook as he called you.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

"No," He mumbled.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

"No," Chris mumbled. "No," He said again.

He felt his heart jump through his throat and he couldn't breathe.

His hands were shaking as he dialed up another number.

"Oi, Chris you coming home soon-"

"Fe-Felix." He choked out. He couldn't even continue without hyperventilating. "Fe-Felix I-I can't breathe. I-I can't-"

"I'm coming to you alright? I have your location I'll be there okay? Okay just try and calm down okay? I'll be there soon." Chris could hear the jingling of keys and the slamming of the door and Minho's voice in the background as Felix panted running to the car. "Stay on the phone Channie-hyung okay, I'll be right there."

"I-I can't breathe." He cried out.

"It'll be okay, I'll be right there hyung." Felix slammed his fist down on his car horn and yelled a string of profanities as another car blared their horn in the distance as well.

By the time Felix had arrived at your house Chris was an absolute mess.

Felix was instantly able to tell what was wrong with Chan when he saw the boxes and Chan desperately trying to unpack them.

"Hey-hey Chris calm down." Felix said as he grabbed onto his hyung's shoulders.

"S-She's leaving me." He cried out. "Felix, she's leaving me. She can't leave me. My heart -my heart can't take it. I don't want-want her to leave m-me."

Felix didn't know what to do as he watched his best friend completely shatter in front of him.

"Hyung I'm sure she is-"

"I-I called her clingy. I told her to leave me alone. I don't want to be alone." He whimpered. "I didn't mean it Felix. I didn't m-mean it." He whimpered his voice cracking. "I-I was stressed and-and I yelled- I called her ob-obsess- Felix, she can't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

Felix pulled out his phone and dialed your number. "Hyung calm down I'm sure she's just angry at the moment, it'll blow over. It'll blow over." He repeated as if convincing himself as well. He chewed on the edge of his thumbnail as your phone rang. Chris was collapsed on his and Felix pet his hair.

The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

Felix looked at the broken man in front of him and swallowed.

"It'll be fine. Y/N wouldn't break up with you over something like that, right?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

MINHO|

"Do you really think it was necessary to yell at her?" Changbin asked as the guys were walking through the market. You had opted not to join and rather hang out with some of the girls from TWICE who were also in Paris for the same event the Kids had came for. The only problem was you had opted to do that for the entire week. You all were flying home tomorrow and Minho hadn't seen more than a glimpse of you other than a few pictures the girls had posted on their fake accounts, and the few pictures you had posted on your private account.

"Why would it not be necessary?" Minho asked.

"Because you're pissed at something that wasn't even her fault." The shorter male said and he picked up a random little trinket to look at, it was a little heavy so he used it as a makeshift dumbell for a second.

"Ya, she quite literally ruined my entire plan."

Changbin looked at Minho like he had grown a second head. "How the hell was she supposed to know you were trying to propose to her?!"

Minho pursed his lips and turned away and started walking.

Changbin moved his tiny legs to catch up with the cat eyed member.

Felix crossed paths with them and joined the conversation.

"Minho-Hyung you've been miserable all week. Just swallow your pride and apologize."

"I have nothing to apologize fo-"

"Ya! No offense Hyung but you're being a fucking idiot!" Felix said. The two Hyungs of Felix recoiled and looked at the sunshiny Aussie. "Sorry for my tone Hyung but it's true. All she wanted to do was spend time with you because she loves you. And to her it seems like you got upset because you didn't to spend time with you. And you got upset with her because you planned a super elaborate and flamboyant proposal because you love her and you weren't able to execute it. So basically, you are both pissed at each other because you love each other more than anything in this world. So tell me how that makes sense at all?"

Changbin nodded. "He's not wrong at all you're kind of an idiot."

Minho sighed and pouted.

"Which means you need to be the one to apologize because Y/N-ie actually has reason to be mad."

Minho's pout became even more noticeable.

Ugh...apologizing.

Felix seemed to read his elder's mind.

"Its either apologize or ruin your relationship. While it is super easy to replan a propsal, it sure as hell won't be able to replan your future if she walks out on you."

Minho felt that hit his heart hard, but still wanted to be stubborn. "What do you mean easy to replan a proposal? I spent months planning the one I intended to do."

Changbin rolled his eyes. "Ya! Y/N might be your girlfriend but you seem to forget she was all of our friend first. And I sure as hell know she would not care how you proposed to her. Even if you just did it the traditional and plain way of getting down on one knee and saying 'Y/N...will you marry me?" Changbin said mimicking Minho's voice.

Felix shook his head. "No it'd be more like 'Y/N marry me. You have no choice."

"No- 'Y/N, my cats need a mom. You are now their mom.'"

"'Y/N, our wedding is next Friday. Don't be late. Wear white." The happy boy mimicked with a deadpan face.

Changbin and Felix's antics were the thing that made Minho laugh all week. And the levity he felt now was what he felt with you always. And that made the absence of you hit him even harder.

"Can we go back to the hotel? I want- no I need to apologize." He said suddenly.

Changbin sputtered. "Never thought I'd hear that come out of your mouth ever."

Minho playfully shoved Changbin into Felix as they headed back in the direction of the hotel.

"So how do you think you'll propos-"

"Minho-ssi!" The guys stopped and they noticed Chaeyoung running towards them.

Minho felt his heart dip for a second. "What is it?"

"I-I went to get Y/N-ie for a girls night out but she wasn't in her room so I figured maybe she just stepped out to the convenience store with Tzuyu or Momo but she wasn't with them when they came back and Tzuyu said the last time she saw her was this morning after we had brunch." Chaeyoung tried to steady her voice. "And I called her but my calls aren't going throu-"

Minho didn't give Chaeyoung time to finish before he started running.

He didn't know where he was going, he didn't even really know where to find you.

All he knew is that he had to.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

CHANGBIN|

"Y/N." Changbin said. "Jagiya!" You ignored Changbin as you walked into your apartment.

He followed ensuite and was pouting. "Jagiya please talk to me. It's been three weeks."

"Mmmm. Nah. I don't feel like being clingy today." You said as you set your purse down and headed towards your bedroom.

"C'mon please? It was a stupid argument. I'm sorry. I was just upset."

"Hmm. And I'm upset right now too." You said as you started digging through your closest. You pulled out a cute yet sleek dress.

The same dress you had worn on your first date with Changbin oh so long ago.

"Babe?" Changbin asked as he saw you rummage through things on your vanity.

"Red or Pink?" You asked allowed. "Or I guess the question is should I do a matte red or a glossy red?" You turned to Changbin and gave an innocent look at him. "I don't know which one makes me look better."

"Stop that! Thats not funny. At all." Changbin said as he followed you into the bathroom. He stayed planted in the same spot even as you changed, shutting his eyes respectfully until you finished changing.

"Where are you going? Why are you getting dressed up."

You pulled your hair out of the braided updo you had it in and let it fall over your shoulders in a beautiful mix of loose curls and evem looser waves.

Changbin couldn't help but admire just how beautiful you looked right now. Matter of fact you always looked beautiful, but Changbin couldn't help but stare. Since this was the longest he had seen you in the past three weeks.

And seeing you get ready and dolled up worried him. It sparked a jealousy in him that he found himself all too familiar with these past few weeks. It was partly the reason he had snapped at you in the first place.

He had thought it was just a stupid argument but right now it seemed like it was so much more than that.

And it was slowly killing him. Had he really hurt you that bad?

"Jagiya where are you going?"

You ignored Changbin as you touched up your makeup slightly, wiping off the clear gloss you had and favoring a glossy red lip instead. You grabbed your favorite perfume - and Changbin's favorite on you - and sprayed it delicately over yourself.

You looked at your watch and looked up at Changbin. "I have to go I'm meeting someone at five."

You grabbed your purse and Changbin grabbed your wrist.

"W-What do you mean you're meeting someone?" You snatched your wrist away from him gently and made your way towards your car.

"W-Wait Y/N it's not a date is it? You're not going on a date? Wait please tell me you aren't."

"Changbin I have to go. It would be a bad first impression if I was late."

"Can you please at least tell me where you are going?"

You huffed. "I'm going to that one coffee shop next to the karaoke bar? The one we always used to go to when you had first asked me out." You said as you were strapping on a pair of heels.

Changbin felt like his world was collapsing.

"No. We aren't breaking up you're not allowed to do that."

You looked at Changbin with a confused - what the fuck are you on - type look.

"Changbin you realize people have the free will to do whatever they want right? Thats like me telling you you're not allowed to go to the gym anymore."

"You're not breaking up with me Y/N." He said his voice starting to waver. "You can't."

"Yup, Bin." You said as you opened the door and walked to your car. "Lock the door behind you, would ya?" You called out over your shoulder.

The muscular man quickly locked your door and came to the drivers side.

"Y/N," He said tapping on your window.

"Changbin can you make this quick? Like I said being late is a bad first impression."

"Who cares about first impressions! Y/N you can't date someone else!" He cries. "It was an argument! Are you really breaking up with me over this-"

"Damn Changbin I'm no-" Your phones started to ring and you answered it.

Changbin pouted at you as you spoke. Trying his best to listen to the conversation.

"Hello..." Why'd she say hello like that? So nicely... "Yes, I'm on my way right now just leaving my house..." She's already on the stage of letting him know her whereabouts? "Haha no no of course not...yeah....haha!" What could he possibly be saying to make her laugh that much? Only I can make her laugh like that...well I guess Jisung too but mainly me! "Uh I'll just get an iced vanilla latte with all my modifications- just ask Jiwon she'll know...." They have mutuals? "Yeah I'll be there soon....Yep! Can't wait to meet you either...mkay bye!"

Changbin felt his heart constrict as he watched you hang up and start your car.

You gave Changbin a small wave and pulled off, your tires screeching a little as you drove.

He quickly went to follow you. You wouldn't leave him. He wouldn't let you. Because you meant the world to him.

And without his world he would be nothing.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

HYUNJIN|

It had been a few days since Hyunjin had felt like he had spent time with you.

Because while you had been in his presence physically he felt like you had something on your mind.

You weren't all up on him like you usually were. And he missed that. He also missed you asking him if he liked your outfits. He missed the little twirl you would do asking if you looked okay; he missed being able to look at you lovingly while you did so; he missed being able to wait a little bit before he could comment how striking you looked; that little pause in time just to assure that he would be the one who could see you in that specific outfit longer than anyone else you would run into or hang out with, even if it was mere seconds more.

The way every part of you took up every aspect of his life was something he was so used to that he longed for it when he couldn't have it.

And for the past eleven days he longed for it.

So bad.

He missed you.

"Do you think I did something wrong?" Hyunjin asked Jisung as they sat down enjoying a cup of coffee together.

"I'm assuming so because she's treating me just fine. We actually just went to the movies the other day. Some random guy tried to hit on her and she made a comment about his hairline and how it showed his age and that shut him down real quick. It was actually fucking hilarious the way-"

"Did she say anything about me upsetting her?" Hyunjin asked, interuppting Jisung's tangent about his trip with the most loved girl of the band.

"Mm...now that I think about it, she made a comment about some other idol. I forget who she was talking about but I remembered her saying you were talking to them because she was just standing there waiting for you to finish and thats why she decided to drink that one drink. Because she didn't want to...how did she put it...look pathetic? Yeah, I think thats what she said. And she said it was no use because she looked pathetic throwing up all over Bangchan." He took a sip of his coffee. "I actually thought it was funny because Chan was saying he was trying to find an excuse to not have to wear that one suit jacket anymore because it was-"

"Jisung you're getting off topic." Hyunjin sighed. "Did she seem upset when she said that?"

Jisung shook his head. "I wouldn't say she seemed upset when she was talking about finding a use for her hands. I think she looked...off afterwards though. Especially whenever your name came up in ocnversation." He looked at Hyunjin pointedly. "But that wasn't that often. She may be your girlfriend but she is my soulmate so we have our own issues to discuss." He said taking another sip of his coffee. "Like all the drama in Hybe right now. Did you see- wait I'm getting off topic."

Hyunjin frowned. "So it was something I did..." He mumbled.

Jisung sniffed once. "Yeah probably." He said scratching his ear. "I can ask her if you'd like me to."

"No I thinks it okay, I'll find time to talk to her."

"Well they say there is no better time than the present because look who just walked in." The chubby cheeked boy nodded his head somewhere behind Hyunjin.

He turned around and saw you walking in with Felix. You walked up to the counter but didn't notice Hyunjin or Jisung sitting there.

Felix greeted the barista and ordered himself a drink while you looked at the menu.

Hyunjin felt the tiniest - the most miniscule pang of jealousy but it was quickly washed away because he knew that you only had eyes for him. You guys hadn't celebrated your first anniversary yet - it was in four days -but he knew just how much you loved him and he loved you.

And just that - he knew how in love you were with each other.

And thats why it hurt him so much to think he had hurt you.

Felix finished ordering and turned to you. Hyunjin had expected you to tell him your order and for Felix to relay it back to the barista but instead you spoke in Korean - hesitantly - but still with an immense amount of effort and obvious intermediate skill.

Felix corrected you on a couple of words, but after a few motivational words from the barista - words you obviously understood - you shined a bright smile and laughed.

"Y/N doesn't speak Korean." Hyunjin turned to Jisung, and the small quokka like boy pouted slightly. "Jisung."

"I walked in on Y/N-ie and Felix-" He blurted out. "God, I've been keeping that secret so long." He let out a breath and looked at Hyunjin's shocked face.

"Walked...in...?"

Jisung put a hand to his forehead. "Sorry I didn't finish my thought. I meant that I like...walked in on them while he was giving her secret korean lessons." He said wiggling his eyebrows.

"Jisung you're not helping my paranoia."

"I was wiggling my eyebrows because of the reason. She said she wanted to learn Korean so when it came time to meet your family she would be able to communicate well with them. It seems like she's actually pretty damn good at it too. Shes a fast learner according to Felix."

Hyunjin groaned. "She's so fucking cute but of all people in our groups she decided to get lessons from Lix? Did she never watch the survival show." He chuckled.

"Yeah...I guess that means I can tell you the actual reason she's upset with you now right?" Jisung said.

Hyunjin's head shot up and he looked at the younger boy expectantly.

"She overheard you calling her clingy. With the idol and his girlfriend..." He looked down and his voice dropped a little. "Its been eating at her a lot. Especially the girl's comment about foreigners and stuff. She was a total bitch for saying that because now it's been making her rethink everything. Because she seems to be convinced that it would be best for your reputation and your future if she ended things with you."

Hyunjin felt his throat constrict slightly. "S-she didn't mean that. She doesn't mean that. She can't."

Jisung hmmed in acknowledgment. "Hyung...she has it rough you know? The pedestal people in our industry put you on - and even in other industries and other countries -is the pedestal you're put on by the same people she consistently is surrounded by when accompanying you. The same people who write all those hateful comments about her on your posts and send even more hateful comments to her private account."

Hyunjin's eyes widened, and his fingers twitched slightly. "What comments? She hasn't told me about any...hate...comments..."

Jisung sighed. "She doesn't want to worry you. And I think she believes those comments too...she can't think of anything else to believe."

Hyunjin felt a knot place itself in his throat to stay as he walked you watch out the coffee shop with Felix trailing you. The thought of your insecurities bothered him immensely. The thought of you thinking you weren't worthy of him when it was the complete opposite; when it was him who wasn't worthy of you. He wished you could see yourself the way he saw you.

And he wished you believed him when he said all the things said.

Believe me when I call you beautiful. When I say I love you...

And if you don't want to in me...

Believe in us.

3K notes · View notes