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xshadowdelta · 3 months ago

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FORMER MANAGER

PART 4: Like a tulip.

Kazuha x Male Reader (4K length)

Your hands were gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly, you were still in disbelief at everything that was happening, as if some divinity up there was playing with you for fun, and its enjoyment involved seeing you suffer every fucking moment of the day.

The red light of the traffic light forced you to brake and stop the car for a few seconds. You looked out of the corner of your eye towards the passenger seat, there she was, sitting looking out the window while the fingers of her hands played between them, showing a clear sign of nervousness. Kazuha Nakamura had become, without foreseeing it, the biggest headache of your entire life.

It's not that you had gotten used to sexual encounters with your former Iz*One members, but after what had happened in the last few days, you wouldn't have been surprised if a few more had arisen or even were going to arise in the future, since they seemed to be competing for you or something, something you hadn't been able to figure out yet.

But this totally escaped logic and compromised you enormously, you had in your car an idol whom you had never had under your tutelage, whom you did not know at all, and who had made you an irrational request, to say the least.

“Can you have sex with me the same way you have sex with Chaewon unnie?”

That phrase kept echoing inside your head. Despite your attempt to hide that 'professional opinion' session, it seemed that Kazuha had perfectly realized what you had done in that practice room.

You didn't even have time to make an excuse or a lie, you had been hunted in such an obvious way that denying it would only complicate this situation even more.

Before you could realize it and without even having accepted her request, you were already leaving the Hybe compound, but with more company than the one you entered with, thanking the gods that your company vehicle had completely opaque window glass.

Neither of you had spoken a single word during the journey, which made the atmosphere feel even more tense and heavier than it would normally be. You wanted to start a conversation or ask a question, but the words just wouldn't come out of your mouth.

“Turn right on that street.” She commented, pointing her finger in the right direction.

And this was another big problem: your destination place. You had really gotten into the car without a fixed direction in your mind. Should you take an idol to your house? Was that right? And what would happen if someone saw you on the street and treacherously took a photo? Could it be camouflaged as part of a television program? Was a hotel suitable? You didn't believe it, but if so, it must be one suitable for celebrities, something you couldn't afford.

You parked the car, following another signal from the girl, in one of the free spots and got out, going around it to reach the passenger door, doing a complete sweep of the area, and opening the door once there was not a single living being. in your range of vision.

Kazuha quickly left and, taking some keys out of her bag, opened the door of one of the buildings, giving you way and successfully completing the first checkpoint.

He called the elevator, and you both went up, still in pure silence. You looked at her through the elevator mirror automatically, she looked back at you through the mirror and blushed, she quickly looked away.

She left in terror when the elevator opened its doors again, yes, taking one of your hands, practically dragging you after her. Your nerves increased when you felt the softness of her hand, wasn't it crazy? Now you were behaving as if you were still a teenager going through puberty.

You entered the interior of one of the apartments, which looked large and spacious from the inside despite only seeing the hall for the moment. "Where are we?” You heard your own voice for the first time in a long time, wondering why she had brought you to that place.

“It's LE SSERAFIM's bedroom.” She answered, taking off her shoes.

Knowing where you were scared you to death, you were in unstable territory. Stepping into that apartment had to be the closest you're going to get to a war camp, with too many people who could come and go at any moment and catch you in the middle of the action.

“The rest of the members are very busy and won't come until the evening, and our staff doesn't usually barge in without warning.” It was certainly relaxing to know that, but still, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at any moment. Kazuha unexpectedly took your hand again and dragged you down the main hallway of the apartment, passing by the living room and the kitchen until you entered one of the bedrooms.

The bedroom itself was quite simple, some large beds pushed together, a small desk with a chair decorated with clothes and various junk on top, and a closet built into the wall. You diverted your gaze to the corners and blind spots of the room in search of possible cameras, it wouldn't be the first time that after recording one of those home realities they forget to remove them.

The girl was quick to turn on the light in the room and close the window despite it being broad daylight, seeking to create a more intimate and safe environment.

You turned around, looking around at the entire bedroom, paying special attention to the pile of clothes scattered on the desk chair. She noticed this and, embarrassed, ran there to put all those clothes in the closet in a disorderly manner.

“Sorry, Chaewon unnie and I were a little late this morning.” Great, so this bedroom also belonged to Chaewon.

“Kazuha-ssi, I think you've rushed into all this, I... we shouldn't be here. I'm flattered, really, but I don't think you're aware of what this means."

She walked towards you and took your hands in hers, looking into your eyes with that look that begged you.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I didn't know how. I'm too shy to approach some other random guy and propose this kind of thing out of the blue.” You laughed inside yourself, what she was saying had nothing to do with the spontaneous request she made to you. “I wanted to wait for the right moment and the right person.” Her fingers caressed the palms of your hands.

“I'm definitely not that person.” The expression on your face became more serious now. "You are!” She snapped loudly, making you step back in surprise. “I mean, I know Chaewon unnie very well. She wouldn't have done anything like that with you if she didn't have complete trust and deep respect for you, and that's more than enough for me.”

“But that's not how it should work, you shouldn't do this with some random guy you don't know at all like me, it should be with someone you love, someone you love from the bottom of your heart.” “You sound like the protagonist of a kdrama.” A small smile now graced her face. “Look, it's not that I'm a virgin, nor an expert, but I'm enough of an adult to know that I can have sex without commitment with whoever I want.”

The truth is that she was not wrong, perhaps you had seen too much fiction lately, after all, the vast majority of humans today had sexual relations guided more by vice and lust than by love.

You still had time to run out of there, you knew that she had nothing against you, she would never tell what she knew, and she loved Chaewon too much to harm her dear unnie. This was never about blackmail, just a favor, no one was forcing you to do anything.

That's what you told yourself internally over and over again.

‘This is not right.’

'Why don't my legs react?'

'I have to get out of here as soon as possible.'

'Fuck, she's beautiful.' Wait, what?

You stared at her for the first time in all this time, indeed, she was pretty and beautiful to look at, like a flower blooming in a beautiful meadow surrounded by huge green trees and a bright sun.

She was also attractive, you could see how well trained her body was. Her legs looked toned, and the lower part of her abdomen that did not cover her shirt was better worked than yours. She had an aura of tenderness and sensuality around her that was difficult to find.

Suddenly, in a burst of bravery, Kazuha raised her hands to your face, holding your cheeks to give you a small kiss on the lips. You wanted to resist, you really did, but who knows if, in order not to hurt her, you reciprocated that kiss by taking her waist with your hands.

“Everything you say is true, but also believe me when I say I want you to fuck me, oppa." She whispered against your lips.

"Kazuha, you're asking too much of me." Your lips were now moving unconsciously over hers.

"I don't think so." She chuckled, bringing one of her hands to your bulging crotch, gently caressing that area of your pants. She stood on her tiptoes to bring her mouth closer to your ear. "Don't you want to know how flexible I can be?” That whisper hit you squarely. It would have been a K.O. if we were in a boxing match. Your skin crawled just thinking and imagining certain scenarios, and the bulge in your crotch only grew under the touch of her delicate hand.

You let out a sigh, you sounded defeated, and you actually were. How could you be so fucking weak? Why were you trapped in a spiral of sex with gorgeous girls with beautiful bodies? And why were you martyring yourself for it when anyone would sign with their own blood to take your place? You didn't have the answer to any of those questions.

“Lie on the bed.” Despite your obvious annoyed tone, Kazuha's smile did not fade but rather widened, and she followed your instructions.

Immediately the Japanese idol was lying on her back, with her legs dangling from the edge of the bed, undoing the button on her jeans and slowly lowering them to your delight.

You knelt on the floor right in front of the bed, between her legs, starting to touch her thighs and going down her legs at the same time as her pants were going down.

You noticed how her skin stood on end under your hands, it burned, and you verified it with your own lips when you leaned your head over Kazuha's body, spreading a few kisses on the part of her abdomen that the shirt did not cover.

Her toned abs contracted as she felt your lips on them, your hands joined hers on either side of her legs, finishing off her pants in a single pull.

Your kisses marked a downward path towards the girl's panties while your hands took the opposite route, going from her legs to her hips, moving upwards slowly caressing every centimeter of skin.

A new piece of clothing was recognized as the next enemy, as your hands fisted the hem of her shirt. She understood quickly, and with an agile and quick movement, she slid the garment over her head and threw it away, landing somewhere on the floor of the room.

You kissed her pussy over the fabric of her panties making her moan, and then your tongue began to create lines of saliva before starting to move as if it were a normal cunnilingus.

Even though the panties continued to act as a barrier between your tongue and her pussy, the caresses you provided were felt on her body in a remarkable way, proof of this were the moans that Kazuha expelled from her mouth.

Her pussy was getting wetter due to the excitement, starting to leak down her thighs and even going through her panties, as your tongue began to enjoy the taste of the girl's intimacy.

You sat up a little and jumped on the bed, being careful with her delicate body so as not to hurt her, remaining on top of her, and going directly to kiss and lick her neck as an attack.

Her moans became noticeable again, with an increase in volume and much closer to your ears. However, she was a fighter, and although she seemed to be completely under your control, she managed to take off your shirt and expose your torso, which she did not hesitate to touch and caress.

You ceased the attack on her neck, moving back a little, allowing her to kiss your bare skin, causing you to sigh occasionally. You crouched over her again, kissing her lips deeply, taking her cheeks in your hands.

“Condoms?” You asked the instant the kiss broke.

She pointed out the nightstand next to the bed, and you jumped out of the bed again to approach the designated piece of furniture, opening it and finding a box of condoms still sealed.

You were opening it as you walked back, placing yourself in the starting position, facing her between her legs. You looked up and could see that there was no longer a trace of her panties.

You smiled, finally opening the package of condoms, taking one between your fingers, and placing it on the mattress. You needed both hands free to finish undressing completely.

Kazuha sat up slightly on the bed so she could look directly at your now-naked cock, opening her mouth shocked by its size and almost reflexively opening her legs wider, giving you a much better view of her wet and shiny entrance.

You placed one knee on the bed, bringing your penis closer to her vagina, one hand holding your dick firmly and the other gripping one of the young girl's pale thighs.

"Wait! The condom…OH!” Her words were interrupted by a violent moan.

She was right, you hadn't put on the condom yet, but you didn't need it for the idea you had in mind, which consisted of rubbing the folds of her pussy with your cock over and over again without actually inserting it inside.

That game seemed to take its toll on Kazuha, who was now trying to silence her sounds by putting both hands over her mouth and allowing you to play with her intimate area to your pleasure.

Your penis soon became well lubricated after being rubbed mercilessly by the wetness of the Japanese pussy, at which point you decided that it was now possible to start the real action.

Now you wrapped your penis in the latex of the condom to bring it closer to the female entrance again, this time with the intention of entering her. You looked one last time into Kazuha's eyes, waiting for one last step back that never came, quite the opposite in fact.

She placed her hands on her thighs, separating her legs as much as she could, leaving you amazed at her incredible flexibility and increasing your excitement as you witnessed that move.

The tip of your penis made contact with her vagina, making you both moan slightly, moans that increased as more inches entered her cavity.

As you expected, Kazuha's insides felt tight, although you had to admit that it was less than you had originally imagined, because the truth is that most of your cock entered without any problem. You gave her a few seconds for her insides to adjust to your size before you started moving.

You started to move slowly, moving in and out slowly and careful not to hurt her, but she seemed to be enjoying it.

“God, you're stretching me so much... It feels so good.”

That gave you the green light to increase the pace, your hips moved faster, introducing you deeper into her. At this point, her pussy was already able to swallow the entire length of your penis without problems.

Kazuha's moans quickly turned into pleas, letting her get carried away by excitement and asking you to go even further.

“AH! Please…more… AH…MORE!”

She raised one of her legs to your shoulder, leaving her foot at the height of your head, leaving the other still resting on the bed. That only deepened your attacks against her even more.

You wrapped your closest hand around the thigh of her leg that was hanging from you, and your other hand went behind her head, grabbing the back of her neck, bending over her, and moving at a hard and incessant pace.

Kazuha's intense moans were only stopped when your lips joined hers in a kiss, just as intense as the clash between your hips. Everything was so intense that tiredness immediately began to appear in you.

After a few more minutes of fun, you wanted to change positions, now lying on your back on the bed, motioning to the girl to sit on your lap with her back to you.

You kissed the back of her neck and her back as she got into position, turning her head for a moment and demanding another kiss on the lips that you didn't deny her.

She raised her body enough so that in one quick movement your cock entered deeply inside her again, causing a sensation of incredible pleasure in both of you.

The girl placed both hands on your thighs to begin jumping on your penis, again and again, without stopping and emitting sweet and erotic moans for each thrust that your cock gave her as it lowered her body.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her back, causing a small cry of surprise from her and causing her back to collide with your chest.

You once again had control of the situation, you once again imposed the rhythm of the penetrations to your liking and what was best for you.

From this position, you were once again able to attack Kazuha's neck at will, which for some reason had become one of your favorite regions of her body, and she seemed to love it too.

Your bodies were totally immersed in the heat of the moment, eager for each other's contact, roaring for sex, and sweating from the furious action, the temperature of the room had risen some degrees since you entered through the door.

Once again the idol raised her legs, surrounding them with her own arms, preventing them from falling, thus making your attacks clean and direct against her pussy, which you began to notice how it contracted, squeezing your cock against its walls, making you moan louder.

“Shit, Kazuha, your pussy...”

“Please don't stop now! I’m so close!”

Listening to the girl's request and with the aim of releasing yourselves sexually as soon as possible, you gave everything you had left, placing your hands on her butt and attacking her frantically, feeling how after some hard thrust you came brutally, filling the condom with your cum.

“AH! YES! OH GOD! AAAAAAAAAH!”

That liberating scream was followed by her body arching over yours, your hands quickly rising to her hips, pressing her against your body again, and leaving both of you gasping noticeably trying to recover from the intense orgasms.

Kazuha leaned her head back with her body resting on top of yours, trying to compose herself from the tremendous ecstasy you had made her feel. She turned her head to look into your eyes, just inches from your face.

“Now I can understand Chaewon unnie.” She murmured, offering you a soft smile, trying to hide her tired expression.

You, on the other hand, did not hide it at all, you continued searching for air almost desperately, and the fact of having her on top of you did not help, but the truth is that you were not going to complain about it.

“You are definitely very flexible.” You spoke, making her laugh softly, and then kissed her lips, passing your arms around her stomach area, surrounding and hugging her, lying there for a few minutes.

You left the group's apartment after making sure that Kazuha was in good condition. She said goodbye to you very happily, with her eyes giving off a special shine and giving you a small kiss on the cheek, making you both blush.

You drove back to your own house, a little rest wouldn't hurt to clarify all your ideas, but with a firm decision. You had to end your sexual encounters with idols immediately. That was obvious, but would you be able to cut it short? You assumed only the future would know for sure.

You entered your apartment, tired, extremely tired, but you still managed to find the energy to move your butt to the bathroom and get into the bathtub for a long half hour that left you almost as good as new.

You were now wearing your two-piece pajama with a shirt and pants, walking around the living room while drying your damp hair with a towel. You heard the sound of the doorbell, it seemed that the delivery man you had contacted had arrived to deliver your dinner. You put the towel aside, and with your hair still a little wet and messy that fell on your forehead, you approached the door.

You opened the door, but, to your surprise, the person on the other side was not who you expected. A young girl with black hair tied up in a bun, somewhat taller than average and with a slim but very elegant figure.

That girl seemed very familiar to you, the fact that she was wearing sunglasses late at night made it a little more difficult for you to recognize her, but you quickly realized it.

“Wonyoung…”

The sudden sound of a slap echoed throughout the house, silencing you. Your left cheek turned a reddish color at the same time as a burning sensation began to sting. Your face was now looking to the side due to the unexpected slap that the young woman had given you.

You took a step back, trying to stabilize your body so as not to fall, and directed one of your hands to the affected area of your face. Your eyes were wide open, as was your mouth, you didn't know what was happening, unable to understand anything.

When you returned to this world, you looked towards the door again, finding yourself facing the wall of the hallway.

You ran out of your apartment, finding Wonyoung a few meters later walking towards the exit of the building.

"Hey! Jang Wonyoung! What the hell do you think..."

You grabbed her arm, applying some force, without excess, to make her turn towards you, but your words fell into the void when you glimpsed her red face and how some tears formed a path from her eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses until they ended up on her chin.

She didn't say anything, you could only hear her weak crying and sobs that penetrated your soul and stabbed directly into your heart.

Still confused, you loosened your grip on her arm, and with that she got rid of you, setting off on her way again, but this time you didn't follow her, you stayed there, absorbed, with no other possibility than to see her back moving further and further away.

#kpop smut #male reader #smut #lesserafim smut #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader #lesserafim x reader

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senseofnewness · 8 months ago

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SILENT DEVOTION

pairing : patrick zweig x f!reader | art donaldson x f!reader | patrick zweig x tashi duncan | tashi duncan x f!reader

rating : explicit

word count : 17.6k

contains : smut 18+, obsession, delusion, stalking, jealousy, toxic relationship, vaginal sex, object insertion, masturbation, eating disorder, mentions of underage sexual awakening but nothing graphic until they’re all of age

summary : Patrick Zweig was your everything. For five years, you took every opportunity to get closer to him and learn everything about him, shaping yourself into the woman you believed worthy of his love, even as he remained unaware of your existence. But soon, he would notice you, you were determined to make sure of it.

Patrick Zweig had been a part of your life for as long as your older brother had been enrolled at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, yet you had never really noticed him before.

Though tennis had once held a special place for you in your childhood, the thrill that once accompanied the sport had long faded. Attending tournaments had gradually transformed into a dutiful obligation imposed by your parents in order to support your brother. Your brother, the prodigy who was flourishing in sports while you had yet to find an interest of your own. Sure, you found enjoyment in many activities, but none seemed to garner the same level of pride from your parents as your brother's accomplishments in tennis did.

Only at the age of fourteen did your life begin to find its true purpose. Your brother faced off another student on the court, and perhaps it was the hormonal changes in your body taking over your mind, but your attention fixated solely on that boy with a lanky figure with sharp features and captivating green eyes. His every move executed with an intensity that seemed to transcend the game itself. The confident smirk he wore as he claimed victory stirred something deep within you, so deep that it left you feeling physically unwell for the rest of the day. That night, the urge to relive the moment with your hand down your panties was so overpowering that you had barely slept.

You had attempted to inquire about him from your brother, but without much luck. He had simply shrugged with a sigh, still nursing the sting of defeat. "He's around fifteen, I guess. Comes from a wealthy family, the Zweigs. Why the sudden interest?" You found yourself crafting a tale, pretending to be unaware of Patrick's presence until now, expressing surprise at the notion of a newcomer joining the academy so late in the year.

You only caught glimpses of him a few more times that year. Each encounter filled you with eager anticipation, dressing in your most mature outfits, and accentuating your features with your mother's makeup, all in the hope of capturing his attention. Yet, despite your efforts, he remained immersed in the game, seemingly oblivious to your admiration. Even so, you held onto the belief that he might eventually look up during a set and acknowledge your support with a smile. However, he never did. Nonetheless, this didn't deter your teenage imagination from running wild, crafting fantasies of a future life together where he would confess he had loved you all those years. Then would come dating, then marriage and babymaking. Every detail meticulously mapped out in your mind.

●

You were now sixteen, and despite being only a year older than you, Patrick had morphed into a man. Or so the adolescent you were, thought so. Gone was the thin boy of the past. His body had doubled in size, with his biceps and thighs notably thicker. You couldn't resist imagining the sensation of being embraced by him, or sitting on his lap, and gently running your fingers through his dark curls. You hoped Patrick would also recognize the changes your body underwent over the summer. "Maybe you should pay a bit more attention to your diet." Your mother had suggested, her gaze lingering on your slightly rounded stomach. Sure, you didn't look as toned as you did when you were younger but you had breasts and hips now. Like a real woman. A woman worthy of Patrick Zweig's affection.

He was dominating the match, as usual. Or at least, that's what you believed. You weren’t really paying attention to what was happening on the court, but you knew for a fact that he had it all, looks AND talent. Plus, losers weren't your type.

Although no one was really your type except Patrick.

When the umpire announced the set break, you watched your Patrick walk to his chair and remove his shirt. You had to stifle a gasp in front of your parents, at the sight of him. You had seen your brother and father shirtless before, but it was nothing like it. His skin was smooth with freckles adorning his broad shoulders. His arms were slender yet defined, with muscles that showed his dedication to tennis. His toned stomach and firm abs were accentuated by a trail of black hair disappearing into his shorts. Following the line, you let your eyes linger a bit too long on his crotch. Your knowledge of the male anatomy was minimal, and you had never felt compelled to learn more until that instant. That thought made you cross your legs tighter and clutch your skirt in an attempt to keep the dampness forming in your underwear under control. His adjustment of his shorts only intensified the sensations coursing through your body.

After the match, you hastily excused yourself to the bathroom. The image of Patrick's hand gripping himself through his shorts played on repeat in your mind. Sometimes, you imagined your hand replacing his, or him touching you instead. It was enough to ignite a fire within you. After finding release, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, adjusting your skirt and shirt with care. The realization of what you'd just done hit you, doubts about your sanity creeping in. But the thought of sharing this story with him one day, perhaps after you're married, eased those worries and brought a smile to your lips. Feeling lighter and fulfilled, you exited the bathroom, only to come face to face with Patrick. His brief glance, meeting yours for a split second, sent a rush of excitement through you as he disappeared toward the locker rooms. Finally, he knew you existed. It was the best day of your life.

●

Upon hearing of his qualification for the US Open Junior Boys Doubles Championship in 2006, you were convinced you were supposed to go. He would want his future wife there to witness his victory, you thought to yourself, so, as always, you attended. For the doubles, he was paired with another young man who appeared to be around your age. While his face seemed familiar, you had never paid enough attention to the game to notice anyone else but your man. When Patrick hit the winner, the two boys leaped into each other's arms, shouting with joy, tumbling onto the court in an affectionate embrace. You couldn't deny the cuteness of the moment, but how you wished it were you he was wrapping his muscular thighs around and showering with kisses.

After the game, you wanted to congratulate Patrick but there was so much attention around him that you decided against it. You didn't want to share this moment, your moment, the moment he would lay eyes on you and fall in love with you, with anyone else. You weren't just one of his fans, you were the woman he was going to marry after all. Disappointed, you walked back to your hotel room. You knew that winning the doubles assured them a spot in the singles and that tomorrow was going to be THE day. The day you would reveal yourself to him. You knew he was going to win. He always did. You could already imagine yourself sharing the sweet memory of falling in love with Patrick on the day he became a US Open champion with your friends, or even with your kids in a few years.

The day was still young, with a few matches scheduled for the afternoon, yet none captivated your interest if Patrick wasn't involved. Thankfully, memories of Patrick's triumphant grin would be enough to keep your mind and hands occupied for a couple of hours.

Except it did not.

Those kinds of things sufficed when you were fifteen, but now, as a woman with deeper needs, they fell short. You sighed, mindlessly gazing at the ceiling while lying on your bed. Your imagination was running dry, you needed to see him, touch him, smell him, feel him.

Perhaps tonight's party, which your brother mentioned was being thrown in honor of the female winner of that afternoon's game, would spark material for your fantasies. All the players from the championship were invited, so there was a chance Patrick might attend. You would finally see him outside the court, in his everyday clothes and without his racket, the true object of his affection. You had the entire afternoon to prepare yourself both physically and mentally. If tomorrow was destined to be the big day, tonight could serve as a rehearsal.

Despite being already dolled up from the earlier match, you aimed to make a statement tonight. Entering the shower, you scrubbed vigorously, intent on achieving the smoothest skin possible. Every inch mattered. You reached for your razor, meticulously attending to your legs and intimate areas. What grooming choice would Patrick prefer? Was he the full bush type of guy? Would he like a bit of hair left intact? Completely bare? You opted to keep a small amount of hair. While shaving it all off would be ideal for tonight, the regrowth would definitely ruin your big day tomorrow.

After lathering, rinsing, and drying off, you smoothed lotion across your entire body. Spritzing perfume onto the nape of your neck, the insides of your elbows, behind your knees, and even sparing a dash of fragrance for your bits. You generously applied deodorant under your armpits, secretly wishing Patrick would skip this step of his routine. You were eager to experience his natural scent. The thought of burying your nose in his sweaty, hairy pits was utterly intoxicating.

You had packed lightly for your trip, leaving you with a sparse collection of makeup products. In that instant, you wished for better makeup skills or the company of girlfriends to lend a hand and share their supplies. You settled for a touch of pearly eyeshadow, mascara and pink lip gloss. As for your outfit, the options were equally limited. With only one dress, a common black piece with spaghetti straps, hitting at knee length. Feeling underwhelmed, you made a silent vow to yourself that once Patrick would be yours, you would dress sexier. Slipping into the dress, you tugged at the fabric, attempting to shorten it just enough to expose your thighs.

You gazed at your reflection briefly. Despite your best efforts, you didn't perceive yourself as particularly attractive. At best, you would qualify yourself as average. You pinched your stomach, acknowledging your mother's previous comments about letting yourself go. With a deep breath, you sucked in your stomach while pulling your hair into a ponytail, hoping to remember to maintain that posture throughout the evening.

You grabbed your cream-coloured luxury purse, a gift of your parents for your eighteenth birthday, trying to fit all the essentials for touch-ups in there. One essential item was missing : condoms. If the evening was to take a favorable turn, they would be necessary. Surely, he would have some, being a guy and all, right? Upon further reflection, you hoped he didn't. The idea of feeling him release his warm load inside you was enticing. You would probably spend days in bed afterward, with your legs crossed in an effort to keep a part of him inside you for as long as possible. Plus what was the worst thing that could happen? Pregnancy? You had been waiting to carry his child since you were fourteen.

●

The party had been underway for some time. While preparing had consumed a significant amount of your time, it was the mental rehearsal of what you would say upon seeing Patrick that had caused the delay. Your brother was already present, encircled by friends, casually sipping a beer. You couldn't help but envy how effortlessly he blended in. A successful career, a social circle, a loving girlfriend, and a genuine passion. He had it all.

All you had was… Patrick.

Was he even present? Scanning the room, your gaze instantly locked onto him. He possessed the ability to stand out in any crowd. With his head of messy curls, his devilish smirk and his baby blue polo shirt paired with beige shorts, he was a vision. His shorts showed just enough of his oh-so-biteable meaty calves. You could tell he had strong legs, strong enough to carry your weight as you would ride him like there was no tomorrow. You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply. Were you losing your mind? The mere sight of the curve of his ankles was enough to bring heat to your cheeks.

He wasn't alone, his earlier teammate stood beside him. Perhaps it was the perfect moment to introduce yourself and offer congratulations on their victory. But first, you made your way to the bar to grab a drink. You wanted to appear nonchalant, just a random guest blending in rather than coming across as one of his groupies. You were fond of sugary drinks but since you needed to watch your diet, you opted for a bottle of Perrier. When you turned back around, bottle in hand, the two boys had vanished. Spotting them a few feet away, engrossed in conversation with Tashi Duncan. You recognized her from the posters your brother hid under his bed. The tennis star. The embodiment of beauty.

There was something truly hypnotizing about Tashi Duncan. She was athletic yet slender with long tan legs, a thin waist and toned arms. Her facial features were equally striking, with piercing black eyes, high cheekbones, and a captivating smile that could light up a room. Her hair flowed in dark luxurious waves, the undulations tumbled in soft patterns, framing her face with an effortless grace. It cascaded down her delicate back, reaching the spot right above her perfectly firm muscular ass. She was like a siren. Captivating all attention on court and outside. You envied her. Especially now that Patrick's attention was on her. You could never be half the woman she was. Her beauty did not only reside in her physical features but also in the way she carried herself, confident but also playful.

Intrigued, you navigated through the crowd, drawing nearer to them, and leaned against the wall behind the couch where the tennis queen was seated. Taking a sip from your bottle, you struggled to listen to their conversation above the din of the music. They were discussing their future endeavors. A couple of references to Stanford in their conversation hinted that Tashi Duncan was enrolling too. Would she become a rival for you? Despite her apparent lack of interest, it was clear that Patrick was mesmerized by her. You had to intervene.

"Sorry for eavesdropping but you're going to Stanford too?" You introduced yourself, extending your hand for a handshake. You could tell by the dozens of posters celebrating her that she was the victor of this afternoon's match. "Congratulations by the way!" Despite the jealousy gnawing at you, you forced yourself to be friendly. You barely knew her, yet Patrick's attention seemed solely fixed on her. Forming a bond with her would surely draw attention to you as well. "Thank you. And yes, and he's going there too actually." She nodded in the blond boy's direction. You glanced at him indifferently and stepped closer, ready to shake his hand too. "Art Donaldson. Nice to meet you. I've seen you before right?" You vaguely recalled him from earlier but you weren't sure you ever crossed paths before. You would have remembered. He was a handsome boy. Tall, athletic, with messy golden locks and a bright smile. There was a certain boyish charm about him. Surely, a lot of girls were drawn to him. However, he paled in comparison to your Patrick.

"Maybe. My brother is at Mark Rebellato." You mentioned casually, subtly dropping your brother's name, showing little interest in engaging in small talk with Art. "And you, are you also...?" You then turned towards the man of your dreams, extending your hand towards him. "Patrick Zweig." As he shook your hand, the sensation of his cold, calloused hand against your skin sent shivers down your spine. Images of him grabbing his crotch years ago were suddenly flooding your brain.

It was the first time you were seeing him up close, you delicately examined every contour and feature of his face. From his long, pointy and slightly hooked nose you dreamt of sitting on to his adorable protruding ears you would use as handles while doing the said sitting. The charming way only one side of his mouth curled when he smiled, his sun-kissed skin covered with hundreds of freckles, each more loveable than the other or his straight teeth that would leave the most exquisite marks on your body. There wasn't a flaw to be found in that man. "No, college isn't my thing." He explained, casually sipping on his Coca-Cola bottle. Your smile fell, replaced by furrowed brows. Stanford had a reputation of recruiting talents from the Rebellato academy, which was the sole reason you had applied there. You harbored hopes of encountering Patrick on a daily basis. "Oh?" Before you could delve further, a deep voice interrupted the moment.

"Baby, I need to steal you for a second. Over at the trophies." Tashi's father had requested her presence. She excused herself, greeting each of you with a goodbye. "I suppose I'll see you at Stanford, Tashi!" You waved politely, secretly hating her for being so perfect and for the effect she had on your man. With her departure, you found yourself only in the company of the two boys. Just one left and you would finally be alone with the love of your life. Your stomach twisted into a knot of anxiety. You realized you needed to come up with a topic of conversation quickly to redirect the focus onto yourself. Despite all your mental preparation, you had not considered the fact that Art and Patrick would be glued to the hip.

Patrick sank into the couch with a heavy sigh. You mimicked his action and sat opposite of him on the second couch. He looked defeated by the sudden absence of the great Tashi Duncan. Before you could even open your mouth to cheer him up, Art turned to Patrick. "Now what?" Both of them had their eyes fixated on her. "What do you mean, that was it." They continued to talk as if you weren't even there. The night couldn't get any worse until Patrick mentioned taking the shuttle back to their hotel. You couldn't believe it. After all the effort you put into making yourself worthy of him, he was ignoring you, you felt nauseous.

"Let's go." Art proposed, prompting Patrick to rise from his seat. "Yeah, let's go." He stood up and headed towards the exit without so much as a glance in your direction. With a polite smile and nod from Art, the two boys vanished from your sight.

Your night was ruined, perhaps tomorrow would bring better fortune? As you made your way towards your hotel, you spotted them seated away from the crowd, smoking cigarettes. Approaching them, you noticed Tashi was already present. Feeling overwhelmed, you stepped back, knowing you couldn't bear witnessing Patrick's attention fixated on someone else. Seeing all three of them leave together only exacerbated the lump in your throat and the tears welling in your eyes. Taking a seat on the couch, you picked the very spot Patrick had just left, longing to feel his warmth. On the table before you rested the ashtray, bearing the cigarette butt that Patrick had just put out. You picked the discarded cigarette and placed it carefully in your pocket.

Once you returned to your hotel, you didn't bother undressing or removing your makeup, too eager to examine your newfound treasure. You simply lay on your bed and placed the cigarette between your lips. Having never been kissed, this was the closest thing to it for you. You probably wouldn't ever know as you couldn't imagine anyone but Patrick tasting your lips and touching your body.

Despite Patrick's lips having touched the cigarette, it felt cold, damp, and impersonal. The smell of cold tobacco, however, reminded you of him. You closed your eyes and slid your hand down your underwear. That very same hand he had shook earlier was now caressing your cunt, stroking your folds, you were so wet for him. You had recently found an interest in porn in an effort to calm the heat in you and now you knew how to make yourself cum with a few precise strokes of your clit. Porn had been very instructive when it came to finding new things to fantasize about. Maybe you were even getting a bit too addicted to it. But now you ached for Patrick's thick cock down your throat making you gag with each thrust, Patrick violently slamming himself up your ass, so deeply that you would feel him in your stomach, Patrick using you like a whore, plunging himself in you only caring about his own pleasure not yours and denying you orgasms, forcing you to gobble his big hairy balls or using your tongue as a cum rag, Patrick choking you with his veiny hands, so hard that you would lose consciousness and he would continue to fuck your inert body. God, his hands. You moaned rubbing your clit one last time before exploding, calling his name. You placed the cigarette on the bedside table, breathless. You could tell your fantasies were becoming more and more… uncommon but it was only a proof that you would let him do anything of you. Nobody would ever love him more than you and he needed to know that.

●

Waking up the next day had been challenging. You were still wearing your dress and you could tell by the stains of your pillow that your makeup was also still on. After a long shower, you grabbed one of those tiny tennis skirts you had prepared for the occasion. If he was too bothered to notice you yesterday, you would be sure to be seen today. It probably wouldn't be the big day you had dreamed of, with a declaration of love, Tashi Duncan was the reason for that, but it could still be worth it. It was time to revise your plan. If his mind was someplace else, you could still fuck your way to his heart and drive him insane. Once he would see how devoted you are to him, he would surely choose you. Tashi Duncan wasn't the type of girl who would get on her knees and worship his cock. She wanted to be worshiped while you didn't care how badly he treated you as long as he filled every single one of your holes.

Today's match featured Patrick Zweig against Art Donaldson, marking the highly anticipated finale of the US Open Junior Boys Singles Championship. To secure a front-row seat, you had arrived an hour early and witnessed the two boys stretch and warm up on the court, engaged in conversation. Their close friendship was evident. You couldn't help but wonder how their bond would influence the game's dynamics. You were concerned that the match might be underwhelming if neither of them was willing to assert dominance, fearing it could strain their relationship. Observing the scoreboard, you couldn't help but notice their respective seeding positions. Patrick held the second seed, whereas Art was ranked fifth in the tournament. It was evident that there was already a significant disparity in power. That would probably make the game interesting.

The thought of cheering for Art as loudly as possible to make Patrick jealous had crossed your mind. Normally, you were Patrick's most vocal supporter, and he would undoubtedly notice the absence of your chants. Without you, no one would be shouting his name, but you would be doing so for Art. However, you quickly dismissed the idea, as the concept of screaming another man's name made you physically ill.

When the umpire tossed the coin, it flipped in favor of Art who decided to serve first. The two boys took their positions. "Game on." The umpire announced, blowing his whistle as Art delivered his first serve. Patrick promptly returned it, initiating a series of exchanges. The ball moved like a blur between the two. The crowd held its breath with every swing of the racket.

Patrick was the first to score, letting out a triumphant yell. His vocal enthusiasm throughout the game had made you feel light-hearted. The groans he emitted each time he struck the ball with his racket were indecent. Was he that loud in bed? You were dying to find out. And it wasn't the only thing. The way his hand was so tightly wrapped around the racket reminded you of your earlier fantasies. You wondered how his large sturdy hand would look, milking himself all over your face. The echo of the racket striking the ball filled your mind with fantasies of a day you would be enduring such forceful backhands on your ass.

After winning the first set, he bowed his head and curtsied towards the audience.Your eyes followed his gaze. Of course. Tashi fucking Duncan. You let out an irritated sigh, and you weren't the only one who noticed. The tension between Patrick and Art was palpable. Art glared at his friend, feeling humiliated by his arrogance.

You had to admit tennis was growing on you even if Patrick was the one you wanted to feel growing in you. The match ended with Patrick winning the game. You exploded in joy, screaming his name and clapping as hard as you could. You didn't care to look desperate for him at that moment, you were. You knew he would win, he simply was the best.

Patrick draped his arm over Art's shoulder as he escorted him to the locker rooms. It was evident that something had changed in the demeanor of the blond boy. He appeared defeated and withdrawn, while Patrick was radiant, boasting to his friend. As the audience began to trickle out of the court, you lingered near the locker rooms, uncertain of your next move. You hadn't yet thought of a plan. At the very least, you could congratulate the champion. Hopefully, he would recall your encounter from yesterday and engage in further conversation. Or so you hoped. If not, maybe you would drag him back to the changing rooms, drop your panties down your ankle and bend over. Offering your pussy to him without asking anything in return, a proposition difficult to refuse.

Your scenario was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the golden girl herself, Tashi Duncan. She greeted you as she noticed you leaning against the wall. Moments later, Patrick emerged and joined her. She smiled at him, slipping a piece of paper into his hand, eliciting a chuckle from him. His grin far surpassed any victory smile. "You earned it." She said, planting a soft kiss on his lips. That fucking slut. You couldn't believe your eyes. Sensing your eyes on them, she looked back at you and so did Patrick, finally noticing you. "Are you waiting for Art?" He asked. "Yeah, sure. I will come back later." You lied before sprinting back to your hotel room.

Upon entering your room, you flung yourself onto the bed and let out a scream into your pillow. How could he betray you like this? You had put everything on hold for him. He was supposed to be the one. That night, you had cried so much that your eyes were red and your voice gone for days.

●

The few weeks before freshman year had been the most depressing period imaginable. The horny young woman with a wild imagination that you once were seemed like a distant memory. Without Patrick, life felt devoid of excitement. You struggled to have an appetite, found sleep elusive, and questioned the purpose of your existence. Even masturbating had lost its fun.

During those couple of weeks that felt endless, you haven't heard a thing from him. You had even tried to add him on Facebook, but your request remained pending. Your sole source of information was Tashi. She reached out to you on Facebook a week before school, expressing eagerness to find a familiar face in Stanford's halls. Despite your conflicting feelings about her, you couldn't resist putting on a friendly facade. Your dad's advice to keep your friends close and your enemies closer echoed in your mind. If Tashi wanted a girl friend, you would oblige and be the best of friends. After all, she was your only link to Patrick.

You learned that he was on tour, striving to turn pro, and you were also aware that he and Tashi had started dating shortly after the championship.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He wasn't meant to thrive without you. He was supposed to be miserable. As miserable as you were.

Your blooming friendship with Tashi wasn't the most unexpected aspect of university life. That dreadful meeting in front of the locker rooms after the match had seemed to plant the idea in her mind that you harbored feelings for Art, leading her to make it her mission to play matchmaker for the two of you. She extended invitations to every party and lunch they shared, often bailing at the last minute to leave you alone together. Despite Art being a kind and supportive friend, you found no romantic interest in him. Nonetheless, you went along with Tashi's schemes, knowing that if anyone was closer to Patrick than Tashi, it was Art. At least this arrangement allowed you to stay within their social circle and be present whenever Patrick made an appearance.

Your heart raced when spotted him in the cafeteria during his first stay over, his dark curly hair and athletic frame catching your eye right away. Tashi sat beside him, with Art across from him. You resisted the urge to dash to him and wrap him in a hug. You took a seat next to Art and set down your lunch tray. "Hi, Patrick." You greeted, grinning from ear to ear, your voice betraying your excitement with a slight crack. "Hey." He responded with a nod, his hands buried in his pockets. How much you had missed him, it was maddening. Wearing jeans, it was the first time he wasn't exposing his legs to you. Was this some form of punishment? After all that time, you couldn't get a glimpse of his hairy thighs that you desired to be strangled with? Just thinking about them, you could feel the tingling sensation in your lower stomach that you had thought gone for days.

Apart from that, he didn't look that different except for a tanner skin. He was even sporting a sunburn on the bridge of his nose. You only wanted to kiss it better. "So Patrick, heard you've been losing. A lot." Art bantered before you shot him a kick under the table, diverting your attention to your salad. What a fucking cunt. "Be nice." You scolded him, avoiding making eye contact with any of them.

"I can't be lucky in every field. I already won the best prize." He jokingly knocked Art's cap off his head and planted a kiss on Tashi's cheek. Disgusting. You looked at them in disbelief. They really shouldn't act like that in your presence, especially when you were holding a knife. They carried on with their conversation, mentioning classes, the tour and tennis, of course. Feeling uneasy, you directed your attention to your tray of food, consuming more than necessary. Once done, you discarded your dishes and followed them outside.

Patrick had lit a cigarette and was pulling on it. The trio bursted into laughter, while you were watching them, a smile on your face. Even if the two parasites were standing between you two, you already felt immensely better just being near him. You were convinced that Patrick possessed some kind of power over you, the kind that could mend you with just a glance. It made you wonder if you would explode with happiness if he were as close to you as possible, if he were inside you. Or maybe you wanted to be inside of him? How you longed to be in the place of his cigarette at that moment. "Mind if I take a drag?" You asked although you didn't smoke. Health was a second thought when you already knew your love for him would be the death of you, before cancer could even reach your lungs. He passed it to you and you placed the stick between your lips. It felt different from the first time you had done that, in your hotel room. You could feel the warmth from his lips this time. Art glanced at you with curiosity, taken aback by the sudden action. You returned his gaze, silently pleading that he wouldn't bring up the fact that you didn't smoke in Patrick's presence. You handed the cigarette back to Patrick, ensuring your hand brushed against his as you did. Above all else, you yearned for physical connection.

"By the way, how did you two start dating? Tashi never told me." You asked him. She had not told you because you didn't want to ask. What had she done that you couldn't do? "It's quite the tale." He warned before recounting the event of the Adidas party. It had started on the beach, continued in the hotel room and finished on the court. He didn't forget to mention the kiss they shared, all three of them and brag about how he managed to seduce THE Duncanator once her number was in his possession. Tashi rolled her eyes, a grin playing on her lips, while Art turned bright red. Patrick seemed thoroughly pleased recounting the story, making you wonder if boys were now also in the competition for Patrick's affection. You couldn't ignore the fact that Patrick always lit up when discussing Art or anything related to him. Was there more to their connection?

Struggling to conceal your jealousy, you chuckled at the story and flashed a smile at a sheepish Art. "The three of you?!" That little fucker. He had possessed Patrick in ways you had not, and you could swear something had shifted in you. You had never found him as appealing as you did at that moment. You felt an urge to devour him, to experience Patrick through him, and that's how everything began.

That evening, Patrick and Tashi were unreachable. You tried calling her on her cell phone repeatedly, but received no response. As for Patrick, you didn't have any way to contact him at all. Despite their silence regarding their plans for the night, you weren't oblivious. You knew they were fucking. And your effort to disrupt their evening with your presence had been unsuccessful. Returning to your dorm room after a review session at the library, you walked past Tashi's room. Driven by curiosity, you leaned in, pressing your ear against the door, and were met with Tashi's muffled moans, Patrick's heavy panting and the creak of the bed beneath them. You felt a sudden wave of sickness taking over your body. You knew this was happening, of course, but hearing it was a whole other thing. Sadness settled over you, weighing heavily on your chest, as the reality of the nature of their relationship sank in. Each moan felt like a stab to your heart. You sprinted back to your room, not wanting to hear them any longer.**

●

Entering your room, you collapsed onto your bed, tears of rage forming in your eyes. Their moaning had sent jolts of electricity to your core and you could feel wetness between your legs. Your hand would have been enough to calm yourself on any other day but you were so sickened by the betrayal that you decided to go against your own principles. If Patrick was going to act like a whore, why would you bother saving yourself for him? You reached for your phone, sending a text to the only guy who cared enough about you to show up, hoping that he would be willing to offer some sort of comfort.

← [To : Art - 8:13pm]

Movie night?

→ [From : Art - 8:14pm]

Sure.

← [To : Art - 8:14pm]

Roble Hall, Room 74. Bring the snacks.

●

When Art showed up at your room, you were in an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts. This was not exactly the sexy outfit you had imagined wearing to mess around with a boy. But after your rushed cold shower, you couldn’t be bothered to pick a nice outfit. He wasn't Patrick anyway, dressing up for Art wasn’t necessary, it would even be out of character. Besides, he was also in gym clothes. You wondered for a second if he thought of this as a friendly invitation or sports clothes was all he owned. With a big smile, he revealed a bag of salted popcorn he had been hiding behind his back as if it were some kind of great gift. Even his snack choice was bland and unoriginal. You invited him in, gesturing towards the twin bed where your portable DVD player was resting.

You didn't own that many DVDs, but Art still took the time to skim through each one, reading the back covers. He settled on Batman Begins. You inserted the disc into the DVD player. The cramped bed and the tiny screen forced proximity between you, leaving you practically all over each other : both lying on your stomachs with your hips touching and your feet occasionally brushing against one another.

"Christian Bale's hot." You squinted at him, amused. Men could appreciate other men's attractiveness without wanting to fuck them, you were aware of that. But knowing about his little experience with Patrick, you couldn't help but scrutinize Art's every action and word. What if all this was pointless? You needed to ensure you weren't wasting your time. You gently grabbed his chin, turning his head to study his face in detail. His slender face boasted a sharp jawline, framed by a fair, smooth skin that, despite its youth, bore faint lines on his forehead and around his eyes, lending him a tired appearance. His small, downturned blue eyes, one spotting a curious half-brown hue, seemed to vanish when he smiled, his thin lips parting to reveal prominent teeth. The feature of his you liked the most had to be his sizable, slightly curved nose. Completing the picture was his blond, wavy hair, adding to his boyish allure. Nothing Patrick-like but that would do. "I think you're hotter than him." His blush reassured you that you weren't a lost cause.

As the movie continued to play you realized you officially hated action movies, though Art seemed completely engrossed. You reached for the bag of popcorn and noticed the brand. "Skinny Pop? Is it an intervention?" You joked, playfully slapping your own ass to make it jiggle. You caught him staring for a moment. "No, I just stole them at practice." You popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth and fed him another. "You were at practice? Did you even shower before sitting on my bed?" You prayed he had not. "Of course! Who do you think I am?" He said, feigning indignation. Shit. He really had a knack for making things less exciting.

Things weren't progressing the way you desired. And naturally, he had chosen the least sexy movie ever. Despite your attempts to engage : playing with his feet, tracing patterns on his back, even shifting positions to lay facing him, the only reward you got was a smile. It was clear you needed to take matters into your own hands. So, when he reached for popcorn, you tapped his shoulder and opened your mouth, waiting for him to feed you and as he did, you playfully bit his fingers. "Eh!" He protested, frowning at you. Finally, a reaction! You seized his hand and enveloped your lips around his index finger, gently sucking on it. He watched you in astonishment as you shifted your attention to his thumb, licking off the salt. Releasing his hand, you leaned in closer, crushing your lips against his.

Despite his initial surprise, you sensed the tension ease as he leaned in to meet your kiss. With closed eyes, you both immersed yourselves in the moment. Just a few hours earlier, kissing another man would have been unimaginable. Yet, here you were. As he turned to face you, aligning his body with yours, your fingers traced the contours of his jaw before gently cupping it, drawing him nearer. Craving to deepen the connection, you explored his lips with your tongue, begging him to reciprocate. The sensation of his firm hand on your waist sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, not quite butterflies, but a tickling feeling nonetheless. As he responded, parting his lips, his tongue mingling with yours, you playfully nudged your nose against his, unable to contain your amusement. "Oh god, finally." You murmured, a laugh escaping as your lips met. He pulled back, chuckling softly. "Why do you say that?" His ears flushed a bright shade of red, adding to your amusement.

With a playful shove, you tipped him onto his back, confidently straddling his hips, your weight settling comfortably and your hands resting on his chest, tracing the outline of his pectoral muscles. "Well." You teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you gazed down at him. "Let's just say that if my tongue wasn't enough for you to get the hint, I was already planning my next move along those lines. Something a tad more... persuasive." You slowly bounced on top of him before leaning over him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before trailing a series of gentle pecks down his jaw, nibbling on his skin. "To be honest with you, I thought you were into Patrick." He mumbled, his voice breathy from the attention you were giving him. You arched an eyebrow, surprised by his comment. Even Art could tell? You snorted, feigning to be offended by the idea. You briefly considered retorting that you had your suspicions about his interest in Patrick as well, but instead, you chose a different response to his comment. "Would a girl who is into Patrick invite YOU to her room?" Probably, if she were as desperate as you.

You didn't give him a chance to respond, pressing your lips against his once more and running your hands through his hair. His hands hesitantly found their way to your hips. You were pissed that he could see right through you, but you weren't about to let that frustration go to waste. You now found yourself kissing him with hunger, holding your breath as you swirled your tongue around his. The kiss turned sloppy as you weren't really sure if you were doing things right. Your high school friend had once told you that you didn't need practice, you just needed to follow your instincts. But those very instincts urged you to sink your teeth into that tongue, bite it off and swallow it. It was the exact same tongue that Patrick had tasted but now it yearned eagerly for you. You withdrew, taking a moment to catch your breath, your fingers still tangled in his blond locks. You traced your hands down his chest, lifting his shirt as he sat up to assist in removing it with a certain impatience. Once his shirt was off, he grabbed your ass, fondling it with firm hands. You then embraced him, wrapping your arms around his neck, drawing him nearer to you. He felt sturdy and reassuring in your embrace, yet you yearned for the sensation of his soft bare skin against yours. "Take off mine…" You purred into his ear before turning your attention to his earlobe, enveloping it with your lips and giving it a gentle suck.

With a ferocious tug, he grabbed the hem of the oversize shirt, lifted it over your head and threw it aside. You didn't need to ask twice before your chest was bared to him. The awkward boy you had to kiss with insistence was now a distant memory, replaced by a lustful impatient man. You could sense his gaze lingering upon your chest. He raised his hips, bringing you up higher so your breasts were now at mouth reach. He encircled one of your nipples with his lips. You gasped audibly, taken aback by how delightful it felt. His wet tongue flicking your bud made your legs shake. You wanted to experiment more of this. It felt like you were on a high.

Growing increasingly impatient, you pressed your heated core against his clothed arousal. He was hard and throbbing. You raised your hips, eager to remove his pants, leaving only his underwear and your shorts as barriers between you two. Rolling your hips against him, you began with a slow, deliberate pace, ensuring maximum pressure each time your body met his. The sensation was maddening so much so that you momentarily forgot about his mouth on your chest. You didn't know you were capable of making sounds of this sort. Feeling self-conscious about your voice, you rashly took his face in your hands and kissed him passionately while still bouncing onto him. His frustration at losing contact with your breasts was evident so you decided to distract him in your own way.

You let your hand glide down his abdomen, your fingers toying with the elastic band of his underwear. The smoothness of his body was a stark contrast to Patrick's. The absence of hair leading to his groin was disappointing. You then slipped your hand beneath the fabric and palmed his length. The boy squirmed beneath you upon contact. Aware of how porn could create unrealistic expectations, you braced yourself for disappointment. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find that Art's member was of a respectable size. This was an interesting new sensation. It didn't feel as smooth as you thought it would, you could feel texture due to the presence of veins and the stubble from his recent shaving. You ran your thumb across his circumcised head, coaxing a moan from his mouth. This part felt much smoother. You teasingly squeezed his balls before retracting your hand. It was your first time attempting such a move, but there was no need for him to be aware of that fact. After immersing yourself in porn for the past year, you felt confident in your ability to handle the situation. It was just jerking a guy off. You broke the kiss, spat into your hand, maintaining eye contact with Art, and with a teasing smirk, slid it back down into his shorts.

You gripped the base of his shaft with your hand and began to stroke it slowly, moistening it with your saliva. Meanwhile, his mouth returned to your breast, lavishing attention on your other nipple. You also felt his fingers teasing you through your shorts. You hated that you were wearing clothes, all you wanted right now was to feel his fingers in you. You sat on his hand, trying to feel him more. You gasped, your eyes fluttering as the overwhelming sensation washed over you. It was evident how wet you had become. You continued to grip his cock firmly. Honestly, you weren't sure what to do next, it felt like you were endlessly stroking him, and he was nowhere near climaxing. While you could tell he was enjoying it, you were eager for him to reach orgasm. Porn had made it seem so easy.

After some time, Art began delicately slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts, exploring your moist entrance. The sensation sent waves of ecstasy through you as you clumsily stimulated him. His fingers pressed against your opening, the touch distinctly different from your own.

"I want you so much." He whispered into your ear, his fingers still toying with you. "Then take me now." You whimpered, unable to wait any longer.

"Condoms?" He asked as you shook your head. That had not crossed your mind. He rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh, laying back on the bed, resting his hands back on your hips. You slided your hand out of his underwear and placed it on his chest. The loss of contact made him whine, frustrated. If it had been Patrick, you would have let him slam himself bare inside you but there was no way you would let another man fill you. There was always pulling out. You could tell by the way Art was looking at you that the idea crossed his mind and the question was burning his lips. But you were now, with thoughts of Patrick filling you up, totally turned off by Art, dry as sand. "I can blow you.. If you want."

In a hurried motion, you stripped off his underwear, discarding them entirely. You knelt beside him, your fingers trailing along his chiseled abs as you leaned in closer. His cock twitched beneath your touch, hardening even more under your gaze. Now, you could fully admire his body. While his shaft matched the rest of his skin tone, his tip boasted a subtle pink hue. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, savoring every inch of his length. Your hands stroked his thighs eagerly while you continued to devour him hungrily. Your tongue darted in and out of his slit, tasting his salty sweetness as you relished every moan and whimper he made. With one hand on his balls, massaging them gently, you used the other to grip the base of his shaft firmly, pumping rhythmically as you blew him

His hands gripped your head tightly, guiding you deeper until you slightly gagged on his thickness, your nose buried in the stubble covering his lower abdomen. What a shame that he was so keen on getting rid of any kind of body hair. You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around its sensitive ridge. Moans escaped from both your throats as you sucked harder, drawing out each groan as if it were music to your ears. You looked up at him in an attempt to stare into his eyes. You had heard that guys enjoyed eye contact during a blowjob but Art was struggling to keep his eyes open. You could gauge the impact of your actions from the way his stomach contracted and his legs trembled. It was a good sign, you didn't completely suck at this. Your jaw was starting to hurt like hell though and your mouth was filled with saliva. How much longer did he need?

"I'm about to..." He gasped. There was no chance you would allow that man's load to be shot down her throat. Quickly, you withdrew yourself and began manually stimulating him again. When he ejaculated, you didn't anticipate it to splatter everywhere as it did.

You crawled off him, grossed out by his fluids and grabbed a tissue from your bedside table, wiping your hand. While you were busy getting rid of the cum running down your wrist, Art seized the opportunity to pull down the hem of your shorts, exposing your buttocks. "What are you doing?" you asked, panic evident in your eyes. "Returning the favor." He replied, wearing a foolish grin. "You don't have to." You reassured him, tossing the tissue into the bin. "I want to." He insisted firmly. No one had ever gone down on you before, and the thought both excited and terrified you.

With hesitant movements, you flopped onto your back, sliding your shorts down your legs and kicking them off. Your heart was pounding in your chest as Art positioned himself between your legs.

He looked up at you for confirmation before lowering his head, his warm breath tickling your sensitive flesh. Your body twitched in anticipation as he placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh.

Slowly, he traced a line of kisses up towards your core, teasingly avoiding the place that craved his attention the most. When he finally made contact with your folds, a gasp escaped from deep within your throat. His tongue glided over your clit in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

You arched your back and tangled your fingers in his hair as he continued to work his magic. His tongue dipped lower, giving your opening short and quick laps before returning to focus on your swollen clit.

The sensations were overwhelming. It felt like you were on fire. Art obviously had experience in this area. "Don't stop…" You moaned, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth.

Art moved one of his hands to your cunt, sliding his index and middle finger into you as he continued to eat your bud with a hunger that matched your own. He replaced his lips with his thumb over your clit, massaging it as he sloppily nibbled on your labias. He raised his second hand to one of your breasts, groping it. Your hand quickly joined his on top of your breast, tightening his grip while your other hand tugged on the sheet.

You felt pressure in your lower body as your orgasm built up, threatening to crash over you at any moment. The pressure was becoming too much to handle. "F-fuck…" You moaned while trying to muffle the sound by biting into your arm.

With one final flick of his tongue, Art sent you over the edge. Your body convulsed as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

You had brought yourself to come countless times, but this was the first time someone else had given you an orgasm.

The post-nut conversation turned out to be less awkward than anticipated. Art revealed himself to be interesting when tennis wasn't the sole topic. Eventually, he checked his watch and rose from the bed. "He's waiting for me." He remarked as you watched him retrieve his crumpled clothes from the floor and dress up in hurry. You felt a bit abandoned but the fact that he did not invite you to come with him. You knew he was going to join Patrick at the court for a nighttime match. "See you later." You murmured, disappointed. He leaned in for a sloppy kiss that you broke after a few seconds, tasting yourself on his tongue. You briefly considered mentioning that your juices were spread all around his chin and cheek but you didn't. "For sure." He responded with a grin so wide that everyone could tell he just had some action and then left your room.

●

You were having lunch with your English literature classmates when you noticed Patrick leaving the cafeteria alone. Without hesitation, you stood up, excused yourself, and followed him outside. If he was going for a smoke, it was the perfect opportunity for a private moment. As you opened the exit door, you saw Art already there, sitting on a bench and chatting with Patrick. Fucking parasite. He smiled and waved at you as you approached and took a seat between the two. "Hey there." Patrick greeted you with a smirk, making your heart skip a beat. You glanced at Art, who was grinning from ear to ear. Of course, he had told Patrick. If fucking Art finally made Patrick see you in a different light, hell, you'd do it every day. "What are you guys doing?" You inquired, already aware of the situation. "Just chatting." Art responded, smoothly extending his arm behind you, his fingertips lightly brushing your spine. What was he trying to prove? "How was the game last night?" You asked, though you weren't particularly interested. "Fun. I'm sure Art enjoyed himself a lot." Patrick snickered as Art shot him a dirty look. You looked from one to the other before rolling your eyes. "I'm sure the game didn't go as well as he hoped. I heard he couldn't play the final set." You commented, taking a jab at Art. He looked at you in disbelief, while Patrick laughed at your remark. You nibbled at your lower lip, wondering if you had gone too far. But you didn't really care, you were the reason Patrick was laughing. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Art's gentle pinch on your back eased your racing heart. "Alright, I should head back to my table. You can get back to your gossip." Before you could stand up, Art caught hold of your arm. Leaning in close, he whispered in your ear. "Wanna hang out in my room tonight?" You shrugged. Did you really want to? Not particularly. But it was too late to back out now. Patrick would be grilling Art for details in the morning. His room, though? Tonight was definitely the night. He was so tactless that you wouldn't be surprised to find his bed littered with condoms. "Sure." You replied, then swiftly left the scene.

●

Art's room wasn't that different from what you had imagined. It was clean, with the bed made and the room smelled like deodorant. There were also more personal items : trophies, medails, posters and pictures. You looked closely at all the pictures of the wall. You didn't know the vast majority of those people although you could guess that some of them represented his parents due to the resemblance. There were many pictures of the Mark Rebellato academy players. You could even spot your brother in the background of one. But Patrick's face was present in every picture but one of them caught your attention. It was a recent picture of the two of them, plastered about the bed. Patrick had that side smirk that made your clit throb while Art was smiling with all his teeth.

As soon as you sat on the bed, Art joined you, sitting by your side. He smiled, gently brushing your hair away from your neck before kissing you passionately. It was clear you weren't there to chat. You tilted your head, giving him room to explore your neck, while you placed a hand on his thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. "Honestly, I thought I'd be greeted with you tossing condoms like confetti." You chuckled, your hand sliding up his thigh, nearing his crotch. "I kind of pictured you running to the store first thing in the morning." Art grinned at your comment, then leaned over to his bedside table, grabbed a handful of condoms, and playfully tossed them at your face. You threw a few back at him before pushing him onto the bed and straddling him. You lifted his shirt, exposing his bright pink nipples and hairless chest. "Did you go around telling everyone I gave you head?" You asked. Patrick wasn't just anyone, though. He shook his head. "I only mentioned it to Patrick... Sorry about that. And just so you know, he's also aware of the pussy-eating part." You shrugged as you unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper. "Patrick's fine, don't worry. But now you're going to have a reputation. Plenty of girls lining up at your door." You teased, tugging at his underwear to take a peek. "Let's hope they knock loud enough, we might not hear them tonight."

●

You watched, captivated, as Art smoothly rolled the latex onto his erection, his eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't back out, Art was on top of you, ready to enter you. It was official, Patrick wouldn't be the one deflowering you.

Finally, unable to contain yourself any longer after all that foreplay, you begged him to enter you. As Art penetrated you, the pressure was intense yet exhilarating. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly as you tried to adjust to his size. At that moment, you hoped that he couldn't tell you were a virgin. Art began to move within you, his thrusts slow but steady. Each time he sank further into your warmth, your senses heightened, your mind lost in the sensations coursing through your veins. You let out a breathy whine and bit into his shoulder, trying your best to not name the wrong man.

Soon, his rhythm quickened, becoming more urgent. But even as your body responded eagerly to his touches, your mind wandered back to Patrick's face, frozen in time in the picture on the wall. He pushed inside you, savoring the way your muscles clenched around his shaft. You moaned softly, arching your back and inviting him deeper.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy." You wrapped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips beneath him and melting into him completely. Despite Art being an attentive lover, you couldn't bring yourself to climax, your mind too cloudy with conflicting emotions. Finally, Art exploded in a series of shuddering spasms. He collapsed onto the mattress, spent and exhilarated. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you let out a small groan before leaning into his embrace, feeling more confused than satisfied. Was this really what you wanted? There was tenderness here, gentleness. You wanted raw, unbridled passion, the kind that threatened to consume you whole.

"I came so hard." Art whispered soft words of praise into your ear. "Did you?" You felt a pinch of guilt stirring inside you once more, wondering whether you should confess your true feelings. But then, you remembered why you started sleeping with Art in the first place: to get closer to Patrick. And so, you forced a smile and assured Art that you had a good time. "Yes." You breathed, pulling him into a deep kiss to avoid dwelling on the question. Sex was enjoyable, but it didn't live up to the glamorous portrayal in the media. Perhaps it lacked satisfaction without emotional involvement. You attempted to push these thoughts aside as Art's fingers traced down your spine, sending shivers down your body. Yet, whenever he kissed your neck or whispered sweet nothings into your ear, your mind wandered back to that photo.

●

It only took a couple of weeks for Art to ask you to be his girlfriend. The reason for that decision was still a mystery to you. Because outside of sex, which had gotten so much better with time, you weren't really seeing each other. Maybe he felt obligated after using up your holes so much. Perhaps he had asked you because he was so busy with you that he didn't have time to meet other women?

You had no idea how long it had been since his last partner because that boy was always horny. You would spread your legs for him every day, sometimes meeting him twice a day. And when you weren't together, you would receive grainy pictures of his erect penis. One positive aspect of all the sexual activity was that now he could make you climax most of the time. But you still wondered how he would manage to find all that energy after tennis practice.

The officialization of your relationship had been pretty much uneventful. He had uttered the words as you laid in bed, your face nestled in his hairy pits, fully inhaling his scent. Sex being the only time you could savor Art's faint smell of sweat. "Should we be exclusive?" His choice of words amused you because you knew for sure that he wasn't fucking any other girl since you already had the talk about giving up condoms and getting on the pill. You had thought about your answer for a second. In your wildest fantasies, Patrick would have been your one and only but you said yes anyway because being with Art was as close as it was to being with Patrick.

No one knew Patrick like Art. And Art knew a lot. He would tell you about Patrick's history, his family's business, his tastes in music, his previous girlfriends whom he always found weird, or about his seeding position before each tournament he would take part in. You were told numerous tales of their childhood adventures. You barely remembered Patrick's appearance as a boy. These anecdotes predated your teenage infatuation with Patrick, yet you couldn't help but smile at the genuine love with which Art recounted his bond with his best friend. While some stories were cute, some would turn you in unspeakable ways, like when he told you about his first experience with masturbation. You couldn't help but imagine them stroking themselves in sync, Patrick instructing Art on which move to make and Art acting like a studious learner. You could tell you were completely wet at the thought, so much so that you had suggested recreating the scene, masturbating in front of each other.

"Why would I jerk off when I have you?" He was hesitant at first until you grabbed his hand and slid it down your panties. Your underwear was soaked with your juice. Of course, he tried to insert a digit into you but you tugged on his hand to remove it from your pants. His hand and fingers were now coated with your secretion. "Use me as lotion."

You were both lying side to side, on your backs, Your eyes were focused on Art's hand grasping his tip. "Does that feel good?" You breathed, locking your half-lidded eyes with his. He nodded, breaking the contact with you and staring at your hand between your legs. "Describe to me what you're doing…" You found his request hot. "It might sound weird but I actually prefer my legs crossed, it creates more sensation. And then it's all about clitoral stimulation." You explained with a whine. Your hand was furiously rubbing your clit. It wouldn't take long for you to climax, you had done it so much, you knew how your body worked. "What about you? What do you like to do when you're alone?" Art was fisting his cock at the pace as you were stroking yourself. "I love holding it very tight, when it's on the edge of hurting." He grunted, tightening his grip. "Come for me.." He continued to stroke himself, twisting his wrist to his tip. The head of his penis was red and throbbing. He moaned your name and released himself all over his stomach. "Fuck, you're so hot." You turned to him, your hand still between your legs, rolling your hips at a faster pace. Your eyes were now closed and you were biting your lower lip as you could feel your orgasm coming. You grabbed your clit and let out a low moan. Your breasts were lifting with each pants as you tried to catch your breath. "Was I better than Patrick?" He laughed and pulled you closer into a kiss.

●

Being Art's girlfriend, the clean-cut and sweet guy, could have been worse. He would take care of you, speak highly of you, always make sure to include you in every activity he was a part of. You enjoyed his company but it was clear that you didn't love Art. Instead, you found yourself drawn to the fact that Patrick loved him.

Dating Art came with another perk : you always knew in advance when Patrick would come visit. And each time you would ensure to fulfill Art's every fantasy beforehand. The kinkiest, the better, as you knew Patrick would be the first informed. And if Patrick knew you were willing to do all those degrading things, he would undoubtedly reconsider his relationship with Tashi.

The only issue was that Art's kinkiest fantasies were still quite vanilla, nothing noteworthy. From riding him to doggy style to 69ing, there wasn't anything that really excited you. You had succeeded in broadening his horizons, but you were always the one taking the lead. You had to guide his hands to encircle your neck and coax him to tighten his grip. Most of the time, he was so gentle that you could still breathe normally. As for public sex, that option didn't even cross his mind until you had massaged his dick through his pants in so many rooms of the university that he was unable to hold back anymore and screw you against a wall behind the main building. You also had to suggest to let you ride his face. It didn't take much convincing for him to say yes. If that man was a thing, he was a pussy eater. But as always you always wanted to take things further and one night after he had released himself in you, you sat on his face and let his own cum drop down his mouth and commanded him to swallow it, which he did. He was lapping your slit like a thirsty man, scooping his seeds out of you with his tongue. He had enjoyed every moment of it, but you were confident that he never shared the story with Patrick. And if anyone asked, he would likely act as if it had never happened. You could tell by the way he would shush you everytime you would call him your little cumslut. His shame was so enticing that you would occasionally spit his semen back into his mouth after blowing him. Watching him swallow his own load was the hottest thing.

There also was a time when you practically had to beg him to fuck you in the ass. He was uncertain about whether he would enjoy it, but you were confident he would love it even more than you did. You reassured him that he could stop at any moment if he felt uncomfortable, and with that assurance, he agreed to try. Ever the considerate and attentive boyfriend, Art had spent days researching online how to do it safely. Knowing this made you tempted to sneak onto his computer and check his search history to find out what kind of anal sex content he had looked up. After an hour of prepping you with lube and his fingers, which had removed parts of the fun, you were stretched out and he was ready. You were ready too, but deep down, you knew you didn't need all that preparation to begin with, you just wanted him to spread you open. You grabbed the headboard, holding yourself as you arched your back when he shoved himself into you from behind. You didn't feel any kind of discomfort, you mostly felt… full. Your ass wasn't as sensitive as your cunt, the feeling was entirely different. "Move already, you asshole." You snapped at him before he grabbed you by the hips, lifting them and violently slammed himself deep into your core. Right in front of you was the picture of the two boys you were constantly looking at. You were starting to really enjoy it, staring at Patrick in the eyes while Art was pounding into you. "Touch me." You pleaded, grabbing one of his hands resting on your hips and placing it over your pussy. When he finally started spreading your folds and stroking your sensitive clit, you let out a growl. You were now bouncing back on his cock, rocking your ass against his hips as his fingers roamed their way to your opening, adding his middle finger. You whined, frustrated by his action. You didn't need his fingers in you, you needed the on your clit, abusing it. You grabbed his hand again and pressed it as hard as you could against your crotch. You were practically humping his hand at this point trying to create some friction against your bud. "You're such a horny slut." He was talking to you but all you could hear was his high cry when you would clench your anus and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You could feel him grow tenser in you, he was close to coming. "Pinch my clit, I beg you." You groaned as you could feel your climax build up. He acquiesced and grabbed your button forcefully, pinching it until you could feel your blood circulation being cut off. "P-..Art!" You cried out as you exploded. You felt him spurt his thick load into you. It had to be one of the best sex you ever had with him. Not having to watch Art's face as he climaxed was also a big plus. You despised it so much as it reminded you of the obvious fact that it was not Patrick. As you laid afterwards, tangled in sheets and limbs, you couldn't help but marvel at just how far you had come since meeting.

●

You were running low on ideas to spice things up, but your friendship with Tashi proved to be a valuable resource. Over the course of a month, your bond with Tashi had deepened. Despite not having much in common, and secretly hating her, you clicked well together. Additionally, you often joked about the unique situation of your respective boyfriends being boyfriends together, which led to a secret nickname between you: ‘The other women’. Having someone you could rely on was comforting, and Tashi felt the same. Being in a relationship with her boyfriend's best friend made you her confidante, and she would often confide in you, even though it was sometimes difficult to listen. Despite this, you couldn't resist the urge to learn every detail about her relationship with Patrick.

It had become a weekly ritual after a significant match: you and Tashi would retreat to her room, crack open a few beers, share a joint, and exchange amusing stories.

On one particular evening, fueled by a bit too much alcohol, you both felt mischievous. "Shotgun?" you suggested, and Tashi nodded, a smile playing on her lips. Taking a drag, you gently held her face and leaned in, exhaling the smoke into her mouth. Curious to understand the sensation Patrick experienced every time he kissed Tashi, you closed the gap between you and initiated a soft kiss. It was an innocent moment, devoid of sloppiness, yet kissing Tashi proved to be exhilarating. As you both pulled away, laughter bubbled up from within, leaving you both in fits of giggles. "Look at us, we could be girlfriends too!" Tashi suggested, her hands resting on her hips.

The notion wasn't as off-putting as you initially imagined. Tashi was undeniably attractive. If Patrick proposed a threesome, you wouldn't hesitate for long. You might not be experienced in eating a woman out, but you were willing to learn. After all, you had no knowledge of sucking dicks just a few months ago.

●

When Tashi was tipsy, she became so chatty it was difficult to stop her. But there was one specific topic she couldn't seem to stop talking about: Patrick.

She would complain about how he would never shut the fuck up during sex. And how he was constantly talking dirty to her, no matter the time and place. How was that a problem? Patrick could whisper his shopping list into your ear and you would come on the spot. Or the way he was always demanding blowjobs, even in the most random places. Was she aware that you would blow him on the tennis court in front of the audience if he would ask? She almost killed you on the spot when she mentioned how he liked coming on her breasts but she hated it. What a spoiled brat. You would let him completely cover you with cum without even thinking twice. You would even ask for more. His enormous uncircumcised dick bumping into her cervix and making her feel uncomfortable for days was apparently an issue too. It only sounded like the most heavenly way to die to you. Or when he would try to slide it into her ass which she refused to do. What a cunt.

You took a mental note to check all those boxes with Art so he could brag to his friend, like boys usually do, and make Patrick die of jealousy. "What about Art?" What about him? You thought about it for a second. You didn't have much to say about Art but maybe if you praised the quality he possessed that Patrick didn't, it would intrigue Tashi into experiencing it. "He's very attentive to my needs if you know what I mean." You held your index and middle finger up in a V and flicked your tongue between them which made Tashi snort. "Maybe that's cheesy but he's the best sex I've ever had." Only sex you ever had, but she didn't know that. You knew exactly what would pique the ever-demanding and controlling Tashi Duncan's interest. Leaning closer, almost whispering as if sharing a secret, you said, "He's a bit of a sub. Quite a strap fanatic." That was a lie. Once, you had suggested fingering his ass while blowing him, and he freaked out, insisting he wasn't gay, which led to a snort from you and an ensuing argument.

"Really?! Now that you mention it, he does give off that vibe." Tashi responded. Ah! Take that, Art. "Have you ever..." You mimicked a thrust. "...with Patrick?" She shook her head, slightly pouting. "No. Wouldn't it be weird if I refused to give him my ass but asked him to give me his?" You took a sip of your drink and shrugged. "I don't think it's weird, when you love someone, you are willing to do everything to make them happy." Of course that comment was targeted to her as well, planting the seed in her brain that she might not love him as much as you 'loved' Art.

To be truthful you actually knew even more than Tashi suspected about her intimate life. Every time Patrick would visit, you would sneak at night just to listen to them through her dorm's room like that first time. Except now, you had your hands down your panties massaging your swollen clit. It was even more exciting to think that someone might surprise you in the corridor. You had become intimately familiar with the sound of his balls slapping against Tashi's ass, his loud moans, how long he lasted, and the noises he made when he came. Sometimes, you would finger yourself to climax in sync with him. Afterwards, you would slip into Art's room and have sex with him without offering any explanation. Often, you would mimic the exact actions you had heard through the door, your eyes still fixed on the picture of Patrick on the wall.

●

You waited until dinner time to ensure no one would be in Tashi's room. Sneaking in and going through her things wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, you had been planning it for weeks. You had tried a few times before, but the door was always locked. Today, however, you grabbed the handle and pushed, and to your luck, the door opened. You stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind you.

Her room was unusually messy, a stark contrast to her typical tidiness. The disorder could only be attributed to Patrick's presence. His bag was tossed in the middle of the room, with his shoes and clothes strewn across the floor. You started rummaging through Patrick's things.You weren't entirely sure what you were searching for.

One of the first things you noticed was one of his rackets. Though completely worn out, you admired the shaft, noting how Patrick's sweaty hands had eroded the handle. The blue grip tape had turned brownish and frayed. Lifting the racket to your mouth, you kissed the handle, tasting the saltiness. Your mind wandered back to countless hours watching Patrick dominate opponents on court, sweat pouring down his face as he hit each ball with precision and skill. You pictured his toned arms flexing as he swung the racket, sending the ball hurtling towards his opponent. But tonight, the racket would serve a different purpose. A crazy idea had crossed your mind. If you couldn't touch Patrick, you could let Patrick touch you.

You slipped off your underwear, exposing your bare cunt beneath your dress. Sitting on the edge of Tashi's bed, you spread your legs wide open. Guiding Patrick's racket between your thighs, you closed your eyes and let out a moan, pressing yourself against its handle. As your body responded to the sensations, you gripped the racket tighter, drawing yourself closer to ecstasy with each stroke. You maintained the rhythm of thrusting the handle into your pussy while simultaneously rubbing your clit with the same pace. The intensity built with each thrust until finally, you cried out in a hushed moan, overwhelmed by pleasure.

You didn't take time to catch your breath as you had to be quick before any of them returned. Carefully, you pulled the handle from your folds and placed the racket back into his bag, relishing the thought of his hands covered in your dried juices during his next match. You pulled your panties back on. Now onto your next treasure.

Patrick hadn't packed many clothes, so stealing one of his shirts would be too obvious. Instead, you rummaged through his belongings and settled on an old, worn pair of socks. Bringing them to your nose, the initial whiff was pungent and overwhelming, yet strangely captivating. As you buried your face in the fabric, the scent became a heady mix of musk and earth. He smelled divine. Unable to resist, you discreetly tucked one of the dirty socks into your bra before quickly leaving the room with your treasures.

On your way out, you spotted Tashi's pink gym shorts, the ones she had been wearing earlier before her encounter with Patrick. Upon closer examination, you noticed an obvious wet spot on the front of the shorts. Whether it was Tashi's or Patrick's doing, you didn't care. Without hesitation, you grabbed the shorts and exited the room for good this time.

When you got back to your room, you couldn't wait to begin exploring those newfound objects of desire. You couldn't help but smile at your mischiefs.

The sock was perhaps your most prized possession. It carried the scent of Patric, Patrick after practice. You inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma before biting into the fabric, sucking on the spot where Patrick's toes had been earlier. You knew you were acting irrationally, but you couldn't resist. You were addicted to his scent, his taste, to him.

Next up was Tashi's shorts. You longed to mix your own wetness with Tashi's juices. However, when you attempted to put on the shorts, they wouldn't budge past the middle of your thighs. In that moment, you felt larger than ever before. Was this the type of woman Patrick desired? Reflecting on it, Tashi had a lean, sculpted body. Quite the opposite of yours. You tried to suck in your stomach, attempting to force the shorts over your hips, but to no avail. You had to confront the truth: you felt enormous. Perhaps your mother was right? It was time to start watching your diet. If you hoped to capture Patrick's attention, you had to become worthy of it.

You swiftly hid the items in a suitcase under your bed and decided to get to work immediately.

●

Youtube was a never ending source of working out videos. Every morning you had a routine of pilates and running around the block. While at first it had been hard to move your body so much while continuing to have enough energy to satisfy Art's needs, you were now used to the challenge. You were also following a strict diet. While the app you had downloaded suggested a 1200 calories a day diet, you were now down to 500 calories a day.

As you entered the cafeteria, you scanned the crowd for them. The trio had secured a spot near the window, leaving room for you. You settled in, placing your soda and an apple on the table. Greeting them, you cracked open your diet coke. "Hey you." You placed a quick peck on Art's cheek. "Your highness." You waved at Tashi "Patrick." You nodded your head in his direction "Hey. Well fuck, you okay?" You raised the can to your lips and glanced up at him, puzzled. Was his question directed at you? His gaze seemed fixed on you, leaving you uncertain. Was he concerned about you? You flashed your brightest smile and nodded. How could you not be okay now that you knew he cared? He raised an eyebrow and went on about his tour. He wasn't doing too well, and Tashi was giving him a hard time about it. However, he seemed to enjoy himself otherwise, sharing stories of parties and sightseeing in numerous cities. The boys were chatting energetically while both you and Tashi remained silent, only listening. It felt as if you didn't exist anymore. They had so much to discuss and were planning to stroll by the courts. You were jolted back to reality when you felt Art's soft lips against your nape. "See you later. Your dorm?" Art gave you a familiar look, the same one he always gave before asking for a blowjob. How amusing it was that nothing seemed to make both of you hornier than Patrick's visits. Patrick planted a gentle kiss on Tashi's lips. You already felt nauseous but now there was no way you were going to touch that apple. It pained you to see how your misery deepened as the months went by and Tashi and Patrick's relationship flourished. You knew this love was slowly killing you physically and mentally. The boys left the table, waving goodbye.

Wrapping his arm around Art's neck, Patrick put him in a headlock and guided him out of the room. You could still hear their voices. "Your girlfriend looks..." Was Patrick referring to you? Art's glance back at you confirmed it. What was he talking about?

As you refocused on your meal, you noticed Tashi sitting across from you, lost in her own thoughts. "Can I trust you with something?" You nodded in response. "This conversation stays between us." Despite Tashi being the primary obstacle to your happiness, she was now your only confidante, with Art no longer filling that role as he was way too busy filling something else. "Did Art mention another girl Patrick was seeing while on tour?" Another girl? Oh no, you could feel the anger growing in you. Was he seeing someone else? Tashi was one thing, but another bitch? You were RIGHT THERE, ready for him to fuck you into oblivion, why would he need another girl? "No, I never heard anything about that. Why do you ask?" She toyed with her food, clearly uncertain of how to proceed. "Art said Patrick is not in love with me." You couldn't believe your ears. Art had grown balls and was going on the offensive. Leaning back in your chair, you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms. "Uh. Did he?" Your mind raced to devise a strategy that would benefit you. "Do you think Patrick told him that?" You asked, trying to gauge the situation. "I don't know... I can't think of any other reason why Art would tell me that." She responded. Oh, you could think of plenty of reasons. "I swear those two are just waiting to drop our asses and just buttfuck each other." You sighed, trying to lighten the mood. Her lips twitched into a small smile."If you want my advice. You should talk to him. Like, it's ok to not be in love so early in a relationship, but it's not when there's a difference in intensity of feelings."

You hugged Tashi, gently rubbing her back and lightly tickling her with your fingertips. The heady scent of her shampoo and perfume filled your senses. You didn't want Patrick to love her, but at the same time, any guy who wasn't madly in love with her was an idiot. "Good luck tomorrow, champion. I'll be there to cheer for you." She thanked you as you left the cafeteria, abandoning your apple and can.

You walked back to your room, you had a lot to process. Art's scheming had added a new layer to your plan. Even if you benefited from Tashi and Patrick breaking up, would Art become a rival? What was his endgame? Did he want Tashi or Patrick?

You sat on your bed, still consumed by the fact that you had overheard Patrick mention you. Even though you had no idea what he had said, the thought filled you with joy. You longed to hear him say your name, to talk to you, touch you, kiss you, and more. Leaning over, you pulled out the suitcase hidden underneath the bed. Opening your treasure chest, you took out the sock and pressed it to your nose, savoring the fading scent. Your reverie was abruptly interrupted by Art's energetic knock on the door. Quickly, you hid the sock back in the suitcase and shoved it under the bed. You opened the door, and Art immediately jumped on you, smothering your face with wet kisses. "Art!" You whined, kicking the door shut.

●

Exhausted and breathless, you both lay intertwined, Art resting on top of you, his full weight pressing down, as you wrapped one leg around his hip. Cuddling you while still being inside you was one of his favorite things, which you found deeply bothersome. "Patrick said something earlier and I didn't really notice until now since I see you everyday but…" You looked at him curiously, excitement in your voice. "Patrick talked about me?" You could feel yourself getting in the mood again, the fire between your legs burning. This was so much more exciting than anything that had happened earlier. You slightly rolled your hips under him, trying to create some friction against your clit. He gazed at you, nibbling on his lower lip. That look made you wonder if he was now assured of the impact Patrick had on you. You hadn't been subtle about that one. "Yeah.. He said you have gotten really thin." So Patrick had noticed? This confirmed your suspicion, his type really was svelte girls, how shallow of him. You didn't care how bad that made him look though, you were a few steps closer to his type. You clenched around Art's length trying to get him to move as he went on about what Patrick had to say about you. But he didn't, he only huffed and kissed your neck.

You still had a long way to go to be perfect for Patrick. Tashi's shorts fitted you now but they were still quite snug around the thighs. "I want to get healthier. A couple of months ago, I was having a sleepover with Tashi and she gave me one of her pajamas. It was so tight, I could barely breathe. I realized how I had let myself go." You confessed wrapping your other leg around him, and grabbing his asscheeks in an effort to feel him deeper into you. If he wasn't going to relieve you, you knew what could get that little conniving bastard to. "Tashi always wears the best outfits. Wouldn't it be fun if we could lend each other clothes? I'd die to be able to fit into one of her tennis skirts." You knew that put ideas in his mind. In fact, you could feel himself growing hard again inside of you. "Just don't overdo it." He mumbled, his face in the crook of your neck. "Maybe I should get into tennis? I want a body like Tashi's. Her thighs are so firm and tanned." You rolled your hips once more under him to get him to start pounding into you. "Have you noticed how her breasts stand on their own? She doesn't even need a bra. She told me she doesn't even own any." Finally some movement. You let out a sigh of relief while he was biting into your shoulder. You had done it so many times before that you knew for a fact that he was trying his hardest to not pronounce the wrong name. "Have you seen how firm her ass is too? No wonder Patrick likes her so much." It broke your heart to say it out loud but you needed to bring Patrick back on the table. Art wasn't the only one who could get his little fun. "They make a hot couple though. He's gorgeous too." He was now aggressively thrusting, deeply buried into you. "His thighs.." You moaned, back arched under him.

You were aware that his mind was filled with images of Tashi while he was ball deep in you. Or perhaps it was images of Tashi and Patrick. Who even knew at this point? Watching his eyes roll back, highly responsive to your words, you felt compelled to propose something to him to add excitement, an idea that had been on your mind for months.

It would start with you being Tashi. Wearing one of her tiny tennis outfits, the kind that showed the underside of her ass everytime the wind blew. Pretending to train him to be a champion, calling a little bitch and insulting him at every mistake of his. You would make him overwork himself just to get a praise from you and even when he would do it, you would just command him to worship your cunt. When he would beg for a release, you would just let him jerk off while watching you play with your cunt.

And he could be Patrick. Even if you doubted Art had it in him. He would treat you like the little whore that you are. Making you gag on his gross sweaty cock right after practice. Wrapping his hands around your throat, while ramming into you. You would let him abuse every single one of your holes while reminding you how you're nothing to him and nothing without him. And even when he would be asking you to ride him, not willing to put any effort into fucking such a used-up whore, he would still be… dominating you.

Thinking about it, their relationship dynamic did not make sense. Was it a constant fight for dominance? Perhaps you had misjudged Tashi? But you couldn't be mistaken about Patrick, you knew him better than anyone else.

But you had too much on the line to make such a request anyway. In theory, he could only love the idea, but in fact? He was a coward who refused to see the truth. Would he call you a freak and put distance between you? And distance between you and him meant distance between you and Patrick. You couldn't risk that.

It didn't take long for you to climax, as you were already sensitive from the first round. Just a few precisely angled thrusts and Art's skilled fingers on your clit did the trick. You had to admit that Art had gotten better at pleasing you, you didn't have to fake it as much anymore. But it was also pretty easy when Patrick was occupying your mind. Art came a moment later with a low grunt. After a brief pause, he withdrew and rolled onto his back.

Your conversation with Tashi kept replaying in your mind. She appeared so insecure at that moment. How could she doubt Patrick's affection when he only had eyes for her? You were the best person to testify to that, as you counted the moments he glanced your way. Art had truly succeeded in toying with that poor girl's mind. Hold on a second. Were you feeling sorry for the woman who possessed everything you desired?

Art was now affectionately nuzzling your neck, planting gentle kisses behind your ear. Yet, his actions repulsed you more than it usually did. Were you angry at him because he had begun plotting to seduce another woman, or was it because he had taken a step forward in the race while you remained stagnant with Patrick? The scenario where he would begin dating Tashi, leaving you without him, Tashi and Patrick was now likely You found yourself in a position of weakness, a clear indication of the chaos in your relationship. You had shamelessly used him for months, but now that he was the one with the upper hand, that was unacceptable. It was time to call it quits. Art wasn't the one for you anyway. You were meant to be with Patrick. And Art was meant to be with Tashi or whoever else he pleased, you didn't really care anymore.

●

The next day, Tashi Duncan was playing against Maria Foster from Pepperdine.

Patrick's visit that week revolved around the match, and tonight marked his departure. It would be months before another opportunity. Although you hadn't yet ended things with Art, your plan was to do so after the match. There wasn't any certainty that things would progress your way after that but you needed him off your back. One idea you had was simply offering yourself to Patrick.

Showing him how much of a good girl you could be for him. His needy whore, little play toy. Dropping to your knees, your face buried in his balls, inhaling the exquisite musky scent of his sweat like an addict. You would then gobble on them like a starved woman. His hard sack felt warm and well-filled against your lips, it would take everything in you to not bite into them. You would then trail your wet tongue along his shaft following the pattern of his veins up to his head. Seeing his dick would be the well-deserved reward for all those years of longing. Without hesitating a second, you would pull his foreskin back, exposing his head and flick your tongue against it, paying extra attention to his slit, almost dipping your tongue into it wanting to taste every single drop of precum you could find. That cum was yours, it had always been yours. Wrapping your lips around the head, you would twirl your tongue around, tasting him fully for the first time before hollowing cheek, sucking him as hard as you could. You would probably slobber all over his length and he would love it, you were sure of it. With your head bobbing frantically, you would look like a maniac. You wouldn't even give yourself time to warm up before taking him whole in your mouth. The pain that would come with his crown hitting the back of your stiff throat was the most intoxicating part. Throating him desperately like the future of your relationship would depend on the quality of that blowjob. You would let him use your mouth like a fleshlight, fucking it aggressively, your nose crushing against the messy wet curls of above his cock. You would love the feeling of his strong hands pulling your head closer to buckle his hips into your mouth, his fingers pulling on your hair with force. Being able to breath would be the least of your worries as choking to death on his cock would be an honor. You would keep him in your mouth for hours, no matter how much your jaw hurt. But then your favorite part would come when he would. Swallowing his cum had always been one of your dreams but you wanted him all over you. You would pull away and stick your tongue out for him, drool running down your chin and clothes. Begging him to shoot his cum all over your face and tits, the same way Tashi refused to do. You wouldn't even bother to wipe his semen off, wearing it with pride, like a trophy, in Stanford's halls. But that was just an idea, of course.

In the worst-case scenario where you would be facing rejection, you planned to use Tashi's doubts about his loyalty as a justification. And like the exceptional friend that you are, you wanted to ensure he was worthy of your friend. You would both laugh it off and move on.

But before that, you were stuck with Art, who was acting distant. You could feel something had shifted last night. You were both aware of each other's plans and everything felt forced. You and Art had agreed to attend to support Tashi, as good friends should. Or at least, that was Art's justification. For you, it was obviously because you wanted to fuck her boyfriend. That very same boyfriend who soon would be sitting on the empty seat beside you.

"Where's Patrick?" You asked, disappointed by his absence. The game was about to start, Tashi was entering the court and Patrick was nowhere to be seen. Art was typing on his phone. "Seems like they had a fight." Art shrugged and rolled his eyes, like their altercation was something predictable. You could tell he had something to do with it. A fight? You couldn't help the smile on your face. That surely helped your case.

The game reached an intensity you hadn't witnessed before, with Tashi displaying an unprecedented determination to win. The ball darted from one end of the court to the other so swiftly that it was challenging to track. Tashi's backhands grew progressively stronger with each strike, her focus unwavering as she moved with agility. Suddenly, Maria Foster's throw forced Tashi to sprint across the court. In the midst of her movement, her knee gave out, causing her to stumble and fall.

With a scream, Tashi collapsed to the floor. Art sprang to his feet immediately, naturally the first to rush to Tashi's side. Could you blame him? If it were Patrick lying there in pain, you'd likely be by his side, holding his hand.

Without much of a choice, you had followed both of them to the infirmary. Waiting in the corridor for the ambulance to arrive was the best alternative to not witness their sickening intimate moment. Art had won the game. You also wanted to be available in case one of them would ask you to call Patrick. That way you would finally get a hold of his number.

But without a call, he showed up. There he was, finally, panting, his brown curls slightly disheveled, and his shirt clinging to his damp skin. Your smile faded into a frown as you noticed Tashi's shirt adorning his back, another indication of her ownership over him.

"Patrick, get the fuck out!" Art's raised voice startled you. Why was Art screaming at him? You didn't know the circumstances of the fight, but you could fathom Tashi being mad at Patrick. But Art siding with her and not his best friend? Was his friendship with Patrick just an excuse to get closer to Tashi all along? You would have never guessed how alike you and Art were.

Patrick walked out with red eyes and a visible lump in his throat, leaving the campus in a rush without a glance in your direction. That had been the last time you ever saw him.

●

Despite the weeks that slipped by, you couldn't help but cling to the hope that he might appear. That Tashi and him would somehow make up, that he and Art had maintained a friendship but no. Each morning you believed that today would be the day you would see his gorgeous face, only to have your hopes crushed by his absence. The disappointment became a part of your routine.

Art had left you for Tashi, using her recovery as an excuse. Although he never had the decency to formally end things with you, it was clear he no longer wanted to be around you. Every single free hour of his day would be devoted to training with Tashi or keeping her company during her physiotherapy. Sure, he would still smile at you from across the hall or kiss your cheek hello and goodbye when he would bump into you at the cafeteria. But there were no more texting or late-night visits to your room to release his built-up frustration.

It didn't make sense, Patrick was out of the way, it was the perfect time to make a move on Tashi. He just didn't. It was not like you were an obstacle either, if he really wanted you gone, he only had to say it. But maybe he wanted Tashi to believe he was still taken and harmless, just a friend without ulterior motives, a good guy helping her out of the kindness of his heart? How noble of him. It made you gag.

She wasn't any better than him. Tashi was avoiding you as well, likely feeling too guilty about her growing affection for your boyfriend to face you. Not that it mattered anyway. Patrick was gone. Forever. And it was all their fault. You hated them for it.

●

Stanford seemed rather dull now. You had spent months with them and had barely made any friends outside of Tashi and Art. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all spent alone from now on. At least the weight of your courses and the ever-growing pile of homework kept your mind busy. As for Patrick Zweig, he only crossed your mind from time to time at night when you would rub yourself to sleep. You had almost accepted the fact that you would probably never see him again. As you opened your laptop to begin typing your overdue essay, a notification on your Facebook wall caught your eye.

Patrick Zweig accepted your friend request.

You can find part two here.

♠♣♥♦

Tagging : @starrgurl46 @egcdeath @izzywags478

Thank you everyone for taking time to read my stuff. If you have any criticism, please feel free to send a message. I'm trying to improve my writing.

See you next time!

#challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #patrick zweig #art donaldson #tashi duncan #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers smut #challengers 🎾#the main character is unhinged i'm sorry #should i write more stuff?#writing in americanised english was a STRUGGLE #i'm sorry this is so long i was having a mental breakdown #fic : silent devotion

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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months ago

Text

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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zolass · 3 months ago

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Oh!!! Uhhh how about OC x bttm! Reader where reader is a much soft spoken/passive guy and OC is the one who teases him a lot? Bonus points if Reader takes a second to process suggestive jokes & is significantly taller than OC (because I've never read a taller bttm b4 LMAO)

MY MUSE ···─Tease! Rafayel x Taller! bttm Male Reader

Summary: Where you find yourself in the grasps of an famous artist, who simply asked you to be his muse and even paying you for it. But why does it feel like that there's more behind all the teasing from Rafayel. wc: 1.2k

tags: fluff, teasing, taller shy reader (reader is as tall as sylus), nudity, mentions of sex and multiple rounds, (pls tell me if I forgot smt)

Note: I'm sorry if you wanted smut with this one, or a different character. Hope it's still enjoyable. But ngl I like the dynamic T_T

You were sitting at the coast, your shoes dug in the sand as you squatted down. The waves barely missed the tip of your shoes, while you simply stared at the mesmerizing display of the ocean. Your fingers were playing with the sand absentmindedly.

So you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps in the sand, until a hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up surprised, you came face to face with the handsome male that you had been working with for a few months, Rafayel.

“Hey, beautiful.” Rafayel said, it was a common thing he called you by. At first it was a rather big surprise for you, but it made sense as he hired you as his muse. “Hey Raf,” you greeted him back with a small smile on your lips before you stood up.

Now it was Rafayel’s time to look slightly up at you. “I made breakfast and coffee– so the sooner we are there, the more time we have!” Rafayel said, while he grabbed your hand and pulled you along the shore towards the place you call your home since the last few months.

Many would question why you lived with the painter, all the while you’re ‘just a muse’ as some would like to call it. You didn’t have to pay for basically anything, freeloading off of the other. Of course at the beginning you wanted to know why he did it, just as confused as others would be, even going as far as not accepting the payment he gave you. But his words at the beginning simply were “creativity doesn’t wait around, so I have to grasp it while it’s simply there.”

Quickly you found yourself in the open kitchen, with a steaming coffee mug in front of you, and the simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As you were enjoying your breakfast in silence, Rafayel’s eyes were trained on your figure. Tall, even taller than him, soft locks framing your face. Your eyes that always held warmth in them, even when others would say he was annoying and too much when he wanted to paint another piece, you simply sat there in your own bubble, going along with his orders without speaking up about it.

After the first three days, Rafayel started to relax more, speaking more with you, having conversations while on and off ‘work’, soon he also started to make suggestive jokes, he loved to see the halt in movement of whatever you’re doing, taking a few seconds to take in his words before a beautiful reddish color would adorn your cheeks, that you would try to hide.

Maybe that was it, what made him slowly develop this warmth in his chest whenever he thought of you, was seeing you or was simply close to you.

The clearing of your throat brought Rafayel out of his thoughts, “You alright Raf? You didn’t touch your breakfast yet,” you asked with concern, lacing your voice. Rafayel couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach because of your concern for him, he quickly cleared his throat before he looked at you with a playful smile on his lips. “Just thinking about something– you know.. I don’t mind looking up at you, but I bet you would look better under me.”

It took a few seconds for the words to register in your brain, and as they did he watched as your eyes widened and face heated up, adorning your cheeks in a slightly reddish shade. You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and closing. A chuckle left Rafayel as he watched your reaction, “Okay if you’re done let’s start,” Rafayel started, as he cleaned up the table.

As he walked to the empty canvas, he couldn’t help but halt in his movement, a sudden idea in his head. “[name] you said– you would do anything as my muse right?” The sudden question surprised you. But you took a few seconds to think of how you should answer, so after a bit you nodded, before adding a yes.

Rafayel couldn’t help the giddy feeling in his stomach, it might be rather risky but he decided to do it anyway, who knew if he had the chance ever again. “Then– strip,” he said loud enough for both of you to hear.

You stared at him wide-eyed, “Pardon?”

“Only your shirt,” Rafayel quickly added, backing out half way. Yet he wanted to see your slightly toned chest, without a shirt blocking most of the sight. You were still kinda shocked, before you gave a short okay.

Soon you were seated on a small chair with a translucent cloth layered across your naked torso, your eyes sometimes looking at the concentrated face of Rafayel, his words still lingering in your head, before the silence was interrupted by a young woman with dark brown hair walking in.

Quickly you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide your exposed body, which was clearly a failure. Both of you stared at each other with wide eyes, a rose color dusting the woman's cheeks.

The clearing of a throat was heard, both your heads focused on Rafayel, yet his expression changed. “Didn’t think you would come by so early..” he said, with a slightly annoyed undertone which surprised you and apparently the woman too, “should I come back some other time-” Rafayel quickly spoke a sharp yes, before his eyes landed back on you.

Shortly after you both were back alone, a blush still coating your cheeks, your one arm trying to hide your chest, while you held yourself on the chair with the other. Suddenly Rafayel stood up and walked towards you, before standing still in front of you.

As he leaned down, you didn’t know what to expect but certainly not, that he would push a strand out of your face, with a charming smile on his lips, “You know darling, I love that you’re so tall– more room for me to leave marks,” he said. It didn’t take long for you to blush in embarrassment, biting your lip.

“Then why don’t you show me?” you asked in a whisper, first you thought he didn’t hear what you said, but instead you heard a chuckle and a hand reached out towards you. Looking at the hand and then at Rafayel, you could see the way he looked at you. Still rather playful but there seemed to be more of a seriousness hiding behind the exterior, “Sure, anything for my mesmerizing darling,” he spoke.

And so you found yourself that day in multiple rounds of passionate sex, different positions, all the while Rafayel fucked you into the mattress and filling your hole with one load after another and the sweet words were uttered from Rafayel’s lips. Lovebites and hickeys littering your skin, while you were held tightly in the other’s arm at the end of the day.

You both watching as the sun slowly dropped below the waves, a kiss was placed on your shoulder, “Like I thought, you look so fucking beautiful beneath me,” Rafayel teased. A chuckle leaving him as you hid your face, before he turned serious, “I want to take you out on a date, [name].”

It surprised you, but there you were already having slept with the man, so a date couldn’t be that awful right?

Rafayel waited for your answer, and as you said yes, he couldn’t help but feel oh so giddy. He hugged you close to his chest, “Then we go when you can walk without pain, hm?” and all you did was huff, as your ears also turned red, “sure,” were the only things you uttered before both of you watched the sunset, before you slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

#zolass writes #male reader #male x male #mlm #gay #fluff with a bit of smut #x male reader #male reader fluff #bottom male reader #rafayel x male reader #rafayel #zolass request #love and deepspace

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lullabyes22-blog · 4 months ago

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Real talk because you are THE resident Silco expert and all your headcanons are 100% correct: why does fandom think Silco would be good in bed? (Or good at sex at all?)

I've seen headcanons about him being a giver, and about his dick game being fire, and while he's a sexy, charismatic man, I feel like he's too... selfish, insecure, and just not a romantic guy. He's also a very bitter, lonely, and angry dude. Idk, it makes sense he would have some kinks but I feel like he'd be too much of a bitch to care for anyone else in bed. I guess he'd want it rough, and I've read some fics where he's a sadist, but I feel like it'd just be a quick fuck to satisfy himself, not a slow, passionate, sensual thing.

idk, do with this what you will.

I agree - with nuance 💗

Silco - at least as I write him in FNF - is principally a headfuck. If he's demonstrating an interest in you, then he wants something from you. If he's nice to you, there's a bottom line. No act of generosity comes without strings attached, and every small kindness comes at a terrible price. That aspect of cold-blooded calculus is never far away from his base nature, which splits the world into assets and liabilities, and his own actions into a transaction of cost versus reward.

With that in mind, he excels, not at sex, but at getting his partners to do what he wants them to do. For him, it's one of the many fluid ways of expressing power, and demonstrating his mastery over the subtleties of the human body and mind.

A few readers have noticed that he comes across as very detached and controlled during FnF's sex scenes - and that they read as weirdly voyeuristic. That always delights me, because it's an intentional choice. He doesn't really see his partner as anything beyond a medium to his goals, so his focus is entirely on their physical responses and his own actions. His narration is distant, observational and impersonal, because he doesn't experience sex as something that involves an emotional or empathetic connection. Rather, he's gauging how his target's responses play out on a physical plane, and he's calibrating his own actions to maximise their impact.

To give credit where credit is due, he's very intelligent, patient and observant. There is also some realistic backing to the running gag that Good D is invariably attached to Bad Men. More specifically, Bad Broke Men. Silco has not grown up in a position of privilege or wealth. He has been forced to make use of every available resource. He has survived by the skin of his teeth on a constant knife edge of deprivation, hunger and fear.

He's a scrapper. He's a survivor. He's an opportunist.

And to be any of those things, you need to know your way around people: their wants and weaknesses. That's the foundation for the idea that he's good in bed - that he can anticipate his partner's desires, and respond accordingly. The difference is, his actions have no romantic underpinning. It's a matter of pure pragmatism and self-interest.

In terms of technical skill, he's likely very good at finding his partner's pressure points, both literal and figurative, and exploiting them. But if it were up to him, he'd find a way to turn the thumbscrews with nothing more than a well-chosen word and a cold look. The sex is just a generality, and his enjoyment a function of their compliance.

When it comes to actual intimacy?

My friends, he'd be spectacularly bad.

Not just bad, but skittish, hostile and hopelessly inept. He'd feel like an accomplished stage actor who has to step out onto the boards for an improv class. He hasn't got the right lines, he isn't dressed for the part, and he isn't even sure what role he's supposed to be playing. He'd be so awkward, he'd actually have trouble looking his partner in the eyes. The sum total of his sexual ouvre would devolve into the following comedy of errors:

"What the fuck is this?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't touch me there."

"This is going well, right?"

"Why can't I get it up?"

"I can't do this."

"Leave me alone."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't leave me."

"They always leave me."

"Why does everyone leave me?"

And he'd only spiral deeper into self-loathing and isolation. To submit to intimacy is to open oneself up to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and the constant risk of rejection. To Silco, it is anathema. Actual emotional vulnerability during sex would be not unlike attending his own public execution.

But.

Silco is not a one-note villain, much less a one-trick pony. He has a human history riven in deprivation, bloodshed and betrayal. He's remade himself from a 'weak' man into the premier kingpin of Zaun, but that predatory bracing still hides remnants of the soft-natured idealist he once was. In fact, he's the product of a deeply embedded internal conflict between two distinct versions of himself. The one who seeks to burn his enemies, and the one who seeks to save his city. He's also, as demonstrated by his love for Jinx, capable of profound devotion, loyalty, and a deep-seated longing for companionship.

That means the potential for romance exists. It's just buried deep, deep, deep down beneath years of abuse, neglect, trauma, and self-imposed barriers. If he meets someone who can dismantle those barriers, or bypass them altogether and earn his trust, there is a ray of hope.

Sex would still be frightening and uncomfortable, and it'd involve a lot of trial and error. But it'd also have the potential to be deeply healing. Not because Silco would become a better man, but because his partner would make him want to try. He'd also bring the same intense focus, intelligence, and determination to the task that he applies to his criminal empire - which means that, once he does have his sea legs, Silco would have the potential to become a truly giving lover.

It's all about context.

And the context is always: will he take the gamble when he has nothing to lose, and everything to gain?

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #asks #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane headcanon #arcane headcanons #arcane meta #silco headcanons #silco headcanon #silco x reader

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sinfulsalutations · 6 months ago

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𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇ-ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

⋆ ★ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ɪᴅʀᴋ. ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪʟᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴘʟᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter - Actively drowns himself

Hunter thinks the best place he could ever be is buried deep into your cunt. He loves the feeling of every jerk of your legs, every single fold and crevice of your sex. Even then he feels like it isn’t enough, and presses himself to you so adamantly and for so long he leaves with his entire face drenched.

I’ve expressed before that his nose is a clit tickler and I still stand by that. He presses against it while he lets his tongue fuck into your hole, letting out heavy breaths that make you sigh and twitch against his face.

He wants everything from you. Wants you whining and bucking into him. Groans into your cunt “C’mon pretty, give it to me. Let me have it, oh, let me give you this,” when he’s making you reach your peak.

Tech - Treats it like a scientific experiment

There’s a method to making you orgasm thoroughly and pleasurably, Tech has discovered, and as a man of logic, it wouldn’t be correct to treat pleasuring you any differently than he does other situations.

The first time you let him between your legs, Tech takes his time to thoroughly take you in, and he collects his observations, infers what might make you cum the hardest, the fastest, and soon after he begins to run his “experiments.”

He concludes quickly that it’s all about the combinations of stimulation and how they’re applied, how hard or gently he sucks your clit in his mouth while his fingers probe your entrance, the speed of his index and middle pumping into you while his tongue gently licks around your folds. Tech won’t rest until he’s figured out everything that makes you click and cum.

Wrecker - Wants to be your chair

If you think Hunter is messy about how he eats your pussy, you haven’t seen Wrecker yet. This boy wants to be so roughed up and drenched you’ll be in need of a shower before he even gets his cock wet.

And he wants you to sit. Not hover, not squat, sit. You may express insecurities or worries of hurting him at first, but Wrecker is extremely adamant it’ll all be alright. I mean, come on. The man is huge, and any worry of crushing him is gone the instant he grabs onto your hips and situates you right on him.

Wrecker is incredibly eager when he laps at your cunt, tongue and fingers reaching any place he can, encouraging you to move and grind all over him so you can get your fill. If he gets your spend dripping down his chin and trailing down his neck, that just means hes given you and you’ve given him everything you can feasibly give, and he can wipe it away with a pussy drunk look on his face before asking if he can make you come again.

Crosshair - Does it more for himself than you

You could reasonably argue that Crosshair likes eating you out more than you like getting eaten out. This man craves it like he’s addicted, forever hooked on your taste, your body, every twitch and sigh and slight movement of your body forever ingrained in his mind.

Somehow, despite giving, he manages to be selfish. Crosshair is groaning into you, whispering things he knows you can’t hear because hes talking to himself (or your cunt). Even through that, he makes it good for you; being selfish doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable for the receiving party. If he’s slow and thorough about it (which rarely happens) he can make you see stars with the gentlest of pets. But usually, you come fast and hard. And no matter what, he makes you feel good.

Echo - Slowly but surely

Echo is probably one of, if not, the most romantic when it comes to eating you out. He doesn’t want you to do any work; “Don’t grind your hips, sweetheart. I’ve got it. Just feel good for me.”

Giving is something he feels is necessary to show his love and appreciation in the bedroom, so he wants you to lie back and let him make you fall apart at his own pace. And Maker do you fall apart.

Echo knows every single rhythm with his licks and pumps and sucks, every pattern he could follow that will make you feel so good your eyes are brimmed with tears once you do finally finish. But he’s quick to rise up and kiss them away, whispering little nothings while his hand traces the curves of your body, easing you back down from the high.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip @isaidonyourknees @salaminus @mekuiikore @crosshairscrustysock

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bisexualiteaa · 10 months ago

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fem reader x ghoul where he’s talking about how small she is?

Fun Size

Cooper Howard x Smaller Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Size kink, p in v, unprotected sex, p0rn w/o plot, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, body worship, establish relationship.

AN: Hey anon! I couldn’t figure out any other way to write this than as a smut so I hope that’s alright! I hope I could do your ask justice and that you and all my other lovely readers will enjoy!

Synopsis: Cooper loved that you were smaller than him, whether it was height, stature, weight it didn’t matter, he loved it about you. He wanted to make sure you knew just how much he loves his fun size. ❤️

This one is slightly shorter than my other works but I hope it is just as enjoyable! I’m actually a smaller framed person so writing this comes from a slightly personal place, I hope it can still be enjoyable to those of all body types. Our cowboy doesn’t discriminate and neither do I, know that you are all loved! ❤️

When he called you his lil’ lady, he called you it for a lot of different reasons. One; he was southern at heart, so a few terms of endearment were standard practice for him. Two; was because you were little compared to him, and he absolutely adored that. When he stood near you, he nearly towered over you, and his stature was quite broad compared to you. He could lift more than you, drink more than you, but what you lacked in size, you more than made up for in attitude. He had never seen someone have so much fight and so much poison in their sweet voice. He knew it’s what you had to do, in a dog eat dog world like this, you really had no other options. As much as you may have held a dislike for your smaller stature, he always wanted to assure you that he enjoyed it, and it was in these more intimate moments like this one that he really enjoyed that size difference.

His larger hand came over yours as he took you from behind, his fingers intertwined with yours as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck. He placed kisses against the sensitive spots along your skin, enjoying the moans leaving your lips as his hips slapped against your ass. “Cooper…” you moaned sweetly, your head raising a little as your mouth fell open, his cock brushing your g-spot with each drag outwards and nudged the apex of your cervix with each thrust inwards. “Love this cute lil’ waist of yours” he said, his free hand traveling along your frame, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. “These hands, look damn good holdin’ a gun in ‘em” he added, worshipping your body as it trembled beneath him, your whimpers and moans sounding like music to his ruined ears. “Everythin’ about you is perfect, darlin’” he finished, and you’d never felt so loved. You never really put much thought into your size before, knowing you were small put you at a slight disadvantage out in the wastelands because most people would take one look and consider you weak, but Cooper knew that was far from the truth. You were one hell of a woman, with firepower and attitude to put someone even taller than him to shame. You were stronger than most ever gave you credit for, and that was almost like a secret power for you. “In another life, I’d have put a baby in this lil’ tummy of yours. Watch you walk around all swollen where you gotta waddle” he said, groaning at the thought of having a child with you, he so dearly missed his baby girl from his past marriage but that was a thought for another time. He felt your walls squeeze around him at the thought, making him chuckle. “Ya like that thought, dontchya, sugar? Felt that pretty pussy tighten around me, you like the thought of me breedin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked with a perverted grin, making you whimper as your face and body fell hot. You’d be a liar if you said the dream hadn’t crossed your mind before but it was one you knew was impossible to think about, especially with how the world was now. You felt his fingers run down to rub tight circles against your clit, making your back arch and your head roll back against his shoulder. “That’s it, arch that back. Cum for me sweetheart, I gotchya” he coaxed, and it wasn’t long before you fell over the edge, the cry of his name leaving your lips like a prayer.

You gasped for air as you panted beneath him, your smaller frame trembling beneath him once more as the feeling rushed over you in pleasurable waves. You whined, feeling him quickly pull out and finish over your back, needing to conserve your resources of RadAway for just a little bit longer before using it again. As you collapsed on the bed, waiting for him to return with a damp rag to clean you, you had a great idea on how to really play with his liking of the size difference. You smirked to yourself as you watched him dispose of the rag after cleaning you up then himself, sneaking his shirt from off the floor and putting it over your tiny frame. His shirt pooled over you like a night dress, all baggy around the middle, sleeves coming over your hands as they almost seemed to disappear beneath the pool of fabric. The bottom of the shirt came to rest just around your mid-thighs, it was perfect. He looked up, giving a mix between a chuckle and a groan at the sight, feeling his dick twitch in his briefs as you stood before him in nothing more than his beaten up, bloodstained shirt. “Careful sugar, don’t start somethin’ you ain’t able to finish” he warned, seeing the mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips. “Not sure I catch your meanin’ there, honey” you replied teasingly as he scooped you up with ease, soon plopping you back down on the bed with him as he all but pounced on you, making you yelp playfully before giggling as he buried his face into your neck. “Ya look damn good in my clothes” he said, making you smile. “It’s a sight you can have every day if ya’d like t’ keep me ‘round” you responded, knowing exactly what his answer would be to that. “Think I’d ever get rid a you? You’re all mine, fun size” he said, making you giggle at the bad pun-based nickname he called you. “Wouldn’t want it any other way” you replied, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his bald head before falling peacefully asleep.

#fallout x reader #fallout smut #fallout #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

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waitforyrlove · 9 months ago

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alexa play . . . hands on me by Ariana Grande .ᐟ.ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: You and Matthew, never liked each other, principally after an incident at a party, and when you found out your childhood bestfriend was kissing the person you hated the most, making intrusive thoughts take care of your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: Smut, rough sex, fem!receiving, degradation kink, spitting, enemies trope!! || ⸝⸝ author’s note: this is for @fawnchives !

The dazzling LED lights dominate your sight, enveloping your vision as you walk thru the party your best friend has just kicked off.

several couples getting drunk and making out in the corners, girls getting loose on the dance floor by the song “Hands on me” by Ariana Grande, why not join on the dance floor?

Making your way to the dance floor, excusing yourself to pass thru multiple people, the party was definitely crowded.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you get closer to the destination, put everything good in your mind disappears when you bump in the person you wanted to see the least.

Matthew Sturniolo.

You and him never liked each other, and had a big rivalry since high school, well firstly he was always a bitch to you, secondly you couldn’t stand seeing his attractive face structure everywhere.

The red cup filled with beer, spilled on his shirt, well lucky him it was a black shirt, if it was a white one it would be worse.

Im met with the pair of his blue eyes staring at me deadly, it scared you at the same time, but why be scared at a two faced loser?

“You never watch where you walk don’t you?” His gaze meet your body, taking a long up and down look, observing every detail of the outfit you had picked.

“Why are you such a asshole?” You comment, your gaze meeting his a light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“You owe me a new shirt, y’know?”

“Too bad, in your dreams maybe it happens.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes staring to walk away, he watches your figure disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

03:46AM

Multiple songs you liked were on and that made the party enjoyable, you smile with your friend Lizzie as you walk to a couch together refilling both of your cups, sounds of giggles escaping your lips as you two were enveloped in talking shit about people you didn’t like.

“Y’know, I hate Matth-“ you cut off yourself as you look to a corner right in your front, but still a bit far away, your eyes met the tall figure of Matthew as he basically as sucking the neck of your childhood bestfriend, Mila.

A strong grip on the cup is planted by the strength your hands make, Mila knew you hated him but she didn’t help it and offer herself to the guy you despised.

“That two faced cunt.” You mumble, Lizzie looking at you confused, you land your cup on the nearest table, beginning to walk outside for some fresh air.

Sitting on the crosswalk, as the wind hits your face you look to the street cars passing by, but one car calls out your attention.

Matthew’s Lamborghini Urus, parked the closest to you, a wicked grin forms in your face as your mind forms, why not ruin his car?

There was a lot of possibilities to ruin it, but the easiest was keying his car.

You suddenly remember you have needle in your shirt, after a problem had happened with your pink jersey, removing carefully the sharp object, standing up and walking up close to the driver’s passenger part, kneeling down, you started keying his car, damaging the shiny black painting, a white long line in his passenger door.

You smile to yourself, nothing better that knowing how man act when their precious car is ruined, and Matt’s car being ruined made you happy, he had what he deserved.

As you stand up once again, planting the clothe needle again in your jersey turning around, you meet face to face with Matthew.

Oh fuck.

In your mind you thought this would work because if you damaged and you disappeared after, he wouldn’t know it was you, maybe he could have an idea, but still.

His gaze turns to a anger look as he looks at you, he had been watching you all the time, and this wasn’t good, he crossed his arms against his chest, his muscles flexing as his voice starts echoing thru your ears, shivers being sent down your spine.

“You think you’re that clever don’t you?” He says, before you could reply, he shuts you off immediately by speaking again.

“Not only you bump into me with your clumsiness, spilling your beer on my shirt that now, you had to ruin my fucking car.” Every word that he spit out of his mouth he got even closer to you.

“Well maybe I have my reasons to key your car.”

“Are you mad that Mila was kissing me?” The anger in his voice was still visible, but he couldn’t help it and let a chuckle escape his mouth as a smirk is on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe I am because she was my bestfriend, and she knows damn well that I hate you!” You exclaim, you cross your arms just like he had, as you interlock eyes with him.

“That doesn’t give you any stupid fucking reason to key my car.” You open your mouth to comment, but before, a hand creeps up on your waist turning you around forcedly guiding you to the passengers side.

“Let me go!” You utter, as you try to remove his hand off you, but his grip was too strong.

“Why don’t you shut up that dirty fucking mouth of yours, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you can feel the smirk he has on his face, opening the door for you, you enter on the car, sitting and remaining silent for the rest of the ride, wherever he was taking you.

The whole car ride was silent, after he drove it to a luxury neighborhood, you knew he was driving to his house, his jaw was clenched most of the time and he was going 305 km/h, it was too fast to your liking.

As he parked his car, opening the electronic garage, he quickly left his side, going the other way to open yours, he grabbed you by the wrist making you gasp at the sudden act.

“You’re too mad just for a little damage in your car, I was having fun at the party.” You lie thru gritted teeth, for a moment it was but the second Matt was there, it had ruin everything.

“You’re a damn brat, maybe we can put you in your place isn’t it?” He states, his jaw still hardly clenched, his side profile being heavenly, like a sorta of Greek God had structured it.

You roll your eye as he guides you thru the big mansion he owned, every part of the place with different paintings and different furniture.

As you both go upstairs, he leads you to his room, the same time you step your feet inside, he is locking the door and pinning you against the wall, your faces being inches close.

“Now tell me hm? You wanted to be Mila didn’t you.” His strong cologne filled your nostrils, the same way your sweet scent filled his.

His hands creep up to your inner thigh, a sudden gasp leaving your mouth as you remain silent.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Matt utters, his soft lips attacking your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks, as his right hand kept going even more up arriving close to your pink laced panties.

His hand went fast to your core, how fast it was taken of there, as he picks you up in bridal style, positioning myself in his bed, as he tops me.

He pulls away my pink jersey throwing somewhere across his room, if someone ever told me i would be getting naked with the guy I hated, i would probably slapped me across the face.

His large hands find way to my denim skirt yanking it off, now i’m only left in my match bra and panties, how nice.

“You don’t need to lie, you’ve always wanted this as much as I did.” He commented ripping off my bra, my mouth wide how easily he had the strength to rip off the fabric.

“You owe me a new bra, idiot.”

He chuckles, as he pushes you close to him, his face leaning close to your stomach as he plants kisses along the way.

He gets each time closer to your core, making you clench around nothing, he pulls your panties to the side, with no warning, his tongue is deep down in my pussy, as a long moan leaves my lips.

I can feel the stupid smirk as he eats me out, his hands gripping my thighs to not let me move, he pulls leans up again, getting close to my face once again, smashing his lips against mine in a heavy roughy kiss, making me taste my juices in his tongue.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The nickname made me wetter more then I was, i obey, sticking my tongue out, as he yanks his two fingers into, and i instinctively suck on them, dripping them with my saliva.

A wicked grin is planted on his face as the two digits are on my core, rubbing my puffy clit, as my mouth is open, soft moans leaving it which was music to his ears.

“Feels good getting pleasure by your enemy doesn’t it.” He expresses as his hands keep rubbing your clit faster.

“i still fucking hate you.” You spit it out, a loud moan leaving your mouth right after.

“The way your hips buck for more, it says otherwise doll.”

The please accumulated in your body leaves as he takes off the two fingers that were in your clit to his mouth, you watch him suck on it, tasting yourself once again.

Suddenly, his hands are removing his belt and his baggy jeans, seeing him in his Calvin Klein boxers, his hard cock wanting to be more than released.

Pulling his underwear down his dick hitting his stomach, you never had an idea he was that long, you can be a little thing but you like that long.

He leans down to your core, a full spit landing on it making you wince, your juices and his spit now combined.

He strokes himself a few times before slamming into you, a groan leaving his mouth as you moan in synchronization with him.

My head is thrown back, as he doesn’t give me time to adjust fully starting to thrust in and out of me, he wasn’t just some couple of inches, he had enough inches to bruise my cervix and leave me hanging for more.

“You liked being fuck like a slut don’t you?” He chuckles, keeping thrusting, my mind couldn’t even form words, my back arching for more, his dick had the perfect size to hit my g-sport.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, fuck.. I love it.” You moan our, your head throw back in his pillows, his hands finding way to smack your ass, the real meaning of pain and pleasure.

He smirks, as he gets closer to my face pulling me in a rough kiss, my moans being muffled by it, his thrusts were each time more rough then the before, he wasn’t like other guy that would fuck a girl just to cum inside her and leave, oh he was for sure waiting to see your face knowing he was the one giving you all the pleasure.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna.” Before you could finish your sentence you cum all around his dick making a mess in the sheets below.

“Making a mess on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

He pulls out, stroking his dick a few times before painting your lower and upper body with his cum, before collapsing on top of you.

Sweaty beads were formed during the act, your panty and heavy breaths in sync together, as you catch your breath all you could hear was his deep voice echoing thru your ears.

“Y’know, instead of watching me suck your best friends neck, if you ever need my hands on you, don’t be scared to ask, it is better then keying my car for that attention.”

#eternaldecisions #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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atrwriting · 1 year ago

Text

kisses and other sweet things (part 2) -- billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

hey party people :) posting this when I should be studying HAHA

send good vibes for my civil procedure final tomorrow many thx <3

I watched the scene where billy and ollinger fight and this very much inspired it lol enjoy

as always, warnings: smuuuut, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), dom!billy, brat!reader, violence, blood, pussy slapping, overstimulation

thank you all for reading!!! I love you all so much!!!!

ANYWAYS... part two:

neither one of you told… but it didn’t take long for the others to sniff the air and have an inkling for how the wind changed overnight.

in all honesty, it was billy’s fault.

the man found every way to remain close enough to be considered by your side since that night.

he would sit by you at dinner. he wouldn’t touch another woman. he always looked at you when he told a joke. he always looked at you when someone else said something funny. that joyful twinkle in his eye was reserved for you, and only you, and everyone had picked up on it. not to mention — he’d not only check his horse — but yours as well.

everyone knew what was up. everyone. absolutely everyone.

billy made it abundantly clear without even uttering a word that you two had participated in something similar to carnal relationship.

…but, in all honesty, you didn’t mind.

you would’ve preferred to talk about it, sure. what prevented you from bringing that up to billy was that you didn’t have to pry respect and loyalty out of him — the man just did it, and because he wanted to. it was… okay, fuck it — you have to admit it to yourself: it was nice. billy the kid showing you slightly more than common decency and general enjoyment of your company was nice. you were worried about bringing it up to him at the idea of losing the potential staple of someone having your back, and them trusting you enough to have theirs.

you were fucked. totally fucked. absolutely fucked. no way around it.

the man was a mysterious fuck, as well — looked at you like you were an angel, but has fucked you like even the devil would avert its eyes from the debauchery. respected in the streets, and disrespected in the sheets — every woman’s dreams.

the one unfortunate aspect was… the others. you can usually ignore everyone, and anything — only way to get through life. however, the severity of the teasing had begun to worry you.

it first began with a curt up-down look of when billy always found his way to dismount from his horse and walk next to you. it wasn’t like he was guarding you, no… neither was he following you like a puppy. it was like there was a new form of respect there — and given the fact that most of the men still looked at you like you were just a silly girl, they noticed it. for a split second, in your stupid mind, you thought it would maybe make the rest of the men treat you better — but how could you ever think that? you rolled with these guys because their very existence was about disrespect and taking for themselves.

billy had made you bot outsiders — more than you already were.

like… maybe you weren’t together… but you had each other. you weren’t sure if you could count on him yet — but his actions were… well, they confused you. and you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad confusion yet.

there had been very few moments of privacy, so you were not able to catch him alone and speak about what happened. at first, you figured you both would go about your lives as usual… not wanting to expect too much from a man who appeared to live as he wanted when he wanted to. however… you didn’t expect that how he wanted to live his life was, well — apparently by your side.

unfortunately, thinking things over was not a freedom given to you without obstacles. many of them began giving you and him looks — and then the teasing started. instead of being known by name or a nickname, the men could be heard calling you “billy’s girl” in hushed tones.

you feared the day they finally bucked up the jewels and called you his whore. you knew it was coming — you didn't want it to happen, but you knew it was. you couldn't afford to be naive.

if anyone else called you his girl — you might’ve blushed. you almost relished in it. however, when men who barely respected women called you that and you both worked with them — you knew they didn’t mean it fondly. it annoyed you, especially when you hadn’t been able to even talk about it with billy.

were you his girl? were you a fling? would billy fuck another woman if given the chance? and honestly, did he tell anyone?

questions ran through your head with very few conclusions approaching. you thought their teasing would be the worst of the worst — until it wasn’t.

no… the worst was when billy had fought one of them.

a few days after the teasing had begun to get bad, you had finally stopped at another boarding house and bar with the other boys. you figured you would retire early and let them have their fun — but that would not be the case.

when you eventually had drank your share of booze and went upstairs when the girls came around, that was when ollinger had opened his big, fat mouth.

“when billy’s done, can i get a turn?”

you froze in your tracks.

this was your worst fear — losing their respect. you had worked tirelessly to earn it, and there had been times where you felt like you never did. you may never have had their actually respect, the kind they give to men — but they never did something like that. and when all of them laughed, and began to hoot and holler — that’s when you knew where you stood with them.

fucking billy.

but that wouldn't stop you, no. they brought you on because you were a pretty thing with claws — and that's what they were going to get.

“known you longer than i’ve known him. can’t say you’ve ever peaked my interest,” you spat as you turned around to face him from a few feet away. “don’t know if you’re man enough.”

he stood then, eyes wild. he held the neck of a bottle in one hand and immediately took a swig, appearing to ignite the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his steps toward you.

“you want me to show you a real man, sweetheart?”

you took a step forward, afraid to back down. you narrowed your eyes at him. “you want me to show you how i’m a better shot than you, sweetheart?”

he stepped closer to you then. you didn’t budge — you weren’t sure if that was out of pride or fear. when he stepped closer, the stench of liquor leaked from his mouth like smoke from a wildfire. a smirk was plastered on his face, and staying still and silent was the only thing you could do to hold your ground.

“you know what that makes you, right?” he spat in a low tone. “makes you billy’s whore.”

you couldn't help it — your face twisted with shame and anger. your vision was going almost as red as ollinger's, and you weren't sure if both of you would survive the next action that came from you. before you could process the impact of his words, let alone respond — billy spoke up.

“shut your mouth, ollinger.”

your eyes flickered over to where billy stood with his hands balled at his sides.

ollinger took another swig of his bottle before he turned and stalked over to billy. billy didn’t flinch, but simply watched a drunk ollinger try to keep his cool. the entire group watched — and waited.

“you don’t tell me what to do, boy,” ollinger sneered, clutching his bottle. “you ain’t special. i ain’t never seen anything special about you.”

billy reached for his gun, but did not pull it out. billy’s hands were shaky, and that’s when you realized it — he was drunk too. “alright then — let’s fight it out.”

“i ain’t fightin’ you with a gun.” ollinger brushed off billy’s comment with another careless swig of his drink. “you ain’t that important.”

“then let’s fight with our fuckin’ fists.” billy discarded his gun and the belt it was usually kept in. “like men.”

ollinger’s eyes showed a peak of interest.

your eyes… well, they showed terror.

ollinger walked towards billy with a dip of his chin that suggested he would enjoy the aspect of hurting billy more than winning anything over billy. ollinger already thought he was better than billy, he didn’t need to win anything — but that look in his eye? when predator was threatened by another?

without his gun, you were worried for billy. frankly, billy should’ve shown it — or at least you thought he would. ollinger had at least a decade of years, strength, and experience on billy. not to mention — ollinger has also had a vendetta against billy since they met.

ollinger immediately threw of his belt. “i’ll beat your ass any day.”

as ollinger drained the rest of the bottle, you could hear the hollering of the other men around you as they drew closer. ollinger threw the bottle to the ground and stalked towards billy.

as billy was about to start pulling off his vest, you stepped up to intervene.

you’d at least like to talk to him before he died.

however, jesse stepped in front of you. “can’t get in the way of two men fighting, doll.”

you raised your eyebrow at jesse. “ill cut your cock off.”

jesse only laughed, but kept his arm outstretched in front of you.

with years of experience… you thought ollinger would fight fair — but he caught billy with a jab before billy could get his vest off. you lunged for the pair, but jesse and some of the others held you back.

you didn’t know what to do. sure, you believed in billy — but the man had a tendency of getting his shit rocked in hand to hand combat.

ollinger let out an excited battle cry — and your hate sank into your stomach. billy struggled to get up as you fought against jesse.

“come on, billy!” ollinger baited. “come on, billy!”

you watched the look in billy’s eyes then — assessing the threat. billy immediately dodged a punch over his head, came back up, and started slamming ollinger’s head against a wooden post.

the excitement of the men around you slightly died as they realized that billy didn’t fight like other men — he had no interest in punching, or relishing in getting a lick in. he went straight for a possible kill shot, grunting as he hoped to subdue ollinger.

there would be no stopping either of them. you relented against jesse’s arm, staring at the two men. your mouth parted in horror, and your stomach dropped at the sight.

billy eventually threw him over the picnic table like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. his grunts were predatory — powerful and fucking masculine. fighting was fun for ollinger — but this? this? for billy? this was necessity. he didn’t care about asserting dominance — he cared about being left the fuck alone. he needed to make sure ollinger never fucked about him again. dominance was worth nothing if you didn't have survival.

billy, still intoxicated, stumbled over to where he had thrown ollinger — but ollinger was too quick. he grabbed billy by the boot and threw him back. billy landed on his ass, and you watched in fear as ollinger stomped toward him. his eyes were wild and his mouth was curled into a bloody snarl. you wanted to get involved, you knew you should’ve — but what could you do? this was what happened when you rolled with men like this — they had to fight this out themselves, or they would become everyone’s problem. you hated it — every fucking minute of it — because this problem started with ollinger’s disrespect for you and how you could cut his jewels off before he could even get a kiss in. poor billy…

but not poor billy.

no, not poor billy — because when ollinger stood over billy, billy kicked him so far backwards that ollinger then stumbled and fell on his ass.

billy was up in an instant, stumbling, and smacked the absolute shit out of ollinger with an open palm. ollinger flew backwards for a second time that night, and suddenly the men grew more excited watching the fight. all you could do was trail behind them — worried.

billy walked up to the porch and stood above ollinger, but ollinger’s wounded pride had gotten the better of him. he took billy by the cloth of his shoulders, and slammed him repeatedly against the wooden wall of the outside of the house. jesse and his friends were cheering on billy, but all you could hear was his pained grunts. and then, just then — the moonlight had caught billy’s face just right. his eyes were screwed shut as the pain registered from the blow — and blood was pouring down from his nose and into his mouth. billy fell against ollinger in exhaustion, and that was when pat garett started cheering louder and louder.

“please,” you whispered, helpless.

in an instant, billy had gotten his elbows up and clutched the shoulders of ollinger’s shirt. with (basically) a battle cry, he willed himself to push ollinger off of him, in front of him, and then in through the doors of where all of the other men were with their women.

you followed jesse, pat, and the others.

billy and ollinger immediately crashed into the floor of the house with grunts and screams. the men once getting blown or ridden were now cheering on the fight, and the women above them or at their feet were stunned and confused — worried about getting hit.

this time — billy had gotten up before ollinger. ollinger may have had years of experience on billy, but years were years: ollinger was old, and exhausted. billy stood up and began laying overhead punch after overhead punch onto ollinger.

“get up, ollinger!” he yelled, eyes black. “get the fuck up!”

immediately, billy pulled back. like you had thought — he didn’t need the kill shot, but he needed the threat subdued. billy was breathing heavy, he was bleeding… you were so worried for him. jesse pushed past you and grabbed billy’s arm, raising it above his head.

“boys, we got a winner!” jesse cheered before everyone followed in suit.

billy fell back against the nearest bed and sat down. it just so happened that was a bed that your oldest friend was sharing with a woman. stunned, the woman grabbed billy by the shoulders to steady him. she wiped some of the blood off of his face with his shirt. you were thankful — but then her smile turned big when she realized how handsome he was.

your blood boiled.

you watched at his big eyes darted up to her face as he tried to regain his composure. he took one look at her face, your friend, and got up.

he spat once on the floor, cleaning his mouth of any excess blood. over his shoulder, he threw, “no hard feelings, ollinger.”

and started straight towards you.

you stood there, in the back behind everyone, frozen in place. billy was in front of you in as little as five strides. thankfully she had wiped his face — because he only tasted vaguely like blood when he grabbed you by the face and pressed your lips to his.

he cupped your face with one hand, but it held you in place like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. with his finger stroking your cheek, you kissed him with every bit of fear, frustration, and excitement you had in you. your lips folded together like you two were the only ones in the room — and like everyone in the room wasn’t cheering for the clear winner of the fight, and the kiss with the girl the fight was started over.

billy had stood up for you. the one man who had actually ever done that.

against your lips, he whispered. “i know you could handle himself yourself — but you shouldn’t have had to.”

you giggled against his lips, yours stretching into a wide grin. he pecked your lips a couple of times, unable to get enough of being the only one to be able to do this. he replied, “never had much taste for these girls — had a different one in mind.”

“you gonna take her somewhere private, cowboy, or what?” you asked.

billy’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he bent low, and hauled you over his shoulder. your feet kicked in front of him as you struggled to hold your hat in place and keep your balance. you were shouting at him, but nothing could be heard over your giggles or everyone else’s whistling. with one firm arm circling your hips, keeping your ass in place with his massive hand, he kicked open the doors and brought you upstairs.

“billy, if you don’t put me down —“ you laughed, breathlessly. threats were futile. “i swear —“

“shhh, sweetheart — you know i’ll take care of you,” he responded.

billy found an empty bedroom and immediately went to work. he sat you down on a low dresser and immediately started going for your riding pants and shirt. you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of the fabric as billy stood over you.

with one hand pressed to your cheek, he kissed you once more. you pulled away to smile at him. you spoke, “thank you… for what you did.”

“ollinger needs to know when to shut his mouth,” he spoke, engulfing you in a kiss once more. “should’ve made a move if he was jealous. now i’m the only one who gets to have my face between these pretty thighs.”

he pulled you by the hips so you were almost hanging off the edge, your feet flat against the wood of the dresser. you were breathless as your head began to swim. billy got down on his knees, parted your thighs, and dove for your slit.

your head immediately hit the wall. you wanted to arch your back — keen towards him — but you had limited mobility. you were at the mercy of the man before you who was lapping at your clit like nothing else existed. you should've been worried about his injuries, the dried blood on your face... but you couldn't. you didn't. billy was satisfying every bit of desperation you had felt since that night and you were too strung out to fight him. strained moans left your lips as your hips began to buck into his face.

“billy, stop…” you whined. “i want you inside me…”

he didn’t listen. the man kept his tongue drawing all kinds of messy, wet circles around your sensitive bud that pulled every dirty whine out of you. in an instant, billy pushed two fingers into you and immediately started pumping them. you lost your breath — and your ability to speak coherent sentences as well. he was tapping against your upper wall, pining for that sweet spot that was gonna make you sing for him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried. one of your hands found his tangled mess of curls and fisted your fingers through them. billy’s tongue was thick, hot, and the roof of it was rough as he shook his head against your center, increasing the friction. your hips and legs were spasming uncontrollably as a warm feeling spread from your abdomen. “jesus christ — you’re so mean.”

the air seemed to shift in that moment, but you were so lost you couldn’t comprehend. billy wrapped his cracked lips around your clit, and pulled at it and sucked. hard.

your eyes screwed shut as a cry vibrated through your chest and into your throat. it hurt, god it hurt, but in the most bittersweet way you could imagine. it was like pain and comfort all in one, delivered by the same hand, driving you into submission. every blood vessel was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for billy’s movements and you couldn’t regain control — and you weren't sure you wanted to.

he suddenly pulled away. “you think i’m mean, sweetheart?”

his blue eyes pierced into yours when he picked up his head to face you. his eyes were raised in a manner that suggested he expected a response, but you were still in your daze. your eyes were glossy, your lips were puffy and parted, hoping he'd answer his question for you.

billy didn’t like that. with his free hand, he slapped your clit.

your body jolted, surprised at the sensation. it made your breath catch in your throat as all of your senses were on red alert... but it only made your pussy throb harder.

“billy…” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. “you’re teasing me.”

his dry thumb began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, and the mixture of your slick and the rough skin of his dumb drew you into his control. in that moment — in that raw, vulnerable moment — you couldn’t think of anything else besides billy, and getting him to make you cum.

“mean, that it, sweetheart?” another slap to your clit. “you want me to show you mean?”

even in your haze, you were a brat at heart. with a smirk, yet shaking from how sensitive you were, you smirked at him. “don’t think you can.”

in an instant, he was on his feet. you struggled to ring out your tense muscles and stand with him, but billy wasn’t having it. he flipped you around so you were on your stomach on the dresser, legs hanging over the edge. billy pulled your hips up for you to stand on your toes, forcing your ass into the perfect position for him.

“slut for only me, huh?” he asked, kneading the skin of your ass in his hands. he slapped it once, twice, thrice — ripping little squeals from your petal pink lips. his thumb found its way into the outer folds of your pussy, barely entering. “won’t throw even a pity glance at anyone down there — but something about me just gets you this wet.”

he pushed his thumb into your sopping wet hole, and you squealed. you held onto the dresser to give yourself leverage to push yourself into his hand, but one of his hands held down your lower back.

“more, please…” you whispered.

“that smirk made me think you don’t deserve it,” he spat, still playing with your pretty pussy.

“billy —!” you screamed with exasperation. “please!”

with his thumb still in your pussy, billy leant down and wrapped an arm around your throat. with your neck in the crook of his elbow, he pulled your back to arch up towards him. billy placed his lips right by your ear, and spoke, “is that who’s got you this worked up, baby? huh? me? be sweet, and maybe i’ll kiss those pretty tears away.”

you hadn’t even noticed it — but he was right. your cheeks were stained with tear streaks that made them damp. with broken breaths, you spoke, “please — i promise.”

he began to pump his thumb into your pussy, while his other fingers worked light circles around your clit. “promise what?”

“that i’m — that i —“ you couldn’t get the words out. you were a struggling mess — clinging to the dresser with the little strength in your hands you could muster, and completely at the mercy of billy’s hold. his breath was hot against your face as heat rose throughout your body. “i —“

“fucked so dumb you can't use your words?”

“fuck —“ you cried, already almost succumbing to the feather light touches on your clit. “you’re the only one, billy — only one — please, just let me cum.”

“yeah?” he grunted. “gonna take what i give you?”

“anything, billy —“ you gasped. “please — just want you.”

billy kept his promise. he pressed his lips against your cheek, pushing your head slightly to the side. every muscle in your body was taut with trying to remain balanced and stay perked for every one of billy’s moments. his fingers in your clit began working faster and harder, and your body began to shake. you were so sensitive to everything around you — his kisses, his chokehold, his heat on your back, his fingers buried deep in your folds. you bucked his hips back into his hand, and everything exploded.

without billy’s hold, you would’ve collapse into the dresser. your knuckles were white as they bent, causing your nails to rip at the wood of the dresser. you back was arched completely towards the ceiling as you tried to remain in position. billy was whispering nasty, nasty, nasty things in your ear that coupled with your delicious moans.

“that’s it, baby, just keep cumming for me,” he rasped, groaning in your ear. “can be such a brat — but she’s got the prettiest pussy. i know what makes my girl tick.“

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you cried, falling against billy’s shoulder. the world melted before you. your eyes were drifting open and closed. the haze had consumed your brain, and each of billy’s movements made a whine well up behind your closed lips. “fuck, billy, i can’t —“

his fingers didn’t stop, and you felt like you were about to collapse. “oh, sweetheart, too much for you?”

you were practically fucking sobbing at this point. “n-no-no—“

“greedy, baby,” he said, licking at your cheek. “thought you were gonna take everything i gave you?”

“your cock, billy — please —“

“naw, sweetheart,” he said stroking your cheek. “think you’re in over your pretty little head. can’t take anymore.”

“no, no, billy — i want your cock so bad —“ your whines were music to his fucking ears.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, shimmying off his pants. “you want my cock? think you can handle it?”

“i can, i can, i can —“ you chanted, your head swimming. you felt billy’s hands spread your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. his cock slipped in through your folds until he bottomed out, pressing his hips firmly against your back side.

with billy’s mouth still so close to your ear, he rasped, “sucked my cock into you, doll. couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

you arched your backside into his hips, eagerly hoping to meet every thrust. billy had once hand holding your hips down, and the other was clutching the soft, supple skin of your throat. you could hear every labored breath of his, mixing with your own. this position was unlike any other: from the back was usually reserved for women of the night, but holding you? in such an intimate manner? with his lips dragging across the skin of your cheek? waiting for how you reacted to his touch?

you were a mess. mud in his hands — dirty and messy and everywhere —needing him to keep you together.

“nothin’ feels better than you inside me, billy,” you whined.

“i know, darlin’, i’ll always take care of you,” he groaned, lips pulling at your ear lobe which sent your nerve endings on fire. “don’t know how you do it t’me. y’let me, and i'll always be back in between these pretty thighs.”

the groan you let out was hoarse in the most feminine way. your hair was splayed out all around you, cascading down your back. with every thrust, your nipples, taut, hit the cool wood of the dresser and mirrored the smallest bit of pain you needed to leave reality. your skin was flushed and tainted with every touch and caress from billy he gave you. when he saw the blush on your cheeks, and the tears staining your long lashes — he could’ve come right then.

his girl. his pure, fucked out, sweet and scary girl. all his. a force to be reckoned with, but the prettiest sight to see. and you were all his.

however, he wasn’t through with you yet.

no. he was so mean, and he knew it — but he didn't care.

not when he had finally had you after so long.

it was right then that billy promised himself he would never neglect you for so long ever again. he knew that no one had ever touched, fucked, or loved you like he did. he knew that you never let anyone even get as close to him as you let him that night, and he would never forget that — nor would he be so careless as being ungrateful.

his girl — flushed, pink, and finally being able to know what it means to be so vulnerable with a man that she would never know an orgasm like this. he would set the fires of hell on anyone around you if it meant that you could feel this free, so wild, so yourself for the rest of your life. he knew what he had to do next.

he pulled out, and flipped you over so you were back against the wall and sitting up. he immediately stepped in between you and pushed your thighs and legs up so your calves would rest on his shoulders.

“need to feel how deep that pussy can squeeze me,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your folds.

you moaned at his words and movements, practically sand at this point. your body was numb and on fire and in water all at the same time — leaving you completely out of control. all you needed, no — craved was billy sending you over the edge. over the edge, please, over, over, over, need it billy, a pathetic mess you were, but neither of you would change it for the world.

billy began pistoning his hips into yours and you immediately leaned forward to grab onto his bulging biceps. you felt every hot breath hit your face with every thrust. the room was so hot, stuffy, humid, and yet you didn’t want it to end. all you could feel was your tight, soft walls squeezing the living hell out of billy and his beautiful cock.

“‘m gonna cum, billy,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a good girl f’me, huh?” he bit. “always takin’ everything i give her. takes my cock so well.”

“only for you, baby,” you cried again, throwing your head back against the wall.

“oh — i don’t think so, sweetheart.” his thumb immediately went to your clit, drawing rough circles on the overstimulated rosebud. "i get to see those pretty eyes when you cum."

your body immediately went taut, sitting up. the slight shake of your limbs was apparent to both of you, and you let out little gasps because of how far you were driven from reality. his cock was pounding against that one sweet spot that made your knuckles white and your teeth bury themselves into the plump of your bottom lip.

“can’t,” you cried, tears beginning to flow once more. "oh, baby — i can't, i can't..."

“i know this pussy can handle it,” he bit. “what happened to being sweet, sugar? huh? goin’ back on your promise?”

his words were the last thing you heard before your body fell mercy to uncontrollable ecstasy. your mind, numb, was thrown back and forth between the throws of passion and the pull and push of billy’s hands bruising the flesh of your hips. you pressed your forehead to billy’s, sobbing through your gritted teeth. tears were pushing through your shut, wrinkled eyelids, and all you could hear was billy begging — coaxing that last orgasm out of you.

billy had won the fight, and he had earned every fucking orgasm he had given you that night. he needed it, he earned it, and he would not be denied it. testosterone was mixing with his blood, making his veins pound, and all he could think about how the scary and sweet girl he won a fight for was weak and needy for his touch.

desperate for a comfort that she hd only allowed him to give her.

he detached your foreheads so your faces were almost pressed together, sides of your noses touching. his lips were brushing against yours — but they weren't kissing you, no. instead, they were reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

“sweetest fuckin’ girl i know.”

"luckiest guy in this whole thing — you get that? all fuckin' jealous of me."

“knows exactly what to do to fuckin’ please me.”

“pussy just won’t stop cumming, sugar? bet you hate me so much, huh?”

with one final pull of pleasure in your muscles, you screamed his name with a sob. a fucking sob. you were drenched in sweat, your own slick, and tears. fucking tears. they were everywhere — down your cheeks, your neck, and all over billy. your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, and you weaved your fingers through the tendrils for stability.

that was when billy’s orgasm hit him: when you were so weak you could do nothing but cling to him and cry for his touch.

the throaty groan that rumbled through his chest was unlike anything you ever heard. it was animalistic — a primal need was satisfied and everything in his body was singing at the release. he clutched your body to his and your skin warmed at the embrace. he delivered three final pumps into your puffy, pink pussy, and you couldn’t do anything besides take it. you didn't want to do anything else besides take it. the sound of his moans sent every hair on your body standing at attention and your fingers were stroking his soft skin for comfort.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, cockdrunk. “love when you're the only one that gets to use me like this.”

at that, he knew you'd be the death of him. he accepted it, and he was okay with it. — happy, even.

you were peppering kisses all over the side of his face as he was coming down from his high. a sleepy haze settled over his eyes, but instead he captured your lips into one final embrace.

“this is the second time this evening i’ve had my shit rocked tonight, darlin’, all because of you,” he whispered. “no dull moment with you, huh?”

“never, baby,” you whispered, letting your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned against him.

“good thing you’re mine,” he quipped, pressing a long and hard kiss to your cheek. “never could share a sweet thing like you.”

----

im buzzing after that

love u guys hehe

-L oxoxox

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