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tapenbreak · 14 days ago

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𖦹. “𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔?” — (𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘)

𖦹. — 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. as they say, every innocent church boy has once been fucked by their cute friend in a bustling cafe, at least once—right? or something along the lines of that. 8.4k words. (unplanned.)

𖦹. — 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . . . purest of people, male sydney who so stupidly thought this was merely meant to be a study session, dubious consent that slowly morphs into full-on yearning, established friendship, cock sucking, fingering, anal fucking all in the holiest of pretext to teach, manipulative, model student, male reader (amab) that really just means well, yeah. least, sydney thinks so while being bent in half.

𖦹. — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬, doc?: “I think he was cute to begin with, but then he patted at his belly spouting some shit about how ‘warm’ it was after my pc shot his load inside and I’ve never needed anything more than to bend some bitch over in the cathedral they pray to.”

Although it may have been unfortunately irritating to some, actually, more like many, really—he’s always truthfully prided himself for his unwavering professionalism and unmatched dedication when it came to school itself. More notably, his unending studies that seemingly only keep on piling up like an intimidating mountain never meant to be ultimately finished.

Or perhaps, what he’s naturally grown more accustomed to for having blindly pursued it for the entire span of his youthful, blossoming life; the Temple’s dictating principles—the questionable need and obligation to importantly preserve his untainted being, virginity, to be more precise. Dutifully stray himself further from the tempting sin that is, well. . . the numerous activities of life itself, most of which his peers mindlessly participate in themselves. As though they could hope to pitifully understand the church boy’s stifling path towards the underlying answers he continuously seeks, strives forward in an unnerved will to earnestly discover.

See, there’s undeniably no need to try and somehow explain the sheer amount of efforts Sydney irrefutably puts in to eventually achieve his long-term goals, correct?

At least, he’s positively and oh, so naively thought so up till now. Ah, brother Jordan’s perpetually warned him of others that may possibly lead him astray, whether intentionally so or not. Stray, golden, strawberry blonde strand of hair delicately placed behind the curved tip of his heated ear, well-preserved lips discreetly pursued inwards into a thinly veiled frown because honestly—he’s confidently speculated of you as otherwise, hm. And weren’t you supposedly meant to be his sole salvation of sparkling light and reprieve from that terrible and horribly selfish town you both regrettably reside in?

Which, couldn’t be more wrong for that matter—could he? Foolishly and frustratingly so, all too trusting that he can sometimes be. Consistently mindful of the potential threats that lay at bay, promising utter defilement if given the chance to swiftly sink their claws and pearly canines in the tender flesh of the boy’s untouched being.

Particularly, not this time it seems—not with your overly distracting presence perfectly positioned in front of his calmly seated own.

If it were anyone else, certainly they would’ve predictably seen this coming way before he has so, but pristine innocence itself—has always been the initiate’s first and foremost, silly shortcoming, hasn’t it? Oh, pointlessly stupid, Sydney. . . It’s inherently your fault for happily sticking along to the deceptively beautiful place that is, the starving tiger’s drooling maw, yeah?

So, really—it’s merely natural for it to have somehow derailed the way it did. An absently made lie to falsely convince himself of such, that he’s indeed above the rest of this sickeningly pervasive town in return, isn’t he? Right??

Unlikely. For as the all too well-known saying allegedly goes; the excessively ambitious bird unreasonably flew close towards the infinitely scorching sun, right?

Hah—

“. . .What are you doing?” Curiously peering upwards from the neatly laid and spread sheets of papers he’s meticulously sorted atop the creaking, wooden table. Almost faltering in the instinctual, heated sigh that’s bound to solemnly come out of his usually quiet mouth as his shimmering gaze automatically locks with your. . . annoyingly bored one, apparently. Since, what’s the exact point to be pleasantly inquiring him with the delightful idea to silently study together in some bustling cafe stationed nearby if you, yourself—won’t even tentatively participate in your aforementioned suggestion, huh??

“Studying.” Poorly fabricated falsehood at most, he can effortlessly see through that. Straying eyes sluggishly evading his as if to secretly rid yourself from some misplaced guilt incessantly residing within your thudding chest. Though, swiftly recovering with a quipped, cheeky retort of your own soon after—as it is so expectantly common of you to do, yet still. . . can’t truly bring himself to be sincerely annoyed by that endearing antic of yours. “—and modestly admiring the view in front of me. I can’t do that?”

Hmph, that sole and insignificant compliment shouldn’t have suddenly brought forth a crimson flush to his cheeks, beautifully painted his complexion a deeper hue for your. . . ah, so stupidly childish, cherry lips to unabashedly grin back at in muted satisfaction for his lack of response. Ahah, pretty please—do get a grip on yourself, Sydney, before he’s indecently ruined you too!

Seriously. . . For a well renowned model student collectively respected by most at the establishment you two simultaneously attend—you’re ostensibly quite the sneaky trickster on multiple occasions, aren’t you? Especially towards him for some particular reason which, he hasn’t remotely registered as to why yet. Yes, he’s been somehow oblivious to your unmistakably evident flirting during all this incessantly wasted time because well, that’s how he’s been continuously raised to be, despite the strikingly opposite demeanour of his other parent, Sirris.

However, fine. The religious boy might as well reluctantly grant you this momentarily acquired victory for his infuriatingly stunned silence to eventually catch up to, someday. Arrogantly emboldened by that mind muddling smile you oh, so proudly wear amongst your enraptured features—further pushed towards the edge by the reasonable expectation that he’s bound to similarly allow you to selfishly step all over him as so many others do, but no. . . Not today, considering the weighted amount of importance he relentlessly dedicates to maintaining nearly perfect grades amidst his plentiful classes.

Merely an exception made for that one tiring, swimming course however, as athleticism and specifically, raw stamina has unluckily never been his main strong suit. Truly no need to embarrassingly reminisce upon the various moments he’s nearly drowned in the incessant, violent waves of water within the limited pool, helplessly fought for his life in that surely. . . dangerous area. At least, he nearly thinks of it so—unless, some other snickering students were the guilty culprits responsible of disrespectfully splashing loads of liquid in his unfortunate direction? Oh, that too.

Though, that harmless treatment seemingly ceased altogether the second you consequently stepped into his previously mundane life. Huh. An enigma, indeed. Must be what gaining a friend in your reclusive bubble similarly does, probably. Yes, probably. Unbeknownst to the agitated huffs and shrill shrieks delinquents ultimately make at the sheer sight of your figure constantly sticking to his blissfully ignorant side, y’know—like a true, amiable friend does, right?

“You said we’d only be coming here to study, but all you’ve been doing for the past hour is just. . . staring at me! Do I have something on my face? Is that it?? Or is it—really, really that amusing to poke fun at me, huh??” Stubbornly settled upon the illogical fact that this is unquestionably a ploy methodically thought out by yours truly, objectively intended to spur him in a state of constant nervousness and mumbling bashfulness around you. Well, that is to say, he’s not sparingly letting you off the hook this time, no!

Conclusively blind to the sudden thump! he’s sorely responsible for by—of course, hastily slamming the dusty cover of his used, worn book downwards, fiercely landing itself against the furniture’s now disorganized surface. And there he inevitably goes as per expected, apprehensively jumping in fright to his own undoing with a clumsy huff. Immediate jolt coursing throughout the entirety of his curved spine upwards before finally, nearly losing balance of his glassed frames delicately placed atop the curvature of his pointed nose.

Oh. Maybe he’s—uncontrollably lost his cool there, huh. Talk about being humiliatingly disruptive in an otherwise, intimately tranquil space solely reserved for relaxing and such. Fortunately, it seems you’ve mainly reserved a private space firstly for that, having feasibly anticipated that sudden, usually concealed temper of his.

“Ah. . . Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud. I’m just slightly confused and frustrated at the same time because you said you’d—we’d study together for once, and I was looking forward to it, you know?” Ultimately deciding upon awkwardly easing the persistent prickle within the all-too delicate curve of his bobbing throat or, is it his ears, maybe? Forsaken by how sheer embarrassment comes to muddle his aimless apologies, strains his well-placed, intentional words in a desperate attempt at making you understand that first and foremost—he genuinely cherishes the preciously made, quality time you both simultaneously spend together. No matter how futile or short-lived it may be in the face of. . . unavoidable external factors like the distinctly noisy school bell, yet there’s no such rule when it comes to that, especially outside of the school’s limited bounds.

Although, evidently—he only intends for that to be solely interpreted as a friend namely would because certainly. . . the insistent butterflies that wildly flutter within the depths of his tensed tummy, has his thumping heartbeat hurriedly beating against the cage of the flustered boy’s chest is—something most friends frequently experience when the other is decisively near, yes?

. . .Certainly so. There’d be no other explicit reason as to why—the initial shock at his spurred reaction is soon dampened by a slight snicker from your cunning mouth. My, do you actually find the irritated pout presently adorning his puckered lips all that funny, too?

“You have a lot to say on the matter, I see. It’s true, I did make you come here to study with me—but, don’t you think your way of studying is pretty inefficient, Syd?” Purely uninterested in whatever recent remarks he’s made up till and, oh my god—do you ever faithfully listen to him or merely play coy with the poor, naive initiates to your hearts content? Incidentally irked at how a hint of curiosity tentatively peeks forward at your unforeseen commentary, has his nose scrunched upwards in utter bewilderment.

Inefficient? Him?? To say, he’s notoriously prided himself on swiftly achieving far more of the Temple’s various duties and additionally, more than a few unmotivated members that garner no interest towards the establishment’s dedicated ambition. Unsurprisingly so, preferring to sluggishly dust at some messied rooms laid askew, here and there—which, largely ends in one carelessly dozing atop the tousled beds, even going so far as to set the unused broom aside like it’s particularly nothing!

“M-Me?? You think my method of studying is inefficient? How so? What’s unfulfilling about it?” Overwhelmingly astonished, perhaps more taken aback as to why you might necessarily think so considering his sticking-to-the-books methods he habitually executes with thought out grace. Still, can’t stubbornly deflect such a statement if the model student himself is the one lamentably pointing that out. . . .Is he really, though?

“Hm, let’s put it this way—what’s the point of studying if the methods used aren’t efficient and doesn’t aid in easing your brain into learning, huh? Like for example, what’s your second weakest subject in school again?” Thoughtful mind earnestly coming into focus at the subtle nudge of your teasing foot provokingly pressed against his crossed one beneath the low-end table as if to. . . ahah, temporarily catch him off guard, impatiently center the focus of his working brain onto you—as if, he isn’t doing that already. Sometimes, or more like the majority of it all, you truthfully do act like a petulant child eagerly begging for its parents unwavering attention.

And that, he’ll happily give forth to you if such is needed. Solely if you wistfully promise to do the same in return, of course—fair trade and all, regardless of the inborn selflessness he proudly possesses. Properly trimmed fingertips timidly curling inwards in mild embarrassment at having to carefully admit this aloud to you, of all people, despite already consciously knowing it yourself, too.

“Well, I mean—you know what it is, it’s. . . science, I suck at science. Despite my mom’s teachings, I just can’t seem to grasp the material properly no matter how hard I study. Maybe, I’m just really bad at it.” Alright, honestly. . . that little sore admission of his, did somewhat drain whatever lingering aspirations he potentially withheld earlier in hopes of truly understanding the inexplicably difficult basis of that confusing subject. Shoulders sorrowfully slumping downwards, resembling that of a—funnily enough, dejected little puppy that’s been meanly kicked by its owner or better put, crudely denied a sweetened treat for its lacking efforts.

“But, ah—you’re pretty good at science, aren’t you? In fact, you’re my mom’s favourite! She talks about you nonstop, all the time. To the point that it gets a lil’ bit annoying, though I can’t really complain, can I? That’s just how good of a student you are, after all!” And there it comes, as endlessly expected. . . an unspoken plea for your eventual needed aid that’ll be so nicely granted in due time, since—well, that’s exactly why you’ve generously brought him here, correct?

“. . .So, is it fine if you taught me instead? I feel like I’d understand it better if it came from your mouth. Your way of explaining is more comprehensible than my mom’s weird—you know, comparisons to. . . uhm, uh. . . sex, every time.” Merely articulating that singular, oh so dreadful word causes a pronounced shiver to noticeably make its way throughout the passage of his tensed spine. Yes, yes, it’s expectantly natural to participate in these sort of activities—that he’s exceptionally informed of. Even if briefly envisioning your normally unperturbed self in those indecent situations further stokes the burning ache in his groin like no tomorrow.

God, coming forth to visit the confession booth would serve him some good right now, wouldn’t it? Enough of that, however—alternatively wishing to concentrate upon the more pressing matter at hand as he meekly regards you with irresistible, puppy doe eyes from underneath the reflective rims of his glasses. Oh, oh. Surely, you wouldn’t have the stone cold heart to selfishly refuse him of such?

“Pretty please? I’ll think of a way to repay you, I promise! Swear! We could. . . ah, even do a pinky promise if you wanna, too?” Candidly clasping his palms together with a resounding slap!—an ushered and frantic request for you to explicitly accept as though, you’re his sole remaining hope. Which sort of is the case considering his lacking amount of friends, unfortunately so.

Idiot. Haven’t your parents ultimately taught you better than to credulously place your barren trust in a deceptively attractive boy? One whose glimmering eyes shamelessly ogles at his silken skin like he were a freshly ripe, juicy peach shortly prepared—prettily available for the taking? Yours, especially.

Don’t think so.

“Sure thing, I could do that for you. What kind of friend would I be if I couldn’t, anyway?” Nodding pleasantly in return to the uttered query and to say, he admittedly didn’t expect to necessarily get this far with you when taking into account your supposed habit of—however irritating it may be, to gleefully demand some sort of payment in exchange. As to what that may conceivably entail? That, he’s thoroughly uncertain of in the worst way possible, to be fully left in the shadowed, lurking dark like this. . . But, no way you’ll likely insist upon a suggested favour for something this straightforward, huh??

“Though, you know—“ Oh, never mind! Legitimately, what did he wholeheartedly assume to himself to begin with?? “My way of studying when it comes to particular subjects like science is. . . pretty specific. I’m just letting you know in case, cuz’ knowing you—you’d start squirming at the mere idea of it, alright?” Slight prickle of hesitation finding itself within the swelling of his held breath, wondering as to precisely what you may perhaps, be indirectly referring to for an added precaution to be meticulously placed beforehand. “—And just an important reminder that you specifically asked for this first. . .”

“So, don’t back out on me now, Sydney.”

“Huh? What do you mean by tha—“ Hitched breath immediately faltering in its wake, momentarily tipping backwards to then, clumsily land atop the cushioned beanbags squishy exterior with a sudden, delicate oomph! Fluttering lashes and eyes instinctively squeezing shut out of pure, utter reflex on his end from mostly, having wrongly anticipated something else altogether. No, no—it wasn’t a melting kiss, at all!—what’re you talking about? Nevertheless, please wilfully ignore the modest pucker of his peachy, expectant lips.

And for a supposedly fast-working brain, it fails to rightfully catch up to the salacious absurdity of your inexplicable gestures in time—accordingly process the unforeseen, present warmth of your lingering palm neatly settled along the creeping edge of his inner thigh. Affectionately smoothing over the ruffled material of his perfectly fitted trousers poorly concealing the natural curve of the flustered initiate’s slimmer legs.

“W-Wha. . . ? What’re you doing??” Like that’ll presently answer the mind boggling questions hastily swirling throughout the crowded turbulence of his psyche, somehow appease the searing, unbearable heat intimately dusting his blooming face so—ah, damn it. You’re unreasonably too close to his dearly cherished proximity, you know that? But, of course you would, as you’ve always been pleasantly considerate of his preferred need to retract away from other’s unwelcoming touches—grazing nearly too close for his supposed liking before he’s mentally keeling over like a screeching, hot boiling kettle. And here he is, similarly blazing in that same hysterical manner from the mere dizzying proximity you’re now both sharing amongst two boys, which. . . really shouldn’t be remotely happening, at the moment.

Yes, honestly speaking—even if he doesn’t like to presently face the evident cues on their own, he’s got a semblance of a rather. . . lewd vision curiously peeking through the tendrils of the blonde’s usually enclosed mind. Sorrowfully rearing its ugly head towards a blissfully ignorant alternative as if to mock the very delicate fabric your esteemed friendship is crucially built upon.

Ah, really!—now isn’t the appropriate time to be embarrassingly sporting a straining hard-on crudely presenting itself before your very eyes. Incessantly throbbing like an insistent reminder as to why you two cannot ever supposedly call one another, simply ‘friend’, either. Nor should the even more humiliating way your expanding pupils are coolly drawn towards its shape that’s poorly hidden underneath the slim material, be his ultimate undoing. Akin to how a drooling predator has seized its prey right beneath the inescapable grasp of its unrelenting claws.

Speaking of such, he does somewhat feel that way right now, timidly shrinking in face of your sheer silence or perhaps, it’s another one of those meddlesome ploys of yours he’s grown familiar with—to further mess with him till he’s inevitably become beet in the fullness of his cheeks. Mhm, surely. . . That’s all there is to it and nothing more.

Although, he’d be more surprised at the clinically made statement that spills forth from your lips soon after, however.

“What does it look like? I’m tutoring you, obviously.” Peering your head slightly to the side as if it weren’t blatantly obvious that you were indeed, purely teaching him how to do whatever this is—and not well. . . however else you can call the current position you forcibly have him in. Noticeably firm grasp atop the pervasive spreading of his open thighs resembling one of those—ah, uh—various videotapes his parent, Sirris, withholds in the back of their popular shop which shall not be named. No, he’d prefer not to reminisce upon its increasingly erotic nature at a consequent time like this one. So irritatingly indecent that he cannot hope to regard you wholly in your eyes, too. Y’know, how is he allegedly meant to do so, anyway??

“A-Are you??” As though, further questioning you twice might potentially snap him from this daze spreading itself amongst his brain tirelessly working overtime—solely intended to make sense of this, even if he’s struggling to keep up with it, himself. “Because I don’t think. . . ah, I really don’t think this is how you usually tutor people.”

“That’s because this isn’t conventional tutoring, Syd. I guess you’ve never done it before, then—since you look. . . . ahah, got that look on your face, again.” Almost tempted to meanly huff back in return for your sheer audacity to snicker in a situation such a this one, yet he stops himself in time. Merely due to the relaxing sound of your laughter discreetly echoing throughout the confidential cubicle you’ve solely reserved for the two of you. Which, ah. . . was it intended to be scandalously used like this from the initial start? Between two promising students supposedly meant to be quietly studying amidst the bustling cafe’s welcoming environment—instead, settled atop each other like the obscure, romance films the initiate secretly views in tranquil privacy?

Oh, gosh—seriously, he cannot take any more of this. And neither can the thumping, warming blood making its way downwards to the swollen tip of his cock, apparently.

“How is this remotely meant to help me understand the teachings of my mother again??” Helplessly craning his neck sideways in a futile attempt to maintain eye contact with yours truly, that is—if you’d oh, so generously give him the time of day to do so. Though, something else subtly inches at him that you’re probably far more interested in reenacting the next unclear footage that’ll present itself in his mom’s class or something along the lines of that.

“Didn’t you know? The body tends to remember better than the mind and you know, you’re pretty forgetful, yourself, at times. I’m just helping you, that’s all. So, be more grateful, will you?” Obviously, no one save for yourself would have a cheekily made up response ready for his reasonable inquiry. Nonetheless, the indistinguishable puff of an unfinished giggle that spilled out of his poorly sealed mouth, wasn’t necessarily done on purpose, either.

Such a shame, yes, that one cannot help but to be intimately pliable under the methodical ministrations of your. . . almost reverent fingertips—not the least bit hasty in your movements and instead, mindful in how your softened palms perfectly cup the surface of the initiate’s quivering thighs. Nor should it further fluster him due to the seamless nature, in which his perched legs presently find themselves hooked along the curvature of your reliable shoulders. Always secretly liked the feel of them, didn’t he? Though, not like he’ll ever outwardly admit it for the life of him—regardless of whichever gruelling trial the Temple dutifully presents before him.

Truly, he should’ve initially seen through your deceptive methods from the mere start, shouldn’t he? But, what is there to do when he’s received such a sheltered upbringing from the slightest second he’s been brought into this tainted world, to begin with? Foolishly taught with repeated chants that certainly many shall eventually come for his pleasurable innocence—beautifully witness it fester underneath caring hands. For the addictive way it prettily spills itself from between bitten lips, nudging teeth poorly serving its purpose by failing to stifle disastrously wanton moans is too nice of a sight, isn’t it?

Yet, by god—could he not have fully anticipated how right it sinfully feels to experience the slippery tip of your tongue tracing across previously untouched skin. Unsure whether to direct his busying hands upon the parting of his open lips in hopes of partially concealing the needy whines your surroundings shouldn’t be privy to pervertedly hearing, by chance. Or, to where your head currently resides and that is, comfortably nestled between quivering legs bound to buckle beneath the sheer weight of your dizzying actions. One precarious moment you’re swiftly chucking the hem of his pants down—and the next, you’re boldly laving the flattening surface of your. . . ah, ah—oh gosh, warm tongue amongst the tensed muscles of his fluttering tummy.

Although, not quite for long as it seems your prime focus descends below to where a pretty, weeping cock embarrassingly greets your line of sight in turn. Inwardly irritated at this stuttering heart of his, beating within the confines of his ribbed cage as your attentive gazes—his, being far more blurry, at this point. Especially, with his unfound glasses laid askew somewhere around here, after being carelessly knocked forth thanks to your tactic pouncing. Quite the gentleman that you can be, at certain times. If not purely acting like an unabashed horndog, which he’ll never verbally say so, but doesn’t mind it in the slightest. Not that it withholds much importance for the time being, not when you’re simply a feathered breath away from making actual contact with his inexperienced cock , and—. . .

Ah, wait! You’re going to make genuine contact with his. . . hah—riddled with sheer and absolute embarrassment to even be uttering that one out in the plains of his clouded mind.

“Y-You’re going to touch there?? You know that’s a dirty place, though—!” Maybe it was an incidental mistake on his part, for requesting that he have his protective and reassuring chastity belt removed, after all. Solely for all intended purposes, of course; that occasionally didn’t have to do with any sinning, no—not due to the crude heat pooling at the bottom of his tummy whenever glimpses of you, by chance—filtered through his distracting brain during solemn prayers. Definitely not.

And yet, still—he makes no sudden movement to personally stop you from doing so, despite the jolting whine that ceremoniously slips past from between bitten lips. Head lolling backwards with a heaved sigh at your experimental lapping of his dribbling tip as though to test the waters, somewhat. . . ? That, or more along the insistent fact that a flicker of relief briefly flashes throughout the frantic beating of his thudding chest, only to immediately still upon your pretty mouth perfectly suited to envelop his length whole. Unashamed in the way you’re practically shoving the, well. . . nicely slim girth of his virgin cock past uncharted lips which, he may or may not have sometimes, fantasized about in the private remnants of his mind. Albeit, at ill suited times whenever you’d linger in the welcoming nature of his timid presence. But, certainly not like this! Truthfully speaking, he had envisioned it to be far more romantic than—ah, your unending exploration of his now vulnerable body bared for your grateful eyes solely.

Yes, not with your admittedly. . . soft lips thoroughly swallowing him down to the hilt that the initiate’s instinctually registered the surface of your throat merely bumping against the leaking head of his cock. Unable to cease the magnetic pull of his expanding pupils drawn to where you’re presently settled—that is, pervasively sucking on his cock and perhaps, either unbothered by the copious smearing of his translucent pre-cum glistening along the puffiness of your lips or, blissfully ignorant of its sticky texture adorning the bottom half of your pleasing face. Unconsciously admire the slight flutter of your twitching eyelashes temporarily caressing along your heated cheeks in sheer, utter concentration dedicated to pleasuring him so. Plus you’re evidently taking delight in the accidental squeeze of his soft thighs pressed against your head—like a pair of warming earmuffs meant for yours to wear, even though it’s the comforting heat of his naked skin instead.

Ah, remarkably so, he must be progressively turning into a pervert himself from the abundant amount of time he’s spent his free days with you. To genuinely revere your debauched state as such, wishfully yearn to bear witness to more of you like this. Considering how he’s grown accustomed to an unperturbed version of yourself delicately fabricated in his pictured mind, untouched by the degeneracy that others around him similarly indulge in. In spite of that, however—there’s an almost gleeful joy to know you’re no exception, divine being that’s shockingly immune to temptation laid at your reaching fingertips.

And you do so boldly reach—in your confident manner that he’s now used to. Stubbornly refusing to relent with the noisy suckling of your slippery mouth enclosed around his inexperienced cock, more like you’re openly relishing in each and every whine that threatens to alert unsuspecting and ignorant customers nearby. Repeatedly tugging on each and every individual strand of your now thoroughly messied hair in a vain plea to at the very least, ease up on that. . . ah, warmth surrounding his sensitive tip, further guided towards the edge from those drawn out slurps!

Oh, that’d be a shame, yes. To be precariously caught in a lewd position like this, for all to see—innocent, ol’ church boy receiving such treatment from the adored model student known by all. Gosh, the inexplicably absurd thought has him pathetically quivering underneath your lips, importantly dedicated to have him shyly swipe a taste of the addictive nature that is, none other than melding sin itself. Because if that is so, the cradling heat of your head preciously nestled between the comfy embrace of his spread thighs. Intimate hold of your fist deliberately stroking along the veiny base of his pulsing length to make up for what your undeniably tight throat unfortunately cannot reach, all the while paying devoted attention to his puffs or rolling breath. Quiver of his puffy bottom lip accompanied by the slight shudder in furrowed, thin eyebrows and noticeably tightening of his neglected balls. Then, he’d graciously welcome it so, with open arms, again and again.

Oh, God and heavenly deities watching from above; please do forgive him so, for the disgraceful noises that are rolling off his stuck-out tongue, too.

Restlessly echoing the methodical scripture of the Bible’s commandments won’t conceivably make up for the erotic act he’s indulging in—and neither for the incoming approach of his release, teetering over the steep edge.

“W-Wait, please—I think, ah. . . My tummy feels all weird and hot inside, a-and I think I’m gon’ cum—I’m cumming—“ Breathlessly announcing beforehand, lest he rudely spilled the sticky mixture of your slippery saliva along with a heavy load of his seed upon your pristine face. Surely, that isn’t his proper intentions whatsoever nor an actual way of repaying you back for coating the entirety of his weeping cock in your wet spit.

But, like the sneaky prankster that you are, that he’s so often reprimanded in the desolate area of the library; you disappointingly retract yourself away from his abused cock in turn, letting it slip free with an audible squelch! and an even lewder pop! to noisily ring throughout the confines of your shared cubicle. Cruelly deprive him of such a well-deserved orgasm that was soon enough, at stake, within reach for his shivering frame to melt into—whine at in sheer protest from the distracting press of your thumb atop his swollen cock head oozing creamy pre for you to appreciatively tut down at.

“Sorry, wifey. You don’t get to cum yet, not till I’m finished prepping you up for the most important part of the lesson. Just a little more. . . —and I promise it’ll feel even better than before, alright?” Behold what you seamlessly do—softly caressing away at the almost spoiled, hidden part of him that was bound to irritatingly swipe at your dizzying hold along his weeping length, though you somehow shush him first for such—as if happily conscious of that predictable response. And he, in turn, cannot hope to go against you for it, either.

Also, wait a second there—did you just casually refer to him as ‘wifey’? Akin to how a husband would’ve ceremoniously called along after his beloved and cherished wife on a sunny afternoon so that she may fetch him a cup of brewed coffee. A seemingly trivial nickname withholding all the spilling adoration one might possess by chance.

However, before he can remotely register that salacious statement and let the lavish heat of his churning bloodstream traverse towards the tip of his ears, you do the honours of redirecting the devious and moist surface of your tongue downwards—below; a forbidden place that he hasn’t necessarily explored due to the overwhelming guilt that’d perturb him in his nonsensical dreams. Resounding squeak at the foreign sensation of something else, something besides the overly nervous pads of his fingertips circling around that flushed rim—worming its way through his previously sealed, puckered hole. Smoothly breaching past what shouldn’t have been disturbed to begin with and, ah—ohhh, that certainly feels. . . weird. Shamefully pleasurable, type of weird, he mentally admits.

“Y-You’re really, hah, pushing it—. . .” If that was supposedly intended to be read as some dignified scolding then, it certainly falls short when wracked between muted babbles. So like you, to reduce him to a pile of mush, that is. Experienced thumbs inching forward, nudging upon the squishy flesh—spreading his asscheeks apart much to his humiliated bearings, in further pursuit of burying yourself in its velvety warm insides. Hot, slippery tongue laving across clenching walls that immediately twitch at your intrusion of the sensitive bundle of nerves, leaving behind crescent marks etched in the softening skin that’s unused to such treatment.

Oh, holy, holy Father—is this what Heaven feels like when you’re warmly enveloped in its comfortable embrace? Because if so, please do not stop until I’ve succumbed to this sinful pleasure.

And Gods from above, forbid that you stretch this on any further then it needs to, maybe due to a cautious need that he fully enjoys himself—however, what he salaciously desires at the moment is for you to remove those fingers that reach further than his does—sinking in the warmth of his greedy hole hungrily sucking at the feel of your two digits. Oh, perish that meaningless thought, now you’ve seemingly allowed another to join in, scissoring at the exceptionally tight ring struggling to adjust to its sudden intrusion. Seamlessly allowing you to be granted a full view of slicked and wet insides, sticky strings of fluids predictably snapping away once you’ve deemed his untainted hole to be sufficiently loosened.

Loosened? That’s—. . . Speaking of the devil, of what will be the one to ‘loosen’ him or perhaps, better put; ‘stretch’ his quivering entrance dumbly clenching around absolutely nothing whatsoever—‘course unless you grant him the selfless permission to be the one to adorably choke around your pretty cock. Dizzyingly bear witness to its pulsating girth imprint itself within the smooth surface of his tummy, bulge at the repeated snap of your hips, hah—that wouldn’t be so bad.

So, you do so—wordlessly gazing in absent thought at the debauched sight you’ve aided in creating. Stray strands of strawberry blonde hair splayed across the softened surface. For the delicate elastic that once held those docile locks have now unraveled anew; such as is the same with those glimmering eyes that would similarly stare back in an absent flush, reduced to a melding pool that wants to swallow all that you allow it to.

Truly, resembling that of a meticulously drawn out masterpiece meant for its sole purpose to be hung in a sophisticatedly built museum, thoroughly admired for all to potentially see. But, no. . . However else, it seems you’ll be the one to intimately keep this ruined appearance of his, to your egoistic self. And for that, he doesn’t withhold any sort of complaints, no—none at all, really.

“You look nice like this. With your loose hair down like this, I mean.” Puffing out almost. . . shyly from between parted lips, straying eyes traversing downwards to where his are, too—that is, your tented bulge showcasing itself through rustling trousers. Silently cursing him for being the sole one to blame for your unusually heated state. Although, there’s a twinge of smugness that secretly peeks through concealed uncertainty for knowing that he’s irrefutably responsible for this. For the fact that your length is dribbling out copious amounts of sticky pre to stain your underwear sheer in a similar debauched manner, restlessly throbbing underneath the weight of his tentative palm placed atop it. So, apparently; even you do get shy, too. Under the necessary circumstances like this one.

“. . . It’s so warm.” Outwardly shuddering at your poorly stifled hiss that drawls past bitten lips meant to fuck, furrowed deepening in dwindling concentration from those explorative rubs of his. Unable to help himself, that is—since it’s far too addictive to feel its hot outline twitching along careful stroking, circling around your leaking tip like a soothing balm dedicated to temporarily satisfy your aching cock. Not for all that long, it supposedly seems and he’s not vocally protesting either.

“Fuck, why do you think that is exactly?” Hitched breath barely slipping from an open mouthed ‘o’ at your snuffed annoyance, for it is so unlike you to be using such crass language to begin with. Albeit, it seems he’s come to unfurl at the methodically placed platitudes you roll yourself in—like a lovingly formed gift adorning a pretty bow atop it all. Maybe greedy of him, to eagerly scratch away at the useless plastic paper he bears no interest in and instead, peer in awe at the tainted sin that greets the church boy in turn.

And for that—he holds no particular answer because he does indeed know as to why you’re churning a heated mess in the depths of your tummy, precariously straining against swiping fingertips that experimentally paw at your now loosened belt. Absently leave it to jingle and sprawl along the carpeted floor to then, let your impatient cock finally spring free from beneath its restricting confines. Ungraciously land atop the flat of his tensed stomach with an even lewder slap! to stain its softness with a milky trail of sticky pre-cum. Oh, wow. Certainly didn’t expect for it to be. . . so pleasurably appealing to gaze upon as though it’d just about taunt him to dip it inside his needy, begging hole.

“I won’t lie. . . You’re really asking for it, Syd. Either that, or you’re just dumb. Well, you sort of are—who’s the one that had to pick up after your spilled pieces again? Me, of course. But, you’ve gotta know by now it wasn’t out of mere kindness, right?” Spilling forth from between open maw before he’s gotten the allotted time to potentially gasp at in fraught surprise—immediately process the salacious announcement which he’s been inwardly craving for. Ah, will you do so? Be so generous to grant him the rare opportunity within cupped palms or perhaps, obsessive hands that pinch and prod at unmarked skin? “So, I ask you this; and I’ll only ask you this once.“

“Pretty please, dearest Sydney—will you allow me to fuck your pretty pink, dripping hole? Because either way, I really can’t fucking wait, right now.”

Hah, it shouldn’t be so indecently effective to the warmth pooling below—for your vocal request of his uttered consent. Truthfully, is there any genuine need to secretly inquire what’s so painfully evident?? Teeth nudging atop his puffy, bottom lip that hopelessly quivers in face of your seriousness regarding the rather. . . embarrassing prospect at hand, here.

“Please—. . .” Eventually drawls out from parted lips, trembling arms hastily hung over fluttering lashes that don’t dare to steal a glimpse from angled gaps. No, for he wordlessly fears that if he were to catch a supposing glance of your strained expression within this very instant—the initiate wouldn’t be able to mutter another solemn prayer devoid of wanton desire, to be railed into the nearest surface below. Still, hung along a teetering thread that’s bound to disastrously snap under the guise of your undeterred focus. Urging him to mirror those spoken words in the filthiest manner possible considering his rare share of utilizing such disdainful vocabulary. But yet, nonetheless, he does between stuttering gasps. “—F. . . Fuck me.”

“That’s my good boy. I knew you had it in you after all, hm?” Unspoken sighs silently tumble forth from what supposedly must be your shared cubicle, but he cares no further at the mere idea of getting possibly caught in this form. Not with the dribbling tip of your eager cock lamentably dragging along the surface of his spread asscheeks solely presented for your intended amusement. Half lidded gaze inwardly pleading from under, at how each tentative nudge of your hot, red cock head momentarily knocks out each quivering breath out of him—deepens this burning urge to guide you in the intimate walls of his puckered hole.

Which, he so graciously does the honour of doing so by a shaky grasp held upon its throbbing girth. Tightening palm clumsily placed atop your hipbone for wordless support as you finally. . . finally—do continuously ease yourself in all at once, stretch the aching emptiness deep within his stirring guts that longed to be deliciously filled to the utter brim.

“H-Hah—you’re tighter than I expected, but that’s okay.” Muttering from between ushered curses, wistfully cooing down at the glistening droplets of shiny tears that threatened to spill past the entire length of his crimson cheeks. Of course, not due to some unsuspecting pain supposedly coursing throughout the hefty and sudden stretch of his now thoroughly defiled hole—no, because that’s where you surely belong. Or so, he’s subconsciously deluded himself of such. Nestled deep in the warm softness of his drooling insides that so gleefully welcome your veiny girth, like a comforting flesh light preciously suited to be molded to yours truly. He’d ask for nothing else, truly.

Instinctually, his sweating hands delicately place themselves along the reassuring curvature of your shoulders which he oh, so does adore to often rely on in times like these. Yes, supposed encounter where you’re dizzyingly getting fucked full within an inch of your life, now that your drooling tip has nicely settled deep in the melding suckling of his clenching walls. And he possibly can’t help the mutual huffs of shuddering breaths that collectively fall forth from both of you—resembling that of those foolish students that like to sneak around the peaceful library he dutifully manages; one telltale hand down each other’s pants. Gosh, even thinking back on it now—embarrassingly knowing he’s no better than those pervasive harlots that noisily fuck in semi public places, if not; then unabashedly out in the grand open. Unable to hopelessly lay off one another’s greedy touches in the same manner that he presently is doing so, but. . . please, don’t take pitiful notice of that minor aspect.

This is what it’s like, is it not? Straining features furrowing deeper in a scrunched expression of unadulterated bliss—useless, little finger that he has at his disposal, to barely stifle the pleasured moans that’s bound to roll past firmly pursued lips. Something about the affectionate way you shush that teensy, disruptive method away with a mouthful of your cherry-perfect lips enclosing themselves around his digit. Because even if he secretly wishes it so, those trained eyes of yours won’t dare to momentarily stray away from that scarcely concealed note of wracked gratification painted along the heat of his face.

“Don’t run away from me, Syd. Tell me—I wanna see it, I wanna see your face when I’m properly inside you like this.” Considerably gentle despite the undeniable amount of control which you possess in this unbecoming position, practically folded in half by the slight hunch of your heaving back looming over his ragged figure. That is, ignoring the miniature distance that only noticeably shrinks with each of your practiced thrusts inside his greedy hole—not to mention, sloppy squelches! loudly ringing throughout the limited confines of the cafe’s walls—that he blearily hopes no passerby catches note of. Merely millimetres away from ineffectively bumping your foreheads together in a connected touch. “The way your eyelids flutter, shit. . . hah, your hole is clenching in on my dick like the perfect cock sleeve. Does it feel that nice to have someone’s cock inside you like this—with your best friend being balls deep inside your hole??”

“U-Uh huh—“ Obviously can’t hear you when he’s helplessly babbling revised prayers, as though that might erase the sheer depravity of this situation—excuse him of the unbridled enjoyment he’s partaking in. Ironic in its nature, considering the holy pendant formed into a pictured cross, loosely hooped around his neck and continuously bouncing due to the precise humps your fat cock has to so kindly offer him in return. One hand splayed atop his marked waist as if in an afterthought, something to hold onto lest he ceremoniously was guided to the nearest wall—thanks to your eager fucks, too. Bump his precious head against, which you’re softly cradling in additional carefulness.

Judging by the whiny begging uncontrollably escaping in response, something along the lines of ‘please, don’t stop’ and ‘feels so good’—ah, he cannot distinguish much when reduced to he’s a cock-drooling mess, tattered shell of his usually composed self.

Ah, talk about sickeningly intimate it is to be unbearably connected to one another like this. Irrefutably against the sheer prospect of cruelly pulling out and Gods, he honestly doesn’t want you to, either. Please, please. . . heavens from above, don’t dare to cease in the repeated slaps! of your balls taut with sticky seed—against the receptive spreading of his open thighs. Nor mind the bold movement seamlessly acted out on automatic, to desperately hook the length of his legs—definitely unused to this much, of course—along your waist in a silent plea or rather, ploy to messily keep up with the slight roll of your untiring hips. Forbidding you from so much as popping your oozing tip out before then, soon enough; you’re savagely ramming it deep inside once more, hissing at the cushioned nerves that greet your tingling head and so forth.

Utterly smitten is what he is, so much so that he doesn’t remotely take notice of your fist now loosely pumping at the neglected length of his quivering dick between slippery skin. Oh, oh—y’know, that’s far too cruel to be simultaneously stimulating both ends of his overly sensitive, tingling body! “Hah, you can’t—ah, suddenly do that!” Open mouth unconsciously falling forth at the constant press of your flattening palm along his glistening tip. Head falling backwards in which his entire curved spine follows along to, arching in a way he’d never have thought possible if it weren’t for your cock driving itself deep inside his squishy, warm walls.

Still, in a vain and pitiful effort to alert you of such—fingertips digging deeper in the delicate texture of your flesh, almost deep enough to draw spilling blood. Though, not his intention at all to instil searing pain in you whatsoever. Not at all, truthfully! It’s just. . . ah, it’s becoming increasingly clear that he’s nearing inevitable release due to your added pleasure inducing actions from both sides. Inefficiently peering up from below lidded lashes and stray pinches of your now thoroughly marked back to signal his eventual descent into adoring defilement.

“S-Slow. . . down—“ He hadn’t meant to meaninglessly scorn you like you had any shred of chance of doing so—but, it’s ultimately humiliating to feel the teetering edge of himself reaching his dreaded limit. Glassy eyes stupidly rolling back to meet pitched darkness once that sickeningly long coil in his stuffed tummy finally snaps. Pink tongue prettily sticking out for your cherished gaze to etch into focus all while slobbering over the added thumb you’ve generously lent to suckle upon—drool over and coat it in transparent spit as the first load of milky cum uncontrollably squirts out of his swollen slit. Crudely stains the momentarily pristine surface of his clenching tummy and even going forward, to drip amongst his slackened jaw.

Ultimately, he must certainly appear as a wracked mess before you with dripping globs of his dirty release adorning the entirety of his upper body. Heaving chest puffing at each ragged gasp that crawls out of his sore throat from the sheer muddled consciousness he’s presently bearing, at the moment. Clutching onto the remaining familiarity there is and that merely happens, to be your observant self perched atop his bent figure.

But, that’s of no importance to you, is it now? For the entangled limbs you’ve now collectively fallen into—a heaping thread preciously formed from him to you, there’s no other way you would’ve gone about it, after all.

Here and now, he’s acknowledged it, too, himself—whether the Temple allows it or not, the distinct reverence in your eyes and the unspoken bond shared amongst you two. Uncaring for how twisted it may be in the critical eyes of his worshipped religion, the shocked gasps that will surely follow at the discovered ignorance of the strict restraints placed upon oneself.

Even if you haven’t properly spilled your seed in him yet, the mark has been done—effect irreversibly washing on his cracked perception. Since you’ve laid your claim, staked the original urge you’ve been meaning to this whole, extended time. Beared witness to the melded fluids you’re now licking along in renewed affection, brought upwards at his petulant tugs for your returned proximity near his own. Yes, he does indeed know it so and evidently, so do you.

And honestly, he doesn’t wish to let go of your warming skin closely held against his own anytime soon, either.

#. . . shit #I did not expect it to be this long nor was it planned to but here we are #I seriously need to learn how to shut up because this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written #or I guess number of words written for pleasure in general hm #I’m inexperienced in all of this so I don’t know what’s the average for a professional writer #I’ve just got my fingers and a phone—there’s not much else to say about it #but regardless since this is my first time ever writing for sydney unlike the others I hope I’ve done well #princess please tell me I’ve done well agh #dol #degrees of lewdity #sydney the faithful #dol sydney #sydney dol #degrees of lewdity sydney #sydney degrees of lewdity #top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #x male reader #character x male reader #— R-RATED DISK TAPE FOUND.#SHIT I FORGOT WHAT IT IS

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daphwritesworld · 3 months ago

Text

#21 K. Walsh— BeFoUr. [part one]

(ft: #6 L. Williamson)

content: Top!Keira, Bottom!Reader, Top!Leah, impact play (R receiving), Brat Tamer!Keira, fingering (R receiving), orgasm denial, breath play, Keira bending reader like a pretzel with manhandling, oral (r receiving)

warnings: dom/sub relationship, choking, a few clit and ass spanks, not even semi-public sex they straight up some nasty horn dogs in this club, being heard going to pound town, 3sum, mentions of strap-ons but no penetration (YET AYYYE)

synopsis: You've always been a perfect submissive for your girlfriend…but what happens when you decide to break that good girl persona she's grown so accustomed to? And what happens when you enroll her best friend to help you? Lord help you, girl.

word count: 4.5k

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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“You better get your girl, Kei!” A very drunk Alexia laughs out, “Before your best friend does.”

Keira’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, her eyes searching out to where her captain’s sights are set. And oh what a sight she is met with— you, her sweet angel, pressed up against Leah on the dance floor. You’re still high off the win, and even more elated from seeing your old English teammates celebrating with you. It’d been quite a day at the UEFA, both of your groups collecting a victory in your matches.

Now here you are, three shots deep and your adrenaline making you act out a lot more than you normally would. You’re usually such a good girl for Keira. An absolute picture perfect sub— admired by all who saw the two of you interact. She loves the way you heed her every word, never arguing or disagreeing when she tells you to do something. So it’s a surprise to her when you just smile at her, and grind your ass back against Leah when she motions for you to come towards her.

Keira feels her jaw clench as her fingers tighten around the glass in her hand, and she makes the continuous decision to set it down before she ends the night early getting stitches. She starts making her way through the crowd, her eyes never leaving yours as she does. Leah’s whispering something in your ear, and you bite your lips at whatever it is. A blush crossing your cheeks as you finally break the intense gaze of your girlfriend. Leah’s hands are circling around your middle now, her palms resting low on your abdomen as she presses you against her front even tighter.

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears now. A pit deepens in your stomach as Keira rapidly approaches you, her hand instantly wrapping around your wrist as she yanks you into her body. You stumble at first, your free hand coming up to balance yourself against her chest. You feel like your blood is molten lava under your skin, and you aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or your actions that’s causing the burning sensation to pump through your veins.

Maybe it’s the good girl deep inside of you burning alive from the guilt of acting out…but the sexy look on your girlfriend’s face quickly sweeps that notion from your mind. I mean how could you feel guilty when your pussy is throbbing from the way her nails angrily dig into your skin…you should right? You should feel guilty about how much it turns you on to see her jealous and hot headed with anger, but it doesn’t. It only makes you smile up at her as your hands go behind you to find her best mate, and pull her back against your body.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her hands move down to your waist as she tightens her grip there, knocking Leah’s away in the process.

“Well, I wasn't just gonna sit on your lap all night because you didn’t wanna dance with me,” you make sure to roll your eyes as you say it— playing up on the brattiness to test her boundaries in front of company. It feels so much safer to do it with so many eyes on you. Because in your mind, what can she really do to you in a room full of hundreds of people?

So it inflates your confidence, your ego, and your desire for her to break you back down into a pliable little sub. It’s like you have a sugar rush from all the praise and sweetness she’s always shown you, but you’re finally coming down from the high…and boy are you crashing HARD. You’re craving to see the rougher side of your sickly sweet girlfriend has been growing steadily for weeks now. At least, ever since she let it slip that she’s a brat tamer during a drunk truth or dare last month.

You had called her out with a big hearty laugh, “Oh Kei, come on! You’re like the total opposite of that. You’ve never even raised your voice at me, let alone spank me back into my place!”

“Yeah, because you already know that it’s underneath me. Brats are like wild animals, and you’re more like a house cat, babe. No need to tame a kitten when you’re used to dealing with lions.”

It was like a light went off in your head after that— a deep seated need to be broken then put back together by her. A kitten? Oh, you’ll show her a god damn kitten.

Your feet must’ve gone into auto pilot, because your brain is just now playing catch up. You hadn’t even realized you’re being dragged through the crowd. At least, not until you hear a chorus of teasing shouts from the mix of your former and current teammates behind you. The door to the bathroom flies open just as Mariona makes sure to yell out for you both to “Usa protección, chicas!”

Keira doesn’t even check to see if all the stalls are empty. She just pushes you into the first one she sees. You go to speak, but you’re cut off by her hand coming up and locking around your throat. “Spread your fucking legs.”

Your eyes widen at her statement, hesitation clear as you make no move to follow her demands. “B-but we’re in pub—“ you’re cut off by a growl coming out of the older girl in front of you, “And I don’t give a damn, y/n. If you wanna act like a slut, then i’ll treat you like one…” She pushes you up against the stall door, her chest vibrating against yours as she lightly laughs.

“And sluts don’t get fucked on nice comfy beds, do they?” Her eyes flicker up to yours before she leans down to press a couple kisses up your neck. A few more condescending giggles come out of her too, slightly tickling your skin in her wake. When she pulls away it’s like you can see the switch flip behind her eyes, because suddenly her voice is back to being as stern as the look on her face. “They get finger fucked in dirty bathroom stalls with their panties hanging around their ankles.”

You can’t help the moan that slips out from your lips at her words. You’ve never seen or heard this side of her before. It's exhilarating and makes your head spin with every second that passes. So you finally start listening and slowly begin to pry your legs apart. It must be too slow though, because next thing you know Keira is spreading them for you. As she pushes your short little dress up to bunch up around your waist, it’s her turn to let a moan slip from her mouth. You went out in an dress this short without panties on, and let someone else touch you? Oh dear lord in heaven— Keira is battling demons. She lets her hand around your throat come down and pull one of your legs up onto her shoulder. It burns a little from the stretch, but she knows how flexible you are. She’s seen you bend yourself like a pretzel just for fun– so she knows you can handle this.

“You let her touch my pussy?” It’s asked in a scarily calm tone. One that has a shiver running down your spine as you sink further into her intense gaze.

You can’t even react right away, brain too fuzzy from the newfound domination radiating off your girlfriend. Your mouth moves before the words can start forming, stuttering out fragments your brain can’t seem to currently process. You get snapped out of it when you feel a spank land onto your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt in her hold, and a cracked whine to rip out of your throat. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before, dancing right on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“I asked you a question, y/n.” She’s giving you another opportunity to be good for her, and you bite your lip as you weigh your options. You could listen now, but would that really get you what you want? “Answer me or I swear to god I won’t touch you for a month,” well never fucking mind we got Miss party pooper over here. Your eyes snap up to hers as the pout on your lips starts to form.

“No,” you cross your arms over your chest. “...but I might if you don’t hurry up and fuck me alre–” you get cut off by the another yelp leaving your lips. She’s landing another slap to your clit, this time with a little more force. There are tears gathering in your waterline now, and it makes Keira ruin her underwear a little more than she’d like to admit.

Is she upset? Yes. Is she more turned on than ever? Also yes. She’s prided herself on the fact she’s never had to punish you. Always bragging about you and your streak of being an unmatched good girl. So it’s hurting her ego a little bit to see you act this way. Has she been too sweet on you? Spoiled you to the point of being rotten? Well, now she has to correct those mistakes, and she will do it wherever she sees fit. You wanna be a brat in front of all your friends and a bunch of drunk strangers? That’s fine. You can all learn together what a lesson from Keira entails.

There’s something so intoxicating about you being bad, though. It’s filling her body with this tingling feeling, like all her nerves are vibrating from the adrenaline rushing to her head. It’s like an extinguished fire that’s been buried in her chest, and you’ve just reignited it by tenfold. Something low in her gut started to twist when she saw you pressed up against Leah. Not jealousy per se, something more carnal.

The blonde defender has always been a trouble maker, and Keira can’t help but get turned on when she thinks of her best friend corrupting you. Leah is the only person in the world to know your girlfriend better than you. They have years of built up trust, memories, and experiences together. Leah knows every single way to push her buttons…and she knew when Keira saw her whispering naughty little encouragements into her sweet girlfriend’s ear, that it’d set her over the edge.

“I’m getting real sick of your smart ass mouth, y/n,” Keira’s words are spoken so low and deep you think you might pass out right here. You could drown in her velvety smooth voice, getting lost in the way her tone drops as her patience wears thin.

“Then why don’t you do something about it—”

She cuts you off by plunging two of her fingers into your mouth. You gag at first, surprised by the intrusion as you try to calm your throat around her digits. Keira uses her other hand to grab the back of your head to keep you in place, and with that she starts fucking your mouth. She’s so close to your face that you can feel her breath dusting across your cheeks. She keeps her eyes locked onto your mouth, enchanted by the sight before her. She can hear the squelching of your spit coating her fingers, and it only adds to the erotic scene playing out between the two of you. She thrusts into your mouth for a few minutes, making sure you get them wet enough.

When she's satisfied she pulls them out, tapping your lips before she runs them down your body. She lets her nails scratch you as they move down your abdomen, leaving goosebumps to wise behind in their path. She skips over your pussy, letting her nails run along your inner thigh. A shiver takes over your body at the feeling, a new sense of arousal flooding in through your body. You try to cock your head down to watch her hand, but you're stopped by the one still holding your head in place. "Please, Kei! I need you, baby!" You don't care how loud or desperate you sound— this is torture.

"Oh so now you need me, huh? What happened to that big bad attitude you had earlier? All gone now that your pussy isn't getting stuffed?" This time you cower from the laugh she lets out after she speaks. It's dark and menacing; a side of her you didn't even know existed.

You manage the best pout you can muster up, eyes all wide and innocent as you lightly reach for her arm. "I always need you, Kiera."

"That's not true, now is it? You looked more than satisfied out there with Leah," Keira watches as your face heats up, holding back the grin that's pulling at her lips. "Was it me or her who made you this wet, baby? Maybe I should go get her and let her clean this mess up—"

It's you cutting her off this time, "N-No! I only get this wet for you— I swear! Just please touch me, okay? Please, I'll do anything!"

A wicked grin breaks out across her face, "Anything?"

You think you might smash your skull into the stall door behind you if she doesn't stop teasing you. Does she know how absolutely fucking sexy she is right now? And does she know how torturous it is to not be touched when you've craved this version of her? "Yes, fuck— anything! Please, baby…" You choke the last couple words out, a cry clogging your throat as your frustration builds.

She must take some pity on you, because she listens to you. She starts by rubbing through your folds, collecting your wetness. A small string of your arousal connects to her finger tips as she moves to rub your clit. It makes a moan pour out of your lips, back arching into her touch as it lights your body aflame. "Thank you, baby!"

Keira's hand on your head moves to your front, ripping the top of your dress down so she has access to your chest. She knew you hadn't worn a bra tonight, and honestly she's proud she's lasted this long before tearing it off. Her mouth goes straight to your tits, lips enclosing around your nipple as her free hand comes up to pinch at the other one. She lets two of her fingers slide into your pussy; not giving you a second to adjust before she's jack hammering into them. Her palm hits your clit perfectly, sending jolts of electricity from your core up to your spine with every thrust. You somehow arch your back even deeper, pushing your boobs further into your girlfriend's mouth.

"Feels s-so fucking g-goood!" You're slurring your words already, brain fogging up from the pleasure she's giving you.

You feel her laugh against your chest, the vibrations of it moving from your nipple down to your core. She pulls her face back after the pretty noise you let out from the action, a bodeful look overtaking her features. "Admit you liked Leah's hands on you," It makes your pussy gush into her hand. "I-I didn't!" You feel the heat rise back to your cheeks, and the tips of your ears turning bright red. That's how Keira always knows when you're lying, because of the cherry tomato tint that covers them. It always gives you away.

Her fingers curl up into your g-spot just as the bathroom door opens, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth...but Keira stops you. Her one hand captures both of your wrists, and she pins them above your head. That leaves you to bite down onto your bottom lip, trying with all your might to stay quiet. Keira rolls her eyes at that, slipping a third finger into your dripping cunt before increasing the speed and force behind her thrusts. The burn of the stretch is what breaks you, a pitiful moan echoing out across the tiled room. You don't even notice how hard you'd bit your lip until Keira's bending down to suck the blood off of it.

It's so dirty and taboo…so nasty. You genuinely had no idea how much of a fucking freak your girlfriend is….and you definitely didn't' know how much you'd enjoy it. She's ruining you with every second that passes, and ingraining a need for this kind of treatment, at least weekly. Keira doesn't know it yet, but she is destroying the good girl she once created.

"M'Gonna cum!" You slur it out as your eyes cross, legs shaking as Keira keeps you held up with her weight. Your eyesight is blurring out as you feel yourself start to tip over the edge…then it's gone. Just as fast as your high came about, it vanishes along with her fingers. She takes your leg on her shoulder off, softly setting it back down on the ground as you groan out from the discomfort. You feel tears gather in your eyes at the empty feeling left in your pussy. You go to open your mouth to complain, but Keira's wet hand comes up to pinch your cheeks together, effectively silencing you. "Not until you stop lying to me. Good girls don't lie," her grip tightens on your face, "and bad girls don't get to cum."

The tears in your waterline finally fall down your face. "I'm not lying.."

"Yes, you are. Now tell me the truth or we're going home, and I won't let you cum for a week if you lie to me again, y/n. Maybe if I punish you then you'll learn, hmm?"

"O-okay, fine!" It's your turn to be the one to roll your eyes now. A blush settling across your skin as you look anywhere, but at Keira. "…I liked it when she was touching me.."

She can't hold back her grin this time, "Who? Gotta be specific, baby."

You whine out as you struggle against her hand still keeping your wrists bound. The embarrassment of being caught is becoming too much for you to handle…and not in the way you'd expect. It's humiliating you, yet somehow you're getting wet from it. There are so many new feelings you're experiencing right now, and so fucking thankful it's Keira you're exploring them with. You take a deep breath before looking her in the eyes, "Leah! I liked it when Leah touched me, okay? Now please, baby!"

Your blood runs cold at the ominous laugh that burrows out of Keira's chest. You don't have time to think about it much, because then she's pulling you away from the door and unlocking it. Yanking it open as you scramble to pull your top back up. "You hear that, Le?"

Your head snaps up at that, eyes widening as you see the blonde standing directly in front of the open stall. "Oh I definitely heard that, Kei." She has a smirk sitting pretty on her lips as her eyes rack up and down your body, finally meeting your gaze as she flashes you a predatory smile.

You swear you must've of went into a trance after that. Because the next thing you remember is being in the back of a taxi, Keira and you making out as Leah's lips danced across your neck. Eventually your girlfriend pulled away and led your mouth to her best friend's, and took the spot of leaving love bites on your neck. They'd corned you in the elevator of the hotel, one on each side as they felt up on your body. Pulling sweet sounds from your mouth as you melted into their touch.

That leads us back to now. The two English footballers towering over you as you sit on the edge of the king size bed. "You sure you want to do this, love? You say the word and we can end this right now. There's no pressure on you, okay?" Keira's hand comes up to your cheek, her thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. A concerned look etches itself onto her face as she addresses you. You smile at her, letting your own hand come up to smooth the furrow in her brow. "I 100% want to do this. I know this is all new for me— for us together…but I want this," you take her hand into yours as you slide it up your thigh. She groans out when she feels the wetness leaking out all over them, 'I really fucking want this."

You don't get a verbal response from her, just a push to your shoulders that sends you flying back onto the duvet. A giggle escapes you as you bounce against the mattress, waiting for one of them to finally make you cum. Keira and Leah share a look as they switch positions. The blonde defender makes a place for herself between your legs, her hands going to your calves before she pushes them up against your chest. "I've been waiting years to get a taste of this sweet cunt. You should hear the way Keira describes it— says it's just like honey."

You flush as you go to look at your girlfriend, a playful smile on her face. "Y-you talk about me?"

"Of course I do, love. How could I not when you've got the best fucking pussy I've ever had?" She strips her clothes off as she climbs up on the bed. After pulling your dress off she settles down above your head, her cunt presented to you for your viewing pleasure. Before you get a chance to ask her to sit on your face, Leah is thursting her tongue into your hole. Her nose rubs up into your clit as she stays buried to the hilt, moans flying out of your mouth as you get lost in the pleasure of hers. You're still so wound up, like a live wire ready to blow. So it's no surprise when you come tumbling towards the edge again, hands scrambling to reach out to Keira above you.

"Please don't stop! Please, baby!' But she just laughs at you as she lets you cling to her arm, wrestling one away from your tantalizing grip.

"I'm not the one you should be begging right now." She grabs your chin as she moves your head down, and your eyes lock with Leah's. "Please don't stop! Please, Le. I wanna cum for you..want you to taste me on your tongue." She moans into your cunt from your words, and it sends vibrations through your most sensitive nerves. It feels like a firework went off inside your gut, leaving you to be overwhelmed with the waves of pleasure rolling through your body. A cry falls from your lips as your thighs attempt to close around her head...but it's Keira who spreads them back open. She leans over your body as she gets onto her knees, and her lips find their way to your chest once again. She licks, sucks, bites…just about everything to your nipples. She knows how sensitive they are— hell she's even made you cum from just her mouth on your tits before. So she can't even imagine how good you feel right now. "I can't h-hold it, baby! Can I please c-cum?"

Keira knows it's directed at her this time. If the pet name wasn't enough, everyone knows only she owns your orgasms. Leah might be the one between your legs right now, but make no mistake...Keira is the one to decide if, how, and when you get to cum. You're lucky she's feeling so generous tonight, because with one breath she's detaching from your tits. "Go ahead and show her why I brag about you so much. Cum all over her tongue for me, baby."

Your nails dig into your girlfriend's arms as your back arches off of the bed. Keira's hands hold your hips down for her best friend as she pulls away from your hickey covered tits, groaning out at the sight in front of her. Leah's eyes are rolling into the back of her head as her jaw works overtime. Keira can see the wet muscle thrusting into your pussy, a coat of white cream spilling all into the blonde's mouth. Leah lets one of her hands come up to rub at your clit as she starts moving her head, sucking up every ounce of your essence that leaks out. It's like goddamn nectar and Leah can't get enough of it.

She only pulls away once Keira's hand is pushing her head to give you a break. You are absolutely boneless under the two women, eyes barley open as you try and catch your breath. Keira crawls back as they go to examine your condition after a round like that. Leah's the first to break the silence, "I think we bloody killed her, mate."

"Oh trust me, she's fine. Plus we haven't even showed her our surprise yet—"

"Surprise? What surprise?!"

"Oh and suddenly you're just fully awake, huh?" Leah laughs out, shaking her head as she gives Keira a look.

"I told you she was fine, just needed a little encouragement. Ain't that right, baby?"

"Mhm…sooo about this surprise?"

"Well someone's a little impatient," Leah says as she shakes her head, "Close your eyes first, darling."

You dramatically sigh before following her instructions.

"Again, just trust me. She always is when it comes to surprises," the two of them keep talking like you aren't even there. Walking over to two bags you still haven't noticed magically appeared in your room. You hear some rustling around, but mostly silence. It lets your mind drift for the first time tonight, and a sinking feeling fills your gut as you realize something.

"WAIT!" Your eyes snap open, "H-how do you two have a surprise for me?" You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the revelation. "And how'd those bags get in here?"

They just share a crimson smile as they turn back towards you, and you gasp at what you're met with. Both of them approaching you with a strap on attached to their hips. Leah is the once again the one to speak, "Oh don't worry, darling. I told Kei allll about your little plan. You didn't really think a little kitten like you was calling the shots, did you?"

A whole new feeling of arousal seeps into your bloodstream…because now you realize just how calculated this whole night has been. She knew every step of your plan and then used it against you…and you played right into her hand. Now you're at the complete disposal of not one, but two very…very worked up athletes. It terrifies and excites you at the same time. They start climbing onto the bed as they skewer you between them, man handling you onto your hands and knees. A silicone cock rests against your cheek and the other on your ass, grinding into everywhere but where you need them most. You look up to see who’s at your front end, the tall blonde’s abs are the first thing you’re greeted with. Her voice drops a few octaves as her eyes grow darker.

"We're just getting started, darling."

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