#this fully just made me cry twice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 6 months

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TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI

✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 10.6k

✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.

✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully

A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.

You're failing ethics.

You're failing ethics and failing it badly.

You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?

Apparently this one. But whatever.

In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.

After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.

Still, better than not graduating at all.

You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.

You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.

In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.

How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.

Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.

So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.

However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.

You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.

He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.

What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.

You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.

But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.

You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.

You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.

Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.

Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.

The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.

The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.

And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.

The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.

You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.

The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.

And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.

And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.

There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.

You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.

The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.

More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.

Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.

He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.

"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"

He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.

"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."

The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.

"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"

There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.

"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."

He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.

"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."

You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.

You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.

"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."

Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.

It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.

You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.

"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."

Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.

"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."

A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.

"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."

He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.

But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.

You need to pass this class.

___

You meet up with Nobara after the fact.

She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.

So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.

"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."

"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"

She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.

"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"

You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.

"Nobara."

"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"

"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."

"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"

"It's not that!"

"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"

"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."

"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."

"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"

"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"

"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."

"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."

"Nobara!"

"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."

"That is so untrue and you know it—"

"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."

"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"

"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."

The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.

But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?

The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.

When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."

You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.

"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."

"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."

You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.

(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)

You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.

And that is, of course, by any means necessary.

Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.

He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.

But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.

But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.

Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.

He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.

"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"

"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."

"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."

"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"

Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.

"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."

"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.

"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."

You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.

You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.

Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.

You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.

You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.

It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."

You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.

He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.

He breaks the silence first.

"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"

You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.

"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."

"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"

"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."

"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."

"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."

Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.

"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."

"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"

You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.

"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"

He cuts you off.

"Has it?"

Your brain stutters to halt.

"Uhm. Yes?"

It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.

"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."

"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."

"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."

You glance at him.

"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."

"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"

"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."

"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.

And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.

"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"

"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"

"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."

The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.

"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"

"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."

"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.

"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.

"Yes. I need to pass."

"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."

Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.

His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.

"Sit."

So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.

He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.

Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.

"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"

You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.

"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"

"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.

Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.

Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.

His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.

Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"

Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.

"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."

You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.

"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.

"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."

Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.

"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."

You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.

In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.

A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.

You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.

"What are you doing here?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.

"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."

"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"

You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.

"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.

"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"

"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."

"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.

Your heart drops.

"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"

A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."

Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."

Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.

Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself

"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"

You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.

"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"

"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."

"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"

You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.

"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head.

"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."

You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.

But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.

Your heart stammers.

"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."

He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.

"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."

Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.

"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."

He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.

But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look

"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."

"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."

You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.

"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."

He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.

Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.

You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.

You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.

"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."

"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.

"Toji's just fine sweetheart."

You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.

"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"

Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.

His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.

Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.

Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.

"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"

Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.

"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"

"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."

"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"

"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."

He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.

"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again

"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."

"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.

"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."

"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.

"Consider it an apology."

The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.

"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."

Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.

Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.

Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.

He groans behind you, shuddering

"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."

"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."

"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"

"You heard her teach."

Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.

"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."

He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.

Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.

"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."

You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.

"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.

A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.

The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.

"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.

Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.

Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.

"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."

You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.

Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.

As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.

There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.

You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.

"...So, did I pass?"

Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.

"With flying colors."

#toji x reader #getou x reader #toji smut #getou smut #writing tag #jjk x reader #dubcon cw #age gaps cw #blackmail cw #coercion cw #lmk if i missed anything

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eternalxvenus · 1 month

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 3 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain.

wc: 1.4k

notes: part three out in less than 24hrs?!? who would've thought

previous chapters: part 1 | part 2

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

Your heartbeat started to pick up, but you weren't sure why. Topper didn't say it was anything bad, but you knew realistically he wouldn't be texting you unless it was.

You: hey Top, what's going on?

Topper: are you busy? can I swing by?

You: i'm on the mainland right now, can you tell me over text? i'm worried

Topper: yeah... so I don't know if you know but Rafe went to Kelce's party a couple days ago.

You: yeah I know

The sinking feeling in your chest lifts a little. You figured Topper was going to tell you Rafe had been doing coke since he knew Rafe was supposed to quit.

Topper: while he was there he started doing lines off the table. then a little later he started making out with Sofia. i'm not sure how far it went

You stared at the message for what felt like forever. Then a video pops up in the chat, so you click play.

There are some random people doing lines, but then in the back corner, you can see Rafe and his ex-girlfriend Sofia practically trying to eat each other's faces. You couldn't seem to find the energy to be sad about it. You felt almost indifferent but shocked at the same time.

You: thanks for letting me know Top

Topper: of course and just know you don't deserve that.

You click out of your messages and before you can think twice, your phone is ringing, waiting for your call to be picked up.

"Hello?" Rafe's voice came in through the speakers. He sounded tired but not like he had been asleep.

"Rafe. I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth."

"Okay... what is it?"

There was silence as you took a deep breath. Your voice was smooth and calm as you asked, "Did you cheat on me?"

You heard shuffling on the other end of the line. "What?"

"Did you cheat on me, Rafe?"

"No, I didn't cheat on you. What is going on?" He sounded baffled by your question.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Rafe! I saw the video," You tried to keep your voice low since your parents were probably asleep.

"Baby what are you talking about I'm not lying! I didn't cheat on you. You know what, I'm coming to the mainland. I'll be over there soon."

He ended the call before you could tell him not to bother. The last thing you wanted to see was his stupid face, knowing his lips were all over Sofia's, and God knows what else they did.

At the beginning of your relationship you were really insecure because of his history with Sofia but Rafe always assured you that he wasn’t interested in her anymore. You laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the video played over and over in your head. All you could wonder was what made your relationship with Rafe go left so quickly. You felt like crying and punching Rafe all at once. He made you feel so much at one time it could be so overwhelming.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Your phone chimed a while later with a text from Rafe saying 'I'm here. Please let me in so we can talk.’

With a sigh you begrudgingly made your way downstairs and to the front door. When you opened it Rafe was standing there with a tired yet worried look on his face.

"Can I please-"

You put a finger up to your lips. "Shh. You'll wake up my parents." You let him inside and signaled him to follow you into your room. Before you can close the door fully, Rafe starts asking questions. "Why do you think I cheated on you? What video are you talking about?"

"Rafe, I saw a video of you sucking face with Sofia at Kelce's party. Did you fuck her too? Is that why you didn't text me all day?"

Rafe was looking at you like you'd grown two heads. "I am so fucking lost right now. I don't even think I saw Sofia at the party!"

You pull up the video and show it to Rafe. He watches it a few times before sitting on your bed with a sigh, dragging his hands over his face. You watch him with your arms crossed, waiting to see what he'll say. Rafe then pulls his phone out of his pocket, pulling something up.

"Look, this is a picture taken the day of the party." He shows you a random photo that was taken of him and Kelce, also displaying the date on it.

"So what?"

Rafe grabs your phone going back to the video and zooming in on the spot where he is seen kissing Sofia. "My outfit isn't the same in the video. It's an old video from when we were together."

Looking at both the phones you realize that he's right. "Oh... well why would Topper send me this if it's old?" You question out loud

"Wait a minute, Topper sent you this?"

"Yeah he texted me earlier saying we needed to talk but I told him I was on the mainland." You show Rafe the texts from Topper and he's seething.

"I could kill that son of bitch!" He shouted, and you had to cover his mouth, reminding him your parents were asleep. You sat on the bed looking at him, now you were the one who was confused so you decided to flat-out ask him what was going on.

"When you weren't talking to me I had told Kelce and Topper what was going on and he was the one who convinced me you didn't wanna be with me anymore. You were ignoring my calls and everything so he said I should just forget about you and not make things worse." Suddenly Rafe was on his knees with his hands on your hips.

"Baby listen, I know that I can be a major fuck up sometimes and that I don't have the best way of dealing with stress and everything but I would never cheat on you. I'm sorry about y'know, the coke and your birthday and everything else that I've ever done wrong, but I hope you realize that I love you so fucking much. You mean the world to me, and I don't wanna lose you." You stared at him with wide eyes as tears started to fall down his cheeks and brought up your hand to gently wipe them away. "So if you still want space, I'll give it to you. But I know I'm ready to change and make everything up to you."

You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. You definitely weren't expecting him to pour everything out like that. "I love you too, and I don't want you to think I'm ever judging you or being a hardass. I just worry about you. If something ever happened to you..." you sighed, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"I promise not to make you worry." Rafe stood up and kissed you hard while cradling your face. He tried to leave to give you space, but you insisted he'd stay and said you'd head back to the OBX tomorrow. Rafe wanted to talk to Topper in person, which you didn't see going well, but you'd worry about it tomorrow.

You gave him plenty of blankets and pillows since he didn't want to take up so much space in your twin bed and chose to sleep on the floor. Once you'd gotten under your blankets, sleep whisked you away.

Rafe, on the other hand, could barely get his mind to calm down. He was fucking enraged with Topper for trying to pull some bullshit like that. Rafe should've known he was a snake. He noticed the way Topper's eyes would linger on you or how his hugs went on for a little too long. But Rafe didn't think Topper was stupid enough to try and break you two up.

Now that he had finally cleared everything up with you, he wasn't worried. Rafe was going to take care of Topper as soon as he got back to OBX. He'll make sure to get the point across that nobody fucks with his girl and his relationship.

part 4

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe @devils-blackrose @spiderflunk @quicksilversg1rl

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cheollipop · 11 months

Text

like a dream

navi | taglist

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader x song mingi

w.c.: 2.7k

tags: smut, fluff, newly-established poly relationship

with only the orange hues of the lamp illuminating the room, they have you for the first time, and it feels just like a dream.

warnings: dom!yungi, sub!reader, fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink (of course), some begging, drooling, sloppy kisses, nicknames (baby, darling, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl), yunho's a little mean, and a tease, mingi is whipped, WHIPPED, some L bombs were dropped at the end, this is just straight up smut so don't come at me for the lack of an intro (￢_￢;)

A/N: thank you so much for the request!! this was my first time writing mingi and I enjoyed every second of it ^^ this fic made me experience every emotion known to man-- I was screaming, crying, debating with myself in the mirror, howling at the moon- ahem. anyway. happy reading!! (´ ∀ ` *)

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

➽────────────────────────❥

“Yunho, please,” you whined, voice breathy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He whispered back.

The lamp in the corner of the living room cast warm hues over Mingi’s face, creating angular shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. His lips were parted, shallow breaths blowing against your heated skin, moving closer to press feathery kisses to your jawline. Your palm glided over his toned torso, down his chest and over his perked-up nipples to reach the prominent tent in his sweatpants. A wave of warmth rushed to your core upon hearing Mingi’s choked moan when you cupped his bulge, squeezing your palm around the outline of his cock to revel in the sound again.

Yunho pressed himself to your back, his long fingers curling deliciously into your g-spot. Your thighs shook where they straddled Mingi’s, your hips pushing back to meet Yunho’s insistent thrusts. His other hand wrapped around you to grab your jaw, twisting your face until he could meet your eyes.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

You shuddered as his husky tone reverberated in your ear, closing your eyes for a few seconds to take in the pleasure his fingers were sending up your spine before he gave your head a firm shake. You blinked your eyes open, working your palm harder over Mingi’s hard length as you answered Yunho’s question.

“Want Mingi to fuck me,” you whispered. “please, Yunho, can he?”

“I don’t know, sweet girl...” a smirk tugged at Yunho’s lips and he stared at the man slumped against the backrest under you, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth and his eyebrows knitted while you gave his clothed bulge the attention he desperately wanted. Mingi looked up at the older man and tried to make sense of his words through the haze of pleasure fogging up his brain. “What do you say, Mingi? Do you think you can fit in this tight cunt?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, fuck. Please, Yunho,” Mingi looked up at the other man, his eyes teary and glazed over with lust while his cock throbbed under your palm. “She can take it. Right, jagi?”

You nodded desperately, scrambling to undo the drawstrings on Mingi’s sweatpants before tugging on the waistband. Yunho scissored his fingers inside you, once, twice, before pulling out completely and swatting your hands away, pulling down Mingi’s bottoms himself until his cock sprung out and slapped against his lower belly.

You gawked at the length, the tip red and angry, leaking translucent precum over his smooth skin.

“Intimidated?” Yunho whispered into your ear, to which you gave a slight nod. “I wanna watch Mingi fill up this pretty pussy,” he gave your clit a firm tap. “can you do that for me?”

You nodded again, sliding your folds up his length until you reached the tip, watching as Mingi held himself up by the base and helped you position yourself over him. Yunho stood back, taking in the sight of you sliding down Mingi’s cock, taking him inside your fluttering heat – inch by inch – until he was fully sheathed within your walls. It burned, but Mingi’s head rolled back against the cushion and his mouth parted to allow a hearty moan exit, the sound gravelly and erotic. His eyes were scrunched shut, the hands gripping your hips promising blossoming bruises the next day. A string of drool streamed from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, and you leaned forward to lick it off his face.

You ground your hips experimentally, Mingi’s cockhead brushing over the spot that made your eyes roll back. “Mingi-”

“Fuck, (y/n), if you move I’ll cum,” he warned, lifting his head up to gaze at you through lidded eyes. But you rolled your hips again, a sly smile playing at your lips for a few seconds as you watched Mingi struggle – his eyes fluttered shut once again and a shiver shook his body, his hands digging into your hips in a failed attempt to keep you still.

Slender fingers wrapped around your waist, warm lips pressing against the shell of your ear and Yunho’s voice took over your senses once again. “Enough, sweetheart. We’ve waited far too long for this for it to end so soon,” he muttered, pressing a tender kiss to your jawline.

You looked down at Mingi guiltily, but the eyes that stared back at you were brimming with fondness. “Come here,” he cupped the back of your neck and lowered your head to press his lips to yours, keeping them there for a few seconds before poking his tongue out to taste you. You felt the fingers holding your waist slip away and a body plop down on the couch beside you, but Mingi finally thrusted up into your aching cunt and your mind turned to jelly.

He patted your hip before squeezing it, urging you to move at your desired pace. With your hands flat against his chest, you lifted your hips until only his cockhead remained encased within your tight heat before slamming back down, swallowing the whispered string of curses Mingi expelled into your mouth. Leaning back, you cupped the side of his face, running your thumb over his plush bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, grunting when you teasingly clenched around him, sensing him adjust his position.

With another squeeze to your hips, Mingi began thrusting up into you, sucking your thumb into his mouth for a few seconds before letting it go, panting heavily while relentlessly driving his cock into your sopping heat.

“How does she feel, Mingi-ah?” Yunho’s voice wavered, his hand palming over the obvious tent in his pants.

“Fucking amazing,” a groan vibrated past Mingi’s parted lips as he pumped his cock into you, angling his thrusts directly into your g-spot and occasionally licking over the pad of your thumb that was slowly straying out of his mouth, smearing saliva down the side of his face.

Yunho reached out a hand to flick your nipple, pinching it between two fingers then soothing it with gentle back-and-forth strokes of his thumb. “Mm,” he hummed. “Make sure to get her all nice and wet for me. Fill her all the way up, yeah?”

Mingi made a sound of approval and your eyes rolled to the back of your head – something about the way they talked about you as though you weren’t present made the pleasure building up in your lower belly even more mind-numbing. But when you peeked at their faces, they looked back at you with stars in their eyes, awestruck as they watched you bounce on Mingi’s cock. The succession of breathy ah’s escaping your lips, the sheen of sweat reflecting the orange hues of the lamp, the way your nails left red streaks over Mingi’s chest; your very being weaved itself into their psyche, as though you had placed a spell on them, forever tying their souls to you.

“Gonna cum,” Mingi mumbled, sliding his hand down to your drenched folds and circling two fingers around your clit.

He pulled your hips down until you were stuffed full of his cock, your body locking up as he painted your walls white, Mingi’s warmth paired with his insistent fingers over your clit sending over the edge with him. The dim room darkened further, your features contorting when your orgasm finally washed over you. Mingi’s lips pressed against yours to swallow up your broken moans, expelling his own into your mouth when you clenched around him, trapping his cock inside as it spurt out the last of his load, leaving him a twitching mess between your walls.

The kiss turned soft – the slow dancing of lips while a ballad played in your head, tender touches grazing each other’s skin while heaving chests met and parted between your bodies. You missed the hurried shuffling beside you followed by the muted thuds of clothes hitting the floor, too entranced by the plushness of Mingi’s mouth moulding against your own, his palm rubbing soothing lines over the length of your spine.

Hasty fingers gripped your hips, startling you away from Mingi’s touch as Yunho pulled you off the man and lifted your hips, disregarding the whine you emitted when cum began to seep out of your fluttering hole. He pressed his cock between your folds, sliding it through the sticky mess and groaning as his neglected cock finally got some attention. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

It took you a few seconds to process what was happening, still dazed by the force of your first orgasm. “One second,” you whispered while adjusting your position, digging your knees into the couch cushions and grabbing onto Mingi’s shoulders. The man under you held your waist, staring up at you with so much fondness it made you blush. You quickly looked back at Yunho, hoping the younger man didn’t notice the heat tinting your cheeks. “Please,” you wiggled your hips back at him.

Yunho breathed out a laugh, positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re killing me,” he muttered as he pushed in, the blend of Mingi’s cum and your arousal making the slide easy.

You slumped down against Mingi while your walls worked to accommodate Yunho’s cock, squeezing around him as he bottomed-out inside you. He bent at the waist to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades, his hot breath blowing against the slick skin. “Fuck, (y/n), I’m not gonna last,” you felt his lips move over your spine. “You have to relax, baby.”

Sucking in a deep breath, you did as he said, rocking your hips back against him experimentally, the soft moan that echoed from behind you spurring you into repeating the motion. Yunho was in heaven, the woman he’d wanted for so long was finally his – his to love, his to touch, his to hold. He ground his hips into yours, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, watching how your back tensed and relaxed as pleasure seared through your veins every time his cock split you open. You reached for Mingi, pushing your parted lips together while Yunho straightened up to watch his cock enter you.

Fingers tangled into the hair at your crown and pulled you off Mingi, pressing you flush against Yunho’s chest and securing you there with an arm around your waist. He adjusted his arm to grab a fistful of your breast, brushing his finger over the perked-up nipple while he pistoned his cock into your dripping cunt.

“I didn’t wait this long to have you so you could slobber over Mingi while I fuck you,” he growled in your ear, lifting a knee up onto the couch next to Mingi’s thigh. “Now be a good girl and show him how you’re gonna cum on my cock, yeah?”

You nodded desperately, locking eyes with the man under you while Yunho sped up his thrusts, the lewd melody of skin-on-skin resounding between the four walls. Mingi’s palms glided over your thighs, from your knees to your hips then back down, subtly squeezing the soft flesh along the way before repeating the routine. His fingers dipped between your legs, cupping your cunt to feel Yunho’s length stretching you open.

“Fuck, she’s taking you so well,” he cursed, flicking your clit with his thumb to the rhythm of Yunho’s thrusts, whining pathetically at the praise.

“Do you like it when we tell you what a good girl you are?” Yunho purred, untangling his fingers from your hair to grab your jaw. He twisted your face to look at you, leaning forward to slot his lips against yours before dipping his tongue inside to lick over the roof of your mouth. Your whimpers and moans came out muffled, Yunho’s lips pressing harshly against your own as he neared his release, his cock hammering into you until the room around you blurred. “I’ve thought about having you like this for so long, (y/n). Come on, sweetheart, give it to me,” he whispered against your lips.

Your thighs shook violently, and you would’ve fallen over Mingi if it weren’t for Yunho’s secure hold on your waist. Compared to your first high – Mingi guiding you over the edge and into a warm field of ecstasy – your second was more like a shockwave, curling your body as painful pleasure sent your nerves into overdrive, beads of sweat trickling down your temples and a blazing flush spreading over your skin. You shook in Yunho’s arms, a staccato of moans – broken and high-pitched – ripping through your chest as he continued his brutal pace, chasing his own high while elongating yours. A string of curses followed by a succession of your name sounded behind you, and warmth expanded through your belly. Grinding his hips into yours, Yunho milked himself of every last drop before finally pulling out, fixing his gaze on your core as a mix of his cum and Mingi’s streamed out of your gaping hole.

It took him a few seconds to pry his eyes off you, bringing his free arm under your thighs to lift you off the couch. Mingi moved to the side, allowing Yunho to lay you down on the cushions with your sore legs resting over the younger man’s thighs. He tugged the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covered you with it then kneeled on the floor beside you to press a kiss to your forehead. Mingi’s hands massaged your aching muscles under the fluffy blanket, a pleased hum vibrating in your chest at the gesture.

“Are you okay?” Yunho sounded nervous. “It wasn’t too much?”

You shook your head, an easy smile stretching your lips. “It was perfect,” you could hear the next question at the tip of his tongue, hesitance and worry painting his features, “I’m sure. I promise.”

The wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed and he leaned in to place another kiss to the corner of your lips. Mingi watched from the side as the woman he was so infatuated with glanced between him and Yunho with hearts in her eyes, his chest bubbling with warmth and adoration.

“(Y/n),” he spoke, the rasp in his voice making the hair on your arms stand. “I love you.”

Your eyebrows raised and you paused for a few seconds, tears welling up in your eyes at the heartfelt confession. His eyes, so soft and loving, took in your features, down to the faintest mole painting your skin while his mouth curved into a smile that made your heart race. He didn’t seem alarmed at your sudden tears, the sparkle in his eyes glimmering brighter while he studied your face as though you were Aphrodite herself.

“I love you too,” you muttered, your bottom lip wobbling. Mingi’s hand found yours under the blanket, holding it firmly and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze. After a few seconds of wordless communication, you turned you head to the man beside you, gazing into his doe eyes that spoke aphonic words of poetry whenever they admired you, his smile colouring the world with vivid markers and crayons. “And you,” you reached your other hand to cup Yunho’s jaw. “I love you.”

You noted the subtle shaking of his bottom lip, his eyes glassy as he leaned down to pepper your face with kisses, whispered I love you’s tickling your skin as he dragged his lips from your forehead to your nose, then over your cheeks and jawline until he reached your lips. “This feels like a dream,” he whispered before tucking his face into the crook of your neck, hearing Mingi make a sound of agreement.

You giggled, carding your fingers through Yunho’s soft locks. Looking over at Mingi, his fingers rubbing comforting shapes into your skin, you wondered if it was a dream. The two men you yearned for, cried over, and thought you could never have, now surrounded you with their comforting warmth – Yunho’s steady breath blowing against your neck, his lips pressing feathery kisses to the delicate skin, and Mingi, eyes lidded with unending admiration and touch so soft it made you shiver all over.

Squeezing Mingi’s hand once more, you fluttered your eyes shut and allowed the two men to smother your senses, relaxing into the cushions as the love they so generously gave you seeped into your very soul.

“If it is… then I hope we never wake up.”

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#song mingi smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez smut #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #mingi x y/n #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #ateez fanfic #yunho smut #mingi smut #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #jeong yunho oneshot #mingi oneshot #kpop #kpop smut

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

HELLO OMG I ADORE U SM LIKE-❤❤

aside from my endless love and appreciation for you, i'd also like to make a request if that's okay!, it's also gonna be NSFW and kinda shameless so my apologies if it's kida weird- IM NEW TO THIS REQUESTING STUFF AND ITS ALWAYS SO AWKWARD ASKING FOR STUFF LIKE THIS😭 (grammar mistakes are also possible, english is my second language and my keyboard is dyslexic)

I'm having MAJOR sub Lucifer brainrot and would LOVE to read anything with my needy boy in it<3 had a specific scenerio where he's being edged to the point he's crying and trashing around a little as he's begging. For what?, he doesn't know, he's just whining and whimpering for anything at this point, just whining for his mommy to touch him and that it hurts so much but it's so good<33 ending with soft aftercare where he slowly comes out of his subspace by sucking on and groping mommys tits, falling asleep in a peaceful cuddle :)

a/n — I’m so sleepy right now, so apologies for any grammar mistakes. I’ve looked over it twice but i’m genuinely scared for when I reread this tomorrow morning.

summary — Lucifer being mercilessly edged before sucking on the readers tits to fall asleep.

warnings — Fem!reader, use of the word mommy, sub Lucifer, edging, dom reader, obviously

“Mommy, please, nngh—“ Lucifer squirms on the bed, “I’ve been such a good boy.”

“And you’ll continue to be one, at least until I say you can cum,” you coo down at him all too sweetly. He whines pathetically and bucks his cock up into your hand.

At this point you’d been edging him for hours, sucking him off, riding him, and now giving him a simple hand job. Surprisingly, Lucifer had held strong this whole time.

You couldn’t lie, you were fully expecting to have to punish him for coming prematurely but he had held himself together this whole time. You could only assume he’d just wanted to be good for you that bad.

It almost made you pity him. He squirmed and thrashed around on the bed below you, a slick layer of sweat coating his forehead as he held himself back. His hair fell on his forehead in messy tangles and his cheeks were stained with tears.

He looked absolutely wrecked, ready and willing to do your bidding. Of course, if it meant he could finally cum.

“Ungh, mommy, help me, please. Please—“ He pleaded desperately, sniffing loudly and choking on his own spit, “Please I can’t hold off…”

His sentence trailed off as he found it increasingly hard to form words, let alone coherent thoughts.

“I know sweetie, and you’ve been so patient and good for me,” you praise, rubbing your hand on the tip of his dick as precum leaked out.

He whimpered and arched his back into your touch. His crying and sniffling was only interrupted by the inconsistent muttering of the word ‘mommy’ over and over again.

“So pretty like this, absolutely wrecked and desperate. My pretty boy,” you remark, jerking him off faster, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

He cried out, moaning and sobbing and he through his head back into the pillow.

You shush him, “Have you had enough, sweetheart? Do you think it’s time for you to cum?”

He nods his head vigorously and lets out tears of relief at the thought of finally being permitted to release.

“Yes, nngh—“ he whines, “—mommy, please. ‘ve been so good.”

“Yes you have, Lucifer,” you caress his face with your free hand, “It’s time for you to let go baby. You’re allowed.”

You barely get your sentence out before Lucifer arches his back, throws his head into the pillows once more, and releases.

Falling back, breathless, he lays there and waits for your touch.

It doesn’t take long for you to take a spot next to him, brushing his hair from out of his face, “My pretty boy, you did so good for mommy.”

Lucifer whines and curls up, laying his head on your lap and gazing up at you with half lidded eyes.

You stroke his hair and coo down praises at him, telling him how well he took everything and how proud of him you are.

It was only when you were just about to get up and clean the bed, Lucifer lifted his head up and hovered his hand over your exposed tits.

“May I have one?” Lucifer practically whispers, clearly not at all recovered from his submissive headspace.

You hesitate, but you figure it’d be easier to clean up after he falls asleep so you can just move him to the side.

Happily, you smile down at him and nod, “Of course, baby. Help yourself.”

He doesn’t waste time before latching onto your tit and sucking lazily. He moans slightly as he gropes the other one with his hand.

You rub his back and pull him closer, “Good boy. You look so pretty sucking on mommy’s tits like this.”

He whimpers against you and his lips start to move sloppily. It was clear Lucifer was being lured into a deep sleep, just as you expected.

His movements got slower and slower, just as your praise turned into quiet whispers of approval.

Finally he stopped moving, gradually falling limp against your chest. You take a moment to admire him sleeping before moving him aside to cleanup.

You softly clean Lucifer’s sleeping body in order to not wake him up, and make sure there aren’t any lingering liquids on the sheets around you.

After doing one finale scope of the area, you crawl in bed next to him and pull him into your chest, spooning him gently.

He was so pretty like this, sleeping safe and soundly next to you.

a/n — The idea of Lucifer with a mommy kink intrigues me heavily. You guys gotta let me cook on the physiological reasons why he’s into it though.

Can’t think of any at the moment but i’m tired and he’s a fucked up little guy. So i’m sure there are some

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

TAGLIST: @mads-grace4 @anyas-stuff @liviloo12346 @bookofbee @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @stardust-chords-enthusiast @fruitcupsworld @sallymilkweed @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @daydreamerblues @spacelatinos4life @totallynotastanacc @honeycovered-bandaids @daddy-din @cedricbitch @tiredbuthappy @sweetpea99 @ghostfanwriter @daixylie @witchy-jadda @ninebluehearts @jbcalway @jasminedragoon @inkedells @ayehomo @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett

—

Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

—

4K notes · View notes

lustfulslxt · 2 months

Text

Teach Me - Chris Sturniolo

summary : after being stranded on a date because of your innocence, you want a taste of something more; you beg chris to teach you.

warnings : smut, innocent!reader, slutty bff!chris, oral, fingering, yk the usual

—

Everything was going well, until it wasn't. The first date you'd ever been asked on, and you were ecstatic. Someone had finally taken an interest in you. You got all dolled up and put on your nicest dress. You had your hair sitting pretty, and your makeup on point. You never imagined going all out for a guy, and it was all just for you to be left standing there in the parking lot.

"You look hot tonight." The guy across from you smirked, his leg brushing up against yours beneath the table.

You sent him a bashful smile while pulling your leg out of reach. "Thank you."

His smirk fell as he felt you pull away from him, his face hardening just the slightest bit, before relaxing it as best he could. "What do you say we get out of here?"

You frown, "What? Now? I haven't even finished eating."

He chuckles, "You've had plenty, come on."

He gets up from the table and reaches for your hand, and as much as what he had just said rubbed you the wrong way and made you feel unpleasant, you obliged and grabbed his hand anyway. He tugged you towards the exit, eagerly making his way to his car with you following in suite. You struggled a bit to keep up with his quick pace, having to step twice as many times as him just to not fall behind.

As soon as you reach his car, he presses you against it and slams his mouth on yours. You immediately push him back, staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows. He grins and pulls you back into him, forcing his tongue down your throat.

With another shove, you shout, "What is the matter with you?"

"Oh, come on! Give me a little taste." He chuckles, grabbing your arm.

"Are you serious? Yeah, I think I'll pass." You glare up at him, appalled by his thirst.

"For real?" He questions, until he realizes you're serious and instantly grows sour. "Then you can fucking stay here. Nobody wants a prude."

Before you can even fully register his words, he's in his car and speeding off, leaving you to stumble back in disbelief. You watch him dramatically drive away until his taillights fade into the distance. A frown pulls to your lips and tears well up in your eyes. Without another thought, you're pulling your phone out and calling the one person that never fails to be there for you when you need him.

"Hello?" He answers.

"Chris." You start, holding back your tears. "Can you come get me?"

He can hear it in your voice that you're beyond upset, and he's instantly sliding on his shoes. "Send me your location."

With that, you're sending him the address of the restaurant you're at. You sit on the curb, crossing your arms to provide you as much warmth as possible as the night wind starts to pick up. You put your head down, willing yourself not to cry over some loser that just wanted to get in your pants.

Soon enough, headlights shine in your peripheral, causing you to look up, only to be met with Chris walking towards you. You quickly stand and meet his embrace, his body encasing you in a much-needed warmth. His arms securely wrap around you, holding you snug against him.

"What happened?" He asks in a soft tone.

You pull away with a sigh of annoyance, "Guys suck."

He chuckles a bit before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you towards the passenger seat of his car. He opens the door, letting you take your seat. With a quick glance at you, he's shutting the door and making his way to his side. He gets in, and immediately heads for the road.

"Your house or mine?" He questions, shooting you a quick look before directing his eyes back to the street.

"Yours if that's okay." You reply.

He grins, grabbing your hand in his. "Always."

The rest of the ride is silent, and it's not long before he's pulling into his driveway. He parks in the garage and shuts the car off, the two of you getting out and heading inside.

Chris brings you directly to his bedroom, locking you two in there. You head for his bed while he goes to his dresser. He grabs out a t-shirt and goes into his bathroom, fishing for the makeup wipes he has for you for times like this. After retrieving them, he walks back over to you and holds his hands out.

“You’re spending the night. Go wash your face and get out of that dress.” He simply states.

“Wow, Chris. Keep acting like that and girls might actually think you care.” I tease, grabbing the shirt and wipes from his hands.

He rolls his eyes with a small grin on his lips, “I do care, but only for you. Any other girl that thinks that is lying to herself. Now, shut up and go do what you gotta do.”

You giggle, closing yourself in his bathroom to do as he says. Upon looking at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a little sad. Not because of some guy, but because you put so much effort into yourself for a guy, just for him to be the type you’ve been avoiding your whole life.

Taking a deep breath, you shake your head to rid your mind of your thoughts. Grabbing a wipe, you begin removing the makeup and wash your face off in the sink. Next, you kick your shoes off and remove the dress, replacing it with Chris’ shirt. His scent and laundry detergent linger in the fabric, pleasantly engulfing your senses. You grab your shoes and dress, then look at yourself, forcing a smile on your lips, and head back out to the bedroom.

“There’s my girl.” Chris says upon seeing you.

He’s sat on his bed, leaning against his headboard with his legs kicked out. He nods his head, silently beckoning you over. Your forced smile turns into a real one as you toss your belongings in the corner and make your way over to him.

“Hi.” You breathe, crawling next to him.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He mumbles, pulling you to lay on him.

Your arms hug his abdomen as you place your face on his lap, both of your legs intertwining with one another. This type of thing isn’t new to you, you and Chris have always been close in your friendship. Though, it’s never went further than cuddles.

“Thank you for coming to get me.” You whisper into his shirt.

His hands run through your hair, “You don’t have to thank me. I told you I always got you whenever you need me.”

You look up at him and smile, squeezing him just a bit harder. You lay your head back down and close your eyes.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

You sigh and shuffle around to where your back is on the bed, but your head is in his lap. You catch his eyes as he stares down at you and all you can feel is safe.

“Do guys not like inexperienced girls?” You ask him.

He furrows his brows as confusion plasters across his face. “What do you mean?”

“Say, you’re out with a girl. Does her not wanting to do anything with you or having never done anything before turn you off?”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t really matter to me.”

You ponder for a moment, biting your bottom lip as he intently watches you. He places his hand on your jaw and softly presses his thumb to your chin, pulling down so you release your lip.

“What about me?” You finally ask in a quiet voice.

He hums, “What about you?”

“You know I’ve never done anything before. I’ve never even kissed a guy until tonight. Does that turn you off?”

“You kissed him?” He gapes at you.

You frown just a bit, “Well, more so he kissed me. I had to keep pushing him away.”

“He was trying to force you?”

You can see Chris becoming infuriated, so you place a hand on his cheek in an attempt to calm him. “Hey, he just kept trying to kiss me. When he realized I wasn’t giving in, he left.”

Chris doesn’t say anything as he looks off into the distance.

“You never answered my question.”

He glances at you with a look you can’t really decipher. “You could never turn me off.”

A foreign feeling flutters in your stomach and your cheeks grow pink beneath his warm hands. You can’t help but look away as your blush deepens and Chris chuckles.

“You’re blushing.” He obviously points out.

You push one of his hands away from you and roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

It’s silent again and your thoughts end up roaming all over the place; Chris being the main focus for the majority of them.

“Does that mean I turn you on?” You hesitantly ask him.

He raises an eyebrow, “Where’s all this coming from?”

“I don’t know. He called me a prude.” You admit.

“Just because you didn’t want him doesn’t mean you’re a prude.” Chris responds as he caresses your face.

“He’s not wrong though.” You shyly say, “I’m twenty years old and I’ve never done anything like that ever.”

Chris shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter. You’ll do shit when you’re ready. Kid’s just mad you wouldn’t suck his dick.”

“Would you get mad?” You ask, curiously.

He laughs, loudly, “No. If I wanted it that bad, I’d call up someone else to come suck me off.”

“That was a very whore-ish thing to say.” You giggle, before adding with finger quotations, “I’ve never ‘sucked someone off’.”

“That’s because you’re a prude.” He teases.

You groan, pushing yourself off of him. He quickly grabs your waist and pulls you back to him so you can’t run off. Only now, you’re suddenly straddling his lap. He gulps at this new position the two of you have never been in, immediately shaking the dirty thoughts away.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just teasing.” He grins.

“Will you teach me?” You randomly ask, doe eyes wide as you stare at him.

He chokes on his saliva, completely thrown off by your question, “W-what?”

“Will you teach me how to suck dick?” You reiterate, adding, “As friends.”

“As friends?” He repeats with a slight chuckle. “I don’t know how to suck dick either.”

You groan once more, pushing his shoulder back. “Come on, be serious. You know in a sense of what you like.”

“I’m not teaching you how to suck my dick.” He forces out in a breath.

“Why not?” You pout.

His heart is practically beating of his chest at your sudden desire to give him head. He so badly wants to remove his pants and slide his cock down your wet throat. He wants to see your pretty lips puckered around him. He wants to feel you gag on him as you try to take all of him in your mouth. He wants to see tears running down your cheeks as you work him.

He quickly shakes his head, almost unable to catch his breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please? It won’t mean anything, and you basically get free head.” You add, trying to sway him.

“Free head is crazy.” He chuckles, attempting to avoid your question.

You readjust yourself in his lap, causing him to squeeze your hips with wide eyes. You halt your movement, unaware of what’s going on with him.

“M-maybe you should get up.” He says, deeply inhaling through his nose.

You’re confused, but nonetheless, you lift your hips from him and kick your leg over, attempting to scoot yourself to beside him. Only, he grabs your waist, stopping you once again.

Chris is having an internal battle right now. Your words awoke something feral in him, and he’s fighting with himself to not give in. He wants nothing more than to comply with your request, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to control himself. Yet, he still wants you on him.

You find yourself now straddling his thigh this time, the heat between your legs resting on his clothed leg. He can feel your warmth, causing him to lean his head back in contemplation.

“Think of it as a favor.” You say with a shrug, “You teach me, and in return, get your dick sucked.”

“Y/N.” He breathes as his mind flashes with erotic fantasies.

“Hey, I’m not forcing you. If you’re not interested-“ You get up for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

“Wait.” He speaks through gritted teeth.

You kneel next to him, waiting for him to continue. He looks at you with half lidded eyes, and you can practically see his inner turmoil. He places his hand on his jeans, pushing it around with his bottom lip between his teeth.

You glance down and are suddenly aware of his growing erection. Your stomach twists at the thought of being the reason he’s getting hard, and it makes you feel somewhat good about yourself.

His hand grabs the bottom of his shirt, sliding it upwards to just above his belly button, revealing his happy trail. His eyes lock onto yours as his hand cups your cheek, guiding you down towards the bulge in his pants.

“I’m not sure we should start something we can’t stop.” He breathes as he feels the warmth emitting from your face through his jeans.

“Who says we can’t stop?” You ask in a whisper as you place your hands on his belt.

He’s so sensitive right now, he can feel your breath as you speak. Unable to help himself, he bucks his hips up into your hands, eyes closing from the sensation.

His hands guide yours to undo his belt. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

"It'll be okay." You say, your voice barely audible.

Your veins flood with anxiety as you unbuckle his belt. You're excited, but nervous. What if you don't do it right? What if he laughs at you? You grasp the belt and slowly pull it from his belt loops, Chris lifting his hips to help you. His eyes haven't left you once, soaking in the way you innocently aim to please him.

You unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper, so slow almost as if you're purposely trying to tease him. You grab the waistband of his jeans, his pulling them down as he lifted up just a bit. You can see his dick straining against his boxers. You can't help but widen your eyes at the size of him.

He smirks at your reaction, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your cheek. His fingertips softly grip the back of your head, pulling you down to his throbbing member. Your lips meet his boxers, feeling waves of warmth through it. Chris takes a deep breath as your plump lips drag over the fabric.

"So, I just take these off. Yeah?" You innocently ask.

Chris chuckles at your cluelessness and nods, assisting you in removing the last piece of clothing on his lower half. His dick springs up, fully erect and throbbing. Your mouth visibly falls open at the sight. You can see veins dancing along his shaft, his head an angry red.

"What I do now?" You shyly question.

His hand wraps around the base, pumping a few times. "Spit on the tip."

You blush under his intense gaze, gathering as much saliva as you could. You lean over him, puckering your lips and pushing it all out with your tongue. It slowly falls onto the tip, causing his dick to twitch. He closes his eyes at the warm sensation, but quickly opens them to watch you again. You watch as the spit dribbles down his length, working around the veins.

"Then, you use your hand to spread it all around and get it nice and wet." He huskily informs.

You look at his face and he nods, encouragingly. Your hand slowly meets his member, and he groans from your delicate touch. Your fingers wrap around his girth, beginning to pump your hand up and down to spread your saliva. Chris' hand clenches the sheet beneath him, his breathing becoming shaky.

"Chris." You whisper, causing his eyes to snap open.

"What?" He breathes.

"What now?" You can't help but giggle.

"Right." He licks his lips. "Uh, just lick the tip."

You hesitantly lean forward, blatantly unaware of what you're doing. However, you do as he says. Your tongue flicks over the tip, slowly circling around it, pulling a low groan from his throat.

"I'm sorry, was that, okay?" You ask, worriedly.

"F-fuck, yes." He mumbles, his eyes drinking in the way you work his tip. "Then, you put it in your mouth. Bob your head up and down as you suck and use your hand-like this." His hand engulfs yours around his member, showing you what to do with the remaining cock you can't fit in your mouth. "Shit, good girl." He praises with a heaving chest.

Your tongue slides over his tip once more, causing his hips to buck, shoving his dick in your face. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, and you look up at him.

"Sorry." He chuckles, running his thumb over your lips.

You can't help but smile at his smile, then proceed to take him into your mouth. You flatten your tongue and slide down his shaft. Your lips wrap around him so perfectly, eliciting another moan from him, which only encourages you. His hands tangle in your hair as you bob your head, your mouth drooling down his member.

"Fuck, just like that." He groans, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

You place one of your hands on his thigh, the other pumping the remaining of his length that you can't fit. Your tongue glides along the vein on the underside of his dick, traveling back upwards and around his tip. Chris tosses his head back, his jaw clenching as waves of pleasure flood through his body.

"It's so hot that mine is the first cock you've ever had in your pretty little mouth." He moans, caressing the sides of your face.

His hands grip the sides of your head, and he thrusts upwards, shoving his dick down your throat. You gag around him with every thrust, snapping him from the trance he's in. He quickly pulls his hands from your head and places them on the sheet, squeezing it once again.

"Sorry, feels so good." He grunts, willing himself not to overwhelm you.

You pull away from his dick, strings of saliva keeping you connected. You grab his hands and place them on your head, "Do it again."

You can tell it's what he likes, and his moans of pleasure make you feel good, you want to hear them over and over. You can feel a burning desire for him growing in your stomach, a feeling so foreign and unusual. It makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Chris' eyes damn near roll to the back of his head from your words. His hands softly grip your head and his hips thrust up, continuously fucking into your mouth. Wet gags fill the room, and his eyes take in the sight in front of him. Your eyes glisten with tears as they stream down your face, spit bubbles gathering on the sides of your mouth.

He can't help the moans that fall from his mouth as his orgasm builds. His stomach tightens, his muscles flexing as his toes curl. He throws his head back, his mouth falling slack, silent groans leaving it. His thrusts slow as a guttural moan emits from his throat, his hot load shooting into your mouth and down your throat.

His movements stop, so you wrap your lips firmly around him once again. You suck around him, your tongue gathering the remnants of his orgasm. His legs twitch from overstimulation before he's pushing your head off of him with a hiss.

"Sorry!" You rush out with wide eyes.

He faces the ceiling with closed eyes as his chest heaves with heavy pants. His cheeks are flushed a rosy color, his bottom lip swollen from biting down on it. He peeks at you with half lidded eyes, staring at you with such an intense gaze. His fingertips trace the outline of your jaw as filthy thoughts flood his brain.

His hand grips your chin and pulls you up so that you're straddling him again, leaving your faces centimeters apart. His eyes roam all over your face, taking in your expression, attempting to read you.

Your lips are red and plump with dribbles of saliva in the corners and your hair is a mess from his grabby hands. Just the sight of you makes his cock start throbbing again. He wants to do so many naughty things.

"How was that?" You ask in a whisper.

His gaze lands on your lips, subconsciously licking his own as he admires you. His thumb brushes over the soft skin once again, pulling it down and softly pressing into your mouth. The pad of his fingertip rests on your warm tongue, and you can feel him growing underneath your weight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You question, forgetting that he hasn't answered your previous question.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea." He mumbles, his eyes never leaving your face as his hand meets your hip, squeezing it.

You suck in a breath at the feeling, involuntarily clenching. "Why not? You finished, didn't you?"

"Mm, because now I can't stop thinking about filling you up." He huskily whispers.

Your eyes widen at his words, looking down towards your meeting groins. His free hand runs up from your knee, digging his fingertips into your bare thigh. His hand on your hip moves around your back, sliding up the shirt of his that you're wearing. You can feel his nails run over your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"Fill me up?" You repeat in an innocent tone.

He practically groans from your voice, his hands meeting your hips, holding you in place as he ruts up into you. The action pulls a soft moan from your lips as it felt pleasant against your needy core. The feeling was unusual, but you want to feel it again. The sound that left your mouth goes straight through him, his cock twitching with desperation.

"Fuck." He mumbles, barely audible. "God, I can't do this."

"I can get up." You mutter, suddenly feeling a bit insecure, unaware of the dilemma he's going through.

"No." He grits, his hands tightening on your hips. "That's the problem."

You frown, "I-I don't understand, Chris."

"God, even the way you say my name." He practically whines, his eyebrows furrowing as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He shuffles beneath you, exposing his hard member. He grasps your hand and places it on his dick, both of your hands engulfing his length.

"See what you do to me?" He groans at the feeling of your soft hand around him. "I knew crossing that line wasn't a good idea, because now it's all I can think about. I wanna be buried inside of you. I wanna feel you squeeze around me. Wanna hear your pretty little moans, all for me. God, I wanna make you feel so fucking good it's all you know."

Your mouth falls slack as he speaks, a feeling swirling in your stomach as you take in his words. You feel tempted, your attraction and desire for him burning brighter, turned on from the thought even though you've never had what he's implying.

"Do it." You whisper, your eyes set on his face.

"W-what?" He gapes, his eyes frantically searching over you.

"I've never had sex before." You say, "Teach me. Make me feel good."

He shakes his head, letting out a breath. "I don't think I can control myself; I don't want to hurt you."

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You lean closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. You can feel his breath against your face from the close proximity. You hesitantly brush you lips against his, looking for any signs to discontinue. However, Chris wraps his hand around your neck and yanks you into him, slamming his lips on yours.

You can't help but moan into the kiss, driving Chris insane. His lips work against yours so feverishly, hungry for you. He places his opposite hand on the small of your back, supporting you as he flips the two of you over.

You gasp from the sudden movement, Chris taking the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. He explores your mouth, his tongue gliding over yours so perfectly. He pulls away, leaving you breathless, and turns your head so that he can work on your neck. The second he starts leaving open mouthed kisses, your breathing becomes erratic as small whines leave your mouth, only fueling his hunger.

He licks and nips at your sensitive skin, eliciting quiet moans and pants. His hands slide under your shirt, caressing your body with the right amount of pressure. You've never been in this situation before, but you love it, especially since it's with Chris. Your skin burns beneath his touch, you can feel yourself growing wet beneath him.

"You're sure you want to do this?" He questions, barely breaking away from your neck.

You only nod in response, your breath caught in your throat as he continues to suck.

He pulls away, his hand turning your face to him. "I need your words, baby."

"Yes, Chris." You whine, squeezing your thighs together. "Please."

He gives you a tiny smirk and pulls you up so he can remove your top. He swiftly pulls your shirt over your head, the cool air causing you to shiver. His hands run up your sides, admiring your body. He reaches behind you, his fingers finding the back of your bra, and quickly unbuckles it. Grabbing the straps, he guides them down your arms, leaving you topless.

You quickly cover up, suddenly feeling a bit insecure, having never been exposed like this in front of someone.

He grabs your arms, pulling them down as he interlocks your hands. "No need to hide from me, pretty girl. Just wanna make you feel good."

Chris pulls you back into him, one of his hands placed on your lower back while the other one holds your cheek. He presses his lips to yours, in a softer kiss than before. Pulling away, he swiftly removes his shirt, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

As you stare at his physique, he grabs your wrists and places your hands on his bare chest. You take the hint and run them over his smooth skin, feeling his body heat beneath your palms. Chris grins at you, engulfing your breasts in his hands, tenderly squeezing them. A small whimper leaves your mouth at the feeling.

Chris leans you back, taking his place hovering over you. His hand brushes your hair out of your face as he stares down at you with dark eyes. His fingertips caress your cheek as he takes in your features.

"So fucking pretty." He mumbles against your lips, before kissing you.

The kiss is gentle and almost loving, your lips moving softly together. That only lasts for a moment before he's deepening it. It becomes messy and feverish, both of you needy and desperate for more. He pulls away, a string of saliva attached to both of your mouths. Then, he makes his way back down your neck.

He litters your sensitive skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses. His tongue flicks over every inch, his teeth softly biting down, leaving dark bruises in his wake. You can't help but whine beneath him, relishing in this new feeling he's bringing you.

It's not long before he lowers himself again. His mouth nips at your chest, peppering you with wet kisses. His teeth graze the soft skin of your breasts, working his way towards your nipples. His hands engulf the mounds of fat, squeezing and massaging them. He wraps his lips around one nipple, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, causing you to arch your back into him. His hand tweaks the other one, stimulating them both, before taking turns with each.

"That feels good." You whine, your hands tangling in his hair.

"Mm." He hums, "Just you wait, baby. Gonna make you feel so good."

With that, he's traveling down your stomach, leaving kisses along the way. Your skin is on fire, and you find it hard to breathe. He's getting closer and closer to your most sensitive bits, and you're becoming slightly nervous, having never experienced this. His mouth meets the waistband of your panties, leaving kisses across the elastic.

He pauses, glancing up at you. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." You breathe, "Yes, please."

He shoots you a grin, his head lowering towards your thighs. He spreads your legs, and his mouth meets the plush skin, sensually kissing and marking both legs. Your head is clouded with lust, not a single thought in your mind, except for Chris.

As he moves up towards your center, you feel yourself repeatedly clenching. His lips meet the fabric of your panties, placing a soft kiss over your clothed clit, causing you to buck your hips into him. He smirks to himself, bringing his fingers up and rubbing you through the cotton.

You gasp from the feeling, quietly whispering, "Oh, my god."

He lifts his head, watching you as he works you through your panties, the fabric quickly becoming drenched with your arousal. He practically moans at the entire sight of you. Without a word, his fingers are dipping into your underwear, swiftly pulling them down and off your feet, leaving you naked beneath him.

Just as you're about to close your legs, feeling exposed, Chris wraps his hands around each thigh, spreading them even farther apart. The sight of your dripping pussy has his mouth watering. As he crawls in between your legs, your sweet aroma floods his nostrils, causing him to groan in satisfaction.

"Such a pretty pussy. All for me." He huskily speaks.

Your body is tense with anticipation of what's to come. Chris places an open-mouthed kiss over your throbbing clit, pulling a whimper from your throat. You stare down at him, his eye connecting with yours as he drags his tongue through your folds, from your entrance to your clit. You can't help the high-pitched moan that falls from your mouth.

The feeling is like no other, and you find yourself grinding down into his mouth. His tongue laps your wetness, indulging in the sweet taste of your essence. He puckers his lips, wrapping them around your aching clit, softly sucking on it, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. You're left twitching beneath him, egging him to keep going.

"God, you taste so fucking delicious." He mumbles against you, the vibrations coursing through your body.

The foreign feeling starts building in your stomach, and you can only assume your orgasm is close. Your hands lace through his locks, gripping them as you moan. Chris' mouth is drenched in your juices, the warm wetness dripping down his chin as he devours you.

You begin writhing beneath him, causing him to hold you still with a harsh grip on your thighs. He's completely lost in the taste of you, possibly enjoying himself more than you are.

Your face contorts in pleasure, your hole clenching around nothing as he continues working you so deliciously. The knot in your stomach tightens, your fingers tugging his hair.

"Chris, oh my god." You cry out, bucking into his face once more.

He shakes his face in your pussy, his tongue flat as it glides over your clit. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on his hair, crying out as you give into the feeling. The band in your stomach snaps, your juices rushing out into his mouth. Lewd moans emit from your mouth, Chris soaking every one of them up. Your body convulses under him, his grip on you tightening so he can finish you off.

He laps up your wetness, savoring every drop of it. Reluctantly, he pulls away, not wanting to stop, but not wanting to overwhelm you. He peaks up at you through his waves, the bottom half of his face glistening with your fluids. His lips are red as he licks them, attempting to taste even more of you.

"Can I keep going?" He questions, his fingers dancing on the skin around your heat. "I want to try something else."

You hum, slightly giggling, "Let me catch my breath for a moment."

He brings his cheek to your inner thigh, letting you rest for a moment. Though, it's not long before he's inching closer to your core. He teasingly rubs his nose against your swollen clit, causing you to twitch again. You hiss from the feeling, making him chuckle in delight. He admires you, deeply inhaling your scent, eager to make you cum again.

Without another word, his fingers are sliding through your folds, eliciting cries from you. You're so sensitive, but you don't want him to stop. He crawls over you, keeping his hand prodding at your pussy.

He has a goofy grin on his face as he takes in your expressions. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your hair matted from the constant wriggling of your head. You look incredibly fucked out, and knowing he hasn't even done much to you, makes him hot.

With his slender fingers still sliding up and down your slit, his lips meet yours. The taste of you lingers in his mouth as your mouths mold together. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, the taste of your essence more prominent. As his tongue explores your mouth, he takes the opportunity to slip a finger into your sopping entrance.

Your back arches into him, and he swallows every moan that leaves your mouth. He slowly pumps it in and out of you, the sound of your wetness very evident. The slick sounds fill the air as you both moan into each other's mouths.

He breaks away, leaving you breathless. "Look at you. You're loving it."

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hold back your sounds as your frantically nod your head. His pace quickens, his finger rapidly pumping in and out of you. Your brows knit together in pleasure, your fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"Just wanna make you feel good, baby." He coos, "You look so pretty like this for me."

Your mouth opens, silent moans leaving it. As if he can't help it, his opposite hand slides up your neck, his middle and ring finger poking into your mouth, pulling your jaw further down. His eyes never leave your face as he slides another finger into your pussy. Broken moans fall from your mouth as he works you so well.

He soaks in every hint of enjoyment you release, loving that he can make you feel so good. Loving that he's the only one that's ever made you feel this good. His cock throbs at the sight of you, yearning to be buried inside of you. His movements increase in speed and force, becoming rough for just a second, before he's removing his hand altogether.

You're left breathless and whiny at the loss of contact, your mind stuck in a daze. You've never felt this way before, but god, do you hope it never ends.

"I wanna feel you." He groans against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The thought of what he's suggesting makes your stomach twist. You're nervous, but you want it so bad.

"Fuck, I just want to feel your sweet little pussy squeezing the life out of me." He grunts, rutting his hips into yours.

His cock glides over your slit from the gesture, causing you to roll your hips for more friction. He lowly moans at the feeling of your warmth against his member. He pulls you further down the bed by your thighs, situating himself between your legs.

He leans over you, his palms placed by your head to hold himself up. His lips meet the side of your jaw, littering soft, wet kisses all over your skin. He does the same to your neck, before moving back up to your lips, placing several there as well.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." He whispers against your lips.

He looks at you, discerning no signs of hesitation or reluctance. One of his hands intertwine with yours as he backs onto his knees. His opposite hand grasps his member, sliding it up and down your folds, coating itself with your arousal.

Every time his tip runs over your clit, you can't help but moan at the sensation. He aligns himself with your entrance and looks up at you again. You both lock eyes, and you give him a firm nod for the reassurance he needs.

You grip his hand with one hand and the sheets with the other, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly pushes in. He fills you inch by inch, the size of him making you feel like you're being torn. You wince from the pressure, involuntarily clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan in pleasure, but he stops.

"Are you okay?" He grunts, rubbing your hip with his free hand.

You nod, "Mhm."

"Just breathe, and if you need me to stop, I will." He gently speaks, attempting to soothe you.

"Fuck, okay, just keep going." You whine, your eyes still closed.

He gives you a nod, very slowly pushing all the way in. He bites his lip, suppressing the sounds threatening to spill. He stills, letting you adjust to the new feeling.

"You good, baby?"

You open your eyes, letting out a breath. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good, you can move now."

He starts slowly pumping in and out of you, his grip on your hip tightening in hopes of controlling himself. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to power through the pain. It's more so uncomfortable than anything.

He rocks his hips into yours in a sensual manner, pulling a low moan from you as it becomes more and more pleasurable. His eyes widen at the noise, enthralled with the way you sound just for him.

"God, you're so fucking pretty." He groans, "Sound so pretty too."

More soft moans emit from your mouth at his words, taking pleasure in the way he's so gentle with you. He leans forward, capturing your lips in his. Your mouths mold together so effortlessly, like you've been doing this forever.

His thrusts quicken only slightly, still fucking into you at a gentle pace. Your head lolls to the side, soft whines falling from your lips as pleasure consumes you. The familiar feeling builds in your stomach for the second time tonight, causing you to clench around him.

"Doing so good for me." He moans, thrusting just a bit harder.

A lewd moan is pulled from your throat at the switch in his strokes. He leans back slightly, his thumb coming in contact with your clit. He begins rubbing slow, soft circles into it, causing you to tremble beneath him.

"Chris, oh my f-fuck." You cry out, your back arching.

"Feels good, no?" He smirks, soaking in the way you're reacting to him.

His pace quickens after that, causing you to let out a loud moan, "S-so good."

Your sounds are going straight to his cock, and he can't help but thrust deeper. Your hands clench around the sheet below you, your knuckles turning white once again from the tight grip.

He lifts one of your thighs, holding your leg up for better access. The tip of his delicious cock kisses your cervix, you're left writhing in overwhelming pleasure. He tosses his head back at the feeling of your spongey walls clenching around him, pulling his orgasm closer and closer.

His thumb speeds up on your clit, applying more pressure. You're practically thrashing beneath him. Your stomach tightens and you can't help but clench around him again and again. The feeling of your velvety walls contracting around him, pulls a guttural moan from his throat.

"Oh my god." You cry.

You whine out as you can't hold on anymore, giving into the knot and letting go. Pleasure takes over your body, flooding your veins with euphoria. Squelching sounds fill the room as you release all over his cock, coating his member and balls in your juices.

He looks down, groaning at the sight of your deliciousness drenching him. His hips sputter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he reaches his climax. Before he even has the chance to pull out, his load is filling you up and painting your walls a milky white.

"F-fuck." He groans, stilling his movement after riding out his high.

He looks back down at your groins, eyes widening as he realizes what he did. Slowly, he pulls out of you and watches as his cum oozes out of your pussy. The sight alone could make him cum again in an instant.

"Uh, are you on birth control?" He finally spits out.

You open your eyes, immediately raising an eyebrow at him.

He brings a hand down to your center, scooping some of your mixed fluids with two fingers. He pulls it up to show you, before slightly smirking.

"Wanna taste?"

Your eyes widen and your face is taken over with that innocent look that he loves so much. Your mouth parts as you nod, and he's instantly shoving his two fingers into your mouth. You moan at the taste, sucking every drop from his finger.

His mouth waters at the sight, immediately gripping your jaw and kissing you fiercely. He sighs into your mouth, beyond pleased with the way your night turned out.

"Whenever you need me, call me immediately." He grins in a teasing manner.

You can't help but giggle, shoving him away from you. His laugh matches yours, collapsing next to you and pulling you into him. He lovingly pecks your shoulder, his arms completely engulfing you.

"Ten minutes and we're gonna go clean up."

a/n : as lil wayne said, sorry 4 the wait. ugh god the way i need this is actually so bad for me. anywhooo, hope you little sluts enjoyed this as much as me!! lmk your opinions, and send in more requests!! xx alssooooo, credit to @flowerxbunnie for the slutty bff chris request!!!

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @mattsfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @strnlsblog @keira324 @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita

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