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[ dc friendly ] 22 y.o pervert.
Cosimo Galluzzi

Andulka
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Kiana Khansmith
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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@doviled
masterlist // reqs are open // mdni
[ dc friendly ] 22 y.o pervert.
2 posts and 2/2 bangers. đââď¸
oh shit im close
neighbour higuruma loves to watch you masturbate through your bedroom window.
the first time was an accident. higuruma had just arrived home after a long day of work, shoulders heavy and eyes barely holding themselves open. a flash of light had caught his attentionâyou, his neighbour, light bracketing you as you pass your window in nothing but a small, lacy bra. his attention caught like a fly to honey, heâd found himself a slave to his own desires as he laid witness to your nightly routine. heâd watched you pull yourself apart, and wished it was his hands putting you back together.
it quickly becomes the small pleasure that lights up his day. he feels disgusting every timeâhe knows he should tell you, knows that he should stop looking. itâs invasive in a way that makes him sick to think of others doing the same to him. youâd hate him if you knew.
he watches anyway. it rapidly integrates itself into his nightly routine. he works until the sun has dipped below the horizon. he returns home with an unending ache in his back, a throbbing pain in his fingers, an iron weight around his heart. then he sheds his coat, runs a hand through his hair, and settles down on the armchair in his living room and watches as your bedroom light highlights your silhouette.
you always look so beautiful like that. you prance around your apartment in your underwear, lit up by the warm lights you always keep on. every time you retreat to your bedroom, he feels like itâs a show just for him. you grab a toyâthis time a vibratorâand look down at it for just long enough for him to get a glimpse. when you lie down on your bed, arching your back and stretching indecently, he knocks his knees slightly wider.
youâre beautiful. you always take it so slow to start, tracing meaningless patterns around your breasts, your thighs, streaks of sensation beneath feather-light fingertips. he palms over himself idly, watching with heavy breaths. by the time you dip between your folds, fingers sliding easily, heâs hard enough to carve stone from the wait. you really know how to tease. he frees his cock from his pants as you spread your thighs wider, tracing slowly around your clit. he rubs his thumb over his cock as you arch on a gasp, fingers pressing with more pressure. when you finally bring your vibrator to your core, rubbing it where youâre sensitive, he strokes himself at a pace as steady as it is passionate; a physical means of getting off on the internal high of watching you fall apart. he comes with your name on his lips, a broken groan that tears itself from his chest.
when itâs done, he cleans himself up and watches you disappear into the shower, wishing you a quiet, guilty good night. the sickening clarity after the act almost outweighs the high of watching it. still, come the weekend, heâs out on his balcony talking to you from yours; you giggle at a joke he makes, invite him to come over, and he feigns unfamiliarity like he hasnât memorised the layout of your apartment from his nights perving through your window. when he returns home, it doesnât take long for you to pull out a dildoâit doesnât take much longer for him to notice.
(one night, youâre going to catch him looking and come harder than you have in months. heâll be so sick with guilt he avoids you for weeks. yet, every night youâll keep masturbating with your curtains open and your lights on, hoping with a blooming perversion. every night, heâll find himself watching.)
satosugu are cheating on each other with you.
you didnât set out to homewreck their relationship on both ends, really. if anyone were to ask you, it was a stroke of fateâyouâd just happened across the both of them. suguru, who approached you at a bar and bribed you to the back with a drink. who brought you to the perfect line between drunk and tipsy, giggling endlessly and listing into his side, unable to hold yourself up fully. who took off his wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand before taking you to bed. who took you apart with the skill of a man with years of experience.
years he had; after all, you woke up the next morning to his phone buzzing, a call from âloveâ blaring at you from the screen.
he winks at you as he leaves, securing a teasing promise that you wonât tell anyone. you donât. instead, you smear a kiss at his collar. you ask to see him again, and when you do, you make a game out of trying to leave evidence behindâwhen suguru pulls you back by the hair, making filthy promises to fuck you in his husbandâs bed, you moan and scratch your way down his back. when he ties you up, calling you his pretty little dove, you pull the skin of his neck into your mouth and suck until it bruises. when he gags you, telling you to be good, you whine and cry and hook your ankles around his hips, hoping this time it takes.Â
and when he finally, finally takes you home, fucking you on his bed like he promised, you just so happen to accidentally leave your g-string behind.
a week later, you see satoru while scrolling on hinge. older, beautiful, and clearly suguruâs husband. youâd seen him enough, stared down his picture while his husband fucked you in his bedroom. youâd imagined his face. daydreamed about the possibility of him walking in, of him watching you take his husband down your throat as he moaned your name.
this, you think, is better.
you match. of course you do. you start talking, you play it sweet, you act completely clueless. you have phone sex with him before suguru picks you up for another date. suguru takes you to bed, and you comfort him when he texts you about how his âroommateâ is taking a while to get home. when you finally meet, he doesnât even bother to hide his wedding ring. suguru never does, either.
satoru fucks you angry. he keeps your hands clasped in one palm as he takes you from behind, panting heavily in your ear. when you turn your head to moan, he growls low in his throat and shoves your face into the pillow, smothering your whines. he makes you cry. fucks you until heâs done, uncaring of the way you writhe against him as it borders too much.
and when itâs done, he sits there, not even looking at you. he stares down at his hands, palms up, wedding ring still on. you run a hand down his thigh, lean into his side, and ask whatâs wrong.
âi think my husband is cheating on me,â he tells you hoarsely.Â
you coo, bringing his head into the crook of your bruised neck. you run a hand down his spine, stroking your thumb back and forth. you press a kiss into his white hair. âitâs okay,â you murmur. âitâs okay. heâs notâhe couldnât be. whoâd be willing to give you up?â
he texts you again a week later. you visit suguru at work, suck him off under his desk, then wipe your mouth and meet up with satoru for lunch.
â masterlist
satosugu are cheating on each other with you.
neighbour higuruma loves to watch you masturbate through your bedroom window.