WANNA RIDE ™ 𝒞hris 𝒮turniolo ֹ⠀⠀✶ 𝕊yn : you and chris have been best friends for so long but after you see a specific photo of him , you go to sleep having a wet dream about him.
you entered your keys , opening the door into your comfy home , after a long day of running errands with your best friend chris. you and chris grew up as neighbors back in boston and from then nothing ever was able to pull you apart . through highschool and even when you wanted to go to college , your plans for the future to become a heart surgeon. you never did it , and with that everything aligned with chris , you worked together and he never left your side. chris was beside you , growing with his brothers , the fame , youtube and all that came with it , it never changed what you had.
and in such you had a quick shower,cleaning up for the days work, relaxing your body and cleaning it , choosing some cute pjs and getting into your bed. you scrolled though your instagram seeing a glimpse of chris’s new story , and god he looked good. too good .
clean shaved perfect soft skin , his jaw line so sharpened and his glasses on his head slicking back his hair just the way you like it , flannel one which you made fun of him knowing chris likes to steal them from matt.
you shut down your phone pressing on the like button with notbing to think about till you went into this deep REM. sleep , your head was springing with chris’s face , you felt how he touched you , his face between your legs , the way his tongue would dart out licking your sweet pussy all up.
his nose nudging up to tease you , your hands curling up tight ting your grip “ fuck chris” you whimpers , the older boy would lean back kissing your inner thighs “ that’s it baby ride my face” he’s praise you , as soon as he pushes his head back , you start to ride his mouth , he keeps munches , twirling his tounge around your eager sensitive buds .
he feels your oozing out your cream all over him, your can feel chris smiling cockily as he keeps moving around your pulse point urging another orgasm from you “ too much chris-“ you whimpers trying to push his head from between your thighs , chris squeezes around your thighs “ take it ma” he whispers as he winks from below you can see him on a eye level as you throw your head back , his fingers stroking your thighs moving up and down as she pushes his face deeper , your hips moving faster and faster increasing the undeniable pleasure growing ..
you reach your climax before you wake up between your thighs all wet , trembling you were sweating your ass off ,” fuck what the fuck” you groan rubbing you temple as you try to adjust to what the fuck was that? , you just had a wet dream about your own best friend? .
CW: ⓘ SMUT ٭ dom!chris ٭ sub!reader ٭ birthday sex ٭ slight darcyphillia (?) ٭ unprotected p in v ٭ hair pulling ٭ choking ٭ pet names ٭ oral (m!recieving) ٭ rawrawraw ٭ alot of dirty talking ٭ spitting ٭ cursing ٭ slapping ٭ finger sucking ٭ tummy bulge ٭ missionary ٭ etc.
P.S: english isn't my first language.
august 1st means chris' birthday, which also means that you have to do everything and anything he says for a day—but this time, he's feeling.. cocky and something unusual for his birthday. you didn't see it coming, but you're an embarrassing moaning mess underneath chris.
"yeaaah.. you got this ma, feel me? deeeep right there— m'here..—" chris groaned when he took a glance of the visible bulge in your lower belly—slamming inside you harder with powerful force now.
"fuck! c-chris, i can't—" you threw your head back and rolled your eyes as you parted your lips while chris pulled your hair to the side. "yes the fuck you can, you fuckin' slut." he rasped into your ear, voice low and rough with dominance.
"it's my birthday, remember? you don't fuckin' get to- you'll do as i fucking say." he dictated, the way he takes control with dominance is something that you secretly enjoy. you always loved being under him, always loved to be submissive for him.
chris admired of how the way his 8" cock slides in and out of your dripping pussy—of how your gummy walls clamped to his shaft like a vice. "fuuuck, y'so fuckin' tight ma, s'perfect for my birthday." he grunted.
he fastened his pace and gripped your hips roughly, ensuring to mark it up later with dark red hand prints. "..stop movin around slut." he hooked one of your legs to go even deeper.
the new position made you see stars—his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly kissing your g-spot over and over again. "ah!— too big.. so- fuuck..—" you babbled on your words, unable to form words. "m'so what, hm?" he asked,
the wet slapping of skin to skin filled his room as his thumb found contact with your parted mouth. "suck." he demanded roughly. and so, you did—your tounge swirls around the pad of his tounge while he fucks you with full power.
he felt your walls clamp harder around his thick cock, eliciting a groan from him and threw his head back. "fuckkk, this lil' pussy grips me so fuckin' well ma."
you look at him with teary eyes while your eyebrows are knitted together, sucking his thumb harder and swirling your tounge around. your free hand flew on his shoulder for support because of how hard he pounded into you, your other hand grips on the sheets for dear life.
chris fastened his pace more, ensuring that his dick dives deep into your cunt. you moaned around his thumb as he slams inside you relentlessly "your pussy is the perfect present for my birthday gorgeous. all fuckin' mine." he rasped into your ear.
"gettin' close baby? yeah?" he mocked with a cocky tone as you nodded weakly in response. "gonna fill this pretty pussy up m'kay? fuuuck..-" he grunted and moved his thumb out of your mouth, a string of saliva connects from your lips to his pad.
a pornographic moan elicited from you when his cock hits the perfect spot, making your eyes be filled with tears—not from sadness, but from a satisfied pleasure. "mhmm..shed those tears f'me baby." he grinned. with one hard final slam of his dick to your pussy, you felt the knot in your stomach snap as you moaned loudly.
your clit pulsed around his twitching dick as he stays in that position for a moment, breathing heavily and muttering a curse word under his breath. he snapped his eyes shut for a second and cracked it open again.
chris withdraws his cock out of your cunt, making you escape a soft whimper as the cold air brushed your glistening cunt from your and chris' release. "best fuckin' gift ma. fucked your hole, now it's time for the other one." he bit his bottom lip and wet it with his tounge.
oh..?
with a blink of an eye, you were already on your knees while chris looked down at you while grinning and gave his shaft a few pumps. his free hand came down on your cheek and slapped it, making you whimper. he soothes it after by rubbing it gently, then tapping your plump lips with his shaft—his precum slightly painting your lips.
"open." he demanded, you opened your mouth and sticked your tounge out. "yeaah, stick that tounge out f'me." you expected for him to shove his dick inside your mouth, but you were wrong. instead, he spat into your tounge, letting his saliva drip down.
"swallow it, slut." he demanded with rough dominance in his tone. you swallowed it down your throat and as you were about to say something, he pushes his thick cock deep inside your mouth and holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail.
your lips streched around his shaft as you looked up at him with those doe eyes of yours. he's big— hitting the back of your throat and causing you to choke. you took all of chris and deep throated him now, making him moan because of how fucking good you are at this. "fuck, you look so pretty chokin' on my cock baby." he tilted your chin up and gently wiped a tear away.
you bobbed your head up and down and hollowed your cheeks. your eyebrows knitted and a muffled moan came out from you. the vibrations of your mouth made chris groaned and threw his head back.
"sooo fuckin' good. takin' my dick like a fucking whore? damn." he grunted and fucked your face harder, his cock hits the back of your throat deeper as you moaned and whimpered. because of how this chris is, his cock blocked your airway and making you choke.
he guided your movements by pulling your hair forward and backwards. the room is filled with chris' groans and your muffled moans. "fuckk, take it like the slut you are." he bit his lip hard while looking down at you.
as you continued to deep throat him, chris got close to the edge and released hot spurts of cum on your mouth. "holy fuck.." he muttered. his release dripped down on your chin as you swallowed the salty, sticky substance. you exhaled shakily and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
"best fuckin' gift ever ma."
you stood up and sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder while breathing heavily.
"happy birthday." you weakly spoke and kissed him on the lips, letting him savour himself.
"happy birthday to me."
a/n: posted this 2 days late lmfaoo😭 so how do we like this smut version of "a special present" ??
disc: swearing, smut [ unprotected p in v, fingering, being put in a headlock, creampie lol ], being incredibly horny for your bf, bicep kink, cocky soft dom!chris, and lowk gentle brat tamer!chris.
you don’t necessarily mean stare. but the way chris looks in this very moment has you in a trance. the way his white tee sits on his frame, the fabric straining in best way around his thick arms, the way his hair curls out from under the edges of his hat, and how bright his eyes look in the sunlight makes it hard for you to look away. he looks good. unfairly so. the outfit, the stubble, the subtle cockiness and gentle confidence that he walks with is making you feel like a cat in heat.
truth be told, you absolutely mean to stare. when chris had walked out of his room wearing a white tee, slightly less baggy blue jeans, and his hat backwards like always your breath hitched in your throat. one thing caught your attention specifically and it was how snug the cuffs of his t-shirt had gotten around his biceps.
lately chris’ trips to gym and progress in gaining muscle mass has been a lot more noticeable. his chest and shoulders had broadened out even more, and his biceps were very clearly and noticeably larger. and god were you in heaven. chris picked up on your interest in his arms, chuckling every time your hand wrapped around the upper flesh, your fingers straining just slightly against his muscle as you two walked around.
you giggle to yourself as you walk over to chris, a smirk on your face and your hands hidden behind your back “innocently”. chris had stopped by the kitchen sink, rinsing out the cup he had used, and he could feel you creeping up on him.
“what’re you giggling’ about over there?” your boyfriend calls over his shoulder, the muscles in his back flexing beneath the white shirt as he dries the cup.
“nothing.” you hum as you stand beside him, your chin resting on his shoulder as he looks at you with an unimpressed expression, his eyebrow cocked.
“yeah ‘cause i totally believe ya’ kid.” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his bicep, fingers digging into the thick flesh. you feel the muscle tense and bulge beneath your palm and your smirk only deepens, you squeeze his arm just the tiniest bit before moving to jokingly bite the flesh.
“you’re insane.” chris laughs, moving his arm out of your grasp and wrapping it around your shoulders and the front of your neck, pulling you in front of him, your back flush against his chest. the movement and placement of his arm nearly around your throat has your core throbbing with desire and you can’t stop the whimper that spills from your mouth.
“oh you dirty thing, you like being choked like this, huh?” chris chuckles, the sound dark and menacing but so enticing, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. he moves his arms so that it’s pressed perfectly against the front of your throat, just barely squeezing.
“harder.” you whisper, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist and the other grabbing his bicep, squeezing tightly as you beg for him to choke you.
“like this?” he teases, slowly flexing his arm and tightening his grip around your throat, the pressure is dizzying and intoxicating. you can’t help but whine, craving more. craving the feeling of chris’ arm around your throat while burying himself deep inside you.
“need more.”
“yeah? how much more?” chris hums, grinding his hips against your ass, you can feel his cock, painfully stiff and heavy behind his jeans, the warmth radiating off the both of you is almost suffocating.
“if you don’t bend me over this counter soon, i’m gonna make you absolutely regret it.”
“you seem to forget that you don’t call the shots, sweetheart. i do and i think i’m gonna take my time until you remember your manners.” he murmurs, his voice demanding with easy control as he continues to hold you in place against while his free hand begins to wander in a downward motion from where it rested against your side. you let out a crude whine as the tips of his fingers brush beneath the waistband of your shorts, just above the top seam of your underwear and chris chuckles again.
“is that how we ask for what we want? where are your words sweet girl?” chris chastises, pushing his hand further beneath the front of your shorts, his fingers ghosting along your cunt, fingers barely touching you but leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. he can feel the heat pouring from you and he can feel your arousal seeping through the sheer material of your underwear, and god is it driving him crazy.
he smirks against the back of your head as he feels your hips buck and chase after his hand as he pulls away, knowing that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.
“c’mon baby, tell me what you want.” chris demands, his finger tracing back and forth along the hem line of your underwear, waiting for you to speak.
“chris, touch me. please.” you beg, voice broken and way beyond desperate, your body feigning for chris to touch you. you let out a sharp gasp when you feel the rough pad of your boyfriend’s calloused fingers begin to rub tight circles against your clit over the damp fabric of your thong. your throw your head back against your boyfriend, a high pitched moan falling from your lips as he keeps rubbing your bundle of nerves before pausing making you whine in detest. he uses his free hand to awkwardly yank your shorts and thong down to about mid-thigh before returning to his previous ministrations. this time using his middle and ring fingers to replace his thumb.
your hips move against his hand as if they’ve got a mind of their own and your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms and chris is preening before his reflection in the window above the sink. he’s mentally praising himself for working out consistently after seeing the way you’re all but drooling on and over his arms. he’s quick to push his fingers past the entrance of your sopping heat, quickly pistoning them in and out of you, the loud squelching and shlick shlick shlick that reverberates of the walls with each movement is music to chris’ ears. he tightens his bicep around your throat momentarily, the added sensation and restriction bringing you over the edge.
“fuck chris, i’m gonna-“ you cry out, cutting yourself off with a squeal as your walls clamp down around his fingers, your warm release coating the digits as he slows his pace, working you through your first orgasm.
“that’s it baby, let go for me.” chris murmurs against your cheek, panting softly as he drops his arm from around your throat, giving you room to breathe as he undoes his belt, quickly letting his pants and boxers pool around his ankles. his left palm wraps around his cock, fisting his length and using your cum that coated his fingers as lube as his other hand slides up your back, pressing between your shoulders and guiding you to bend over the edge of the sink.
“gotta be quick, they’ll be back soon.” chris grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sheathing himself in your cunt, your walls pulsing as they accommodate the sheer girth of your boyfriend while still relaxing from your last orgasm.
he wastes no time pulling out and thrusting back into you roughly and repeatedly, the tip of his cock rubbing against that one spot inside you that has you white-knuckling the edge of the counter, your jaw slack, and your head tipped forward, quiet and strained moans falling from your lips. chris grins from ear to ear at the sight of you falling apart so easily as you’re split open on his cock. he pulls out and leans forward, wrapping his arm around your throat yet again, and pulling you back up against, before using his other hand to guide himself back into the warmth of your cunt.
“god i love the way you feel wrapped around me like this, baby.” he pants, his cheek smushed against yours as he ruts in and out of you, you’re gasping and whining against the meaty flesh of his arm as your second orgasm begins to wash over you. chris feels your walls tighten around him and he picks up the pace.
“c’mon baby, touch yourself for me.” he guides, humming in approval as you begin languidly rubbing your clit, pushing yourself over the edge again, quickly triggering chris’ own release as you feel the warmth of his cum begin to flood inside you. chris’ body goes limp against yours for a moment as he catches his breath. the two of you are slow to pull yourselves together, silently basking in the afterglow of lust.
“when i get back, we’re gonna take a nice, long shower and then do that again because i’m nowhere near finished with this little kink of yours.” chris laughs, pulling you into a soft but possessive kiss and patting your ass as you walk away toward his room.
Chris is the type to have you riding on top of him, slow and deep at first, hands gripping your hips as he watches every expression on your face. The second he feels you start to tighten and tremble, he pulls you down into a long, hungry kiss, one strong arm locked tight around your lower back so you can’t lift off or pull away. He starts thrusting up into you hard and steady, deep strokes that drag right against that perfect spot, swallowing every shaky moan and desperate little sound against his mouth. He holds you right there, pressed flush against him, rolling his hips up into you until you’re cumming hard around him, then, and only then, does he let himself follow, burying himself deep and finishing with you still pulsing around him.
In Which.. Reader and Chris have been friends for awhile, but nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors. So when Reader sees Chris's recent IG story, it leads to Chris going down on her.
⚠︎: (Don't like it... don't read! MDNI/18+ Content, Read RESPONSIBLY!) smut, porn w plot, oral (f receiving), cum eating, fingering, beard kink?, kissing, teasing, friends with benefits, munch!chris, no pnv, influencer!reader, dirty talk, use of pet names (ma, mamas, baby), clit stimulation, slight aftercare, that's pretty much it, lmk if I missed anything!
So you and Chris are both influencers, and to the public you're seemingly just friends.
What your fans don't know, is that you're secretly fucking him.
And since he's afraid of committing to a relationship, it's remained that way.
You never complain, you and Chris are amazing friends, and anytime you need a release or the mood just hits, he comes over to your place, so his brothers aren't suspicious.
Like today for instance, today is one of your rare off days, nothing going on just bored at home, when suddenly your phone pings.
You almost ignore it, engrossed in the movie you're watching, but your curiosity gets the better of you.
As you pick up your phone, you see the notification,
christophersturniolo added a photo to their story.
When you open the story, your jaw actually drops, and you immediately squeeze your thighs together as you feel the ache.
You immediately open your text thread with him,
You
Christopher Owen… you knew what you were doing! 🤤🤤
*1 image attached*
C❤️
Yeahh Ma, and what if this is the exact reaction I wanted from you? Then what? 😏
You
Then I'd say get your ass over here, and get in-between these thighs. 😛
C❤️
Already on my way Ma
Not even 5 minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You quickly stand up from the couch, walking over to open the door.
When the door opens, he wastes no time, immediately pulling you into a kiss.
He smirks, “So you like the beard, huh Ma?” He says, walking you back towards the couch.
You nod as he pushes you to sit on the couch, watching as he kneels in front of you.
He doesn't even bother pulling your skirt off, pushing it up as he caresses your thighs.
It wasn't even planned, you had just wanted to wear something cute even if you were gonna stay at home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, smirking as he kisses up your thighs, beard scratching against your thighs.
He always did like to be a tease, and there's probably gonna be a rash from it rubbing against your thighs later, but you can't really seem to care right now.
Finally, he pulls your panties down your thighs, putting them into his back pocket.
You chuckle, and it quickly turns into a surprised noise as he puts your legs over his shoulders.
His beard scratched against the plush of your inner thighs as he wasted no time, licking a stripe through your folds, then circling your clit with his tongue.
You moan, tossing your head back against the couch, loving the feeling of his beard between your thighs.
He smirks up at you as he sucks your clit, switching between that, and flicking his tongue. “Y’like that Mama's.” He chuckles as you slap the back of his head lightly.
You shoot him a playful glare, “Ew don't call me that.” You joke, secretly loving it, but you'd never admit that.
He bites the inside of your thigh lightly in retaliation, “Yeah I know, but I love how you react to it.” He says, running his fingers through your slick like he's proving a point.
You roll your eyes, but any form of a comeback dies in your throat as he inserts his fingers in your pussy.
You moan, hands immediately moving into his hair as he starts to finger you, needing something to hold on to.
He leans back in, sucking and licking through your folds as he fingers you. He switches between that, and sucking your clit, eating like a man starved, and you're his last meal.
It doesn't take long before you get close, he never failed to have that effect on you, or maybe it's just the fact that he's amazing at it.
You moan, grips tightening in your hair. “Chris fuckk, I'm gonna cum.” You say, thighs starting to tremble.
He releases your clit with a pop, looking up at you. “Yeah baby, you close? Cum for me then.” He says, immediately diving back in to devour you.
And that's all it took, you close your eyes, moaning loud, back arching off the couch as you come undone, not waiting any longer.
You slump against the couch, but he keeps going for a minute like he's in a trance. You tap his shoulder a few times, “Chris.” You say breathlessly, getting his attention.
He sits up catching his breath, his beard glistening with your juices. “Fuck sorry Ma, got a little carried away there.” He says with a chuckle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
You chuckle breathlessly, “That good?” You ask playfully with a smirk.
He raises an eyebrow, “What do you think?” He asks, gesturing down to the bulge in his jeans, completely unapologetic about it, not embarrassed at all.
You burst into giggles, and he joins you.
It's always like this after, no awkwardness, just immediately back to friends right after something sexual, that's just how you both were.
After you both got cleaned up, Chris had to go, so he could film with his brothers. You didn't mind because this is just how it went, sometimes it would be fuck and leave, others he would stay, and hangout.
𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯 ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔰: @/andromeda-graphics
𝔄/𝔑: Tysm Abbs for helping me with the plot! I usually just do established relationship, but she suggested I do this, so tysm bestie! @chrattsfavlesbian and HUGE thank you to M for helping with the title! @/inkedsturnioloss (sorry, I'm at max tags, but you're on the taglist sooo ILYY bestie!) I hope y'all like this cause after I saw this pic, I HADD to make a fic for it! And, as always, if y'all have any reqs or asks, plsplspls lmk! 🫶🏻🫶🏻
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ---› smut ⋆ exes to something more ⋆ reconciling (kinda) ⋆ sex under the influence (full consent from both parties) ⋆ missionary ⋆ fluff + more.
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ---› 𝟐.𝟐 𝒌
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ---› this is dedicated to both @hauntedhouseofhorrors & @ariestrxsh ’cause my dumbass is taking sooooo long to finish the fics i promised to write for you guys and i feel bad 😭 (also, i don’t even know what the fuck is going on in this i must’ve written it while drunk (i don’t drink), i gave up on proofreading so good luck to those who decide to read the whole thing)
𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ---› english is not my first language!
inspired by chris’ photo dump (i think that’s quite obvious).
You’d been dragged to a stupid house party by your friends. They told you one night out wouldn’t kill you. And maybe they’re right. You do need to get yourself out and about more often.
As you stand there holding a solo cup, already a little heated from whatever concoction one of your friends created for you, your eyes catch something that makes your breath hitch.
On the other side of the room stands your ex boyfriend, Christopher Sturniolo. That easy grin on his lips, chatting with his friends and occasionally sipping from his own solo cup. He’s clad in a black t-shirt and black jorts. A pink gingham hat is sitting backwards on his head, partially hiding his soft brown curls that you used to love carding your finger through.
You’re so shocked to see him again—and at a party like this nonetheless—that you don’t even notice the girl clinging to him. Not that you care if he’s with a new girl anyway; He’s always with a new girl.
As if sensing a pair of eyes on him, Chris’s eyes find yours in the crowd of sweaty bodies, his lips curling up further at catching you watching him. His amusement grows when you look away, pretending like that brief eye contact didn’t just make you feel a flutter in your stomach.
He excuses himself from his friends and the girl clinging to him, leaving her sulking beside his buddies, and begins walking towards you. The smugness on his face as he navigates through the sea of people isn’t lost on you.
He knows exactly how much he affects you.
And that’s the worst part.
"Hey..." He says when he’s close enough, and tilts his head to catch your eyes. "Didn’t expect you to see you here."
"You have some audacity talking to me, Christopher." Your jaw clenches. The sarcasm bubbles off you—a defense mechanism that Chris knows all too well.
"C’mon... Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it-"
"What are you trying to do?"
Chris blinks as you cut him off. Then laughs—a loud, amused laugh that grates on your nerves. "Jesus, I’m not trynna do anything. I’m just saying hi to my favorite ex."
"Well, you’ve said your hi. I think you should go back to your friends now." You try to dismiss him, but he’s like a pest, unwilling to leave.
"Don’t be like this-"
"Jesus Christ Chris!" You snap. “Why are you even talking to me?”
He shrugs casually, not at all bothered by your frustration. "Because I’m bored."
"Then go home," you say sharply, before adding sarcastically, "you looked like you were having enough fun."
Chris smirks—that annoying, shit-eating smirk—the kind that tells you enough how smug he’s becoming. "Jealous about it? You jealous?"
You roll your eyes so hard you think it might get stuck that way, and decide to ignore his dumbass instead of entertaining him further. Turning on your heels, you begin to make your way towards the hallway where it’s quieter. Hoping Chris would get the message and leave you alone.
But of course, the fucker follows after you like a puppy, giggling under his breath like the sight of you fuming is oh-so-entertaining.
You finally stop in your tracks and turn around so sharply you almost get a whiplash and Chris almost runs into you.
He raises his eyebrows as he looks you up and down shamelessly. "Why’d you stop?" He asks casually, like he doesn’t notice how much he’s been annoying you in the mere 5 minutes he’s interacted with you.
"Why? You’re really asking me why, Chris?" You ask incredulously. "You’ve been following me like some brainless meat puppet for the past few minutes. It’s fucking pissing me off."
Chris leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate sound. "Maybe if you’d just talk to me like I’m not a nuisance, I wouldn’t keep annoying you."
His hand reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but you glare at him. Which makes him chuckle and retreat his hand, tucking it into his pocket instead.
"You’re really good at acting like you hate me.” Chris murmurs, his voice barely audible over the faint thumping of the bass from the music blasting in the main room.
"I know you’re not over me. Or us." Something shifts in his expression. Something raw he’s been hiding behind that casual grin.
"Chris-"
"Don’t shut me out again. I just want to talk... Please?"
The way he was looking at you now—softer, less cocky, almost desperate—breaks down your defenses much quicker than he thought it would.
Your expression softens against your will and you find yourself nodding slowly, sighing as you mumble out an agreement. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll talk.”
Buuut you knew in the back of your mind that it would never end with just talking when it comes to Chris.
Especially when he’s got you in his own house instead of the party you were both at.
He always knew exactly how to talk you through it. Make you beg for him before he’s even touched you.
And this time isn’t any different. You had folded before he’d even suggested anything. Climbing onto his lap and making out with him like before everything fell apart and you pretended to hate him to avoid getting heartbroken again.
Chris’s hands on your hips tightens ever so slightly as you grind your hips against his slowly. His breath hitches against your lips, feeling how warm your core is even through your clothes. His hips shift slightly, pushing his boner harder against your core and coaxing out a soft, breathy moan from you.
His hands roam over your body as the kiss deepens, trailing across your figure with such reverence you almost think he’d take things slow.
But the next second, you’re flipped under him, your gasp getting caught in your throat as you stare up at the brunette man who’d once been your person. He’s already taking off his hat before your brain can fully catch onto the position you’re in and how much you’ve missed being under him.
His t-shirt follows next, getting tossed to the floor on one side of his bed. The sight of him shirtless makes your stomach flip and you know that you’re probably staring at him so shamelessly. He looks a lot buffer than the last time you’ve seen him shirtless.
He must be hitting the gym a lot lately huh…
"You know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." Chris suddenly says, pulling back ever so slightly to look at you better. "I don’t want to force you into anything."
You blink, your head becoming much clearer as the slight concern in his words register. You must’ve looked like you were having second thoughts about whatever was about to happen. But that wasn’t it. Why is he not getting it? That you’re so overwhelmed with so many different emotions at seeing him like this again to even get in your head.
You were too busy checking him out to worry about anything else. And he needs to know that that’s the reason why you looked zoned out.
Your hands slowly reach out to cup his face, his skin warm against your palms. He goes stiff at first, not expecting the gentleness, before he melts into it. Eyes fluttering closed as he lets out a soft sigh, shoulders relaxing.
"I want this too. I promise." You whisper. "I just… feel overwhelmed."
You’re not sure if you should admit to it, but seeing the way he was hanging onto your every word eased some of the nerves.
"I missed this is all."
His expression softens further and his lips curl into a soft smile—one that makes your heart squeeze tightly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I did too." He admits softly, leaning down to kiss you again.
"We’ll take it slow." Is what he said.
But when his tip breached your entrance after the foreplay, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
His hips rock slowly, gritting his teeth as he tries not to pound his fat cock into you over and over again. It’s also been such a long time since you two have had sex, and truthfully you haven’t fucked anyone since him, but you’d never admit to it.
Chris groans, his cock throbbing painfully inside your warm, wet walls that are currently squeezing the life out of him as if it wants to drain his balls. He doesn’t remember you being this fucking tight. He knows he’s big, but you always took him so well before.
His hips halt to a stop the moment he hears the little wince when he pushes a little harder. His eyes immediately search your face for any discomfort. "Fuck, you okay? Hurts?" He’s already beginning to pull out as he says so, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist tight enough for him to sink balls deep inside you.
Both of you gasp loudly at the sensation. You feel filled to the brim. The stretch is painful—but deliciously so. It feels like he’s all up in your guts, so deep that his tip is pressing insistently against your cervix like it wants to push past it.
Chris on the other hand almost nuts inside you at the sudden soft tightness of your pussy squeezing around him like a velvet vice. He has to go completely still and try to breathe through the pleasure to prevent himself from ejaculating prematurely.
It doesn’t help him one bit when your inner muscles begin to flutter and contract around him to accommodate his size.
It takes a few long minutes for the both of you to adjust to the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses. And when Chris begins moving, he forgets all about going slow. He pulls back almost completely before slamming back home.
The sheer intensity of his thrust has you jolting up the bed, which he prevents by caging your head in with his forearms when he repeats the same motion that has you clinging to him.
Your nails dig into his back as the wind gets knocked out of your lungs each time his hips collide with yours. You can barely moan properly as the pleasure blooming up your core threatens to overwhelm you completely.
His thrusts soon turn shallow but deep. Though his pace and how hard he was fucking you didn’t change at all. His breath catches against your neck where he has his face buried, sucking and biting at your neck and shoulder like he just can’t get enough of you. Like he’s starving and you just happen to be the most delicious thing he’s tasted.
Your eyes roll back when he eases his pace but begins grinding his hips against yours in a circular motion whenever he bottoms out. His pubic bone provides such delicious friction against your clit. So much so it has your jaw going slack and pussy clenching around him tight enough for him to hiss in pleasure.
Chris knows he’s doing everything right when he hears the change in your tone and the way you’re clinging to him more than before. He knows you’re close already. But he decides to drag it out, changing his pace to one drastically slower than before.
"Chris," you whine breathily, swallowing thickly as you try to move your hips on his dick. "Don’t stop."
Chris chuckles, a low, rough sound as he keeps moving his hips slowly, dragging his hefty length along your quivering walls. "I haven’t stopped though, have I?" He questions cruelly, keeping you right on the edge without letting you tip over.
"Please, faster," you beg. "I’m so close… fuck, Chris—i’m so close-"
Hearing you beg like that finally snaps what little composure he was holding onto and he decides to give you exactly what you’re begging for.
You can barely keep your volume down when he begins to pound you into his bed. The coils in your stomach grow more and more taut with each thrust and you’re not sure if you can even handle the pleasure.
"Fuck—ngh-ahh—can feel you squeezin’ me. Oh, fuuck–" Chris moans low in his throat, his rhythm faltering by a fraction before he’s fucking even harder than before.
Warmth begins to flood through your entire body, starting from your core, before you can even warn Chris that you’re cumming. You cry out as your body arches under Chris’s, pussy milking his cock greedily. Pleasure overtakes your mind for a few earth-shattering seconds as you drown in the sensations created by your orgasm.
Chris follows soon after with a low, outdrawn moan against your neck, his hips stuttering against yours as he fills you full of his warm cum.
He keeps moving slowly, panting softly as he lifts his head up to stare at the post-coital glow on your face.
God, he adores how soft and sated you look after sex.
You feel his lips on yours before you can even catch your breath, let alone think about what this whole ordeal means to your status as exes.
Maybe you’ll leave the thinking for later.
“You felt fucking amazing…” Chris whispers against your lips, one of his hands easing down to caress your waist and hip. “Think you can go ‘nother round? Wanna taste you next.”
Yeah… you’ll definitely leave the thinking for later.
you'd given up on looking presentable hours ago, a pair of ridiculously short denim shorts, and an old white tank top, were about as much clothing as you were willing to tolerate in this weather. stretched across your bed on your stomach, your phone balanced lazily in your hand, you mindlessly scroll through tiktok, only half paying attention to whatever was on your screen. the bathroom door click open and you hear chris coming back to the room, throwing himself onto the mattress beside you with enough force to make the whole bed bounce. then his hand lands against your ass in a quick, obnoxiously casual smack.
you blink, looking up and slowly turning your head to him, the corner of his mouth twitching as he innocently stares at the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head.
"do it again and i'll cut your hand off," you say. he glances over at you, looking you dead in the eyes for about three seconds, before his hand reaches out again, giving your other ass cheek another firm smack, harder this time. "fuck, ow, chris!" you immediately shove your phone aside, one hand flying to the sore spot as you scoot farther away across the mattress. you rub your ass with an offended grimace, shooting him the most unimpressed look you can manage.
"could've as well just wear nothin'," he says, fingers curling around the waistband of your shorts, pulling you closer. then his hand moves to your butt again, squeezing the flesh, massaging and giving it another sharp smack. you slap his hand away, feeling a wave of heat rushing over you, skin burning.
"i'm gonna beat the shit out of you—"
"y'like it, stop complainin'," he mutters, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "i see the way your thighs squeeze together everytime i do it. made me think how wet it'd make ya, if i keep goin'."
you blink, staring at him in disbelief, ready to throw another insult his way, but your mouth betrays you for half a second. because as irritating as he is, as much as you want to wipe that smug grin off his face, the confidence in his voice settles somewhere deep beneath your skin. it shouldn’t. you hate that it does. "you're a freak," you huff.
he sprawls back on your bed, hands behind his head, watching you with that infuriating grin. the way you avoid his gaze tells him everything he needs to know. "maybe i am," he concedes, his voice casual, eyes flicking down to your ass, lingering on the way your shorts ride up, before meeting your gaze again. "red cheeks suit ya."
you scoff again, stomach twisting. "you're sick if you think i'd let you do that."
chris smirks, knowing you're bluffing. your body language gives you away. your shoulders are slightly tensed, cheeks flushed, and there's a spark in your eyes that wasn't there before.
"oh yeah?"
the eighth smack makes you gasp, the stinging heat radiating through your ass. your hands shake as you try to keep your composure, your pussy soaking, the wetness dripping onto his thighs. he has you bent over his lap, your tiny shorts pushed down along with your panties, his handprint blooming on your skin.
"...nine...— fuck—" you manage, voice unsteady. you hate how much you're enjoying it. how his hand comes back harder each time, making your needy cunt throb right in front of his eyes as he's making you count.
"look at that," he spreads your pussy lips, watching as another slick drop drips down. "what was that again? i'm a freak? did you ever see y'self?"
the tenth smack lands harder than the rest, making you cry out, pussy clenching around air. "fuckin' drippin' all over me," he mutters, his other hand reaching down to press two fingers against your throbbing clit. he circles it roughly, making you buck against his lap. "this one's for always talkin' back," he says, before bringing his hand down hard on your reddened ass. "keep countin', ma."
"f-fuck... don't tell me...—"
"...what to do?" he cuts you off and chuckles, voice low. "heard that so many times from ya..." his next slap is right against your pussy, making you jump and moan loudly. his cock twitches at the sound and he rubs his palm against your entrance, spreading your juices around, before giving you another sharp slap right on your clit. "naughty girl.... think i can make ya cum jus' with this?"
you whine instead of replying, which he clearly doesn't like, because his hand finds its way to your skin again. "answer me," he demands, spanking your cunt, the wet slap echoing. you arch against him, letting out a strangled moan.
"i don't.... i don't know..."
"you don't know?" he scoffs. "too bad. gonna figure it out then."
chris loses count, his hand moving in a blur, spanking anything he could reach. your butt, your pussy, your thighs. your skin felt like on fire, red and marked with his handprints. he's never heard you being this loud before, which only spurrs him on, your legs shaking, pussy dripping more than ever.
"that's what you get for bein' a mouthy lil' brat," he growls, landing another slap. "gonna admit i was right? that you're lovin' this shit?"
you only whine in response, so he dips his finger in your cunt, spreading the slickness around it. "don'tcha feel it? and you wanna keep actin' like you don't enjoy it?" another slap. "so admit it." and another. "admit i was right."
"f-fuck— i... you were right, fuck— oh! holyyyy shit...." you can't stop the sounds escaping your lips when he lands another smack.
"oh, what's that, hm?" he asks mockingly, watching your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for friction. he slides his fingers down, two pushing into your wet heat while his thumb presses against your clit. he starts pumping his fingers in and out, mimicking the rhythm of his spanks. "almost came without a permission, huh? we're not doin' that here. you gotta ask nicely first."
you barely hold back that big, loud 'fuck off' that wanted to roll off your tongue, but the desperation and neediness to finish was too huge to keep being a smartass. so instead, you muttered quietly, "please."
he curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside you, his other hand slapping your ass cheek again. "couldn't hear ya. don't be shy, say it with your chest. beg properly."
"please," you cry out, eyes squeezing shut, sweat beading on your forehead.
"please what?"
"please, i wanna cum, dammit—" you cry out, his fingers moving faster, your butt getting spanked one more time.
"count to ten then," he mutters. "only then you can cum. if you stop or skip a number, or come too early, you start over from one again. but if you're a good girl f'me and you behave, maybe then i'll finally fuck you properly," he orders, his fingers pumping relentlessly inside you, curling on every thrust. "go."
you start counting, careful not to fuck it up, your pussy milking his fingers and clenching like a vice. "...six.... seven...."
you feel like you're about to break, clit pulsing painfully, another smack making you sob, followed by a moan of his name. "....eight...."
another slap.
"....nine...."
and another.
"....ten— oh fuck!"
you finally let go, his fingers curling deep inside you, thumb pressing hard on your clit as you come. your pussy gushes around his fingers, wetness soaking them and his shorts. you're moaning loudly, completely undone, ass bright red and marked. chris holds you through it, murmuring dirty praise. "there ya go...that's a good girl."
he pulls his fingers out, patting your thigh. "get off me. gotta make sure you'll remember what's gonna be happenin' from now on, every time you decide to be a smartass. want ya ass up face down, now."
The bass thrummed through the floorboards, vibrating up through your soles. Red solo cups littered every surface. Laughter and shouted conversations tangled into one loud, pulsing noise.
You were pressed against the arm of the couch, Matt's arm looped loosely around your waist. He was telling you about some new update to his favorite game, his voice warm and familiar. His thumb traced absent patterns on your hip. Sweet. Comfortable.
You loved him. You did.
But sometimes comfort felt a lot like boredom.
Your gaze drifted across the room, scanning past familiar faces, until it snagged on Chris. He was slouched against the kitchen doorway, beer bottle dangling lazily from his fingers. His eyes weren't on the party. They were on you. Dark. Focused. Unreadable.
Matt kept talking. Chris kept staring.
Then Chris tipped his bottle toward the hallway. A small, deliberate motion. The bathroom.
Your stomach flipped.
You should've ignored it. You should've turned back to Matt, kissed his cheek, and pretended you hadn't seen.
But Chris was already pushing off the doorframe and disappearing down the hall. And your feet were moving before your brain caught up.
The bathroom was small. Cramped. The flickering light above the mirror buzzed softly.
Chris was leaning against the counter when you slipped inside and clicked the lock. He didn't say anything at first. Just watched you with that lazy, knowing smirk.
"Your boyfriend's a lame," he said finally, voice low. "Standing out there talking about nothing while you're in here with me."
"He's not—"
"Yeah, he is." Chris pushed off the counter, crossing the space in two steps. His body crowded yours against the door, one hand bracing beside your head. "That's why you followed me."
His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt. He didn't ask. He just pushed the fabric up, bunching it around your hips.
"Bet he doesn't even know what you like," Chris murmured, dropping to his knees in front of you. "Bet he's never even made you cum."
Your breath caught as his fingers found the damp spot on your panties. He dragged one finger through the fabric, slow, deliberate.
"This all for me?" He looked up at you through his lashes, that smug smirk playing on his lips. "Soaked through your panties and I haven't even touched you yet."
"Chris—"
"Answer me." His finger pressed harder, circling your clit through the thin material. "This all for me? Or does Matt get you this wet too?"
"Just—just you," you breathed.
"Didn't think so."
He hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs. He didn't bother taking them all the way off—just let them hang around your ankles, trapping you there.
"Spread your legs."
You obeyed, widening your stance as much as the fabric allowed.
Chris's fingers found your folds, parting them slowly. He dragged two fingers through your slickness, gathering it, then held them up where you could see.
"Look at that," he said, almost awed. "Fucking dripping for me. Your boyfriend's right outside and you're this wet for his brother."
His fingers went back to your cunt, pushing inside without warning. Two of them, thick and long, stretching you.
"Feel that?" He curled them, finding that spot inside you that made your knees buckle. "Feel how deep my fingers are? Imagine what my cock's gonna feel like."
You whimpered, head falling back against the door.
He worked his fingers in and out, slow and deep, his thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips started moving, chasing the rhythm.
"Look at you," he said, almost disappointed. "That desperate already? Pathetic."
His fingers slid out and he stood, towering over you. He unbuckled his belt, let his jeans fall just enough. His cock sprung free, thick and heavy, the head already glistening.
You swallowed hard.
"See something you want?" He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking lazily, showing off. "You ever seen anything this big before?"
You shook your head, eyes fixed on him.
"Didn't think so." He stepped closer, pressing the head against your entrance. Not pushing in. Just letting you feel the size of it, the stretch that was coming. "Matt got a dick like this?"
"No."
"Didn't think so." He dragged the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. "He couldn't fill you up like I can. Couldn't fuck you stupid."
He pushed in. Just the tip. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders.
"Too much?" He didn't sound concerned. He sounded amused. "That's just the tip, baby. And you're already struggling."
He pushed deeper, inch by inch, letting you feel every bit of him. Your walls stretched around him, burning and full.
"Fuck—Chris—"
"Shh." He pressed his palm over your mouth. "You wanna get caught? Want Matt to walk in and see his girlfriend stuffed full of my cock?"
You shook your head frantically.
"Then shut up."
He bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. You felt impossibly full, stretched to your limit, his cock reaching places inside you that you didn't know existed.
"Look at that," he breathed, glancing down at where you were joined. "Taking all of me. Even though I'm too big for you."
He pulled out slow, then slammed back in. Your whole body jolted.
"This what you needed?" He set a brutal pace, each thrust pushing you up against the door. "Your boyfriend can't fuck you like this. He's too soft. Too sweet. Bet he's gentle with you."
He drove into you harder, knocking the air from your lungs.
Your eyes were rolling back. You couldn't form words anymore, just wet, broken sounds against his palm.
"Fuck, you're useless now, aren't you?" He laughed, breathless and mean. "Look at you. Pretty little thing, can't even speak."
His free hand found your chin, forcing you to look down at where you were connected. You could see him moving in and out of you, see how stretched you were around him.
"See that?" His thumb traced where you were joined, feeling the stretch. "You're taking every inch. Like the slut you are"
He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. "Somebody likes being called names," he observed, smirking. "Gonna cum for me? Gonna soak my cock while your boyfriend's in the hall?" he cooed softly.
You nodded frantically against his hand.
"Let go f’me baby.."
His thumb found your clit, pressing hard, circling fast. His hips never stopped, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside you.
You shattered. Your whole body seized, clamping down on him, a muffled scream swallowed by his hand. Your vision went white, your knees giving out.
Chris caught you, holding you up, and kept fucking you through it. "That's it. Good girl. Take it. Take all of it."
His rhythm stuttered, his hips slamming into you one last time as he buried himself deep. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and thick, filling you up.
He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, his forehead against yours.
Then he pulled out slow, watching his cum drip out of you.
"Look at that," he murmured, almost to himself. "Making a mess."
He tucked himself away, smoothed down his shirt. You were still slumped against the door, legs shaking, panties around your ankles.
Chris grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed it at you. "Clean yourself up. You're leaking."
Your hands were trembling so badly you could barely manage it.
He watched you with that smug smirk, arms crossed. "Don't forget—I'm the better brother. And now you know why."
He unlocked the door, slipping out into the hallway like nothing happened.
You fixed your skirt. Splashed water on your face. Took three deep breaths.
When you walked back into the living room, Matt was in the same spot, scrolling on his phone.
"Hey," he said, smiling. "Feeling okay?"
"Yeah." You sat beside him, legs pressed together. "Just needed some air."
He kissed your forehead.
Across the room, Chris caught your eye. He mouthed something—stupid—and raised his beer in a toast.
You looked away first.
Your thighs were still wet. You were still full of him.
And you knew your boyfriend was a lame. And Chris had definitely fucked your brains out.
the one where chris, the duke, has you, his wife's lady-in-waiting and his mistress, face the consequences for misbehaving (6.1K words)
Contains: smut, porn with slight plot, infidelity/secret affair, brat taming, power imbalance, rough handling, possessiveness, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, slight breath play, tearing of clothes, breast/nipple play, fingering, clit play, oral (m receiving), face fucking, tit-fucking, rough sex, overstim, unprotected piv, creampie, aftercare(?), dom!duke brat tamer!chris x sub!fem mistress(brat)!reader
based on this request
The afternoon sun bled gold across the terrace, catching on the rim of porcelain cups and the silver thread embroidered into the duchess's sleeves. She sat at the center of the picnic spread like a painting come to life, back straight and her smile soft, with one hand resting on her husband's arm as she leaned into him on the cushion-lined bench.
I stood a few paces back near the tea cart, and I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
The duke, Christopher, or Chris for short, as his wife called him, looked comfortable in a way he rarely did in court. His doublet was unlaced at the throat, his boots kicked out before him, and he was watching his wife with an expression that made the ladies-in-waiting exchange knowing glances amongst each other. He watched her with such soft devotion, it could’ve fooled anyone… but not me.
As for myself, I poured myself more tea and didn’t bother to look at them. I didn't need to. I could feel the warmth of their domestic tableau at the edge of my vision, such as the way his thumb traced circles on his wife’s wrist, and the way she leaned into him like a flower turning towards the sun. It was sickening to look at.
Chris lifted a grape from the bowl between them to feed her, and she took it between her teeth and laughed softly. "Five years, darling." she said, her voice carrying that particular lilt she used when she was being earnest. "Five years since I married you, and I would wed you again if I could in a single heartbeat."
I lifted my teacup, taking a slow sip, and let the moment sit on my tongue like something sour.
Five years. And unbeknownst to her, I had been in his bed for three of them.
It started the summer the duchess went to visit her family. I remembered the heat of that day still, the way the air hung thick with hay dust, and the way Chris’ hands shook when he backed me into the stable loft. He had been looking at me for months by then. With the kind of look that made my skin prickle every time we made eye contact. And the kind that made me start wearing my bodice just a little looser, just to see if he would break.
That afternoon in the hay loft, he did not ask. He just pushed up my skirts, yanked down my stays, and fucked me into the straw until I couldn’t walk straight. His hand was clamped over my mouth so the stable boys wouldn’t hear, while his teeth sank into my shoulder, biting down to keep himself quiet when he came.
I remembered the way I had smiled in the dark afterwards, half-buried in hay, knowing he had chosen me over the empty bed waiting for him in the manor.
There had been other times too. The night of the autumn ball, when the duchess had retired early with a headache and Chris found me in the library. He had me bent over the desk, and took me while the music from the great hall drifted through the windows. I remembered staring at the spines of his books as he moved behind me, counting the gold lettering, and feeling nothing but triumph. I had been the one he came to find. Not her. But me.
There was another occurrence during a hunting trip last spring, when his party had ridden out at dawn. Chris returned earlier than expected while the others were still chasing stag through the eastern woods. He found me in my bedchamber, still in my nightdress, with the sheets tangled from a restless morning. He didn’t bother asking why I wasn’t dressed. He simply crossed the room, pushed me back onto the mattress, and fucked me into the pillows with the curtains half-drawn and the afternoon light slicing through the cracks.
I remembered the way he breathed my name when he finished, ragged and undone, and the way I smirked against his shoulder because I knew exactly what I had done. I had pulled him away from his hunt, from his duty, and from the life he was supposed to be living. And I relished every moment of it.
Now, in the garden, he sat beside her with that attentive expression. I watched the way his thumb traced the inside of her wrist, and the way he leaned towards her when she spoke. I knew that hand. I knew the weight of it on my throat in the dark, and the bite of his fingers in my hip when he forgot himself. The duchess saw a devoted husband. I saw the man who marked my skin at night and then sat across from his wife at breakfast as if I didn’t exist.
He lifted another grape. The duchess took it from his fingers with a soft laugh.
She didn’t know the things I had done with that hand, or the things I had done for him while on my knees. She was unaware of the sounds he made when his wife was asleep and he slipped through my door instead. And that knowledge sat in my chest like a held breath.
But today, the air between us felt wrong. I felt it in the way Chris wouldn’t look at me, not once, or even spare a glance my way. His eyes stayed fixed on his wife as if I didn’t exist. But his jaw was tighter than it should’ve been and his shoulders squared.
It was definitely because I was standing a few feet away. And he was simply refusing to acknowledge it.
I stepped forward to refresh the duchess’s tea. The pot was hot in my hands, and my grip was steady.
"Allow me, Your Grace."
The stream was smooth and amber, perfect, until I let my wrist tilt just a fraction too far. A thin ribbon of tea spilled over the rim and ran across the tablecloth, soaking the edge of a linen napkin.
"Oh! Forgive me." My voice came out silk, shot through with just enough dismay to pass. "How clumsy of me."
The duchess waved it off with a patient smile. "It’s nothing. Only tea."
She didn’t flinch or suspect anything ill. She simply dabbed at the spot with her napkin and turned back to Chris, reaching for his hand again.
I should’ve stopped there. I knew I should’ve.
But she was looking at Chris with those wide, trusting eyes, and he was looking at her like she was the only woman who had ever mattered. And all while I had been warming his bed for three years, pouring her tea and lacing up her gowns, and standing in plain sight while she smiled at me, having no idea what I had done with her husband the night before.
"Five years." I spoke up, my voice cutting through her reverie like a blade through silk. "Truly remarkable. Most husbands lose interest by year two."
The words landed like a stone dropped into still water.
The footman at the edge of the terrace froze midstep, and a lady seated on a chair nearby with her embroidery went perfectly still. The duchess's hand stopped halfway to her mouth, and she blinked at me as if I had spoken in a language she didn’t understand.
But Chris, he set down his teacup with a soft clink that somehow commanded the entire table.
His sharp blue eyes met mine for the first time all afternoon, and they didn’t seem warm anymore. They were winter and stone, which made my stomach clench even as my chin lifted. He held my gaze for a long moment, long enough for the heat to creep up my neck, and definitely long enough for me to realize I may have pushed too far.
"That will be all." he said, his voice commanding and perfectly even. A tone he used when there were witnesses, and when he was too controlled to show a crack.
But I knew him. I knew the flatness in his eyes was a storm waiting to break.
The duchess looked between us, something flickering across her face. Confusion, perhaps. Or the first whisper of suspicion. She smoothed her skirts and offered me a small, uncertain smile, as if she wasn’t sure whether to scold me or comfort me.
"She’s only teasing, dear. She didn’t mean anything by it."
Of course, she was defending her lady-in-waiting. The wife was defending me to her husband, and the irony was so sharp I almost laughed.
But Chris didn’t look away from me. "I said, that will be all." His words were final, like a door slamming shut.
I dipped the shallowest curtsy the duchess would accept, gathered my skirts, and turned around. The walk across the terrace felt longer than it should’ve. But throughout, I felt the duke’s gaze on my back like a hand, like a brand, and most definitely like a promise.
The sun would soon set in a few hours, and I knew he would come find me then.
Later at nightfall, in my bedchamber, candlelight pooled on the vanity glass as I watched my own hands move through my hair. The hairbrush was silver, heavy and cool against my palm, as I drew it through the damp strands in long, measured strokes.
I hummed as I worked, a melodic tune that I had heard the musicians play at dinner. It curled through the quiet room, wrapping itself around the scent of lavender soap and the candle's slow burn. I liked the sound of my own voice in the stillness, and the way the melody filled the space, making the room feel less empty.
The afternoon was still sharp behind my ribs. I recalled the way Chris had looked at me from across the tea table. How his jaw had tightened when I spoke out of turn, and the way he had dismissed me in that clipped tone.
But I had seen the cracks in his demeanour, such as the flicker in his eyes before he looked away. He had been holding himself still, holding himself back, and I had known it even as I turned and walked away.
Chris surely watched me leave. I had felt his gaze on my back like a hand pressed flat between my shoulder blades.
I set the hairbrush down and leaned closer towards the mirror. The woman looking back at me had sharp edges. Her jaw cut clean, and her lips pink and full. Her eyes were dark and steady, holding the kind of heat that made men forget where they were. I tilted my chin, and watched the hollow at the base of my throat catch the light. The nightgown's neckline was cut low, the silk barely grazing my nipples, where I could see the shape of them through the fabric, round and taut.
On the contrary, the duchess had a softness to her. A gentleness that suited the role of a duke's wife. But she didn’t have this. She didn’t have cheekbones that caught candlelight like blades, or a mouth that promised trouble. She didn’t have the kind of body that made men forget their vows.
However, I did.
My humming resumed, softer now, almost a whisper against my lips. I picked up the hairbrush again and drew it through my hair, letting the rhythm carry me. A certain kind of warmth started to settle in my belly.
I knew he would come.
And as expected, the series of knocks came, in three short raps.
My hand stopped mid-stroke. My eyes shifted towards the reflection of the door in the mirror, and I watched the slow bloom of my own smile. I set the hairbrush down, rose from the stool, and crossed the room in silence. The silk whispered against my skin, across my stomach, and over the curve of my hips. My bare feet padded across the floorboards, until I stopped in front of the door.
I pressed my palm flat against the old wood. I could almost feel Chris’ presence on the other side. But I didn’t open it just yet.
Instead, I let the silence stretch. I wanted him to wait, and let him wonder if tonight would be the night I finally refused him. I wanted him to feel the edge of that possibility.
Another knock came, and this time it was harder and louder.
A low voice came through the wood. "Open the door." It was Chris’ voice, roughened at the edges. The same tone he used when he had stopped pretending.
I finally turned the latch to unlock the door. The door swung open, and there he stood in the candlelight with his face half in shadow. His collar was unlaced, leaving his throat bare, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows.
His cold blue eyes found mine, then dropped to my mouth, and then descended lower. The air between us suddenly went still and thick.
"Your Grace." I greeted, my lips curving into a knowing smile. "I was wondering when you would come."
Chris stepped forward without a word, and I stepped back to let him in. The door swung shut behind him with a heavy thud, making my body thrum in anticipation.
At first, I didn’t move. I let the triumphed smile spread slowly across my lips, letting him see it in the candlelight. The satisfaction and the knowledge that I had been right, once again.
He stood with his back to the door, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm he was trying very hard to control. His arms hung at his sides, with his fists clenched, his jaw set, and his eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. The shadows carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, and I could see the pulse in his throat, ticking fast.
"You know," I spoke up, breaking the silence. "I knew you would come."
"You embarrassed me today." he said.
"I embarrassed you?" I let the words sit on my tongue, tasting them. "I made a comment at a tea party. You have had me bent over tables and taken me in the dark while your wife slept three rooms away, and I embarrassed you."
His expression flickered. Cracked, just at the edges. "That is different."
"Is it?"
"You know it is."
I laughed. The sound was sharp and hollow, and it bounced off the walls, and I watched him flinch at it.
"I know nothing of the sort, Your Grace. You have had me for three years. In the stables, in the library, in my bed, in yours, and even against the wall of the stillroom while the servants slept overhead. You have marked me in ways I cannot wash off. And today you sat beside your wife and fed her fruit and pretended I did not exist!"
Chris crossed the room before I finished speaking.
His hands caught my arms, gripping them hard enough to bruise, and then he pushed me backwards until my shoulders hit the wall. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. His body pressed into mine, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of my nightgown, and his mouth was a breath from my ear.
"You think I don’t know what I have done to you?" His voice was rough now, frayed at the edges, the voice he used when the duke was gone and only Chris remained. "You think I don’t carry it?"
"Then carry it louder." I said.
His hand came up to my throat. Not squeezing, just resting there. His palm was flat against my pulse that was hammering beneath my skin, as his fingers curled around the curve of my neck. He could surely feel it, every beat and betraying flutter.
"You said what you said today because you wanted a reaction." His thumb slowly traced the line of my jaw. "You wanted me to come to you tonight. You’ve been wanting it since the moment I didn’t look at you on the terrace."
"I wanted you to look at me."
"Look at you." His jaw tightened. "I have spent three years looking at you. I have spent three years wanting you, taking you, and pretending I could stop."
"Then don’t pretend." The words hung between us, heavy and naked.
His palm pressed flat against my windpipe, firm but not cutting. The candlelight carved shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look dangerous in a way the duchess never saw.
"You have quite the mouth on you today, hm?" he gruffed. I could tell he was holding himself back by a thread.
I swallowed against his hand, feeling the way his fingers tightened in response. "I learned from the best."
The blue in his eyes turned colder. His thumb pressed into the soft hollow beneath my jaw, as he tilted my head back until the ceiling was all I could see.
"You spoke out of turn today." he said. "In front of my wife."
"I spoke the truth."
"The truth." he scoffed, letting out a breath that was almost a laugh, but there was no humour in it. "You think I give a fuck what the truth is? And do you truly believe your word against mine would ever be considered?"
I smiled up at him, even with his hand on my throat, and the wall digging into my shoulder blades. "You seemed to give a fuck when you pulled me into the library after the spring ball while your wife was playing cards in the next room."
Chris’ grip tightened, by just a fraction. Just enough to make my pulse flutter. "Careful." he warned.
"Or what, Chris? You'll banish me?" I let the words drip. "Send me away? Find some other girl to warm your bed when the duchess is asleep?"
He was quiet for a long moment. His eyes moved over my face, searching for something I wasn’t sure he would find. "You think I need you." he said slowly.
"I know you do."
"You need to be taught a lesson." he said, his voice dropping to something that made my stomach tighten. "You need to be punished."
Before I could answer, his hand left my throat and found my wrist instead. He roughly tugged me away from the wall, turning me, and pushed. I stumbled forward until my knees hit the edge of the bed frame, my palms catching against the plush quilt.
"On your hands and knees." he commanded. “Now.”
I obeyed, but slowly, as a wicked grin spread across my lips. I let him watch me settle onto all fours, as the silk of my nightgown slid against my thighs, and my hair fell forward in a dark curtain. I could feel his eyes on me, and the heat of his gaze tracing the curve of my spine and the swell of my hips. I arched my back just enough to give him a better view.
Chris’ hand found the hem of my nightgown and urgently hiked it up, bunching the silk around my waist until the air hit my bare skin. I was completely exposed. My ass bared to him, and the soft shadow between my thighs visible in the candlelight. I pressed my forehead into the mattress and let him take a good look.
"This is what your mouth earns you." he rasped. "This is what happens when you forget your place in front of her."
His hand came down flat against my ass. The crack of it split the quiet room, sharp and loud, and I gasped into the mattress. The sting bloomed across my skin, bright and spreading, and I felt my fingers curl into the bedding.
"Count." he said.
"One."
His hand landed again, this one a little harder. The sound echoed off the walls, and I bit my lip against the moan that wanted to follow.
"Two."
Chris spanked me again, and again, each strike landing on a different spot, spreading the heat until my entire body was burning. I lost count somewhere after six. All I could feel was the weight of his palm, the crack of each blow, and the way my skin sang under every impact.
When he finally stopped, his hand rested on the curve of my ass, warm and heavy. The shape of his palm printed on my skin felt like a brand.
"Look at you…" he said, his voice had changed to something darker… and mesmerized. "Look at what I have done to you."
His fingers traced the curve of my ass, dipping lower, until he was sliding along the wet heat between my thighs. I heard him draw a sharp breath.
"Fuck, you’re dripping." he said. "You’re soaked from your punishment."
I turned my head, trying to see him from over my shoulder. Chris was staring at my thigh, and I followed his gaze. My own arousal was running down my inner thigh, a glistening trail that caught the candlelight.
He gathered some of it on his fingers and brought them to his lips. He tasted me slow, his eyes never leaving mine, and the sight of it made my breath catch.
"You’re a whore." he said, the word rolling off his tongue like honey. It sounded almost affectionate. "A greedy little slut. But mine… my whore."
I said nothing, but gasped softly. Him claiming ownership of me had my hole clench in need.
So Chris’ fingers found my cunt again, sliding through the wetness, and circling my clit before pushing inside me in a single, smooth thrust. I cried out, my arms buckling, catching myself on my elbows as his fingers worked inside me. Two of them, long, thick, and insistent, curling against that spot that made my vision go white around the edges.
His other hand fisted in my hair and yanked, pulling my head back until my spine arched. The pain was sharp and perfect, making me moan against the pull of it.
"You think you can say whatever you want?" he asked, his voice deep in my ear as his fingers drove into me. "You think because I want this cunt that you have power over me?"
"I know I do." I gasped.
My defiance made his fingers curl harder, and I choked on the sound that escaped me.
"You forget yourself." he hissed, pulling his hand out of me. Before I could grieve the loss, his arm wrapped around my waist and hauled me up. My back hit his chest, my spine pressed against the heat of him, and his hand found my throat again. His fingers pressed into the soft skin beneath my jaw as he held me against him.
His mouth found my ear, his breath hot against the shell of it. "You’re my wife's lady-in-waiting, and you spread your legs like a strumpet in a coaching inn." Chris’ lewd words landed hard, and I felt them spark in the pit of my stomach.
His other hand, still slick with my wetness, slid down between my thighs and found my clit. He circled it with his thumb, firm and relentless, and I bucked against him, my hand flying up to grip the back of his neck.
“Chris—- please—“
"That’s it." he said against my ear, and I could tell he was smirking, watching me melt.
My fingers dug into the nape of his neck, into the soft hair at his collar, as I held on while his thumb worked me in maddening circles. My legs trembled and my breath came in ragged gasps. The liquid heat was building, coiling low and tight in my belly, and I could feel myself clenching around nothing, desperate for him.
His grip on my throat tightened. Not enough to stop my breath, but just enough to remind me who was holding me up. "You’re going to cum for me." he demanded. "And then I’m going to use you however I please."
His words made the pressure within me burst. I came undone in his arms, my body convulsing against him, as a weak cry tore from somewhere deep in my chest. I felt everything: the heat, the release, and the way his thumb kept circling me through it, drawing it out until I was shaking. I moaned in protest from the oversentivity, until he finally let go.
I fell forward onto the bed, my arms too weak to catch me, as my body sank into the mattress. In the quiet room, I could hear my own breathing, ragged and loud and the whisper of the candle’s flame dancing.
I twisted around, rolling onto my back, and the movement pulled my nightgown taut across my body. The silk strained against my breasts and across my stomach, making my hard nipples visible through the thin fabric. My chest rose and fell with each panting breath, and I watched him watch me.
Chris stood at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to the buttons of his trousers. He worked them open with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with a pearly bead at the end .
After removing his waistcoat and shirt, he climbed onto the bed and settled between my thighs, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. His hands found the neckline of my nightgown, the silk which was stretched thin over my breasts.
"You’re spilling out of this." Chris said, his voice roughened by lust. "Like a common whore showing off what she has to offer."
He grabbed the fabric at the neckline, where my breasts threatened to spill over, and tore it open. The rip was loud and sharp, the silk giving way to his strong hands, and left me completely bare before him. The air hit my heated skin. His eyes moved over me, from my breasts, to my stomach, and then between my thighs. Chris looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour.
His hands found my breasts, cupping them, and squeezed fistfuls of my flesh. He kneaded them roughly, his thumbs circling my nipples until they were aching from the friction, and I arched into his touch.
"You have the most perfect breasts." he praised. "Does my wife have hers like these? Does she make me hard just by looking over my way?"
I shook my head, my voice lost.
"No." he agreed. "Only you. Only my ravishing whore."
He then lowered his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth, sucking hard, and biting down until I gasped. The pain mixed with pleasure, sharp and bright, had me threading my fingers through his hair as he moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. He sucked and bit until my nipples were swollen and aching, until I was writhing beneath him.
When Chris pulled back, I watched him wrap his hand around his thick cock. He then pressed it between my breasts, sliding the head along the valley of them, and I felt the heat of him against my skin.
"Squeeze them together." he said.
I obliged, and pressed my breasts around his cock. Chris thrusted into the tight channel of them, the head barely brushing against my chin with every movement, as he elicited the prettiest groans. The sensation was strange and hot, but the friction of his skin against mine, and the way he used my body like a toy thrilled me. I gasped at every thrust, the head of his cock sliding wet and thick between my breasts.
My hand drifted down, reaching to soothe my aching clit, but Chris’ hand caught my wrist before I could touch myself.
"No." he said. "You don’t get to touch yourself. Tonight you are mine to use. You’re my slut, and I will do with you as I please."
"Please, Chris." I heard myself plead. "Please fuck me."
"You will be fucked when I decide you will be fucked." He pulled his cock from between my breasts and looked down at me, that hard line still carved into his jaw. "But first, since that mouth of yours gets you into so much trouble, I want it around my cock."
He shifted forward, his knees bracketing my ribs, and the head of his cock pressed against my lips. I parted them without hesitation, letting him push past the wet heat of my mouth, and instantly the taste of him flooded my tongue. Salt, skin, and the faint trace of my fragrance from where he had pressed between my breasts.
"Take it." he ordered, his hand fisting in my hair. "Take all of it."
I opened my throat wider for him. He thrusted deep, making the head slide past my tongue, and press against the back of my throat until my eyes watered. I gasped around him, my hands finding his thighs, and he held me there for a long moment, letting me feel the stretch and the fullness of it.
"That’s it." he groaned. "Look at you. Look at my whore on her back with my cock down her throat."
Chris pulled back and thrusted again, setting a rhythm that had me gripping his thighs, as my fingernails dug into his skin. His hand stayed twisted in my hair, guiding each thrust, and his other hand found my breast. He squeezed, kneaded, and rolled my nipple between his fingers until I moaned around his cock, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth.
"You like that?" he asked, his voice ragged. "You like being used like this?"
I couldn’t answer. I could only take him, as my throat worked around each thrust, and my hands stroked the solid muscle of his thighs as he fucked my mouth. He played with my nipples the whole time, pinching and rolling until they were swollen and aching, and I was wet and dripping onto the sheets beneath me.
He then pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with my saliva, and crawled down my body. The head of his cock pressed against my stomach, leaving a wet trail across my skin as he positioned himself between my thighs.
"Look at this pretty cunt." he husked. "So wet and ready for me."
He took his cock in his hand and dragged the head across my slippery slit. Once, then twice. The sensation was maddening, the head catching on my clit with every pass, spreading my wetness across my folds. I could feel his precum mixing with my arousal, turning into a slick, sticky mess that coated my entrance.
"Please…" I begged, as I tried to catch my breath. "Please, Chris."
"Please what?" He dragged the head through our arousal again, slower this time, pressing just at my entrance without pushing in.
"Please fuck me. I need to feel you."
"You need to be filled?" He slid the head of his cock over my clit, and I bucked beneath him, as a sob caught in my throat. "You need your cunt stuffed full of my cock?"
"Yes! Yes, please!"
He kept teasing, sliding through the wetness, and the head of his cock kept catching on my entrance then slipping away. The tension built until I was trembling, and clawing at the sheets. I was becoming desperate and would have said anything, promised him anything, to feel him inside me.
"Please," I whimpered again. "Please, Chris. I need it. I need you."
He leaned over me, his hands bracing on either side of my head, and I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance. He held there, just at the threshold, with his face inches from mine.
"Whose are you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yours."
Then he pushed in.
The stretch was everything. I cried out, my head pressing back into the mattress, as my hands flew up to find his shoulders. Chris filled me completely, inch by inch, until his hips were pressed flush against mine and I could feel him everywhere. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting me adjust to the size of him.
"Look at me." he said.
And I did. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there was something in them that made my chest ache.
Then he began to move.
His thrusts were deep and punishing, each one driving the breath from my lungs. His hands were braced on either side of my head, his forearms corded with tension, and the angle had his cock rubbing against a spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. Chris was everywhere, all around me, inside me, his breath hot against my neck, and his body pressed me into the mattress.
"More." I gasped. "More."
So he gave me more. He drove harder and faster, each thrust hitting that spot with devastating precision. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he lowered his head to my neck, his breath coming in ragged pants against my skin.
My nails raked down his back, leaving red lines in their wake, and he groaned against my throat. The sound was low and animal, a sound the duchess probably never heard from her husband. It was a sound he saved only for me.
"Whose are you?" he asked again, his voice rough and raw.
"Yours, Your Grace. I’m only yours."
"That’s right." He drove deeper and harder, his hips slapping against mine. "You are mine in ways she will never be. She is my wife, my duchess, but you… you are my whore, my harlot. You are the one I come to when I need to feel something real. When I need to let go."
Chris’ hand found my throat, pressing gently, and he lifted his head to look at me. His eyes were dark, his mouth parted, and he was beautiful like this, completely undone and raw.
"Cum for me." he said.
The pressure within me snapped. I shattered beneath him, my body clenching around his cock, as my cry got swallowed by the dark. Chris followed a moment later, a low groan tore from his throat, as his hips pressed hard against mine while he spilled into me, hot and thick.
We stayed like that, tangled and breathing, in the flickering candlelight. The air smelled of sex, sweat, and the duke.
I laid there, with my skin flushed and my thighs sticky with the evidence of us. I was sore and satisfied, still feeling the marks of his hands on my skin, and his seed dripping from between my thighs. I could feel every place he had touched me, struck me, and claimed me.
Chris raised himself on one elbow and looked down at me. For a moment his face was soft, unlike his usual stern face. There was something raw and unguarded visible upon it, that made my chest tighten.
He then leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn’t like the other times he kissed me. This kiss was slow, deep, and thorough. His hand cupped my jaw, as his thumb traced the line of my cheek, and he kissed me like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth. Like he was drinking me in. His tongue slid against mine, and I kissed him back with everything I had, while my hand found the back of his head, and my fingers threaded through his hair.
The kiss went on and on, stealing my breath, leaving me dizzy. Chris took and took until there was nothing left, until I was gasping against his lips, and until he had pulled the last of my air into himself.
And that’s when he pulled away.
Chris looked different. The softness had vanished, and it was replaced by the smooth, unreadable mask of the duke. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and reached for his trousers.
I watched him dress in silence, and he didn’t even spare a glance at me. His movements were efficient and practiced, the same way he always dressed himself after he had spent some time with me. When he was done, he straightened his collar and walked towards the door.
Chris paused with his hand on the latch. His back was straight, and his shoulders set. Almost like he wanted to change his mind.
But he didn’t turn around. The door opened, closed, and then he was gone.
I laid there in the rumpled sheets, with my body aching in all the right places. The candle had burned low, casting long shadows across the ceiling. I was red, sore, and dripping with the evidence of him.
I smiled in the dark.
Let him walk out with that stoic face and lie straight to his wife’s face. I would still be here in the morning, by the duchess’s side, and so would every mark he had left on me.
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matt would bully words into your brain about your cunt if he got you pregnant. his rambles of cockiness as his own cock decides to slide in and out of you at a rapid—would be overstimulating for you to even respond.
“yeaahhh everyone will know you took my dick hm?”
matt grabs the back of your knees and pushes the upward even more, as his dick hits an even deeper angle. he would watch as your belly started to create a bulge from how deep his is inside of you.
“aaawww—shit. poor y/n. everyone will know i put a baby in you. fucked you real good huh?”
“y’gonna have to watch the faces of friends, my brothers and parents when they realize i got into their favorite innocent girls pussy. that i fucked—shit!, m’gonna fuck a kid into you now.”
before matt completely bears his teeth at you almost as if he’s about to attack. but he starts to go even faster if possible—putting you into a mating press that makes you light headed while tears cloud your eyes.
when he finally cums….its a lot and shoots deep inside of you because his dick is on the long side and he’s already near your cervix. matt would let out breaths and slight whimpers—rubbing circles while still cumming into your pussy. before finally pulling out with a wet slshop pop sound.
dom!matt, enemy!matt, enemies to lovers, hate-sex, praise, unprotected sex
✧ summary: when your annoying neighbor matt gets locked out during a storm and shows up at your door drenched and smirking, you end up hate-fucking on your couch until the power comes back.
✧ word count: 3.1k
✧ authors note: yay violet finally wrote something...
the storm hit around nine pm.
not the gentle kind of rain that taps against windows and lulls you to sleep. this was the violent kind, wind screaming against the trees, water coming down thick enough to blur the streetlights into orange smears.
you were on the couch, already in sweatpants and an old tank top, hair piled messily on top of your head, when the knocking started.
three sharp raps. insistent.
you checked your phone. no emergency alerts, no texts from your roommate who was out of town for the weekend. probably just a branch hitting the siding, you decided, turning the volume up on your show.
the knocking came again. louder.
"you've got to be kidding me," you muttered, pausing it. you padded to the door, checked the peephole, and felt your stomach drop with annoyance that only one person could summon.
matt sturniolo.
he was soaked. absolutely drenched. dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping off his jaw onto your welcome mat. he was wearing that stupid leather jacket he always had on, the one that creaked when he moved, and he looked like he'd just swum here.
you opened the door slightly, peeking through the crack. "what."
he looked up at you through wet lashes, already smirking despite the fact that he was visibly shivering. "hey, neighbor."
"no."
"come on." he gestured vaguely at the downpour behind him. "i'm locked out."
"how is that my problem?"
"chris and nick are gone until tomorrow." he wiped water from his face. "and your door is the closest one that isn't across the street."
you stared at him. he stared back, blue eyes catching the porch light, water dripping steadily from his nose.
you hated him.
you hated him since the day he moved in three months ago, when he'd "accidentally" taken your parking spot and left a note that said finders keepers on your windshield. you hated how he blasted music through the thin walls at two am. you hated how he smirked at you in the hallway.
mostly you hated how good he looked doing it.
"you're dripping on my mat," you said flatly.
"i'm dripping everywhere, yeah." he shifted, leather jacket creaking. "look, can i just. can i come in for like twenty minutes? until the rain slows down? i'll stand right here by the door, i won't even—"
thunder cracked directly overhead, loud enough to rattle your teeth. the lights flickered. once. twice.
then went out completely.
you both stood there in the sudden darkness, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside, casting his shadow long across your floor.
"or," he said quietly, "i could come in until the power comes back. since we're both gonna be sitting in the dark anyway."
you should have told him to sleep in his car.
but you stepped back, jerking your chin toward the living room. "take your shoes off. if you get water on my floors, i'll actually kill you."
matt's smile was quick and crooked, there and gone. "there's that hospitality."
"shut up."
he toed off his boots. they were heavy work boots, you noticed, scuffed and worn. as he stepped inside you realized he was taller up close, filling your doorway with the smell of rain and leather and his cologne.
"living room," you said again, stepping back to give him space.
he walked past you, close enough that you felt the chill radiating off his clothes. "nice place," he said, which was obviously a lie because you were a mess, not expecting a guest.
"don't look at anything."
"wasn't planning on it."
he stood in the middle of your living room, water pooling around his feet, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you were going to be stuck with him for hours.
the storm was only getting louder, rattling the windows, and you knew from experience that outages in this building could last until morning.
"you have towels?" he asked.
"theres some in the bathroom. down the hall."
he moved toward it, shedding the leather jacket as he went, dropping it over your armchair without asking. you bit your tongue.
when he came back, he'd stripped off the wet hoodie underneath too, leaving him in just a black t-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, dark hair already drying into messy waves.
he tossed you a towel, kept one for himself, and started roughly drying his hair.
"this is ridiculous," you said, more to yourself than him.
"agreed." he rubbed the towel over his neck, exposing the line of his throat, the tendon there flexing. "we could just sit in silence. pretend the other doesn't exist. like we do usually."
"you started that."
"i started that?" he dropped the towel, looking at you with genuine disbelief. "you're the one who looked at me like you wanted me dead the first time we met."
"you took my parking spot."
"it was empty!"
"it was mine."
matt stared at you for a second, then laughed—low and surprised, like he hadn't expected to find you funny. "christ, you're still mad about that? that was three months ago."
"i hold grudges."
"clearly." he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and you watched the movement despite yourself. "you know what i think?"
"that you're entitled?"
"that you just like being mad at me." he took a step closer, casual, hands tucked into his pockets. "gives you something to think about at night."
"i don't think about you."
"liar."
the word hung between you, soft and dangerous.
you should have stepped back. should have grabbed a flashlight, lit a candle, done anything other than stand there while he looked at you like that. like he could see right through you, through the annoyance.
"you're insufferable," you said quietly.
"and yet you're not kicking me out."
"the door's locked, genius. power's out."
"could tell me to sleep on the porch."
"considering it."
matt hummed, taking another step. he was close now. close enough that you could smell the rain on his skin, see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, the freckles you hadn't noticed before.
"you're shaking," he observed.
"i'm cold." you weren't. you were burning up.
"yeah?" he reached out, slow enough that you could have stopped him, and brushed the back of his fingers against your neck. his skin was cool from the rain, but his touch sent heat down your spine. "feels warm to me."
"don't," you said, but your voice came out rough.
"don't what?"
"touch me like that."
"like what?" his thumb found your pulse point, pressing just hard enough to make your breath hitch. "like i know you want me to?
you should have pulled away.
you should have stepped back, grabbed a blanket, told him to sleep on the floor like the obnoxious inconvenience he was.
instead you stood frozen while his thumb traced slow circles against your pulse point, watching your reaction like he was memorizing it.
"you gonna hit me?" he asked quietly, voice rougher than the rain against the windows. "or you gonna admit you've been thinking about this since i moved in?"
"i hate you," you breathed, but it sounded weak even to you.
"yeah?" matt stepped closer, crowding you against the arm of the couch, his body a wall of heat and rain-cool skin. "say it again."
"i hate—"
he kissed you.
hard.
no words, no gentle testing, just his mouth crashing against yours, his hand sliding from your neck to grip your jaw, tilting your head back exactly how he wanted. he tasted like rain and mint and your knees buckled before your brain could catch up.
you made a noise against his mouth, embarrassing and desperate, and matt laughed before doing it again, his tongue sliding past your lips with arrogant confidence.
"that's what i thought," he murmured against your mouth, his other hand finding your waist, fingers digging in with a possession that made your head spin. "all that anger. all that shit you talk." he bit your lower lip, sharp enough to sting. "just covering this up."
"shut up," you gasped, but your hands were fisting in his t-shirt, pulling him closer, not pushing him away.
"make me."
you kissed him this time, aggressive and messy, all the frustration of three months spilling out into teeth and tongue and grasping hands. he groaned into your mouth, a sound that vibrated through your chest, and then his hands were moving—sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you easily onto the back of the couch.
"wait—" you started, but he was already stepping between your legs, pressing close enough that you could feel him hard and thick against you through the thin layers of clothes.
"no," he said simply, his mouth finding your throat, sucking marks into your skin with a hunger that made you arch. "no more waiting. you've been driving me fucking insane."
his hands pushed up under your tank top, rough palms dragging over your ribs, your stomach, thumbs brushing deliberately beneath your breasts. you shivered.
"cold?" he taunted, even as his touch turned gentler, tracing the shape of you like he couldn't help himself.
"you're—" you couldn't finish, your breath catching as his thumbs swept over your nipples, already hard and aching. "fuck."
"that's the plan." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown wide, black in the dim light from the window.
his hair was drying into wild waves, his mouth swollen from kissing you. he looked wrecked already, and he'd barely touched you. "tell me to stop. right now. or i'm gonna fuck you like i've been imagining since we met."
your stomach flipped hard. "you imagined?"
"every night," he cut in, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "every time you walked past me in the hall with that stick up your ass, ignoring me." he rolled his hips, grinding against you, and you both groaned. "imagined you just like this. desperate and wet and taking my cock."
"god," you choked out, your head falling back against the wall. "you're such an asshole."
"and you love it."
he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands finally cupping your breasts properly, thumbs flicking over sensitive them until you were squirming against him.
the rain was deafening against the windows, the power still out, and you felt like you were drowning in him, in the smell of his skin and the roughness of his palms and the way he kissed like he was trying to consume you.
"matt," you managed between kisses, your fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt, needing skin.
he growled against your jaw, his hands dropping to your waistband, fingers hooking under the elastic of your sweatpants. "need to feel you. now."
he dragged the fabric down your hips, taking your underwear with it, the cool air hitting your skin. you lifted your hips helpfully, your pulse hammering in your ears as he tossed the clothes aside.
he looked at you, really looked at you, his gaze dragging down your body with a hunger that made you feel exposed.
"shit," he breathed, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, spreading you open for him. "look at you. already soaked."
you squirmed as his fingers brushed through your folds, finding you embarrassingly wet. "matt, please—"
"please what?" he asked, maddeningly slow, circling your entrance with one finger while his thumb found your clit, pressing just hard enough to make you see stars. "use your words. you're usually so good at telling me what i'm doing wrong."
"shut up," you whined, rocking against his hand, seeking more friction. "just fuck me. god, just fuck me already."
he laughed, dark and pleased, and then he was pushing a finger inside you, curling it immediately, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging in through his shirt.
"that's it," he praised, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath hot and ragged. "that's my girl. taking it so well." he added a second finger, stretching you open with a burn that made your toes curl. "so tight. been thinking about this? about me filling you up?"
"yes," you sobbed, your hips moving in time with his hand, chasing the building pressure. "yes, fuck, matt,"
he captured your mouth again, swallowing your sounds, his fingers working you ruthlessly while his other hand pushed your tank top up, exposing your chest to the cool air.
he broke the kiss only to drop his head, his mouth finding your nipple, sucking hard enough to make you cry out, your back arching off the couch.
"matt," you gasped, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. "i'm gonna, i'm close—"
"not yet," he said against your skin, lifting his head, his eyes dark and intense. "not until i'm inside you. want to feel you come on my cock, not my hand."
he pulled his fingers out and shoved his own pants down, his cock springing free. you reached for him without thinking, wrapping your hand around his length, marveling at the heat of him, the way he throbbed in your palm.
"shit," he groaned, his hips bucking into your touch. "careful. been holding this back for months. won't last if you keep doing that."
"then don't wait," you whispered, your voice wrecked. "fuck me. please. i need—"
he didn't make you finish the sentence. he grabbed your hips, pulling you to the edge of the couch, and then he was guiding himself to your entrance, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, spreading your wetness, making you both gasp.
"look at me," he commanded, his hand gripping your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. "stay right here with me."
he pushed in.
slow at first, just the thick head stretching you open, burning so perfectly that your breath stuttered. he groaned, a low, broken sound, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.
"fuck," he gritted out, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "fuck, you're so tight. so perfect."
"more," you begged, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
he snarled, actually snarled, and thrust forward, burying himself in one rough movement. you cried out, your head falling back, your body adjusting to the overwhelming fullness of him.
he was so deep like this, your knees pressed against his ribs, his pelvis grinding against yours with every slight shift.
"okay?" he asked, his voice strained, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still.
"move," you demanded, your nails raking down his back. "fucking move, matt."
he did.
he pulled back and snapped his hips forward, the force of it making the couch creak, your body jolting with every impact. he set a brutal pace immediately, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room alongside the rain.
"is this—" he grunted, his hips snapping forward again, harder, "—what you wanted? when you were glaring at me across the hall? imagining me inside you like this?"
"yes," you sobbed, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body bouncing with every thrust. "god, yes, harder,"
he laughed, breathless and wild, and obliged, his grip shifting to lift your hips slightly, changing the angle so that he was hitting that spot inside you with every stroke, the pleasure building sharp and overwhelming.
"look at you," he panted, his eyes locked on where you were joined, watching himself slide in and out of you. "taking it so well. so fucking pretty when you're not talking."
"you talk too much," you managed, your voice breaking on a moan as he thrust particularly deep.
"yeah?" he leaned down, his mouth finding your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "then tell me to stop."
he rolled his hips, grinding against your clit with every movement, and you cried out, your body tightening around him involuntarily.
"didn't think so," he murmured, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "just take it. take my cock like a good girl. let me feel how much you like it."
"i don't—" you started, but he thrust hard, stealing your breath and your words.
"don't you?" he teased, his hand sliding between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles that had you teetering on the edge. "then why are you so wet for me? why are you clenching around me like you never want me to leave?"
"matt," you choked out, your vision blurring at the edges. "i'm gonna—"
"come for me," he commanded, his voice dropping to that rough register that went straight to your spine. "come on my cock. show me how much you want this. how much you want me."
his thumb pressed down harder, his hips snapping forward with a force that moved the couch, and you came apart with a cry that he had to muffle with his mouth, his tongue sweeping as your body convulsed around him, your orgasm ripping through you in waves that left you shaking, boneless.
"shit," he gasped against your mouth, his rhythm faltering, his cock twitching inside you. "shit, you're so perfect, fuck,"
"inside me," you begged, your voice wrecked, your hands gripping his face, forcing him to look at you. "come inside me, matt. please, want to feel it,"
he groaned and then he was burying himself deep, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you. he kept moving, shallow, desperate thrusts, his breath ragged and warm against your neck, his body trembling through his own release.
for a long moment you stayed like that, breathing hard, his weight pressing you back against the couch, his cock still inside you, the rain still raging outside. the room smelled like sweat and sex and the storm, and you felt completely wrecked.
"you okay?" he murmured eventually, his voice muffled against your throat, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your hip where he'd gripped too hard.
you hummed, too fucked out to form words, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back.
he laughed softly and pressed a kiss to your temple. "yeah," he said quietly. "me too."
when he finally pulled out, you winced and he immediately looked concerned, his hands gentle as he helped you shift, arranging you on the couch beside him.
he cleaned you both up with his discarded towel and then he was pulling you against his side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare thigh.
outside, the storm continued to rage, and you realized with a start that the power was still out, the room still dark.
you leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, your body thrumming with a pleasant warmth.
"we can't stay on this couch forever," you murmured.
"why not?" he kissed your forehead, his voice already drifting toward sleep.
[ smut, sub!reader, dom!chris, making out, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, public sexc, getting caught kinda, etc. requested by anon. ]
ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭
the water was colder than you'd expected.
you floated onto your back, letting yourself drift across the quiet pool, the muffled bass from inside the house barely reaching the far end of the yard. the laughter and music blended into distant background noise, which is exactly why'd come here.
peace. quiet. a small break from seeing...
you flinched when a wave rolled across the water, smacking you straight in the face, a loud splash shattering your moment alone. you sputter, wiping water from your eyes, cursing under your breath. you shake your head, treading water, looking around for whoever just ruined your peaceful soak. the moon reflects on the surface, the music from the main party still pounding in the distance.
but now he's here, surfacing a few feet away, pushing his soaked hair back with his hand.
"...seriously?!"
"what?" chris asks innocently, grinning.
"are you sick in the head?! you couldn't have used the other pool?!"
"i totally could've," he replies, eyes flicking over your frustrated face. "but you can't have a whole pool to y'self, can ya?"
you give him a flat look, pushing yourself forward, swimming toward the opposite side of the pool. he follows, swimming smoothly across the water like a predator tracking prey. the alcohol had loosened his usual controlled edges, a reckless energy in his strokes now. "gonna pretend m'not here?" he calls after you.
"been doing a good job all night."
true— your mutual friend threw a pool party, inviting literally everyone from campus, unfortunately including the frat, so you were forced to see chris the whole time. you two have been ignoring each other as much as possible, considering the fact your friends were here, but you'd lie, if you said you weren't watching him from time to time, just like he was watching you.
"ouch," he puts a dramatic hand on his chest. "you wound me."
"that would’ve required me caring whether your feelings got hurt.”
he scoffs and smirks, watching how you swim away. "you swim like an old lady."
you stopped long enough to glance over your shoulder. "huh?"
"heard me."
"you've seen old ladies swim?"
"a couple."
"i'm concerned."
you hear him snort and you swim farther away, stopping on the other side of fhe pool. "really, though, you gonna explain yourself?" you ask, but you get complete silence in response. you frown, turning around, the surface of the water settled almost completely and chris nowhere to be found. "...chris?"
he stays completely submerged, watching you from below like a shark, his feet digging into the bottom of the pool as he glides slightly across, making no sound. you hear the distant music, feel the chill of the water, wondering if he actually left you alone. though you didn't hear him getting out of the pool.
you frowned, treading water as you looked around again, the pool lights barely reaching the deep end, everything beneath the surface faded in dark blue.
"seriously?" you scoffed and scanned the water again, trying to spot him anywhere. "you're so annoying, i swear—"
just as you start to turn your head to scan the other side, two hands suddenly grip your ankles underwater. you yelp, balance slipping immediately as you get yanked downward beneath the surface.
cold water swallows you whole, eyes snapping shut on instinct as bubbles rush past your face, the world dissolving into muffled sound. the pressure around your ankles disappears and you kick upward, breaking through the surface with a sharp gasp, immediately pushing the soaked hair out of your face.
"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you coughed, blinking water from your eyes. mascara left faint dark smudges beneath your lashes. "are you sick in the head?!"
chris surfaced right in front of your face, laughing, eyes dark with amusement and alcohol. "got scared?" he grins, looking entirely unbothered. he pushes his hair back, water dripping down his nose, eyes locking onto your smeared mascara. "you looked too peaceful, it was annoying," he shrugs, treading water effortlessly. "plus, you deserved that."
you glare at him, scrubbing at the smudged mascara beneath your eyes, only succeeding in making it worse. "stop laughing," you say when he doesn't even hide his amusement. "i'm serious. you're insane."
"and you still talkin' t'me," he shoots back.
"no, you're talking to me," you correct him. "this isn't funny. i got alcohol in my veins, i could've drown. what'd you do then?"
he looks at your serious expression and bursts out laughing again. your eyes narrow and you splash a handful of water straight into his face. he barely reacts, if anything his grin grows wider. "you're a fucking idiot."
"i've been called worse," he remarks. "you've usually got a bunch of insults ready within the first five minutes of seein' me."
"and somehow you still haven't taken a hint," you give him a fake smile, then glaring at him again.
"mm," he wipes the water from his eyes. "i know it's your weird way of flirtin'."
you stare at him in disbelief. "are you actually concussed?"
he swims closer, tilting his head. "c'mon, quit actin' like you can't stand me, when you enjoy my presence."
you blink, waiting for him to say he's joking, but he doesn't. that's when you let out an incredulous laugh. "you really are delusional, oh my god," you shake your head, pressing a hand to your forehead.
chris watches you for a second, that smug grin never leaving his face. "delusional?” he repeats. “that's a strong word from someone who keeps endin' up wherever i am.”
you let out a dry laugh, "please. you're the one being wherever i am. it's been like that before and it hasn't changed at all."
"interesting observation," he replies sarcastically, lazily swimming another stroke closer, invading your space. he watches your attempts to fix your ruined makeup, eyes trailing over the wet mascara smudges and water dripping down your face. "y'look like a raccoon," he says. "leave 'em eyes alone."
"don't tell me what to do," you shoot back.
"just sayin'," he shrugs, completely unbothered by your glare. "ya missed a spot," he points at your cheek. you slap his hand away, "can you shut up?"
"make me."
"i'm considering drowning you."
"good luck with that," he scoffs with a smirk. he doesn't look threatened in the slightest, just entertained. "i'd drag you down with me before you even got a hand on my neck." he moves his hands, creating another little splash.
"fuck, stop," you snap, turning your head around and closing your eyes to avoid getting water in them again.
"aw, can't you be fun for once?" he asks sarcastically, splashing again. his voice is smooth, dripping with that arrogant edge that used to make your blood boil.
still does.
you inhale deeply, staring at him with narrowed eyes. the silence stretches between you, muddled by alcohol, by the distant party music, by the fact that you haven't spoken all night until now. his eyes drop to your lips, then back up.
"i'm trying to figure out what's the easiest way to murder you and not get caught," you speak up.
"mmm, violent fantasies tonight. i like that," he mutters, completely unbothered, moving even closer in the water, until he's right in front of you and you have to look up. "you'd fail miserably," he adds.
"don't underestimate me, sturniolo."
his grin widens, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. he backs you into a corner, watching your eyes flickering to his face, then to the water surrounding you two.
"trapped," he slurrs slightly.
"i'm not scared of you, dumbass," you hold his gaze.
"should be," his voice drops an octave. he leans in closer, bracketing you against the pool edge. there's nowhere left to go, the wall is at your back and he's blocking the water in front of you. "i just dragged ya under," he reminds you. "could do it again."
you wet your bottom lip and his eyes drop again, jaw tightening for a split second before he forces his gaze back up to meet yours. the air between you feels heavy.
"i'll drag you with me this time," you finally reply.
he lets out something between a low groan and an annoyed scoff, moving in an instant to close the remaining distance. his lips crashed against yours, your fingers instinctively finding his shoulder to steady yourself as the water shifted beneath you. your lips respond and the kiss turns messy immediately. you taste the faint bitterness of beer, his hand slides into your wet hair to angle your head, kissing like he wants to swallow you whole. teeth clicking, tongues tangling, zero restraint.
your arms wrap around his shoulders as the kiss deepens. you're giving him every ounce of that resentment, every insult you never said, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. he kisses you like he wants to devour and destroy you at the same time, hands sliding down your body, gripping your thighs and picking you up effortlessly, water sloshing violently around you as your legs lock around his waist. the friction is immediate, hard and undeniable through his wet swim trunks. his cock presses right against you and you moan into his mouth, when he rolls his hips forward just to make sure you feel it— and you do. that hard ridge pressing through fabric, and you grind against him automatically, nails scraping his scalp as you pull his mouth harder against yours. he meets your grind with a sharp roll of his hips, rutting up into you, his erection dragging directly over your clit through the wet fabric.
"don't know if you this soaked from me or the water," he mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss to get some air.
your eyes flutter open, "doesn't make a difference."
"mhm, right," he hums, hand moving between your bodies, his fingers clumsy and urgent, hooking into the waistband of his trunks. "i'll make ya moan my name either way. here, in this pool, where everyone could see us."
you look around, hearing the distant music, people talking and laughing inside the house. anyone could leave any moment, and if they turn on the lights outside, you're fucked. especially that his brothers are here as well, and nick would give you shit for this, if he knew you're fucking around with chris again. he only ever wanted you two to be good, but not this good, when chris has done you dirty last year.
"gotta be careful then, no?" you ask, deciding to take the risk. he smirks, the alcohol making his movements slower than he wants, the wet fabric fighting him, but he manages to yank down his shorts, freeing himself, the water instantly cooling overhead skin.
"you're really bad at resistin' me," he replies.
"you talk too much."
he snorts, pushing your bikini to the side and guiding himself to your entrance, rubbing against your slit. you bite down on your lower lip. "so are you gonna ask me nicely to fuck your pretty pussy?"
your eyes narrow at him, his pulpils blown wide. "i gotta ask?"
you were absolutely soaked, dripping, slick and ready. the water hasn't diluted it, if anything, it's made you wetter. the tip of him slides against your opening, teasing for a second. "could just admit you missed this," he mutters, pushing in just enough for you to feel it and then pulling out. "missed my dick, 'cus no one else can do it like i do. we both know it."
"you're really full of yourself, chris."
"and you full of shit," he remarks. "you act all annoyed and then lemme do this," he pushes in again, rougher this time, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. the water resists, slowing the movement, but not enough, getting a moan out of you.
you clamp around him immediately, tight grip pulling him deeper, eyebrows drawing together and you inhale sharply through your teeth. he doesn't give you time, pulling back and sliming into you again, his grip on your thighs tightens to bruising levels.
"fuckk— oh god, chris—" you moan despite yourself, head tilting back, exposing your throat.
"yeaaaah, louder," he mumbles, starting to fuck you properly now, deep strokes that make the water ripple violently around you. "let 'em hear how good i'm makin' ya feel. how bad you love when i fuck you."
"mmhh— fuck.... you're so...annoying...—"
"is that so?" he places kisses down your throat, marking your skin. each thrust pulls a noise out of you, each retreat leaves you aching for more.
he catches your lip between his teeth mid thrust, getting a gasp from you, the water sloshing around you, splashing over the edges. your walls clench around him everytime he bottoms out. "fuck, you're always so tight, i love this shit," he groans, lifting you higher to change the angle, so he can hit deeper. the thought of someone walking out and seeing him fucking you senseless, makes him rougher than usual and you're loving it.
"nothin' smart to say this time?" he mutters against your ear, when your head drops forward against his shoulder. "shut up— oh— shittt...." you whimper, completely losing it, when his hand wraps around your throat, urging you to lift your head, your pulse thudding beneath his fingers.
"eyes on me," he demands, his own watching your face, jaw tight. the alcohol turns everything into a blur. his own pleasure, your pleasure, the distance from the house, the noise— everything except the way you clamp around his cock. it was ridiculous how intensely your body reacted to something so simple. you felt almost dizzy, heat spreading through you way too quickly, heartbeat kicking hard against your ribs.
"c-chris—" you stutter, when his thrusts turn sharper, more precise, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur. one of his hands move from your thigh to grab your ass, fingers digging into wet skin.
"that's it, c'mon," his other hand presses harder against your throat, measuring your reaction. your eyes roll back, mouth falls open in that completely broken expression and it almost destroys him. the water adds resistance, making every thrust heavier.
his voice drops to a low, rough whisper against your ear, punctuated by harsh thrusts. "y'like that? being fucked like this in the middle of the pool? anyone could walk out and see me chokin' you, while i ruin this little pussy."
"fuck— stop... talking...." you moan, but the way your walls clench, taking him deeper, tells him everything he needs to know.
his lips curve into a smirk. "wanna try to talk back? you're too busy gettin' fucked to breathe right now." he moves his hips hard, hitting that spot again and again, knowing that makes you see stars. his hips move with a brutal rhythm, taking advantage of the water's buoyancy to lift you and slam back down on his cock.
"holy fuckkk— ah—!"
the hand on your throat slides up to wrap around your jaw, thumb pressing against your bottom lip, pushing it down. the other one leaves your ass to wrap around your waist, holding you in place for his brutal thrusts. the water churns around you, sending small waves over the side of the pool. "so fuckin' tight," he groans. "and loud. it's like you want 'em to hear us."
that pushes you over the edge, completely.
your mouth wraps around his thumb to muffle the loud noises that were escaping you now. the sudden tightness of your pussy milking his dick, makes him come almost immediately as well. he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, fingers digging into your skin harshly as he fucks you through your orgasm, drawing it out, making it last longer. his thrusts turn sloppy, less controlled, as he empties himself into you. when he finally stills, he's buried deep, the water around you slowly settles. "fuck," *he mumbles against your skin.
he had barely stopped moving when the sound of the terrace doors opening made you freeze.
a burst of laughter followed and your eyes went wide.
oh my god.
chris, on the other hand, only lazily glanced over your shoulder, seemingly far less concerned.
"yo, chris!" you heard.
nate.
you didn’t even think.
you immediately pushed yourself and chris lower into the water, practically ducking you both beneath the surface. he let out what sounded suspiciously like a laugh underwater, completely unbothered by the situation.
you quickly untangled your legs from around him and swam a few feet away, turning your back to him as you fixed your bikini and tried to get your breathing under control.
a few seconds later, you two surfaced from opposite sides of the pool. you wiped the water from your face, climbing out of the water as nonchalant as possible.
nate stopped by the edge, looking between you and grinning, but his eyes then narrowed. chris stood next to you now, nate's eyes moving between you both back and forth.
there was a small pause.
"deadass?" nate finally speaks, giving you two a look.
you closed your eyes.
"in the pool?!"
"quiet," you shush him, glaring at him. nate snorts, shaking his head. "you two really couldn't wait to get inside?"
"that's not—"
"i get it now," he says, looking at chris with a bigger grin. "why he's been so stubborn 'bout ya," he looks back at you. "you're just like him. freak matched. oh god, you weirdos, people swim in there."
now your eyes narrow. "you don't seem exactly surprised...." then you glance at chris who was standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. your jaw nearly drops. "oh god you know? he knows—? you told him?!"
"did he tell me you're hookin' up again?" nate raises his eyebrows. "wasn't that pretty obvious?"
"it happened," chris shrugs. you slap his arm, "i told you not to tell anyone!"
"c'mon, s'just me," nate says. "it's none of my business, really. i won't tell anyone."
"you better not."
"m'not," he promises, still grinning. he tilts his head and looks at the pool. "so as a good future uncle, i may resign from swimmin' in here. y'know, your kids are somewhere in that water, floating 'round—"
chris rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"oh god," you give them one last murderous look, before walking back toward the house, grabbing a towel from the chair on your way there.
"what? i don't wanna hurt chris junior by accident. or little chrissy."
one last thing you heard was how chris told nate to shut the fuck up. then you were already inside, rubbing your temples.
you wanted to erase those last words from your memory.
[ smut, sub!reader, dom!chris, making out, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, public sexc, getting caught kinda, etc. requested by anon. ]
ৎ୭~ৎ୭~ৎ୭
the water was colder than you'd expected.
you floated onto your back, letting yourself drift across the quiet pool, the muffled bass from inside the house barely reaching the far end of the yard. the laughter and music blended into distant background noise, which is exactly why'd come here.
peace. quiet. a small break from seeing...
you flinched when a wave rolled across the water, smacking you straight in the face, a loud splash shattering your moment alone. you sputter, wiping water from your eyes, cursing under your breath. you shake your head, treading water, looking around for whoever just ruined your peaceful soak. the moon reflects on the surface, the music from the main party still pounding in the distance.
but now he's here, surfacing a few feet away, pushing his soaked hair back with his hand.
"...seriously?!"
"what?" chris asks innocently, grinning.
"are you sick in the head?! you couldn't have used the other pool?!"
"i totally could've," he replies, eyes flicking over your frustrated face. "but you can't have a whole pool to y'self, can ya?"
you give him a flat look, pushing yourself forward, swimming toward the opposite side of the pool. he follows, swimming smoothly across the water like a predator tracking prey. the alcohol had loosened his usual controlled edges, a reckless energy in his strokes now. "gonna pretend m'not here?" he calls after you.
"been doing a good job all night."
true— your mutual friend threw a pool party, inviting literally everyone from campus, unfortunately including the frat, so you were forced to see chris the whole time. you two have been ignoring each other as much as possible, considering the fact your friends were here, but you'd lie, if you said you weren't watching him from time to time, just like he was watching you.
"ouch," he puts a dramatic hand on his chest. "you wound me."
"that would’ve required me caring whether your feelings got hurt.”
he scoffs and smirks, watching how you swim away. "you swim like an old lady."
you stopped long enough to glance over your shoulder. "huh?"
"heard me."
"you've seen old ladies swim?"
"a couple."
"i'm concerned."
you hear him snort and you swim farther away, stopping on the other side of fhe pool. "really, though, you gonna explain yourself?" you ask, but you get complete silence in response. you frown, turning around, the surface of the water settled almost completely and chris nowhere to be found. "...chris?"
he stays completely submerged, watching you from below like a shark, his feet digging into the bottom of the pool as he glides slightly across, making no sound. you hear the distant music, feel the chill of the water, wondering if he actually left you alone. though you didn't hear him getting out of the pool.
you frowned, treading water as you looked around again, the pool lights barely reaching the deep end, everything beneath the surface faded in dark blue.
"seriously?" you scoffed and scanned the water again, trying to spot him anywhere. "you're so annoying, i swear—"
just as you start to turn your head to scan the other side, two hands suddenly grip your ankles underwater. you yelp, balance slipping immediately as you get yanked downward beneath the surface.
cold water swallows you whole, eyes snapping shut on instinct as bubbles rush past your face, the world dissolving into muffled sound. the pressure around your ankles disappears and you kick upward, breaking through the surface with a sharp gasp, immediately pushing the soaked hair out of your face.
"what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you coughed, blinking water from your eyes. mascara left faint dark smudges beneath your lashes. "are you sick in the head?!"
chris surfaced right in front of your face, laughing, eyes dark with amusement and alcohol. "got scared?" he grins, looking entirely unbothered. he pushes his hair back, water dripping down his nose, eyes locking onto your smeared mascara. "you looked too peaceful, it was annoying," he shrugs, treading water effortlessly. "plus, you deserved that."
you glare at him, scrubbing at the smudged mascara beneath your eyes, only succeeding in making it worse. "stop laughing," you say when he doesn't even hide his amusement. "i'm serious. you're insane."
"and you still talkin' t'me," he shoots back.
"no, you're talking to me," you correct him. "this isn't funny. i got alcohol in my veins, i could've drown. what'd you do then?"
he looks at your serious expression and bursts out laughing again. your eyes narrow and you splash a handful of water straight into his face. he barely reacts, if anything his grin grows wider. "you're a fucking idiot."
"i've been called worse," he remarks. "you've usually got a bunch of insults ready within the first five minutes of seein' me."
"and somehow you still haven't taken a hint," you give him a fake smile, then glaring at him again.
"mm," he wipes the water from his eyes. "i know it's your weird way of flirtin'."
you stare at him in disbelief. "are you actually concussed?"
he swims closer, tilting his head. "c'mon, quit actin' like you can't stand me, when you enjoy my presence."
you blink, waiting for him to say he's joking, but he doesn't. that's when you let out an incredulous laugh. "you really are delusional, oh my god," you shake your head, pressing a hand to your forehead.
chris watches you for a second, that smug grin never leaving his face. "delusional?” he repeats. “that's a strong word from someone who keeps endin' up wherever i am.”
you let out a dry laugh, "please. you're the one being wherever i am. it's been like that before and it hasn't changed at all."
"interesting observation," he replies sarcastically, lazily swimming another stroke closer, invading your space. he watches your attempts to fix your ruined makeup, eyes trailing over the wet mascara smudges and water dripping down your face. "y'look like a raccoon," he says. "leave 'em eyes alone."
"don't tell me what to do," you shoot back.
"just sayin'," he shrugs, completely unbothered by your glare. "ya missed a spot," he points at your cheek. you slap his hand away, "can you shut up?"
"make me."
"i'm considering drowning you."
"good luck with that," he scoffs with a smirk. he doesn't look threatened in the slightest, just entertained. "i'd drag you down with me before you even got a hand on my neck." he moves his hands, creating another little splash.
"fuck, stop," you snap, turning your head around and closing your eyes to avoid getting water in them again.
"aw, can't you be fun for once?" he asks sarcastically, splashing again. his voice is smooth, dripping with that arrogant edge that used to make your blood boil.
still does.
you inhale deeply, staring at him with narrowed eyes. the silence stretches between you, muddled by alcohol, by the distant party music, by the fact that you haven't spoken all night until now. his eyes drop to your lips, then back up.
"i'm trying to figure out what's the easiest way to murder you and not get caught," you speak up.
"mmm, violent fantasies tonight. i like that," he mutters, completely unbothered, moving even closer in the water, until he's right in front of you and you have to look up. "you'd fail miserably," he adds.
"don't underestimate me, sturniolo."
his grin widens, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. he backs you into a corner, watching your eyes flickering to his face, then to the water surrounding you two.
"trapped," he slurrs slightly.
"i'm not scared of you, dumbass," you hold his gaze.
"should be," his voice drops an octave. he leans in closer, bracketing you against the pool edge. there's nowhere left to go, the wall is at your back and he's blocking the water in front of you. "i just dragged ya under," he reminds you. "could do it again."
you wet your bottom lip and his eyes drop again, jaw tightening for a split second before he forces his gaze back up to meet yours. the air between you feels heavy.
"i'll drag you with me this time," you finally reply.
he lets out something between a low groan and an annoyed scoff, moving in an instant to close the remaining distance. his lips crashed against yours, your fingers instinctively finding his shoulder to steady yourself as the water shifted beneath you. your lips respond and the kiss turns messy immediately. you taste the faint bitterness of beer, his hand slides into your wet hair to angle your head, kissing like he wants to swallow you whole. teeth clicking, tongues tangling, zero restraint.
your arms wrap around his shoulders as the kiss deepens. you're giving him every ounce of that resentment, every insult you never said, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. he kisses you like he wants to devour and destroy you at the same time, hands sliding down your body, gripping your thighs and picking you up effortlessly, water sloshing violently around you as your legs lock around his waist. the friction is immediate, hard and undeniable through his wet swim trunks. his cock presses right against you and you moan into his mouth, when he rolls his hips forward just to make sure you feel it— and you do. that hard ridge pressing through fabric, and you grind against him automatically, nails scraping his scalp as you pull his mouth harder against yours. he meets your grind with a sharp roll of his hips, rutting up into you, his erection dragging directly over your clit through the wet fabric.
"don't know if you this soaked from me or the water," he mutters against your lips, breaking the kiss to get some air.
your eyes flutter open, "doesn't make a difference."
"mhm, right," he hums, hand moving between your bodies, his fingers clumsy and urgent, hooking into the waistband of his trunks. "i'll make ya moan my name either way. here, in this pool, where everyone could see us."
you look around, hearing the distant music, people talking and laughing inside the house. anyone could leave any moment, and if they turn on the lights outside, you're fucked. especially that his brothers are here as well, and nick would give you shit for this, if he knew you're fucking around with chris again. he only ever wanted you two to be good, but not this good, when chris has done you dirty last year.
"gotta be careful then, no?" you ask, deciding to take the risk. he smirks, the alcohol making his movements slower than he wants, the wet fabric fighting him, but he manages to yank down his shorts, freeing himself, the water instantly cooling overhead skin.
"you're really bad at resistin' me," he replies.
"you talk too much."
he snorts, pushing your bikini to the side and guiding himself to your entrance, rubbing against your slit. you bite down on your lower lip. "so are you gonna ask me nicely to fuck your pretty pussy?"
your eyes narrow at him, his pulpils blown wide. "i gotta ask?"
you were absolutely soaked, dripping, slick and ready. the water hasn't diluted it, if anything, it's made you wetter. the tip of him slides against your opening, teasing for a second. "could just admit you missed this," he mutters, pushing in just enough for you to feel it and then pulling out. "missed my dick, 'cus no one else can do it like i do. we both know it."
"you're really full of yourself, chris."
"and you full of shit," he remarks. "you act all annoyed and then lemme do this," he pushes in again, rougher this time, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. the water resists, slowing the movement, but not enough, getting a moan out of you.
you clamp around him immediately, tight grip pulling him deeper, eyebrows drawing together and you inhale sharply through your teeth. he doesn't give you time, pulling back and sliming into you again, his grip on your thighs tightens to bruising levels.
"fuckk— oh god, chris—" you moan despite yourself, head tilting back, exposing your throat.
"yeaaaah, louder," he mumbles, starting to fuck you properly now, deep strokes that make the water ripple violently around you. "let 'em hear how good i'm makin' ya feel. how bad you love when i fuck you."
"mmhh— fuck.... you're so...annoying...—"
"is that so?" he places kisses down your throat, marking your skin. each thrust pulls a noise out of you, each retreat leaves you aching for more.
he catches your lip between his teeth mid thrust, getting a gasp from you, the water sloshing around you, splashing over the edges. your walls clench around him everytime he bottoms out. "fuck, you're always so tight, i love this shit," he groans, lifting you higher to change the angle, so he can hit deeper. the thought of someone walking out and seeing him fucking you senseless, makes him rougher than usual and you're loving it.
"nothin' smart to say this time?" he mutters against your ear, when your head drops forward against his shoulder. "shut up— oh— shittt...." you whimper, completely losing it, when his hand wraps around your throat, urging you to lift your head, your pulse thudding beneath his fingers.
"eyes on me," he demands, his own watching your face, jaw tight. the alcohol turns everything into a blur. his own pleasure, your pleasure, the distance from the house, the noise— everything except the way you clamp around his cock. it was ridiculous how intensely your body reacted to something so simple. you felt almost dizzy, heat spreading through you way too quickly, heartbeat kicking hard against your ribs.
"c-chris—" you stutter, when his thrusts turn sharper, more precise, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your vision blur. one of his hands move from your thigh to grab your ass, fingers digging into wet skin.
"that's it, c'mon," his other hand presses harder against your throat, measuring your reaction. your eyes roll back, mouth falls open in that completely broken expression and it almost destroys him. the water adds resistance, making every thrust heavier.
his voice drops to a low, rough whisper against your ear, punctuated by harsh thrusts. "y'like that? being fucked like this in the middle of the pool? anyone could walk out and see me chokin' you, while i ruin this little pussy."
"fuck— stop... talking...." you moan, but the way your walls clench, taking him deeper, tells him everything he needs to know.
his lips curve into a smirk. "wanna try to talk back? you're too busy gettin' fucked to breathe right now." he moves his hips hard, hitting that spot again and again, knowing that makes you see stars. his hips move with a brutal rhythm, taking advantage of the water's buoyancy to lift you and slam back down on his cock.
"holy fuckkk— ah—!"
the hand on your throat slides up to wrap around your jaw, thumb pressing against your bottom lip, pushing it down. the other one leaves your ass to wrap around your waist, holding you in place for his brutal thrusts. the water churns around you, sending small waves over the side of the pool. "so fuckin' tight," he groans. "and loud. it's like you want 'em to hear us."
that pushes you over the edge, completely.
your mouth wraps around his thumb to muffle the loud noises that were escaping you now. the sudden tightness of your pussy milking his dick, makes him come almost immediately as well. he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, fingers digging into your skin harshly as he fucks you through your orgasm, drawing it out, making it last longer. his thrusts turn sloppy, less controlled, as he empties himself into you. when he finally stills, he's buried deep, the water around you slowly settles. "fuck," *he mumbles against your skin.
he had barely stopped moving when the sound of the terrace doors opening made you freeze.
a burst of laughter followed and your eyes went wide.
oh my god.
chris, on the other hand, only lazily glanced over your shoulder, seemingly far less concerned.
"yo, chris!" you heard.
nate.
you didn’t even think.
you immediately pushed yourself and chris lower into the water, practically ducking you both beneath the surface. he let out what sounded suspiciously like a laugh underwater, completely unbothered by the situation.
you quickly untangled your legs from around him and swam a few feet away, turning your back to him as you fixed your bikini and tried to get your breathing under control.
a few seconds later, you two surfaced from opposite sides of the pool. you wiped the water from your face, climbing out of the water as nonchalant as possible.
nate stopped by the edge, looking between you and grinning, but his eyes then narrowed. chris stood next to you now, nate's eyes moving between you both back and forth.
there was a small pause.
"deadass?" nate finally speaks, giving you two a look.
you closed your eyes.
"in the pool?!"
"quiet," you shush him, glaring at him. nate snorts, shaking his head. "you two really couldn't wait to get inside?"
"that's not—"
"i get it now," he says, looking at chris with a bigger grin. "why he's been so stubborn 'bout ya," he looks back at you. "you're just like him. freak matched. oh god, you weirdos, people swim in there."
now your eyes narrow. "you don't seem exactly surprised...." then you glance at chris who was standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. your jaw nearly drops. "oh god you know? he knows—? you told him?!"
"did he tell me you're hookin' up again?" nate raises his eyebrows. "wasn't that pretty obvious?"
"it happened," chris shrugs. you slap his arm, "i told you not to tell anyone!"
"c'mon, s'just me," nate says. "it's none of my business, really. i won't tell anyone."
"you better not."
"m'not," he promises, still grinning. he tilts his head and looks at the pool. "so as a good future uncle, i may resign from swimmin' in here. y'know, your kids are somewhere in that water, floating 'round—"
chris rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"oh god," you give them one last murderous look, before walking back toward the house, grabbing a towel from the chair on your way there.
"what? i don't wanna hurt chris junior by accident. or little chrissy."
one last thing you heard was how chris told nate to shut the fuck up. then you were already inside, rubbing your temples.
you wanted to erase those last words from your memory.
disc: swearing, smut [ unprotected p in v, fingering, being put in a headlock, creampie lol ], being incredibly horny for your bf, bicep kink, cocky soft dom!chris, and lowk gentle brat tamer!chris.
you don’t necessarily mean stare. but the way chris looks in this very moment has you in a trance. the way his white tee sits on his frame, the fabric straining in best way around his thick arms, the way his hair curls out from under the edges of his hat, and how bright his eyes look in the sunlight makes it hard for you to look away. he looks good. unfairly so. the outfit, the stubble, the subtle cockiness and gentle confidence that he walks with is making you feel like a cat in heat.
truth be told, you absolutely mean to stare. when chris had walked out of his room wearing a white tee, slightly less baggy blue jeans, and his hat backwards like always your breath hitched in your throat. one thing caught your attention specifically and it was how snug the cuffs of his t-shirt had gotten around his biceps.
lately chris’ trips to gym and progress in gaining muscle mass has been a lot more noticeable. his chest and shoulders had broadened out even more, and his biceps were very clearly and noticeably larger. and god were you in heaven. chris picked up on your interest in his arms, chuckling every time your hand wrapped around the upper flesh, your fingers straining just slightly against his muscle as you two walked around.
you giggle to yourself as you walk over to chris, a smirk on your face and your hands hidden behind your back “innocently”. chris had stopped by the kitchen sink, rinsing out the cup he had used, and he could feel you creeping up on him.
“what’re you giggling’ about over there?” your boyfriend calls over his shoulder, the muscles in his back flexing beneath the white shirt as he dries the cup.
“nothing.” you hum as you stand beside him, your chin resting on his shoulder as he looks at you with an unimpressed expression, his eyebrow cocked.
“yeah ‘cause i totally believe ya’ kid.” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his bicep, fingers digging into the thick flesh. you feel the muscle tense and bulge beneath your palm and your smirk only deepens, you squeeze his arm just the tiniest bit before moving to jokingly bite the flesh.
“you’re insane.” chris laughs, moving his arm out of your grasp and wrapping it around your shoulders and the front of your neck, pulling you in front of him, your back flush against his chest. the movement and placement of his arm nearly around your throat has your core throbbing with desire and you can’t stop the whimper that spills from your mouth.
“oh you dirty thing, you like being choked like this, huh?” chris chuckles, the sound dark and menacing but so enticing, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. he moves his arms so that it’s pressed perfectly against the front of your throat, just barely squeezing.
“harder.” you whisper, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist and the other grabbing his bicep, squeezing tightly as you beg for him to choke you.
“like this?” he teases, slowly flexing his arm and tightening his grip around your throat, the pressure is dizzying and intoxicating. you can’t help but whine, craving more. craving the feeling of chris’ arm around your throat while burying himself deep inside you.
“need more.”
“yeah? how much more?” chris hums, grinding his hips against your ass, you can feel his cock, painfully stiff and heavy behind his jeans, the warmth radiating off the both of you is almost suffocating.
“if you don’t bend me over this counter soon, i’m gonna make you absolutely regret it.”
“you seem to forget that you don’t call the shots, sweetheart. i do and i think i’m gonna take my time until you remember your manners.” he murmurs, his voice demanding with easy control as he continues to hold you in place against while his free hand begins to wander in a downward motion from where it rested against your side. you let out a crude whine as the tips of his fingers brush beneath the waistband of your shorts, just above the top seam of your underwear and chris chuckles again.
“is that how we ask for what we want? where are your words sweet girl?” chris chastises, pushing his hand further beneath the front of your shorts, his fingers ghosting along your cunt, fingers barely touching you but leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. he can feel the heat pouring from you and he can feel your arousal seeping through the sheer material of your underwear, and god is it driving him crazy.
he smirks against the back of your head as he feels your hips buck and chase after his hand as he pulls away, knowing that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.
“c’mon baby, tell me what you want.” chris demands, his finger tracing back and forth along the hem line of your underwear, waiting for you to speak.
“chris, touch me. please.” you beg, voice broken and way beyond desperate, your body feigning for chris to touch you. you let out a sharp gasp when you feel the rough pad of your boyfriend’s calloused fingers begin to rub tight circles against your clit over the damp fabric of your thong. your throw your head back against your boyfriend, a high pitched moan falling from your lips as he keeps rubbing your bundle of nerves before pausing making you whine in detest. he uses his free hand to awkwardly yank your shorts and thong down to about mid-thigh before returning to his previous ministrations. this time using his middle and ring fingers to replace his thumb.
your hips move against his hand as if they’ve got a mind of their own and your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms and chris is preening before his reflection in the window above the sink. he’s mentally praising himself for working out consistently after seeing the way you’re all but drooling on and over his arms. he’s quick to push his fingers past the entrance of your sopping heat, quickly pistoning them in and out of you, the loud squelching and shlick shlick shlick that reverberates of the walls with each movement is music to chris’ ears. he tightens his bicep around your throat momentarily, the added sensation and restriction bringing you over the edge.
“fuck chris, i’m gonna-“ you cry out, cutting yourself off with a squeal as your walls clamp down around his fingers, your warm release coating the digits as he slows his pace, working you through your first orgasm.
“that’s it baby, let go for me.” chris murmurs against your cheek, panting softly as he drops his arm from around your throat, giving you room to breathe as he undoes his belt, quickly letting his pants and boxers pool around his ankles. his left palm wraps around his cock, fisting his length and using your cum that coated his fingers as lube as his other hand slides up your back, pressing between your shoulders and guiding you to bend over the edge of the sink.
“gotta be quick, they’ll be back soon.” chris grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sheathing himself in your cunt, your walls pulsing as they accommodate the sheer girth of your boyfriend while still relaxing from your last orgasm.
he wastes no time pulling out and thrusting back into you roughly and repeatedly, the tip of his cock rubbing against that one spot inside you that has you white-knuckling the edge of the counter, your jaw slack, and your head tipped forward, quiet and strained moans falling from your lips. chris grins from ear to ear at the sight of you falling apart so easily as you’re split open on his cock. he pulls out and leans forward, wrapping his arm around your throat yet again, and pulling you back up against, before using his other hand to guide himself back into the warmth of your cunt.
“god i love the way you feel wrapped around me like this, baby.” he pants, his cheek smushed against yours as he ruts in and out of you, you’re gasping and whining against the meaty flesh of his arm as your second orgasm begins to wash over you. chris feels your walls tighten around him and he picks up the pace.
“c’mon baby, touch yourself for me.” he guides, humming in approval as you begin languidly rubbing your clit, pushing yourself over the edge again, quickly triggering chris’ own release as you feel the warmth of his cum begin to flood inside you. chris’ body goes limp against yours for a moment as he catches his breath. the two of you are slow to pull yourselves together, silently basking in the afterglow of lust.
“when i get back, we’re gonna take a nice, long shower and then do that again because i’m nowhere near finished with this little kink of yours.” chris laughs, pulling you into a soft but possessive kiss and patting your ass as you walk away toward his room.
Matt’s chest heaves with soft gasps and hitched breaths, his pretty pink lips parted slightly and glistening with your saliva and his own. His hair is a mess atop his head and his glasses sit crooked on his nose from the kiss you’d shared just minutes prior.
He’s clutching onto the sheets beside his hips, knuckles already gone white, glazed over eyes glued to the way your hips move against his own. The sight of his dick glistening with your wetness and the way your pretty little pussy is stretched around his shaft is enough to make his face heat up.
The loud, wet squelches your pussy is making every time you slam down on his cock is pure filth—And the lewd noises coming out of your mouth threatens to unravel Matt for the third time tonight.
You’d already made him come once with your mouth and once with your hands. All because you wanted to “thank” him for helping you pass your exams.
And Matt—oh-so-naive Matt—didn’t think you’d actually start riding him. He was too sensitive for Christ’s sake. And well, you’d obviously thought about stopping when you saw the way his hips squirmed away from your hand rather than towards it after his second orgasm, but how could you have stopped when he was still hard as a rock even after coming twice?
Plus, your pussy was already craving Matt the moment you saw him in the campus library this morning with his blue striped shirt all buttoned up to the very top and his glasses perched so innocently on his perfect nose.
But it’s not like Matt’s complaining about you riding him though. Well, not really. He’s just too sensitive right now and he doesn’t know if he can handle the way your greedy pussy is squeezing and massaging his cock with your warm, wet walls.
Overstimulation claws at his core and his balls pulse and draw tight as his face scrunches up in both discomfort and immense pleasure. The pleasure he’s feeling is so great that it’s starting to feel painful—but in the best way possible.
"W-wait-- Oh, God-" Matt gasps out, his words dissolving into strings of whimpers and barely coherent pleas for you to stop and keep going at the same time. He can barely register the fact that his glasses are sliding down his nose due to the sheen of sweat covering his whole body.
A breathy moan leaves his lips when you start moving faster, his eyes rolling back briefly at the pleasure shooting up his spine. "F-fuck- You’re- you’re so good—mmhn-fu-fuck—i can’t-!" Matt babbles, a shaky hand reaching up to slide his glasses back up his nose so he can see the pretty expressions on your face more clearly.
And God, he shouldn’t have.
Because the look on your face broke the last bit of his composure and Matt was coming faster than he could even warn you, his hands landing on your hips to grip them tightly as his hips bucked desperately against yours.
You giggle breathlessly when you feel his warm cum flooding your insides and hear the whiny sounds falling from his lips as he tries to come down from his high. He thought you’d definitely stop now, but to Matt’s dismay, you don’t stop moving. Your pussy milk his poor overstimulated cock for all its worth as you chase after your own peak—and he doesn’t try to stop you.
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