You're on all fours, back arched deep as he fucked you from behind in a steady, punishing rhythm. The grip of his hands on your hips was tight, fingers digging into your skin while he drove into you over and over, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. You’d been taking it beautifully, moaning into the sheets, letting him control the pace. But tonight you wanted more.
Bracing your arms, you started pushing back against him, meeting every thrust with a roll of your hips. The second you started fucking him back, slamming your ass against his pelvis, taking him deeper, matching his rhythm, he let out a raw, broken groan. “Shit… baby,” he growled, voice thick with surprise and lust.
You didn’t stop. Every time he drove forward, you pushed back just as hard, fucking yourself on him like you couldn’t get enough. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder, filthier. He stilled for a moment, letting you work yourself on him, savoring the way you were eagerly bouncing back. He loved it.
You could feel it in how much harder he got inside you, in the way his fingers flexed on your hips like he was barely holding himself together. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “That’s it… fuck me back. Just like that.”
Encouraged, you kept pushing, grinding, and slamming back onto him, giving as good as you got. He quickly matched your energy, thrusting harder, pushing into you deeper, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder for leverage as the two of you moved together in a messy, desperate rhythm.
“God, I love when you fuck me back,” he groaned, leaning over you so his chest pressed against your back, breath hot on your neck. “You feel so fucking good like this.”
The two of you kept moving like that — frantic, sweaty, and perfectly in sync, until your legs started shaking and his thrusts turned erratic. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, holding you tight against him as he came hard, your own orgasm crashing over you while you kept pushing back, milking every last drop from him.
the position you have yourself in feels all wrong and the angle is, well, utterly embarrassing. you'd been the one to suggest this in the first place, well written smut online fogging your mind and forcing the request past your lips before you could think about the logistics.
he'd said yes, of course. kento's inability to deny you paired with you being too chicken to back out (plus not wanting to out of sheer curiosity), leaves you in your current predicament.
"I don't think it's rocket science, sweetheart." kento's lying flat on his back beneath you, head propped up on a pillow. being awfully patient despite your prolonged stalling. his fingertips draw the barest shapes on either side of your hips, tapping lightly to get you to move higher. your knees bracket his ribs, heat of your cunt burning into the firm ridges of his stomach. "it's just me. nothing to be shy about." his frame shifts just enough to get close, mouth brushing over yours. "you just sit there like you sit on my lap. and then you move."
"I am sitting." you grumble, settling a little lower, ass right up against the band of his slacks. "being on your lap is different."
it really isn't, but he just hums—hands smoothing up and down your sides, finally settling on your hips again. if he thinks looking at you the way he is currently helps, he's wrong. part of you just want to to just throw this idea to hell and take your usual seat, though with far less clothing than you both currently sport.
he's gotten buffer over the last couple months. beefy bi and triceps, chiseled abdomen rigid under where you're molten. what a waste it'd be to not rub yourself all over him. you're in completely uncharted territory. you'd think grinding on your boyfriend's abs would be easier than riding his cock, but the embarrassment you currently feel proves you wrong.
your hips cant forward then back in your first, tentative grind, exhale drawn out as though every breath would help to expel that nervous tension coiled deep in you. one after the other. in and out repeatedly.
it still remains as embarrassing as it was a minute ago, ridiculously enough. he's yours after all. your dignified, unshakeable nanami.
usually fucking you from behind, sideways (however he could get you, really) like it’s his government assigned duty, nanami. all yours...and here you are, shy about just getting off using his abs.
his fingers twitch against your hips, itching to help you out, but he bites back the urge. figures he'll let you work up that courage on your own.
"...this probably looks so silly."
"mm?" large, familiar hands slide upward- settling higher on your sides, fingertips cool against warm skin, "I promise that it doesn't," they coast under the hem of your shirt, spreading wide over the underside of your breasts. "you should see yourself from down here."
you bite the inside of your cheek keep your smile from spreading, letting your hips drag forward, just enough that your clit catches at the indent of a muscle. then backward in a similar motion. "what? you think I look good?" the sensation is a little dull through the fabric but good enough to warrant the continued rolling of your hips. the friction drags a shaky breath out of you, blood pooling hot under your skin. his stomach rises and falls with every breath, rigid plane shifting under you.
with how good it already feels, you figure applying just a little more pressure won't hurt. so you do, leaning close, hands bracing against his broad, firm shoulders for more leverage to rock your hips.
“very. don’t go overthinking it,” he murmurs, eyes flickering down to where you’re moving against him, “just use me.”
and that you do. your rhythm loses that tentative edge to it, speed picking up as you get more desperate. hips rolling, clit throbbing with every pass, soaked cotton catching right where it aches. a vicious ache blooms in your belly, a shaky moan drawn out of you in your building pleasure. "mm, kento.." every drag of your cunt over him leaves another sticky patch across his skin, shine of slick smearing across the hard cut of his abs.
"see? you're doing so well." his hands move low to plant on the curve of your ass over your panties, not at all taking over but guiding whenever he feels your pace begin to stagger. "that feels good, doesn't it?"
you can barely manage more than a breathy 'yeah', starting to enjoy this far more than you'd anticipated. but still, through the fabric is as dull as expected, beginning to cling uncomfortably.
which he notices, of course.
"here, let me.." one hand remains firm on your behind while the other slides between your thighs finger curling into the slick dampened gusset to drag it aside in one smooth, practiced motion. "does that feel better?"
the difference hits you like a breath of air after being underwater —immediate, raw. direct connection of your slick folds against his skin sending a hot zap right up your spine. it just feels so much better like this, incomparable to much else.
"kento,” you hiss, digging your nails into his shoulders, hips jerking forward too fast. “yeah, that’s—god, that’s so much better.”
your embarrassment wanes in the face of your pleasure, lips parting. now that you're comfortable he has no issue at all with guiding your movements on his own, heavy hands squeezing the fat of your ass. pulling you back and forth against his abdomen, letting you grind faster and harder down on him. just watching you, cock already properly hard and neglected behind you, far more caught up in seeing you finish like this.
the sounds filling the air get louder, lewder. squelches that would leave you embarrassed if you had the capacity for anything but bone deep arousal left. both your hands brace on his chest now, letting him get you off. despite the building ache in your thighs, stopping is the last thing you'd hope for. "oh—mm, kento. i'm gonna—oh my god—cum.."
“mhm, you are.” he says, almost under his breath. the words leave him breathless, strained. “keep going. make yourself cum on me. make yourself feel good.”
the ache has gone from something steadily building to a mean, insistent pressure that has your breathing coming fast, practically humping his abs at this point. his thumb—just the pad of it—presses down lightly on your clit mid-grind, just to add to the pressure already making you lose your mind.
and it hits just like that. sudden, white hot pleasure that has you bowing down into him, thumb still sweeping oh so gently over your clit as the other keeps you moving. the slick, sticky pool grows, spilling out over golden skin in a warm rush. he eases up the movement to not overstimulate you, thumb gently circling the sensitive bud to bring you back down.
your stay on his abdomen isn't long lasting after your orgasm. praise and his hands smoothing along your body prove to be the worst pairing when you're already worked up and horny out of your mind.
worse yet, meeting his already stiff cock about to burst through his slacks when you'd slid down to seat yourself on his lap had hijacked every other thought.
maybe you'd make it past 1 round of grinding next time.
author's note :: 𑣲⋆ princess nanami post as promised - repost from previous account <3
comments, likes and reblogs appreciated, thanks for reading!
a/n— My first Cody blurb, I need him so bad, had to whip this up rq.
Your boyfriend Cody, spent the entire day rehearsing his match and promos. You stood at ringside, watching on as his muscles flexed each time he moved. He was so fucking hot, and you couldn’t help but admire him. You needed him, but was in his element, you couldn’t distract him.
By the time Raw had began airing, he was out cutting a promo, the fans just as wild as you. Except, something else was wild for him. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you watched him pace in the ring, his neck tattoo you craved to lick on full display.
When the bell rang, he immediately got the upper hand, dishing out punishment on his opponent. Punishment you craved for your pussy. Maybe it was your ovulation—whatever it was, it had you feeling like you’d die without his dick inside you.
Cody won the match and the referee held his arm up in victory. Your core throbbed in anticipation as he made his way to the back, his steps deliberate. As soon as the door to the room opened, you pounced on him, your lips all over his face and lips.
“Baby, what’s gotten into you? I’m all sweaty,” Cody muttered into your kisses.
“I don’t care, I need you. Sweat and all, let it drip all over me, I don’t care, just fuck me. Please,” you pleaded.
His eyes darkened at your words, he could practically smell you dripping for him. “So fucking desperate for me, I’ll give you what you want.”
And that’s exactly what he did.
Cody had you bent over a chair, his gear ripped off by you and his hard cock buried inside you. Your panties were ripped and he slammed into you from behind, his cock stretching you out. You hoped the distant cheering from the fans masked your loud moans as he absolutely ravished you.
“This is what you wanted? Huh? To get fucked like a slut?”
You nodded frantically, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock as he angled into you even deeper. If it wasn’t for his grip on your curls, you would’ve toppled over.
He slapped your ass and you cried out. “Y-yes sir! This is what I wanted.”
You knew he was smirking behind you and in your last act of boldness, you pushed back against him, fucking yourself on his cock.
“That’s a good girl. You should see how your pussy’s just creaming on my dick.”
His words sent a ripple through you and your body convulsed, an intense orgasm hitting you like a truck.
“Good fucking girl,” he murmured, but he wasn’t finished with you.
He lifted and carried you to the couch in the corner of the room. A cry left your lips as he sank into your pussy once again, immediately finding your sweet spot. You drooled as he hovered over you—Cody was a greek god, one you would be happy to worship every single day. The sweat made his muscles glisten and he wrapped a large hand around your neck, making your pussy twitch in excitement.
Your body jolted as he slammed into your pussy and his grip around your neck tightened. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so wet, fucking perfect for me.
You held his dark gaze, wrapped your arms around his neck and grinding against him, meeting his thrusts. His sweat dripping all over you made you moan and you reached up, licking the tattoo on his neck.
“My dirty fucking girl,” he said, darkly.
One of his hands pressed against your abdomen, making you moan so loud, you knew anyone passing by would hear. “Feel how deep I am inside you? Only my cock can get that far. I fucking own you.”
“You own me,” you echoed, your nails now digging into his back.
“Cum on my cock, cum with me.”
With a loud cry, you squirted on his cock, soaking both him and the couch as he continued to pound into your aching pussy.
“Fucking hell, what a good girl just squirting for me like that.”
His orgasm followed immediately after and he pushed deep inside you, his cum filling your ovulating womb to the brim.
He leaned down and whispered in your ear, his thrusts slower and deeper. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant.”
You met Sukuna through Gojo, because of course you did. Gojo always had a way of dragging you into situations you had no business being in—like that house party in the heart of the city where the music thumped so hard the floor vibrated through your heels. You were supposed to be home by midnight, tucked into your suburban bed like the good girl everyone thought you were. But your crew? They knew better. They knew you liked the edge, the danger, the kind of men who made your mama’s church friends clutch their pearls.
And then there he was.
Sukuna leaned against a leather couch in the back room, two girls on either side of him like ornaments, but his eyes tracked you the second you walked in with Gojo. He didn’t smile. He didn’t have to. The power rolled off him in waves—expensive cologne, gold chains, and a gaze that peeled back every layer of your “sweet suburban princess” act.
“That’s her?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the bass, low and amused.
Gojo clapped you on the shoulder. “Don’t let the skirt fool you. She’s got a taste for trouble.”
You tilted your head, letting your ponytail sway, and gave him that soft smile that always made people underestimate you. “Hi.”
Sukuna’s lips curled. “Cute.”
That was two hours ago. Now the party had thinned out, and you were in his bedroom—his actual bedroom, because the man didn’t mess around. The door clicked shut behind you, and the air changed. Thick. Heavy.
You turned to face him, your pink babydoll dress riding up your thighs. It was short, lace-trimmed, with a plunging neckline that showed off the curve of your tits. Your heels—clear plastic strap-ons—made your legs look miles long. And your skin, rich brown and glowing under the dim gold light, was bare except for the thin strap of your thong, which you’d bought specifically for nights like this.
Sukuna didn’t say a word. He just stalked toward you, slow, deliberate, his pink hair falling over his forehead. He had a look on his face like he was about to tear into a meal. And you? You bit your lip, letting your lashes drop, playing the shy girl.
“I don’t usually do this,” you whispered, voice all honey.
He laughed. A low, rough chuckle that sent a shiver straight to your cunt.
“Yeah, Princess. I bet you don’t.”
His hand came up, grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. You gasped—half surprise, half pleasure—and he leaned down, mouth hovering over your ear.
“Gojo told me all about you. Sweet girl from the suburbs, hangs with the wrong crowd. Gets off on being bad. But you know what I love?” His tongue traced the shell of your ear. “Fake innocent girls. They always scream the loudest.”
You whimpered. Not a real sound—you wanted this, wanted him to break you open. But you let it slip anyway, because the act was part of the game.
He shoved you backward onto the bed. You bounced, skirt riding up, exposing the damp spot on your thong. Sukuna’s eyes dropped, and he grinned.
“Damn. Already wet, Princess? And I ain’t even touch you yet.”
You spread your legs just a little, letting him see. “Maybe I just… like the atmosphere.”
He unbuckled his belt, slow, the metal jingling. “Nah. You like being told what to do. You like being used.”
Your breath hitched. Because he was right, and he knew it.
He climbed onto the bed, knees on either side of your hips, and yanked down the bodice of your dress. Your tits spilled out, nipples hard, and he didn’t waste time. He leaned down and sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing until you arched your back and moaned—a real one, this time.
“Mmmph—fuck, ’kuna…”
“Mm. That’s it. Let me hear you.”
His hand slid down your stomach, under the lace of your thong, and two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning. You cried out, back bowing, as he pumped them in and out, curling against that spot that made your vision blur.
“So tight for a ‘good girl,’” he growled. “Bet your little church friends don’t know you like this. Bet they don’t know how you drip when a man tells you to beg.”
“Please—” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.
“Please what, Princess?” He pulled his fingers out, shiny with your wetness, and brought them to your mouth. “Clean ‘em.”
You opened your lips, tasting yourself on his fingers, salty and sweet. Your eyes stayed on his the whole time.
He smirked. “Good girl. Now get on your knees.”
You scrambled up, turning around, dropping to your knees on the plush carpet. You heard the zipper of his pants, the rustle of fabric, and then the heavy slap of his cock against his stomach. When you looked back, your mouth went dry.
He was thick. Veiny. The head flushed deep red, already slick with precum. He wrapped his hand around the base and tapped it against your cheek.
“Open up, Princess. Show me how a good girl sucks cock.”
You parted your lips, stuck out your tongue, and let him guide the head past your teeth. The taste hit you—salt, musk, pure male heat—and you moaned as you took him deeper. Your hands gripped his thighs, and you worked your mouth up and down, hollowing your cheeks, letting spit drip down your chin.
“Fuck—yeah, just like that,” he grunted, his hand in your hair, guiding your rhythm. “Look at you. Pretty little suburban princess, gagging on my dick. What would your mama say?”
You couldn’t answer. You were too busy taking him all the way, throat relaxing, tears pricking your eyes. But you didn’t stop. You let him fuck your face, his hips thrusting shallow, his balls slapping against your chin.
“Mm—sh-shit—” The half-finished sounds fell from his lips. “Gonna—you want it, Princess? You want me to—?”
You pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. “No. Not yet. I want you inside me.”
He hauled you up by the arm, bent you over the edge of the bed, and ripped your thong off. The fabric tore—you didn’t care. He pushed your upper body down, arching your back, your ass in the air. His hand came down on one cheek, a sharp slap that made you yelp.
“That’s for being greedy.”
Then he spread you open, and you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. He didn’t tease. He shoved in, all at once, a thick, brutal stretch that pulled a scream from your throat.
“Ah—fuck! ‘Kunaa—!”
“Yeah. Take it. Take all of it.”
He started to pound into you, his hips slapping against your ass, the sound wet and obscene. Skin on skin. The bed frame creaked. Your tits swung with every thrust, your nails digging into the duvet.
You couldn’t think. You could only feel—his cock hitting that spot deep inside, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his voice growling in your ear.
“This what you wanted, Princess? This what you came for? To get your tight little pussy wrecked by a plug?”
“Yes—yes—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
He leaned over, his chest against your back, and reached around to grab your tits, pinching your nipples. “Beg for it. Say my name.”
“Sukuna—Sukuna, please—I need—I’m gonna cum—”
“Not yet.” He pulled out abruptly, leaving you empty, trembling. You whined at the loss.
“Turn over.”
You flipped onto your back, legs open, pussy glistening. He crawled over you, positioned himself, and entered you again in one smooth motion. This time you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
Missionary. Eye contact. His face above yours, those dark eyes burning.
“Look at me when I fuck you, Princess.”
You nodded, unable to speak. He started a slower rhythm, grinding his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks through your whole body. He dipped his head and took your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and you bucked against him.
“Cum for me,” he said, his voice a command. “I can feel you throbbing. Let go.”
And you did. Your orgasm ripped through you, your back arching, your walls clenching around him, a scream tearing from your throat. He kept thrusting through it, drawing it out, fucking you through the aftershocks.
“That’s it. Good fucking girl.”
But he wasn’t done. He pulled out again, flipped you over onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up. His cock slid back in, wet with your cum, and he set a punishing pace.
“Gonna fill this ass up, Princess. Gonna—mm—fuck, so tight—can’t—sh-shit—”
He was close. You could hear it in his ragged breathing, in the way his grip tightened on your hips. He leaned forward, his chest on your back, and his hand snaked around to rub your clit.
“One more,” he growled. “One more for me.”
You were oversensitive, but his fingers on your clit pushed you over the edge again. You came with a broken cry, your whole body shaking.
Sukuna pulled out at the last second, his hand wrapping around his cock, a few rapid strokes. Then the first hot rope of cum splashed across your ass. Then another, and another, painting your brown skin white. He groaned, low and long, as he emptied himself onto you.
For a moment, the only sound was your harsh breathing. Then he flopped down beside you, arm over his eyes.
After a second, he said, “You ain’t sweet at all, Princess.”
You smiled, still catching your breath, your ass sticky with his cum.
“Nobody has to know.”
He snorted. “Oh, Gojo knows. He knew exactly what he was dropping off.”
You turned your head to look at him, your mascara smudged, your lipstick wrecked. “And you? You gonna tell?”
He reached over, grabbed your chin, and kissed you hard—a possessive, tongue-twisting kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded.
“Nah. I think I’m gonna keep you.”
You shivered, and not from the cold. Because you knew, right then, that you’d let him.
AN | this is part four to the key west series. 𓇼🪼🪸🤍
KEYWEST!VERSE. | WC: 7K.
The metallic, melodic jingle of door chimes over Bob Marley’s Is This Love alerts you of the arrival of a new customer.
Preoccupied with a cup of cool, fresh fruit behind the counter of the empty surf shack, you quickly drop the plastic fork back in the container and tuck the snack under the surface in preparation to assist Sunburnt’s visitor. You’re wiping the condensation dripping off your fingers on the skin of your outer thighs just under your denim shorts when you suddenly pause, straightening up a little when you realize who it is.
It’s a greeting and a question, “Mia.”
She’s not looking at you, but she offers you a tight lipped smile as she curiously glances around the shop she’s never been inside before. “Hi.”
“Can I… help you with something?”
She finally peels her eyes away from scoping out your humble little spot and approaches you at the counter, disregarding your question entirely, “how’ve you been?”
You blink a few times, your guard rising as it often does around her but even more so now considering you now know what she fed you the last time you two spoke was a lie that fueled a heated blow-up between you and Roman. A lie that, in hindsight, exposed some wounds that you thought were healed. Some bruises on your skin that still hurt if you press hard enough.
How’ve you been?
If she were your therapist, you’d tell her you’d started avoiding that intersection again. That those dreams you’ve had since the miscarriage of that infant in the flower field have been increasing in frequency, only now the sky fades from a bright blue to a gloomy grey to open the gates for a sudden downpour; the flowers wilt, it gets windy, and it’s suddenly night. The field is absent of any cars but like clockwork, you wake with a jolt in the middle of the night at the blare of a horn and the blinding glare of headlights.
It’s gotten so bad, Roman’s taken note of it on the nights you allow him to stay over.
Each time it happens, he hesitates on how to properly comfort you. It’s not in his toolkit, but he tries nonetheless. He tells you how it was just a nightmare in a mutter and presses you back into his chest until his grounding embrace stabilizes your galloping heart rate to a pace as serene as the ocean water lapping onto the shore just outside the windows. In the rare instances that it isn’t enough, now that she’s old enough, he scoops a sleepy Lorelei out of her crib and nestles her in between the two of you in your bed and it almost always does the trick. The feel of her, the smell of her.
His concerns about leaving you on your own during this rough patch, despite your adamant stance that you’re fine and everything’s okay, results in the private jet sent to fly you out to attend Wrestlemania 37 weekend.
A low-quality video due to distance taken by a fan from down below captures you up above through the glass of one of the stadium’s suites with Lorelei on your hip as you watch his match, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones hugging her ears in what would be the public’s first ever sighting of your daughter.
You two make sure to keep a tight lid on what you share with the public. Ever since the dilemma with Anastasia, Mia, and the Italy trip, you find yourself holding the things you cherish far closer to your chest than you used to. Which, in tandem with Roman’s strict rule that the less the public sees of her face the less she’ll be recognized and approached, leads to a plethora of strategic measures whenever you’re outside of safe confinements of Key West: top shelf security, the best chauffeurs money can buy that have the most efficient entrances and exits to hotels and restaurants memorized by heart to bar paparazzi, and carefully curated private social media accounts that consists strictly of your close friends and family.
You couldn’t care less, but this is a professional establishment and that’s the manner in which you’ll keep it, “I’m fine. How are you?”
How is she?
If you were her therapist, she’d tell you she’s hanging on by a thread. A thread that stretches thinner and thinner, threatening to snap with every invasive memory of the live recording she received of you two on the security system before she slammed the laptop shut with shaky fingers.
He’d been telling her to stop making something out of nothing for so long, that nothing’s going on between you and him. That the reason she even keeps bringing up this feeling she has that something’s going on is just her wanting to start shit because she loves drama. She’s being crazy and insecure. That you were never like this.
A cheap shot that accomplishes exactly what he wants in the moment— resolution.
You’re not acting like Capri. Act like Capri.
It’s sick and twisted that since he always deprives her of his attention after she questions him and showers her with it when she treats him like she never did, she subconsciously equates being tolerant to earning his love.
Her friends tell her that he doesn’t deserve her, but they don’t know him like she does. They don’t know that the lows might be low, but the highs are so high, it makes everything worthwhile; the tears as he sleeps, the solitude as he’s out doing whatever at whatever ungodly hour.
Because when it’s good and he’s at his best, which incidentally are the times you’re paying him dust, he waters her like she’s the world’s last standing flower. Like an endangered national treasure; such expensive gifts, the time she asks for, earth-shattering orgasms that do nothing but sink her deeper into this bottomless pit. It keeps her under his hypnosis.
Maybe she’d have it within herself to crawl out of it with her dignity still intact if only she received a sliver of attention in her integral adolescence. If her father spent more time with her and less time dominating the company to put the family on the map, all while her mother was busy developing an expensive addiction to cope with his infidelity on the road.
Growing up with everything she could ever materially want but none of what she emotionally needed makes it difficult to peel her fingers away from the thorns that draw blood. He’s a shiny toy that she’ll have by any mean necessary because all she’s ever used to is getting her way.
Now that she’s seen the footage, she sees there’s just one thing standing in it.
You.
Mia shrugs mindlessly, “could be better. It’s why I came by, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
You remain silent, waiting for her to continue as your sight follows the phone she pulls from her back pocket.
“Scratch that. I wanted to show you something.”
You assume she’s here to perhaps pick up some items on Roman’s behalf. Maybe show you a picture of the brand of sex wax he uses for his board that he may be running low on. You were not prepared for the video of Roman doing you in on the sofa that plays when she turns her phone around to face you.
A slow, deep sense of violation settles within you, immediately followed by inklings of burning shame and the embarrassment of getting caught red-handed.
The second you purse your lips to try and form a syllable, she simply shakes her head, shutting you up and sliding the phone back into her pocket. “I’ve tried to be as civil as possible with you. I really, really have. But at this point, I feel like my kindness is being taken for weakness. I love him… and I want us to work. I just needed you to let us, and now I know you will.”
You’re lost, but she keeps going.
“You will. Because if you don’t, I’m sending that tape to my team and they’re gonna leak it to any and every publication that’ll listen. TMZ would drop a bag for that but I might just do it for free the way you’ve been playing with me. It’ll globetrot overnight. You don’t want that, because what will your daughter think of her mom when she gets older and realizes this little tape is what her mother is known for? Imagine how the other kids will treat her.”
Your body heats up impossibly hot, your brows pulling tight over your eyes at the threat of such an intimate video being leaked if you don’t cut off what you and Roman have going on. “Are you serious?”
To keep up the facade that she’s none the wiser, she hadn’t mentioned a peep to Roman. You cutting him off after she confronted him about what she saw would be to much of a tell for him to believe you came to that conclusion on your own. She’d told him she was leaving for an out-of-town meeting with some investors for the athleisure brand she’s been building but flew to Dallas to her family’s empty estate a few days after she saw the footage. There, she had the freedom to really feel the extent of her emotions, to let it out. And, to plot.
This solves everyone’s problem. It’ll stop all of this unhealthy back and forth and help everyone finally move on, all while getting you out the picture. Once and for all. She shakes her head and almost sounds earnest, “I really didn’t want it to come to this, I’m sorry.”
You’re speechless as your eyes dart all over her features. She definitely has the means to do so. Her connections in Hollywood run deep. The video is clear enough to reveal both of your identities and he’s too big of a star for the tabloids to pay the story dust. His status as a sex symbol doesn’t help one bit and that’s not even mentioning the salacious nature of the tape. Rumored to be in a longtime relationship and he’s caught fucking his baby mother on camera? It would run the numbers up.
Once you get the sense that you’re in between a rock and a hard place, you poke holes in her logic to persuade her into reconsidering this entire ploy. “How am I supposed to… he’s not gonna just let it end.”
“He’s not holding a gun to your head. This doesn’t happen if the door is completely closed. Close the door. Completely. Come up with a reason and make it believable.” She plucks a tiny license plate key chain off the small rotator of trinkets for tourists on the counter, tosses a crisp ten dollar bill on the counter, and makes her way out.
The sun reflects off the glass door as Mia pulls it open before she turns toward you one final time, “and if by some chance any of this gets back to him, I’m pressing that red button. Do what’s right.”
.
“Finish your cup.”
Summer’s in full effect and the air conditioning in the parlor is a godsend compared to the smothering humidity outside today. After a long walk on the beach with a waddling Lorelei between you, Roman decided it’s been a while since the last time he’d taken you two to get some ice cream.
Across the booth from him with Lorelei at the end in a highchair, you poke and prod at the frozen swells in your bowl with your spoon, “I don’t like it.”
His low voice rumbles as your baby smacks on her tiny portion, “you love salted caramel.”
He stares at you when you don't say anything and sighs before swapping your cup with his. He hates salted caramel.
It’s difficult for you to pretend like Mia’s ultimatum hasn’t been silently weighing on your shoulders. It’s even more so to pretend like everything will ever be the same again between you and the man you’re sitting before after this. You just know it.
She put you in an impossible position.
If you don’t slam the door on this, you’ll be exposed on film to the entire world in a misogynistic society that’s primed to lunge and disparage any woman that dares to participate in the act of sex while sparing nothing but energized pats on the shoulder of the man involved.
If you do slam the door on this, you will lose the love of your life— which is equally as devastating, if not more.
The only thing that tips the scale is the fact that it’s not just about you anymore. It hasn’t been since the day you found out you were pregnant with Lorelei. Every decision you’ve made since you saw her on your ultrasound has been filtered through how it will also impact her. How it’ll effect her. How it’ll benefit her. How it won’t.
Whether Mia was just fear mongering or not, she didn’t lie. What will she think of you when she gets older and she can’t escape what made her mom’s name? Is that the type of ammo you’re willing to give cruel ass kids? This world is small, but this island is so much smaller. Stains on figures as big as you two are don’t just disappear.
Being considered is the greatest form of love, and it’s just that more potent since you know exactly how it feels to be on the receiving end of its absence from a parent.
You didn’t have anything to your name growing up but the letters. You had a small family of two, your aunt Yvette and your cousin Namina. As kids, the two of you spent humid summers nights on the island chasing fireflies with mason jars in the grassy backyard and that was enough. After the sudden passing of your father, your mother was so struck by grief that she sent you off to her sister’s when you were ten and left the country for some self-discovery journey she’s still on. The last you heard of her from aunt Yvette, she was in Barbados.
You haven’t seen her since, and you don’t want to.
That’s not how you want your daughter to feel about you. She should never have to question how much her mother loved and considered her like you do yours. You don’t want to make that same mistake.
That doesn’t make this any easier because the implications of him and Mia potentially becoming an actual couple after all this is so nauseating it makes you sick to your stomach. What if they go all the way? What if they get married? What if they have a family? What if.
“The matter with you?”
You glare at your cup, “I’m fine.”
“Don’t do that girl shit with me. I asked you what’s wrong.”
Now that you think of it, breaking this to him in public out of all places is a better call than in the privacy of your own home. If you know him like you think you do, he’s, without a shadow of a doubt, going to lose his shit when you open your mouth. Doing it in the presence of the scattered few in this parlor might encourage him to keep his composure.
You play with the frozen milk and cookies with your spoon as you recall Mrs. Wallace, Vernon’s wife, stopping by Sunburnt and chit chatting with you during check-out— her warm southern charm bleeding through as she rattled off every little thing orbiting around her sun recently: her visiting grandchildren from Seattle, Younes being let go from Green Turtle, this summer’s projected record-breaking heat, and the blueberry pie she’d made just last weekend.
When you rewinded to ask her for more details about Younes’ firing, you couldn’t help the discerning sense of familiarity that overcame you. The timing of it all, the scapegoat, the pattern.
Come up with a reason and make it believable.
As disappointed as you genuinely are in him, the information Mrs. Wallace told you is also the perfect excuse for what you need to do.
Your voice is low, “I heard they found Vernon’s boat.”
He pauses for a second, his stare blank. When he mutters, disinterest is written all over it, “did they?”
You shake your head and scoff lowly, “you’re unbelievable.”
You know him. You know Younes defying the status quo by taking you out like this entire island doesn’t know you’re off limits is what did it. And if it wasn’t him, it’d be the next man. This is just what Roman does. It’s how he maintains control. He’s done shit like this since you’ve met him.
He throws rocks and then hides his hand. “What are you talking about?”
You look behind you, your eyes sweeping over the sparse pastel parlor to make sure no one’s close enough to eavesdrop in this tiny town where everyone knows everyone. Quietly, “I’m talking about the fact that nothing ever changes with you. You get upset with me for stringing you along and then show me why that’s all I should ever do. Things like this are exactly why we called it off, and now you’re even involving the livelihood of innocent people. That’s what I’m talking about.”
He pushes his empty cup to the side of the table and casually stretches his jaw as Lorelei coos, “that had nothing to do with me. I was with you the night they said it was stolen.”
“Really? Then where were you when I woke up in the middle of that night?”
His alibi crumbling like sand between his fingers renders him silent. You two went round for round until you were whining about being sore and overstimulated that night. He swore you were down for the count when you fell asleep before he decided to take that little trip to the dock with Jimmy and Jey.
When he realizes you’ve got him, he shrugs like he doesn't understand why this is a big deal in the first place and moves the goalpost, “he got it back in one piece.”
You shake your head and drawl, “that’s not the point. The point is after all this time… you’re still the same.”
He catches your drift and his demeanor gradually fades from the passiveness that was just present, “what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re stagnant, and our relationship is hurting other people now too. People that don’t deserve it.”
To distract himself from the blaze starting in his chest at what you’re insinuating, his eyes casually breeze over the locals inside the parlor. Hurting other people? Fuck other people. Who’s he hurting? Vernon? Vernon’s boat was arguably in better condition under his care than Vernon’s. You don’t give a fuck about Vernon or his boat. This is about Younes. You’re upset that he fucked him over because you actually do like his weak ass, you just don’t want to say it out loud.
You don’t have to. He will. “People like Vernon? Or people like Younes?”
You play with your fingers under the table and sigh at the conclusion you knew he was going to jump to, “Roman, I don’t want to fight.”
“Answer my question.”
You look into his eyes and hope he can see how earnest you’re being, “I told you I’m not seeing him again, don’t make this out to be something it’s not. I’m talking about Ver—”
“So two weeks ago when I asked you if we should end this, you said no but a boat that goes missing for forty-eight hours tops and gets returned in mint condition suddenly has you changing your mind? And you want me to believe this has nothing to do with Younes?”
“Not in the way you’re assuming, Roman. You can’t… control yourself and I just don’t want blood on my hands. I don’t want to be the reason the way I’m the reason right now. What if something went wrong when you… hot-wired the boat or whatever you did? They catch live seafood for the restaurant with that boat. That’s how they make their living. What then?”
Everything else that counts, you destroyed. Don’t throw that in my face like I’m keeping us apart over nothing. Don’t minimize your part to make me look like the bad guy. You fucked that up with your bare hands.
Fuck.
You two were so close, so close he could practically taste it. He was chipping away at your resolve of keeping you two apart, he fucking knows it. He knows how your heart beats. This is how it’s supposed to be, just the three of you. Walks on the beach. Ice cream with Lorelei at the parlor. Your giggle when he bench presses you when you stroll into the home gym to tell him dinner’s ready. When you’re fussing at him and when you’re coming on him. Whenever and wherever.
Was he just supposed to let another man think it’s supposed to be any different? Over his dead body.
He tightens his jaw when you pipe up to penetrate the silence that settles, “I know what this means. What you have going on, and I understand. I can’t be upset or mad at it.”
“You’re not making any fucking sense Capri. You’re not making sense.”
His outburst at the conclusion you’re drawing captures the eyes of patrons at a table nearby and you offset it by clearing your throat and readjusting your posture until they look away. When they do, you peer out the window into the sunlight shimmering on the surface of the blue sea out in the distance. One singular question slicing you clean open, “so it’s over? You’re done with me?”
It’s what you need him to believe, so you press your elbow on the table and place your mouth against your fist, too weak to look him in the eye as you send the final blow. “We can still be frie—”
Before you can finish stomping on his heart, he’s sliding out the booth and tossing a wad of cash on the table from his pocket before pulling Lorelei out the highchair and walking out the parlor.
You wipe away the beads of tears at your lashes as you watch him tuck her into her carseat from the window for a few moments before gathering all of your cups and plastic spoons, tossing it into the trash, and sniffling as you silently make your way to the car.
.
For the first time ever, Roman apologizes.
A real, verbal apology. He doesn’t try to make it up to you by never mentioning it again and making a grand gesture like sending extravagant gifts to the house instead like he usually does, even though a bouquet of baby pink hibiscus flowers littered with white baby breath does accompany him at your porch this time around. The type he always tells you to stop plucking from the neighbors yard and sticking behind the crevice of your ear before they call the cops.
He doesn’t do shit like this. He’s uncomfortable as fuck, but he swallows his pride and apologizes because he knows you two have never been as close to reconciling as you just were. He’s never been as close as he just was to getting you back, getting his family back. And since you guys were so close, maybe if he does something like this, it’ll make up for his fuck up.
When you open the door, he swears to you that he’ll work on it. That you’re right, that he wouldn’t have to do shit like that if you just took him back in the first place but that it’s something he’ll work on if it means having you in his life. That he’ll even buy Vernon and Mrs. Wallace a new boat for their restaurant if you want.
Your heart swelling and stomach tightening at the gesture and his effort, you talk to him for what feels like hours on the dark porch lit up by the golden lamp hanging on the exterior wall. It’s a dance. An angsty push and pull where you maintain the front that you don’t want this anymore because it’s what’s best, even though the truth is being kept apart against your will has done nothing but made you wish you’d just taken him back when it was still an option.
Not only does the apology fall on deaf ears, it also ends with you limiting his impromptu visits to the house by reinstating the original custody agreement.
It’s too much. Him taking strides he’s never taken. His hair slicked back in a high bun, his shirt straining around his chest and the biceps leading down the arm grasping the flowers— faint bags under dark almond eyes. If he’s anything, it’s persistent. There’s only so much you can take before you lose willpower and let him back in. It’s also only so long until he realizes the reason you claim you’re keeping him away from you is a bunch of bullshit.
However, things take a sharp turn when you cut his access to your security system.
One of your biggest unanswered questions in this entire ordeal was how Mia even got her hands on that recording. There were the typical hallmarks of security system footage on the video from the timestamps to the quality when she showed it to you, but you know she definitely doesn’t have access. At least not directly. But you know Roman does on his devices and she’s does have access to those. And quite frankly, you’re not comfortable with the possibility of you nor your child being monitored in your own home without your knowledge any further than you already have been. That’s not flying.
For Roman, it’s the nail in the coffin.
You went on two dates with ole boy, you brought him to the house, you cut Roman off over what happened to Vernon’s boat which is coincidentally what got him fired, you weren’t having any of Roman’s attempts to make it right with you, you’re forcing him to respect the custody agreement which sounds like you’re making sure he doesn’t pop up at the house outside of when you’re expecting him— and now you’re cutting off his access to the security camera?
This has ‘you cut him loose because you and Younes are a thing now and you want to be able to slip him in and out of the house without his knowledge’ written all over it. All over it.
And it’s a devastating final blow to his ego.
.
It starts with sparse sightings in public.
Distant, grainy paparazzi shots captured at night, only lit up by the yellow streetlight of the sidewalk as they exit whatever building they’re leaving and make their way into his Camaro.
Sometimes distanced, with him walking in front of her. When she senses the paps and he doesn’t care enough to fight it, their hands intertwined. She can’t help the happiness that exudes her when he doesn't fight it.
Mia keeps her finger on the pulse of social media narratives on their relationship. Which is why the peak of the speculation sparked by their most recent pap shots, since there were sightings of you and him during Wrestlemania weekend, is when she soft-launches him on her instagram story with a coy, faceless picture of them lounging poolside as Future’s I Won plays over the post. He’s shirtless and belly down with a 49ers baseball cap tossed over the side of his face to block the sun, his arm tossed over her waist— but the internet would recognize that tribal sleeve anywhere.
From that point forward, she quietly correct narratives left and right. Whenever rumors of a split circulate on twitter because they haven’t been spotted in a while, she’ll include a nondescript picture of him in her next photo dump to kill the noise. When Roman likes a picture of you and throws the timeline in a tizzy, she’ll repost a subtle quote on her instagram story implying everyone involved has moved on and the internet should too.
When the tiktok deepdives into the niche saga that is you, her, and him pop up on her for-you page, the ones including the times Roman has embarrassed her in the past, she’ll like a comment left that’s defending her. One that states people in the comment section don’t know the full story, that every relationship has its ups and downs, that people calling her every name in the book are only upset because she ended up with Roman and not the person they wanted it to be.
Casacoco’s launch party, Mia’s athleisure brand, marks the first time the two attend a public event as a couple.
The line designed to appeal to the Alo and Lululemon pilates princess base is held inside an industrial space. In clean, small script inside expresso martini’s, ground coffee powder neatly spells out the brand name. The letters are cleverly embroidered everywhere: on the napkins, on the kiosk of the photobooth meant to encourage social media posts after the event, on the pastel yoga balls and other gym props set as decor, on the brown and baby pink PR gift bags.
Chattering influencers roam under framed minimalistic editorial shoots of her that lean into sexuality on the the brick walls of the large, dark room; her figure lightly oiled-up to imitate sweat in a variety of the sets of leggings, biker shorts, sports bras, tank tops and panties. All of which are zoomed-in pictures of her against a solid background as she stretches her body into a range of yoga poses.
It’s not his scene. The entire night, Mia floats through the room to kiss cheeks and hug attendees with her hand behind her, her fingers intertwined with his just to make sure his back doesn't leave an imprint on the wall. Her guests try their best to focus on chit chatting with her but it’s hard to ignore the aloof but alluring man engulfing her frame behind her as he nurses his drink.
All things considered, she’s on the top of the world right now. The site went live this morning and they sold out of their inventory in two hours, the waitlist is full, the party is a hit, and Roman chose to join her. To be here. Mia, Anastasia, and Roman take a couple of pictures in the photobooth and it feels like a full circle moment. A wink from the universe for all the bullshit she’s had to withstand. It feels like a victory lap.
While she and Anastasia are talking to the brand’s Chief Marketing Officer on the other side of the room, his phone starts ringing in the pocket of his pressed slacks. When your name flashes on the caller ID, he sets his glass down on the bar he’s by and makes his way toward the door leading to the restroom where it’s quiet. He pushes the door open at the same time he swipes on the screen and presses it to his ear.
“Roman?”
He tucks his hand into his pocket and glances at the floor, “yea.”
“Lorelei’s not feeling well. I think she’s got a stomach bug.”
“You’re at the hospital?”
“No. Her cough is persistent and I don’t like that but other than that, she’s responding to the medicine. Her fever’s gone down since.”
Mia pushes the door open with a soft baby? But shuts her mouth when she realizes he’s on a call. You hear this, but he doesn’t react— far more concerned with the news of a sick Lori, “you need me there?”
“Where are you?”
Mia’s interest, unaware of the context, piques. She walks farther into the restroom and slinks herself around his arm, her eyes on the name written on the caller ID.
“L.A. Mia’s thing, but I can take a jet.”
On the other side of the line, you pause. She’s getting better. Maybe if she was still as under the weather as she was earlier, you’d encourage him to fly back, but she’s getting better. Also, you heard Mia’s voice. You don’t want to add more fuel to an already scorching fire by pulling him out of her event on her big day, “um, no. She’s okay. I’ll take her to the E.R and call if she gets any worse though. I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”
Something tells him to press further. “... FaceTime me.”
After the press of a button, he and Mia watch as the camera flips to show a sleeping Lorelei burrowed in your arm as you sit in the rocking chair of her dim nursery, her cheek smushed against the swell of your chest. Her little nose is kissed a flushed shade of pink and she looks defeated, even as she rests. Your voice is hushed, “She’s been like this all day.”
He presses on the brakes so quickly it gives everyone present whiplash. His voice is laced with venom, “all day? Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
“I was busy tending to her, Roman. I was gonna call you later.”
“A phone call takes one second. You’d be livid with me if I waited the entire day to tell you she was sick. She’s my fucking kid too, Capri.”
The hush that falls over like a blanket is tense, and it’s followed by Mia quietly unwrapping herself from his side to give him a moment to breathe. There’s been a lot of change recently. Too much, too quickly. Many of those being revoked privileges that allowed him see Lorelei as often as he pleases. You’ve never been this strict with him, and it’s frustrating. You’re empathetic enough to see that, so you remain still, continuing to rock your baby back and forth.
A deep breath huffs through his nose, “call me if shit changes man. I’ll be there.”
He hangs up the phone and leans his back against the line of sinks with both hands on the surface, his head tossed back in a moment of decompression.
“Was that necessary?”
His eyes shut, “I’ll ask for your input when I need it.”
Her kitten heels click against the tiles as she smacks her lips and gets close enough to run her hands up and down his torso, “don’t be rude. She’s prioritizing Lori, she’s just being a good mom. Plus my niece always gets those tummy bugs. She’s gonna be fine.”
You are a good mom. That, she can’t take from you. If you weren’t, you would’ve made a very selfish decision with the ultimatum she gave you but you didn’t. You did the right thing for not only your child, but for everyone involved. She knows it wasn’t the best or even the right way to go about it but it had to end. The back and forth was torture, but it’s even more fucked up to keep everyone in purgatory when it’s clear that you know what you want and don’t want. You don’t want him and you know it but you just play with his feelings. You’re just as cruel as she can be.
All of that can be pushed to the side now, though. Because she’s not keeping score but if she were, you might’ve won a battle here and there throughout the years but she just won the war.
He’s quietly smoldering, his eyes low and jaw set as her hand caresses the firm bulges and crevices straining the fabric of his polo. To help him get rid of the pressure tightening his shoulders and tugging on the tip of his brows, she plants one, two, three pecks onto his lips as she slowly and blindly fumbles with the belt buckle of his slacks, sinking to her knees with her eyes glued to his.
.
“All better!” Dr. Emerson sings when you finish sticking the small Doc McStuffin’s themed bandaid over Lorelei’s injection site. She wailed and squirmed so adamantly after her shots, she made it nearly impossible for the doctor to do it on her own during the routine check up.
Thankfully, she fully recovered from the flu that ransacked her a couple of days ago. You tried your best to convince Roman that you were sure she’d be fine in an effort to not ruffle any feathers with Mia, but the truth is you didn’t know a damn thing. It was the first time she was anything other than perfectly fine and it gave you the scare of a lifetime, but you had to bear that quietly. The night you called him, you didn’t sleep at all. You got a cup of coffee and migrated from hovering over her crib as she slept to the living room sofa on a loop until the sun came up. Both because you know what would be awaiting you if you fell asleep, and because you couldn’t bear the thought of this baby slipping through your fingers too.
Dr. Emerson, a dual-certified obstetrician who’s covering for pediatrics today, types away at her laptop with a faint smile on her face as she intermittently watches your pouty girl as she clings onto your abdomen. She’s been your OB your entire life. She monitored your entire pregnancy with Lorelei and your first pregnancy for the sixteen weeks it lasted prior to the car accident. She also happened to be present in the halls of the emergency room when you were wheeled in by the paramedics the night of the collision. The E.R was understaffed that night and they needed all hands on deck. You’ve been a patient of hers since you were eighteen and she didn’t even recognize you because of the sheer amount of blood, but she recognized your voice and your pleas for your boyfriend. For her to please call your boyfriend.
She helped save your life that night.
“Such a clingy girl.”
You smile, the paper crinkling under as you readjust her in your lap on top of the exam table. “She’s been like that recently.”
Dr. Emerson finalizes her notes and speaks offhandedly, “you know, there’s an old wives tale about a baby actively engaged or cuddly with a woman’s belly being an early sign of pregnancy.”
You huff out a chuckle through your nose and slightly wiggle the index finger Lorelei has her little fist wrapped around to pacify her. Only when Dr. Emerson looks back up at you two to let you know the general date of when they can expect another visit from Lori a couple moments later, your smile is shrinking— a thin film of unease left in its trail.
Her expression adapts to adopt one far more diplomatic as decades of experience kicks in like an awakened sleeper agent, swiftly switching gears back into her primary practice. “Are you still talking your birth control pills?”
The last several weeks have been so distressing, you haven’t had the time to sit and mull over the timing of your late period. However, your current peace of mind is the fact that the former has been so taxing on you and your body, it just might be responsible for the latter. “Yes, but I’m definitely late now that I think about it.”
“Do you want to check?”
No.
Panicked. “Yes.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll order a urine sample before we jump to any conclusions.”
When she leaves, the room becomes a lot more sterile and fluorescent than you remember it being, the scent of alcoholic disinfectant discernible. You can’t be pregnant. The thought of how difficult it’d be to handle Lorelei and a newborn without any help during nights is so debilitating you don’t even want to imagine it. And Mia. Shit. She’s already feels a way towards you because you and him were sleeping together during their situation, but him getting you pregnant? Again.
Once you submit the sample and get your vitals checked, you’re running on auto pilot. Like when you’ve made it home after zoning out during the drive and you wonder if all those lights you passed were really green or if you ran a red somewhere in the middle.
Dr. Emerson returns and takes a seat on her rolling stool, “alright, Capri. Your labs do seem to confirm that you are pregnant. Based on the date of your most recent menstruation, you look to be right around the 3-4 week mark. So, very early.”
Your stomach plummets, the pulse of your heart faintly audible in the tunnels of your warm ears as you shake your head. “I just… I’m on my pills. On the rare instances I miss it, I take a plan B.”
She nods understandingly, “If you miss your birth control pill one time too often, which is a hormonal contraceptive meant to bar ovulation, it can trigger ovulation back on. The fine print with The Morning After pill that many people aren’t aware of is if you’re already ovulating again when you take it, the plan B is completely ineffective. You’re essentially just popping a skittle.”
“Another thing I want to talk to you about is your blood pressure. It’s way higher than I would like. It’s not considered gestational hypertension unless it show up after the 20 week mark, but this could easily snowball into preeclampsia later into the pregnancy if we’re not careful. We’ll continue to monitor you to see if it’s temporary or consistent before diagnosing it but in the mean time, stay hydrated, limit your sodium intake, and most importantly, moderate your stress the best you can.”
You’ve got that thousand yard stare in your eye. She’s talking, but you’re not hearing her. She drones on and on until the words just start sounding like an incoherent stream of consciousness to you. You don’t know where one ends and the next begins but you nod like you’re following.
Dr. Emerson’s professionalism takes a backseat for a second for her empathy to pierces the veil, “you have options, Capri. You’re still well within the window to exercise termination or adoption if that’s what you want. Along with your prenatals, I’ll send over some pamphlets for you to take home that have everything you need to know about every option available. Think about it and if that’s something you want to explore, we’ll talk more in depth about the next steps at your next appointment.”
The glide of your Bronco’s wheels over road pavement and Lorelei playing with the toys hanging down the arch of her carseat are the only things that penetrate the silence of the drive home. You’re so detached, you don’t even ruminate anything past the fact that nobody can know. Not even Roman. At least not right now. Not until you know what you’re going to do. You don’t even know if this is a situation you want to bring another baby into, but especially not right now when things are so sensitive. The reason why you complied with Mia’s ultimatum is Lorelei, but it’s not lost on you that one of the reasons why you told Roman that he shouldn’t come check on her when she was sick was because you didn’t want Mia thinking you were using her as a pawn during her big day.
The irony isn’t lost on you, because that’s not prioritizing your child and her wellbeing. That’s not being a good parent. Are you even a good parent? Why would you want to add another baby to this?
You just drive until you see the familiar palm trees at your yard and pull into the driveway. You pull her out of her carseat and are walking behind her as she uses her palms and knees to slowly climb up the porch stairs when you spot a medium sized package at your welcome mat. You don’t remember ordering anything recently but you pick it up anyway and unlock the door.
At your kitchen island, you rip the package open to reveal a baby pink box. Under the wrapping tissue lies a variety of apparel: a grey sweatshirt, black leggings, white tank tops and socks, two-piece baby pink mini shorts and sports bras, all of which are adorned with a small ‘casacoco’ sewn somewhere on the fabric.
Lying neatly in the center is a small card that reads, ‘enjoy. — mia. ᥫ᭡’
Three sleepy blinks of your lashes reveals the blurry clock on the nightstand once a pair of wandering hands wake you from your slumber.
6:25 AM.
The lace curtains on the blind-less window barely acts as a barrier to the deep blue gradient engulfing the room before dawn.
Your back lies nestled into Roman’s heated chest, his burly frame pressed up against yours as his hand roams underneath the duvet.
Easter weekend is always a family affair at Nona’s house. Roman’s mother makes an annual tradition out of inviting the entire family over to her house and organizing the most whimsical weekend for everyone involved on one of her favorite holidays.
In the cloudy haze of sleepiness, you almost question what he’s doing here until you remember how he snuck out of his room to slink into yours after everyone went to bed last night. How he squeezed two spare pillows between the wooden headboard and the walls to muffle the impact and pounded you into the mattress until you drooled into the sheets. How often he had to cover your mouth with his palm as to not blow your cover.
You exhale with your eyes shut as he kneads the swells of your breasts under your tee, “is she up?”
His pillowcase rustles as he tosses a glance over his shoulder to spare a glance at the baby monitor on his nightstand. Lorelei lies peacefully asleep, waddled in the additional nursery Nona had Roman set up for her at the house for overnight visits. “No.”
You lick your lips when he presses his hips against your core, his dick already firm and warm underneath his boxers. Your eyes still closed as he twists your tightening nipples with his fingers, “someone’s gonna hear…”
But then you’re panting into the navy blue morning as he stuffs your pussy with two fingers under the duvet until you’re whispering and squelching all over them, “oh god…”
When your arousal starts dripping down his wrist, he haphazardly peels the comforter off you two and tugs his boxers just below his balls. He tucks himself between your core while you’re on your side and you both begin rolling your hips in sync. “Mmm,” you purr when his tip rubs against your throbbing clit with each grind.
He wraps his large palm around your neck and tugs until your ear is at his mouth, “feel good?”
You manage a loose nod through his grip and bite your lip. You angle your hips upward and release the tight breath you’re holding when the slant lets him slip inside you on the next thrust with little resistance.
He releases his grip on your neck to hold one your legs apart as you lie on your side— his hard thrusts have you creaming on his dick in no time, “f-fffuck.”
He watches with hooded eyes as your head bounces with each thrust as you try to watch his fat dick stuff you, “look at that little creamy pussy. Gonna let me nut all inside it?”
Your eyes meet his. You lie your head back on the pillow and angle your face towards his. Your mouth parting for a particularly delicious thrust, “y-yes please.”
For a long while, he fucks you just like this. Serene waves of the ocean lapping up onto the shore before rescinding in the near distance, only an inch of space between both of your hushed panting in the silence of the morning.
He quietly groans against the shell of your ear and tightens the grip he has on your leg, “Shit. Gonna let me knock you up again, hmm? Get you pregnant.”
You whine and your hips buck when he finds your spot, “yes. yes. yes. Whatever you want. Oh goddd.”
“Whatever I want?”
You were both drowsy from the sleepy haze, but that seems to energize him with a new bolt of electricity.
He starts fucking you hard and precise, each thrust bruising your sweet spot until your creamy arousal coats the thick length of his big dick— your toes curling in on themselves. You’re franticly whining, “yes. Knock me up, daddy. It’s yours.”
Faint echos of distant footsteps down the hall both halt his stokes and propels his palm over your mouth.
After the footsteps fade into obscurity, in one swift dizzying move, you find yourself upright— him flat on his back with you straddled on his lap and him still inside you, “show daddy how you got pregnant.”
You place your palms flat on his chest, your knees on each sides of his hips, and mewl at how full he feels inside your pulsating cunt. In a rosy daze, you roll your hips in halos while making eye contact with him.
His hands grip all the ass your pregnancy gave you as you slide your sopping pussy over him, the muscles in his abdomen clenching, “feel so good. Fuck. C-can’t stay away from you.”
He tugs you down on his lap by your hips and thrusts as you roll your pelvis, groaning as you wail about him being so deep.
A stinging smack to your ass reminds you remain quiet as your pussy squelches— his balls tightening as your core sucks on his fat dick, “don’t wake my people up being a slut, little girl.”
“S-sorry.”
His eyes stare at yours with that intensity it always does, watches as each bounce of your hips makes the creamy mess on the hairy base of his veiny dick even messier. Each bounce doing him in until he’s slack-jawed, balls tight and brows furrowed like he’s in serious pain. “That pussy about to make me… bust. Baby… wait…”
You don’t stop. Too rapidly for him to notice, you switch from your knees to your feet and use your toes as a springboard against the squeaky mattress.
In five more thrusts, you’re bringing the both of you to a blinding orgasm. You lay your chest against his to muffle your cries against the skin of his shoulders as your eyes roll to the back of your head. He throws a forearm across your waist and presses his hips as close as possible against your pelvis and spills his hot come inside you with a deep, strained grunt.
You nestle back under the duvet on your belly, watching him dress back up in the clothes he came in with last night. He’s looking at the ground before he catches your eye, shakes his head, and exhales out his nose in disbelief as he ties the drawstring on his grey sweatpants.
You give him a sleepy smile, squealing when he tugs the duvet off you one last time to leave a quick smack on your ass and sneaking back to his room before sunrise— leaving you to melt back into the mattress under the blue hue of the morning.
.
No one takes Easter more seriously than Nona does. That much is apparent.
You see the line-up of large plastic-wrapped gift baskets tagged with the name of the kid it’s for before you even make it to the kitchen. On the kitchen island is a crowded, whimsical assortment of treats for the festivities: cupcakes, plastic-covered sugar cookies in the shape of bunnies, cake pops, cookies, and flowers— all of which are in pastel shades of yellow, pink, lavender, green, or blue.
Majority of the family is in the backyard, where even more assortments like the one on the kitchen island occupy outdoor tables— which makes you think this one is just the back-up inventory. In the yard, she’s set up themed little craft stations. Even going as far as to having one of her friends from church dress up as the Easter Bunny as a form of entertainment for the kids.
“Good morning.”
After grabbing a plate of waffles from the counter, you pull out a chair and take a seat at the table— smiling at your giggly baby in her highchair before planting a kiss on her cheek.
Nona sits across from you with a bowl of Lorelei’s mashed-up bananas in her hand. A spoonful still mid-air to accommodate the affection, “afternoon, honey.”
You nod and roll your lips into your mouth as the shriek of children’s laughter ring from the yard, “afternoon. Sorry. I slept in.”
Nona hums and feeds a clapping Lorelei while glancing at you as you take a forkful of the waffle, “that’s what I’m here for.” She boops Lorelei on the nose, “isn’t that right misses sweet face?”
At that moment, Roman walks into the room with his nose in his phone and beelines it for the coffee maker.
“Roman.”
He looks up.
Nona places the small plastic bowl on the dining table after Lorelei clears it and uses the spoon to clean off any excess banana from her mouth area. Her eyes on her granddaughter, “I invited Mia over to join us today just a few weeks ago.”
He clicks his phone lock and slips it into his pocket. This piques his interest, a subtle fold dividing his brows, “why?”
“I had the impression that the two of you were getting more… serious. Everyone’s here. I didn’t want her feeling excluded.”
You start chewing a little slower and glance at her as your stomach slowly sinks. Why did she say it like that? She didn’t suspect anything, did she?
The two of you started sleeping together again a month and a half ago, after that night he found Tinder installed on your phone. You’d started letting him pick you up from Sunburnt after work. He’d be at the house more often, sometimes even spending the night. One morning after he spent the night, you both happened to witness Lorelei take her first few hesitant steps during breakfast. An unshakable moment that’s been planting bugs in your ears about this arrangement you have with him actually being the way things are supposed to be.
You aren't naive enough to deny that this is a slippery slope, but you love the hill.
And the sex is nothing to scoff at.
His eyes inconspicuously shift to you as he scratches his beard, gauging you out for any sign of dismay at the information. You give him nothing, “yeah. Okay.”
After you finish eating, you take your baby to your room and change both of your outfits to the ones you brought for the main event: a little baby blue strapless number for you and a vintage strawberry plaid romper with the matching hat for Lorelei.
You get her dressed and place her on the bed to put your shoes on. Watching her raise her feet in the air to play with her toes, you hold one of the bedposts for balance and bend at the hip to fumble with the latch of your sandals.
As soon as you get it done and you’re upright, Roman’s coming into the room and spinning you towards him before locking your lips together in a long, sensual, hard kiss that knocks the wind from out your lungs. It catches you by surprise at first, but then his cologne starts seeping into your senses and reroutes your wiring. He didn’t close the door when he came in and it’s gaped enough for anyone to stick their head in at any given moment. He doesn’t care. His big hands are at the supple flesh of your ass, feeling and groping you up as he sucks on your tongue. But then you’re pushing him off you with haste when you hear voices approach and pass the cracked door. With a thumb quickly swiping your gloss off his bottom lip, he’s leaving as stealthily as he came in.
You’re still spinning on your axis.
And for the first real time, panting in the guest room, you feel the thrill of the secret.
.
“Smile!”
The flash on Nona’s digital Sony camera blinds your baby into a painful squint. It fucks up the picture, but it’s still a precious image.
You stood by the doorway overlooking the yard of bright green grass, littered with a scattered variety of pastel-toned plastic eggs. Some of the kids are hunkered down at the craft tables while some of the adults help themselves to Nona’s treats and an array of freshly-squeezed iced lemonade atop the picnic tables.
The yard became a blur of sticky fingers and spinning wicker baskets when the scavenger hunt began.
When West squats down to Lorelei’s level on the picnic blanket she’s sat on and finesses her out of the elusive golden egg Nona snuck her, a flag is thrown on the play. Roman, arms crossed against his pecs, was fully engrossed in an serious conversation about Q4’s Nielsen Hours with Jey before cutting it short.
He’s crossing the yard in just a few steps, grabbing the egg back to place it in Lorelei’s chunky palms, and lifting her off the blanket before returning to the other side of the yard. Jimmy’s 14 year-old groans something along the lines of her not even being able to participate uncle Roman while his father smacks his lips.
You watch as he balances the baby in one burly forearm, his other hand wrapped around the frigid neck of a Corona beer— face blank as he dives back into business.
“She’s getting so big.”
Underneath the simmering heat of spring in Key West, Mia stands to the right of you with a cool Corona in her grip. The center of her sights apparently the same as yours.
As always.
You’ve always had a certain level of respect for Mia.
Anyone who sets their sights on anything and follows through with even half the amount of tenacity as she has, has your respect.
Being the daughter of one of the most esteemed former wrestlers in the entire business granted her a ton of leeway backstage. Leeway she began to exercise once she took a liking to a particular face on her screen. He was in a committed relationship with you at the time, as she would come to learn through forging friendships with the right people backstage like the socialite she can be. People who know him and his relationship with you intimately.
Anastasia became one of her most useful sources. Not only was she Jey’s girlfriend, but she was also acquaintances with you. Two birds, one stone.
Her appearances behind the curtains became more strategic, but groomed to appear as natural coincidences. She’d be present solely on days when Anastasia would tell her he’d be at a show to manufacture a run-in.
Eventually, it pays off. With the help of Anastasia, she manages to manufacture enough run-in’s with him and his friends to sink into his close-knit social circle.
And when she’d decided that she needed an opportunity to get past that platonic barrier with him, Anastasia and a few others from their circle decided to fly you out to Portofino Italy under the guise of a girls trip. All so Mia could have an ‘in.’
You would’ve been none the wiser to the scheme if Anastasia hadn’t let you make a quick call to Namina on her phone when yours died at the Portofino Vineyard. If Mia hadn’t texted an update amid the call. A message with enough context for you to realize what was happening.
You returned the phone afterwards and pretended like you didn’t see anything, deciding against showing your cards to a group of people who clearly don’t have your best interest at heart while in an entirely foreign country.
Ultimately, nothing transpired between the two while you were in Italy since he had to cut out of the cozy Fourth of July party she hosted for their mutual friends due to business matters. It wasn’t until you landed back in Key West that you told him everything you found out with a tone that spared no pleasantries.
And yes, she begged her father to set her up with Roman after news about your final official split hit months later.
But fruitless as it might’ve been at the time, that trip is the reason he agreed to the arrangement in the first place. If it wasn’t going to be you, she was the perfect number two. The great lengths she went to for just a slice of his attention, it stroked his ego.
Who’s better for a narcissist than the tolerant codependent who’s shown she’s willing to go to the ends of the earth despite the bread-crumbing? He realized she would be willing to do anything for him.
You roll your lips into your mouth and raise your brows in agreement, “I know. Time flies.”
She raises the beer to her lips and takes a cool sip, “she gives me such baby fever every time she comes by the house.”
You look at her.
She exhales a laugh through her nose when she feels your eyes in her peripheral, “I know.”
Mia tries to takes such strides in your relationship since she knows the magnitude of impact you and your daughter have on Roman’s life, but you can make it so difficult. Apart from the natural dichotomy between the ex girlfriend and anyone new, she can’t seem to understand the rift for the life of her. Granted, she never found out you know the true intent behind the Italy trip.
Which is exactly how you prefer it. Simply because it’s alot easier to read people when they think you're oblivious.
You face back forward, your eyes just happening to lock with Anastasia’s across the yard as she plucks and peels the skin off of a cupcake with lavender frosting near one of the stands, hers already set on the two of you. “Any plans?”
She purses her lips before shrugging her shoulders, “I dunno. The brand is starting to stand on its own legs. I’m able to be at home more. He and I are at a place where things are aligning. I don’t know… Lorelei certainly doesn’t help.”
Except they are not at a place where things are aligning. Except lately he’s starting to act even more cold and disinterested than he usually is and she can’t seem to figure out why. Except the last time he was behaving this way she found out he had a baby on the way just a few months later. Except you just so happen to be the common denominator but this time she just can’t prove it.
But Mia knows better than to bleed in front of a shark.
You nod and chew on the side of your cheek, pretend like the idea of the two of them having a baby doesn’t bother you. “She’ll do that to you.”
She’d much rather watch you bleed instead.
Mia smiles perkily and looks at you directly, “what about you?”
“Huh?”
“Do you want more? Someday?”
He quietly groans against the shell of your ear and tightens the grip he has on your leg. “Shit. Gonna let me knock you up again, hmm? Get you pregnant.”
“Um.” You look over at your little girl, nestled between pure tribal ink and chest while Jey harasses her with Nona’s digital camera. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been thinking thoughts lately. If you said having him around so frequently hasn’t made you reconsider the split, for you and your daughters sake. He’s just been clouding your judgement all around recently.
But it’s clear you’re just kidding yourself.
You tend to take anything Mia tells you concerning Roman with a grain of salt. A woman that adamant will stop at nothing to divide and conquer. Still, you know him too. He can’t be taken at face value either. A man that adamant will stop at nothing to get you back, even if it means lying to you about how serious he actually is with Mia. If he’s lying to you because he just doesn’t want to see you with anyone else.
“I had the impression that the two of you were getting more… serious.”
Who do you believe when two people are telling you conflicting sides of the same story?
Neither. Nothing is safer than the middle ground, “yeah. Someday. She’s enough for me right now.”
Mia happens to take an important call inside the house when Nona declares it time to take the annual Easter portrait as the sun begins to tip toe below the horizon. Everyone huddles around the Easter Bunny on the outdoor sofa with Roman seated on the far right. Realizing there isn’t enough room beside him, you go to travel to the left side of the frame. Before you can, he’s grabbing your waist and casually tugging you down to sit on his thighs— a sleepy Lorelei burrowed in your arms.
He’s stoic as his mother snaps the picture, but embarrassment is brewing in your chest.
You try your best to play it off as casual, hoping that no one reads too much into it. Except he knows you too well to know that’s not the only reason you’re uneasy.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” You’d cry, your voice breaking with desperation. His jaw stayed clenched, every muscle in his body drawn tight with anger that refused to burn out. He had you face down, ass up. You heard his heavy breathing, punctuated by low curses even though he refused to meet your eyes, no matter how much you’d look back at him.
One hand kept your arm pinned behind your back, while the other braced himself against the mattress. There wasn’t an ounce of patience left in him tonight. Every bitter word you’d thrown at him echoed in his head.
You felt like you were being ruined, barely managing to breathe as your forehead pressed into the tufted pillow, drool dampening the fabric while ragged gasps tore from your lungs. Lifting one leg onto the mattress, he taunted, “Oh, yeah? Take this dick like you hate it then.”
He punctuated every last word with another brutal thrust before leaning back just enough to watch your ass jiggle, his fingers dug harder into your hips, leaving crescents. His eyes fluttered, nearly falling shut before opening again, his jaw slack as he watched his dick go in and out of your soppy pussy. You’ll be feeling the aftermath for hours. Even with your body trembling from your fourth orgasm of the night, there isn’t a chance in hell he’ll give either of you a moment to breathe.
Through your broken cries and babbles, your message was clear; you wanted him dead so that he could never hurt you or your baby again. The mention of your sleeping infant just down the hall gave you the strength to glare up at him with hot tears streaking down your face.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, “Uh huh, I hear you lil mama,” his tongue dragged across his teeth. “I hate yo lil trifling ass too.”
Present day
You shifted uncomfortably as the sun peeked through, now shining directly on you with the palm tree no longer casting any shade. Your eyes followed your daughter as she ran around the splash pad with a few random kids, giggling as she stood beneath the spraying water. Jey came walking back from the water slide, shaking the excess water from his hair.
Flashback
Your legs were parted as you braced yourself on bent arms, your body forward as you desperately tried to keep your arch. His hands settled firmly on your hips, holding you in place while his mouth carefully examines every bit of your pussy, letting his fingers and lips do all of the talking. He was beyond tired of hearing your mouth, he’d rather eat that attitude right outta you.
Closing his lips on your clit, the only sounds filling the room were sucking and the muffled groans as another finger eased deeper inside you.
You didn’t have to see him to picture his smug expression as his tongue teasingly grazed your other puckered hole, as if he wanted to prove you didn’t deserve this kind of attention, yet refused to stop giving it to you. His tongue eagerly lapped at your spilling arousal, savoring every drop.
Fucking his fingers into you, he slowly twisted them to stroke against that spot that caused your teeth to sink into your lip as you tried not to cum. A thin strand of saliva stretched between his lips and your pussy before bringing a hand up to thumb gently at your clit, petting her over and over again. “She wanna cum, don’t she, bae?” His thumb was now sopping wet as he continued his circular motions. “Yeah… I feel her.”
Present day
“You coming?” jey asked.
You cocked your head, brows knitting together when you see him holding your daughter’s tiny hand.
“The lazy river? You coming, right?”
As you three walked hand in hand, the scorching concrete beneath your feet and the crowd of people who would occasionally bump into you, didn’t matter. Your mind was going a mile a minute. You would chalk it up to being horny but it’s much deeper than that. You were at your breaking point. You realized that you’re absolutely tired of the stupid bet and every rule that came with it. If anything, you regretted making that dumb shit in the first place.
All it did was force you to realize that maybe you liked the way things were between you and jey. It was reckless and unpredictable…the push and pull could be exhausting, but the way he always found his way back to you? The make up sex, the possessiveness, how aggressive he gets? You crave it. Yeah, it wasn’t always healthy, and sometimes he took things too far. But… it felt like home. It’s exactly where you wanna be. Even though part of you wanted the picture perfect family for your little girl, you wondered if giving in just one more time would really be so wrong. One quick fuck wouldn’t hurt would it? It’ll help you sort out your feelings.
As you swayed slowly along the lazy river, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun settle over your skin while cool droplets rolled down your shoulders, providing brief relief from the heat. But no amount of cool water could distract you from the warmth pooling beneath your swimsuit, the unmistakable dampness suddenly allowed a pulse to creep in. Heat coiled in your stomach, all the way down to your core. You couldn’t fight this any longer.
•••
“…pleaseeee!” you whisper, though it comes out more like a whine as your palm caresses jey’s dick while he’s driving. You lean across the console, crowding his space while he tries to keep his eyes on the road.
“Don’t wake up my lil girl with all that whining.”
You smack your lips, “I’m serious!”
“And I’m serious,” he shoots back, giving you a side eye before looking ahead again. “What’s up with you? Ain’t we still on that no sex bet?”
“Fuck the bet, I want you.” He won’t turn you down. It’s jey we’re talking about! But more than anything, he wants to know why. And right now… you can’t give him that.
“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You pull your hand away and drop back into the passenger seat with a frustrated huff, folding your arms across your chest. “It’s a simple yes or no.”
The turn signal clicks as he slows at the intersection. “You gone tell me why?” he asks calmly, his eyes flicking left, then right before making the turn. “Because I already know there’s a reason behind it.” You keep staring at him instead of the road ahead, watching the muscle in his jaw tighten. “And if I find out it’s because of somebody else—”
A tear slipped down your cheek, and suddenly the words came spilling out. “I just want you… a-and I need you.” You scrubbed at your face, only for more tears to replace it. “I miss us. Please…” Your voice cracked. “Just—just make me feel good when we get home. Please!?”
Jey was now blinking slowly as he stared at you, completely caught off guard. His mouth parted like he had a dozen questions, but instead, all he could say was, “…ight.”
•••
You couldn’t believe it had been so long that your first orgasm of the night had damn near taken you out. You collapsed onto your stomach, completely spent. You should know by now that Jey isn’t taking it easy on you, instead he’s giving you exactly what you asked for.
“Nah, fix that arch and stop running.”
You obeyed, your pulse racing as you force yourself to began fucking back into his thrusts. He smacked your ass every time you threw it back on him, “Show off then baby, this yo dick.”
His length pushed in and out, in and out, massaging and soothing your aching sex. You’d needed him for so long, and the more you let yourself think about it, the closer you were to your orgasm.
“I—“ you started, but he cut you off with another stroke that made your eyes roll back. “It’s comingggggg,” you exclaimed with a gasp.
“Fight that nut baby, I ain’t done with you yet.”
You tried, you really did. But your head tipped back in a silent cry as Jey caught you by the shoulders, setting a relentless pace. Within seconds, you were cumming again. Jey fucked you through it, coaxing every trembling breath and helpless shudder from you. He knew exactly what he was doing, groaning as your velvety walls clenched around him, he could see the ecstasy written all over your pretty face.
He grew worried when you nearly forgot to breathe, quickly pulling out and flipping you onto your back. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes searched yours. A weak, satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you sat up.
“You good, ma?”
“Yeah,” you breathed. “…’m sorry.”
The worry drained from his face. “Lay back,” He growled. “And take this dick.”
The deeper he went, the harder your eyes rolled back, your body trembling all over for what had to be the hundredth time tonight. Every inch of your body buzzed with pleasure and exhaustion, yet somehow craved every bit of what he gave you. His hands slid from your hips to your stomach before he slowly began to rock his hips and fuck, he was so fucking deep that you felt him in your stomach.
A low groan spilled from his lips, followed by a string of praises. He wouldn’t stop, drunk on the sight of you, the feel of you — until he asks, “Why you wanna be fucked like this?”
He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours,“Look at me,” his voice sounded rougher. “Answer me.” You looked at him, lips parting slightly, but you stayed silent. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Your silence only pissed him off, “So you can’t speak? Bet.” His thumb pressed hard circles against your sensitive nub. The assault becoming increasingly overwhelming — irritation bled through as he began hammering into you with an erratic rhythm, not giving a fuck that you were overstimulated.
You fought to keep your composure, but your body betrayed you anyway. Your pussy tensed, shuddering in involuntary pulses around his dick. This orgasm was much more intense, you felt it quickly approaching as you babbled helplessly. “No! Noo daddy, i’m gonna-”
Jey shifted his angle slightly, leaning forward. His hand settled against your stomach, feeling the way it tightened beneath his touch, as your breathing turned uneven. “That’s exactly what I want, squirt on daddy’s dick.”
He was intentionally pressing at your G-spot. It wasn't gentle, whatsoever. Why? Because he wanted front row seats, and more than that, he wanted to be right in the splash zone. He steps back, stroking his length while watching you intensely as your hips bucked wildly and your body curled in on itself. Pleasure gushed out of you as you bit down on your lip hard, but Jey’s name still broke free from your throat.
Jey let out a low, rough, “Fuck,” His entire body went taut as he hunched forward, thick ropes of cum shooting over your lower belly. “This all you needed, huh?” He breathed, his body still shaking faintly, yet all he could do was watch you come down from your blissful high.
summary: jude can’t keep his hands off of you, especially not in public.
notes: i accidentally deleted the request for this, but to the anon who asked for this, I hope you enjoy ;))
also I cried after England’s loss today because what 💔 anyways go spain PLEASE beat Argentina.
should I do another jude smut but this time it’s set after his loss?? let me knoww 👀 👀
warnings: smut!
you were at a restaurant with both you and jude's friends, laughing and making jokes with them. your boyfriend jude sat next to you at the table. his hand rested on your inner thigh, occasionally squeezing it in comfort.
you had been dragged here by your friends. they'd told you that it would be fun, so you had agreed begrudgingly. jude had agreed to come as well, and he was chatting with his football friends at the other side of the table.
you sat there, sipping your drink and contributing to the conversation. the table was a lively environment, and the talking never seemed to subside. every single time one story or joke was uttered, another one of your friends added on to it. it was already 8pm. you had been here for 2 hours already, and it didn't seem like you were making it home anytime soon.
throughout the whole time though, jude had never stopped touching you in any sort of way. when his hand left your thigh, it moved to snake around your waist, and when he wasn't doing that he was holding your hand. you loved it, and he knew it too.
your back straightened as you adjusted your position in your seat, and jude took your brief moment of silence to lean in, lips touching your ear.
"you look so fucking sexy right now, you know that right?" his low voice spoke, and you shivered slightly. his lips stayed there at your ear for a moment before pulling away, teasing you. you closed your eyes for a second, regaining your composure before opening them again.
you'd continued your conversation after, throwing a warning glance in jude's direction. just then, as you threw your head back in laughter at one of your friend's jokes, you felt jude's hand move upwards slightly. your breath hitched slightly, and you turned to look at him. his lips twitched in a not quite smile, clearly trying to hide his amusement.
he leaned forward and kissed you then, a soft and gentle one, in contrast to what he had said earlier.
"get a room!" your friend said, tossing a clean napkin at you two. you laughed as you broke the kiss with jude.
you'd thought that that would've been the end of it, that he was just simply teasing you for a moment, but oh boy, were you wrong. just as you were in the middle of telling a story, jude's fingers grazed just under the dress you were wearing.
"and so I was li-" you stopped talking for a moment, back straightening as you adjusted your posture, moving away from jude slightly.
"you okay?" your friend asked, looking at you with concern. you could see jude in your peripheral vision doing his best not to laugh, and you'd never wanted to clobber him more.
"I'm fine." you said, taking a sip of your drink. your friend nodded, a bit unconvinced. you continued on your story from before, this time uninterrupted.
"stop it, jude." you murmured under your breath. he smiled in response.
"can't help it, you're just so beautiful." he said under his breath, his teasing touches turning to gentle circles on your thigh.
the night continued on as it was, eventually winding down as you said goodbye to your friends and jude's. the walk back to his place felt unbearably long, especially since you knew what was going to happen once you got back.
once the door clicked shut, you kicked your shoes off impatiently before immediately heading to the bedroom, jude not too far behind you.
you tugged jude into a kiss once you neared the bed. his hands immediately flew to your neck, one hand pulling on your head slightly to deepen the kiss. his tongue made his way into your mouth, devouring you.
“thought of this all night, baby.” he pulled away, his hot breath on your face as one hand drifted to the back of your dress, unzipping it.
his fingers went to pull the dress off you you, revealing yourself to him. he let out a slight groan as he took in the sight, hands going to his own clothes to undress himself. once he did so, he slowly guided you backwards until your legs hit the bed, your back falling onto the mattress gently.
he joined you on it after, the mattress sinking down as he got closer to you. he leaned over you, fingers tracing light patterns across your chest. you let out a slight whine in protest when he didn't do anything and just kept teasing you.
"I'm going to make you see stars, baby." jude said before pushing two fingers inside of your needy pussy. you moaned out in pleasure, writhing on the bed as his fingers worked you over.
"fuck.. so wet for me." he added a third one in, making you gasp out in pleasure as your back arched off the bed. his lips curled into a devilish grin as he watched your reaction to his fingers moving in and out of you at a rapid pace.
"fuck, jude... shit!" you let out a guttural cry as his fingers curled inside of you then, hitting the perfect spot. you were completely lost in the pleasure, panting heavily as your eyes rolled back into your head. you clenched around him, knowing you were close.
just then, jude's fingers pulled out of you. you let out a desperate whine as your eyes shot open, focusing on him.
"need you to come on my cock, baby." he explained, seeing your frustrated expression on your face. he pulled off his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing on him. he then moved closer to you again, teasing you as his tip nudged your entrance.
"fuck, jude. need you inside..." your voice trailed off.
"yeah?" he asked, a groan escaping him as he heard you plead. "how badly do you need me, love?"
"please, jude. need you so bad.. please." you rambled on. jude smiled as he watched you beg him, finally taking pity on you. he finally pushed his cock past your entrance, letting out a groan as your walls clenched around him tightly.
he waited for a moment, until your breathing slowed down to push inside again. you let out a moan, hands gripping the sheets as jude pushed deeper inside of you.
"fuck." he moaned out, hips beginning to move. the headboard banged against the wall as he did so. "feel so good, baby. clenching around my cock like this."
he only picked up the pace, his hips thrusting into you. he pushed your legs up to rest onto his shoulders before thrusting into you again, hitting a deeper angle inside of you. your lips never stopped moving, letting out a series of curses as his hips moved back and forth.
“fuck, jude. feels so good. oh, fuck.” you said.
your hands went to his shoulders, holding on as you felt your own release coming onto you. jude’s thrusts became erratic and rushed as he felt his own release coming onto him.
“shit, jude, i’m coming!” you exclaimed before your eyes closed. you moaned, experiencing your high. jude came right after, spilling into you and filling you up with his cum. he stayed inside of you for a moment, catching his breath before pulling out of you.
“remind me to tease you again if this is how it’s going to end.” he said, and you doubled over in laughter, endorphins still rushing through you. you fell asleep soon after, jude pulling you into his chest as you soundly slept in his arms.
summary ➜ you and jude have been fucking for a while. no label, no drama—just easy fun. and that’s what you keep telling yourself, until the idea of a threesome gets thrown out there.
you don’t love him.
that’s the first lie.
the one you’ve told so many times it doesn’t even taste bitter anymore. it slips off your tongue smooth as silk, like gum you’ve been chewing too long. stale but comforting. you say it like it’s scripture. like a prayer you whisper to yourself every time he walks into your place without knocking, kicks his shoes off like he lives there, drops his bag by the door and kisses you like he missed you—really missed you.
you say it while you’re straddling him, legs wide on either side of his hips, palms planted on his chest. he’s looking up at you with that lazy, heavy-lidded smile, the kind that makes your stomach do flips you pretend not to feel. you roll your hips just right and he groans, his hands gripping your waist tighter. you tilt your head back and say it again—i don’t love you—only this time it’s not words. it’s the way you bite your lip, the way you dig your nails into his shoulder like you’re trying to stay grounded, like if you let go you might float away and accidentally say something true.
you say it while choking on him, hands braced on his thighs, eyes watering, spit coating your lips. he’s watching you with this look—soft, adoring, dangerous. like he’d marry you if you asked. like he knows exactly how you feel and doesn’t need you to admit it. and you hate that. hate that you can’t hide from him, not really. but you keep going. because if you stop now, he’ll ask. and you won’t be able to lie if he asks.
he lets you lie.
lets you act like this is nothing. lets you laugh when he calls you “my love” with his face between your thighs. he says it like a joke, all breathy and playful, but his eyes are always on you when he says it. like he’s waiting. like he’s hoping you’ll finally say it back.
he lets you roll your eyes when he lingers too long in your kitchen, shirtless, barefoot, drinking your orange juice and playing with the magnet letters on your fridge. he lets you kiss him quick on the way out, like a casual thing. like he doesn’t already have the code to your building. like you didn’t buy an extra toothbrush and act like it was “for guests.”
he lets you pretend. even though he doesn’t fuck anyone else. not really. not anymore. and you know that. you know it deep in your bones. and that’s what makes this whole thing—this threesome idea—so fucked.
so stupid.
so cruel.
it starts as a joke.
a stupid, tipsy thing thrown out in the middle of one of those nights where everything feels fuzzy and electric. he just got back from an away game. scored. assisted. rode the high all the way to your place. you’re both a little crossfaded. shirtless, legs tangled, laughing about something that doesn’t matter anymore. someone brings up threesomes—maybe the tv, maybe a tweet, you don’t remember—and he looks at you with this crooked little grin.
“you ever had one?”
you raise an eyebrow. smirk. “no.”
“you curious?”
“are you?”
he shrugs. “i mean... if it’s with you.”
and your heart does this weird, traitorous thing. this lurch. like you’re about to say something stupid. but your pride kicks in faster. and you laugh, light and breezy, too much teeth.
“sure,” you say, shrugging like it’s nothing. “why not?”
and that’s the moment. that’s when you seal your own fate.
because now it’s real. now it’s out there. and he doesn’t flinch. just nods like okay. like we’ll do it then. like he’s holding up a mirror and daring you to look.
you even help pick the girl.
scroll through profiles on instagram like you’re choosing a pizza topping. swipe, swipe, scroll. you find someone cute. pretty but not too pretty. soft voice. glossy lips. cute nails. someone who’s never watched him play a full 90 minutes. someone who doesn’t know that his left ankle still aches in the cold. someone who doesn’t wake up to him talking in his sleep or hum songs from his spotify playlist just because it reminds you of him.
she’s not a threat, you think.
she doesn’t know him like you do.
she doesn’t matter.
and that should help. it should make it easier. but it doesn’t.
because as the day creeps closer, your nerves turn to acid. you try to play it cool—teasing texts, light jokes, “should i get my nails done?”—but you feel it. that clawing thing in your chest. the panic. the jealousy. the ache. because this is supposed to be fun. but all you can think is:
what if jude touches her like he touches me?
what if he likes the way she moans?
what if he looks at her like he looks at me?
or worse—
what if he doesn’t?
what if you realise you’re not that special after all?
but you don’t say any of that. you never do. you paint your lips red, shave everything, wear that matching lace set you bought for your birthday but never had the courage to show him. you answer the door like you’re fine. like this is just sex. like you’re not setting your own feelings on fire just to watch him pretend he’s not in love with you either.
and jude plays along. he always does. because you’re both liars. because it’s the only way either of you know how to keep each other.
when the day comes, she arrives right on time.
not too early—she’s not that bold. not late either—she knows better than to make you wait. she knocks like a girl who’s done this before. soft, rehearsed. and when you open the door, you already hate her a little. not because she’s rude. not because she’s prettier than you. she isn’t. she’s just... here.
smiling, glossy, perfectly chill. she smells expensive. looks like she never sweats. like she came out the womb knowing how to take up space. says something flirty to jude when she walks past, all eyes and lashes, and you feel it down your spine like someone poured hot water down your back.
jude gives you a look then. something unreadable. like he’s checking in. like he wants you to say something. but you don’t. you turn, walk to the kitchen, pour yourself a drink and down it like water. you can’t back out now.
you think if you’re the one who starts it, it’ll feel better. so you take her hand. lead her to the bed. act like you’re the one in charge of this whole thing. kiss her first. slow. soft. sweet, even. she tastes like strawberry lip gloss and entitlement. her hands run over your waist, your thighs, your ass—like she’s appreciating you. like she wants you.
you can feel jude watching. behind you. somewhere close.
you break the kiss and look over your shoulder.
he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. lips slightly parted. his jaw clenches when your eyes meet, but he doesn’t say anything. just watches you. like he’s memorising the shape of your mouth. the tilt of your head. the way your body bends for someone that isn’t him.
and something flickers behind his eyes. something sharp.
you crawl toward him. you’re still in control. you need to be. you pull his sweats down, slowly, fingers grazing the line of his thigh. you mouth at the head of his dick, soft and teasing. he groans, head falling back just a little, hand tangling in your hair.
and then she joins you.
kisses your shoulder. presses soft kisses to his stomach. you feel her breath close to your jaw, her hand trailing your spine. she’s good. practiced. and it makes you furious. it makes you want to prove something.
you suck him harder. let him hit the back of your throat. gag just a little on purpose. he twitches in your mouth, lets out this low curse, hand tightening in your hair. she moans next to you like it turns her on too.
and still—still—he’s only watching you.
you feel her shift beside you, hear her whine, “can i ride him?”
you freeze. thrown.
your mouth still wet, lips parted in disbelief, breath caught like it wasn’t supposed to happen. like she broke some rule no one wrote down but you both knew was there. like she dared to speak over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
she doesn’t touch him when she says it. doesn’t touch you either. just says it, bold, stupid, innocent, all teeth and lipgloss like she doesn’t even know what kind of war she just started in your chest.
and you don’t answer. not right away. your body is still. your throat tight. the air in the room shifts like it knows this is where things stop being fun. stop being just sex.
you blink, slowly. not looking at her.
your eyes go to jude, and he’s already looking at you. not her—not the girl asking to fuck him. not the one pressing her tits against your arm, trying to remind you she exists. just you.
his fingers are still tangled in your hair. his dick’s heavy and waiting in your hand, still glistening from your mouth. his jaw is tense, and there’s something burning behind his eyes that you know. something that makes your stomach turn. because it’s not guilt. not panic. not even lust.
it’s permission.
he’s waiting for you to say it’s okay. like he can’t do it unless you let him. like he already knows you won’t.
your chest rises. you feel that familiar sting behind your eyes and fight it back. you don’t let it show. can’t. not here. not in front of her. not in front of him. you lick your lips, fingers tightening just slightly where they wrap around him.
the silence between you stretches. you could snap it with your teeth.
then you speak. voice quiet. cracked. lower than before.
“no.”
you don’t explain. don’t smile. don’t try to soften it.
just no.
and it cuts the air in half. so clean. so cold. so final.
jude nods once. slow. not confused. not surprised. like he already knew that was coming. like he was waiting for it. like it confirmed something he’d been holding his tongue about this whole time.
and it shouldn’t mean anything. it shouldn’t hold so much weight. you’re not his girl. he’s not yours. but none of that stops him from reaching up and grabbing your chin—gentle. too gentle. soft in a way that’s so out of place for how loud your heart is beating, for how naked you feel in this moment. for how ugly your jealousy is. for how much you want to scream and cry and cum all at once.
he holds your face steady. tilts it so you can’t look away. forces you to meet his eyes. and what you see there... it knocks the wind out of you.
he’s serious.
not lust-drunk. not in some haze. just... clear. focused. unshaking.
“this stops when you say so,” he says. low. calm. but there’s a heat to it. his thumb drags across your cheek like he’s memorising the shape of you all over again. “if you want her gone, she’s gone.”
he says it without breaking eye contact. without hesitation. without guilt. like he means every fucking syllable. like he wouldn’t blink before pulling the plug on this whole thing. like the only reason she’s even here is because you let her be.
and jude couldn’t care less whether she hears him or not. he doesn’t even glance her way. doesn’t stutter. doesn’t soften his voice. because she was never really part of this equation to begin with.
you nod. once. throat tight. jaw clenched. not trusting yourself to speak. and that’s it. that’s the end of that.
no questions. no follow-ups. no “are you sure?”
he just kisses you. soft. slow. with too much tongue and too much care and too much meaning packed between every press of his lips.
the girl is not stupid.
she sees the way he looks at you. hears the words. the weight in them. she doesn’t argue. doesn’t make a scene. doesn’t ask if she did something wrong. maybe she’s been in this position before. maybe she’s been the girl who showed up thinking it was just fun, just bodies, just sex—but ended up feeling like the interruption. like the third wheel to something she didn’t understand. something she wasn’t supposed to witness.
you don’t say anything to her. can’t. your tongue is heavy. your throat thick. shame is already curling in your stomach, bitter and sour.
she sits up slowly. pulls on her dress. smooths it down. glances between the two of you—jude’s hand still holding your jaw, your lips parted like you want to apologise and beg him to keep kissing you all at once. and that’s when she knows.
she tucks her lip gloss back in her bag. says something soft—“thanks, it was fun”—even though you both know it wasn’t. even though she probably feels like she just watched something break in real time.
jude doesn’t even look at her. not out of disrespect. but because he can’t take his eyes off you.
the door clicks closed behind her.
and then it’s quiet. like, really quiet. you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. feel your pulse in your wrists, your neck, between your thighs.
his hand is still on your face. still warm. his thumb swipes across your cheek like he’s wiping something off that isn’t there. maybe a tear. maybe pride. maybe denial.
you should move. say something. lighten the mood. make a joke. pretend it didn’t affect you the way it did.
but you can’t.
your hands are in your lap, fingers twisting into themselves, your thighs sticky, your heart doing too much in too small a space.
you finally whisper, “i thought i could handle it.”
he exhales. long. slow. then tucks a stray braid behind your ear. “i knew you couldn’t.”
you wince. something subtle, but he catches it anyway. not because it hurts. but because it’s true. because he knew you. “then why let me do it?” you ask, voice breaking.
“because you needed to prove something to yourself,” he says. “and i needed you to stop lying.”
you blink fast. try not to cry. you don’t even know why the tears are there. anger? shame? grief? heartbreak over something you don’t even have?
jude slides closer. presses his forehead to yours.
“it’s not just sex for me,” he says. “hasn’t been. for a long time.”
and you hate how much you needed to hear that. how much your body leans into it like it’s instinct. how your fingers finally find his, link between them tight, desperate.
he kisses you again. not hungry. not frantic. just... honest. you whimper into his mouth. he swallows it like it’s precious. his hands slide up your thighs, slow. familiar. he doesn’t ask this time. doesn’t wait for permission. because he already has it. he always did.
he pushes you back into the mattress and settles between your legs like he was born to be there. like he never should’ve left.
this time, it’s just you.
no audience. no pride. no pretending.
just you. and him. and the truth you can’t run from anymore.
he doesn’t rush.
for once, there’s no game. no teasing. no show. just hands that know exactly where you ache, a mouth that presses warmth into all the places you forgot needed softness.
your back sinks into the mattress as he hovers above you, weight resting between your open thighs. his eyes roam your face like he’s seeing you for the first time—even though he’s seen everything. even though he’s had you spread under him more times than you can count.
this is different. you know it. he knows it.
his fingers brush up your ribs, slow, like he’s checking to see if you’ll flinch. and you almost do—not because it hurts, but because it feels too good. too much. you’re too raw now. there’s no ego left to hide behind. no mask.
you’re not just fucking anymore.
he presses a kiss to your cheek. then your temple. then your nose. then your lips, slow and heavy, and you tilt your chin up to meet him fully.
he tastes like something you’ve been craving your whole life.
you feel him shift—his tip nudging at your entrance, and you inhale sharply, hand gripping the back of his neck.
“you okay?” he whispers, voice hoarse.
you nod. fingers tightening. “yeah. just... slow, okay?”
he nods too. kisses your jaw. your collarbone. his hand finds yours and he laces your fingers together right above your head. keeps them there. like he wants to hold all of you at once.
and then he pushes in.
your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, like your body’s just been waiting for this, like all the chaos, all the jealousy, all the pretending didn’t mean a thing because this is where you were always meant to land.
jude sinks in all the way, slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath catching in time with yours.
you shudder.
“look at me,” he says, so quiet it’s almost just a breath.
and you do. because how could you not?
his eyes are low and soft and full of something he still hasn’t said yet, but you feel it. every thrust is unhurried, like he’s trying to write it all into your skin, like if he moves too fast he’ll miss a word.
your free hand slides up his back, nails dragging just a little. he groans into your neck, hips stuttering. his rhythm never breaks, just grows deeper. more intentional. every movement says i see you. i want you. i know you.
he kisses your chin. then your chest. then lowers his head and puts his mouth on your tit, hot and wet and open. you moan, legs tightening around him. his hand still grips yours, grounding.
“you feel so good,” he mutters into your skin, words trembling, slurred like he can’t quite hold them steady.
you’re breathless. your other hand cups the side of his face now, thumb brushing the edge of his mouth, his jaw, his cheek. he leans into it like he needs it, like that touch is the only thing keeping him whole.
and when you arch up and whisper, “don’t stop,” he doesn’t.
he fucks you slow, and deep, and close—like he’s not trying to get off, like he’s trying to live here. like he wants to bury himself so far inside you that the world can’t reach him.
you start to cry.
quiet tears. not from pain, not even from sadness. but from the weight of it. the release. the truth of what you’ve both been pretending not to feel for months.
jude notices instantly. his thrusts slow even more, just his hips rolling, grinding so deep you whimper. his thumb brushes your tears away, lips trembling against your cheek.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”
you shake your head. “you didn’t. i just… i think i love you.”
and there it is. the silence breaks. everything breaks.
his eyes close. he exhales hard. like he’s been waiting years to hear it. then he opens them again, stares right into you.
“i know,” he says, like it’s always been that simple. “i love you too.”
and then he kisses you.
for real this time.
not out of hunger. not out of habit. not because it’s what always happens in the dark.
but because he means it.
he fucks you through it, hand still in yours, his body curled into yours like he wants to fuse with you completely. and when you cum, it’s not loud or messy—it’s a full-body ache, a soft quake from the inside out. you shudder under him, tears still hot on your cheeks, mouth open in a gasp you can’t find words to finish.
he follows soon after, buried deep, groaning low into your neck as he spills inside you, his whole body shaking.
neither of you speak for a long time. just stay like that. holding. breathing. trying to come down from the kind of high no one ever teaches you how to survive.
eventually, he rolls over, but keeps you pulled to his chest. your head rests over his heart. his fingers trace your back.
you whisper, “she’s never coming back here again.”
jude laughs, soft. “she was never supposed to stay.”
and neither of you say it, but it’s clear—
this was never about her. it never will be.
it’s always been you. and him. and this thing you tried to pretend wasn’t real.
Jude Bellingham request where the reader teases Jude about the news that England players will be allowed to take viagra for the Mexico vs England match because of the altitude. And she makes a joke about how his size and how it might cause and offside.
VIAGRA - ju. bellingham
click here for part two!
inwhich! you tease jude about him and his team taking viagra before the mexico vs. england game.
frannytalks! this is so short, didn’t know if you wanted smut haha, i hope you like this! and he lowkey would cause an offside. 👀 don’t forget to join my taglist(s) here!
jude had always left his phone unattended and you would have to shut it off for him. this time he left it on the kitchen table while he was getting ready to go for a game, you were mid yelling his name to get his phone but you stopped before you could finish.
you saw his team group chat going crazy and you had to take a look. as you looked and scrolled you saw mentions of taking viagra for a joke because of the altitude.
you laugh to yourself quietly as jude comes up behind you, “you said my name love?”
you slightly jump, turning his phone face-down, “oh, yeah, your phone.”
he gave you a quick kiss, “thanks baby.”
you grin to yourself, knowing what you’re about to say to him, “you feeling okay?”
“yeah, why?” you furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing his phone.
“even after the viagra?” you hold in your laugh, “or did you not take that yet?”
jude gave you a “really?” look as he rolled his eyes, chuckling softly, “okay y/n, enough.”
“you sure you’ll be able to play tonight baby?” you say, finally letting out a loud laugh.
“i’ll be fine, y/n, were you going through my phone?” he says, scrolling through messages.
you nod no, “why? are you all planning to take it at the same time?”
“y/n.” he says, glaring at you.
“maybe you shouldn’t jude, your size might cause an offside while you’re playing.” you wink, brushing your fingers across his lap.
he twitched, backing away, “shut up.”
“maybe i should help you out!” you say loudly while laughing because he’s walking away.
“just start the car!” he huffs from your shared bedroom.
“you sure you still want to go? they might not let you play with a third leg!” you bite your lip, holding in your laugh once again.
he didn’t respond, “it’s okay to have three legs, don’t be ashamed jude!” you say, finally grabbing the keys and walking away towards the car.
summary: you said u weren’t into footballers, yet somehow you end up in jude’s bed after a night at the club | pt 2 of In Your DMs | MDNI 18+
warnings: smut, oral (f & m receiving), overstimulation, slightly public sex via phone call, alcohol consumption, themes of public attention/fame, language
wc: ~3.9k
💌: pt 2 as requested! pls remember me different, i am ovulating 🤸🏾♂️
song inspo: Party Girls x Victoria Monét ft. Buju Banton
Cool night air slapped you with reality when you stepped out of the club with Jude, but it didn’t last long. He walked you toward a black Mercedes parked in front with tinted windows. You could see a driver already holding the door open and inside there were galaxy lights shimmering on the ceiling.
“Go ahead” Jude motioned inside the car, smirking because he knew you’d be cursing his name for the next few hours, and not in the way you did earlier at the club. You hopped into your seat and he followed shortly after, filling the car with the scent of seat leather, your creamy coconut perfume, and alcohol wafting from each others lips. Jude spread his legs out, encroaching your space while you tried to keep a respectable-ish distance. You tilted your head back, pretending like you weren’t hyper aware of him watching you. The second the car door shut, he broke the silence.
“C’mere.”
You didn’t look at him, knowing he was probably trying to pull you into a compromising position in the car. “I’m good right here.”
“Are you?” He leaned in close, giving you a smug look while trailing his hands up your thigh. You tucked your lips in and blew out through your nose to try and gather yourself. Thighs were a very sensual zone for you and the higher he trailed, the wetter you became. “Stop the act Y/N.” You bit back a whimper when he kicked your legs open with his own foot for easier access. “You want it so bad you’re shaking.”
“I’m not shaking” you lied even though your thigh was flexing against his hand. You shifted in your seat, trying closing your legs to avoid the heat pooling from his touch but his leg was in the way. You didn’t want give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm around like that, but when his hand crept up even higher, you bit back a gasp. “I’m g-good,” you repeated with twitching legs from the feathery light feeling of his fingertips.
Jude tilted his head up with a cocky smirk, searching your eyes to catch you in your lie. “Yeah? You sure about that?” He squeezed your thigh and rested his hand right below the spot he wanted to touch the most, making you glare from his confidence.
“What point are you trying to make Jude?”
“My point is…” he began while dragging his hand back down to tease you. “You’re sitting there acting like you don’t want me but we both know you do.”
You were crumbling faster than you wanted to, so you scoffed a laugh to mask wanting to hop on him right then and there. “What???”
“You heard me. Stop pretending and come here.” Jude came in closer and trailed his lips over your neck, making you lean into it while you bit your lip.
“We’re in a car…” you answered just as Jude scraped his teeth over the pulse point on your neck, making you whimper in response. Having decorum was your plan, but something about being drunk after a night of dancing with Jude in the club had you ready to risk it all.
“Never cared” He leaned back just enough to look at you and you swore he was undressing you with his eyes. Once you saw him wet his lips with his tongue and drop his eyes to where your dress rode up, you knew you were done for. In one swift motion, he gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his lap before you could push back. Your knees hit the plush leather and he smirked at you while trailing his hands down to rest on your ass. “If you don’t want it, tell me. Use your words.”
You definitely wanted it now, so you stayed hush which satisfied Jude but also pushed him to tease you even further. His large palms gripped the cheeks of your ass to pull you against him and your head dipped back in a mix of frustration and arousal. “You’re so cocky.”
“Say that again,” Jude laughed, pressing you tighter against him so you could feel how hard he was for you. The contact made you stifle a moan and clench your thighs against his instinctively. “Say it while you’re grinding on me like this.” He shifted his hips under you to press his cock against your core, making you dig your fingers into his shirt while he guided your movements with his hands. “You thought you had it under control tonight and now look at you.”
“I-” you wanted to fire back, but his hand dipped under your dress to trail the edge of your panties, making you jerk into his hand out of pure desperation.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He gripped the sides of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss that was all tongue and love bites on the bottom lip. When he finally pulled back to catch your dazed expression, he brushed his thumb over your lips with a sinister grin on his face. “You’re soaking my jeans, angel. You need it that bad?” The cocky lilt in his voice set you on fire and you wrapped your lips around Jude’s thumb to give him a sneak peek of what was to come. He sucked in a breath and took his thumb from your mouth to pull the top of your dress down, making your boobs spring free.
“Fuck. Such pretty, perfect tits,” he whispered while raking over your chest in appreciation. His mouth latched onto your nipple and you arched toward him, gripping the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around, lightly biting the sensitive bud.
“Shit” you gasped from the sting, clencing your thighs tighter around him to grind down while his other hand squeezed and kneaded your other boob.
“You’re so beautiful” he spoke against your skin, switching to your other nipple with the same greed and tugging it between his teeth just to hear you hiss. “And you’re making the sweetest fucking noises for me.” When Jude finally pulled back to look you in the eye, his pupils were blown with hunger. “We can keep going here,” he muttered, still kneading your chest, “but I’d rather fuck you properly in my bed.”
“You sure you can handle me for that long?” you quipped while grazing your hand over his hard-on.
“Keep chatting shit and I’ll show you how long I can go.”
Jude lifted you off his lap and signalled for the driver to drive faster while you sat back in your seat bewildered. He was acting like he hadn’t just been latched onto you like a starved man while you sat down with Niagra Falls between your legs. The ride back to his place was filled with heavy breathing and teasing touches that had you ready to snap, but when you finally arrived at his house, he seemed to be in more of a rush than you did. Jude barely gave you time to take in the size of his place before he was opening the door and leading you inside with him. The second the front door closed, his hands were back on you. “Let me show you around,” he teased, pretending to be polite when in reality he really wanted to put you through the mattress. He kissed the corner of your jaw and moved his lips to your ear, nibbling. “Or I can show you around after I ruin you?”
You fumbled with the button of his jeans, eventually unzipping them to grab his dick right through his briefs. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Jude groaned, forcing himself to step back. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the house. “Bedroom’s this way,” he said as if you had any fucks to give besides the one he was about to give you. You didn’t care where the bedroom was, you would’ve taken it against the front door or even the stairs but you didn’t want to seem too eager after your hard-to-get performance at the club. When you made it to his room, you were barely holding it together when he pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his muscled, shirtless body. His jeans came off next and he pulled the bottom hem of his briefs up to show off his thighs and massive bulge. It made you shake your head because you saw him do the same thing at some of his matches when he wanted to tease his fans, but this was just for you.
You couldn’t pull your eyes away.
“Like what you see?” Jude smirked. His briefs joined his jeans on the floor and your jaw opened from the shock. You heard he was big but seeing his dick in front of you made you audibly gasp. It was thick, heavy, and had its own gravitational pull. It swung toward you with each step he took forward and you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs together. Jude caught the shift immediately and reached for you. “What’s wrong, angel? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.”
You swallowed hard, trying to get it together. “Please. I’m not scared.”
“Good.” He grabbed your neck gently and brushed his thumb under your jaw as he tilted your head to look up at him. “Take this dress off.”
“Take it off me.”
You weren’t boldly challenging him in the way you thought you were. Jude didn’t need to be told twice and took the dress off of you in a quickness, leaving you only in your soaked panties. “Look at you,” he muttered in appreciation. “So fucking gorgeous. Let’s see how ready you are for me.” His hand slid up your thighs and he spread them for you, kissing his way to your core. He hummed when he saw the wet patch on your panties and dragged his thumb over it with enough pressure to make you whimper. “You’re so wet” he cooed with awe. Jude had to peel your panties off of you because you were so wet they clung. When his finger slid inside of you, your eyes rolled back from the fullness. If he had you like this from one finger, you had no idea how you were going to react from his dick. Jude smiled as he watched your face contort, then he added another finger in. “You gotta open up more for me baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax for me.”
The way he softened his dominance to make sure you were ready somehow made you even hornier, and you grinded against his fingers already a mess from his touch. Jude had you hanging on by a thread from the way he thrusting his fingers inside of you. Every time you clenched around him, your hips bucked in a pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, but everytime you were about to, he’d pull his hand back and leave you gasping for air while kissing the inside of your thigh to soothe the ache.
“Jude” you whined, barely able to breathe from how good it felt.
“Shhh, don’t start begging now. Took you long enough to answer me so I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kept you spread for him and trailed his lips closer to your pussy, yet not close enough for what you wanted. You were a goner and he was loving every second of it.
“Pleaseee,” you begged while squirming around from the heightened sensation of his warm breath between your legs.
Jude tilted his head, smirking against your skin as he kissed higher and skimmed the edge of your folds with his lips. “More?”
You nodded frantically, grabbing at his head to pull him down but he was stronger than you so you had to settle for begging now that he was in control. “Jude please. I need your tongue.” As soon as you said it, he flicked his tongue out with one long stripe between your lips, making you clench your thighs against him. He wrapped his arms on your thighs and slurped between them, teasing your clit with light suction and rhythmic licks while you pushed up against his tongue. He refused to let you cum and pulled away just as your moans pitched higher. “Why are you like this? Just fuck me please.” you begged, gripping his wrist in an effort to pull him back to you to no avail. You fed his ego to fullness with the stark contrast of yourself at the club and between your begging, he grabbed a condom and slid it down his shaft.
“You ready?” he coaxed, spreading your folds with both his thumbs. You moaned a ‘yes’ which made him smirk, lick over his lips, and spit on your clit as a silent way to claim your pussy as his. When he tapped his tip against your clit to mix his saliva with your wetness, you clenched around nothing, fueling you to take matters into your own hands. You reached down to grab his cock while biting your lip, slowly guiding him inside of you.
But then your phone rang.
“Answer it” he grinned, even as his dick twitched from your touch.
You looked at him dumbfounded. “What?”
“I said answer it. Right now.” Jude leaned down and brushed his lips on yours, but then he pulled back. He was beating you at your own game now and it had you dizzy with lust while he reached over and handed you your phone.
Your hand shook as you swiped the screen. “H-hello?”
“Did you guys fuck yet?” Bri’s voice loudly came in through the phone, making you wince. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how was it? Was it everything you imagined? Does he eat it off the bone?? Is the girth to length ratio good? I need to know everything girl.”
You were barely paying attention to her questions while you watched Jude place your legs on his shoulders. He dragged his dick through your folds and rubbed his tip against your clit, making you open your mouth.
“Well?!” Bri’s impatient voice snapped you back to the phone.
Jude pressed his tip inside of you, stretching you out and making you quietly mouth a ‘oh my god’ at him with creased brows.
“Y/N?? Hello?”
“Uh–I–yeah it’s good.” you managed in a shaky voice just as Jude pushed in a little more with a smirk. “Sooo good.”
“And?!” Tasha’s voice chimed in way too clear, making you realize you were on speaker.
“And…” Your voice broke into a sharp gasp just as he gave you a teasing thrust to keep you on edge.
“Wait, is he still there?!” Bri gasped. “Because you’re not really giving us a proper dick report. What about aftercare? Is he a cuddle after kind of guy or did he already call your Uber? He seems like the cuddle type honestly.”
Jude leaned in, loud enough for them to hear over the phone. “Tell them you’re busy.”
“Y-yeah,” you stammered as he pulled out slightly, only to slide back in deeper. “I’m–um..really – oh fuck – busy. Very. Busy.”
“Was that him?!”
“Mmhmm,” you nodded, looking up at him as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. He was pushing you closer and closer to orgasm, making your vision blur from pleasure.
“I can’t” you whimpered quietly as he continued to thrust slow enough to keep you hanging on by a thread.. “I-I’ll call back later.”
“Yeah, she’s still working on the report.” Jude called out, even louder this time. He slid out of you and turned you on your knees, making you arch your back before deep stroking back in with a smack to your ass just as he pressed the end call button. You buried your face in a pillow to muffle your moans when he started hitting a spot that had you squelching into a wet mess on your thighs.
“Jude, Jude, Jude,” you repeated in a chant, grasping at the sheets beneath you. “Deeper.” A dick like his wasn’t something you got to have often, so you were going to indulge, even if it did seem a little greedy to have him fill you completely. He pulled out slowly for you to feel every bit of him, then he gave you deep, calculated strokes with his balls slapping against you for extra sensation. You felt him smack your ass and you arched your back more to throw some back shots of your own.
“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”
Jude slid his hand between your legs to massage your clit and your legs shook from the feeling. You didn’t know if you wanted to cum, cry, scream, or beg so you gripped his wrist instead, squirming. “I’m..I– oh god.”
“So fucking good for me. I need to feel you cum on my dick.” The roles flipped. Jude’s arousal was being fueled by your sounds and now he was begging for you; the way he sounded while talking to you spurred you on.
“Don’t stop talking.” you moaned, throwing it back heavier on him.
“Yeah?” He smacked your ass loudly. “Now you don’t want me to stop talking?” With another deep thrust, he felt you begin to flutter around him and he held your hips down to push you into the mattress. “You gonna cum for me?” You nodded as best as you could with your face pressed against the sheets, strangling out a moan.
“Tell me.” He demanded, feeling your muscles choke his cock with a tight grip.
“I’m gonna cum. Just for you, all for you.” you whined between the sounds of his skin meeting yours.
“Give it to me then. Let me feel it baby.” In a quick motion, Jude wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. He gripped your neck, turning your head toward his lips while peppering kisses on your jawline. “You can’t believe you waited so long for this, huh? Such a good girl now.”
The moan that came out of you after he said that could only be described as pornographic. You clenched around him, flying higher and higher until your body shook against him from the intensity of your orgasm. He held his grip on you, talking you through it while telling you how sexy you sounded coming undone. Once you finally came down to earth again, he released his grip on you, making you fall against the mattress, shaking from orgasm aftershocks.
Jude removed the condom and rubbed your back, laughing at your predicament. “You okay?”
His laugh irritated you so you rolled over and sat up with a nod. “I’m fine. But you didn’t cum?” Your eyes shot down to his dick that was drooling with small beads of precum leaking onto the sheets. You trailed kisses from his thigh vein to the tip of his dick, pampering it with soft, short kisses while he twitched in your hand.
“I thought I’d give you a break.” Jude saw you look up at him through your lashes and he licked his lips, caressing underneath your chin while you continued to tease him. “You clearly don’t want one though, huh?”
You answered by running your tongue along the vein of his dick, licking from base to tip in one long stroke. Jude’s head tipped back with a groan when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just enough to make him flex toward you. His fingers tightened on your hair, guiding your movements while you took him deeper, choking a little when his tip grazed the back of your throat.
“Goddamn Y/N” he threw his head back in shock, but then quickly looked back at you because he couldn’t get enough of the sight. “Don’t stop.” Your tongue swirled around the tip as you pulled him out of your mouth enough to twist your hand around the base. Jude groaned, breathing heavily to hold on to the feeling for as long as possible. “Shit... do that again.” His voice was low but needy. You unhinged your jaw and took him deeper, swallowing to tighten your throat around his cock. Jude’s breathing got heavier and his hips thrusted involuntarily into your mouth for more. You started to feel him pulsing against your tongue as he strengthened his grip around the back of your head. “Stay right there and taste it angel.”
You swallowed around him again, milking him for everything he had while you massaged his balls. When you finally pulled off of him, his chest was heaving, he was sweaty and his eyes were half open while looking down at you. “Your head game is mad dangerous…” Jude leaned back to prop himself up on the headboard and pulled you in a straddle on top of him.
“Is it?” you giggled as he gripped your ass to pull you just above his dick, which was starting to get hard again. When you felt him, you realized you were in for a treat. Jude’s refractory period was damn near nonexistent and the more you kissed, the harder you felt him get beneath you. When he finally pulled back, you were out of breath and riled up all over again. “Round two?” he asked, tapping himself against your folds. You nodded and he grabbed another condom, ready for a long night of ‘meeting your standards’ now that he was outside of your DMs and inside of you.
The next morning, you winced from the sunlight and cracked an eye open – only to be greeted by a room that looked nothing like yours. You shifted around, groaning quietly against the weight of Jude’s arm wrapped around you with his chest pressed against your back.
“Wait. What?”
Scattered condom wrappers were all over the floor. You froze, thinking in a daze while the puzzle pieces of last night came together in your mind. The club, the drinks, an answered DM, and Jude Bellingham. You turned your head to make sure you weren’t imagining things and sure enough, he was laid up next to you with a stupid smug smile on his face even in his sleep.
“Wait..did I– oh my god, I did.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered, scrambling to grab your phone from somewhere in the tangled sheets. You found it buried under a pillow, unlocked it, and opened Instagram. Your stomach dropped. At the top your feed was a still image of you in the club with Jude.
“It’s been like–what? Six hours? How are these people so fast??” You rubbed your hands over your face but it did nothing to undo the situation. You checked your messages and opened your group chat:
Bri: goooood morninggg to the latest star of Bellingham Baddies! i hope the D was worth it babe. i tried to defend you but they kinda ate me up too!!
Tasha: no bc why’d someone make an entire thread about you following jobe but not jude?? i’m sorry but i laughed
You groaned, wincing from your hangover as the text notifications kept going off.
Bri: she’s 100% regretting her life decisions right now
You glanced at Jude who was stirring awake. He gave you a lazy smile and kissed you. “Why are you up so early? C’mere.” he hummed against your skin, pulling you into him. You wanted to be mad at him but when he kissed your neck, mumbling, “Don’t leave yet. Need you to stay here a little longer with me,” you sunk right back into him like you did the night before, biting back a smile. You texted your group chat while Jude continued to scatter kisses across your skin.
You: No. 100% worth it.
You locked your phone and faced Jude who was grinning wide and had his eyes half closed from hangover grogginess.
summary: your boyfriend scored two goals against norway in the world cup quarterfinals, so you decide to reward him.
notes: first fic and it’s with jude! had to write this after seeing the game with norway 😛
warnings: smut!
you stood in the stands, cheering loudly. your boyfriend was playing against norway in the World Cup quarterfinals, and you were cheering him on. "bellingham 10" was displayed proudly on your back as your eyes scanned the pitch for him.
there he was. he was running down the field, gesturing to his teammate to pass him the ball. you watched in anticipation as he received the ball, then moved forward, dribbling past two defenders and shooting. the keeper lunged to block it, but the ball slipped past his fingers, touching the net.
you jumped up from your seat in excitement and celebrated with the people sitting next to you. this was jude's second goal, and you were beyond proud of him for it. you also knew that he was definitely going to celebrate with you later that night.
the match ended in a 2-1 win for england after extra time. you waited by the player's tunnel as jude exited the pitch, quickly kissing him and whispering a suggestive “see you after the game”, winking at him before he was pulled away by his teammates to celebrate.
you made your way back to you and jude's hotel room, knowing he would be held back for a little by post game interviews and to finish up with his teammates. while you were waiting for jude, you decided to surprise him with a treat once he got back. you had packed a dark red lingerie set with white lace in your suitcase for this exact reason, in england's colors. you put it on thinking of jude, and you couldn't wait for him to come back.
you were scrolling through your Instagram feed when the lock clicked open, signaling Jude’s arrival. you quickly positioned yourself on the bed, waiting for him to make his way towards the bed.
“baby?” jude called out as he dropped his duffel bag near the door.
he stopped straight in his tracks the moment he saw you on the bed, his eyes appreciating every aspect of you before he smiled that devilish grin of his which had always made your heart skip a beat.
“all for me, huh?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he made his way towards you. you stood up from your position on the bed, grabbing the neckline of his shirt to pull him in.
“you did so good today, jude.” is all you said before you started to pepper kisses along his neck, making sure you paid special attention to the spot where his neck meets his jaw, which made him groan slightly. you made a particularly noticeable mark there before breaking away to make eye contact with jude.
his eyes were already hooded, clouded with lust and desire. he swallowed as you sunk to your knees in front of him, hands already going to pull down his shorts.
“baby..” he practically whispered out as you pull down his boxers down, revealing his already rock hard cock.
“shh.” you reassured him as you make eye contact. “you were so amazing today, jude.” you spat on your hand, spreading it around on his cock before you licked the tip, swirling your tongue around it and tasting the pre-cum. jude let out a low moan at your actions, his hands going to grab your hair and pull it into a makeshift ponytail for you.
you opened your mouth wide and took him inside, letting out a tiny whimper once his cock hit the back of your throat. you gagged slightly, but you focused on breathing through your nostrils before you started to work his cock.
jude lets out a guttural moan as you began to bob up and down, swirling your tongue against his tip before licking the underside of his shaft.
“f-fuck, baby. feels s-so good.” are the only words he managed to get out before you took him in again, working him to his climax. his length hit the back of your throat again, and you moan against his cock, the vibration causing jude to curse under his breath before using his grip on your hair to tug you closer.
your right hand squeezed his balls as your left latched onto his thigh, grounding yourself as you took your mouth away. you spat on his length again before enveloping him inside your mouth again, making his eyes roll back.
you looked up through your eyelashes at him while you were working him, and you’ve never seen a prettier sight.
jude bellingham was reduced to pieces, courtesy of your work. his head was thrown back in pleasure as his hips rutted forward, desperate for more.
“please baby, oh fuck.” are the words he kept on repeating as you continued to pleasure him. it’s as if he’s incapable of thinking of any other words to speak. you could tell that he’s close - his cock twitched in your mouth slightly and his legs trembled, signaling he was about to come.
his hand kept your head still. he was completely vocal now, something you love about him during sex. his moans grew louder and he pulled your head off his cock before pushing you back onto it again. you moaned around him again, helping him reach his climax.
“fuck, baby I’m coming” are his only words before he threw his head back again, moaning as thick, hot ropes of cum shot down your mouth. you did your best to swallow it all, making sure to not leave a single drop anywhere.
jude slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting the two. jude’s eyes softened, a look of love and adoration in his eyes before he smiles at you.
“you did so good, baby.” jude said to you before pulling you up to your own feet.
“round two?” he asks you, raising his eyebrows suggestively. you pull him in for a kiss, and you know for sure that you’re not getting any sleep that night.
intro ✴︎⸝꙳.˖𖥔݁˖⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ( 3.2k ) jude bellingham x f!reader ╱ when thomas tuchel makes a clear announcement that his players aren’t permitted to have sex on match days, jude’s girl takes a rebellious approach. she has her man’s best interests in mind, but tuchel won’t be too happy to find out a rule has been broken by his star player. . .
notes ♡⋆°୭ 𝟏𝟖+ established relationship of 5 years. unprotected penetrative sex in the recovery room. quickie. softdom!jude. light dirty talk. semi-public. m+f!orgasm. creampie. getting caught!
JULY 11, 2026 ; Miami, Florida...
The Miami sun was beating down on your glowing skin, its light dimmed by the oversized sunglasses you shielded it with as you walked. Later today would be England vs Norway, and your boyfriend was most certainly going to be centre-stage, as usual.
It was the most heartwarming thing to watch him succeed so beautifully and admirably on the biggest platform within the sport, and you felt so privileged to be the woman by his side. The woman of the man who millions of other women yearned for, those who could only dream of being in his arms every night.
The World Cup so far had been incredible—you'd enjoyed every moment, and with the exciting state of Jude's team, there were only positives to be celebrated and praises to be made about this period in his career. Enjoyable so it was, except for one small thing. Ridiculous, really, for it truly was small, but there were certain decisions managers made and rules they put into firm place that you just couldn't get on board with. There were the silly decisions they made regarding the events and players on the pitch, there were the criticisms that you believed were much too harshly declared, and then there was what you believed to be the stupidest of them all.
It had been said before—by Ancelotti, by Alonso, even by Arbeloa earlier this year—and now, Thomas Tuchel had been very serious when he'd declared the same thing.
❛England players may have sex with their partners at any time during the World Cup, except on match days.❜
No, of course you didn't need to be put through the mattress by your man every day of the tournament, but Jude Bellingham never made it easy for a lady to be in his presence without her succumbing to a burning arousal, and even though he was your boyfriend of five years, that arousal somehow burned evermore.
Tuchel had thought the statement quite an obvious and sensible one, a good compromise in comparison to the initially considered approach where the players' partners would be entirely banned from visiting the players' hotel rooms. He realised that approach would be going too far, and that psychologically it would actually affect the men more to be forced away from their women. However, he still believed in sexual abstinence on the day of the game, to preserve energy and focus.
You on the other hand, along with several of the other WAGs, believed that to be a nonsense theory.
These were high-level, elite athletes, with stamina greater than most, and after doing so much exercise, dealing with so much adrenaline, also had sexual needs more than most. It would be cruel to deprive them of such a necessary release—you believed it was almost like a form of therapy, surely? A catharsis drawn from their very bloodstream, bodies needing oxytocin and dopamine to calm their restless and excitable hearts. One round of sex wasn't going to do any harm to their roles on the pitch.
And so, with that strong belief in mind, you found yourself cornering your unassuming boyfriend in the recovery room of England's designated private training base.
Jude took his athleticism very seriously, always adhering to rules in the interest of playing as skilfully and as successfully as possible. It always paid off, so he wasn't about to start messing with what had so far been working in his favour.
But you knew him well enough. You knew that your assumption was correct—that ejaculatory release could only be beneficial, because restriction and pent-up sexual frustration could only ever be a negative thing. You felt that you'd be doing your duties as a devoted, supporting girlfriend, if he'd hear you out and allow you to.
You'd been sitting with the other WAGs, watching your men run up and down, stretching their muscles, groaning with the exertion. Your eyes never left the gorgeous artwork that was Jude's body, and you hadn't realised you were quite literally biting your lip at him in public, sighing with need, pupils dilated though hidden by your sunglasses. You were wearing a tiny white summer dress with white kitten heels—likely a little too overdressed for merely attending training, but most of the other girls were with you on that.
And when a break was finally called—fifteen minutes, to be back there immediately afterward—you didn't wait a moment to pounce on him.
As he skipped over to you, all sweaty and slightly breathless, you did something very uncharacteristic. You hugged him despite the sweat, despite your ivory white mini dress, the one you cherished so dearly. Usually, Jude would shower before touching you after training or after a game, and that wasn't because you cared more about your appearance than your boyfriend—it was because he got so sweaty sometimes that it left wet stains on your summer-coloured clothing, and the paparazzi were always waiting around the corner.
Jude was surprised at the way you wrapped your arms around his neck without restraint, not even hesitating to allow his half-drenched shirt to collide with the pristine quality of your dress.
"Hey, baby, what's this?" he chuckled, holding your waist tight as you clung to him.
"Come with me," you whispered, stood up on your tiptoes to reach his ear. “Inside.”
He furrowed his brows in intrigue, wondering if something was wrong; and then you pulled away, took his hand, and strolled off inside the training complex, en route to your destination.
You entered into the recovery room, its purpose for ice baths and hydrotherapy, therefore of no use to anyone at present. And it was when you shut the door behind you, turning to give him that tell-tale smirk, that Jude realised exactly what you were up to.
"Hi, baby," you grinned, waiting for him to say something as he looked you up and down in amusement. Sure enough, your dress was already stained with patches of his sweat.
"I don't even think I need to ask what you're plannin' here."
"No, you don't, because asking wastes time, and we only have fifteen minutes, so c—" You began to walk into the corner you'd been eyeing as the perfect spot, where a wide couch sat before the wall, but Jude took you by the wrist and guided you back to face him.
"Darlin', we're not doin' that in here," he said plainly. His expression was still amused, but he was being serious, because he was still stuck on his refusal to rule-break.
"Why?" you pouted. "You have to hear me out first."
"Alright, whatever—go on," he smirked.
You interlaced both hands with his, and explained your own theory. "So, it's my personal opinion that Tuchel is viewing sexual intercourse in entirely the wrong way."
Jude raised a brow.
"He's saying it's gonna affect your performance, right? That it'll reduce focus and deplete you of energy, or whatever?"
"Orgasms do suck the life out of me sometimes."
You rolled your eyes. "After the fourth round! Not with a quickie. Nobody said we had to fuck all day and night, but I completely disagree with the statement that sex negatively affects performance." Now you stepped forward, dropping one of his hands to run your digits over his collarbone, a sensual smile on your lips. "I think, that really, it can only make a positive difference."
Jude was grinning wide now, entertained by this display of scientific theory governed by nothing other than the empirical evidence of your hormones.
"Do tell," he joked, provoking you to continue.
You giggled. "Well, we all know how difficult sexual frustration is," you sighed, dropping his other hand now and reaching over the crotch of his shorts, where a growing bulge could be felt beneath. "Surely it's unfair for a manager to force his players to deal with such a thing..." As you spoke, you rubbed and squeezed the weight of him, heart racing as you experienced the familiar feeling of his length hardening further under your touch. "And if you're too frustrated... it might only end up backfiring on the team. Tuchel wouldn't want that, would he?"
Jude shook his head, still smirking, because he refused to visibly fold at the way you spoke and fondled him, even while internally he was going insane.
"And you wanna break that rule in here, yeah?" he asked. "In this room?"
"Mhm. Right now, pretty please..." you sung with faux-innocence into his ear, on your tiptoes again to lean into his chest, still kneading your hand over his shorts.
"Pretty please, hm?" he repeated, with a slight mocking tone that sent a deeper rush of arousal through you. Your panties were clinging tight to your glistening folds—you were surely smothered in arousal beneath that fabric.
"Jude..." you whispered, leaning further forward to brush your lips over his neck, breathing in his scent as your tongue darted out within a kiss to the skin.
You heard him hiss, and he felt your reaction, your widening smile just beside his Adam's apple.
“So," he murmured, "first you’re tryna get me to do somethin’ the boss has made illegal, and now you’re tryna get us caught doin’ it too.”
“J…” you beamed innocently, stepping away now and rocking back and forth on your heels. "We won't get caught..."
He shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile that expressed just how predictable this was. Never would you play by the rules, no matter how high-stakes the game ahead. And again, you truly were a firm believer in your own opposing theory that pre-match sex could only be beneficial to England’s star player. It would excellently boost morale, and that was the most crucial quality in this stage of the competition, right?
Without needing to give another plea, you twirled 180 degrees, before strutting over to the smallest corner of the room, past a row of red light therapy beds. Jude followed in tow.
And there you stood by the plush grey couch, admiring it as the most ideal, most comfortable piece of furniture to have a quickie on. It was almost like it had been placed there for that very purpose. The universe knew to give you the idea that you should enter this specific room, because the act really was what Jude needed, even if he might have fought it initially. Now, he was coming round.
"Sit down, handsome," you smiled, guiding him to do so, and even despite another amused eye roll, he did. He sat up against the back of the couch, settled into the furniture with a demeanour that gave away what words didn't need to. He was on your side now.
You giggled as you straddled him, legs bracketing his strong, muscular thighs. "’m gonna ride you, baby—'n I'll be quick, I promise."
"Better be, sweetheart," he murmured, smacking your ass harshly. You yelped, arching your back and taking that as an incentive to begin rocking over his clothed dick. As you did, you watched him raise his right wrist slightly, checking the time on his watch. "Just under ten minutes now, c'mon. If y' need it that badly, y' gonna have to start speedin' up."
You were grinding down harder now, his dick straining through his boxers, your pussy perfectly prepped in its drenched arousal. There would be no time for foreplay—although it was true that you pretty much always needed it with Jude.
Wasting no more time, you tugged at his waistband, pulling both layers down just enough to free his achingly hard cock. It stood up with a pop, thick veins running all along from base to tip, precum leaking from the slit and down the underside. You almost physically salivated at the sight, as though a dog in heat had met its human form.
"Can't be starin' too long, baby," Jude smirked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. You were lost in your own world, always amazed by how lucky you were to have this perfect asset waiting for you every single day.
You chuckled, grinning as you pulled your soaked panties to the side and rubbed the weight of him along your dripping sex. The head of his dick provided the perfect friction, and you spent a few moments too long just gliding it up and down your folds, the anticipation of him filling you almost as satisfying as the fullness itself.
Your eyes were clamped shut, revelling in the feeling, but you had a sharp awakening when you felt Jude's hand suddenly slam down on your asscheek again. He was never intentionally too harsh, but your ass was just too pleasing, too pretty to look at...
"C'mon, princess," he ordered, with a raised brow. "Would've been easier if I'd fucked you against that wall, no?"
"No, baby, shut up, 'm fine, just let me—ohhhhh..." Finally, you eased down onto him, hands immediately gripping his shoulders with the impact of his girth stretching your tight walls.
"Aw, that's it..." he both cooed and groaned, hands settling at the curve of your ass to guide your position.
"J, you're so—oh, mmm, God..." You babbled incoherencies while you slowly took every inch, and of course he talked you through it.
"Yeah, that's it, c'mon now, baby... Nearly there..."
"Just a little more... Takin' it so well..."
"Pretty pussy, squeezin' me so tight..."
His words only made you even more insatiable, and as you finally sunk down, his girth nestled perfectly in your heat, you began to bounce. There really was no time to waste, and you hadn't planned on going slow.
"Oh, yes, fuck, that's my girl," Jude moaned beneath you, gripping your hips and your ass so tight that you were certain there'd be bruises if he kept it up.
"Yeah, you love how I bounce on you like this, baby? Feels so good, J..." you whined as you lifted your hips up and down, chasing your peak. You raised your hands to meet your clothed breasts, kneading over the tissue, but wishing the style of fabric had instead allowed for your man's easy access, because his hands on your bare skin was nothing short of heavenly.
The feeling of him filling you up was another slice of heaven, and on his dick you moaned like a whore, rocking back and forth, making figure-eights with your hips.
"So fuckin' tight for me, sweetheart," Jude muttered under his breath, looking up into your ever-fluttering eyes. "Y'so needy, always thinkin' about gettin' fucked..."
You giggled through another whine, placing your hands on his chest now to help with balance as you surrendered your body to him completely. You rode him with force, high-pitched sounds spilling out of your throat with each alteration in movement, and now it was even clearer to you: this was certainly what every player in this World Cup needed to proceed successfully. What could be more galvanising, more energy-inducing, than the inspiring motivation of a woman's sex? You knew Jude would be thinking about this throughout the rest of the day—you knew he'd get flashbacks during the game—but never did that mean a disruptive distraction. No—you were essentially his muse, his source of stimulation to drive him to success, that last piece of the puzzle on top of all the hard work he put in. As your pussy squeezed his aching length (for the fourth time in the last twenty-four hours, mind you), you ascended toward climax, riding impossibly faster while the outside world became a blur, nothing existing but the two of you...
"Oh, Jude, 'm gonna cum—" you nearly screamed, rubbing circles over your clit now, desperate to reach your peak. Beneath you, Jude was bucking up his hips with an eagerness mirroring yours, and with it he groaned profanities.
"Yeah, baby, fuck—need you to cum for me..."
"I'm so close, J, oh, yes..."
The couch, as sturdy as it was, creaked beneath you, and you bounced your ass down onto him as hard as possible, moaning without restraint as Jude grabbed and smacked at the flesh, wet snapping noises echoing throughout the room and surely through the hall. You leaned down to kiss him as you finally came, his tongue swallowing the extent of your lewd sounds, although you'd already made enough of a noise in the last few minutes.
He was so close too, and with a few more thrusts upward into your sweet spot, his orgasm crashed through his sensitive body.
"Shit, I'm gonna cum, oh—that's it, take it, baby..."
Hot ropes of cum shot up into your womb, filling you wholly as you sighed breathlessly into his neck, collapsing forward.
"J, oh my..."
Jude caught his breath too, blinking rapidly to bring himself back to earth. He'd obviously be fine to play tonight, but would he definitely be fine to resume training with his teammates in—he checked his watch again—just two minutes time?
"Shit, darlin', you've got me fucked up," he murmured in your ear, and you smiled wide, peppering kisses all over his face. He mirrored your expression, relishing in your facial kisses, but internally cursing the fact that he'd have to pull out in a moment. His cock was softened now, but your wet, cosy heat felt too heavenly enveloping him, and he wished the rest of the day could be called off so that he could spend it with only you and your ethereal body. In that room, so perfectly entwined, it really did feel like you were the only two people inhabiting the earth.
In reality however, you weren’t, and in a moment someone would be reminding you of that. While Jude's mind might have been still half-focused on his responsibilities, neither of you expected what came next.
Suddenly, the door creaked open from the opposite end of the room.
"Oh my God—fuck," you both cursed in unison.
Luckily, whoever it was couldn't see you both from that entrance, so, in your shock and panic, you each managed to detach, jump up from the couch and rush over to another corner just in time, fixing yourselves to look presentable.
But there was cum on the couch, and more dripping down your thighs. You'd clean the couch once the person had left, but what were you to do about the sticky mess on your legs? Jude was trying not to laugh, and you kept nudging him, needing to get him to shut up.
"Stop it, you idiot—they'll hear!" you whisper-shouted.
No use, of course; and now the individual was facing you. While earlier you'd praised the universe for granting you the perfect room for sex, you now cursed those same stars for putting you in this horrifying position. Because indeed, the individual facing you was none other than Thomas Tuchel himself.
As he looked you both up and down, you literally almost fainted and threw up at once. The two of you weren't indecent, thankfully, but it was incredibly obvious what you'd been doing. The flustered look on your faces told of that alone. Jude wasn't laughing anymore.
"Had a nice time?" he asked, with a sincerely raised brow.
You both stuttered, and in the awkwardness you decided it had to be Jude to deal with it, because you weren't the one on personal terms with the England manager. Quickly, you rushed into the bathroom just behind you, knowing that no action you made could be more embarrassing than what had just happened, and in there you leaned against the door, clamping your eyes shut in embarrassment.
After a few moments to collect yourself, you then cleaned Jude's cum from your legs, fixed up your hair and your dress, and once player and manager had left the recovery room together, you finally stepped out.
Attending England's training sessions would go on to feel a lot different from then on, and you only hoped that your reckless morning wouldn't make it past those four walls and into a headline.
synopsis . How watching a movie with your roommate goes wrong. pairings (separate) . Toji x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader.
content . afab!reader, non-curse au, unprotected sex, dry humping, degrading, praise, dirty talk, filth, pussy slapping, tw: spitting, they’re all pervs, heavy tension, pet names, pining, men losing their confidence once they feel you, submissive men, taunting, cockwarming, manhandling, rough sex, teasing, begging, etc.
word count . 9.6k || author's note: doja release the full song pls </3 banner art from “Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi” (this is a slightly revised repost)
☆ Toji Fushiguro — "There's a sex scene coming up."
The first thing you do is laugh at the man. He told you that as if you hadn't seen a thousand sex scenes before.
Rolling your eyes, you barely move in your seat, "So?" You huff back to your awfully smug roommate.
Now, you and Toji get along relatively well. The attraction between the two of you is noticeably mutual so it doesn't fully surprise you that he felt the need to announce the next part of the movie to you. The two characters were already slopping each other's faces up so it was pretty obvious where things were going.
As such, that doesn't exactly prepare you for the next thing your roommate decides to say to you.
"We should recreate it," Toji suggests, completely catching you off guard.
You and him have done… things before but, never sex. Or at least, you’ve never had his cock inside you. Maybe you’ve sucked him off once or twice and maybe he’s returned the favor two or, six times but—who’s keeping track of all that? The point is, you’ve never had traditional sex with the guy.
He was more of your roommate-with-benefits at the end of the day, if you needed someone to help you get off after a long and stressful day, Toji was offering himself to you and the same vice versa.
So when he suggests recreating a sex scene with you, the last thing you expected was what the actual scene itself was…
“Well, what is it?” You ask curiously, turning your head to look up and the man who was already right beside you.
Toji tips his head to the side and keeps his eyes focused on the screen, “Watch it and see for yourself.”
Feeling slightly annoyed by how he suggested something to you only to not explain what it is he wants to do, you just turn back to the TV and do just that—watching as the movie plays out.
You think you’re turned on rather quickly once the two character on screen start fucking like goddamn rabbits—position after position, moan after moan, and noticeably rough sex occurring onscreen. There’s one position in particular that Toji nudges you at, to which your eyes widen and you tense up.
The man on screen has his partner in a headlock as they fuck them from behind. All you can do is bat your lashes as the scene with that position plays out far longer than the others, words of filth being muttered and the moans sounding awfully real.
Your mouth opens to ask your roommate something but he’s already in your ear before you get the chance to, “Yeah, I wanna try that with ya’,” Toji whispers.
A wave of heat flashes over your entire body and you’re squeezing your legs together at the thought alone. Toji behind you like that, shoving his fat angry cock inside you while his beefy arm constricts around your throat, limiting air from you and—
Yeah, you weren’t shying away from that offer, even though you had your fears.
“T-Toji, you wanna-, hah, you wanna put me in a headlock?” You sputter out in surprise, “We’ve never even had sex in a normal position… I don’t think I can take-”
“You can,” He cuts off rudely, “Jus’ gotta let me prep you. And I’ll be gentle,” He murmurs to you, even though you know that’s a lie, “…’Til you get used to me.”
You chuckle nervously, “I dunno… You-,” A sigh slips from your lips, “You wanna do this now?”
He nods, “Mhm,” Then his hand is moving to yours and he pulls your touch over to his crotch, “Got hard jus’ thinking about it.”
Instinctively, your hand moves to feel around and your fingers shape around his erection, cupping his stupidly hard cock and feeling him throb beneath your touch. You gulp before you glance down at your hand and the way it looks sliding down along his length against his sweats, outlining his shape with your touch and pulling your lower lip into your mouth at the thought.
You remember how difficult it was to fit the guy in your throat so you could only imagine him stretching your pussy open, giving you long and deep thrusts just so you could get used to him, and the way he’d force you to feel every thick inch of his.
“You’re droolin’,” Toji points out suddenly as he brings a hand to your face and swipes his calloused thumb across the corner of your lips, bringing his finger to his mouth moments later, “Figured you’d like this just as much as me but look atcha’,” He licks whatever taste from your mouth he got off of his thumb. “A mess already, tsk.” He teases.
You’re just sitting there with your eyes still on his cock straining against his sweatpants, trying to mentally prepare yourself to have that inside you. You swallow thickly, “Toji…”
“Hm?” He hums lowly with a slight cock of his head.
You bring your gaze up to him and his green eyes are already low on yours, “I wanna do it.”
Famous last words…
The smirk that stretched across his scared lips was probably one of the most sexy looks you’ve ever seen on the man. Not to mention the immediate jump of his cock in reaction to your agreement.
And in God knows how many minutes, your clothes were scattered on the floor and he had you bent over on the couch as he prepped you with his fingers. Toji knows how big his dick is– hell, he’s a little too aware of it, so he had to make sure you were extra soaked for him.
Talking to you in that rasp and deep tone of his, “I think you can take me jus’ fine,” He murmurs to you, fucking his fingertips deeper inside yo u with each passing second, “You’re already takin’ three of my fingers so, what’s the difference?”
You moan against the couch cushion your cheek is currently resting against, “Mgh, your cock i-is waaay bigger,” You admit in a horny little slur.
Of course he smiles at that, glad you can’t see his face right now because your words only stroke his ego more and more, “Is it?” As Toji asks you that, he drags his fingers out of you, moving to suck your most recent orgasm off of them before repositioning himself behind you. Then he shrugs, “I dunno, I don’t think there’s that much of a difference..”
He’s still talking but you’re refusing to believe a thing he says. You’ve had your fair share of studying his cock up close so you already knew how he’d feel inside you. Even so, you feel a glob of spit land on your cunt and it makes you flinch out of your thoughts. After that is followed by something fat and hard pressing in between your folds.
The arch in your back furthers and your lips part, “Toji?” You whisper.
A big hand comes down on your ass before he’s gripping onto you, “Mhm, that’s me you feel,” He teases, his other hand busy rubbing his cockhead up and down your sopping slit.
You think a moan leaves your lips already at the mere tease of his cock, “I don’t think-”
“You’ve been doin’ a little too much of that lately,” He huffs, lifting his tip from you before letting it smack against your pussy a few times and then smiling to himself at how wet you were, “Just let me take care of ya’, I'm not gonna hurt you unless you want me to, silly girl.”
A little mumbled curse is heard coming from your mouth but Toji’s only response to that is easing his hips forwards, squeezing his tip inside you slowly as he watches the way you turn your head to stuff your face into the cushion and your hands gripping onto the couch. Toji takes it slow at first, easing his tip in and out of you a few times until you relax a little.
Then he’s pushing an inch or two inside you and he can hear your muffled moans against the couch. Not to mention the way you move a hand back as if to push him away already.
Toji just rolls his eyes at that point, “I’m not even halfway in,” He chuckles, “Relax f’me.”
You try, you really do. It is a bit difficult but you try not to be so tense as he continues to push into you. It’s the first thrust that really had you gasping and holding onto the couch for dear life because after that, Toji repeats the action—drawing his hips all the way back before thrusting himself in fully, all the way to the hilt of your cunt. You’re practically clawing at the cushion below you and your eyes are tearing up from the sheer stretch of his cock.
You could feel him in every corner of your dripping cunt, his thick shaft leaving you gasping for air and his sharp hips clashing against your ass. You hardly register the groans he’s letting out or the curses about how tight you are.
His hands are everywhere on your ass as things start off slow, a few thrusts in and he feels your walls clamp around him before you’re cumming already. He hadn’t even gotten you into the position he wanted you in and you were already whining his name. Toji grips onto the fat of your ass, spreading you further for him as he watched his bulging angry cock ease in and out of you, your sloppy juices coating his veins and dripping all over the damn place.
The mess makes him smirk, “Fuckin’ filthy,” He hums. Then he’s leaning down and you feel your heart sink because after that, a surprisingly gentle hand is creeping around your neck before he lifts your face up. Getting a good look at you, he meets your gaze with a smirk before whispering, “You okay?”
The way he checks on you had your cunt squeezing around him again. “M-Mhm,” You mumble, mouth messy with drool and lashes coated with tears that’d yet to fall yet.
Toji tips his head to the side, still gently rocking his hips into yours and barely humping his cock in and out of you, “Ready to keep goin’?”
It takes you a second to agree to that but when you feel his tip brush against somewhere particularly sweet inside you, you nod eagerly, “Uhuh,” You murmur almost dumbly.
All he can do is smile and lean back up, “C’mere then,” Toji instructs. You follow suit and lean up with him. “Tip ya’ head back for me, here,” He’s still buried inches inside you but he’s instructing you with no problem, moving a hand to your chin to tip your head back, “Just keep lookin’ at me for a second, m'kay?”
You let out a shaky breath of air before keeping your eyes back on his, feeling and watching him lean closer to you and then slowly wrap an arm around your neck, making your breath hitch slightly.
“You sure you're ready for this, doll?” Toji asks as he soon has you take your eyes off of his so he can lock your head into place, “Might break ya’,” He teases.
Your hands move to feel his arm around your neck, caressing his skin before you smile a little, “That’s okay,” You whisper in response, your excitement getting the better of you, “You can break me a little, Toji.”
His hold on your head isn’t the tightest yet, since he doesn’t literally wanna choke you out but, it’s tight enough to where you can’t move and his next thrust has you gasping again. And then it all goes downhill from there because Toji swears you’ve only gotten tighter since he’s put you in this position and you’re so soaked that you’re drippin’ down your thighs.
He can’t help but get a little rough with you. The first few movements were merely experimental but the second you’re comfortable and start moaning for more, Toji’s pouring out a heavy groan right into your ear as he starts to really fuck you.
The couch creaks and your cunt is so loud and messy as his heavy balls smack against you with each bruising thrust of his angry cock. You could feel him throbbing and pulsing deep inside you every time you uttered his name in pleasure. The position had you weak, your legs shaking within minutes and your nails scratching at his arm.
All as he whispered filthy things in your ear, “So fuckin’ messy for me,” He huffs, earnig a whine from you, “You like this, huh? Like bein’ my messy lil’ thing?”
“T-Toji, oh fu-uck, s’too much-,” You choke, feeling his arm tighten around you just to shut you up.
“You're takin’ it juuust fine, baby,” His tone is far to sweet for the way he’s bullying your pussy right now, stretching you and fucking you so full that it was getting hard to think.
His hips were harsh against yours, smack after smack, making your moans come out in a stutter and a slur as he murmured degrading little nicknames into your ear seconds later.
“Gonna cum for me again? I’ve already gotcha’ folded up like some whore-, mgh… it's the least you could do for me, doll,” Toji grunts into your ear, his swollen cockhead pounding right into where you need him most.
Your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull and you’re spasming, “Tojii, I c-can’t-, ah, hahh-, hnngh.. p-please,” You mewl, dewy slicks from your cunt glistening all over his fat cock that it even has him panting and losing his breath.
His lips are right against your ear, breath warm and dick throbbing wildly inside you with the way he doesn’t let up on you for even one moment, “One more, pretty. Jus’ gimme one more,” He whispers.
Your breath hitches and you can feel your orgasm building right back up, you were so close and he was fucking you just right. His hold on you gets a little tighter and he pinpoints his thrusts deeper against your sloppy pussy, the filthy squelches only growing louder and louder before you’re whimpering his name.
Toji kisses the tip of your ear softly—feeling the way your cunt just sloshes around his cock and making his eyes go back. You were squeezing him so tightly that it was almost hard to cram his cock into you. Your pussy was so damn heavenly that Toji felt lightheaded for a moment, despite you being the one getting choked out right now.
Before he knows it, he’s fucking a thick creamy load of cum inside you while grunting your name out through slightly gritted teeth. The way you were moaning and whining in return drove him crazy, the sight of your jaw dangling open, drool sliding down your chin, tears rolling down your face—the entire sight and feel of you had his head spinning in pleasure.
Which is exactly why he’s emptying himself into you while you milk him for all he’s worth. He doesn’t even realize he’s released you from that headlock until the sounds of your moans are muffled again. Toji barely remembers shoving your face down and pressing a hand into your arch before ramming whatever's left of his cum deeper inside you.
Then there was the way your legs were shaking and how filthy it was to watch his cum drip out of you as he pulled out. Oh, he was definitely having sex with you again after this.
☆ Choso Kamo — He's too attentive.
You're too focused on the way your favorite actor's busy on the screen going down on the love interest of the movie to realize that Choso's got his eyes everywhere except the TV.
He notices the way you're shifting in your seat, the thumb you bring up to your lips and the nail you nibble on anxiously as the sex scene ahead continues. Choso zones out from the fake slurps and forced moans from the TV, his eyes and ears completely focused on you and you only. Even when you let out a sigh as your thighs squeeze together, he notices.
And he doesn’t mean to stare at you but he couldn’t help it. What about this particular sex scene had you so squirmish? He’s watched them with you before but it was obvious this one was different. Was it the actor? Choso can’t help but glance at the TV to remind himself of who was in the movie, wondering if the big muscular pink-haired man on the TV was your type.
You were practically drooling at this point, hanging off of every word the man said all while Choso quickly put two and two together.
Clearing his throat, you flinch as if you’d been caught doing something you had no business doing, “You alright over there?” Choso hums.
You slowly turn your head to him and your lashes flutter as you pull your thoughts away from where they’d been previously, “U-Uhuh, yeah… Why?” You respond hesitantly.
You were far too caught up in the movie to have noticed how much Choso was paying attention.
He shrugs, “You keep moving,” Choso points out before looking at the TV, “Is the scene making you uncomfortable or something?”
Your brows twist up, “What? N-No, not at all! It’s actually uh,” You had to pause for a second before you decide to tell him the truth, glancing back at your favorite actor on screen, “Well, that’s one of my favorite actors and the scene is pretty hot.”
“Oh,” Your roommate responds, nodding in acknowledgment, “You like guys like that?”
You snort, “Guys like what?”
“Tall, muscular, face tatts….” Choso lists carefully as he narrows his eyes on the actor ahead, “...Pink hair?”
You roll your eyes, “N-No, I just… Well, okay maybe that is kinda my type.” You’re slow to admit that because as soon as the words leave your lips, you’re looking at your roommate and realizing that aside from the hair color, he pretty much fits that description.
Choso turns his head to you and lifts his brows, “Yeah?” He huffs, smirking a bit, “You do know I basically just described myself, safe for the pink hair…”
“O-Okay… so?”
“So, I kinda resemble your type and your favorite actor.”
“Y’know, now that you mention in,” Your head tilts and you lean a bit closer to Choso, studying his facial features closer, “You two do look like you could be related.”
“Wait seriously?” Choso lets out a laugh, “If so that’s kinda funny since, just like him in this movie, I’ve never given anyone head.”
“You’ve never-,” You choke on whatever it is you were about to say as you realize what he just said. “Huh? You’ve never given anyone head?”
He shrugs, “No?”
And your curiosity practically spirals from there, “Have you had sex before?” You ask.
“Yeah,” Choso smirks at the immediate questions you have for him. “I’m not a virgin. But, well, my mouth is, I guess,” He explains steadily before looking to the TV again.
Your eyes remain fixated on his face, “Do you want to?”
“Want to,” His eyes trail right back over to you, “What?”
You lean in again, “Give someone head?”
“Are you offering?” Choso replies casually, licking his lips seconds afterwards.
A smile spreads across your face and you try to flip it back onto him, “Nono, are you offering.”
He stares at you for a long moment, trying to figure out the right way to go about all this. Every muscle in his body was telling him to say yes because, technically, he was offering. He’d been offering silently ever since he first said something. You looked so focused on the damn TV that it almost irritated Choso, he could do whatever that actor’s doing ten times better.
…Even if he’s never done it before.
“Yeah,” Choso breathes out, not wanting to pass up on this opportunity in the slightest.
You gulp, “You-”
Before you get to finish, Choso’s shifting against your bed—maybe movie night in your room wasn’t the best idea. He’s moving closer to you and soon placing his hands on the bed at your sides as he brings his face close to yours. Your eyes are all wide and you’ve sat up completely, heart thumping in your chest at how close he’s gotten.
“Cho,” You whisper, watching the way his gaze changes, “You actually wanna-”
“I can do it,” He utters carefully as he places one hand on your thigh and slowly parts your legs for his body to fit in between, “I saw the way you’ve been looking at the screen anyway so, I know you’re worked up.”
“I-I’m not-,” You’re cut off yet again when Choso leans in and his lips brush over yours for a split second before he shifts to kiss your cheek.
Then he trails those soft little kisses over to your ear, “I’ve always wanted to try, y’know…”
“Try what?” You breathe, feeling his breath caress the crown of your ear.
“Pleasing someone with my tongue,” Choso explains, one of his legs sliding up in between yours up until he brushes against your core and you instinctively move a hand to hold onto his arm. To which he smirks, “And you’re needy for it so, just let me try.”
“I’m not needy for anything, I-” Again, he cuts you off. This time he just pushes his leg forward a bit so that he’s fully pressing against your clothed cunt, earning a pathetic little gasp from you.
“You were saying?” Choso taunts as he tips his head down to your neck.
You scoff, “Shut up.”
“Shut me up,” He huffs back before kissing your neck.
“Fine,” Is the last thing you said to him before the two of you started acting on your whims.
He doesn’t even remember what he was thinking or how he got to this point by the time he’s got his face buried between your thighs. He can hardly think of anything else aside from the glistening slick drooling out of your exposed cunt moments after he’d tugged your panties down. Choso swears he’s never seen anything this wet in his life, his eyes hungry as they study your pussy closely before he even thinks about touching you.
All while you lay before him, your legs held open by his big hands and your eyes low on the way he looked, staring at you so lewdly. For someone who’s never even done this before, he damn sure looked as though he were about to devour you like you were his last meal.
“Shiiit,” Choso whispers as his head tilts along with the excessive dripping from your hole. He’s just watching your cunt twitch and ooze without him even touching you yet. Was his staring doing this to you? (It was).
You gulp, “Don’t just stare, Cho…”
“But she’s so pretty,” He mumbles, almost in awe at the way your cunt only gets wetter, “And responsive… haven’t even touched her yet ‘nd she’s leaking for me.”
He feels the way your thighs try to closer together out of embarrassment but the steel grip he has on you wasn’t allowing that to happen anytime soon, especially as he finally leans in and does nothing more than plant a sloppy kiss against your even sloppier pussy. The wet little mwah that emits into the air as he pulls away slightly makes both you and him gasp.
“Choso,” You practically whine, “Please don’t tease.”
He licks his lips and glances up at you, “You gotta remember, I don’t really know what m’doing,” Choso mumbles in response while he presses his lips against your cunt once more.
Then, his tongue lulls out and he keeps his eyes on yours as he gets that first raw taste of you. His brows immediately twist up and his tongue slicks upwards as his lips shift to cup your cunt. Choso has no idea what he’s doing but you spasm a bit when he slurps your taste into his mouth and lets out a groan against you.
Completely clueless, Choso just does what he thinks would feel good for you after that and for whatever reason, it fucking works. He swears he’s never given head before but the way his tongue was lapping against you said something entirely different. He swirls the slipper pink muscle upward and he’s at your clit within a few moments, flicking the tip of his tongue against it before just toying with you using his mouth.
All as his eyes remained fixated on you and the way you moan whenever he does something right. It’s so sloppy the way he fucks his tongue inside your drooling hole, digging more and more of your taste out of you so he can get it all inside his mouth. Muttering small, “Tastes s’sweet,” against you as he works his lips and tongue.
Even whenever he pulls away for a few seconds, he just spits on your cunt to watch it get messier, smiles at the filthiness of it all, and then dives right back in. Your hand is soon to get lost in his hair and his usual messy ponytails come aloof with the way you tug and pull at him.
Choso worships your cunt, kiss after kiss, lick after lick, and groan after groan. At some point his hands move away from your thighs just so he can feel your legs close around his head as he shoves his tongue in deeper and the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.
“Mmmgh,” Choso grunts against your sopping hole, his eyes flickering back for a moment as you lifted your hip against his face.
He soon tugs his face away for a second just to slap his tongue against your pussy, making you whine in pleasure and call out his name, “Cho, oh fuck… are you sure y-you’ve never-”
“Uhuh,” He’s cutting off as he latches his mouth right back onto you, slobbering all over your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane and moaning against you.
It’s a filthy mess in between your legs—hickies you hardly remember him leaving decorating your inner thighs, a bite mark or two spotted, sweat and saliva left just everywhere, a few splatters of his spit mixed with your juices, and most importantly, a very disheveled Choso feasting on you with not a care in the world.
You don’t even know if you cum, or how many times you do so because Choso doesn’t stop until you’re trembling underneath him. And because it was his first time, that took quite a while but he didn’t care. His jaw had started to hurt and he thinks his tongue was going numb for a second with how long he’d been in between your legs, slurping your pussy, and using nearly all of his face to please you.
You may not have known if you came but Choso did—swallowing everything you gave him down without a care in the world, letting out a whiney moan every time the slick slithered down his throat, and groaning in pleasure each time you came for him.
He wasn’t even talking as much as he thought he would be because he was too focused on your taste and getting more and more and more of it from you.
Maybe next time you let him do this he’ll be a little more talkative but, for tonight, he had a secret intention of making you squirt—no matter how many hours that may take.
☆ Gojo Satoru — "Why're you sitting so far away?"
The moment you were hit with that infamous question, you knew things were going to go left. Of course, if anyone's hitting you with something so cliche mid-movie, it's Gojo freaking Satoru.
You give your roommate nothing more than a side glance from your eyes, noticing how all his attention is on you, "I'm not that far away, am I?"
Gojo weighs his head to the side, one muscular arm relaxed atop the back stretch of the couch as he cracks that annoying little smirk at you, "You're all the way over thereee," He whines before gesturing a hand to the distance between you and him.
The couch you were on could seat a total of six people and you were roughly an arms length away from the guy so you really didn't know what he expected from you.
All you can do is laugh at his childish antics, "Satoru, you said you wanted to watch a movie with me—not cuddle and watch a movie with me."
He wets his lips before smiling at you, "Well, maybe I want a lil' more now..." To which you scoff and he scooches a bit closer to you, “Plus, the movie’s gettin’ boring.”
You roll your eyes at the guy, “No, you’re just impatient. It’ll pick up in a second, give it some time, ‘Toru.”
God, he loved it when you used that nickname with him. Neither of you remember when you first started using it but you know he likes it and he knows the nickname makes his heart race every time you say it.
“You were seconds away from falling asleep before I said something,” Gojo argues. He’s still gradually scooting closer and closer to you but you don’t even mind it at this point.
He’s always been a man who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space anyway so this doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Before you know it, the side of Gojo’s thigh is brushing against yours and his arm is right behind you, fingertips dancing near your shoulder.
“I was not,” You protest before finally giving him your full attention. Okay, maybe you had been falling asleep on the movie but you really just wanted a regular movie night with the guy.
…Not whatever it becomes within a few minutes. Because of course the second your eyes are meeting his, his gaze is down on your lips and he’s lowering his voice as if everything was going according to his plan.
Gojo scoffs, “Yeah you were. There’s no need to lie, sweets. If you were getting sleepy, I can think of a few things we can do that’ll keep you awake…”
You swallow and it takes everything in you not to shift away from him because the masculine scent of his expensive cologne is creeping into your nose and you can feel your body heating up simply because of how close he is to you. “Like what?” You practically whisper even though you knew where your question would lead.
And y’know what, you can’t even say you’re mad at where it leads because you’ve had your eyes on Gojo ever since you moved in with him. So when he bluntly offers himself to you with a swift hum of, “We could always fuck,” You’re left speechless for a moment.
Then he’s leaning in and you’re finally looking down at his lips, your breath stuttering with each inch of space that disappears between the two of you until his lips are practically on yours and you feel his skin brushing over you as he speaks.
“You can even keep watching your lil' movie while we do it,” Gojo whispers, “Just say the word and I’ll-“
“Okay,” You huff out faster than you have time to think.
Because who on God’s green earth would deny Gojo Satoru of sex? Especially when he’s so stupidly close to you and staring down at your lips like the lack of connection is driving him to the brink of insanity.
So as soon as your agreement hits his ears, his lips are on yours, and your arms are moving to wrap around his neck to keep him close.
It’s hot, heavy, and even a bit sloppy as he tugs your lips apart for his tongue to slither in. Once Gojo gets that little taste of you, he can’t get enough. Letting out a low grunt into your mouth as his tongue swipes at the corners and crevices of your mouth, hands moving to your waist and then your thigh just to urge you to hurry up and get on top of him, and his body quickly yearning for more and more of you as the seconds pass.
Then you’re on top of him and he’s letting out a groan as you straddle him, your weight plopping down on his crotch and making his hips buck up against you instinctively. Gojo’s pale veiny hands are grabbing a hold of your waist and he’s deepening the kiss with you, feeling eager and almost starved for more.
Pulling away with a messy little cobweb of saliva hanging in between your lips, he grins, “Why didn’t we do this sooner, huh?” Before you can answer, his hands are sliding down to your hips and he’s quick to guide your body against his, making you grind against his growing erection, “‘Know how many times I thought about this?” Gojo huffs.
All you can do is let out a soft pant that fans over his wet lips, “No but, you should tell me all about it while we fuck.”
Then you’re pushing your lips onto his again and his brows are twisting up in pleasure. Things were moving a bit fast but that didn’t stop the wild twitch of Gojo’s cock as your words registered to him.
Tell you about how he’s pictured you like this while he’s buried inside you, huh? Well, whatever his cute roommate wants, she’s sure to get from him.
A few sloppy kisses and teasing grinds later and the two of you are undressing one another. The movie was almost long forgotten until Gojo told you to turn around for him, he still wanted you to enjoy the movie you suggested. As such, he soon has your hands on his knees as you held yourself up, your back facing him, and your body bare above him safe for the lacy blue panties hugging your lower half.
And lord knows Gojo couldn’t hold back his smile when he caught sight of your panites. They matched his eyes. Surely that was no coincidence? Surely you put those on with the intention of this very scenario later playing out, right?
Gojo’s behind you shirtless by this point, his sweatpants messily tugged down just enough so that he could pull his cock out from the confines of his boxers—his blushing pink tip grazing your noticeably soaked panty clad cunt as he does so. He’s got one hand on your hip and the other tightly gripping the base of his thick cock, angling himself just enough so that he can caress your clothed pussy lips with his tip.
His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he watches himself slip in between your folds against the wet fabric of your panties. The slick from your cunt was leaking from that pretty lace you had on, glazing and coating his tip with a sexy mix of arousal soon sliding down his cock and causing you to let out the most heavenly little sound he’s ever heard leave your lips.
The noise snaps him out of his daze and he looks up to see your head turned to the side as you look back at him with a gaze of pure need. Gojo’s fat tip slips as his eyes meet yours and you feel him brush up against your clit, making your jaw drop slightly and your hips roll instinctively.
He wasn’t even touching you raw yet and you were already a needy mess. Gojo’s slow to glance down at where his cock is leaving sloppy kisses against your cunt, smirking at the sight all over again, “So wet,” He whispers, “Fuckin’ soaked f’me…”
It sounded as if he were talking to himself, his mind in some sort of daze the longer he rubbed himself against you. The tease of it all was driving you crazy. So much so that all you could do was arch your back a bit more for the man and attempt to grind yourself against his tip.
Your movement makes him groan and you watch as he slowly retracts his hands completely just to watch you lather his cockhead up with your arousal, the small squelches from the movement making his face and ears flush with red.
“S-Shit,” Gojo breathes out. It was like all his confidence and cocky demeanor had flown out the window and, again, he wasn't even inside you yet.
You soon grow tired of the teasing and lift your hips a little, earning a whine from Gojo as your warmth is pulled away from him for less than a second. Then, his eyes were glued to your hand and the way you tug your soaked panties to the side, revealing that pretty pussy of yours to him and making his cock jump in reaction.
Gojo couldn’t even try to lift his hips up to make his cock meet you once more because he was stuck in awe as you lowered yourself once more. Watching your pussy part over his tip was one thing in itself but then how fucking soft and wet you are makes his head fall back against the couch and a groan pour from his mouth.
You watch him move an arm to hold onto the back of the couch and his other hand grips onto the cushion beside him. His abs tense as you wiggle your hips against him, his cock just barely kissing your leaky entrance.
Hell, it almost makes you flinch when he moans, “Put it in,” Gojo pants, his entire body failing to move as the need for you overwhelms him, “Please,” He lets out a whine as you inch down on him ever so slightly, “F-Fuckin’ sit on it, baby-, sit on my cock, please? Wanna be inside you s-so bad.”
His hips twitch and he nearly lifts them just so he can sink the rest of his inches deep inside you— especially when you torture him and lift yourself, causing a brush of air to graze his tip where you two had previously been connected.
“Satoru…” You utter, watching his eyes flicker up to your face. “Did you just whine for me?”
Gojo’s quick to swallow whatever weak sound was about to leave his lips again due to the sultry tone of your voice. “N-No,” He huffs, trying to play off his moment of begging for you, “Course’ not… Just,” He gulps, “Just wanna feel you, c’mon.”
Now you’re the one smirking at him, “Beg for me again,” You whisper, to which a groan gets caught in the middle of his throat.
“What?” Gojo rasps, his body going rigid at your sudden command. Yeah, sure, he just begged for you but it’s different when you tell him to.
The way you chuckle at his confusion makes his body so unbelievably hot and flushed in embarrassment, “You heard me…” You purr, easing yourself back down and riding only his tip for a few seconds, “Beg for me, ‘Toru.”
Gojo’s jaw falls and his eyes drop to his cock again— precum was dripping all down along his veins and he was twitching to feel all of you, “Please?” He breathes out as his brows twist up, “I just…” His hips lift again and he tries to force himself up inside you, “Need it, sweetheart,” Gojo grunts before tossing his head back.
At that, you find yourself satisfied and you’re finally sinking down on his cock just like he wanted you to. Your eyes remain back on his face and the way his eyes roll back as an airy groan leaves his throat.
“Fuuuck,” Gojo moans into the air, his bottom lip quivering at the way your pussy sinks down around him, your sloppy walls making the filthiest squelch the further down you go, up until you stop when he’s only half way in.
Which makes his breath hitch. All he can do is roll his head back into place and look at you, catching the gape look on your face, and the clear struggle your cunt was having. You’re so wet around him that your moisture is just oozing down what’s left of his cock that’s yet to be inside you.
“Sweetheart, please,” Gojo pants, “Need you to sit all the way down,” He hums before moving his hands to your hips.
You let off a moan, “So big, ‘Toru…”
Every fiber of his being almost snapped his hips up into you at the sound of that. You had no idea the things you did to this man—letting out a moan like that, telling him how big he is, and using that goddamn nickname…
He can only nod, “Uhuh, I know, I know,” Then, Gojo’s attempting to collect himself because everytime he speaks in that low tone of his, your cunt is gripping onto his fat cock tighter, “J-Just-, hah, just take your time, sweets.”
That’s the last thing he wanted you to do because half of his cock was feeling absurdly neglected at the moment but, he couldn’t help but want to take things slow. After all, the sex was just to keep you from falling asleep, right?
As such, Gojo tightens his grasp on your hips and helps you ease down another inch or two— a hiss leaving his lips with the way your walls squeeze down on his cock.
“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “R-Relax, sweetheart… gonna make me cum before I even get all the way in.”
You start to lift yourself again as if to escape his thick inches squeezing into you, “S’too much, I-I can’t-“
He’s cutting you off and pulling you right back down with a groan, “Shhh, yes you can-, fuck, yes you can,” Gojo coos, leaning up and helping you sink onto him once more.
A moan of his name leaves your lips at the stretch of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut. Gojo’s steady to ease you all the way down until your cunt is meeting his heavy base, and both of you moan once he’s fully inside you.
You’re both panting in sync as you sit there with his throbbing cock inside you, his hardened tip kissing your sweet spot, and your walls clamping around him with every subtle movement of his hands or your hips.
You end up leaning back against his chest and Gojo buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hotly against your skin. His arms wrap around you and it was like he didn’t even need you to move yet. This was perfect for him. Just relishing in the warmth of your pussy for a few minutes, feeling every twitch and every squeeze whenever he kisses you was simply perfect.
The movie that’d been playing in front of the two of you is soon remembered as you return your attention back to it and keep Gojo’s cock sitting inside you with little to no movement for a while.
He was okay with that because, hell, part of him never saw himself even getting this far with you. Although, at some point, without him even saying anything, he feels your hips roll forward and a grunt is ripped from his mouth immediately.
Given his sound, you only grow encouraged to continue and barely lift your hips to bob your cunt up and down a few inches of his cock. The movement was minimal but it was enough for both you and him. Gojo’s hands dance up and down your sides. One moment he’s holding your waist and the next he’s slumping back against the couch and holding onto your hips, watching his cock disappear in and out of you as you ride him in earnest.
“Fuck me,” He ends up moaning. That alone has you bouncing on his cock within a few minutes.
Gojo’s usually so confident and suave with his words and actions but here he was moaning so prettily into the air due to the way you were riding him in reverse. Every roll of your hips and the way your sheeny slick made his cock glisten under the dim living room lighting had him gasping at some point.
He’s pretty sure even you forget about the movie at some point because you’re just throwing your ass back on him over and over again, the constant thwack of your rear against his toned pelvis as you plopped down on him was making his moans come out in a stutter.
You’re pretty sure that if you listened closely enough, you could hear the man choking out some small whimper at some point. But he masks that by giving your cunt one experimental thrust, earning a delicious moan from you.
And of course, it doesn’t stop there. He only continues after that, matching the way your cunt sinks down on him with heavy thrusts as he holds onto your hips for dear life.
“‘T-Toru, fuck, m’close,” You soon whisper.
He hardly hears you because he’s too busy trying not to cum inside you, “You feel so fuckin’ good-, God-, fuuck… s’too good,” Gojo babbles, completely pussydrunk at this point and struggling not to finish before you.
Your pussy’s just gushing around his shaft and he swears he can hardly think at some point. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex in a while, or maybe it was just you in general and the way you have the nerve to look back at him again and purposefully clamp your goopy walls down around his cock but, either way, Gojo can’t even warn you before he’s shooting a thick load of cum deep inside you.
One look from you and he was losing his damn mind, throwing his head back in both pleasure and embarrassment, fingertips trembling as his hips stutter, and a shaky groan slipping out from his lips while you just keep going.
Then he faintly hears your voice, “Did you just cum?”
All he can do is give you a hard lucid lil’ nod, “Uhuh,” He breathes, still cumming inside you like he had no care in the world.
His cum is warm against your insides, making his cock a creamy mess as you slide your pussy up and almost all the way off of him just for him to catch sight of the filthy mess he’d just made.
Gojo doesn’t even care at this point because all he does is slam you right back down, the squelch louder than ever and one of his hands snaking around you. He’s quick to bring two thick fingers to your clit and lean up to your ear, “Need you to cum for me now, p-please, I'm s-so fuckin’ embarassed,” He admits right against the shell of your eat hotly.
You can feel his desperation in the way his fingers roll messy and needy little circles around your sensitive bud. Then he’s whispering plead after plead into your ear, his cock throbbing and twitching against your pussy, cum forming a ring of filth around his base, and your mind going blank with how eager he is.
You think you cum after he says something along the lines of, “Need it-, shit, need it sweetheart, need you to cum on me,” through slightly gritted teeth and his voice cracking somewhere at the end of his words…
☆ Nanami Kento — You wouldn't stop moving.
He should've known better than to let you climb into his lap like that. Each time something exciting or interesting would display over the screen ahead, your hips would roll 'n swerve about his lap and his body would tense beneath you.
From the first shift he should've moved you off of him. Hell, from the moment you asked to sit in his lap to "platonically cuddle" he very much should have told you no.
Alas, Nanami is a very simple man, and for you? He's a very simple, perverted man who couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel the weight of you on top of him.
It wasn't long before you could feel him twitching just under the soft curve of your ass, dick begging for some proper attention despite the way his mouth refused to move with the intent of acknowledging it.
And since you happened to be just as much of a pervert as he was, only a couple of his twitches went by before you were moving yourself. You were dizzy between your motions, turning around and giving him glossy fuck-me eyes for a few seconds before his mouth was on yours.
It would've been one thing to have you beside him and squirming about, but what was he supposed to do when you were sat on top of him and gyrating your hips in the most gorgeous of patterns?
Somewhere between his tongue slicking past your lips, his hands had begun to travel the expanse of your skin—leaving no tense inch untouched.
Next thing you know and you're underneath him, falling victim to the repercussions of teasing him via dragging your ass across his lap for one minute too long.
It didn't take much for you to realize Nanami likes rubbing his thick, drooling cockhead in between the syrupy slit of your cunt for what feels like forever before he slips inside you.
He lazily dragged his plump tip around your twitching clit in tantalizing lil’ circles and let out low curses in reaction to the way you drip all against him—making the filthiest mess on the couch below. His steady hands would have the meanest grip on your thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him the entire time.
All he’s doing is rutting his hips back and forth and back and forth, watching his fat cock slide against your pussy over and over again. It’s almost more arousing than when he’s inside you.
Nanami loves the expression you make when he does this too. The way your brows twist up right as you grow impatient, the greedy hand you shot down to try and angle him into yourself, and the honeyed whines that exit your throat in such raw desperation.
Those fawn eyes of his would soften at the gorgeous sight of you below him and his cock would throb directly against your soaked folds.
Of course he wants to he inside you, he wants to make you feel good and listen to you moan his name all sweetly but… this—the heavy draggg of his cock all over that drooling hole of yours, the feeling of you lathering him up in aroused slick, and the mix of his precum all makes him dizzy with lust. Plus, it's only fair that he gets back at you for teasing.
Somewhere deep down inside, he actually wanted to finish that movie you put on.
Eventually though, he moved one of his hands and wrapped his fingers around his girthy base, tugging his cock a few centimeters up before slapping the weight of it back down against you and causing the nasty sound to flit into the air. Then he’d do it again.
And again, and again, and again until he can feel your leg twitching beneath his palm. “You want it, huhh?” Nanami would drawl out in that stupidly deep and lust-driven tone of his. “‘Want that cock deep inside you, sweet girl?” He’d slowly angle his tip against your hole but his hips are unmoving.
All you feel is the heat of his cockhead pressing against you, the thickness of it, the fucking throb. You can’t even manage out a reply before he’s just barely pushing into you.
Nanami always stretches you so steadily when he fucks you but, after making you wait for so long you can’t help but crave for him to just thrust every inch in at once. You want that rude stretch, that mean, unforgiving spread of your cunt around every pulsing vein of his cock.
Yet, being such a man of aggravating patience, Nanami pulls back just as quickly as he pushed in. You’re left whining without thought, “Kenn—“
“Hmm?” He’d cut you off in a way that lets you know he did that on purpose.
What a tease.
Then he’s pulling back a bit more and his hand starts moving up and down the length of his dick. You think you can feel a nasty trickle of drool slithering out from the corner of your lips as you watch him selfishly jerk off in front of you.
“Kento please,” You’d breathe out all over again, as if that would get you a different result.
It doesn’t. Instead, Nanami’s hand picks up and you watch his breathing grown heavier just as his eyes flick up to your face. Then he cocks his head to the side, “Tell me how you want it, love.” He’d request all of a sudden.
You’re confused and too horny to think so all you sputter out is an airy, “What?”
Nanami lets out a heavy pant and his lashes flutter a bit. “My cock. Tell me how you want it.” He repeats ever so sternly.
Defiantly, you fight back a groan before mumbling to him, “You know how I—“
“Easyy, sweetheart.” Nanami cuts you off in that cooing voice he knows you love.
His head weighs to the left a bit and you watch the way he brings his free hand up to your face. “Look at me,” He whispers, smiling once your eyes so politely meet his own. “There she is, there’s my gorgeous girl.” The praise, uttered so huskily that you’re left dazed beneath him. “Now, talk to me nice.”
With glossed eyes and a slight pout you can’t seem to control, “Ken,” You mewl, reaching your hand down as you desperately ache to feel him.
As if to taunt you, Nanami watches your hand move with a smirk on his face—his own hand tugging at his cock faster now.
He’s all breathy for a moment as he lets your hand wrap around him and pull him closer to you. “Hm? Is that it?” Your roommate whispers, allowing himself to be guided back to your drooling cunt.
The second his fat tip slips against you again, he’s cursing under his breath and letting his hands go to the underside of your legs.
“Fuck.” Nanami breathes, “Is that how you want it?” Then he swats your hand out of the way and moves his own to your lower abdomen. “All that teasing’s got you desperate for it now, huh?”
You whine and he groans at the sound alone. God, you drove him insane. Just looking at you as you laid beneath him a complete desperate and aching mess would be enough to make him cum.
“Kento,” Your voice finally sounds a bit more steady now and you place your hand over his while sprawling your legs out all the more wider. “Just fuck me already.”
It’s rare but, Nanami flashes this cocky expression before tilting his head, “And if I don’t?”
You can feel yourself soaking his tip even more from his taunting alone. Your brows tense and you’re whining all over again, “Please-,”
He cuts you off, “Mhmm, thaaaat’s it.” Nanami praises as he finally finally starts to push his hips forward, letting his cockhead slide right into you. “Beg for it.”
The hand you have on top of his claws at his skin and your hips lift in an attempt of getting him to push deeper, “Kento, fuck..”
“Beg for that cock, c’mon sweetheart.” He teases again, tugging his hips back as he then starts to fuck only his tip in and out of you. “It’s right there, don’t you want it?” He coos—mocking you now.
“Please,” You’re gasping once he lets himself get an inch in, “Shit, Kento please keep going.”
At that, he can’t help but push all the way in. Nanami could only deny you for so long before he was stretching you nice n’ wide for him, sliding every mean inch of his in until he could feel the bulge beneath his palm.
“Fuck.” He curses sharply, appling a bit a weight to his hand just so he can hear the way you moan out his name. “Look at that,” His hips draw back just barely before he thrusts in again, “Can you really feel me in there? Am I really that deep?”
Your eyes lull on back to your skull and now you’re holding onto his wrist as he works up a mean pace. Nanami hits the spot that’s got you drooling in seconds—fucking you exactly the way he’s learned how to.
It takes you a moment to reply to that question of his since you’re too busy moaning at how his filling you up but eventually you babble a cute, “Uhuh..”
To which a fucked-out smile spreads onto his face and his hand presses down harder “Yeahh? Then cum on it,” He instructs, his thrusts beginning to match pace with the not-so-distant knocking of the headboard against the wall.
He feels the way you’re squeezing around him and sees the utterly slutty expression you’ve got on so of course he encourages your orgasm when he begins to feel it.
“Mhmm, all over me, pretty.” He huffs, letting his hand slip just to rub that gorgeous clit of yours, “Just. Like. That.” He grunts between each pounding thrust of his.
You cry out as you make the sweetest mess around his cock and Nanami can’t help but let out a moan of his own. Watching you shiver through your very hard orgasm, he just has to lean down and press his lips to your ear.
“Such a good girl for me.” He whispers with a deeper and heavier roll of his hips as if to fuck you all the way through it.
𓍼ོ handyman!nanami is strong when he fucks you onto air
you clung to nanami’s broad shoulders, legs wrapped securely around his waist as he held you suspended in the air with effortless strength.
the handyman had come over to fix a few things around your place, but the tension between you had built quickly until clothes were discarded and he lifted you like you weighed nothing at all. his muscular arms supported your thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh while he kept you balanced against the wall, cock buried deep inside your welcoming heat.
“hold on to me,” he said in that calm, steady voice, though his eyes burned with restrained hunger. nanami was incredibly strong, his body honed from years of physical work, and he used every bit of that power now. he thrust upward into you with powerful, controlled strokes that made your breath catch each time he filled you completely. the position left you utterly at his mercy, your weight supported entirely by his arms as he fucked you in midair, hips snapping up to meet yours with deep, rhythmic force.
each movement drove him impossibly deeper, the angle allowing his thick length to drag against every sensitive spot inside you. you moaned softly, nails pressing into his shirt as sweat beaded on your skin. nanami’s breathing remained even and measured, but the way his grip tightened on your thighs betrayed his growing intensity. he adjusted his hold slightly, one hand sliding to cup your ass while the other stayed firm under your leg, keeping you spread open for him.
“you feel incredible like this,” he murmured against your neck, lips brushing your pulse point before he nipped gently.
his pace quickened, strong thrusts lifting you higher with every push, the wet sounds of your bodies connecting filling the room. the sheer power in his frame made it seem effortless, his muscles flexing beneath your hands as he drove you closer to the edge. you trembled in his grasp, pleasure building fast from the way he filled you so completely, so relentlessly.
nanami groaned low in his throat when your walls started to flutter around him, his thrusts growing deeper and more purposeful. he held you tighter, fucking you through the waves of your release until your moans echoed around him. only then did he let himself follow, burying himself to the hilt with a final, powerful stroke and spilling hot inside you while still supporting your full weight.
he stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing steady as he kept you safely in his arms, strong and unwavering even after the intensity of it all.
romaincrisis
stormborns
snowghoul
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
