stupid // stan uris smut
a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!
WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!
WORD COUNT: OVER 6K
SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...
Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence.
Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.
Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.
It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate.
However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris.
The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.
It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood.
‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you.
‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’
He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’
He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer.
You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’
‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo.
Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks.
5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind.
Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting.
‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you.
‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’
He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’
He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together.
‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?
Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it.
‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’
Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip.
Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue.
‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’
You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore.
Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’?
But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair.
Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner.
Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game.
It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered.
This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose.
It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire.
You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before.
The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan.
However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan.
You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him.
Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you.
It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room.
Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife.
However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’.
She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room.
Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana.
Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you.
He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh.
You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever.
‘Why do you hate me?’.
The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him.
‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper.
He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’
It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves.
You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’
A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh.
You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’
It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.
He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours.
All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb.
The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey.
Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap.
His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.
You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel.
Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first.
You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt.
His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you.
His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them.
Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees.
Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before.
“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem.
“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.
“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving.
Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock.
‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’
You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed.
A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally.
You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.
"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.
Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.
Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.
Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'
And then it clicked.
Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.
You gave him a real genuine smile.
The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.
Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.
Aw, how cute.
Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.
His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.
This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.
He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.
Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.
There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.
His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.
Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.
"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.
Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.
Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.
He was gonna ruin you.
However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.
Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.
His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.
He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.
As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.
"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.
You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.
And you knew he knew that.
You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.
So why was he doing this?
Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.
He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.
You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.
But, immediately he removed them.
Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.
You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.
He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.
At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.
You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.
But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.
"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."
You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.
You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.
'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'
So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.
You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.
The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.
Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.
However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.
Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.
Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.
You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.
"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.
That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.
"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.
You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.
You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.
Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.
Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.
"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.
As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.
"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.
Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.
He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.
"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.
You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.
You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.
Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.
You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."
The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.
He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.
Holy shit.
You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.
However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.
You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.
Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.
How could you say no?
Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.
You loved them.
Oh my god.
You loved Stan.
Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.
You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.
Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."
You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.
Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.
You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.
You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.
You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."