whenever you least expect it, you find your room overflowing with stuffed animals. but it doesn't bother you that they take up space, or that you drown in them when you sleep, or that you have nowhere left to store them. your shelves are full, and they occupy every corner of your room. they’re on your desk, in your closet, and shelves. on your bed, your favorites and your newest additions. the ones whose welcome still lingers in your mind as you go about your daily activities.
it's not as if you asked for them, or as if you could refuse them. your roommates don't like them very much.
“maybe you can give away some,” they suggest when you’re struggling to find a place for a new one.
you can side with them if you didn't like them so much. “i’m just not ready to let them go yet.” not when the memories are still fresh in your mind.
not everyone understood why mark had chosen you. maybe he had a soft spot for girls like you.
at first, the comments affected you, but nothing like a good stuffed animal to lift your spirits, right? maybe everyone was wrong. mark wasn't trying to take away your innocence, much less corrupt you. they had misjudged you; maybe that was what you expected from him.
of course he noticed you staying a little longer on his lips, dripping from the ice cream he’s eating. “look at that, what a pervert.” but then it’s him teaching you new ways of reaching your high, using the same tongue to drive you crazy while his hands pinned yours against the mattress, out of reach to make him slow down when he used his mouth on your intimacy.
it took you a while to understand, and a series of encounters of you reaching the stars.
your boyfriend loves to give you stuffed animals whenever he can. it makes your roommate dislike him less as the gesture is sweet and romantic; you know better than anyone how sweet it can get.
whether they scare away ghosts at night, he even sprays his perfume on them when he gives them to you. then he makes you blush when it's impossible to keep eye contact as he asks, “have you touched yourself because of that?” as if he could read it on your face; because you had.
not as well as he knows, not as destructive as when he makes you come. sometimes it's impossible not to think about him and stop your fingers from wanting to replace his when he's not around, because you can't. “only i can make you feel this way.”
with your face buried and muffling any sound escaping from your mouth, your mind fill with bliss. you feel his expert tongue enter your mouth and his fingers tattoing in your soft skin while his girth is buried into you over and over, leaving you breathless.
you can barely hold yourself up with your hands, barely manage to stop the tremors from shaking you all over. you collapse onto the bed and bury your face in the soft, fluffy material of the stuffed animal that you've been forced to squeeze tightly every time he penetrates you and you bounce off the bed toward his cock. “agh—!…” incoherent, muffling sounds abandon you while you feel all your senses stir and drive you crazy; his laughing moan escaping his lips as he fucks you harder.
your cheeks are wet, your eyes under the haze of tears of pleasure. entranced, out of breath, you pant when he pushes against your intimacy and your eyes open only to take record of all your teddy bears witness how he mercilessly sodomizes you.
his cock presses deliciously against your swollen, needy spot before he slows down the pace. wet and lascivious sounds come out of the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you, and you find yourself crying his name, feeling your throat pasty. “m—mark, mmm…”
covered in your silky lubrication, a shot of bliss runs down your belly, pleased by the dainty moans that start to fill the room at the beat of his pounding. the same beat of your heartbeats.
flushed and sore, your butt receives every slap he gives you like a caress. your throat feel like sand from your grunts coming out of your mouth at the rhythm of his cock stuffing you. “tell me how much you like how i’m fucking you.”
“a lot,” you cry. “d-don’t stop.”
pressing you against the mattress, his dick hammers your cunt sharply, causing your eyes to slam shut. your drenched pussy accompanies his thrusts with the lascivious sound of your arousal coating his girth every time it goes in and out. feeling his warm breath in your ear as he slams his pelvis rhythmically into you, you take loud exhales with each thrust.
“fuck—” he curses, long and elongated. you sit up just a little with the last drop of euphoria in your bloodstream, receiving each stroke with excessive pleasure. your mind becomes liquid every time he hits you in the sweet spot of your pussy. your eyes roll back and a strange feeling of happiness overwhelms you.
a strangled sound comes out of your mouth when you reach your high in violent waves of spams. shaking and trembling, you crumble between white sheets and teddy bears, coating his dick with your pulsing. “oh, mark!” you moan faintly, whiny, before it all goes black.
sobbing, he brushes your hair out of the way and watches you completely gone. his heavy gaze drink the sight of your naked body still suffering the aftermath of his acts on you. your lips squeeze together as the crushing orgasm leaves you gasping for air and agitated, shaking your body and leaving you painfully full in delight.
he pretends that you react fast when his voice moist your ears as he slips out of you. “c’mon, baby girl. don’t disappoint me.” his voice cut through the mist and it makes you finally aware. he moves you at his will on top of him, and you start to think maybe this is the reason why he chose you. “now ride it.”
