Hi! This is just a little disclaimer for anyone who's curious about my content.
I will be posting a lot of nsfw things here. They may be drabbles, situations, one shots, p links...
Anything that comes to my mind, basically, that's why I'm not uploading a masterlist or anything like that. (Also because I'm veeeery lazy and the list would be really long).
Anyway! That doesn't mean I won't be taking requests. If I post a one shot of a fandom of your liking and you want to request something, give it a shot! But I'm warning you: I won't be very active and I usually have not enough motivation, so it may take me a lot.
That's all, thank you for reading ♡
English is NOT my first language btw, so I'm sorry if there is any mistake.
*ੈ✩‧ Unexpectedly, you end up working as a substitute security guard at the pizzeria for five nights… how will you keep the robots under control?
*ੈ✩‧MDNI: Just like the rest of my content, this is a NSFW SERIES!! So be careful and read ONLY at your own risk. ALSO, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRTS LANGUAGE.
This is the index but also the introduction to the series. I’ll show you a list of which character will appear each night, and after that you’ll get the introduction. You can read it to get more context and decide whether you’re actually interested or not. Also, once the first chapter comes out (Bonnie’s chapter), I’ll post it too just in case.
On top of that, I’d like to clarify that even though the animatronics have humanoid features, THEY DO NOT HAVE THE SOUL OF ANY CHILD INSIDE THEM!! They simply have AIs installed. I am NOT going to write NSFW one-shots about robots possessed by dead children because… eugh, gross.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
Night 1: Bonnie
In progress...
Night 2: Chica
In progress...
Night 3: Foxy
In progress...
Night 4: Freddy
In progress...
Night 5: ???
In progress...
You had quickly realized that working at Freddy Fazbear’s during the night was a completely different experience from working there during the day.
During daytime shifts, your job was almost insultingly easy. You were basically just another security guard walking around the building with a badge clipped to your uniform, making sure no child cracked their head open running through the arcade, no parent tried to sneak into employee-only areas, and none of the animatronics got damaged by overly excited kids with sticky fingers and absolutely no sense of boundaries.
It was simple. Repetitive, maybe a little boring at times, but simple.
You liked simple.
The pizzeria itself was chaotic enough during the day anyway. Kids screaming, music blasting, arcade machines chiming every five seconds, birthday parties happening in at least three corners of the building simultaneously. There was always something happening and a lot of noise and movement to keep you distracted.
It paid decently, your coworkers were tolerable enough, and compared to some of the miserable jobs you’d had before, standing around in a brightly lit restaurant full of cake-fueled children wasn’t exactly torture. So you didn't mind working there.
The animatronics were… kind of cute, which was not something you ever expected yourself to say about robots.
They had been designed with a more human appearance, apparently to make them feel friendlier and more approachable to children. Their bodies were almost entirely human in shape and proportion (altough they were still big and heavy as fuck), with realistic facial expressions, synthetic skin, soft features and smooth natural movements. The only obviously artificial parts were the animal features integrated into their designs—ears, tails, little details that made them stand out just enough to stay fun and visually interesting.
Children absolutely adored them.
And why wouldn’t they? The animatronics were equipped with advanced AI systems capable of holding actual conversations, remembering names, adapting their behavior depending on the child they were interacting with, and generally acting far more intelligently than what you would normally expect from glorified entertainment robots.
They knew how to comfort crying kids, encourage shy ones, keep entire groups entertained for hours and somehow never once looked visibly exhausted.
For you, it had always made the job kind of charming.
You never really interacted with them directly beyond the occasional polite greeting while passing by, but you didn’t need to. They had their routines, you had yours, and that was more than enough.
Well, until now.
You heard that there had been some kind of accident during the night shift involving one of the animatronics, and now Michael was out.
That alone had been enough to leave you standing there like an idiot, staring at your manager with your mouth slightly open.
An accident?
With one of them?
How the hell did that even happen?
That was unsettling.
You’d seen those robots every day for months. Sure, they were large, technically strong enough to accidentally hurt someone if something malfunctioned, but actually injuring a worker badly enough to put him on leave?
Actually, scratch that.
That was terrifying.
The whole thing had left a sour feeling in your stomach from the moment you heard it, and you probably would have politely refused when management approached you about covering the shift—
But, oh well, they mentioned extra pay. A lot of extra pay, not “buy yourself something nice this weekend” extra. More like “okay, maybe I can survive a little psychological damage for this” extra.
And that was exactly how you ended up sitting alone in the security office on your first night, already feeling like you’d made a horrible decision.
The room itself was significantly smaller than you had imagined. Cramped, dim, weirdly stuffy despite the old fan buzzing away on the desk. There were two heavy metal doors on either side of the office, each equipped with control panels and small overhead lights. Directly in front of you sat a monitor connected to the building’s camera system.
Then your eyes landed on the battery indicator. Limited power?
“…What kind of horror movie bullshit is this?”
You leaned forward slightly, narrowing your eyes at the percentage as if staring would somehow change what you were reading.
Because surely you had misunderstood.
There was no way the security doors—the only obvious protective feature in this tiny death box—ran on a limited battery supply.
That was ridiculous.
You were still silently judging the entire setup when the office phone suddenly rang. The sound was so abrupt in the otherwise quiet room that you physically jolted in your chair.
Your hand flew to your chest before immediately moving to glare at the phone instead, deeply offended by the heart attack you’d just been forced to experience.
“Oh my god.”
It kept ringing, and with a long sigh, you leaned over and picked it up.
“Hello?”
A burst of static crackled through the speaker before a man’s voice came through.
“Uh... hello? Hello, hello! Uh... You must be the new replacement for the night shift, right?”
Replacement.
Lovely.
Already hated that wording.
“Unfortunately,” you answered, slumping back into your chair. The man gave an awkward little chuckle, though it sounded more nervous than amused.
“Well, before you start, I wanted to leave you some instructions. Sort of a guide, I guess. Just some things you should know if you want to successfully complete all five nights.”
That sentence immediately made you sit up a little straighter. Complete all five nights? Why did he phrase it like some kind of challenge?
You frowned slightly, fingers tightening around the phone.
“You’ll be fine,” he added quickly, almost as if sensing your concern.
That did absolutely nothing to reassure you. If anything, hearing a stranger rush to clarify that you would probably survive before even explaining the job made your stomach tighten unpleasantly.
“As you probably know,” he continued, “the animatronics are equipped with highly advanced AI systems. That’s how they’re able to perform, interact with children, hold conversations, recognize regular guests and generally behave as naturally as possible.”
You nodded absentmindedly, though he obviously couldn’t see you.
“Now, because the systems are fairly advanced, they aren’t always... perfect.”
“In what way?”
“Well,” he hesitated briefly. “Occasionally, they can deviate from their intended programming. Usually it’s harmless enough. Temporary memory issues, slight personality changes, behavioral inconsistencies... things like that.”
That sounded suspiciously vague.
“Basically, sometimes they may not follow their usual scripts properly, forget previous interactions and act differently than intended.”
You were just beginning to relax slightly when he continued.
“In more severe cases, they can become aggressive.”
Your entire body stiffened as you blinked slowly.
“…Come again?”
He awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Mostly during nighttime hours. They don’t react well to inactivity for extended periods. Less stimulation, fewer interactions... some of them interpret it negatively.”
“Negatively HOW?”
“Well, they can become more irritable. Agitated. Territorial, sometimes.”
You actually sat up fully now, gripping the phone harder.
“Is that what happened to Michael?”
The man hesitated for just a fraction too long.
“Uh... It wasn’t anything serious” he said quickly. Avoiding questions, of course. “But it was enough to make management decide a full reset was necessary.”
You repeated that word internally, trying to process the fact that he was speaking about emotionally unstable robot-animals like they were moody computers.
“Surely the obvious solution here is just turning them off, but the shutdown buttons are hidden, the engineers who installed them handled that. Apparently it was done intentionally to prevent accidental tampering from kids or guests. Those buttons are for emergencies only, since using one completely resets the AI and requires reprogramming.”
This was insane.
“So let me summarize,” you said flatly, leaning back in your chair and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I am currently alone in a locked office with unstable animatronics wandering around the building, two battery-powered doors, and a hidden emergency shutdown nobody can find.”
When you said it out loud, it somehow sounded even worse.
“…When you put it like that, it... it does sound concerning,” the man admitted. “But you don't have to worry. Just keep an eye on the cameras. If one gets too close, shut the doors. Be mindful of battery usage, though. You don’t want to waste power too early, they may get in.”
Your eyes immediately flickered back to the battery indicator.
“And if they do?” you asked.
“…I’m not entirely sure what happens if they get in, but try not to let it happen,” he said, which somehow managed to be even less comforting. “And if worst comes to worst, maybe just... try to keep them entertained?”
You stared blankly ahead. Fuck you were scared.
“Anyway,” he finished, far too cheerfully considering the psychological damage he had just inflicted on you, “that should be everything. Good luck!”
The line clicked dead and a soft dial tone replaced his voice.
You slowly lowered the receiver back into place and sat there motionless, staring directly at the old desk fan as it rotated lazily from side to side, making that same repetitive clicking sound over and over again.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Your thoughts were moving so fast they somehow circled back around into complete emptiness.
He didn’t know what happened if they got in.
That was a sentence that had just been said to you.
A real human being had casually admitted that your potential cause of death was currently undocumented.
Your mouth slowly fell open.
“Why,” you whispered into the empty office, “would no one tell me any of this before I accepted?”
Michael being on leave suddenly felt a lot less like unfortunate workplace drama and significantly more like a warning sign you had ignored.
You sank further into your chair, dragging both hands down your face.
*ੈ✩‧ You find Tsukishima Kei really terrifying. Still, you’re not blind enough to say he isn’t hot.
*ੈ✩‧MDNI: fingering, PiV, porn with plot, unprotected sex, semi-public sex??, degradation, probably ooc tsukishima (or not, I'm not sure 😭), also some joking here and there (genz girl talk hehe). ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!
You had to admit it.
Tsukishima Kei had always kind of scared you.
It was your second year in a row sharing a class with him, and somehow that hadn’t made things any better. If anything, it had just confirmed your first impression. He was still quiet, still annoyingly smart, still sitting there like he didn’t belong to the same world as everyone else. His grades were always at the top of the class without him even looking like he tried, and the moment school ended, he’d disappear with the volleyball team like clockwork.
You barely knew anything about him, but his presence alone was enough to make you sit a little straighter in your chair.
Last year, you’d tried to be reasonable about it. You’d seen him with Yamaguchi all the time — and Yamaguchi was nice. Friendly, approachable, the kind of guy who smiled at people in the hallway instead of looking through them.
So you’d thought 'okay, he can’t be that bad.'
Maybe just awkward. Maybe bad at socializing. Maybe one of those people who looked mean but were secretly decent.
Yeah, no.
You’d been very wrong.
The moment that sealed it for you was one afternoon. You’d been heading home, still half-tired from swimming, your bag slipping off your shoulder while you mentally debated whether you had the energy to do homework or just get on your bed and call it a day.
That’s when you saw Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.
At first, you hadn’t meant to pay attention. You just a glanced enough to register familiar faces.
But something felt… off.
Yamaguchi was tense. Not just a little annoyed — actually upset. His shoulders were tight, hands clenched, his voice low but clearly strained. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but you didn’t need to.
Tsukishima, on the other hand, was smiling.
Not laughing or amused. He smiled. Calm? Relaxed? Entertained, maybe?
It made something in your stomach twist.
Because it wasn’t a normal smile. It didn’t match the situation at all. It didn’t match Yamaguchi’s expression, or the tension in the air, or the way the whole scene felt like it could snap at any second.
You’d walked away before you could hear more.
But you didn’t forget it.
From that moment on, you were done trying to justify him.
Tsukishima Kei wasn’t just “bad at socializing.”
He was fucking terrifying.
Not just because he was tall — unfairly tall, honestly, because who is THAT close to two meters? — or because of the way he looked at people like he was already bored of them before they even spoke.
It was the way he talked.
Short and sharp. Always with that edge that made you second guess yourself mid-sentence. Like he could peel you apart with one comment and not even think twice about it.
He didn’t even seem to realize how harsh he sounded.
Second year only made it worse.
You and Yamaguchi ended up in different classes, which meant Tsukishima lost the one buffer that made him seem remotely human. Without him, Tsukishima didn’t just keep to himself — he actively rejected interaction.
Anyone who tried to talk to him got a look, not even a glare. Just a subtle shift in expression that clearly said: don’t.
And yeah, you tested that theory once.
He missed a class, and like a normal, decent person, you’d tried to help him the next day. Explained what the teacher said would be on the next exam, offered your notes, the whole thing.
He’d looked at you, raised one eyebrow, and said:
“Did I ask for your help?”
Woah, okay.
That was it.
You’d mumbled something, sat back down, and seriously considered killing yourself just to avoid ever speaking to him again.
So yeah.
Terrifying.
Which was why it was kind of ironic that you were currently sitting in class while getting ready to go home, casually listening to your friends debate which guy in your year was the hottest like it was a life-or-death discussion.
“Who do you think is the hottest in our year?” one of them asked, leaning back in her chair.
Another groaned immediately. “Here we go again…”
“No, seriously! There’s this guy in the class next door— UGH, I don’t even know his name. Tall, black hair, blue eyes?”
“Right?!” she said, pointing like she’d just proven a theory.
Another one rolled her eyes. “I don't like the ones in our year, I’d go for one of the senpais. Sugawara, maybe. He’s sweet.”
“Boring.”
“Shut up.”
You kept packing your bag, only half paying attention, letting their voices blur together in the background while you shoved books inside your backpack with more force than necessary.
“What about you, y/n?” the first one insisted, turning toward you suddenly.
Your hand rested on the zipper of your bag as you tilted your head back slightly, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be written there.
You didn’t even think that hard about it.
“Tsukishima.”
“What.”
You looked back at them, already smiling a little because yeah— you knew how that sounded.
“Wait, are you serious?” another one said, leaning forward. “Didn’t you say he scared the hell outta you?”
You let out a small laugh, zipping your bag shut. “He is terrifying, yeah, but… I mean, have you seen him?”
You slung your backpack over your shoulder, shrugging casually. “He’s really tall, the glasses look good on him, and that attitude of his is kinda what gets me.”
“Simp,” someone muttered instantly.
“His attitude turns you on?” another one shot back, grinning. “What, are you into degradation or something?”
“Hell no,” you said immediately, scrunching your nose. “That actually turns me off. If anything, I’d be the one doing the degrading.”
That earned you a chorus of what the hell and laughter as you pushed your chair in.
“It’s just—” you continued, trying to explain it without sounding insane, “he’s so… unapproachable. Like, completely. And that just makes me wanna try, you know?”
“Since when are you into blondes, anyway?” someone else asked, raising an eyebrow mockingly.
You grabbed your bag and started walking toward the door with them. “Oh, fuck off.”
They kept laughing as you stepped out into the hallway, the noise of other students filling the space around you, conversations overlapping, lockers slamming and footsteps echoing against the floor.
...
“I definitely won.”
“Nuh-uh. I won,” you shot back immediately, gripping the edge of the pool as you lifted yourself up just enough to flip your friend off without missing a beat.
Water dripped down your arms, your hair clinging to your neck, your whole body still buzzing from the laps.
If there was one more reason your friends were your friends, it was this: You spent way too much time together. Practice after practice, day after day, always ending the same way—arguing over times, splashing each other like idiots and turning everything into a competition.
“Yeah-huh” she insisted, pushing her wet hair back as she leaned against the edge, a confident grin already on her face. Dark hair, tan skin, the kind of expression that screamed she already believed she’d won. "Wanna bet?"
You narrowed your eyes. “If you fin, I’ll pay for your lunch tomorrow.”
“Deal,” she answered instantly, not even hesitating. “Miko! The stopwatch!”
She turned her head toward the benches, where Miko was half-collapsed, still catching her breath, one arm thrown over her eyes like she’d just survived something life-threatening.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going… always with your stupid competitions…” she muttered, dragging herself up with a groan.
You and your friend kept going back and forth while she disappeared downstairs, your voices overlapping with the rest of the team. The pool area was upstairs, surrounded by fences to avoid anyone falling down by accident. Down stairs, of course, you had the storage room, with all the equipment and changing rooms next to it.
By the time Miko came back, you were already in position again, fingers gripping the edge, body angled forward, ready to push off.
“You got it?” you asked without even turning.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
She shrugged, clearly still annoyed. “The boxes are too high, some cleaner must’ve moved them. I can’t reach.”
“What?!” your friend groaned loudly, throwing her head back. “You’re kidding.”
Then another girl spoke up.
“Let’s just ask the volleyball team. They’re nearby and they’re tall, right?”
“Except Hinata and Nishinoya—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
There was a pause where you all stayed silent, clearly something in mind.
“So… who’s going?”
Silence, again. But you felt it before you even looked.
Slowly, you lifted your head and very single one of them was staring at you.
“…Why are you all looking at me?”
“Because you’re the most sociable,” one of them said like it was obvious. “and it's for you, right?"
You made a face. “I'm not THAT social”
“you are” one of your friends added, crossing her arms. “You’re always the one asking for stuff. Go.”
You pouted, but you didn’t really argue.
You were always the one doing this kind of thing—asking teachers for keys, borrowing equipment from other clubs, running around...
Still—
Going to the gym, completely soaked, in your swimsuit, to ask a bunch of volleyball guys for help?
…hell.
You dragged yourself out of the pool with a quiet groan, water dripping everywhere as you grabbed your towel but didn’t even bother drying properly.
“Fine,” you muttered. “But if I die of embarrassment, it’s on you.”
“No one’s gonna kill you,” someone laughed.
"That's what YOU think."
You walked to the fence, expecting some kind of miracle and seeing someone out there tall enough to help.
Just a quick glance, just in case—
And you somehow spotted Yamaguchi.
He waa walking toward the gym, completely unaware of the absolute lifesaver he was about to become.
Oh, thank god.
Without even thinking, you leaned further over the railing.
“Yamaguchi!!”
The girls behind you throw their gands to their faces, groaning. Someone whispering your name like you’d just committed a crime.
Down below, Yamaguchi startled slightly before looking up, eyes scanning until they landed on you. And when he realized who it was he smiled.
“Do you need something, y/n-chan?” he called back, stepping a little closer.
He’s actually an angel, you thought.
“Yes! We need to grab a stopwatch from storage, but it’s too high up. Could you help us?”
...
Yamaguchi jumped.
And missed.
Again.
He landed with a small huff, hands on his hips now as he looked up at the box like it had personally offended him.
“...Yeah, okay,” he admitted, a little sheepish. “I can’t reach. Sorry."
You winced, rubbing the back of your neck. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. We’ll just ask a teacher tomorrow or something.”
“Wait—” he said quickly, straightening. “I know someone who can help.”
Your eyes lit up instantly. “Really? Who?”
“Tsukki,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s the tallest in the volleyball team."
Tsukki?
Oh.
The way your expression dropped must've been obvious, because Yamaguchi’s smile faltered. “I-is something wrong?”
“Is there… no other option?” you asked, fiddling with a strand of your damp hair, suddenly very interested in anything that wasn’t eye contact. “It’s just… Tsukishima kind of… intimidates me.”
You said it quietly. Barely above a mumble.
Yamaguchi went silent for a second, like he was processing—
—and then he laughed.
“Tsukki? Intimidating?” he said, shaking his head. “He’s actually nice. Really."
Sure.
“Come on,” he added, already turning. “I’ll go with you.”
You should’ve said no.
But… how were you supposed to refuse him?
So somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the gym, peeking in while Yamaguchi called out his name like this wasn’t about to ruin your life.
“Tsukki!”
Balls stopped mid-bounce and conversations cut off, heads turned.
Everyone there looked at you surprised. Even scared you could say.
“Ohhh?” Tanaka grinned, way too interested. “Tsukishima, don’t tell me you’ve got a girlfriend!”
“No way! It can be!” Hinata added, eyes wide. “A secret admirer?!”
Tsukishima didn’t even react to them, just looked at them and they shut up. Of course, once he turned around Hinata stuck his tongue out at him, pulling down his lower eyelid.
Then he walked toward you, pushing the door open wider before stepping outside and pulling it halfway closed behind him, effectively blocking the view from inside.
“What?"
Straight to the point.
Yamaguchi smiled nervously. “So— y/n here needs help getting something from storage. It’s too high and I couldn’t reach, can you help her?
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as his eyes shifted to you.
You felt your spine straighten automatically.
“I guess,” he said after a second, already looking away like it didn’t matter.
You smiled happily as he stayed there, waiting for you to guide him. At the same time, you turned to look at yamaguchi and-
And then he started walking.
Inside.
Wait—
Your smile stayed on your face for exactly two seconds as you looked at him.
Then it dropped.
You had to go ALONE with him?
You turned just in time to see him disappear into the gym.
TRAITOR.
“Uh— this way,” you said quickly once you caught up, gesturing toward the storage area.
The walk was short and silent, suddenly you were there, pushing open the door to the dim, slightly dusty storage room, the air cooler and quieter inside.
You pointed up.
“That one.”
He just reached up — long arm extending easily above his head — fingers catching the edge of the box like it had never been out of reach in the first place.
You obviously stared.
That was a little unfair.
He pulled it down smoothly, barely making a sound as he adjusted his grip, and for a second you just stood there, watching him, your brain a little slower than usual.
“…Thanks,” you said, a bit late.
He glanced at you briefly, like he was thinking something. You both stayed quiet for a while until he talked.
“You went through all that instead of asking me directly?” he said, tone casual but just sharp enough to poke.
You stiffened slightly. “I was shy to ask you, okay?”
“Yeah?” he replied, shifting the box slightly in his hands. “Not shy enough to scream Yamaguchi’s name across the building?”
Your eyes widened. “You heard that?”
“I was in the gym,” he said flatly. “Kinda hard not to.”
“Well, that’s different.”
“How.”
“Well—” you started, immediately regretting opening your mouth. “Uh…”
He waited. Waited like he knew you were about to dig yourself into a hole. And his gaze didn’t change or soften.
If anything, there was something slightly more focused in it now.
“Do I… ‘scare the hell outta you’?"
that—
That was way too specific. Specially the way her worded it.
You stared at him.
“…How do you know that?”
He didn’t look away when you asked. That was the first thing you noticed.
Most people would’ve at least pretended not to care, brushed it off, acted like it wasn’t a big deal. Tsukishima didn’t bother with that. He just stood there, the box resting easily in his hands and his gaze fixed on you with that same steady, almost analytical look that made you feel like you were being picked apart in real time.
“I heard you talking with your friends,” he said after a second.
Your stomach dropped.
It was a slow, sinking realization that settled somewhere uncomfortable in your chest.
No way.
“…What part?” you asked, even though you already had a pretty good idea.
He shifted the box slightly, adjusting his grip before setting it down on a lower surface with a quiet thud. The movement was unhurried, controlled — like he had all the time in the world to answer you.
“All of it,” he replied.
Oh! That didn’t help.
Because all of it included way too many things. The joking tone. The casual comments. The part where you—
You let out a breath through your nose, looking away for a second as you tried to decide whether denying it would make you look better or just embarrass you more.
“Great,” you muttered under your breath.
There was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close enough to count.
“So,” he continued, leaning back slightly against the cabinet like this had suddenly become entertaining for him, “I’m scary, but also your type.”
Heat crept up your neck immediately.
Explaining it out loud sounded significantly worse than it had in your head five minutes ago.
“That’s not— okay, you’re taking that out of context.
“It’s not like that,” you tried again, more carefully this time. “I just said you’re… objectively attractive.”
The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them.
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow like he was savoring that. Asshole.
“Objectively,” he repeated.
His tone made it very clear he didn’t believe you.
You clicked your tongue softly, irritation starting to mix with the embarrassment. “And for the record, I also said you scare me. So I don’t know why you’re focusing on that part.”
“I’m focusing on both,” he said.
Fucking liar.
You shifted your weight, suddenly very aware of how close the space felt now. The storage room wasn’t big to begin with, but with him standing there — tall, blocking part of the already limited light coming from the tiny window — it felt smaller.
His gaze lingered on you, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he straightened up from the cabinet, stepping a little closer to where you stood.
Well this was awkward.
“You’re weird,” he finally said.
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t like me,” he continued, like he was stating a fact he’d already worked out, “but you still watch me and talk about me?”
“That’s not—” you started, then stopped yourself again, jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple.”
He didn’t move, but his attention didn’t waver either. If anything, it sharpened slightly, like he was actually interested in what you were going to say next.
“You’re…” you started, then paused, trying to find the right word that didn’t immediately sound like an insult. “You’re a lot.”
His eyebrow lifted again.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“I mean it,” you said, more firmly now. “You’re hard to approach, you shut people down, and half the time you sound like you don’t even want to be around anyone. So yeah, I don't feel exactly comfortable around you.”
Then he exhaled lightly through his nose, something almost amused flickering across his expression.
“And...?” he said, glancing briefly at the box before looking back at you.
"One thing doesn't take the other away, okay?" You mumbled, looking away. You notices his mocking expression anyway. "Yeah, well. Desperate times.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze dropped for a second — not in a distracted way, but deliberate — taking in the way your hair was still damp, the water still clinging to your skin, the way you were standing there like you hadn’t fully decided whether to stay or leave.
When he looked back up, his expression hadn’t changed much.
“You talk a big game,” he started, again “Saying you’d be the one doing the degrading… that you’d try because I’m unapproachable.”
His gaze flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second, then back up.
“but you're getting all flustered now that I'm close” he added, voice barely above a whisper now, “It's cute."
You felt your pulse hammering in your throat. The embarrassment burned, but underneath it there was something hotter, something that made your stomach tighten and your thighs press together.
He took another half-step, his chest now only inches from yours. One of his hands came up again, this time resting lightly on the metal shelf beside your head, caging you in without actually touching you. The position made his height even more obvious; you felt small, trapped in the best and worst way possible.
“And why haven’t you told me to fuck off yet?” he asked, tilting his head.
You bit your lip, heart racing. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to push him away, to grab the damn box and run. But the rest of you… the rest of you was too busy noticing how good he smelled up close, how the line of his jaw looked sharper from this angle, how his eyes behind the glasses had darkened just a little.
“Uh… I mean-” you started, voice trembling slightly, “I don’t... exactly... want you to fuck off.”
It slipped out before you could stop it.
Tsukishima’s expression didn’t change much, but you saw the way his jaw tightened for a split second. Something shifted in the air between you — heavier, charged.
He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to stop him.
“Good,” he murmured, the single word brushing warm against your skin and sending another shiver through you.
His free hand finally made proper contact.
It started innocent enough — just the tips of his fingers grazing your clothed waist, over the swimsuit fabric. The touch was cool compared to the heat blooming under your skin, but it burned anyway. He didn’t grab or pull. Just traced a slow line along the curve of your hip, feeling the water still sliding down your body.
You let out a shaky breath, your hands coming up instinctively to rest against his chest. You could feel the firm muscle under his practice shirt, the steady beat of his heart that was definitely not as calm as his voice suggested.
His fingers pressed a little firmer against your waist, pulling you just an inch closer until your damp chest brushed against him. The contact made your nipples tighten instantly against the thin, wet fabric, and you knew he could feel it.
"You're shaking," he murmured, lips hovering near yours. "Not so brave now, huh?"
His fingers traced higher, skating over the arch of your ribcage—slow, deliberate, like he was mapping every reaction. The calluses from volleyball rasped against your damp skin, rough enough to make your breath hitch. You dug your nails into his shirt, but he just exhaled a quiet laugh, warm and mocking.
You tilted your head back against the shelf, exposing your throat—whether from defiance or surrender, even you didn’t know. His gaze followed the movement, lingering where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath wet skin. When his thumb finally grazed the underside of your jaw, it wasn’t gentle; it was testing, like he was gauging how far you’d let him take this. The noise you made was embarrassingly close to a whimper, but he swallowed it with his mouth slanting over yours, sudden and hungry.
His kiss wasn’t sweet or exploratory—it was a challenge, all teeth and controlled pressure, like he’d been waiting to see if you’d match him. You did, biting his lower lip hard enough, and the groan that vibrated through his chest wasn’t entirely from pain. His grip tightened, hauling you flush against him, and you could feel the hard line of his cock through his shorts, pressed insistently against your thigh.
His other hand abandoned the shelf to fist in your wet hair, tilting your head back further as his mouth moved to your throat, licking the chlorine from your skin like he was claiming every inch. You gasped when his teeth scraped over your pulse point, hips jerking involuntarily against his, and he smirked against your skin. “Still scared?” he murmured, voice rough.
"Terrified," you gasped out, arching into his touch as his fingers slid under the edge of your swimsuit, blunt nails scraping the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His laugh was dark, muffled against your collarbone when you instinctively hooked a leg around his hip—betraying yourself before you could even think to lie. The fabric of his shorts rasped against your bare skin, rough enough that you shuddered, and he pressed in harder, letting you feel exactly how much your honesty affected him.
Holy shit.
You hadn’t expected him to be this ruthless—his fingers already sliding higher beneath your swimsuit, the rough drag of his calloused fingers contrasting sharply with the slick heat between your legs, and you instinctively tightened your grip on his shoulders when he swiped his thumb over your clit in a slow, deliberate circle. His breath hitched against your throat, betraying his own composure, and that tiny crack in his control made you bold—arching up into his touch with a breathless little noise that had his fingers stuttering for half a second before he recovered.
His free hand slid around your waist, yanking you harder against him, and you could feel the muscles in his forearm flexing as he worked you open with two fingers—not gentle or teasing, just relentless, curling inside you in a way that made your knees buckle. "Tsukishima—"
His fingers thrust harder, faster, the obscenely wet sounds filling the cramped space as you gasped against his shoulder. There was nothing careful about it—just the sharp drag of his fingers against your inner walls, the slick glide of his fingers fucking into you with a rhythm that left you lightheaded. His breath hitched when your hips jerked involuntarily, clenching around him, and he bit out a rough laugh against your ear. "Like that?" he muttered, voice ragged, fingertips curling just right to make your vision blur.
You were in heaven and this was only his fingers. Damn.
Your thighs trembled against his hips as Tsukishima worked you open with efficiency. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you were making your face burn—god, could anyone hear?—but he didn’t seem to care, his lips dragging lazily along your jawline like he was savoring every second. When his thumb rubbed your clit in tight circles, you bit down on his shoulder to stifle the moan threatening to escape.
You reached for him—instinctively, greedily—your fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, nails scraping against the taut skin of his hipbone. He caught your wrist halfway, pinning it back against the shelf with a force that made the metal shudder. His grip was tight and his breath hot against your parted lips as he hissed, “No.”
"Why nooot?" The whine slipped out before you could stop it, making Tsukishima’s eyes darken further, his grip tightening fractionally around your wrist.
"Because," he said slowly, his breath ghosting over your lips, "you don’t get to touch until you’ve earned it."
You squirmed against him, the damp fabric of your swimsuit riding up higher as his fingers curled inside you again, hitting that spot that made your thighs tremble. "You're evil," you gasped, but the way your hips jerked forward betrayed you.
His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and you felt his breath hitch when you leaned forward, lips brushing against the warm skin of his neck. You kissed him there, licked a slow stripe up to his pulse point, felt the way his throat worked under your mouth—hesitant at first, then deliberate, like you were testing the limits of his control. His fingers stilled inside you for a fraction of a second before resuming with renewed urgency, going deeper as if in retaliation.
Without warning, you hooked both of your legs around his waist, locking him in place with surprising strength for someone who’d been trembling beneath his touch moments ago. The sudden shift made him stagger half a step backward, his free hand scrambling for purchase against the shelves to steady himself. His glasses slid slightly askew, his breath coming quicker now, and you took advantage of the momentary lapse—reaching back with your free hand to tug the straps of your swimsuit down, letting the damp fabric pool around your waist.
His gaze dropped immediately, pupils dilating behind his glasses at the sight of your bare chest, your nipples already pebbled from the cool air and the adrenaline. You didn’t give him time to process—grabbing his wrist and dragging his palm roughly over one breast, your fingers pressing his into the soft flesh hard enough to make him hiss. "Earn it, huh?" you breathed, arching into his touch. "Then fucking take it."
Tsukishima’s composure fractured for the first time—his breath catching as his thumb circled your nipple with a roughness that made your back arch off the shelf. He leaned down, his mouth hot and wet as it closed over the other peak, sucking hard enough to pull a gasp from your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud, his other hand holding you in place. You tangled your free hand in his hair to yank him closer, the sting of his scalp under your nails only fueling the hunger in his touch.
"C'monnn," you gasped, dragging his hand to your ass, whispering, "You gonna make me beg, Tsukishima?"
His fingers tightened instantly as he pulled back just enough to catch your gaze. His breath hitched as you rolled your hips against his, your wetness soaking through his shorts—and for once, he wasn't smirking. His pupils were blown wide, lips slightly parted, the veneer of control slipping as you dragged your nails down his chest.
"You already are," he muttered, but his voice cracked halfway, betraying him. You grinned before sinking your teeth into the tendon of his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hips jerked forward instinctively, the thick line of his cock pressing against your cunt in a way that made you both groan.
"Fuck," he gasped against your skin when you rolled your hips again, grinding against him.
His fingers finally left your core only to pull your swimsuit aside with a roughness that made you think he was going to rip it. His cock sprung free, hot and heavy, the tip already wet from where it had been pressed against your thigh. For a moment, you thought he'd tease you. You know, drag it slowly, make you feel every inch, but then he shoved forward in one sharp thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that sounded more like frustration than pleasure.
You gasped, your nails digging into his back hard enough to leave marks as he bottomed out inside you. He didn't move at first—just breathed heavily against your collarbone, his entire body taut like a wire about to snap—letting you adjust to the stretch.
His hips rolled experimentally, dragging himself halfway out before pushing back in with slowness, his eyes locked on the way your lips parted.
"ssshit" you whispered, feeling the stretch burn as he tilted your hips higher, changing the angle. His next thrust hit deeper, dragging his cock against that spot inside you that made your legs tighten around him reflexively.
Tsukishima hissed through his teeth, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he pulled you down harder onto him, his rhythm turning erratic. The shelf behind you rattled with each snap of his hips, the sound swallowed by the wet slap of skin against skin. His glasses slipped further down his nose, sweat beading at his temple, and you thought yoi caught the moment his control slipped.
"More..." you whimpered, barely recognizing your own voice while his cock dragged against your walls with every thrust. "Faster!" Tsukishima's grip tightened on you, his fingers leaving angry red marks as he adjusted the angle just enough to make you sob. The sound seemed to unravel something in him—his rhythm faltered for a second before he pounded into you harder, his hips snapping forward with a roughness that sent the shelf rattling against the wall.
His palm landed sharp against your ass, the slap echoing through the cramped space, and you arched into the sting with a gasp. "Look at you—dripping all over me like some desperate little—"
The words died in his throat when you clenched around him, dragging a ragged groan from his chest. His hips stuttered for half a second before he recovered, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he fucked into you with renewed urgency.
"You—" His voice cracked when you rolled your hips against his, your pussy fluttering around him in tight pulses. "Fuck, you're doing that on purpose."
"I am" The sting of his palm against your ass came sharper this time—twice, three times—each slap landing just as his length drove deep, the pain blurring into pleasure until you were keening into his shoulder. "But you're acting like such a slut for it," and the words shouldn't have made your thighs clamp tighter around him, but they did. "You're shaking apart on my cock like some desperate little thing," His voice frayed at the edges when you clenched around him again, breath hitching—his own tell. "Pathetic."
Without warning, his grip shifted, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled out abruptly—the sudden emptiness making you whine high in your throat—before spinning you around with a roughness that had your palms slamming against the metal shelving. His chest pressed against your back, and then he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, muffling his own groan. You barely had time to register the cool metal against your cheek before he was pushing back in harder and deeper, his cock splitting you open with a smooth thrust.
His chest pressed flush against your back, the heat of his body cutting through the cool air of the storage room. One large hand splayed over your stomach, holding you in place while the other gripped the shelf just beside your head, caging you completely.
Tsukishima didn’t rush. Even now, when his breathing had grown ragged and his hips stuttered every time you tightened around him, he kept that infuriating control. He rolled his hips slowly, dragging his length almost all the way out before sinking back in, letting you feel every inch.
“Isn't this what you wanted?” he murmured against the back of your neck, voice low and rough.
You tried to answer, but it came out as a broken moan when he angled his hips and hit that spot again. Your fingers curled against the shelf, nails scraping metal.
One of his hands slid up, fingers wrapping loosely around your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could press a kiss just below your ear.
Your legs trembled. The pressure inside you was building fast, every slow, punishing movement was pushing you closer to the edge. You tried to bite back the sounds escaping you, but his other hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.
The coil in your stomach snapped without warning.
Your orgasm crashed over you hard, thighs shaking, a choked moan tearing from your throat as you clenched tight around him. Tsukishima cursed under his breath, hips stuttering as he fucked you through it, drawing it out until you were gasping, oversensitive and trembling.
Only then did he let himself go.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his own groan as he came, hips pressed flush against your ass, pulsing deep inside you. His hand on your jaw loosened, sliding down to wrap around your waist instead, holding you steady while both of you caught your breath.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the storage room were your breathing and the distant echoes of the gym outside.
Tsukishima pulled out slowly, careful despite everything. You felt the warm trickle of his release mixed with your own sliding down your thigh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your legs felt like jelly.
He turned you around gently — almost surprisingly so — and looked down at you. His glasses were fogged and slightly crooked, hair messy, lips swollen. He just looked… wrecked. And satisfied.
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, wiping away a trace of saliva.
“You’re really loud,” he said, voice still hoarse.
You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Says the one who didn't stop talking."
A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, I was just proving you're wrong."
Wrong about what?
He pulled back just enough to fix his shorts and run a hand through his hair, trying to look composed again. It didn’t work very well. Then he reached for the box he’d taken down earlier and handed it to you like nothing had happened.
“Don’t drop it,” he said dryly.
You took it with shaky hands, still trying to steady your breathing. Your swimsuit was a mess, your hair even worse, and your legs were definitely not ready to walk properly yet. Wait. That was it? How were you supposed to win now? HOW WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT THEIR FACES AND EXPLAIN WHY IT TOOK YOU SO LONG.
Tsukishima glanced at the door, then back at you.
“And dry yourself off before you go back. You look like you just got fucked in a storage room.”
With that, he slipped out, leaving you standing there — heart still racing, body aching in the best way, and a stupid smile you couldn’t wipe off your face.
You pressed your forehead against the cool shelf for a second, trying to collect yourself.
He really did leave you alone, huh? Guess you didn't have enough time to have a conversation about that.
Well,
Tsukishima Kei was still scary.
But fuck… you were definitely going to do this again.
...
"There she is! Hallelujah!"
The moment you stepped back into the pool area—still damp, still flushed, still trying to subtly adjust your swimsuit straps—every head snapped toward you like you'd just walked in naked. Your friend’s grin was already sharpening into something dangerous, her fingers drumming against the edge of the pool. "Twenty minutes," she announced, loud enough for the entire team to hear. "Twenty fucking minutes to grab a stopwatch."
“The hell took you so long?” your black haired friend — Tenko— added, squinting at you like she was trying to piece together a crime scene.
You didn’t answer right away.
You just walked in, quiet for once, water still dripping from your hair and legs, and placed the stopwatch on the bench like it personally offended you. Your face was… neutral. Suspiciously neutral. The kind of neutral that never meant anything good.
“🙂”
That was the exact expression.
Your friends stared.
“…Why do you look like that,” another of your friends said slowly, already frowning. Not Miko or Tenko. The one who was into Suga, let's call her Yuno.
You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting anywhere but at them. “Eh… well… about the competition..." Then you forced a small shrug, the most unconvincing thing you’d ever done. “Maybe we should… leave this for tomorrow?”
“Don't be a pussy” Your tanned friend said flatly.
“Or the day after,” you added, nodding a little like that made it better. “No rush, right?”
Now they were all staring.
“What did you do,” Miko asked immediately.
“I didn’t do anything,” you said, a bit too fast.
“Bullshit,” another one shot back. “You disappeared for twenty minutes with a volleyball guy and came back looking like that.”
You looked away again, scratching your cheek this time, buying yourself a second to think. “It was just Tsukishima.”
That made it worse.
“Dude,” Yuno said, leaning forward, eyes narrowed. “Did he say something to you?”
You opened your mouth and then closed it.
Now that you think about it, he sorta did.
And for some reason, it replayed way too clearly in your head.
“I was just proving you’re wrong.”
At the time, you hadn’t even processed it properly. You’d just stood there, brain lagging behind while he walked off like he hadn’t just—
Your expression shifted, and your friends noticed immediately.
“Maybe I actually am into degradation.”
“Girl what.”
Half the girls didn't get what you meant. But those three?
just found out the love of my life yoshida dies so I'm kinda suicidal rn and need to take a massive break from csm I hope fujimoto regrets this for the rest of his life
*ੈ✩‧MDNI: fingering, oral (receiving). ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!
NOTE: You can also find this one shot on my AO3, "Shittypp"
You tremble slightly, throwing your head back and covering your face flushed with one of your arms while Zhongli's firm, warm hands hold your thighs. He's so gentle, so reverent in his touch, as if he's worshipping your very essence. His tongue dances against your clit, and your body responds in kind, arching towards him with each flick and swirl.
You're aware of his gaze upon you and the way his eyes seem to drink in every gasp or every quiver of pleasure that escapes your lips, but you keep your eyes squeezed shut tight, afraid of what you might see reflected there.
His breath is hot and steady against your folds, and you can feel the vibrations of his low growl as he devours you with a passion that seems almost primal. It's a stark contrast to the elegant poise he holds in public, a side of him that only you knew existed.
Your hands clench the bed sheets, desperately seeking for support as the sensations build, each one more intense than the last.
His tongue slides deeper, curling and exploring the recesses of your body with a masterful skill that sends waves of pleasure rushing through you. You bite your bottom lip hard, muffling the moan that threatens to escape. The urge to look down and witness the scene is too great, so you lower your arm slightly, peeking through your eyelashes.
Your gaze meets his, and his eyes hold an intense expression, a mix of concentration and pure lust. He seems to read the curiosity in your eyes and pauses for a moment, his tongue resting just inside your entrance.
As if in answer to your unspoken question, Zhongli slides a single digit up and over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sensation is exquisite, a sharp jolt of pleasure that makes you gasp and your eyes widen. The sight of his hand, strong and elegant, working in tandem with his mouth is almost too much to bear.
You watch as his thumb takes over the rhythmic motion, tracing slow circles around your clit as his tongue delves deeper, curling and stroking the sensitive spot inside you. Each pass of his thumb is like a spark igniting the flames of pleasure that spread through your body, and you find yourself biting down harder on your lip, trying to keep the moans from growing too loud.
Zhongli seems to sense your building arousal, and his pace quickens. His tongue becomes more insistent, flicking and lapping at you with a fervor that leaves you trembling and gasping for breath. You feel the tension coiling in your lower belly, tightening with each stroke until it feels like it might snap.
Unable to resist any longer, you lean forward slightly, one hand sliding down to grip the bedsheets while the other finds its way to his hair. The soft, silky strands slip through your fingers, and you revel in the feeling of his head between your thighs, the warmth of his breath, and the wetness of his mouth on your sex.
As your hand tightens in his hair, Zhongli's eyes flick up to meet yours again, a questioning look in them. You give a small nod, silently urging him on, and he takes the hint. His tongue swirls faster, pressing against your g-spot with a fervent need that sends your hips bucking against his face.
The pleasure is so intense that you can't help but cry out, saying his name with a desperation that makes your voice crack. "Z-zhongli" you moan loudly, your eyes squeezing shut as your body tightens around his probing tongue. His grip on your thighs becomes firmer, keeping you in place as you ride the wave of sensation.
Zhongli seems to relish your reaction, his movements growing bolder and more assertive. He adds a second finger, sliding it in alongside the first and curling it in the way that he knows drives you wild. The combination of his tongue's relentless pressure and the filling sensation of his fingers is overwhelming, and you feel your orgasm approaching like a storm.
You try to keep your eyes open, to watch him, but the pleasure is too intense. Your vision swims as your body starts to convulse, each spasm sending a new rush of pleasure through your core. Zhongli seems to sense the impending climax, his eyes never leaving yours as he continues his ministrations.
The room is filled with the wet sounds of his mouth working against your flesh and your own ragged breaths, the air thick with the scent of your desire. You feel a warmth spreading through your lower body, a pressure building that you know can't be contained for much longer.
With a final, desperate whine, your climax hits you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, your hips bucking wildly as pleasure explodes through your core. Zhongli doesn't relent, his tongue and fingers moving in perfect sync to wring every drop of ecstasy from your quivering form.
You feel his smug satisfaction as your walls clench around his digits and your juices flooding his mouth.
Zhongli pulls back slightly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, and then he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you, and you feel a renewed heat building in your belly at the sight of his desire for more.
He smiles up at you, a smugness playing on his lips that you can't help but find utterly endearing. "Was that to your liking?" he asks, his voice deep and resonant.
You can only nod, your throat too tight with emotion to form words. He chuckles softly, a sound that resonates through your entire body, and then he leans back in, placing a gentle kiss on your clit before slowly withdrawing his fingers.
He stands up, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves over you, and you can't help but admire the way his muscles flex and ripple in the dim light of the room.
"We should get going now, Childe is waiting for us"
"Uh?" Then you remembered, and it hit you like a bucket full of cold water.
Right. You both and the traveller had plans with Childe tonight. That's why Zhongli just told you to sit on his face. There was no time for anything else.
You sit up abruptly, a little too fast, causing Zhongli to chuckle again. He offers you a hand to help you up, which you take gratefully, your legs still feeling wobbly from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You can't help but feel a little shy at the state of the bed, but Zhongli seems unfazed, his gaze lingering on your flushed skin and rumpled clothes with a warmth that makes your cheeks heat up all over again.
"But Zhongli, you-"
He places a single finger over your lips, silencing your protest. "You don't need to worry about me"
Zhongli says, his eyes filled with mischief and something else that you can't quite pinpoint. "We'll continue with this later."
With that, he stands up, putting his clothes already back in place, and heads to the bathroom to clean up. You watch him go, your body still humming with pleasure and your mind racing with what just happened. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, and then follow after him.
You're not quite sure what to do with yourself as you stand in the doorway, watching him wash his face and hands in the sink.
You feel a strange mix of embarrassment, satisfaction, and a deep yearning for more. Zhongli seems to read your thoughts, looking at you through the mirror with a knowing smile that makes your heart flutter.
"Childe can wait," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Zhongli pauses, his hands stilling in the sink.
He turns to you, the water droplets on his skin catching the light and making him gleam. "Are you certain?" he asks, his voice a velvety purr. "Our engagement with him is quite important."
You bite your bottom lip, contemplating for a brief moment before shaking your head. "No, I'm not," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want you now."
Zhongli's smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he turns off the tap and dries his hhands.
"Well then, let's not keep Childe waiting any longer than necessary," Zhongli says, his smile turning into a grin that makes your pulse race even faster.
He strides over to you, and before you know it, he's picked you up effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed.
*ੈ✩‧No matter how hard you try, you can't get sleep, and It seems you're not the only one. Why not ask Ashe for help? He might have some advice.
*ੈ✩‧MDNI: unprotected sex, oral (giving), fingering. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!
NOTE: You can also find this one shot on my AO3, "Shittypp"
You found yourself not getting to sleep as Claire's rhythmic snores filled the small, dimly lit room.
The room was suffocating and the weight of the darkness was pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. You threw back the covers of your makeshift bed and then tiptoed over to the door to press your ear against it, listening for any sign of movement of people or demons, but the mansion was eerily silent except for the distant sound of rain pattering against the windows and the occasional creak of old, tired wood.
You took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway, the chill of the unheated mansion sending a shiver down your spine. You didn't have a place in mind to go and you knew that going away from the rooms was dangerous, but you wanted to find something to do. Something that didn't mean staring at the ceiling of your and Claire's room for hours because of your insomnia.
As you wandered aimlessly, the mansion's corridors stretched out like a labyrinth before you, lined with ancient portraits that watched you with lifeless eyes. The silence was thick and palpable, only occasionally pierced by the howling wind outside.
You suddenly heard a faint sound, a muffled whisper, and a bit of curiosity grew inside you. The noise was coming from the room next door, where Ashe's room was located. You had noticed the way he carried himself since the moment you met, he was a charming person, but there was something about him that didn't quite make sense to you, he had a sort of mysterious aura around him.
Taking another deep breath, you gathered your courage and gently tapped on his door, wishing you hadn't woken him up. The whispers stopped immediately, and you wondered if you had just imagined them. But then, the door slowly creaked open. Ashe's silhouette filled the doorway, a sliver of moonlight cutting through the darkness, outlining his features and the confusion etched on his face.
"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" he asked in a hushed tone, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet of the night.
You felt your heart skip a beat, surprised by the concern in his eyes. "I-I couldn't sleep," you stuttered, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "I heard some noise and thought..."
Ashe stepped aside, allowing you to enter his room. It was sparsely furnished, with a single candle flickering on the nightstand casting shadows across the walls. The scent of old books and sandalwood incense filled the space, creating an oddly comforting ambiance. He was dressed in a simple white shirt -probably something he found on the room's closet- the top few buttons were undone, revealing the strong lines of his collarbone, which was usually covered by his clothes.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he murmured, running a hand through his messy hair. You nodded, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. "Sit," he gestured to the chair in the center of The room. "I've got some tea. It's not the best, but it might help."
You took a seat, watching him move gracefully in the low light, some strands of hair fell out as he poured the tea from a steaming kettle into a chipped porcelain cup. He handed it to you with a small smile, his eyes never leaving yours. The warmth of the cup in your hands was comforting, and you took a tentative sip, feeling the calming liquid trickle down your throat.
"So, Any specific reason why you can't sleep?"
You took a moment to consider his question as the warmth of the tea was spreading through your body "Nah. I have insomnia. It's been like this for some months now. I somehow can't sleep at night, but during the day? I can easily lose the whole day sleeping."
Ashe nodded understandingly, his eyes never leaving yours. "What about you?" You returned the question.
"Oh, I have my reasons," he said with a cryptic smile, leaning against the wall next to his bed. "But I don't think it's the right time to talk about it." He pushed some of his hair back with the hand, letting his head fall back to the wall as well. Sitting on the edge of his bed, his posture was relaxed yet somehow commanding. "What do you usually do when you can't sleep?"
Your cheeks get hot in response, remembering the times you've played with yourself due to insomnia. There was no way you'd tell him abouth that.
But Ashe's eyes widened slightly, catching the blush that crept up your cheeks. He tilted his head to the side, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Ah, I see," he said softly, his voice low and intimate in the quiet of the night.
You could feel your face turning even more red at his words.
That. Was. So. Embarrassing.
You wanted to die right there.
"Don't worry, it's nothing to be ashamed of," he added, his gaze holding yours with a gentle warmth. "Many people resort to it when they can't get sleep."
He smiles in a friendly way as he tries to not make you feel uncomfortable, but the only thing you can do is look down to the cup on your hands.
"Well, anyway, It's not like I'm going to do that in a situation like this, and even less so if I'm sharing a room with Claire. Plus, I can't fall asleep after... that, either."
"Huh. That's weird, It usually works."
You looked up at him in surprise. "You mean you...?"
Ashe chuckled, the sound rumbling in the quiet of the night. "Well, is something normal isn't It? I don't touch myself often because I don't have time for it, but when I do, It sure helps".
You felt a strange mix of embarrassment and intrigue at his candidness. No one had ever talked to you about that before, especially not in such a casual way. You took another sip of tea, feeling the tension in the room thicken as his words hung in the air.
"I dunno, maybe I'm not even doing it right," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's not something I've ever felt comfortable doing."
Ashe's eyes searched yours, a hint of surprise in them. "Why not?"
You shrugged, feeling your cheeks warm even more. "I guess I just never felt the need to, I just did It because... I somehow was bored? I dunno. And I've never had anyone to show me how."
Ashe leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze intense and curious. "It's okay to explore your body," he assured you gently. "Everyone's different, but if it's something you want to learn more about, maybe I can help."
Your heart raced at the offer. You'd never been this vulnerable with anyone, let alone a boy you've only known for a couple of days, and in a situation as dire as this. But even if there was something strange about Ashe that you couldn't figure out, there was also something about him that made you feel safe.
You took a deep breath, looking at him. His eyes never left yours as a soft smile played on his lips. "Okay," you murmured, your voice barely carrying across the room. "But only if you promise to not make it weird."
Ashe chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Scout's honor," he said, raising his hand with two fingers up in a mock salute. He motioned for me to come over to the bed. "Come here"
You hesitantly stood up from the chair and approached the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. You sat down next to him, the mattress slightly dipping under your weight. He took the cup from your trembling hands and placed it on the nightstand.
"Relax," he whispered, his voice soothing like a lullaby. You took a deep breath, feeling his warmth beside you, and nodded. "Lie down," he suggested, his tone still low and comforting. "It might be easier to talk about this if you're comfortable."
You swallowed hard, nodding in agreement, as Ashe's hand hovered over yours for a brief moment before resting it on your stomach. His touch was surprisingly gentle and non-threatening.
"Hmm... By the way, are you a virgin?"
The question caught you off guard, but you simply broke eye contact and shook your head. "No, no but... Most of the times I had sex It was with guys I didn't feel good with, they almost never focused on making me feel good, so... They were basically assholes. "
"And from those experiences, could you tell what you like?"
"Ugh... I wish I knew"
"Haha! Don't worry. I'm here to help"
He began to move his hand down, his fingertips tracing patterns on your abdomen, which felt surprisingly calming. You took another deep breath, trying to ignore the heat spreading through your body from his touch.
"Have you ever tried softly rubbing your clit?
You nodded, remembering the few times you've done it before, feeling a mix of pleasure and shame. "Yeah, but it doesn't... I don't know, it's not like... intense."
"Mm, I see," Ashe murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Umm... Sorry if this is weird for me to ask, but can I try something?"
You nodded nervously, your breath coming in short gasps. His hand began to trace the waistline of your pajama pants and gently pushed the fabric down, revealing the top of your underwear.
With surprising gentleness, his hand slipped above the fabric of your panties and found your clit, the heat of his touch making you gasp. He began to rub it softly through the barrier of your underwear, the pressure just enough to make you arch your back into his touch. You felt your body responding to his ministrations, the ache between your legs growing more intense with each passing second.
A sudden wave of heat hit you as Ashe's fingers began to circle your clit more insistently through the fabric of your panties. The sensation was unlike anything you had felt before, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which only seemed to encourage him. His touch grew bolder, his thumb moving in gentle, rhythmic motions that had you squirming on the bed.
Just... How? You'd never felt like this before. Not when you touched yourself, not when you let others do it. Why did Ashe, who barely knew you, know where to touch you and where not to?
Well, honestly, you didn't care at all.
In fact, you were starting to forget what this was about in the first place.
"Does that feel good?" he asked in a murmur that sent shivers down your spine.
You nodded, biting your bottom lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The sensations were overwhelming, and you couldn't believe that you were letting him do this to you, but it was as if your body had a mind of its own. His hand felt like it was made to touch you there, to bring you pleasure, and you didn't want it to stop.
Ashe's eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but finding none, he gently pushed the fabric of your underwear aside, revealing your wet and swollen flesh to the cool air of the room. His touch grew more confident, his thumb now gliding smoothly over your clit without the barrier of fabric. You felt your breathing quicken as he applied more pressure, your hips moving in sync with his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction.
You could feel your body start to tense, the beginnings of something powerful building within you. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let out a soft whine of pleasure as his fingers continued their movements, exploring your folds and finding that magical spot that made you quiver.
"Ashe..." you breathed out his name, your voice shaky and needy. It was like he had unlocked a secret part of you that no one had ever discovered before.
His eyes searched yours, "What is it?" You could only whimper, not trusting your voice to form coherent words. His hand stilled for a moment, and then you felt his fingers slide lower, dipping into your slick folds, and you gasped as he found the spot that made your toes curl. His touch was gentle yet firm, and it was as if he was reading the desires of your body, giving it exactly what it craved.
Your hand found its way to his wrist, not pushing him away but rather guiding him closer, silently begging for more. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, tightening with every stroke of his skilled fingers. Ashe's eyes searched yours for any sign of doubt, but all he saw was a desperate need mirroring his own. His touch grew bolder, his fingers moving faster and more insistently, as if he could sense your approaching climax. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to muffle the sounds of pleasure that were escaping from your throat.
The room grew hazy with your desire, the candlelight casting a warm glow on your flushed cheeks as Ashe's hand worked between your thighs. You felt a tightening in your core, a pressure that grew more and more intense with every passing second.
And just like that, It released.
Your body tensed, a silent scream escaping your throat as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, and your eyes squeezed shut tightly as if that could somehow contain the sensation.
Ashe's eyes never left yours, watching with a focused intensity as your body convulsed under his touch. He continued his ministrations, riding out the waves of your pleasure, until finally, you went limp, your breathing ragged and erratic.
You lay there, panting, your chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of your climax. Ashe's hand remained between your thighs, his fingers still gently caressing the sensitive flesh, drawing out the last shudders of pleasure.
As the haze of pleasure began to fade, you opened your eyes to find him watching you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with something that looked like admiration. "How was that?" he asked, his voice still a hushed whisper in the quiet room.
You couldn't find the words to describe the intensity of the sensations that had just overtaken you. "It was... amazing," you managed to murmur, still trying to catch your breath. "I've never felt anything like it."
Ashe chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your sensitive flesh one last time before withdrawing his hand. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm glad I could help," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine.
You couldn't help but notice the bulge in his pants, a clear sign of his own arousal. The sight sent a thrill through you, making your heart race even faster. You'd never been one to shy away from what you wanted, and as you looked at Ashe, you found yourself feeling you needed more of him.
"Ashe" you called for him as you taked his wrist and you brought him closer to you "I need you".
Oh God. How could you do this to him.
You leaned over him, your eyes searching for any sign of refusal, but all you found was heat and desire. Without waiting for his answer, you bridged the gap between your lips, kissing him with a passion that surprised even you.
Ashe didn't resist, instead, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. His mouth was warm and inviting, his tongue slipping into yours with a familiarity that sent a bolt of lightning straight to your core.
Without breaking the kiss, you straddled his lap, feeling his erection press against you. You felt a thrill of power as you realized that you had the upper hand in this situation, that you could control his desire. You began to grind against him, the fabric of your pajama pants and his were the only barriers between you.
Ashe's hands found your thighs, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate way that left you both breathless. The heat between your legs grew more intense with every movement, and you could feel yourself growing wetter, the fabric of your underwear sticking to your skin.
You reached down to his pants, sliding your hand inside to grasp his hard length. He groaned into your mouth and your hand began to move up and down, mimicking the rhythm of his earlier ministrations.
Breaking the kiss, you looked down at him with a smirk playing on your lips as you watched the pleasure play out on his face. His eyes were hooded with desire and his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, his voice thick with need. You smirked, feeling a thrill of power at his question. "I just want to taste you," you whispered, sliding down his body. His eyes widened with surprise, but he didn't protest as you pushed him onto his back and kissed a trail down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt along the way. His skin was warm and smooth, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room.
As your mouth reached his pants, you took your time taking them down. His hands tangled in your hair, urging you on as you pulled down his zipper and freed his erection from the confines of his pants. You took him in your hand, feeling his pulse under your fingertips, and licked the tip of his cock tentatively. He hissed in response, bucking his hips upwards, and you felt a thrill of satisfaction at his reaction. You took him into your mouth, his length filling your mouth and stretching your jaw. The noises he was making were driving you wild, and you felt yourself getting wetter with every bob of your head.
As you sucked and licked him, you could feel his hands tightening in your hair, his hips rising to meet your movements. His breath was coming in ragged pants now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You took him deeper, feeling the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. His hands guided your head, setting a pace that was both thrilling and overwhelming. You've never felt so alive as you watched the boy who had been a mysterious enigma to you only moments ago lose control under your touch. Your own desire was building, with a need to feel him inside you growing with every beat of your heart.
With a sudden urgency, you pulled away, straddling him once again. Your pajama pants and underwear were soaked through with your own need, and you felt a rush of excitement as you positioned yourself above his cock, feeling the slickness of your arousal against his hot, hard length. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of surprise and desire.
You reached down, taking his cock in your hand and guiding it to your entrance. You felt the tip brush against you, teasing, before you slowly began to lower yourself onto him. As you took him in inch by inch, you couldn't help but let out a low moan at the feeling of fullness.
Ashe's hands found your waist, his grip firm and sure as he helped you set a rhythm. You felt his cock slide into you, filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. His eyes never left yours, watching as you took him in, watching as the pleasure painted your features. You gasped as you reached the base, feeling him fully sheathed inside you.
He waited a moment, giving you time to adjust, before his hands began to roam, tracing the curve of your waist and the arch of your back. His touch was a brand, leaving trails of fire wherever he touched, setting your skin alight with desire. You felt your walls clench around him, trying to hold on to him and to keep him deep inside you.
As you grew more accustomed to his size, you began to rock your hips, taking him deeper, feeling the pressure build inside you again. His hands tightened around your waist as he met your rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you ride him. It was as if he was memorizing every detail of your face, every line and curve of your body as you moved above him.
"Fuck..." He said through gritted teeth as your walls tightened around him. That encouraged you to began moving faster, your hips swiveling in a dance that you've never quite done before, but it felt right. Ashe's pupils started dilating as he watched you with an intense focus. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you, setting a rhythm that had your body singing with pleasure. Each thrust was an intense sensation, his cock hitting just the right spot and making you moan his name.
You grabbed onto his shoulders, using his firm grip to bounce on him, feeling your thighs starting to burn with the effort. You didn't care though, the only thing that mattered was the building pressure, the feeling of him filling you up and the delicious friction of his cock against your walls. Each bounce brought you closer to that precipice, and you could feel your orgasm coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.
Ashe's breath grew more ragged as he watched you move above him. His hands gripped your hips harder, his movements becoming more urgent. He was close, you could tell by the way his body was tensing under yours and by the way his breath was catching in his throat.
"I'm gonna..." he warned, his voice a strained growl. You nodded, eager to feel him let go. Your walls clenched around him, and you felt his cock throb as he released himself inside you. His eyes squeezed shut and his head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips.
The feeling of his release was like a trigger for your own orgasm. Your body convulsed, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave. You threw your head back and let out a scream, your muscles tightening around him as you came undone. Your nails dug into his shoulders as the intensity of your climax washed over you, leaving you trembling and panting.
As the last spasms of pleasure subsided, you collapsed onto his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as your breathing slowly evened out. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and the scent of sex, a heady mix that only served to make the moment more intimate
"Are you okay?" He asked, seeing you completely tired on top of him. You didn't answer, your breathing had become slow and steady, a clear sign of sleep. Ashe's eyes searched yours, watching as your lids grew heavy and finally closed. He couldn't help but smile softly, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the aftermath of your passionate encounter.
He wanted to clean you up, He had everything he needed in his backpack, after all. But seeing that you had finally managed to fall asleep...
*ੈ✩‧ Andrew and y/n are always trying to outdo each other in everything, and sex is no exception.
*ੈ✩‧MDNI: Car sex, hate sex, y/n wears glasses, unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving). ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!
NOTE: You can also find this one shot on my AO3, "Shittypp"
You didn't even notice when it started.
At first, it was just quiet comparisons. A score on a test, a grade on a project, who the professor complimented in class. Andrew Graves was just... there - another student who somehow always ended up near your level, whether it was literature or gym class.
You weren't looking for a fight. you were just unconsciously doing your best to overcome him, seeing that your notes were always on the verge of surpassing the other's.
You had nothing against Andrew, you just wanted to get to the top.
You didn't even talk. You didn't need to.
Until you did.
And when you did, it was like everything fell apart. He had a way of saying things that made your blood boil - too calm, too sure, too condescending for someone who clearly wasn't perfect.
And that weird possessive girl always clinging to him? Ashley. His sister, apparently. Her eyes had a way of tracking you like you were prey.
You called her out once. Told him straight up that something about that girl was wrong, and the way she glared at you and other girls whenever they got close to him? Not normal.
He didn't take it well.
He said something about you projecting, about how. "Maybe you were jealous because your siblings couldn't stand you, if you had any." From that moment on, it wasn't just quiet competition anymore.
It was war.
Presentations became battlegrounds. Class discussions turned into backhanded sparring. Even showing up earlier than the other to an exam became a statement.
And still, for some reason... it was kind of addictive.
...
"Are you seriously going?" Ashley asked, perched on the edge of Andrew's desk, arms crossed. Her nails tapped against her sleeve - annoyed, nervous, something in between.
Andrew adjusted his hoodie in the mirror, not really looking at her. "It's just a party."
"She's going to be there," Andrew didn't answer at first, and Ashley scoffed. "You don't see it? She's obsessed with you."
His reflection paused. "What?"
"She fights you on everything, gets up in your face in class, always trying to beat you - duh, Andrew. She's obviously into you."
"I don't think it's like that."
Ashley blinked, stunned by the pushback. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He Sighed, turning around. "I mean... I don't think she likes me. I think she hates me, and I'm pretty sure I hate her too. It's not that deep.
Ashley's lips curled into something sour. "So you're defending her now?"
He rolled his eyes. "No. I'm just saying, she's not into me. And I don't give a damn if she is or not. She doesn't like me, I don't like her. End of story."
Ashley didn't move from the edge of his desk. She just sat there, legs crossed, staring at him with that same expression she always wore when she was about to say something that would piss him off.
"Still sounds like someone's on your mind a lot."
Andrew threw a jacket over his shoulder. "You're insane."
She shrugged. "Maybe. But if she really hated you, she wouldn't waste so much energy fighting you on every little thing."
"She just doesn't like me. That's it."
Ashley's eyes narrowed, her smile twitching as she slid off the desk slowly, walking toward the door like she was finished, but paused at the frame.
"Guess we'll see tonight, won't we?" She said over her shoulder.
"Ash, what are you doing?"
She gave him that trademark grin - sweet, but with sharp teeth. "I'm coming too."
"Why?"
"Because I want to see if my big brother's as good at pretending as he thinks he is."
And with that, she put her jacket on, ready to leave with him.
...
You weren't there for anything deep. It was a party. You came to blow off steam, maybe dance a little, and drink.
You took off your sweater, burning only with your strapless shirt and followed your friends towards the kitchen-slash-bar area.
And, well, you didn't even see him at first. But you definitely saw her.
Ashley was sitting on the counter like the place belonged to her, legs crossed, dressed like she was waiting to be photographed. Her gaze locked with yours for a second - just long enough to recognize each other.
Your stomach sank a little, and then he turned to you.
Fucking Andrew.
Your jaw clenched.
Of course they'd be here.
You were mid-turn, ready to walk right past like they didn't exist, when you heard it. "Oh"
You turned, already rolling your eyes. "Don't."
He stepped forward, drink in hand, that usual half-smirk plastered on his face. "Didn't know you were allowed to get out of your house."
You scoffed. "Bold talk from a background character."
"Aw," he drew. "Still trying to get the last word, huh?"
"I always get the last word," you snapped, taking a sip of your drink. "Anyway, I'd need to lower my standards just to insult you properly."
He stepped closer, eyes locked on yours, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Funny, coming from someone who keeps trying to beat me at everything. Starting to think you're obsessed."
"Obsessed? With you? Don't flatter yourself. I just like watching you lose. It suits you." You looked him up and down slowly and he smiled wider, the kind of grin that meant trouble.
"Wanna make it official then?"
Your brow raised. "What, like a certificate?"
He grabbed two shot glasses from the counter behind him, poured. "Shot for shot. Whoever taps out first admits the other's better at everything."
You blinked. "You can't even handle your ego, let alone vodka."
"Scared?" He teased, handing you a glass. You snatched it without breaking eye contact.
"Let's see if you can back that mouth up, bitch."
You raised the shot glass with a smirk, clinking it hard against his. "To watching you fail," you said sweetly, before knocking it back in one go.
Andrew didn't hesitate. Downed his shot with the same ease, tongue running across his lower lip as he stared you down. "Round two?" He said.
"Obviously," you replied, already reaching for the bottle.
Two shots became three.
Then four.
You didn't even flinch. Neither did he. But the air between you was shifting. Every time he leaned in to pour, your shoulders brushed. Every time you slammed your glass down, his fingers hovered too close. You swore he was doing it on purpose.
The fifth shot burned a little more than the last, but there was no way in hell you were backing down. Andrew didn't look much better, eyes a little glassy and jaw tense.
"Still standing," you muttered, licking the taste of tequila off your lip. He mirrored you, dragging his sleeve across his mouth with that stupid little smirk.
"Barely," he said. "But you look like you're about to collapse."
You scoffed, taking a slow step forward. "You're full of shit."
"Right back at you."
You were close now. Close enough that you could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the heat radiating off him. Your shoulders brushed again - but this time, no one moved.
"You know," you said, swaying just slightly but holding his gaze, "You're lucky this wasn't about pulling people, because I'd be thousands ahead of you."
Andrew raised a brow. "You really think that?"
"I know that."
He tilted his head, smile lazy. "With that attitude? Yeah, sure. Bet they're lining up."
"Better than being some emotionally constipated mama's boy with a superiority complex."
That made his smile crack. "Yeah? Well I bet you've never made anyone cum in your life."
You stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"Just saying," he said, hands gesturing only.
You blinked and then laughed, remembering all the experiences you had all over your life. "I bet I could make you cum so hard you'd have to admit I'm better at everything."
Andrew let out a short, sharp laugh. "You?"
"Yeah. Me." You stepped forward again. "And then you'd have to live with it."
He grinned wide, eyes narrowing. "You're delusional."
"Wanna try?" You didn't say it sweet or playful. You were mad, and that was a challenge.
His eyes darkened. "You're on."
He grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the crowd of bodies, ignoring the protests of your friends. They probably thought you were just playing along, but the electricity crackling between the two of you was something else entirely.
You could even notice Ahsley's gaze stuck on your neck, but you couldn't care less.
Andrew's grip was surprisingly firm as he led you through the crowded party. The room was a blur of lights and bodies, but he had a destination in mind - his own car.
You stumbled a bit when you hit the cool night air, hearing the music fading behind you, but he didn't hesitate opening the back door, pushing you in with a smirk that made your stomach twist in a way that was both infuriating and oddly thrilling.
Andrew slammed the door shut and leaned over you, while pushing the front seat so you had more space in there. "Well then, show me what you got"
You didn't need any more encouragement. Anger boiled in your veins, turning into something hot and primal as you grabbed the neck of his hoodie and crashed your mouth onto his, all the while your hand slid down his body to his belt buckle, playing with it in a way that was definitely not innocent.
The kiss was furious, with tour teeth clashing and tongues dueling, like a silent battle of dominance in the confined space of his car. His hands found their way to your hair, pulling you closer, and his mouth moved against yours in a way that was as possessive as it was desperate.
But then, you broke it off. Just for a second. Long enough to look him dead in the eyes, and then move your hand down his body, not stopping at his waist but going lower.
You grabbed his belt buckle and pulled, using your teeth to unzip his fly with surprising finesse. The sound was almost obscene in the quiet of the car, a stark contrast to the muffled party sounds outside. Andrew's eyes widened when you looked up at him, letting him see your eyes trough your glasses, but instead of breaking the tension, it only fueled the fire.
You slid your hand into his pants, palming his erection through his boxers. It was hot and firm, and it made you smirk to know that you had that effect on him - that despite his arrogance, you could make him react like this.
"Not so cocky now, are you?" You murmured, stroking him lightly.
Andrew's smirk twitched. "Fuck You"
Your hand tightened around him, thumb teasing the head of his cock. You felt him swell in your grip. "Oh, yeah. Fuck me" you laughed while tying your hair in an improvised ponytail with your hand and bowing your head towards his cock, leaving a kiss on the tip. "I'll make you regret every word you've ever said, asshole."
"I'd like to see you t-" His words were cut off by your mouth being filled with his hot, hard length. You took him in, the taste of him surprisingly sweet against your tongue as you fought against the urge to gag.
You could feel his hand grabbing your hair, helping you with the ponytail, and his grip tightened as you swallowed around him. You weren't going to let him win. You weren't going to let him have this without giving everything you had. You didn't even deign to stop looking at him as you moved your head from top to bottom, sucking all the length of his dick.
You noticed how he tried to stop from gasping, panting or letting go of a groan. He looked at you like it was unpleasant, and it made you want to make him scream your name. You took it as a challenge, going deeper, taking more of him in, and using your tongue to swirl around his tip every time you pulled back. His eyes closed and his jaw clenched. You smirked around his cock, feeling the power in every stroke.
For a moment, you took him out of your mouth, causing his cock to rub against your cheek and push your glasses up, taking out a sigh from you. Carefully, you took them and put them on Andrew, thinking it was a better option than putting it over your hair, which was constantly being pulled by him.
You didn't even stop to see his reaction and just continued licking all over its base, followed by wet kisses until you put it back in your mouth. This time you weren't careful at all, pushing him to the bottom of your throat.
"Is that all you got?" You heard him, even though his words trembled a little.
"You've got something better to offer, huh?" You asked back, looking directly at him. Though he sounded confident, his cheeks were flushed, and you could see his eyes fighting to stay open trough your glasses.
Andrew didn't even answer, he pushed you down onto the seat, making you feel the cold glass of the window pressing against the back of your head. His hands found their way under your shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose your bra.
That's when he started kissing your neck while unbottoning it so his mouth could reach your collarbones and then your breasts, leaving a trail of kisses that sent shivers down your cunt. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, teasing them into hard peaks before his mouth followed, sucking and nibbling through the lace.
You tried to hold back the moan that bubbled up, biting one of your fingers as you felt his hands slid down to your thighs. He noticed that, so his thumbs started playing with the hem of your skirt, inching it up as he kissed his way down. You bit your lip, telling yourself that it wasn't fair, that you weren't going to let this feel good.
But as he reached the low part of your abdomen, his kisses grew more insistent, his hands squeezing your thighs just enough to make you aware of his strength. You felt the beginning of a tingling that was spreading outwards from where he was touching you, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you weren't going to be able to keep this up forever.
He slid your skirt up to your waist, his hands moving to your panties, feeling the wetness that had soaked through. "So, you do like me," he murmured against your skin, using a finger to trace the line of your panties before sliding it under the fabric.
You gritted your teeth as his fingertip grazed your clit, sending a bolt of pleasure through you. "Dickhead-" you hissed, but your voice was breathy, giving away the lie. You didn't want to admit it, but his touch was doing things to you.
Andrew chuckled darkly and slid your panties aside, pushing two fingers inside you without warning, and you couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped your lips. You felt your body tighten around him, betraying your hate. He began to pump them in and out, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that was surprisingly good, considering the animosity between you.
You looked at him, smiling at you still with your glasses on "You think you're winning?" You challenged, trying to keep your voice steady as he worked your body with a skill that was surprisingly masterful for someone you hated so much.
"Oh, yeah, wait. Just let me-" And before he finished his snarky remark, Andrew had your glasses up his head and his mouth was between your thighs, his tongue pressing against the wet fabric of your panties and his hands pushing them aside. The suddenness of it made your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat. You weren't expecting this - the raw hunger in his gaze, the way his mouth looked as it hovered over your most intimate part.
The first touch of his tongue was like lightning. You jolted upwards, the sensation so intense you couldn't help but curse, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He licked you, long, slow strokes that had your toes curling into the car's floor mats. He was relentless, his tongue delving into your folds and his hands holding your thighs in place as you squirmed, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was building inside you.
You felt one of your legs being lifted, and then it was over his shoulder, his grip tight, and suddenly, you were exposed to him in a way that made you feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time. The angle was new, and with every thrust of his tongue, he hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. You grabbed the seat, knuckles turning white as he devoured you, his mouth sucking and biting at your clit, his fingers pumping into you in time with his tongue.
"Why the fuck is he so good at this?" You thought to yourself, trying to hold onto the last shreds of your dignity as the pleasure grew and grew, threatening to overwhelm you. You had to admit, his mouth was magic, turning you into a quivering mess with every flick of his tongue.
But you weren't going to lose. You weren't going to be the one to break first. You reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling him away from your clit with a wet pop. He smirked up at you, smug, but you weren't done yet. "Sit back"
"Huh? Are you giving me orders now?" He teased and you pushed him against he window at his side. "I said, sit back".
He could've continued eating you out if he wanted, but he didn't put resistance over you. He simply chuckled.
Andrew leaned back, your hand going to his cock, stroking it slow, and sure, your eyes never leaving his. The sight was hypnotizing - your hand wrapped around his length, moving in a way that had your own wetness coating your thighs. "This'll be the best thing you've ever felt," you murmured, positioning yourself over him, your pussy hovering just above his cock.
You felt his hand grip your hip, but it was more of a plea than a demand. You slammed down, taking him all in one go, and his groan was like sweet victory. The car rocked with your movement, a rhythm that matched the thumping bass of the party outside. You rode him hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with his ragged breathing. Every time you looked down at him, his eyes were glazed with lust, his jaw tight with the effort to not give in to the pleasure.
"You like that?" You whispered, a smug grin playing on your lips as you watched his face contort with pleasure. "Thought so." Andrew's grip tightened on your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin as you continued to move, your laughter turning into gasps as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again.
You leaned back slightly, placing one hand on his shoulder to balance yourself, while the other slid down to his knee. Using the leverage, you started to bounce up and down, each movement sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. The hand on his knee was almost a taunt - a reminder that you were in control, that you were the one making him feel this good.
Andrew's eyes were on your chest, his gaze riveted to your bouncing breasts. The fog on the windows grew denser with each breath you took, each movement that brought you closer to the edge. You watched him through hooded eyes, the glasses slipping down his nose slightly with every thrust. It was a ridiculous sight, but he also looked hot with them on.
And you inmediately knew it was over when you thought that to yourself.
Andrew grabbed you, lifting your hips up in one swift movement. You gasped, feeling the sudden emptiness, but before you could even start to protest, he was pushing back inside of you, hard and deep. Your breath hitched, eyes wide with shock.
He didn't give you any time to adjust. He just started moving, his hips slamming into yours with a force that was almost brutal. Each thrust sent a jolt through your body, and you had to hold onto the headrest to keep from being thrown back onto the window. You felt the car's suspension groan under the force of your movements, the windows fogging up so completely that it was like you were in your own little world of lust and spite.
"Fuck" you said out loud, still trying to contain a moan, but you couldn't take it anymore and it seemed to be the same for him "Fuck, Andrew!"
He went harder. Lifting you up with his powerful arms and slamming his hips up to meet yours, filling you up with every inch of his cock. The speed was dizzying, his movements so forceful it was like you were riding a wild beast. You could feel your breasts bouncing with the impact and the friction of your bodies setting your skin on fire.
You couldn't muffle your moans anymore, and you were whimpering and moaning loudly. You didn't even care if someone out there could listen to you. Andrew did the same, his own sounds of pleasure mixing with yours, creating a symphony of hate-filled desire that filled the car.
Andrew's hands gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly as he used your body for leverage, pushing up into you with a ferocity that was both punishing and exhilarating. The head of his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure through you that you hadn't even known were possible. He wasn't being gentle at all, and you liked it.
You threw your head back, arching your back as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. "Harder," you gasped, your voice hoarse with passion. "Harder, goddamnit!"
And he did. He went harder, faster, deeper. His thrusts were punishing, but you took them, begging for more. The anger between you was palpable, thickening the air, turning your hate into something else entirely.
"Damn-" He growled, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushed into you, his teeth clenched with the effort of holding back. You felt yourself tightening around him, the orgasm building, the tension between your legs becoming unbearable. "I can't-"
Andrew's eyes narrowed. "You can do better than that," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal.
You smirked. "Oh, really?" You leaned in, your breasts brushing against his chest, and panted "I thought this was a competition, but now you want me to last longer." Andrew's response was a grunt, his hips moving with a fierce urgency that seemed to defy his need to maintain his cool exterior. His grip on your ass tightened, and his thrusts became more erratic as he approached his own climax.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he panted, resting his chin on your shoulder "So...tight. y/n-"
That made it for you.
You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling him swell inside you. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you felt Andrew's cock pulse as he emptied himself into you, his grip on your hips tightening as he let out a low groan, followed by your own orgasm, which ripped through your body like a tornado, leaving you trembling and breathless.
For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged gasps and the muffled thump of the bass from the party outside. The car was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, and you could feel Andrew's heart pounding against your chest as he held you there, buried deep inside you.
You didn't move, just stayed there, feeling him pulse within you as the aftershocks of your shared climax slowly faded away. His grip on your hips loosened, and he leaned his head against the window while he rested his arm on his forehead, with his breathing heavy and labored.
You smirked in victory. You had done it. You had beaten him at his own game, had him at your mercy, had made him moan your name. But... he did too.
Instead of feeling triumphant, all you felt was... empty. The high of the competition had dissipated, leaving only the sticky mess of reality behind.
Andrew pulled out of you gently, and you slumped back into the seat, your legs still trembling slightly. He took off your glasses and handed them to you, his eyes a mix of confusion and something else you couldn't quite place. "I guess we're even now," he murmured, his voice still gruff from the exertion.
You took them from him, noticing that they were a little foggy from the heat between you. "Looks like it," you said, sliding them back on and trying to regain some semblance of composure. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, like it belonged to someone else entirely.
You smirked, feeling the ache between your legs and the stickiness that was a testament to your shared release. You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest. "I..." you sighed, still unsure about what you wanted to say.
"What?" he prompted, his own voice strained, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
You took a deep breath, the air in the car thick with the scent of sex and sweat. "I don't know," you finally admitted, looking away from him. "It's just- geez, I don't think I've ever got eaten out like this in my life."
Andrew chuckled, the sound low and surprisingly affectionate. "I don't think I ever did it like this, either. Anyway, I could say the same about you, you're... really good"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Don't you start-"
But you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips, the situation feeling suddenly surreal and cutting him off mid-sentence. Andrew's eyes widened in surprise before a smirk tugged at his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he chuckled too.
"What the fuck I we just..?"
That made him laugh out loud, and suddenly, the tension between you didn't feel so heavy anymore. It was like you'd reached a strange understanding through your battle of wills and bodies. You both sat there for a moment, catching your breaths, the quiet between you feeling almost comfortable.
"So," Andrew said, still smiling a bit. "What now?"
"Maybe we should go back to the party. My friends and your sister are probably looking for us."
"Oh, right, Ashley! Fuck, I forgot about her."
Andrew's smile faded a bit at the mention of his sister, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. It was clear that she wasn't going to like what had just transpired between the two of you.
"Is she going to kill me?"
Your question brought reality crashing back down around both of you. You looked over at him, his smile now a smirk. "Probably," he said, "But she won't if she doesn't find out"
"We keeping this a secret, huh?"
Andrew's smirk grew, and his eyes glinted with a challenge. "Yes if you want this to be something. What do you say?"
You tilted your head, considering.
He was a fucking asshole, and he annoyed you, yeah.
But he turned you on in a way that no one else had ever managed to. So, with a smirk of your own, you leaned in closer, opening the door to get out while looking at him.
