𐀓

but he falls deeper when you switch positions, flipping him underneath you and riding him the way loves. pinning his wrists down on the comforter beside his head, never forcing him to look away. he doesn’t want to. you’re mesmerizing, dipped in angel dust.

“do i feel good?” you sigh against his lips, kissing him once before pulling your bare body away from his. he tries to answer, but his jaw falls open the second your wet cunt flutters around his dick. throbbing. squelching.

“uh-huh,” he rasps out, nearly rolling his eye to the back of his head with a lazy grin feeling your hand around his neck. “she’s so fuckin’ tight around me—fuuuck.”

he loves it here.

“keep moving those hips just like i taught you the other day.” he bites back a moan, wanting to hear yours clearly. your clit drags on his pelvis at the same time you circle your hips. he swears he can feel himself getting deeper—reaching the brim. “there we go,” matt’s hand swats your ass, “atta girl.”

part of him can’t believe this little situation is much more than what he anticipated it to be. but he can’t think straight right now. his eyes close sensing that familiar coil in his core, he just wants to feel. he’s lost; in the way you feel, in the way his body reacts to you.

god, he’s so in love.

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

he hates himself. he feels ashamed and disgusted that he’s doing this behind your back. but he won’t stop, he can’t. so maybe he isn’t fully sorry.

chris kept lazily stroking his thick cock with one hand, while the other held his phone to a photo dump you posted. you look like fucking sin. dipped in sand, sun-kissed, and bare face, all laid out on the beach in a skimpy little baby blue bikini that was thin as air and drove him fucking crazy.

the top was so tiny your tits nearly spilled—he’d like to tug on the string behind your neck and watch in slow motion how the fabric reveals your perky mounts, how they’ll bounce so carefree. preferably in his face.

and don’t get him started on how good your ass looks in that thong shaped bikini bottom. round almost like a bubble, spankable too—chris’ memories of that night on the balcony with his hands on your body, washes over him like water hitting the shore.

his thumb scrolls back and forth between two specific photos as he continues to get himself off; you on the edge of the water, sunbathing sideways with your meaty skin purposefully showing off for the camera. the other a literal close up of your tits, with your newly manicured hands holding them. bet they’d feel like heaven.

“mm, look how fuckin’ hard you got me.” chris’ fist squeezes around the head, the pressure makes him gasp. it builds up in his core, his dick twitches in his hand and his balls seize. you made him religiously desperate for a taste, for a chance to split you open and stretch you out. to give you what those boys you waste your time on won’t.

and will never.

quiet moans fell off his mouth, his face scrambles in pleasure. chris’ tongue ran over his lips, coating them with saliva. “i wanna cum all over your body, make a good mess of you.”

he works his base, cock too thick his hand barely wraps around it. bubbles of milky white glisten at the tip, leisurely dripping down, causing a sticky mess. it’s sloppy and loud, filling the room with slimy noises.

“bet you’d like that huh?” warm blue eyes filled with heat zero in on your ass, imagining his arousal sliding between your cheeks. his lower abdomen burns. “god, you’re such a freak, such a slutty girl.”

“you did this on fucking purpose,” chris’ breathes get heavier, his fist moves faster. “you knew i’d see these.” his jaw goes slack, eyes roll back as his orgasm ripped through him, like a tsunami. cum shoots out the slit, making a mess of warm seed on his thighs, a little bit on his bare chest. he’s out of it.

“fuck, saint.” the phone falls, your photo still burning in the back of his mind as he closes his eyes. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

you’re sneaking off during group movie nights and outings, walking back with his cum dripping down your thigh and he’s already had hard again by the time you rejoin the group. he’s stuffing you full in his childhood bedroom back home with his hand over your mouth, pressing hard to keep you quiet. he’s walking back to where the group is crowded around a beer pong table at some party with your lip gloss still forming a ring around the base of his softening cock.

you couldn’t take it anymore. the heat, the unbridled want, the desperate, needy ache stirring in the pit of your stomach. the constant yearning to feel his skin against yours. you slowly walked up to chris, the arrogant and knowing grin on his face made you shudder.

“hey y/n, this is elle.” he hums, smirking at you, pulling his sunglasses down along the bridge of his nose just slightly, gesturing towards the girl as you nod at her. you him something that barely counts as acknowledgment before wrapping your fingers around the stick of the candy in chris’ mouth, pulling it out and putting it in your own mouth. smirking at him as his pupils dilate behind the tinted lenses.

you cast look over your shoulder at the girl watching in disgust and something that could almost pass as lust.

“sorry elle, he’s busy.” you purr, your hand slipping beneath the hem of chris’ shirt as she scoffs, walking away, and before you have a moment to turn back to chris, he’s gripping your wrist and tugging you into him.

“what’s gotten into you, hm? is it the fact that you can’t handle not being the centre of my attention for two seconds? or is it the fact that you’re absolutely soaked and so desperate for me?” chris grunts in your ear, his body caging you in like his prey. the weight of him against was solid, warm, and dangerously enticing.

“your attention shouldn’t be on her.” you giggle, pushing your hands upwards under the hem of his shirt, sinking your nails ever so lightly into his skin, the pressure just enough to send a shiver down his spine. you don’t give him any longer than that one second to react before you’re retracting your hands, pulling the orange and red suckers out of your mouth and roughly grabbing his jaw with your free hand, your lips meeting his in a raw, filthy kiss.

the kiss is sticky. your lips are sticky, your spit isn’t just saliva anymore. it’s a blend of melted sugar and pent up need. the kiss is searing, hot, and messy. it’s a clash of teeth, it’s a swap of spit and you’re both putting everything you need and want into that kiss. you pull away and meet his eyes, his pupils so dilated that his irises look black and you grin. something wicked and cruel and chris can feel his cock, painfully and proudly throbbing behind his boxers as you take the candy back into your mouth, making a show of swirling your tongue around then before taking them out once again and dragging them along his jaw and the column of his throat.

his doesn’t have time to ask what your plan is before he feels you mouthing and licking along the path of sticky residue left behind by the nearly disintegrated candy.

“so messy and sticky.” he whispers, his lips finding that sweet spot where your jaws meet, nipping at it just slightly before moving downward, kissing and sucking beneath the curve of your jawline with more fervour than before.

“you don’t know the half of it, chris.” you hum, taking his hand and pushing it down your body until it rested above the waistband of your shorts.

you weren’t at all used to the rushed nature of this, especially not with matt. hands roaming over your body, directing you onto the bed — fingers hesitantly lingering as if he was trying to slow it all down.

it was hard to understand where this had come from, difficult to wrap your head around his sudden need, impossible to know how to navigate the situation.

you held back from saying the wrong thing, letting words slip that would have him turning away without a second thought — escaping the daunting intimacy that he was currently testing.

body on yours, hot breath on your neck, fingers working to undress the both of you.

not saying a word wasn’t exactly unusual, but with the way he desperately drank you in, lapsing at whatever he could — you had convinced yourself he was unwell, concussed, somewhat not of sound mind.

“m-matt,” you swallow, gripping his forearms as he lets out shallow breaths from above you. “what’s… why are you all…?”

even with your eyes empathetically searching up for his he keeps his gaze down, holding himself up as he calms himself. “m’not.” it’s blunt, squashing whatever it was you had implied.

you can only nod as you accept his lack of explanation, letting your hands slip away from their grasp as the quiet settles over.

you’ve fucked it. said too much, pushed too far, questioned something you had no intention of stopping.

but he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift at all. he just remains there, hovering over you with a breath that evens out more and more every second, till you can’t feel the weight of it anymore.

“do you want me to stop?” he doesn’t tremble, doesn’t meet your eyes either. he simply waits for a certain response.

“no, don’t stop.” you try your hardest to keep your voice steady, but it trails off into a whisper by the end — which may be the only reason his eyes roam over your face, taking in your expression, trying to read you.

he switches back quickly, head dipping down as he travels south on the bed — dragging your underwear and pyjamas along with him.

you don’t have time to process, yet alone stop the lewd sound from slipping out as his tongue passes over your cunt. it’s controlled and fluid, like always, the muscle passing over your clit in tight circles before spreading out — not stopping for a second.

he hangs onto every sound you make in a way he never had before, either that or you’d just never noticed his body melting and brows furrowing every time you moaned his name.

but you were more than sure he was never this sloppy, hands gripping your hips to pull you closer — needy rather than needed.

when you notice him shifting on the bed, a circuit of nerves run wild within you — and suddenly you’re nothing but greedy. he was desperate for you right now, and in that very moment you could feel yourself taking it for granted, wanting more.

“m-matt,” you’re hesitant, testing the waters as your hand lingers down to grip his hair. “feels good.”

it’s far from confident, a little more than a pleading whisper that begs to get him going even more. despite his attempts to hide it, it most certainly works — an almost too hard suck to your clit before he’s pulling off, rushing kisses up your torso to settle in the dip of your shoulder.

theres a shuddering breath as he pushes in slowly, mingling with your short whine as you feel his dick sink in — or rather get sucked in.

you can feel his body tensing more than usual, his focus a little off before his throat clears. “does my dick feel better?”

you could’ve passed away then and there. something so simple as a dirty question had you completely hot all over — face burning up. “a-always.” one word was enough, you weren’t sure you could get another out.

it was enough for him as he seems to relish in the fact, grinding deeper, chest pressed up against your bra cladded one.

you’re almost afraid to touch him, pull him in closer. his expertise had never felt better than right now in this very moment, and the only thing that could ruin it would be you — digging deeper than you needed, expecting too much from someone who’d made it very clear what this was.

acquaintances, barely friends, who find time to fuck on the regular and keep it between these four walls. it was purely sex, which over time had become a massive spanner for your feelings that you made no effort to get over nor admit.

the rift that kept you separate in every other way was nothing more than your own doing. and you’d never forgive yourself if you let the one part of him you had, go.

so you don’t do anything crazy, you let every feeling soak in, you moan his name quietly despite how much more you wanted to say, and you most certainly don’t push your luck when you feel his body melting into yours.

only the proximity gives way to an urge you’d kept to yourself, body speaking for itself as your hips push down against his — an attempt to take more of his cock no matter how much you already had.

“mh—fuck.”

oh.

a sloppy moan, caught quickly enough to cut off. a twitch that’s impossible to ignore as his hips still.

is it over, have you really ripped this away with one movement? would it be so stupid to fuck it up some more instead of listening to the silence that sinks down over you?

“mm.” it’s more of a grunt now, muffled by your shoulder as he buries his head in the crevice of your neck, attempting to burrow into the pillow beneath you.

but there you are, slowly grinding your hips down on his dick, letting it disappear deep within your cunt before you push back up as far as you can with his body caging you in.

he’s still here, he hasn’t taken the reigns — hasn’t deflected to avoid any sense of vulnerability.

he’s sunken against you, louder than he’s ever been with his fingers flexing against your hips — tethering between silently urging you to keep going and physically stopping you.

but he hasn’t stopped you, and if he wasn’t such a tightly wound, emotionally unavailable guy he would’ve been grunting for more instead of swallowing every sound down — acting as if this wasn’t driving him completely insane.

so it seems completely right to let the confidence take over, planting your feet on the bed to help you move back and forth, desperately getting yourself off.

you go as far as to run your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck, clinging onto him as you come undone with barely any stimulation. a blissful shot to the system as you bite down on his shoulder to stop the sounds — as if you’d ever done that before, as if it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“oh—shit.” he pulls out quick, and through the hot flushes running over your skin your feel his cum spurt out over your stomach as he shakes above you.

messy and completely out of his control, like it’s completely slipped away from him, rendering him the best orgasm of his life — every attempt of keeping it together utterly crumbling because of you.

it’s beyond ego boosting, it hits you right in the gut, in the heart — beyond your mind. it doesn’t inflate your head, it simply twists something deep in your stomach. enough to make you nauseated.

you can’t let go of it, of him on top of you like this. you want to say something, interfere with the phenomenon just to assure it doesn’t slip away.

but if you weren’t already the stupidest girl, you sure would be after that.