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“S-slow down, Angel, ‘m not going anywhere…” he says, his tone laced with lust and desire.
Ever since your boyfriend stopped dying his hair pink, and started showing his true self, you literally cannot keep your hands off of him.
They’re all for it, of course, he’s not one to shy away when your desire and need are on full display for them. If anything, it only makes him hear weddings bells, knowing exactly how much you crave him with every action and every word you say. It’s like every moment is dedicated to him, like you’re almost as obsessed with they are as he is with you. Almost, of course. No one can match how much [REDACTED] yearns for you, not even yourself.
You’re pulling him by the buckle of his belt, pulling him closer to you, trying to feel his warmth. He gets the message, loud and clear, as they push you against the wall, one hand above your head, and the other gripping your chin, angling your face towards theirs.
They grin, eyes looking down at you like a predator stalking his prey. Your hands fumble as you try to unbuckle him, trying to free the goods hidden below. And as much as [REDACTED] wants to hurry things along, as much as he wants to just take you, they want to slow things down, make you work for it.
“Ah, ah,” they say, clicking their tongue. “Not yet, Angel. You’ll get that later, after you’re a good little girl.” His voice is deep, his words drawn out to fill the quiet space with impending promises of pleasure. You’re not sure what they have in mind, but you would do literally anything if it means doing it with him.
He slinks down towards the ground, their knees resting along the hardwood floor. You stand with your back against the wall as he lifts a leg around his shoulder. You stabilize yourself with your other leg, resting your weight on it as he hikes up the hem of your oversized t-shirt for easier access.
[REDACTED] takes a deep inhale, taking in the delicious aroma of your desire. He could spend hours just taking you in like this, and another time they might do just that. But right now, they need to taste you, to remind himself just how sweet you are.
His long, slender fingers pull your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the crisp, cool air. You watch as scarred fingers prod your wet slit, shivering as you think of how amazing it must feel buried deep to the knuckle inside of you. You can’t get enough of his hands. The rings he wears embellishes the scars that captivate your attention. You know they don’t like to talk about it, and you’d never ask why, but something about seeing him scarred just does something to you. Like something deep, primal within you is awakened every time you see them, which is fucking often.
You’re not complaining though, you welcome his nimble and agile fingers wherever they go. Sometimes they caress your body, other times they grip your hips or throw you around, manhandling you. Whatever he does with them, you want more of it.
They slip an index finger into your wet folds, taking in exactly how aroused you are. “Fuck, angel, so wet already?” They tease, igniting flames of embarrassment and arousal within your body. “So needy already, what am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asks, looking up at you from their position beneath you.
They don’t wait for you to answer before flicking his finger along your clit, eliciting a lewd sound from you. You gasp at the sudden pressure along your most sensitive spot as your hand grips his fluffy raven hair.
He teases you, dragging his finger from your clit to your hole agonizingly slow. Your hips buck against him, looking for friction, but they stop you. His other hand grips your hip, locking you into place. “Don’t,” they say, a look of warning spreading across their features.
You comply, not wanting to test the beast. “Good girl,” he purrs before shoving his long finger into your cunt.
The air escapes your lungs as it catches you off guard. He smirks as he feels you contract around him, squeezing his finger. “Feel good, angel? You like being stuffed, hm?” they ask, as they slowly fuck into you with their finger.
You can’t answer, not in your current state. The most you can do is your pathetic, feeble attempt at a yes, that sounds oddly like a whimper. [REDACTED] can’t help but tease your inability to form thoughts. “Can’t speak already? Cmon angel, I know you can do it…” how he expertly teases you, degrades you, and still praises you in the same sentence needs to be studied, because it has the most delicious effect on you.
You could listen to him talk you through it any day, their words like torturous pleasure to your ears. Every word, every syllable a command to feel good, a promise to unravel, and a reason to keep going.
“More,” you plead, practically breathless. “More…”
“More what? Hm? If y’want something, you gotta use your words, baby,” he coos, trying to coax the truth out of you. His finger fucks into you with slow and steady precision, taking in the wet softness of your cunt.
“More… fingers…please…” Your words are all but slurring together. Your cheeks flare at the embarrassing and compromising position you’re in, already incapable of thinking straight from a single finger.
“You’re so full already,” they purr, watching with delight as your face contorts with pleasure from every ministration. “I don’t think y’can take any more… it’s already so tight, angel.” They say. “But you asked so nicely, so who am I to deny you?” He says, before slipping in another long, slender finger.
You moan at the sudden addition, feeling even fuller than before. It feels like heaven, being stuffed and stretched full of him. Knowing he has you literally wrapped around his finger has you seeing stars, as his fingers start picking up their pace and fucking into you.
“Good girl,” he coos, before lining up his face with your cunt. His tongue lies flat against your clit, licking it in broad strokes before sucking on it, building up that familiar pressure in your core. He laps at your sensitive nub, taking in every jolt and reaction your body makes in response to his torture.
“Fuck, it feels so good!!” your words tumble out of your mouth, every syllable laced with pleasure, like even telling them how good it feels brings you ever so closer to that edge.
They hum against your clit, the vibrations sending you into orbit and having you see stars. Your tongue lolls out and spit drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All your body can take in is the pleasure of him licking and stuffing you full of his fingers.
He pulls away from you to tease you once more. “Feel good, angel? You’re drooling everywhere. Do I need to stop?” He asks, starting to pull their fingers out of your needy, aching hole.
“Noooo,” you spit out, trying to convey the message that you need him to stuff you. They smile, eyes darkening as they watch you desperately try to shift your weight to keep his fingers in.
“You want it that bad, huh?” They ask, before diving face first once more. The onslaught of their tongue is relentless, every flick, every lick a spell being cast upon you.
You feel that thread pull taut, that tightening in your core right before you are completely torn apart, seam by seam. Your body shudders above, shaking and spasming as waves of pleasure overcome you. The edges of your vision are blurry, whether it be from tears of joy or your head becoming so lightheaded that you might pass out. Whatever it is, you only feel the extricating release of pure bliss wash over you.
While distracted with the laborious task of catching your breath, you feel [REDACTED] stand up again, pressed against you. Their hands unbuckle his belt, dropping his pants to the ground and freeing his throbbing member.
You gasp, excited and enthralled at the sight of him every single time. The light catches the jewelry along the bottom side of his cock, highlighting the Jacob’s ladder piercing adorning the length of his cock.
They lift that same leg as before, using it as leverage to line himself up and push inside of your throbbing cunt. Your breath catches in your throat, the air seized from your lungs at the large sensation filling you to the brim.
Tears well at the corners of your eyes, you’re not sure you will ever get used to this feeling. It’s like he’s fucking you for the first time every time, stretching you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. But it feels so damn good, being stretched by him, being stuffed so full of them that you’re not sure you can even breathe properly.
He kisses lone tears that drag along your cheeks, kissing them away and lapping up the salty liquid. His lips find yours once more, pressing against yours with such hunger and desire that he might eat you alive. And you would let him, you think. You would let him devour you until there’s nothing left to be consumed.
His teeth tug at your lips, biting them and drawing blood. He licks away the little specks of crimson dotting your lip, tasting the very essence of you. The thought that he can so easily mark you has him gripping onto the edges of their sanity, trying to not get lost in your very being.
[REDACTED] can’t get enough of you. You’re the subject of every thought that crosses his mind. You’re the recipient of every action they take. You’re the one with the sole key to the lock around his heart, a place only you can access, a place where only you are meant to go.
His lips push against yours with more ferocity, trying to taste every inch of you. Your tongue dances with theirs, circling and intertwining in an intricate dance only you two know the moves to.
They slowly, agonizingly pull their cock out, hips pulling away from yours, before slamming it back inside, deeper than ever before. You can feel the way his piercings stimulate you, how they rub against you with cool viciousness, how it adds a sensation you would never have even considered before.
You practically pant above him, mind dancing over the intoxicating feeling of being stuffed, stretched, and fucking used. His free hand finds yours, lacing his fingers with yours and deepening that connection. [REDACTED] might be a downright freak for you, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do some cute shit too. He’s fucking you, yes, but he’s also making love to you. And it’s important to them that you can feel that too.
He pushes against you harder, deeper, your leg being stretched against your body, pressed between you two as he holds it up, anchoring himself against your body. Like you’re his lifeline, like you keep him stable.
“You’re taking me so well, angel… like you’re meant to take this cock.” He coos, eliciting a whimper from you. Their praises just do something to you, they make you feral, like you’re addicted to them and need your next hit.
You writhe in his grip, totally and completely at their mercy. Every thrust into you is slow, deliberate, calculated, like they need to maximize the amount of pleasure extracted from your body. Like they need to take their time and make this moment last forever. Like the feeling of you squeezing him needs to be burned into his memory.
Their hips pick up pace, finding a new rhythm to fuck you into oblivion with. Eventually, he can’t take the aching feeling of taking his time with you, he needs to take all of you now, he needs to feel everything now.
He bucks into you with such force it has you pushed against the wall. Every thrust is accompanied by the slick, wet sounds of his cock pistoning into you. Every slap a reminder of how much he wants you, every squelch a promise to fuck you real good.
[REDACTED] groans against you, his mouth searching for your neck, for real estate to lay claim to. Various bites and marks litter your soft skin at various stages in the healing process. What’s a few more?
He sucks and bites your skin, breaking the blood vessels beneath the thin layer of your skin. It’s not that he enjoys biting and bruising you (maybe a little), but it’s mores that he has evidence of his presence littering your entire body. Like a message to everyone that you’re taken, that you’re claimed, that you’re his.
You whimper with every mark he makes, clenching around him. He fucks you erratically, feeling his orgasm on the horizon. He fucks into you with such determination he might be an olympic medalist in the category, owning your cunt like it’s his fucking job. And it is. It’s all he ever wants to do.
“Fuck, angel, gonna cum…” they say, grunting and whining into you. His body shudders around you as his thrusts slow to a halt. You can feel the way his cock throbs and spasms inside of you, stuffing you so full of cum you might be full for fucking days.
Some of it dribbles as he pulls his sensitive cock out, splattering your thighs and creating a perverted and downright dirty sight to behold. He kisses you once more, tenderly this time, like you’re fragile and they need to be careful.
“You did so well, angel. Such a good girl.”