iced-obsidian

[iced-obsidian]

Shopping Trip (Krueger x Reader)

The doors slide open when you approach them, and you step inside the huge mall, seeing shops left and right. You have one goal, and that goal lies a few meters away. You grab Sebastian’s hand, tugging him behind you as you start walking with determination to your set destination. 

“Remind me why I had to come?” He asks, looking around. It’s all clothing stores, perfumeries, and some gaming shops that look too suspicious to be here. He, too, looks way too suspicious with his black gear. All black, not gothic, just mysterious. 

You stop in front of a glass frame, the doors are already wide open, welcoming any customer that would dare enter this world of flashy colors and tall plastic mannequins who probably wouldn’t survive if they were made of flesh and bones. 

“You are here to judge the outfits.” You answer, leading him to the part of the store where all the dresses are, or most of them. 

“Would you even listen to me if I told you I didn’t like something?” He sighs, shaking his head but still letting you pull him wherever you want to go. 

You shake your head, holding back a smile as you stand in front of a clothes rack holding multiple red colored dresses. You pass through each of them, sometimes taking one out and handing it to him, with the silent plea to carry them for you. 

“I’m not sure that “dress hanger” was in the contract.” He laughs, but still holds onto the dresses, looking and feeling their texture, commenting on them sometimes. 

“You just didn’t read the contract thoroughly enough.” 

You stop yourself after having chosen four dresses from the multitude of choices that lay in front of you, telling yourself that you can always come back if it’s ever needed. Or send him. He’d be so happy to help. 

You push him towards the fitting rooms. They’re mostly empty, only two of them have the curtain closed, and even then, you’re not sure anyone is on the other side. You choose the cabin at the far end of the hallway, pushing him inside before closing the curtain behind you. You sit him on the little bench next to the mirror, grabbing one of the dresses and placing it on one of the hooks near the mirror. You start taking your own clothes off, knowing very well that he’ll eat you with his eyes. You fold your clothes, placing them next to him on the bench before pulling the dress off the hanger and examining it a little more in detail. You feel his gaze on you, you know he’s following every curve of your body, from your full thighs to the fat on your stomach, the one that makes you double-take every choice you’ve ever made about clothes. Dresses are the hardest, because they’re fitting, because they force you to see the forms you don’t especially like. 

He’s not really here to judge, he’s more here to hype you up, give you the boost of confidence that you know will run away from your own body as you try the dress. 

You turn to him and he meets your eyes, the expression on his face sending shivers down your spine. 

“Uh…before I try it, any opinion on the color and all?” 

He takes a look at the dress, one hand reaching for the fabric and spreading out the pleat of the dress. 

“Blood red, I like it. A bit short, don’t you think?” 

There’s no judgment in his words, and you shake your head, placing the dress on your body. “Reaches mid-thigh, it’s long enough.” 

He’s not looking at the dress anymore, but at your body, because when you move the dress away, his eyes stay fixated on your underwear, and you can almost swear he digs a hole through it with the wave of heat swimming through your body. If you ever doubt yourself and how attractive you are, you know exactly where to go to feel on top of the world. 

You open the zipper on the back of the dress, stepping in it and sliding it up your body. The fabric is stretchy and comfortable, and the pleated part somewhat hides the parts you’re not very fond of. 

“Help me close the back please.” You turn around, and he stands up, pulling the zipper up. His arms wrap around your body and he kisses the back of your neck, whispering how well the dress fits you. You could wear a trash bag, he’d tell you the same. He’s sincere, you know that much, but when it comes to you, he’s too enamored to have any valid opinion. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, at him still holding you, swaying you left and right. 

“I like it, but I want to try the other ones.” You tell him, and he lets you go, opening the zipper for you and leaving kisses along your spine while doing so. God, the shivers you feel make you almost sigh in pleasure, but you swallow the sound back down your throat.

You take the dress off, putting it on the hanger again and leaving it on the hook as you grab the second one. This one is lighter, the red almost a dark pink, and the bottom of the dress ends in a tube just below your ass. This one may be too short, but you still slide your legs inside, jumping your way through putting it on. 

“Is the jumping part normal?” He asks, and you hear the smile in his voice. 

“It’s part of the process.” You stick your tongue out, putting your arms through the straps. This dress is stretchy enough that it doesn’t need any zipper or openings to fit over your curves, but looking at yourself in the mirror doesn’t have the desired effect. 

“I hate it.” 

He doesn’t contradict what you say, doesn’t try to make you change your mind, just nods and tells you to try the next one. He knows that baseless compliments feel worse for you than a well placed insult, even if he doesn’t always agree with your views on your body. 

You hurry to slide the dress off, throwing it in a bundle on the bench. It lands on top of your clothes and he grabs it, shaking it into its original form before putting it back on its hanger. 

The third dress is similar to the first one, although maybe a little shorter, and the straps are wide, taking up the space from the end of your shoulder to the middle of a collarbone. The square neckline shows a bit more than you’d like, but you know Sebastian would use it as an argument to buy the dress. The thought makes you smile a little. You turn to him, pointing at the zipper. 

“I like this one. It shimmers.” He whispers, his body unnecessarily close to yours, his back pressed against your chest. True, the fabric is covered in glitters, some of it sticking to your own fingers when you dust the dress off. You’re not sure of the quality, but you’re sure of the way your head leans to the side when he starts kissing the side of your neck. 

You feel his hot breath against your skin, the wet heat of his tongue and the slight pain when he bites his way up to your ear. He migrates your body to face the mirror, his pointer finger following a line from the middle of your chin to the start of your décolleté, where the dress stops him from going further down. He’d rip it, if it was yours. 

Instead, he cups your breast with one hand, observing your reactions through the mirror, the ones you try so hard to conceal. You’re blushing, there’s no hiding the effect he has on you, there’s no hiding the way your heart beats under his fingers. You know he feels it, because he asks, with a honey soft voice, and you feel your legs give up under you. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast? I’m not doing anything…” 

And his fake innocent tone doesn’t match his next move, his second hand pulling on the pleats of the dress, sliding the hem higher and higher up your thighs, until he can see your panties. He’s doing much more than nothing, and you watch, unable to stop him because maybe you want it as much as he does.

The hand he had placed on your breast slides down, and he sneaks a few fingers under the thin fabric of your underwear, reaching down until he feels wetness on his fingers. He hisses, and you’re certain he’s about to melt you, turn you into putty, with the way he locks eye contact with you. 

“You’re soaking wet.” 

His fingers glide a little higher, rubbing your clit for a few seconds before he takes his hand out, tugging on your underwear. “Take it off.” 

You know nobody can see you, but your cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment as you tug your panties down, handing them to him. He puts them in his pocket, like he always does, and you’re positive your cheeks took a darker shade, if even possible. 

His fingers regain their spot on your pussy, rubbing your clit, using his thigh to spread your legs how he pleases, and you know perfectly that those curtains won’t muffle any moans that might come out of your mouth, so you bite your lip, trying your best to control the volume of your voice, which becomes harder the closer you are to climaxing. Sebastian sees it, but instead of stopping the circling motion, he brings his other hand - after asking you to hold the skirt up - up to your mouth, pushing two fingers inside and letting you suck on them. 

“Fuck…look at you, look at how good you look…” He murmurs. “I want to fuck you in that dress, make you fucking scream.” 

You whine around his digits, your eyes rolling back when your first orgasm hits you, making your legs shake slightly and your breath catch in your throat. The only reason why you don’t collapse on the floor is because he holds you, one arm around your stomach, and sits you on his lap as he takes place on the bench. The dresses are on the floor, but none of you care. All you can see is the curtain, and you stare at it while he spreads your legs. Imagining someone enters it, they would see your cunt on full display, and this idea, fuck, it sends electrifying sensations in your lower stomach. 

His fingers roam over the inside of your thighs, and he grabs the fat there, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest, making you almost mirror him with a moan. He wants you. He’s probably never wanted you more than right now. You feel it with the way he touches you. His hard cock is also a great indicator of it. His mouth closes around a spot on your neck, where he leaves a hickey dark enough for people to see. He loves it, showing people that he owns you, and showing you how much you belong to him, even when people are around, mostly when people are around. 

“I wish people could see you, how pliant you’re being for me, how easy it is to slide my fingers in and out your cunt…” His gesture follows his words, and he pushes a few fingers of his right hand inside your pussy, thrusting them slowly, building your pleasure and molding you around it. 

You gasp, your hips grinding, meeting his fingers or at least trying to, as muffled whimpers escape your lips, around his fingers, and you feel the drool pooling inside your mouth and down your chin. He doesn’t pull his fingers out, no, even pushing them further in, making you gag on them. The ones inside your cunt stop moving, and instead, he uses his thumb to massage your clit again, until your breath hitches, until your hips can’t help but buck forward, chasing your second orgasm, and he tears it out of you. 

“That’s it, fuck…I’ll ruin that fucking dress, cum all over it.” He praises you, letting you ride your orgasm before pulling his fingers out of your cunt and your mouth, only to lift his slicked fingers up to your parted lips. “Suck them clean.” 

You do, and tasting yourself on his fingers has you almost cumming a third time. With his free hand - the one not being currently drooled on - he opens his pants, taking his hard cock out. He keeps his promise, or at least fulfills the idea he’d had in mind of ruining the dress before you even bought it. You can see in the corner of your eye, that he’s jerking himself off, and you know it’ll all land on the back side of your dress, right under where the zipper stops, because that’s where he aims. You stay still, the way seeing that makes you feel is indescribable, but once you see it, you can’t take your eyes off it, and when he marks the dress, his head rolling back against the wall behind him, you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. 

“Told you.” He laughs, breathless. “Turn around, wanna fuck you.” 

What you witnessed made the temperature of your body rise considerably, but seeing him still hard, as if making a mess of the dress had turned him on, makes your brain short-circuit, and you feel your pussy clench as you change position, facing him. 

“I’ll have to buy the dress…” You pout, and he shakes his head, the words coming out of his mouth making your eyes widen a little. 

“We can put it back, nobody will know, just us.” He lifts the skirt up with one hand, sliding the fingers of his other hand back inside you. “And one day, you’ll see someone wear that dress, or maybe another one, and you’ll think of me.” 

Fuck. You can’t help but find this idea hot, although you wouldn’t agree on putting it back. He surely would do it, he’s that type. You have no time to think more about it, because his mouth on your décolleté distracts you, because everything he does stops you from thinking straight. 

“I could mark the front too…” He looks down at the dress, clean…too clean. You see in the way his eyes light up that an idea pops in his mind, but he doesn’t say anything about it. You do feel a little scared, because his ideas are never what people would expect. He could open the curtain anytime and fuck you for everyone to see. You know he won’t do that, not here, but you know he’s been thinking about it. 

He doesn’t jerk himself off immediately, but after taking his fingers out from inside you, he uses the slick to rub the tip of his cock, and you stare at his fingers while his eyes are riveted on you, on the dress, and he can’t fight the urge of cumming on it again, because he might as well ruin every part of it as much as he can. But first, he aims the head of his cock at your pussy, and you have to close your eyes to keep them from rolling back. His cum is hot against your skin, and he tells you to use it to rub your clit, turning what was left of you into a whining mess. You don’t care if people hear you, you can’t even think past the heat in your lower stomach, or past his cum, the one you use as lube to masturbate. 

This time, his dick softens, and he watches you reach your third orgasm, body trembling, mouth agape and eyes closed. The muscles in your thighs tense for a second before relaxing, and you lay yourself on top of him, your face hidden in the crook of his neck. Your breath is erratic, your heart feels like it’s about to break out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, and you’re so wet you know it’s staining his pants, and you know he won’t mind, he’d proudly walk around knowing you ruined his pants, and you’d walk behind, cheeks red in embarrassment but feeling hornier than ever. 

He pulls you in for a kiss, one soft in comparison to all the things he did to you, all the things he plans on doing, because you know he won’t stop until you’re unable to walk straight, until your inner thighs are wet with his cum and your juices. 

You feel sweat run down your temples as he runs both his hands around your body, placing them on your asscheeks to push you closer to him, making you grind against his cock and silencing the moans you can’t hold back anymore with his lips on yours. It feels good, he feels good and your mind shuts down, instinct ruling your reactions, the speed at which you roll your hips, slow, intense, and when his cock is hard enough, he lifts you a little, removing one hand from the curve of your ass to lead his cock inside you. He doesn’t lift you up and down his cock, just makes you continue grinding, feel the way your cunt is stretched around his girth, how hot it is inside you, how wet it makes you. 

“You’re so tight, fuck…” He moans against your lips, his voice just a bit hoarse, just a bit desperate, and when he can’t take it anymore, he plants his feet flat on the ground, grabs your hips, nails digging in the flesh, and thrusts his hips up, pushing his cock as deep as it can go, skin slapping against skin. You know that the background music that plays in the store hides most of the sounds, but you’re pretty sure that if anyone is in the room next to his one, they’re hearing what you’re doing. 

Sebastian seems to have come up with the same conclusion, because his gaze shifts to the wall separating both fitting rooms, and he speeds up, as if trying to make sure that they’re hearing it, make sure they know you’re being fucked an inch into your own life. You moan, you whimper, you beg him to move…stop…just, anything. You need to feel him inside you, you need to try and control your voice, but he doesn’t let you, because when you clasp your hands on your mouth, he stops moving. 

“Let them hear you.” He growls, and you clench around him, unsure of what pushed you over the edge. He curses under his breath as he reaches his own orgasm, and he fucks you through it, ripping broken moans out of you. He exhales, finally coming to a stop, and you sigh. 

“Do you think they heard us?” You ask, eyes closed and forehead leaning against his shoulder. 

“I hope they did.” He answers, and you should’ve seen it coming, you know exactly how he is. His fingers caress the base of your scalp, above your neck. He’s still inside of you, and you know that cum will drip out when he pulls out. Your body shivers. 

“Nobody came, though.” You continue, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt, tugging on it. 

“Want us to go on until someone opens the curtain?” 

You don’t answer. There’s a pause from his side, one where you know the gears in his brain click together. 

“Fuck. You do want that.” 

[iced-obsidian]

Enjoy.

And read the tags or I'll bite you.

[iced-obsidian]

Sid, smut writer, mostly x reader (weirdly enough)

AO3: Iced_Obsidian

Requests: opened

xoxo

[iced-obsidian]

Smoke. (Krueger x Reader)

He’s sitting on a sofa, his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He’s talking with other men, and you stare at him. You know you shouldn’t be there, this is not your world, but you can’t help it. You saw him in front of the building, mesh covering his face with only his eyes peeking through. He has that mysterious aura that makes you wonder who he is, what he does in life. Well, you know exactly what he does in life, you’ve been a witness to his numerous transactions. 

You can’t say if he’s seen you, and if yes, if he’s deliberately ignoring you, or if he’s trying to gently tell you to fuck off. You can’t do that, you can’t let go of a chance like that. Maybe desire is speaking, or maybe it’s love at first sight, but something draws you nearer to him. 

You see one of them point at you but you don’t look away. You want him to turn around and see you, even if he takes you for one of the sluts around, an easy girl, you don’t care. It is feral, that need inside you, it twisted your guts. You need to feel his hands all over your body, you need to know how it feels to kiss him. 

He does turn around, and he does look at you. What you didn’t expect is for him to say something to his friends, or colleagues for all you know, and stand up to walk in your direction. You panic a little, run a hand through your hair and put on your best smile. 

“I’ve seen you stare at me.” He says, as a conversation starter. 

Yes, indeed. You feel like you could’ve bore holes in his head with how much you’ve been staring 

“That’s because I was staring at you.” You answer smugly, and you see him raise an eyebrow. 

It’s his turn to stare at you, his cold gaze  turning your legs into putty and shutting all kinds of backtalk off. He looks you up and down, as if gauging your worth. You wait patiently, heart beating a little faster when you spot a wide grin under his mesh. He doesn’t take it off. You’ve never seen him bare face, but you can guess his features under it. He doesn’t have a beard, his lips are a little dry, but nothing that would make you think he’d bite them. His bottom lashes are a dark brown. Men always have perfect lashes, as if they were the ones born wearing make-up. It does make you a little jealous. 

“Wanna sit with us?” He asks you, and all you can do is nod. He’s still smiling, but his eyes stay cold, even when they turn into crescents.You wonder what his past looks like, but you don’t dare ask now. You will never ask.

He sits down on the only free spot between two men. You stand a little further, confused as to where you’re supposed to squeeze yourself if the sofa is full. He answers it immediately by patting his lap. You frown for a second, but when he stares at you, nodding down at his lap, you know he meant it. You’re scared of being too heavy, or for his legs to turn numb after a few minutes. What if he tells you to stand up again? 

You ignore your worries and sit on his lap, facing him. You feel the muscles under your rear flex when he moves his legs, and you wonder if the rest of his body is as muscular. His hands end up on your thighs, and he caresses them, pushing your skirt higher and higher while talking to the men around the coffee table. One of them is looking at you, and you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You look down at the hands touching you. 

“Uh…what’s your name?” You whisper, hoping he’s the only one to hear you. 

“Sebastian.” He answers in the middle of his sentence before going back to the main subject of his conversation. You’re not listening, because his right hand slipped under your skirt. You check if any of them are watching, but they’re all either talking or glued on their phones. You let out a relieved sigh but still try to close your legs. He doesn’t let you, the fingers on his other hand digging into your thigh as he uses his legs to keep your thighs apart. 

“They’re not paying attention.” He whispers in your ear, and as true as it may be, you still feel the blush creep up your face when he tugs your panties to the side. You can’t help but look around, bottom lip tortured by your teeth. What if they see you? What would they think? But none of them seem to care. It’s like you’re a ghost on his lap.

They’re passing a joint, from the smell, and Sebastian drags on it for a second, his mesh scarf pulled down. He then grabs your chin, and opens your mouth with his thumb to blow the smoke inside it. It tastes like weed. Obviously. You can’t say why but him doing that was hot, and you feel a rush of pleasure course through your body. 

When he lets go of the joint, his hands are back under your skirt, and the fingers that were just pulling your underwear aside a minute earlier, start massaging the entrance to your cunt. He doesn’t push any fingers in yet. His lips are on your neck and you feel him suck your skin between his teeth. You hold your breath, your hands shyly making contact with his shirt covered torso. You feel the dents between his abdominal muscles, and his nipple when your hand climbs further up his chest. He lets you touch him. 

You feel more confident, so you target that one nipple your fingers had bumped into and start circling it. You don’t know if it does anything to him, but it is worth a try. The sigh escaping his lips, against your neck, is the sign you needed. You may be playing a dangerous game, but that is something for future you to worry about. 

The fingers that had only been teasing their way around your pussy finally slide inside you. His fingers are colder than you are, and the slight change in temperature has you moaning. You wish they didn’t hear it. Sebastian did, for sure. He heard it so well that he stopped pushing his fingers inside you, whispering “Don’t be too loud, they’ll hear you.” near your ear. You’ll try your best, when he has fingers thrusting inside you and his mouth leaving marks on your neck. Yeah, trying your best should do the trick..

You know one of them has noticed what has been going on between you two, because you keep feeling his gaze on you every few minutes. You do not turn around to see who exactly it is, even trying to go as far and ignore it, which appears to be a little hard.

You’re not ashamed. Or well, you probably are a little bit, but that is not the issue. Sebastian must see him too. He's using you to make a show, which has your cheeks burning and the pit of your stomach set aflame. His fingers feel teasingly good, and you know you can't roll your hips. They may not look in your direction, except one, if you start wiggling on his lap it will draw their attention to you. 

All they see for now, you hope, is you too cuddling way too close. None of them have commented on that either. Which must be good. You feel like they're the type to think aloud. 

The hand that was digging the flesh in your thigh slides up and around, grabbing your asscheek under the skirt. It feels possessive, although you do not belong to each other. Fuck, you've just met and it already feels like you're his only. You let out a sigh which makes him smile against your skin. He's still nibbling at it, and you know you will have a red mark, if not purple with how long it has been. 

"You're wet." He notices, and if the blush on your cheeks wasn't noticeable enough, you're pretty sure it is now. You shake your head, as if denying what's evident. 

"No?" He asks, a tint of confusion in his voice. "But look…" He starts, teasingly, his fingers sliding back inside you. You hold a gasp. "If I slide my fingers here," He pushes them deep, then pulls them back and reaches for your clit "and massage that little bud here," You look at him, lips pressed together, breathing deep through your nose to not be tempted to buck your hips forward "See how easy it is?" 

He doesn't stop circling your clit, once he starts. He goes slowly, and the deep breaths end up not being enough. You hide your face in the hollow of his neck, the mesh scarf feeling a little rough on your skin, but at least it will distract you from the sensations you're feeling down there. 

His hand changes position, and while his index and middle finger find their way back inside you, he uses his thumb to rub the pleasure bud. You bite your lip and let out a muffled moan. One you know they heard. 

They must know what's going on. They knew from the start, since you sat on Sebastian's lap. You don't look around anymore, that would give you away. 

The joint has done a full circle and is back in his hand. He gives it to you. "Hold it, my hands are busy." You whine, forced to move your face back from the hiding spot you had found. He's laughing, and you're tempted to make him eat the joint you're holding, but all you do is place the base in his mouth. He takes another drag and blows it over your face, his fingers moving a little faster. Fuck.

You try to discreetly roll your hips against his fingers, but his second hand holds you down. He's strong. You were already painfully aware of that when you sat on his lap, but now, the way he keeps you from moving with just a hand has you dizzy with pleasure. Maybe you're just incredibly weak. 

You don't know if inhaling the smoke has as much effect as smoking the joint, but you surely feel a little dazed. It may be because it's your first time. Again, this is not your world. 

He grabs one of your hands, shortly letting go of your body, and brings it to his crotch. You use those short seconds to desperately grind your hips against his fingers, pushing them further inside. 

"Hot…" You hear him say, his fingers curling inside you. You gasp. "You’re loud." He says, but doesn't stop pressing the targeted spot. Around you, all you hear is silence. 

"Fuck." 

You can't say what brings you over the edge. Is it feeling the outline of his hard cock, or the way he curled his fingers while rubbing your clit? Or maybe it was that fuck you heard somewhere behind you. 

What you're sure of, is that Sebastian is looking down at his soaked fingers, then back up at you. 

"Not wet, hm?" He pushes them in your mouth, and you suck them with way too much enthusiasm.  You're too high on pleasure to care about what they think. You just want him, whatever part of him, inside you. 

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you try to follow them, letting out a frustrated whine. 

"Shh, don't worry, I'm not done with you."

_______________________________________________________________________

Part 2. = Sebastian carries u to the bathroom and fucks u on the sinks

You’re barely able to focus, the only thing you want is him, closer, naked against you. He must know it too, because the way he looks at you has you dizzy, craving for more. He left marks along the side of your neck, his fingers are wet with your saliva and he’s hard. You can’t just leave it at that.

His arms circle your hips and he places his hands on your asscheeks, pushing you against his crotch. You whine when you feel the outline of his cock against your naked pussy. 

“Look at what you did to me.” He breathes in your ear, and you bite your lip hoping to muffle your moan. Fuck, you want to grind your hips against him, you want to get his cock out and let him take you here and now. The others are still here, but you don’t care anymore. 

You’re about to do just that, but he stops you and you stare at him with a frown, like a child who’d been held back from eating more candy. 

“Not here, bathroom.” 

It shouldn’t be that easy for him to carry you, it shouldn’t be that hot to have your feet off the ground, wrapped around his waist. The skirt hides the fact that your panties are still pushed to the side, and you hide his erection to the world, although you’re sure they all know, with how red you must be. 

“Give me the joint, we’ll finish it.” he says to one of his friends. Friend, colleague, you can’t tell. 

“Have fun!” One of them says, and you hide your face in the crook of Sebastian’s neck.

 He’s the one who reacted earlier, you recognize the voice. You don’t even want to look at him. He already knows too much, you’ll never be able to talk to him normally if you were ever bound to meet again.

Sebastian pushes the door to the bathroom, and you look around. Sinks, a few stalls and two showers. Practical. 

You think he’s going to enter one of the stalls, or set you down. He doesn’t. He sets you on the surface in between the sinks, your back against the mirror. 

“Open your mouth.” He orders, taking a drag of the joint he’s holding between his thumb and index. You take a second to observe the features of his face before slowly parting your lips, waiting for him to blow the smoke in your mouth. He does, while his free hand slides under your skirt once again, this time pulling your panties off. He puts them in the pocket of his pants. He’s going to keep them, let you walk out of here half naked. 

He lets you hold the joint, with the advice to not let it fall. Easier said than done, in your situation. He slides you towards him, your legs on his shoulder, his clothed dick pressed against your cunt. He looks at you for a few seconds, then throws a look in the mirror behind you. 

“If someone comes in,,” he starts, taking his cock out and teasing your entrance with his tip. You focus on what’s in your hand as best as you can, waiting for the rest of his sentence. He slowly pushes his dick inside your wet, fingers stretched hole, “I won’t stop. I’ll fuck you harder, I’ll make you cum while they wash their hands.”

Your heart skips a bit, your pussy clenches around his cock, and you close your eyes to avoid them from rolling in the back of your head. Fuck. He can’t say things like that and expect you to stay calm. He can’t stare at you with a smirk, while he pushes his cock as deep as it will go, leaving you breathless and flushed at the idea that anyone could open the door and see you getting fucked within an inch of your life. He can’t, yet he’s doing it, and all you can do is hold him close to you and try to silence your moans, as if it changed anything. 

He moves slowly, at first, as if testing the waters, observing your reactions, the way you press him closer, the way your hips roll instinctively against his, the way you suddenly remember he’s not wearing any protection, your eyes widening for a second. 

“You’re not…you didn’t put a condom…” You whisper, and he looks at you for a second, then down, pulling out almost entirely. 

“Oh? You’re right. I guess I’m gonna knock you up, then.” He smiles, slamming his cock back in. 

Your mouth opens in a voiceless moan, the air is punched out of your lungs and your nails dig in his back, over his clothes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He does it again, twice, thrice, turning you into a whining mess. 

“Don’t be so loud, it’ll attract people.” He whispers in your ear, as if it wasn’t his plan all along, as if his hand didn’t find your clit again, rubbing it while he thrusts into you. He tugs on the collar of your top with his free hand, hard enough to rip it. You stare down, then up at him, and he smiles. He fucking smiles, his hand cupping your breast. 

“Geil.” 

He stops moving for a second, to listen to the door open. “We have a spectator.” He breathes, before moving both his hands around your thighs, fucking into you with newfound vigor, while the stranger tries his best to pretend and ignore it.

There’s something about knowing you’re being watched, about the thrill, how close it brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck…you got tighter.” He laughs, almost in disbelief. “You like being watched? That’s hot.” His last words are said in a cheeky voice, paired with a smirk  that has you blushing and looking away. But looking away apparently isn’t up to his tastes, and with a firm hand, he lifts your chin. 

“Look at me while I fuck you.” He orders, his nails then digging in your thighs, holding you in place while he thrusts faster, harder, knowing damn well that the stranger has his eyes on you and can’t take them away. He angles his thrusts just the right way to make you scream while you bite your lips to avoid sounding like a desperate slut. 

"He's enjoying the show…" He whispers, and you throw a look at the other man, who's been washing his hands for far too long. "Don’t try to silence yourself, let him hear how good I make you feel." 

You don't know if it's even possible, but your heart beats faster, your cunt tightens and he curses under his breath. 

"Fuck. Do that again and I'll cum inside you, breed you. That what you want?" 

You nod, shake your head, unsure of what he even asked. You're drowning in pleasure, so close to climax, yet having someone watching you keeps you on edge. 

"I promised that I'd make you cum while they watch, didn't I?" He growls in your ear, making your body jolt with the force of his thrusts. "Touch yourself." 

He looks at your hand, going down slowly to lift your skirt, displaying your pussy to anyone watching, and his cock. He doesn't care about people seeing him, but you blush, shyly reaching a finger down to your clit. You circle it, slowly, already feeling the orgasm coming. 

"That's it. Gonna cum on my cock? Make me cum inside you?" 

You whine, rubbing a little faster, your other hand holding his arm, nails digging in his biceps. 

"Look at that, other people came? Wanna show them what a good slut you are?" 

You shake your head but don't stop touching yourself. You can't focus on anything but the 

mind blowing pleasure that is peaking, just a little more…fuck. 

He lets the burnt joint fall in the sink, you totally forgot about it, and captures your lips in a heated kiss as you feel him cum inside you, his grip on your thighs almost painful. 

Your brain can't process the lack of protection, the fact that he came inside you, the fact that he filled you while others were watching and the reason for that is that you reached your orgasm first. All you know now is that he's still inside you, breathless,  his forehead on your shoulder. 

"Fuck…verdammt that was amazing. Gott, I wanna do it again." 

You don't know if it's the weed or the whole situation, but you both start laughing, and your giggles are soon cut by his lips on yours, and he mumbles

"Wanna come to my place?" 

against your lips.

(if this flops just ignore my entire existence.)