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[rinsaesweethrt]

ㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤ.ㅤ.ㅤLAP-RIDING CHRIS WHILE HE'S GAMINGㅤ ׅ ㅤ ⊹ㅤ

ׅ ⊹ㅤwarning;ㅤsmut, gamer!chris x needygf!reader dynamic, lap-riding, cockwarming, mild dumbification

where . . . Chris was mid-game, mic on, eyes glued to the screen, talking quietly to his teammates. But he kept glancing toward you — standing just behind his setup, arms folded, silently begging for attention.

He’d tossed out a quick excuse—lag or whatever—mumbling it into the mic while clicking the toggle, and no one questioned it. They couldn’t see what you were doing, after all.

“You wanna be good for me, baby?” he’d whispered against your throat, headset already on, screen glowing blue in front of him. “Then sit here and keep me warm. Quiet. I’ll be done soon.”

The thing was — Chris wasn’t just big. He was mean about it, in the most infuriatingly patient way. He knew exactly how full he left you. The way his cock curved just slightly up and dragged against that perfect spot inside you. How your body always, always clenched around him too tightly at first, gasping for breath like it was your first time every time.

And when he stayed there—deep, unmoving, snug inside you for what felt like forever—it drove you crazy.

Now, nearly thirty minutes later, you were soaked, aching, twitchy with need and still filled to the brim. His cock pulsed gently inside you every time he said a command or shifted in his gaming chair, and you swore he was doing it on purpose.

The low thrum of his voice in the mic didn’t help either.

“Left side, I pinged him—no, bro, flank him,” Chris muttered, barely aware that you were squirming more now, trying to rub your swollen folds on the waistband of his sweats. You buried your face into his hoodie, biting down hard to muffle a moan.

He noticed.

One of his hands left the keyboard to squeeze your thigh — hard. He murmured, leaning down against her ears, “Still, babe...”

You nodded against him, but your hips betrayed you, rolling forward in slow, searching circles. Just enough to feel the stretch, just enough to feel him press against that spot inside that made your breath hitch.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck...fuck—”

Click. Mic muted.

“Are you seriously trying to ride me right now?”

You nodded. Again. This time on purpose. Eyes glassy. “Need you,” you whispered. “Feels too good. Can’t just sit—Chris, I can’t…”

His eyes stayed locked on yours for another second before he moved his eyes on the screen. “You’re losing your mind over cock you already have. That desperate, dove?”

You whined. You were past the point of caring how pathetic you sounded.

He reached down, palming your hips, letting you move just once — a single needy bounce — and you gasped, clenching down so hard he hissed through his teeth.

“Shi— Alright.”

Another click. Headset off.

“You want it that bad? Then ride.” His voice dropped to a low growl. “But you’re not cumming until I say. Understood?”

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you nodded frantically, already lifting yourself up and sinking back down, moaning into his hoodie. He was so deep. Stretching you like he had all night, but now — now it was moving. Now every thick inch dragged against your walls, wet and desperate, slick sounds filling the quiet room.

Chris leaned back in the chair, hands gripping your thighs now, watching you lose it. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable—hungry, locked on the way your body shook every time you took him in again.

“Messy little thing,” he muttered, voice rough now. “All that whining, just to fuck yourself stupid on my cock.”

You tried to talk — a plea, a thank you, something — but your mouth wouldn’t work. Only broken moans, dizzy gasps, and the sound of skin meeting skin as you picked up pace, using him, grinding down until the world blurred.

His cock throbbed harder, twitching inside you like it knew you were close. And you were. So close you were shaking.

“Chris—please—can I—”

He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear.

“No.”

ㅤㅤ۫ㅤㅤ꒰ㅤ@ RiNSAEㅤ꒱ㅤㅤdo not work or copyㅤㅤ⊹ㅤdo you want next part? what could he do? murmuring praise && filty stuff or bend you over?ㅤ.ㅤ.ㅤ.ㅤcomment if you want part 2!

[rinsaesweethrt]

ׅ ⊹ㅤwarning;ㅤsmut, student x substitute teacher dynamic, fingering, riding, praise kink (heavy teasing/flirting), office setting, size kink, midly rough, creampie

where . . . You’ve been teasing your substitute teacher all week—flirty glances, drawn-out questions, bending rules just enough to stay out of real trouble.

He finally calls you out after class, locking the door behind you with that usual, amused calm. You expected a scolding… not for things to unravel on his lap.

“Eyes up here.”

His voice lands like a soft command, calm and knowing. You’re caught—again—gazing down at the loose line of buttons on his shirt, where a hint of skin peeks through. You hadn’t meant to stare, but there’s something about him—about Matt—that pulls your eyes before your brain can stop them.

You blink and lift your gaze, cheeks already warm, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was just… looking.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he leans back slightly against the desk. “You sure? Looked like you were about to start drooling.” A hand flies to your chest, dramatically. “Was not,” you say, then add with a grin, “Maybe a little.”

He chuckles, something low and velvety, and begins to move around you—slow steps that feel unhurried but intentional. As he closes the distance between you both, he reaches to shut the office blinds, then twists the lock on the door with a soft click. The room dims, warmth blooming in the space between you. Your heart picks up. This is no longer casual.

“You’re a bold one,” he murmurs, his tone still light, but with an edge that makes your stomach twist in anticipation. “Or just curious?”

You tilt your head coyly, voice soft. “Can’t it be both?”

When he turns back around, his eyes settle on you like he’s making a decision. Then, with a small crook of his finger, he gestures you forward. When you reach him, his hands find your hips—firm, warm, and sure. He slowly spins you around, guiding your back gently against his chest. His touch never rushes. One slips around your waist, the other skimming down your thigh as he sits back into his chair, pulling you with him until you’re perched on his lap, back nestled fully to his chest.

His voice brushes your ear, calm and almost affectionate. “There. That’s better.”

You hum, adjusting slightly to the shape of him under you—already hard, thick, and pressing hot against the curve of your ass. You bite your bottom lip, shifting subtly as if you’re trying not to make it obvious. But you both know it’s intentional.

He groans quietly, a hand curling around your thigh. “You don’t even try to hide it.

“Why should I?” you murmur, leaning back just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. “You like it.” He looks down at you “I definitely do,” he admits, mouth brushing your skin.

His hand slides slowly between your thighs, stroking lightly over your inner skin, teasing. You gasp softly, shifting your legs open without needing to be asked. He drags his fingers up the front of your panties—already soaked—then hooks one side and gently pulls the fabric aside. You feel cool air brush your folds, your hips jerking subtly as he hums behind you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through your slick. “Already so wet, sweetheart.”

You make a soft sound in your throat, pressing back into him more fully as his other arm wraps around your waist. His fingers stroke through your folds again, this time slower, more intentional. When he finally pushes one finger inside, you choke on a breath—his touch is just deep enough to make your thighs tremble.

“Matt—”

“You take me so well,” he whispers, fingers working you open gently. “You like this, don’t you?”

Your head falls back to his shoulder, lips parting. “I—y-yeah, I—”

He presses a second finger in beside the first, and you arch, hips lifting slightly in his lap. His hand tightens at your waist, keeping you anchored while his fingers begin to move—slow, smooth pumps that send little sparks ricocheting through your belly. Your walls flutter around him, soaking his fingers, your thighs trembling.

“You’re perfect like this,” he breathes, his voice thick against your ear. “Such a pretty messy...oh god”

You clutch at the arms of the chair, grinding softly down against his hand, every nerve alight with want. His palm brushes your clit with each thrust, your breath catching as your thighs try to close—he stops that with a gentle nudge.

“Don’t hide from me now,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so fucking pretty when you fall apart.”

You feel your body tensing, slick dripping down onto his palm, your breath turning to broken gasps. Just before you break, he pulls his fingers out slow, dragging them back over your clit once more before releasing you, his free hand already curling around your hips.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

A beat later, you’re turned to face him—chest to chest—as he sinks lower into the chair. You rise onto your knees above him while he strokes himself slowly, guiding the head of his cock between your folds. The stretch is immediate. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders, fingers digging in.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips trembling as you start to lower down. “You’re— nghh...haah– oh my God...i- c- can't—”

He slides in inch by inch, and it’s a lot—thick, hot, impossibly deep. Your walls flutter trying to accommodate him, clenching around every inch he gives you. Your knees shake slightly as your thighs spread wider, struggling to take him fully.

“fuckfuck– take it,” he murmurs, voice rough now, hand flat on your lower back, the other splayed across your hip, steadying you. “ngh—c’mon, baby—just like that—”

When your hips finally meet his, you feel stretched wide, impossibly full. You exhale a shaky moan, burying your face against his neck, lips brushing his skin as you try to catch your breath.

“Feels like...you were made for me,” he mutters, pressing kisses to your jaw. “"oh, baby—baby, so tight—.”

Your fingers tangle in the collar of his shirt as you begin to move, slow at first—testing the angle, adjusting to the drag of him inside you. His cock fills you so perfectly that you can feel every ridge, every pulse, each motion scraping along all the right places. His arms wrap around you, anchoring you to him like he’s afraid to let you go.

You ride him with your arms around his shoulders, chest pressed to his, breath mingling as your pace builds. His hands stay on you—one guiding your hips in rhythm, the other slipping up to cradle the back of your head as he presses his mouth to yours again and again.

“You’re doing so good,” he breathes into your skin. “Just like that.”

Every time you sink back down, he meets you with an upward thrust, deeper and rougher now, chasing the pleasure that’s building between your thighs. You whine into his neck, clenching tighter around him with each pass, your skin damp and flushed.

“Matt— f- uck... nghh– ah! I’m gonna—” you gasp, voice high and shaking.

You fall apart in his lap, trembling around him as he fucks you through it, whispering praise against your skin until he follows—hips jerking up, cock buried deep, spilling inside you with a groan that echoes off the office walls.

You go still in his arms, both of you breathless, wrapped around each other like you’ve got nowhere else to be. The air is thick with heat, your skin tingling from the aftershock.

Eventually, you lean back just far enough to meet his eyes again—still dazed, your lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

“So…” you pant, lips quirking into a smile, “do I still get detention?”

Matt exhales a quiet laugh, brushing your hair back from your face, fingers curling loosely at the nape of your neck.

“You just earned straight A’s sweetheart.”

ㅤㅤ۫ㅤㅤ꒰ㅤ@ RiNSAEㅤ꒱ㅤㅤdo not work or copyㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤwhat else can matt do?

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ㅤㅤ۫ㅤㅤ꒰ㅤ@ RiNSAEㅤ꒱ㅤㅤdo not work or copyㅤㅤ⊹ㅤ