#PRESSING THE SUBMIT BUTTON IS HARD

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again.��

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[incognit0slut]

Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

[thewickedjazzy]

Bonus Level: “You Lookin’?” for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩beast! soukoku x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: as chuuya’s girlfriend, you never imagined that your boss would join you both—well, now he’s watching from a video call while chuuya proves he can please you best!

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: voyeurism, edging, orgasm control, video call sex, possessive beast! soukoku, jealous! chuuya, mention of cum, masturbation, exhibitionism..etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count and a/n: 1.5k. this fic is for @thedamselzelda for being this week's top Kink Coin collector. <3

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

your fingers tremble as you hold onto the fabric of his burgundy dress shirt for dear life. the slow drag of his cock buried deep inside you feels like a delicious torment. it’s been thirty long minutes, and each agonizing thrust pushes you closer to the edge of your release, yet he holds you firmly in place.

chuuya’s tongue circles your hard nipple, licking and sucking it as he rolls the other between his fingers. your nails dig in around his collarbone, leaving small crescent marks against his pale skin. he lifts his head, locking eyes with you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“mghh..c’mon doll, you can handle this.”

every time you feel yourself getting close, he slows down, pulling back just enough to deny you the release you crave. “patience, baby,” he murmurs, “you know i like to take my time.”

your legs tremble beneath you, yearning to move, to ride him, but he keeps you pinned to the chair, your body forced to submit to his pace. “chuu...mmph t’much—haah..please” you beg, desperate for release, but he only smirks. and you can’t help but wonder where this side of him comes from? he’s always been so sweet, so attentive to your own orgasm.

“not yet,” he growls, slowing his pace even further, drawing it out until you’re dizzy with desire. “i want you to feel every inch of me.”

each bounce is torturous, his cock stretching you just right, feeling every throbbing vein with each agonizing thrust.

just as the moment swells, the phone's screen on his desk flickers, it's ringing pierces through the thick haze of lust. “nngh..perfect timing, boss,” he mutters, frustration flaring in his dilated azure eyes. but then a wicked smile curls on his lips as he leans closer, breath warm against your lips. “you know what? imma give him a little show. is that okay with you, doll?”

you nod eagerly. the thrill of being on display, especially with dazai watching, makes your skin tingle with anticipation. chuuya smirks, shifting your position to sprawl you over his desk, spreading your thighs wider from behind as he presses the button to start the video call with dazai.

“let’s show that bastard who you belong to, yeah?” he whispers before the call connects, and you can see dazai’s face flickering to life on the screen, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

“well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls as his eyes sweep over you, taking in every detail—the way your body trembles under chuuya’s hold, your legs spread wide, a blissed out expression settling on your face.

“just shut up and watch, will ya?”

chuuya’s grip tightens around you, pulling your back flush against his chest as he bounces harder into your slick folds, your body jerking upward with each thrust. his breath hitches against your neck, but all you can focus on is the way dazai’s hand moves to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down slowly. your eyes widen as he frees himself, his long, hard cock in hand, already stroking himself at a teasingly slow pace.

the sight of your boss pleasuring himself elicits a shocked gasp from you, your mind clouding with lust. you don’t even realise you’ve moaned his name until it’s too late, the sound escaping your lips in a breathless whimper. “mmngh... ‘samu.”

chuuya freezes for a second, jealousy flashing in his eyes, as he gently slaps your boobs making you hiss and tears pool in the corners of your eyes. his thrusts becoming rougher, more possessive as he growls in your ear, “don’t ya dare forget who’s fuckin’ ya right now.”

but dazai only smirks as he strokes himself faster, “looks like your girl is too distracted by my cock to scream my name forgetting who's really fucking her from behind, hmm?”

your body shudders with each powerful thrust from chuuya, but your gaze stays locked on the screen, mesmerized by the sight of dazai’s hand pumping his cock.

“mngh.. are you jealous, chuuya?” dazai’s grin widens as he watches your body arch under chuuya’s relentless pace. “or are you just mad she’s thinking of me while you’re the one fucking her?”

chuuya growls low in his throat, his thrusts becoming animalistic, hips snapping against you as he hisses, “she’ll only be screaming my name by the time i’m done with her.” his grip on you tightens, one hand moving to squeeze your breasts while the other holds you firmly in place, leaving you no room to escape.

“look at me, sweetheart.” dazai drawls, his hand moving leisurely up and down his cock, making sure you don’t miss a single detail. “imagine how good you’d feel if you were riding my cock instead,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours. “wouldn’t it feel so much better than being stuck on chuuya’s cock, hm?”

chuuya notices your wavering focus, his hand moves from your waist to your throat, gently pulling your head back until your lips are close to his ear. his voice drops to a raspy whisper, “hey, baby... stay with me,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your neck between words. “focus on me, yeah? i’m the one inside you, making you feel this good ahh fu-hk—you love how I’m filling you up? no one else could make you feel like this.”

“yess...nghh yes chuu..please—ahh-” you gasp, breath catching as he pounds into you harder, pushing you closer to your sweet release.

“that's right...mngh fuckk!—keep moaning my name.” his muffled groans vibrate against your neck as he presses his face into the crook, each powerful thrust pulling gasps from your lips. you cling to him, wrapping your arm around his neck to draw him closer.

but as you're close to cum on chuuya’s cock too exhausted from all the edging, dazai’s voice cuts through the haze, “come on, sweetheart... look at me.” his tone is sultry, authoritative even, as if he knows just how much control he has over you in this moment. “yes just like that, good girl.. keep your eyes on me. let’s see whose name you’re gonna scream when you cum...”

the way dazai says good girl sends a shiver down to your core, making you whimper incoherent curses. his hand pumps his cock faster, teasing you, the sight, so delicious that your focus wavers again. you can feel chuuya’s frustration as his grip on you tightens, yet he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear, trying to pull your attention back to him.

“you belong to me, doll” chuuya drawls softly, his thrusts becoming even more intense, as if to drive dazai from your mind. “i’m the one making you feel this good—ungh... look at you clenching around me...ffuhm-k you love how i fuck you s’good, hmm?”

each agonizing thrust pushes you closer to the brink, body trembling as you fight the overwhelming pleasure building inside your belly. your mind is split between chuuya’s rough, punishing pace and the sight of dazai’s delicious cock coated with pre-cum on the screen, each stroke making your pulse race.

and just as you glance down, you catch the sight of chuuya’s cock plunging deep inside you, slick with your combined juices and his precum. the sight sends a fresh wave of pleasure that makes your pudendal nerve tingle, pushing you further toward your release. your breath hitches as you feel the tightening coil in your core finally reach its breaking point with how chuuya’s tip is knocking so perfectly against your g-spot.

“chuu... i’m—ahh!” the words escape your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes over you, leaving you breathless. your body quakes with the intensity of your orgasm, waves of ecstasy radiating through every inch of you, the world around you fading into blissful oblivion.

chuuya completely loses it once he hears you crying out his name. he immediately follows suit, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his own high, filling you completely. the dual sensations of your highs intertwine, leaving you both gasping for air.

as for dazai, he watches intently through the lens, captivated by the bounce of your breasts with every thrust, your luscious pink lips parted, the intoxicating image of your pleasure, with chuuya’s cock vanishing deep into your swollen slick folds, drives him wild. even though you're screaming chuuya's name instead, dazai pays no mind, completely drunk on your blissed-out flushed form.

“fuckk so pretty ahh—look at you,” he breathes, quickening his strokes as he takes in the sight of your body trembling in bliss. the combination of you and chuuya reaching that sweet release together, along with your desperate moans, makes him erupt, hot jets of cum spilling all over his hand and abdomen as he rides the delicious wave of his orgasm witnessesing the exquisite sight of you.

chuuya pulls out from your now-ruined cunt still holding your trembling body close to his chest, his grip is more possessive, as if staking his claim, but also tender enough to make you feel safe in his embrace.

with one hand, he leans down and taps the screen, ready to end the video call. however, just before the screen goes black, chuuya shoots dazai a heated glance, lips curling into a smug smirk.

“i won this round, asshole” he mutters, “you'll have to try a lot harder next time. she's my doll.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune

[smutallyouwant]

Twice Fic World chp. 5

Big Work

Word Count: 2k words

Sana and Mina x Reader

90% smut

You could've sworn that you know this woman in front of you, but you can't remember from where.

It's another day from work, but you just have to submit some papers you've done yesterday to the office. Mina as usual pulls some seduction touches to you and you two chitchats often inside the office. Whenever no one's looking, the two of you just start kissing and making out for a few seconds. This is just to shave off some tensions between the two of you and this always happens at the office. If there's an opportunity the two of you would fuck and get back to work immediately after busting. Mina basically is your ' work wife '

Jihyo is still out of town, but she orders you to submit the papers at the office. You and Mina were left inside your office block, Mina took the opportunity to suck your dick under your desk while you make minute revisions of the papers you will submit. You could feel your dick passing through her throat and out to be licked by her precious tongue.

Mina smiled and looked at you.

" Just stay for a while Y/N, let me suck you off first before everyone get back "

" Okay baby, suck me off good " you answered.

Mina's head game is so good as she's already well trained by your dick. She knows how you like the pace and she learned how to use her tongue and throat to pleasure your dick. You pressed the print button and then grabbed her shoulders while she gives you the best office blowjob.

" Yes Mina, you're the best at sucking dicks "

" mhhh mhhh " she answered with a moan.

She suddenly does her best fellatio in a semi fast pace her tongue roams around your shaft every pump she makes. This made you reach climax fast, you pushed her head to your dick as you pumped your cum into her throat.

" Yes Mina, take all this cum into your tummy "

She took it all while keeping eye contact. After that amazing blowjob, you made out again for a couple minutes before your colleagues came back. Mina wore her coat again and came back to her block.

You now collected all the paperwork and compiled them into a folder. You went to the office and as you opened the door.

You saw a beautiful girl wearing only a white bra and a pink skirt.

" Oh I'm so sorry miss " as you hurriedly close the door.

But before you could close it you were stopped by her.

" Stop, it's alright come inside " she said

" This beautiful girl, I swear I know her. But I don't know from where? " You said inside your mind.

" Sit here " she pointed at the chair.

Turns out she is the acting president for the absence of Jihyo.

" So you're Y/N, Jihyo told me about you "

" You're the one who fucks a coworker, and I won't be surprised if Jihyo fucked you as well" she blatantly said.

You're so shocked to see what she said. And you remained silent. She sat on the table In front of you.

" I saw you, having your best blowjob at your desk. I could say that Mina was well trained to suck your dick "

" What if I'm Jihyo, and you saw me wearing this here at the office while we're just the only people here? " She added.

" Uhm, then I would want to have a taste of you " you answered.

" No I'm not asking you, I'm telling you to do it " she responded.

In a lustful sight, you grabbed her waist and kissed her neck and shoulders. She responded with slight moans and she wrapped her arms to your head.

" mmmmhh, that's more like it " she said.

She palmed your head and started sucking your tongue. The two of you battled for dominance with the sloppy kiss. This girl has a sweet scent and her lips and tongue taste like it as well.

" How was it, do I taste delicious? " She said.

" Yes boss, you're fucking delicious "

" Call me Sana, Y/N " she said before reaching to her desk and to the laptop.

" Wait a minute Y/N, alright done "

" Let me see that cock Y/N " she said.

You unbuckled your belt and pulled down your pants to show your rock hard shaft.

" Not bad " she whispered.

Sana carefully touched your dick and began giving you a hand job, all while you're caressing her chest and kissing her shoulders. After a few seconds the door opened.

" Oh here's our guest " Sana said.

You saw Mina at the door with her hands in her mouth. You're shocked too so you're frozen there as Sana touches your dick.

" It's okay Mina, lock the door and come here " Sana said.

Mina obliged and came closer as she stared at you and your hard dick.

" Come' ere baby " Sana said before pulling Mina to a kiss.

Mina was shocked but soon gave in to the temptation. The two began making out. Sana' s grip tightened as Mina began caressing Sana' s chest, and their takeout session became wild. The sight you're seeing is so erotic, your lips magnetized to Sana' s neck you kissed her neck as you fondled her other boob. You and Mina took turns in kissing her neck and making out with Sana. Sana' s hands were caressing both of your heads. It's like you and Mina are worshipping Sana. Mina took off Sana' s bra and started licking her boobs. Sana then helped Mina undress her top revealing Mina's perky tits too. As the two girls make out taking turns sucking each other's boobs, you take off Sana' s panty and insert two fingers.

" Mhhh, aahh! "

Sana started moaning as you finger her while sucking on her shoulders. Mina plays Sana' s boobs as you finger her aggressively.

" Ughh yess keep that up, uggh "

Sana moaned begging for more.

" YESS YESS, I'm cumming I'm cumming "

Sana spreads her legs as she squirted. Sana released a sigh of release, as soon as Sana came you pulled Mina beside the table and started banging her at the back. Mina leaned on the table showing her wonderful curve as she looked at you from behind as you thrust your dick inside her pussy. Sana looks at you and Mina seductively. You pulled Mina's hair and adjusted your position. You aligned Mina's face to Sana' s pussy.

" Hey Mina, our boss' pussy wants some attention too " you said.

You never saw Mina eat some pussy that's why you're dumbfounded as Mina buried her mouth into Sana' s pussy.

" Mmhhhh, ahhh good girl " Sana said while pampering Mina's face.

Mina was holding both Sana' s thighs and she inserted her tongue into her pussy causing Sana to bend backwards.

" Aahhhh! Yes keep that up good girl "

You're astonished to the sight , as Mina passionately made out with Sana' s pussy.

You leaned towards Mina.

" Mina I'm cumming inside you"

Mina held your head and said...

" Yes baby cum inside me " before licking and sucking Sana' s clitoris again.

" ughhh, ughh, ugh " you moaned while pumping your seeds inside Mina.

"mmmmhh, ,mhhh " Mina's moan was muffled by Sana' s pussy.

You sat on the chair watching Mina continuing her job.

" Ughh babyy I'm cumming too! " Sana shouted

Mina used her fingers to rapidly pluck Sana's clitoris. Sana squirted again.

Sana laid down on the table as she came twice on that. Mina looked on to you and came close to you.

" The Y/N I know does not get tired after cumming once " Mina taunted.

You smiled as she aligned her pussy to your shaft and rode you while facing each other.

" Ugh your cum makes a perfect lubricant " she said.

" Since when did you start screwing with the CEO? " She added.

You stated the story of how you saw her in her bra and started teasing you, and how Sana called her to the office to see what she was doing to you.

" Maybe she was turned on while seeing me suck your cock at the office " she said while giggling.

You and Mina made fun about the situation casually while fucking, with some moans and kisses on the neck and shoulders frequently.

" I never saw you that horny Mina, your pussy eating was so good to watch "

" Well Chaeyoung and I used to eat each other's pussy for like everyday" you both laughed after she said that.

" And I became that horny because our CEO was so beautiful" she added.

" I'm cumming, Mina "

" YESS baby, cum into my pussy again "

You buried your dick deep inside her pussy as you came inside. Mina trembled as she came at the same time and buried her face on your shoulders. As Mina lifts her face after her climax, Sana lingers behind her and hugs her neck.

Mina looked at Sana, their faces were a centimeter apart from each other.

" So you find me beautiful, Mina? " Sana whispered.

Mina nodded. Sana put a finger on Mina's lips and said...

" Call me Sana, or baby if you want " before planting her tongue inside Mina's mouth.

The two began making out aggressively again. You took the opportunity to shove Mina's boobs into your mouth. But Sana pulled Mina making your dick produce a ' pop' sound as your dick was removed into Mina's hole. Sana opened a door at the back that revealed a nice room with a beautiful king-size bed. Sana removed all her clothes and Mina as well. You close the door behind you as Sana spreads Mina's legs and eats her pussy.

" Let me taste Y/N cum too, you tasted it earlier aren't you Mina? " Sana said.

" Yes baby, try it, it's delicious" Mina replied.

Sana bends her waist revealing her buttocks, she signals you to come over and uses two of her fingers to spread her pussy from behind. You took the hint and started ramming her from behind that caused her to squeal.

" Aahhhh! Mhhhh " she moaned

She quickly muffled her moans to Mina's pussy. Mina was holding onto Sana's hair hardly while she used her other arm to play with her own tits. You started hitting Sana's plump butt, each hit causes her to squeal into Mina's pussy. As you ram her from behind as hard as you can Sana began moaning so loud ignoring the pussy in front of her.

" aghhh! Aghh! Agahhhh! Aghh! "

Mina pulled Sana over to make out with her in order to silence her.

" I'm cumming Sana "

You said no more words and came inside Sana. Sana trembled as you see your cum overflowing from her pussy. The three of you laid on the bed with both women laying on your shoulders. You took a quick nap just to wake up having a blowjob from sana while Mina licks and sucks your nipples .

" Hi Y/N, Sana said she wants to taste your dick " Mina said.

You can feel how smoothly your long cock passes through Sana's throat and her tongue action is on point too. This causes you to cum so fast into her throat. Sana ordered you to fuck her again, her reason is that you fucked Mina twice so she should have it twice too. You fucked Sana missionary style as Mina takes a video of you fucking your company's CEO. She also showed how she sucked Sana's tits and made out with her. After that crazy event. The three of you got back to work after taking a shower together at the office shower.

Tomorrow came and Sana called both of you again to have some ' Fun Time ' as it is Sana's last day, Jihyo is coming back tomorrow. You ended up fucking both the girls the whole day and Mina filmed almost all of it into her precious camera.

" Thank you for reading " - Said the author.

[crimsonbubble]

Hear me out… san tied up completely helpless 🤭🤭 make that hard dom submit 🤭🤭

Helplessly Yours

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, overstimulation, viberator *not proofread, just pure horny

[i'm simply insane]

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto his authority but the way your pretty cunt wraps around his cock is making it hard.

San can’t do anything but sit helplessly against the headboard of your shared bed. His chest is heaving with every breath and his abdomen tenses every time you clench around him. “Baby, untie-!” There’s a pathetic growl laced in his voice.

You don’t do anything but pout at him, pressing the vibrator harder against your throbbing clit. San can feel the residual waves of the vibration accompanied by the sweet heat of your cunt squeezing around him. His eye flits between your dripping cunt and your face as it contorts in pure bliss.

San bucks his hips harshly, nearly whining when you pull off of him. His authority is wavering but he’s willing to forgo it if it means that he can get your sweet cunt back on him. You stare at San with a sinister smile, moving to sit on his thighs. You brought the vibrator back down, pressing it right against his leaking cock head.

San whimpered pathetically, rocking his hips against the small toy. You pressed the toys button twice, laughing at how San almost lurches off the bed. It was only fair to tease his sweet spots just like he does with you. The small toy was making his entire body throb with need, a pitiful cry leaking off his tongue.

Not even a full minute after you heightened the toy's settings and San lost control of himself. He squirmed under you as he came all over your hands. You continued to hold the toy there, grinning down at him as he caught onto your ploy. As you circled the toy around his tip, San let his authority slip away; letting himself drown in the pleasure you so graciously provided to him. He babbles nonsense, hiccuping with the increase of pleasure ringing in his ears.

“Fuck, baby please-” His hands tug at his restraints, rocking his hips uselessly against your hands. You hummed softly, pressing the head of the toy against his tip. You stroked him languidly, picking up the pace bit by bit. San thrashed, his hips jerking wildly. His vision went white as he closed his eyes, coating your hands in another layer of white.

[rvp32]

Whisper of uncontrollable desire. Part 2

My first time writing in a very long time so please show some mercy. Also, this entire story was written in 2 days after seeing the request. Please enjoy and as always any feedback is appreciated.

Giving out punishments was something Eunbi enjoyed immensely. The thrill of asserting control and seeing her obedient girls submit brought her a sense of satisfaction that was hard to match. Tonight, it was Chaewon’s turn. Being the good and obedient girl that she was, Chaewon willingly let herself be stripped and tied up without any resistance. She trusted Eunbi, even though she feared the severity of the impending punishment.

“Mommy, please don’t be too harsh on me. It slipped my mind because of all the activities we had,” Chaewon begged, her voice trembling. Her precious, wide pupu eyes looked up at Eunbi with a pleading expression, hoping to melt her stern demeanor. She knew Eunbi’s punishments could be intense—so intense that they had once led to the cancellation of schedules for two entire weeks after Sakura’s ordeal.

Eunbi’s gaze softened momentarily as she looked down at Chaewon, taking in the sight of her trembling form and tear-filled eyes. She could see the genuine remorse and fear in Chaewon’s expression. Yet, the power she held in moments like these was intoxicating, and she relished the thought of pushing her limits.

“Chaewon, you know I can’t go easy on you just because you’re my favorite,” Eunbi said, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of warmth. She stroked Chaewon’s cheek gently, the contrast of her touch and her words sending shivers down the younger girl’s spine. “You have to learn to be more careful.”

Tears began to well up in Chaewon’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mommy. I promise I’ll do better,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She knew that begging might not help, but she couldn’t help but try. The memory of Sakura’s punishment haunted her, and she dreaded enduring something similar.

Eunbi smiled softly, enjoying the mix of fear and anticipation in Chaewon’s eyes. “We’ll see about that, my dear,” she said, her tone a mix of teasing and seriousness. She reached for her tools, each movement deliberate and unhurried, savoring the growing tension.

Chaewon’s heart raced as she watched Eunbi prepare, her mind filled with a chaotic blend of fear, anticipation, and trust. She knew that despite the harshness of the punishment, Eunbi cared deeply for her. That thought was her only solace as she braced herself for what was to come.

“Now, let’s begin,” Eunbi whispered, leaning close to Chaewon’s ear, her breath warm against her skin. “Remember, this is for your own good.”

Chaewon looked to you, “Daddy, Please ask Mommy to show some mercy. I will never forget to take my suppressants again!”

Being the alpha meant that you also had to supervise all the punishments a duty that you didn’t particularly enjoy every time it happened but knew it was necessary. “I am sorry princess but rules are rules.”

And with that last plea, the room was filled with a mix of soft whimpers because of the tool present in Eunbi’s hand, it was a clit focused vibrator, a really strong vibrator that Chaewon loved to use when she got horny but one issue was that this vibrator is too strong. 

Not caring for Chaewon’s whimpers, with the press of a button the toy comes to life. Eunbi places it on the Chaewon’s sensitive bud causing a loud scream. “Mommy!”

Eunbi’s face had a smirk, one so evil that it sent shivers down Chaewon’s spine. Eunbi’s sadistic needs were clearly being satisfied with all the screaming and begging Chaewon was doing. As the punishment intensified, Chaewon’s cries echoed through the room, each one a mix of pain, regret, and a twisted sense of devotion.

“Mommy, please! I’m sorry, I really am!” Chaewon’s voice cracked as she pleaded, her body straining against the restraints. Every word was soaked in desperation, her fear palpable.

Eunbi’s smirk only widened. “I know you are, sweetie,” she said, her tone condescending and cold. “But you have to understand the consequences of your actions.” Her hands moved with calculated precision, each motion deliberate and unyielding.

Chaewon’s body trembled as the pain and pleasure surged through her. Despite the agony, a part of her clung to the belief that this was all for her own good. She trusted Eunbi completely, even in this moment of torment.

“Do you remember why you’re being punished, Chaewon?” Eunbi’s voice was calm, almost soothing, a stark contrast to the intensity of her actions.

“Yes, Mommy,” Chaewon whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I-I wasn’t careful enough… I forgot my suppressants… I’m so sorry…”

“That’s right,” Eunbi said, her hand pausing for a moment as she cupped Chaewon’s cheek gently. “You need to be more responsible. We can’t afford mistakes, can we?”

“N-no, Mommy,” Chaewon stammered, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Eunbi leaned in closer, her breath hot against Chaewon’s ear. “Good girl,” she whispered, her voice sending a chill down Chaewon’s spine. “But promises aren’t enough. You have to prove it.”

The room was filled with the sound of Chaewon’s sobs and Eunbi’s steady, commanding presence. Each whimper and cry only seemed to fuel Eunbi’s sadistic pleasure, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As the minutes ticked by, the punishment continued relentlessly. Chaewon’s body was pushed to its limits, her mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion and pain. Yet, through it all, she clung to the belief that this was for her own good, that Eunbi’s harshness was a twisted form of care.

The room was filled with the smell of sex and the floor coated with Chaewon’s overstimulated pussy juice. The whimpers now turned into screams begging for mercy with incoherent words and sentences. 

“Are you learning your lesson, Chaewon?” Eunbi asked, her voice softening just enough to offer a sliver of comfort.

“Yes, Mommy,” Chaewon gasped, her voice hoarse from screaming. “I-I’ll be better… I’ll do anything to make you proud…”

Eunbi’s expression softened slightly, a hint of warmth breaking through her stern facade. “I know you will, my dear,” she said, her hand stroking Chaewon’s hair gently. “This is all for you, remember that.”

“I-I will, Mommy,” Chaewon whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll remember…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eunbi’s harsh ministrations began to slow. She took a step back, her eyes still fixed on Chaewon’s trembling form. The room was thick with the aftermath of the intense punishment, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and tears.

Eunbi untied Chaewon gently, her touch surprisingly tender now. “You did well, Chaewon,” she said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I’m proud of you for enduring this.”

Walking up to Chaewon you embraced her after Eunbi let go. Chaewon clung to you, her body weak and trembling. Despite the pain and pleasure, a sense of relief washed over you. She had endured the punishment, and in some twisted way, it made you want to fuck her and completely break her mind such that it only ever listens to you.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Chaewon whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ll do better… I promise…”

You smiled a genuine warmth in her eyes now. “I know you will, my dear,” you said, holding Chaewon close. “I believe in you.”

Chaewon was exhausted and desperately needed rest, so you took her to your room and gently helped her into a warm bath. The soothing water and your tender care slowly washed away the physical and emotional strain from the punishment. Chaewon’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, feeling safe and cherished despite the earlier ordeal.

After the bath, you dried Chaewon off with a soft towel and dressed her in comfortable pajamas. You guided her to the bed, pulling the covers over her and ensuring she was snug and warm. As you turned to leave, intending to give Chaewon the rest she desperately needed, you felt a gentle tug on your hand.

“Daddy, please stay,” Chaewon whispered, her voice barely audible and filled with a childlike plea. Her eyes, though heavy with sleep, held a deep yearning for comfort and security.

Your heart melted at the sight of Chaewon's vulnerability. You couldn't bring yourself to leave. With a soft smile, you sat beside her on the bed, your fingers gently running through her silky hair. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you both, the tension of the night slowly dissolving into a peaceful calm.

Chaewon’s breathing steadied as she fell into a deep sleep, her face relaxing into an expression of tranquility. You continued to stroke her hair, watching over her with a protective gaze. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of your breathing, a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of earlier.

You felt your own eyelids grow heavy as you continued to watch over Chaewon. The exhaustion of the night caught up with you, and soon you found yourself lying down beside her, your hand still gently tangled in her hair.

******

Since Lesserafim was taking a break now, the girls had a lot of free time, and you also decided to work from home. After Chaewon’s punishment and her subsequent heat, she had become excessively clingy to you. Not that you minded; she was so cute and always made it fun to be around her. Her presence, even in her clinginess, brought a lightness to your days that you cherished.

As you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the work in front of you, Chaewon was perched comfortably on your lap, her attention divided between her phone and you. Every so often, she would look up at you with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with affection. Her closeness was a constant, warm reminder of the bond you shared.

What you failed to notice was the jealous gaze cast toward you from across the room. Sakura, who had been watching the two of you for a while, couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She remembered her own time in your arms, the comfort and attention you had lavished on her, and now she felt a sense of longing for that same affection.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Chaewon snuggling closer to you, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she showed you something on her phone. The sight stirred something deep within Sakura, a mix of jealousy and a yearning for the same intimacy.

You were blissfully unaware of Sakura’s growing discontent. You chuckled at something Chaewon had shown you, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as she shifted on your lap. Chaewon’s presence was calming, and her happiness was contagious.

Sakura's plan to forego her suppressants had seemed foolproof in her mind. She was certain that without the medication dulling her heat, your attention would naturally gravitate towards her. But as the day of her heat arrived, her anticipation turned to disappointment when she realized you were absent.

With each passing hour, Sakura's discomfort grew more pronounced. The familiar ache of her heat intensified, and she found herself writhing in pain, desperate for relief. She needed you desperately, but you were nowhere to be found.

In a haze of agony, Sakura stumbled to your room, her mind clouded with the need for your presence. She rummaged through your belongings, searching desperately for anything that might bring her solace. Finally, she found a circle of your used clothes and clutched the one you had worn most recently to her nose, seeking the faint trace of your scent.

As the familiar fragrance enveloped her, Sakura felt a momentary reprieve from the torment of her heat. Your scent, though distant, offered a semblance of comfort, easing the ache in her body and calming her racing heart.

In the solitude of your room, surrounded by reminders of your presence, Sakura found a fleeting sense of peace amidst the turmoil of her heat. But deep down, she longed for more than just the memory of you. She yearned for your touch, your warmth, and your soothing words to chase away the agony and loneliness that threatened to consume her.

However, that peace didn't last long as Sakura's heat intensified, and her body began to release a potent scent designed to attract any alpha nearby to satisfy her. The air grew thick with her pheromones, her scent a desperate call for relief.

Luckily for Sakura, there was an alpha currently in the manor, but this alpha happened to be none other than Kazuha. Kazuha was known for her calm and gentle demeanor, often mistaken for a beta due to her docility and non-aggressive nature. Despite her alpha status, she rarely displayed the dominant traits typically associated with it.

As Kazuha moved through the halls, the scent hit her with unexpected intensity. Her senses sharpened, and her normally placid nature was momentarily overridden by the primal urge to respond to the call of a distressed omega. Following the scent, she found herself drawn to your room, where Sakura lay surrounded by your clothes, her body wracked with the torment of her heat.

Kazuha entered the room cautiously, her eyes widening at the sight of Sakura. "Unnie," she called softly, her voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay?"

Sakura's head snapped up, her eyes glazed with desperation. "K-Kazuha," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Please... I need help."

Kazuha hesitated for a moment, her usual calm exterior faltering as the scent overwhelmed her senses. She stepped closer, her instincts urging her to provide the relief Sakura so desperately needed.

"Unnie, I... I'm here to help," Kazuha said gently, kneeling beside her. "What do you need?"

Sakura's hands clutched at Kazuha's shirt, pulling her closer. "I need you," she pleaded, her voice barely more than a breathless whisper. "Please, Kazuha, I can't take it anymore."

Kazuha's heart pounded in her chest, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She knew she had to act, to provide the comfort and relief Sakura was so desperately seeking. Leaning in, she brushed a strand of hair away from Sakura's face, her touch tender and reassuring.

"Okay, Sakura," Kazuha whispered, her voice filled with determination. "I'll take care of you."

With gentle care, Kazuha wrapped her arms around Sakura, pulling her close. Her presence, though different from yours, offered a new kind of solace. The room filled with a mix of their scents, Kazuha's alpha pheromones blending with Sakura's desperate omega call, but this wasn’t enough for Sakura, she needed something more intense.

“Kazuha, it’s so hot down there please do something!” Sakura pleaded. Kazuha being the innocent alpha that she is didn’t know what to do but the overpowering pheromones were clouding Kazuha’s ability to think. 

“O-okay, unnie,” Kazuha said before gently pulling down Sakura's shorts to reveal a pair of completely drenched panties. It was a sight that Kazuha was shocked by but also desperately wanted a taste. 

“Fast, please it hurts,” Sakura whined, not wasting any more time, Kazuha dived into the the awaiting cave. The touch of her tongue caused a massive relief for Sakura. 

“Nghh, it feels so good,” Sakura moaned, as her fingers got tangled in Kazuha’s hair. The continuous ministrations of Kazuha were increasing the pleasure Sakura felt. 

Though it was the first time that Kazuha had ever been intimate with a woman, she was doing an amazing job, most probably because of strong Pheremones that were controlling her. Sakura tastes so sweet almost like a drug, addictive and Kazuha was enjoying every single second of this drug. 

“Keep going baby, you are eating Unnie so well.” Sakura moaned as her back arched signalling the impending orgasm. “F-fuckkkkk!” Sakura screamed as she came all over Kazuha’s face, being the good girl that she is Kazuha licked up every single drop. 

This was not enough to satisfy Sakura and to make the situation more interesting Kazuha had a hard-on. “Baby, please take off those pants and come fuck unnie,” Sakura said while staring into Kazuha’s eyes. 

Kazuha however was nervous and scared. It was not only because it was her first time but also because Kazuha was very insecure about her cock and didn’t want anyone to see it. 

Fear and anxiety were written all over Kazuha's face. She didn't want to get teased or judged for stepping into a role she rarely embraced, so she instinctively began to move away from Sakura. However, Sakura's desperation overshadowed any sense of decorum or restraint. Her mind was clouded with the overwhelming need to satiate the immense heat building up in her body.

As Kazuha tried to back away, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself pressed against the wall, trapped by the intensity of the situation. Sakura, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and yearning, crawled toward Kazuha with a single-minded determination.

"K-Kazuha," Sakura's voice trembled, thick with need. "Please... I can't take it anymore."

Kazuha's breath hitched as Sakura closed the distance between them. Despite her fears, she couldn't ignore the primal pull of Sakura's distress. She hesitated, her body tense, but the sight of Sakura's pleading eyes and the raw desperation in her voice stirred something deep within her.

"Unnie, I..." Kazuha stammered, her voice faltering. She wanted to help, but the fear of what this moment represented held her back.

Sakura reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched Kazuha's arm. "Please, Kazuha. I need you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Unnie I will do anything but that, please,” Kazuha begged. But Sakura was not interested in listening. Sakura pulls down Kazuha’s pants along with her underwear to find Kazuha’s cock in all its glory.

Sakura was surprised. What she was currently faced with was different from what she was expecting. Kazuha was not packing a huge cock like she expected in fact it was probably one of the smallest that Sakura had ever seen, this also explains why Kazuha is such a docile alpha. But lucky for Kazuha, Sakura couldn’t care about the fact that her dick was only 4 inches because she desperately needed something inside of her and for now Kazuha’s cock should be enough. 

Without any words being said, Sakura pushes Kazuha onto the floor and mounts her. Shocked by the sudden action Kazuha lets out a small yelp, she still tries to get Sakura off her because she doesn’t know what to do but Sakura overpowers her and she got she wants. Sakura starts to ride Kazuha like there is no tomorrow and this makes Kazuha’s life very hard. She is holding on for dear life, trying her best not to cum inside Sakura and breed her. 

“Unnie, please get off!! I am going to cum!!” Kazuha screams, but it is to no avail as Sakura continues to bounce on Kazuha’s tiny cock. No matter how much strength Kazuha uses she is unable to push Sakura away from her before she cums. 

All of a sudden a savior appears. You manage to pull Sakura off Kazuha just before it’s too late. Sakura whines at the loss of body contact and pleasure but you hold her down and turn to Kazuha to notice that you may have just ruined her orgasm. 

Kazuha notices you staring and immediately covers herself with her hands. “Kazuha baby, you should leave before this wild one gets to you again,” Heeding your warning Kazuha grabs her clothes and runs out of the room. 

After the room is empty with just you and Sakura, you turn your attention to the girl who has begun to rub herself on your leg. But a stern look from you makes her stop all her movements. "Princess, how is it that you forgot to take your suppressants?" you question Sakura.

Too shy to tell you the actual reason, Sakura stays silent and hides herself behind your leg, her face flushing with embarrassment. You gently lift her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Princess, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I know how much pain you are going through and I will take away all that pain if you be honest with me here," you say, trying to convince her to answer.

Sakura's eyes flicker with uncertainty, her breath coming in short, quick gasps as she struggles with her confession. Finally, she mumbles, "Y-you."

"Princess, you have to be more clear," you say, with a touch of sternness in your voice to encourage her.

Sakura's face turns a deeper shade of red, and she averts her gaze, whispering, "I wanted your attention. I thought... if I didn't take my suppressants, you would spend more time with me."

Her confession hangs in the air, her vulnerability laid bare before you. Your stern expression softens as you take in her words, understanding the depth of her need for your affection.

"Oh, Sakura," you say, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "You don’t have to put yourself through such pain just to get my attention. I'm always here for you."

She clings to you, relief mingling with her lingering discomfort. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice muffled against your chest.

You stroke her hair soothingly. "It's okay, Princess. Let's focus on making you feel better now. But promise me, next time, you'll talk to me instead of putting yourself through this, alright?"

Sakura nods, her arms tightening around you. "I promise," she murmurs.

"Good girl," you say softly, kissing the top of her head. "Now, let's take care of you."

Sakura nods her head and hugs you tightly. You pat her head, playing with her hair but soon the wholesome moment comes to an end as Sakura starts to grind on you.

“Princess, look at me,” you say, gentleness in your voice. Sakura looks at you, her eyes filled with expectation and need. Both of you maintain eye contact for a few seconds, the air between you thick with anticipation. Slowly, you lean toward each other, and finally, your lips meet in a kiss filled with passion and care.

Sakura's lips are soft and warm against yours, and she melts into the kiss, her desperation and longing pouring into the embrace. The kiss deepens, your arms wrapping around her to pull her closer. Sakura's need to be closer to you becomes overwhelming, and she jumps onto you, wrapping her legs around your torso. You support her effortlessly, one hand on her back and the other cradling her head.

The intensity of the kiss grows as you hold her, each of you savoring the connection and the relief it brings. Sakura's fingers tangle in your hair, her body pressed tightly against yours. The heat of the moment seems to erase all the pain and anxiety she felt earlier, replaced by the comforting and exhilarating presence of you.

You move to sit on the edge of the bed, Sakura still clinging to you. The kiss breaks for a moment, both of you breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other. "I've needed this," Sakura whispers, her voice filled with emotion. "I've needed you."

You gently stroke her hair, your eyes soft with affection. "I'm here, Princess. Always."

This time, the kiss is slower, more tender, as you take the time to explore each other's emotions through the connection. You can feel the gratitude and love radiating from Sakura, her body relaxing into yours as the last remnants of her heat begin to subside.

You hold her close, savoring the intimacy and the bond you share. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth and affection. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing and the soft rustle of clothing as you hold each other. 

After breaking the kiss, Sakura leans in and places soft kisses on your neck, her breath warm against your skin. Each kiss sends shivers down your spine, and you feel her growing boldness as those kisses slowly turn into gentle bites. You can sense her need to express her desire and the remnants of her heat driving her actions.

Wanting to keep your promise, you let her do whatever she wants. Your hands rest on her back, providing a comforting presence as she explores her feelings and desires through her actions.

"Sakura," you murmur, your voice soothing and filled with affection. "It's okay. I'm here for you."

Encouraged by your words, Sakura continues, her bites growing a bit more assertive, leaving small marks on your skin. Each bite is followed by a tender kiss, a mixture of passion and tenderness that reflects her complex emotions. You can feel her anxiety and need for reassurance in every touch, every kiss, and every bite.

As she nips at your neck, you hold her closer, your hands gently stroking her back to provide a sense of security. Her breaths come in short, quick gasps, her body pressed tightly against yours. You can feel her heart pounding, matching the rhythm of your own.

"Sakura," you whisper, lifting her chin so she looks into your eyes. "You don't have to hold back. Just be yourself."

Her eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, meet yours. She nods slightly, her lips parting as she takes a deep breath. "I need you," she confesses, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I need to feel close to you."

You smile gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I'm not going anywhere," you assure her. "You can have all of me."

Sakura's eyes soften with gratitude, and she leans in to kiss you again, this time with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The bites on your neck become more deliberate, a way for her to mark her territory and express her deep-seated need for connection.

You feel the intensity of her emotions and respond with equal tenderness, holding her close and allowing her to take what she needs from you. The room is filled with the quiet sounds of your breathing, the soft rustle of clothing, and the occasional sigh of contentment as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Slowly, you begin to take off what little clothes Sakura has left, your movements careful and tender. She helps you out of yours, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation and excitement. As each piece of clothing falls away, the intimacy between you deepens, a silent communication of trust and affection.

With a gentle nudge, you both move toward the bed. The soft sheets feel cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of your body. Pulling away from the kiss, you hear a small whine escape Sakura's lips, her eyes fluttering open with a mix of longing and frustration.

But before she can voice her complaint, you place her gently on the bed, and another deep, passionate kiss quickly muffles her whines. Your lips meld together, the urgency of the moment heightening the connection between you. Sakura's hands grip your shoulders, pulling you closer as if afraid you might disappear.

You respond by deepening the kiss, pouring all your affection and reassurance into the embrace. Your hands roam her body, tracing delicate patterns along her skin, eliciting soft gasps and shivers from Sakura. She arches into your touch, her body responding instinctively to every caress.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you look into her eyes, your voice soft and filled with love. "Princess, you're everything to me."

Sakura's eyes shine with emotion, her hands cupping your face. "Daddy you can do anything you want," she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I just need you."

You place your hard member on her entrance teasing it a little before lubing it up with all the wetness from Sakura’s drenched pussy. “Daddy please don’t tease!” Sakura whined. 

Not wanting to keep her waiting longer, you slowly insert your cock into her tight pussy. Sakura occasionally let out moans as you pushed into her. Once you bottomed out you were still letting her adjust and also enjoying how tight her pussy was. 

“Daddy you can move now,” Sakura said. The missionary position lets you control your pace well and also hit spots that have never been touched. 

“Harder, Daddy, pleasee,” Sakura begged and you obliged increasing your pace and the strength of your thrusts. 

“Nghhh you are filling me up so well, Daddy,” Sakura moaned 

“Fuck, Princess, you are doing such a good job taking my dick. Your pussy is so tight and perfect.” You compliment Sakura causing her pussy to tighten a little. 

Increasing your pace, you ask “Who does this Pussy belong to princess?” 

Sakura was in a realm of her own, her mind completely filled with pleasure and unable to comprehend anything you were saying. So you stop 

“No no no, Daddy why did you stop!!” Sakura screams.

“Answer me, princess, Who thrusts Does thrusts This thrusts Pussy thrusts Belongs to thrusts?” You ask

“You! Daddy, this pussy belongs to only you!!!” Sakura screams as your thrusts get harsher. The tightness pushes you closer to the edge. 

“Princess, Daddy is going to cum soon and you are going to lick up every single drop of it right?” You asked as you continued to fuck the living crap out of Sakura. 

“Yes, Daddy. I will make sure not to waste a single drop of it.” Sakura replied. Her movements are in complete sync with yours. Both of you were chasing the peaks of your orgasm. 

“I’m cumming princess,” you announce and try to pull out of her pussy but are unable to do so because Sakura has managed to wrap her legs around you.

“Cum for me Daddy, breed me, let me have your children, please. I need them so fucking badly!!” Sakura screamed as her legs gripped tighter around your body.

Unable to hold on much longer you end up cumming inside of Sakura. “Fuck!!” You moan as you release all your cum deep inside of Sakura’s pussy.

“What the fuck Sakura, you are going to get pregnant!” you said. 

“Yes, Daddy, maybe then you will pay more attention to me than the other girls!” Sakura replied with a smirk on her face.

Not wanting to argue further, exhaustion took over both of you, and you soon fell into a deep sleep. The warmth of the moment and the emotional intensity had drained you completely.

Hours later, you were awakened by a sudden weight being placed on your chest. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you looked down to see none other than Wonyoung sitting on you, her expression a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

This was probably the worst situation in which you could get caught by Wonyoung, who was extremely possessive. The fact that your neck was covered with marks and Sakura was sleeping next to you was going to be the death of you. Wonyoung's eyes darted from the marks on your neck to Sakura, her jaw tightening with barely contained anger.

“What the hell is this?” Wonyoung’s voice was sharp, her tone dripping with jealousy and hurt.

You could feel the tension rising, and you knew you had to tread carefully. “Wonyoung, it’s not what it looks like,” you began, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Really?” she said, her tone icy. “Because it looks like you and Sakura had a lot of fun without me.”

Sakura stirred next to you, her eyes fluttering open. She immediately sensed the tension in the room and sat up, her smirk from earlier fading as she took in Wonyoung’s furious expression.

“Wonyoung, it’s not like that,” Sakura said softly, trying to defuse the situation. “I just... I needed Daddy last night. It was a tough day.”

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed, her possessive streak flaring up. “And you think you’re the only one who needs him? We all need him, Sakura. You can’t just monopolize him like this.”

You reached out to gently touch Wonyoung’s arm, hoping to calm her down. “Wonyoung, please. Let’s talk about this calmly.”

She pulled her arm away, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. “Calmly? How am I supposed to be calm when you’re covered in her marks?”

Sakura looked genuinely remorseful, and you could see that she regretted the way things had escalated. “Wonyoung, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

Wonyoung’s eyes softened slightly at Sakura’s apology, but she was still visibly upset. “It’s going to take a lot more than just a verbal apology from the both of you,” she said, a smirk plastered all over her face. This spelled nothing good for the future, but you had no choice but to listen because this brat doesn’t take no for an answer and is also way too cute for you to say no to.

You sighed inwardly, knowing that Wonyoung had the upper hand. “What do you want, Wonyoung?” you asked, trying to keep your tone calm and collected.

Wonyoung's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she replied, her voice sweet but with an edge of playful menace. “But first, I want both of you to admit that you were wrong and that you’ll make it up to me.”

Sakura shifted beside you, looking a bit nervous but also curious. “Alright, Wonyoung,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I’m sorry for making you feel left out. I promise to make it up to you.”

You nodded in agreement, meeting Wonyoung’s gaze. “I’m sorry too, Wonyoung. I didn’t mean to hurt you. We’ll both make it up to you, I promise.”

Wonyoung’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, though a hint of mischief still lingered in her eyes. “Good. Now, let’s start with something simple. I want you both to pamper me today. I get to be the center of attention, and you two will do whatever I say. Deal?”

Sakura and you exchanged a glance, both of you knowing that you had little choice in the matter. “Deal,” you said in unison.

Wonyoung clapped her hands together, her mood brightening. “Great! First, I want a nice breakfast in bed. And then, we’ll see what else I can come up with,” she said, her tone almost teasing.

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even though you knew she was taking full advantage of the situation. “Alright, breakfast in bed it is,” you said, getting up and pulling on some clothes.

Sakura followed suit, giving Wonyoung a small, playful glare. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Wonyoung giggled, the sound light and infectious. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But it’s only fair, right?”

You couldn’t argue with that, and as you made your way to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast, you felt a sense of relief that the immediate tension had been diffused. Wonyoung might be a handful, but her playful nature and the bond you all shared made every challenge worth it.

As the day went on, you and Sakura did your best to pamper Wonyoung, catering to her whims and making her feel special. There were plenty of playful moments and laughter, and by the end of the day, it felt like the balance had been restored among the three of you.

Wonyoung lay on the couch, a contented smile on her face as she looked at you and Sakura. “See? This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not at all, I was expecting a lot more work.” You replied.

“Because the worst part is yet to come. The both of you are going spend the entire night with me.” Wonyoung said as she took off her skirt. 

To be continued… 

[hxney-lemcn]

Best Friend — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you find Daisuke different job, dodging a bullet that would've taken his life.

tw: mentions of pony express again (ew)

a/n: this was not planned, and I'm not entirely motivated, but there's not many Daisuke fics so I'm kinda left only one option :/

wc: 1.1k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

“How about this one,” You asked, showing your screen to Daisuke. Electrician apprentice read at the top, the requirements listed below. “I know it isn’t the most exciting, but you’d make good money.”

Daisuke eyed it for a few seconds, “It’s basically what I’d be doing for Pony Express.” “Exactly,” You nodded eagerly. “Except you wouldn’t be floating in space, who knows where for…how long was it supposed to be again?” 

“Like…a year and some months,” He replied back, expression darkening slightly at the thought.

“Yeah, no way,” You grumbled, reading through the rest of the job listing. “Look, they’re open to no experience, it's perfect!” 

“You think they’ll actually hire me?” He asked, brown eyes looking at you anxiously. “I mean I have nothing that makes me stand out.”

“Only one way to find out,” You shrugged, clicking on the apply button. “Besides, are you saying my resume skills suck? I made you look like a 5 star option even with your lack of experience.”

“Isn’t that lying though?” Daisuked questioned, resting his head on your shoulder as you filled the form out for him (he chipped in when you didn’t know something). 

“No,” You hummed. “Lots of people don’t have experience, but they gotta put something on their resume.” 

As you finished, you glanced down at him, “You wanna go through with this?”

“Yeah,” He nodded with a sigh. “I really don’t wanna go to space.”

“Hmm,” you hummed again, resting your head on top of his as you hit submit. “You should tell your mom before she does anything.”

“Yeah,” He agreed. “I just don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“I know,” You murmured, allowing him to play with your fingers. “But the longer you procrastinate the more likely you’ll become an express worker.”

“You’re so responsible,” Daisuke groans. “How do you do it?”

Letting out a short chuckle, you respond, “Anxiety. And right now I’m anxious I’m gonna have to say goodbye to you, which is why we’re filling out job applications right now.”

“I love you,” He mumbled, nuzzling into your neck. 

“I love you too, silly,” You murmured back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

…

You were sitting in class when you noticed your phone light up. Daisuke’s smiling face popped up, he was calling you. Glancing up to the professor, they seemed busy enough to not notice you, so you opened your messages, typing a quick message,

What’s up? I’m in class rn

babygirl: YOU’LL NEVER GUESS QHAT HAPPENEF babygirl: oh babygirl: srry, txt u later babygirl: love you 🫶

okay! Love you too you goof <3

It was hard for you to shake the silly grin off your face for the rest of class. Daisuke always managed to make you feel like a lovesick fool, heart fluttering at every little thing he’d do. He had you kicking your feet and twirling your hair. Yeah, you were totally in the honeymoon phase, but you were enjoying every moment of that.

When you got out of class, you went outside to a quiet area on campus. Pulling out your phone, you sat on a bench and quickly hit the call button. You didn’t even get to hear the ring as Daisuke answered right away, cherrily shouting your name.

“What happened?” You asked with a smile. “You seem pretty excited.”

“I got the job!” Daisuke exclaimed, not waiting a second to tell you the good news.

“Whoa! Congrats!” You exclaimed back. “Wait, which one?”

“The factory one where I’d operate a forklift,” He replied, you could hear the smile in his voice. “My mom actually approves too.” “That’s amazing,” You felt super giddy. It felt like you had dodged a major bullet. 

“Yeah,” He sighed. “It’s all thanks to you, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t mention it,” You shrugged, glancing up at the pink and yellow sky. Your classes always run later on these days, you couldn’t wait to go home after this call. “You’re my fr- boyfriend, I’ll always have your back.”

“You done for the day?” Daisuke asks absentmindedly.

“Yeah.”

“Come over?”

“Sure.”

…

“Thank you so much for helping Daisuke,” His mother gushed with a stressed smile. “You’re such a good influence for him. I couldn’t ask for a better partner for my son.”

“O-oh, of course,” You stammered, feeling flustered at the compliments. “He means a lot to me, I’m glad I could help.” Nodding at her politely, you walked past, heading towards Daisuke’s room. Knocking on the door, you heard his cheerful voice tell you to come in. Entering, you set your backpack by the door, plopping yourself on his bed. 

“How were classes?” Daisuke asks, glancing at you from over his gameboy.

“It was fine,” You shrugged, stretching out to relieve some stress. “Nothing new.”

“Hmm,” He hummed in acknowledgement, beating the level he was on before turning the device off. “Wanna sleep over?”

“Sure,” You nodded, and Daisuke plopped himself on top of you. Ever since you started dating he had become incredibly more touchy, always touching you in some way, whether it be holding pinkies or laying on top of each other like a weighted blanket. You didn’t mind though, it was comforting, and you were a bit clingy too so at least it was mutual. Like clockwork, your hands started to run through his hair causing him to release a pleased sigh.

“Should we watch a movie?” You asked, glancing over to his stack of dvds. 

“But you’re so comfy,” Daisuke whined, snuggling further into your chest.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, but made no attempt to move, instead changing the topic, “When do you start your job?”

“In a few weeks,” He mumbled. “ ‘m kinda nervous about starting a serious job, but it's better than the alternative.”

“You’ll do great,” You tried to comfort. “I just know it.” 

“I think you're biased,” He grumbles, tilting his head up to make eye contact.

“Maybe just a bit,” You smiled, pinching his cheek lightly. “But I’d be a shitty partner if I didn’t encourage you.” Daisuke watched you fondly, he’s not sure what he did to deserve someone like you.

As you both laid in his bed, soaking in the other's presence, everything was alright. Neither of you know just how much of a bullet Daisuke had missed, the ship he was fated to join if he were to work at Pony Express had gone missing. When the news broke, the both of you couldn’t help but be horrified. What if that was the ship he joined? Not to mention the news of Pony Express going bankrupt, if Daisuke went as an intern it wouldn’t have gone far. 

Daisuke and his mother were even more grateful that you managed to find him a different job. Even if he didn’t enjoy it, it was better than whatever happened to the ill fated crew of the Tulpar.

[queenshelby]

The Unwilling Wife

Pairing: Dark Thomas Shelby x Virgin Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Full On Non Con, Loss of Virginity, Tommy being horrible

Note: This was a request!

Growing up Gypsy, it was customary for young women like you to be married off early. But in the heart of the Midlands, amidst the smokestacks and iron foundries of Birmingham, you were to marry a man of power and influence, Thomas Shelby.

You stood at the altar, dressed in a gown that glistened like liquid moonlight under the chandelier's golden glow. Your heart pounded against your chest like a caged bird, desperate to escape. You knew not what awaited you in this new world, but fate dictated that you must submit to its cruel whims.

Standing before the officiant, you locked eyes with Thomas, his gaze cold and unyielding. "I now pronounce you husband and wife," the Gypsy man uttered, the words striking a death knell within your heart.

You turned to face Thomas, the air thick between you, heavy with tension and unspoken words.

"Come now, Love," he rasped, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. He had his eyes on you for the past two years, but your parents insisted that he waited until you were ready for a union of such kind.

At twenty-one, your father passed away and you were no longer given a choice. You had to marry this man to provide stability to your family.

The weight of expectations bore down upon you, making each step feel like walking through mud. You'd never known much about love, having only felt the bitter sting of betrayal. You had no idea how this man, whose eyes held a wildfire of ambition, would treat you.

Thomas led you down the aisle, his grip firm yet gentle. "We are leaving now," he asserted, his tone hardening. You nodded, feeling the weight of the gazes upon you. Your heart hammered in your chest; the fear of uncertainty consumed you. The velvety darkness of night seemed like a safe haven compared to the storm brewing inside you.

You walked away from your familiar surroundings and the chill hung in the air, mirroring the icy sensation creeping down your spine as your husband led you to his car. 

He couldn't wait a minute longer to claim what now was rightfully his and you soon began to notice the urgency in his demur. 

It was all too late to do anything about it now though, as your hands shook and you found yourself staring back at him, paralyzed, even as you silently wished for a way out. In those moments, you remembered how different life could have been if your choices were truly your own. Yet, here you stood - defenseless, scared, and utterly alone.

"Your new home is only a short drive from here," he said abruptly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Despite the dimness of the interior, you noticed the hardness in his jawline, the intensity burning in his eyes. It was clear to you that he desired something far more than just physical pleasure. And as his hand found the small of your back, you knew that he wanted absolute control over you.

You followed meekly, stepping into the car as he shut the door behind you. The leather seats were warm against your skin, carrying a musky scent of polished wood and cigar smoke.

Thomas clicked the button to close the doors, and your stomach twisted in knots, the fear growing stronger within you. The car started smoothly, pulling away from the parking lot, leaving your old life behind. You watched the blurred lights pass by outside, trying to grasp the reality of your situation.

"So, tell me Love," Thomas broke the silence, "What did your parents tell you about me?" he wanted to know. 

"Not much," you managed to croak, swallowing the lump in your throat. The air was thick with tension, the silence pressing down on you like a vice. You fidgeted in your seat, shifting in discomfort.

"Just that you are dangerous," you finally replied honestly, trying to sound indifferent. The truth was, you barely knew anything about Thomas Shelby beyond the rumors you had heard from others. You knew he was a prominent figure in Birmingham's criminal underworld, feared and respected for his ruthlessness.

Thomas chuckled, his deep laughter echoing through the enclosed space. "Well, I suppose that's true enough, eh" he admitted, a glint of pride in his eyes. "But you have nothing to worry about Sweetheart. I'm a fair man," Thomas reassured you softly, reaching across the distance between the two front seats to stroke your arm gently. His touch was soothing, yet there was something unsettling about it.

"If you do as I say and behave like a good wife for me, I will treat you well," he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your wrist. "And, considering the deal I made with your mother, I have no doubt that you will learn your place fairly quickly, eh," he said. 

Thomas smiled grimly, his eyes flashing dangerously under the dashboard light. You tried to nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your palms were sweating against the satin fabric of your dress, and your heart raced wildly in your chest. You felt trapped, suffocated, and desperately yearned for freedom.

As the car pulled up to the entrance of an imposing mansion, the engine roared to a stop. Your breath caught in your throat; you had seen pictures of this place, but seeing it in person took your breath away. The house loomed high, casting ominous shadows onto the driveway.

Thomas opened the car door for you, offering his hand as if he expected you to jump straight into his arms. You hesitated, taking a moment to gather your courage before accepting his help. As you stepped out of the vehicle, the crunch of gravel beneath your heels echoed loudly in the silent night.

Inside, the mansion was magnificent. A grand staircase dominated the entrance hall, leading up to a second floor where countless rooms branched off. Each one seemed to hold its secrets, and you wondered what lay hidden behind closed doors. Despite the luxury surrounding you, feelings of unease crept into your mind.

"Frances will show you upstairs, to your bedroom," Thomas instructed, gesturing to a petite woman standing quietly near the entrance. Frances, you noted, was much older than you and appeared to possess a calm confidence you envied.

"Thank you," you whispered timidly, grateful for the reprieve from Thomas' intimidating presence.

With the slightest tilt of her head, Frances indicated that you should follow her.

"This way, Mrs Shelby," she called out to you politely, her tone as smooth as silk.

You trailed after her obediently, your feet whispering against the plush carpet beneath them. As you ascended the grand staircase, you paused to glance upwards, marveling at the glittering crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.

Frances shot you a smile, seemingly reading your awe-struck expression. "There's plenty to explore, Miss. But let's get you settled in first, shall we?" she said. "Mr Shelby will be up soon and my understanding is that he wants to consummate your union tonight," she added delicately but firmly.

You gulped, your heartbeat accelerating as Frances guided you toward a set of double doors adorned with intricate gold detailing. "Don't fret, Miss," she continued, opening the doors to reveal a stunning bedroom filled with luxurious furnishings. "In time, you may come to appreciate the finer things in life that Mr Shelby will provide for you," she told you and you knew the price you had to pay for what she was referring to. 

As such, you didn't respond, instead choosing to focus on the plush red rug beneath your feet.

Frances saw through your feigned ignorance, smiling softly. "Mr Shelby has selected some clothing for you to wear," she told you, pointing to the white satin lingerie on the bed before quietly leaving the room. 

You stared at the delicate garments laid out on the bed, feeling overwhelmed and anxious. The soft fabrics were unlike anything you'd ever touched before, and the thought of wearing them made you uncomfortable. You approached the bed cautiously, picking up the lacy bra and panties with trembling hands. 

"I am not going to wear this," you muttered to yourself while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Your fingers nervously toyed with the lace trimming of the underwear. You weren't accustomed to such luxury, nor the idea of being submissive to someone else's desires. Still, you knew you had little choice or control over your circumstances.

The clock struck midnight, and you heard footsteps approaching your door. Thomas entered the room, locking it behind him. The air crackled with tension, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"May I assume that the garments I chose for you did not fit?" Thomas asked, breaking the silence and you flushed, averting your gaze. 

"I did not try them on," you stammered, aware of the sudden stiffness in his posture and, unsurprisingly, your comment caused Tommy to sigh.

He stepped closer to you, towering tall over you as you remained seated, looking like a cornered fawn. His gaze swept over you once before speaking again.

"I am surprised you still hesitate," he began, running a hand through his dark hair. "I understand that you may be nervous, but I own you now. You are my wife and I expect you to do as I say," Thomas said, his voice low and steady. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. You flinched slightly, but you knew better than to pull away. This was your life now, and if you wanted to survive, you would have to play along.

"Now stand up and take off your dress," Thomas ordered, his voice hardening. You swallowed, knowing what he wanted.

You stood slowly, taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. He appraised you coolly, a slight smirk curving his lips. You clenched your fists, hating the fact that you had no other option but to comply.

"Undress," he commanded again bluntly, watching you closely.

You hesitated for a few seconds before peeling your wedding gown off. It slithered down your body, leaving you bare underneath the flickering candlelight. You shivered, the goosebumps rising on your skin as you met his assessing eyes.

"Good girl," Tommy smirked and you could feel his eyes roam over your flesh, drinking in the sight of your naked form while you shivered fearfully under his gaze. 

Your teeth gritted together, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Turn around," Thomas growled, his voice thick with lust. Reluctantly, you spun around, presenting your back to him.

His fingertips grazed your shoulder blades, tracing a path down your spine towards your waist. "You're beautiful Love," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And I have been dreaming of this moment for two fucking years now," he confessed, moving closer.

You flinched when you felt his hot breath on your neck, but you bit your lip and held your ground. You could sense that he was aroused, and that knowledge made you feel nauseous.

"Please, I don't want to do this," you whispered, your voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. "I have never been with a man before," you pleaded with him as his hands roamed over your body possessively. 

"And that excites me even more, knowing that I will be the first to have you," Thomas responded, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, turn around again and lie down on the bed for me, legs spread," he commanded you.

You hesitated, torn between your instinctive refusal and the stark realization that resistance would only invite punishment. After a moment, you reluctantly complied with his order, turning around and climbing on to the bed, lying down slowly but keeping legs firmly together. 

"Spread your legs, I said," barked Thomas, his patience clearly thinning. You looked up at him pleadingly, but his expression was resolute. With a quiet whimper, you reluctantly parted your legs. The gap between them widened, and you quickly covered your exposed sex with your hands.

"Let go of yourself," Thomas snapped, grabbing your wrists roughly and pinning them down to the mattress. "I want to see what is mine," he declared, inspecting every inch of your body with a predatory gaze.

You struggled weakly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"Please," you gasped, "I can't do this -- I've never done this before!"

To your surprise, the usually stern Thomas softened, stroking your cheek with the gentleness of a lover in the throes of passion. "Shh," he soothed, "Open your legs," he told you again and, nervously, you acquiesced, allowing him to guide your limbs apart. 

"That's it, Love," he praised you, stroking your inner thigh. "Beautiful," he breathed, his eyes devouring you greedily. "I've never seen anyone quite like you," he purred, leaning down to kiss the tender spot where your thigh met your hip. "You are fucking perfect," he growled before he kneeled down, upright, in between your legs so that you could do nothing else but keep your legs parted for him.

Tommy unbuckled his belt next and pushed his pants down to reveal his erection, dripping with the pre-cum, eager to penetrate you. It was monstrously swollen, pulsing, and visibly leaking. You recoiled back, feeling terrified, and disgusted. You tried to look away, but Tommy grabbed your chin, forcing you to confront it.

"You belong to me now," he declared, his voice sinister and commanding. "Your sweet little pussy belongs to me. No one else will ever have you or touch you like I do."

"Now hold still," Tommy said, maneuvering himself between your legs. He gripped your hips tightly, guiding your body into position. The rough texture of his calloused hands made you wince, but you held your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing your protests.

"Look at me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. You met his gaze warily, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense stare. His pupils dilated, reflecting the fire of desire burning within him as he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You tensed, feeling a wave of panic wash over you he started applying pressure that gradually increased.

"Relax," he urged as a bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, pooling at the base of your neck. The dampness was uncomfortably warm, adding to the mounting agony. You focused intensely on breathing evenly, attempting to distract yourself from the intrusion.

"I'm sorry, Love," he mumbled, his grip tightening around your thighs. "It is going to hurt, but you'll get used to it in time."

The words stung, a reminder of the brutal reality of your situation. You tried to brace yourself as Tommy continued to push, his cockhead teasing your wetness as it teetered on the brink of entry.

Your insides clenched involuntarily, resisting the violation. The muscles of your core contracted around his shaft, threatening to reject him entirely. You could almost imagine your womb recoiling within the confines of your pelvis, rejecting the foreign object invading your most sacred space.

"Relax," Tommy repeated, his voice strained but still calm. "And let me in," he growled, beginning to thrust harder, his cock slipping further into your tight passage. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as your body stretched to accommodate him.

"That's it Love," Thomas groaned, his thrusts becoming more forceful. "Let me fuck that little hole of yours," he grunted, relishing the sensation of his member filling you.

You tried to focus on his words, willing yourself to relax and enjoy the experience. But the overwhelming sense of violation left you numb, incapable of experiencing any pleasure. Instead, you clamped tightly around him, squeezing his cock in a futile attempt to prevent it from entering deeper.

"Fuck you are tight," Tommy moaned, his eyes glazed over with lust. "I can't believe how tight you are," he hissed, his nostrils flaring as he fought to regain control.

He grasped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he attempted to plunge farther into you. 

"Relax," he implored once more, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me push my cock all the way in to you," he snarled, plunging his cock into you with renewed vigor.

"That's it," he eventually groaned as he bottomed out against your cervix, "So tight," he panted, withdrawing  partially before slamming back into you with renewed fervor.

The impact reverberated through your whole body, causing your toes to curl. You gasped, feeling helpless against his raw strength. He drove into you relentlessly, his movements building momentum with each thrust. 

"My beautiful wife, you are taking my cock so well now," breathed Tommy, his voice husky with need.

You squirmed beneath him, your body racked with conflicting sensations. The pain was relentless, but somehow, the pleasurable hum of arousal grew louder, drowning out the cries of distress.

You swallowed convulsively, fighting back the tears welling up in your eyes. "No, please," you choked out, your voice cracking with desperation. "I can't handle anymore."

"I am almost done Love", Tommy whispered, burying his face in your neck.

Suddenly, you felt his thrust become shallow, and then he withdrew completely. You heaved a sigh of relief, thinking that it must finally be over. However, before you could fully exhale, Tommy flipped you onto your back and positioned himself above you.

"Oh god, please," you whimpered, struggling to escape his iron grip as he pinned your wrists down.

"Relax," he said through gritted teeth and, before you could argue, his cock slid back into you effortlessly, tearing a whimper from your throat. He fucked you mercilessly, unrelenting in his thrusts. 

"I'm ready to finish inside you," Tommy groaned, his pace quickening. "And I am going to cum deep inside you, Love," he growled, his strokes becoming erratic before, with a loud groan, he buried himself deep inside you again.

"Fuck," he groaned as he began to spasm, releasing his seed in hot spurts deep inside you. You cried out in shock, your body arching uncontrollably against the invasion. The thick warmth filled you, spreading inside you until it overflowed, dribbling down your leg.

"My beautiful wife," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy as, finally, he pulled out. 

You could feel his semen leaking down your thighs, a cold reminder of the act that had just transpired. The raw pain you felt was matched only by the shame and humiliation that weighed heavily upon you.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart" he mumbled, his voice sounding sincere but distant as he handed you a handkerchief. "I promise it won't be like this every time. Like I said, you will get used to it. Once you are broken in, it will be much easier for you, eh," your husband told you and you stayed silent, staring blankly ahead as he got dressed. The remnants of his seed dripped onto the sheets below you, staining the pristine white fabric with evidence of your desecration.

"Now get some rest," Thomas gruffly instructed you, brushing aside tangles of your long dark hair and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. He helped you scoot under the covers, positioning your body so that your legs were slightly parted. His firm hands ensured that you were tucked in properly, creating a cocoon of safety around you. "Tomorrow will be another day," he murmured, extinguishing the candles on the bedside table as he rose silently to leave.

"Goodnight, Love," he said softly, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Tags: @ietss@thorins-queen-of-erebor@cilliansbabe@calmingmelody96@lavender-haze-01@febris-amatoria@cursedalchemist @too-manyfandoms-help @sena-m @forgottenpeakywriter

[dollwrites]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ’s ᴡɪғᴇ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴋᴜʀᴇ ʀᴀɪᴀɴ

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 ∣ MINORS DNI!! this is a teaser for my newest raian fic !! that is exclusively for my patreon members <3 this fic and others are accessible through the falcon tier ( $5 a month )

“Wash the blood off of yourself, first….” it was the first time you’d made any sort of demand of him, and it came out low and hopeful, lacking confidence. your palm flattens against his chest, attempting to hold him steady and allow him no further purchase. if he’d wanted to, he could’ve easily overpowered you, but he pauses, his brow quirking. your eyes trail along his black tank top. beyond the fabric stretching tight over his developed muscles, it was soaked and reeked of old blood. he left blood smears on the white of the sheets and against your complexion.

“Eh?” Raian challenges, gripping your wrist tighter. any tighter and the bones that were bending against the pressure would snap, and he just wanted to remind you of that. “Thought you knew by now that I don’t give a shit about your weak constitution. Lay back and open up.”

but, you stood your ground. biting your lower lip, your palm presses harder against his chest, feeling his heart pumping below your fingertips. it was endearing to know that there was still a pulse under all that cruelty. your eyes harden as much as you can muster, and you slip your knee between his body and your own, pressing it against his abdomen. of course, if he so desired, he could pin you to the bed and take what he wanted anyways, but he’d said himself that he didn’t want a timid wife. his sceleras were abysmal, golden brows furrowing for a moment before a devilish smirk etches his mouth upwards. as if to force you to remember that he still called the shots, his hand slipped between your thighs and he cupped your sex roughly through your panties, fingers pressing hard on your button. letting out a little mew, you almost submit to him, before he whispers harshly, “Keep that pussy dripping until I get back.”

READ IT ON PATREON !!

[cherrywrecked]

roommates — m. sakura x you.

(tags: college roommates au. sakura x fem reader. fingering. oral, sakura receiving. scissoring. dirty talking. did i mention, sub!kkura? mommy kink!) i can't provide a word count for this since i basically wrote it in app already— but i hope it's still easy and enjoyable to read, regardless.

it was the weekend after your exams week. you had always been the studious type, focused, but ever since that night before the exams week, you can't seem to get sakura, your roommate, out of your head. the way she moaned out your name while sucking her tits or how hard she came all over your fingers— you were distracted, least to say.

the moment you got back to your apartment, you saw her in the living room, getting ready to go out. wearing a pink button down top, she was only in her panties as she buttoned her blouse. she had always been like this, though. the both of you have been living together since freshman year and have grown close to each other. seeing her half naked was not new to you nor her anymore. but god forbid, everything changed since the first time you did it with her. “hey, you done with exams?” she asked, glancing at you through the mirror. you only hummed in response, checking her ass out. that, she noticed but only shrugged it off. “how was it? should we go out to celebrate or to sulk over your possible scores?” sakura jokes, now finally facing you. her stomach, and basically her lower body half naked. you got closer, a hand reaching out to grab her by the arm and pulled her in, your free arm now slipped around her tiny waist. she was caught off guard by the sudden closeness but did not push you away.

“hey, are you okay? i'm worried.” she pouted which made you chuckle. such an innocent little kitten, you thought to yourself. she doesn't even know how horny you already are for her. “exams were okay. a bit distracted, but i'm pretty sure i still passed most, if not all of them.” you simply replied, brushing her hair out of her face, revealing more of her neck. the closeness, the sweetness... it was all too good for the both of you. sakura hummed, leaning in subconsciously against your hand. “distracted... that's new. you're never distracted when it comes to your studies, what's up?” she was obviously concerned but instead of answering her, all you did was to pull her into a kiss, soft and slow at first, but the moment she reciprocated the movements of your lips, the kiss grew needy.

“hey, wait—” you shook your head, forcing yourself more against her. you pushed her against the full body mirror she was just looking at herself from before you came in, your needy tongue forcing itself inside her mouth earning a moan from the smaller frame. sakura gives up from resisting you and closed her eyes whilst opening her mouth for your tongue to explore her wetness. “you're so pretty.” after a while, you started dragging your lips along her jaw, down to her neck. all sakura could do was submit herself to you and for you. “mommy...” she whimpers out as she leans her head back against the mirror as your lips plant soft kisses just above her cleavage, hands unbuttoning her top, as well as her bra which the clasp was at the front, earning a big sigh from her. “that feels good?” you chuckled lowly before bringing yourself up once more, giving her another kiss. this time, you slipped your arms around her waist, patting her bottoms and she immediately knew what to do. like the obedient little girl she was, she immediately clung onto you, with you now carrying little sakura in your arms, the kiss never once breaking.

sakura loves kissing you, but she wants more. she wants more of you. she finds herself now pressing, even grinding herself against you. this made you smirk against her skin, pulling away just before your kisses could reach her mounds. “mommy, no... no, why did you stop...” she looks at you with eyes. ah, she looks so pretty. she sounds pretty too and you were determined to hear more of her pleas. you pulled away, confusing kkura. you took off your clothes one by one, leaving you only with you pair of panties, black, as you prefer them to be and sakura does that as well—removing what's left in her body— her panties. she laid there naked, waiting for you. “mhm, look at you, i haven't even asked you to strip naked for me, but here you are.” your remark made her blush. “been waiting for me all day? is that why you purposely roamed around with only your panties on, mhm, kkura?” sakura felt so dirty, because it was true. she never had plans on going out anyways, she just wanted you to see her all dolled up for you.

“n-no! no. i w-was going to meet up with my f-friends...” she lied. she knows it well that it was a bad idea for her to do so, but she still did, making you raise a brow at her. carefully placing yourself in between her legs which she spread widely for you, you gave her inner thighs a slap. “so, you weren't waiting for me? you weren't getting dolled up for me to use?” you say, slapping and touching everywhere but where she wants you to touch her with every after word.

“who were you getting dolled up for, then, huh? looking pretty for someone else as if they can touch you better than i did?” you let out a bitter chuckle as you finally pressed against her clit, slowly but hardly rubbing her. sakura can't help but to move around, flinching as you teasingly pinch her sensitive muscle. “who is it, mhm? yunjin? chaewon? but they can't get you this wet by just kissing and slapping, can't they?” sakura could only shake her head profusely at the mention of her friends. “n-no! no, mommy! i-i... i did it for you.”, there we go. you smirked at her words before you stuck your tongue out to lick the length of her cunt, earning a long moan from the girl.

“that's right. you only want me, don't you, pretty?” sakura could only nod her head in agreement with your words as she felt hazy with how your lips were wrapped around her clit, sucking and lightly biting on it while your finger teases her hole. sakura's so, so wet for you. as if she had been waiting for you the whole week like you were for her. like she could only be this slutty for you, and only you. “m-mommy, it f-feels so good! more, please... i need more.”, your little girl pleaded as she grinds herself against your face, greedy to feel your fingers inside of her dripping cunt.

“aw, my little girl knows how to use her words well, doesn't she? even using please.” you mocked her all while two of your fingers slip inside her cunt, making sakura throw her head back in pleasure, her moans growing louder even more so when you stopped laughing at her neediness and went back into sucking, teasing her clit at the same fast pace your fingers and going inside of her.

exchange of pleas and curses repeatedly were the only words you can hear from sakura. she can't think, but she knows she loves the way you're touching her. “m-mommy, it feels so nice... f-fuck! right there! please, mommy! faster, faster!” sakura's voice raised an octave and in volume as the tip of your fingers found her sweet spot, repeatedly hitting it. you loved watching her throw herself around the bed, back arched as she felt a knot forming her abdomen. “c-cum... mommy can i cum? please, mommy, i'm so so close! please please please... fuck. mommy! mommy!” sakura couldn't even wait for you to use your words and allowed herself to cum all over your fingers and mouth, her juices coating, creaming around your index and middle finger. “good girl, baby.” you smiled at her as you pulled your fingers from her cunt, earning a whine from her.

without wasting time, sakura sat up from her position, legs still wobbly and breath still shaking. she took your fingers into her mouth as she used her hands to tug on your panties, as if asking you to take them off, which you did, finally exposing how wet you are for her as she was for you. “want more, mommy, please. more of you, please?” sakura practically begged through her lustful eyes, tongue licking your fingers clean. you swiftly shifted her position, hooking her legs with yours as you positioned her atop of you, both your wet pussies touching each other. the both of you let put a long, needy moan while sakura threw her head back, hips starting to move without even thinking twice. she looked fucking amazing with her hair messed up, her tits jiggling along with the movements of her hips.

sakura's lips were ajar as she moaned your name out, louder as you started to pinch her nipples, adding more pleasure for the girl. “that's it, baby. you're such a good girl for mommy, aren't you? faster, baby. you feel so good against mommy.” your dirty talking only added more fuel to the fire and she does as she was told. purposely grinding your hips with hers, her movements grew sloppier. you held her waist trying to keep her steady, but you were reaching your high too. “fuck, baby. i'm so close. keep going, sakura.” you moaned out loud before pulling her by her neck for a kiss—tongue forcing its way inside her mouth, moaning against it. you could feel her juices mix with yours drip on your ass cheeks and fuck, it was driving you insane. sakura's driving you insane.

soon enough, the both of you reach your high. “m-mommy! mommy! f-fuck, fuck! fuck.” sakura screams as her body convulsed and drop on top of you and you could only hug her as you too, share your fair share of body shuddering. your head was all over the clouds, but sakura. sakura passed out already and you can only chuckle at that. carefully carrying her to a more comfortable position, you laid beside her and held her close to your arm. “thank you, baby.” you whispered and kissed her forehead. sakura heard that, but she was too tired, giving only a hum and a nuzzled against your neck, making your heart flutter with how cute she is right now.

this might not just be the lust you're feeling for her, after all.

[lizzieisright]

AUUH okay I know it’s tuff and all for the writing so I wouldn’t expect this to be done automatically it’s just whenever you get the chance😭🙏 bratty omega Abby? i could just see her being a brat badly and reader puts her in her place

I've also got a req for the heat/rut sync and Abby's moodiness fits in perfectly. She is such a brat once she knows she can rile you up I love her.

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, heat/rut sync, rough sex, pregnancy scare, brat!Abby.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It's not common for heats and ruts to sync - so you two for some stupid reason don't check your tracking apps to see when you're due. 

You know Abby's heat is coming up because she is moody: she is grumpy and frustrated and gets irritated if you don't understand her puzzling demands. It doesn't upset you - you let her have her space and be as moody as she wants. 

For some reason, it only makes her more moody. Abby is frowning as she watches you fold your laundry.

“You're doing it wrong.” She complains and you chuckle. 

“Do you want to do it?”

“No, I want you to do it right. Slacks belong on a rack. You folded them and you'll look like an embarrassing fool when you put them on.”

You chuckle, but it's not a good chuckle: you can't help but to feel challenged by your own omega. Abby starts to notice how your presence pressures her into submission, but she just gets more irritated with you. 

“Anything else?” You ask and the dangerous undertone of your voice gets Abby excited. 

“You don't iron your clothes. It's annoying.” 

“Huh.” You press your lips together and Abby smells your anger. 

But you smell her arousal.

“Enjoying pushing my buttons?” Abby frowns like you said something stupid, but her scent spikes. “I can smell you.”

Abby huffs and gets up to walk out of the room, still trying to keep her irritated facade, but you catch her by her waist: you will not let it slide. 

“You don't get to walk away from me after being a brat.” Abby frowns but her cheeks flush red. She is caught.

“I'm not a fucking brat.” Abby tries to save her dignity. “You need to learn how to fold your clothes.” 

“Do I now? Or did you come up with an excuse to get me angry?” You graze her throat with your fangs and Abby folds. 

Her scent becomes thick and it hits you hard enough so you dig your nails into her waist, her pheromones pushing all of your instincts that are revved up on Abby's mood. You want to own her, to show Abby her fucking place and your brain just doesn't function anymore. You're not her nice gentle alpha now - you feel possessive and aggressive. 

“Bedroom, now.” You growl and Abby obediently guides you to your bedroom. 

You close the door and push Abby to the bed while she looks at you with her golden eyes and she is still fucking stubborn.

“Knees and elbows.” You order her and Abby listens. 

She presents herself to you: her spread glistening thighs with her swollen pussy on display. Abby turns her head to look at you and you growl: from this angle she looks so innocent, as if she wasn't being a bitch two minutes ago, and so inviting, begging to be filled and fucked properly.

You get on the bed and knead her ass, making Abby mewl, getting her desperate and frustrated - you feel it in her scent, her impatience. 

“You want something, babygirl?”

“Fuck me.” Abby growls and it rips your self-control to shreds. Your eyes turn red and your scent gets worse, overpowering Abby. 

You grab her hair and press her head into the mattress, while you hold her waist with your other hand, making Abby arch and submit. Abby feels your jeans on her bare thighs and she rubs against you, not caring about anything anymore. 

“Don't fucking growl at me.” You say and Abby whines, falling into heat euphoria. 

“Please.” Abby begs, now definitely too turned on: she is ready to fucking cry. 

You hum and let go of Abby's hair, trying to get yourself under control. You sit back and watch Abby's hips wiggle, looking for any kind of relief, and you can't take it anymore, can't see Abby so stressed because she's not getting fucked. 

Two fingers slide in Abby easily and she moans, relieved. Abby can't keep her thighs up, her knees sliding in opposite directions, so you hoist her up by her hips and finally starts fucking her. You're still careful, but Abby is so wet and her cunt stretches so well around your fingers that you get more aggressive, almost taking your fingers out only to push them back to the hilt. Abby whines and grips her pillow, not knowing where to put herself: it feels so good, but she needs more. 

“I need you, please.” Abby chokes on her moan when you thrust particularly hard. Your pace gets quicker and then Abby feels another finger prodding her hole. “Oh my god, yes.”

“Look at this pussy, taking my fingers so well.” You marvel, watching your three digits fucking in and out of her. “You must be already close, tightening on me like this.”

Abby whines and snakes her hand to her clit, but you don't let her, pushing her hand away. Instead you lean down and suck on her clit, making Abby cum immediately. Abby shrieks and tries to close her thighs, but you keep fucking her anyway, until she taps her hand on your hip.

You slowly take your fingers out of Abby and kiss her ass cheek affectionately while you watch her cum drip on the covers. Your dick twitches and Abby whines when she sniffs how turned on you're, eager to satisfy you. Abby arches deeper, a clear invitation, and you growl, unbuckling your jeans and sliding them down enough for your cock to be free. 

You rub your dick on her wet, sensitive pussy and Abby growls again, too impatient for her own good. The slap on her ass cheek makes Abby twitch from sudden pain, but her scent spikes in arousal. 

“Cut it out.” You growl back and slap her other cheek, leaving a red handprint on her skin. 

Abby mewls and only gets wetter, pressing back into you. 

“Please.” 

“You can do better.” You huff and gently slap her cunt, making Abby jump. 

“Please-please-please, I need you, fuck.” Abby begs and you tap her pussy while she speaks just to rile her up. “Alpha, please!”

Abby hides her shriek in the pillow while you bottom out inside her, dragging your cock over her tight, sensitive walls. She is so wet and smells so fucking good, you just have to lean down and sink your teeth into her shoulder. Abby whimpers and bucks her hips, taking you even deeper, making you moan into her ear, and you both fall into full pheromone bliss. 

You slam your hips into Abby, pressing her head into the pillow so she wouldn't move, so she would submit, and she only sticks her ass out for you, submitting happily. You are mounting her now, covering Abby with your body, suffocating her with your scent, and Abby melts into the bed, whining and whimpering as you fuck her. Abby doesn't even try to think, fully lost in you, her only need is to be filled up and knotted now. 

“Alpha-” Abby sobs and pushes her arms by her sides to grab her underbutt and pull it apart, opening her drooling hole for you. You growl and slam into her harder: you don't control yourself anymore. 

You move your hand between Abby's shoulder blades to keep her pinned, but then you move enough so you could play with Abby's clit while you thrust into her relentlessly. 

“F-fuck-” You grunt when Abby tightens around you, making your pace stutter. “You're gonna be good? Gonna cum on my cock?”

Abby nods her head feverishly and mewls, her cunt flutters around you. 

“Good.” You growl and pick up your speed. You're so high on the pheromones, on the way Abby's pussy is so tight and hot around you, so you keep fucking her, pushing back inside her just to hear her little whimpers and feel her hot walls trap you. 

Abby coils and cums, filling your nose with her spiked scent, and you don't think anymore: you don't hear anything except Abby's pleas to knot her. You dig your nails into her hips and pull her back on your cock, and Abby jumps and twitches, but takes it. 

“Cum inside me, please.” Abby moans and you slam so hard into her Abby moves up on the bed, her poor pillow is under her tits now. 

“You'll look so good pregnant with my kids, Abby.” You pant. “Gonna be a good little omega and take my knot?” 

“Yes, please, yes!” Abby sobs and arches again, showing her submission, and it tips you over: you thrust into her, pushing your knot inside and Abby cums again, triggering your own orgasm when she pulsates around your knot. You growl and cum, filling Abby up. 

You both collapse on the bed and you bury your nose in Abby's neck, growling still. Your scent stops suffocating her and you both start to calm down. Your brain gets clearer in time with Abby's and suddenly you both smell of anxiety. 

“Fuck.” You sigh, not sure if you can touch Abby: you were so fucking rough with her. “Baby, how are you? I'm so sorry.”

“I'm fine, I'm good.” Abby says quickly, but she stinks of anxiety. “It's not that. You're in rut.”

You stop breathing. If you're in rut, and Abby is in heat, it-

“We fucked up.” Abby whispers, horrified. “I'm not on birth control.” 

You swallow, your heart heavy: you know what it means - it means Abby can get pregnant, since the syncs are the only times when an omega can get pregnant. You take a breath to keep calm for Abby's sake: you need to fix whatever upset her. You need to make her feel happy and safe, not scared and anxious. Thank god you can think for now, before your hormones fuck you over again. 

“Okay, baby, breathe. I'll go to the pharmacy and buy emergency pills.” You tell her gently and Abby nods. 

“What if they don't work? Fuck, what if I get pregnant?” The smell of anxiety intensifies and you really want to sneeze. 

“Then we will deal with it.”

“Will you leave me?” Abby sniffles.

You chuckle fondly: Abby is so cute during her heats. 

“Of course not. Summer wedding, remember?” You nuzzle into Abby's neck and carefully move to your side to make you two comfortable. “I'll be with you no matter what.” 

Abby sniffles again and smells of love, and you hug her tightly, your affection spilling out of you. 

“I didn't want to be so rough.” You say apologetically and Abby snorts. 

“I loved it. I knew someday I'd break you.” Abby smirks and you look dramatically shocked.

“So you planned it!”

“No, I was annoyed. But now I know I just need to growl at you and you'll do exactly what I want.” 

“Don't start now, I'm still kinda power crazy.”

“I'm going to have so much fun.” Abby giggles and you flick her nipple, making her yelp. 

“Yeah?” You purr dangerously and Abby shudders, clenches around your knot. “I will use my voice if you do it again.”

Abby bites her lips as her plan forms in her head. She is definitely growling at you again. 

It takes fifteen minutes for the knot to ease up and you run to the pharmacy, knowing you have fifteen minutes before you’re hit with the next wave. You stink, and people let you go first so you won’t bother them, and you run back home just in time. 

You don’t expect to be met with a very grumpy Abby: she sits on the bed in your t-shirt, frowning and pouting, her arms crossed on her chest. You blink at her, trying to guess her mood, but you have no idea what it is. 

Then she scrunches her face when she sees the pills in your hand, and her frown deepens. 

“No.”

You blink again.

“What do you mean “no”?”

“It’s our baby. I want to have our baby.” Abby crosses her arms tighter, defiant. 

Each word triggers your rut and you have to breathe through your mouth to calm down: you can’t just listen to your omega begging to have your baby, but you need to think with your bigger head right now.

“How about we go through this sync, and then if you still want a baby after, we will take it seriously, hm?”

Abby frowns, irritated. 

“Why can’t we have this baby? It’s already there!”

You hardly keep yourself from laughing: Abby is so fucking cute.

“Because this baby’s got irresponsible parents who will have them as an accident.”

“Okay. But only this time. I don’t want an accident baby. I want a planned baby.” 

Abby takes the pill and drinks water, while you sigh in relief - Abby might’ve been more stubborn. 

“It’s all your fault.” Abby says and you chuckle. 

“Instead of being a brat you can just beg like a good girl.” You offer her and Abby huffs. 

“You wish, alpha.” She mocks you. You smile.

Five minutes after Abby is begging and crying when you use your voice to tell her she is not allowed to cum. 

She is not the only one who is allowed to have fun.

[incognit0slut]

ok song request idea: dress by taylor swift. like spence and reader work together and everyone just thinks they’re best friends but in reality they are much more. anyways the team goes out and reader wears a special little dress and spencer goes a little crazy and yeah that’s the idea

Such a perfect song, thank you for the idea! And btw this is just very witty writing please enjoy my sense of humor yall🙂

Take it off

or in summary, the one where Spencer has a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

cw: 18+ implied sexual content but nothing too explicit; wc: 1.8k

MASTERLIST

“…only bought this dress so you could take it off…”

IT STARTED WITH A GLANCE. The subtle look he gave on her arrival at this dinner festivity the team decided to put together had him quivering in his seat, his eyes almost bulging out of its socket as they roamed across the piece of clothing plastered on her body, or perhaps, the lack of it. The silk material hugged her curves so effortlessly, highlighting the way her luscious body was pressed along the short fabric that he was so close to whimpering like a dog.

It was an obscene thought, one he never considered crossing his mind and one that would leave him extremely appalled if anyone knew the truth of it. Comparing himself to a domestic mammal just because he was prone to submit to a master...

He must be mad. Utterly, completely out of his mind.

Yet he couldn't help it. Not when he was practically following her with an imaginary tail wagging between his legs. Not when she looked like a goddess and he was inclined to worship her existence. It was a sense of devotion and adoration, like a feeling of reverence for her curves and figure, for the way she carried herself every time she moved.

It was an intense sensation that was hard to explain, but Spencer would describe it as close to paying tribute to her beauty. To everything about her. Not only was the feeling overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating how the stolen glances enticed the need to reach out and feel those curves right in the palm of his hands.

It was torture. It was an incredibly torturous endurance to be held in his place while she looked like that. Smooth legs, exposed back, and soft cleavage teasing his whim. She also smelled incredibly delicious. A fragrance of delicate flowers with a hint of warm vanilla that made him dizzy with need. He needed to be kept on a leash before he did something he would regret.

Because he needed to behave. Between undressing her with his eyes and wanting to grab her by the waist just to ravish her completely, he needed to keep his calm between his peers, especially when Prentiss had accidentally caught him staring—which he had to mask as finding a newfound interest in the tablecloth single-handedly picked by Rossi, the host of this joyous event.

But it was getting hard to conceal his shaking hands, to act as if he wasn’t craving her touch. It was getting even harder when she suddenly came up to him later that night as he stood by the dessert table, a variety of sweetened goods bought from the most authentic patisserie in town.

"Hey, Spencer." Dear god, even her voice sounded like velvet to him. He watched as her lips slipped into a taunting smile. "You look handsome tonight."

He looked down at his attire. He was never one to put much thought into his choice of clothing, his concern mainly for comfort, not for style. But tonight he adorned himself in a crisp white button-down under the best suit jacket he possessed. It's a black-tie event, Rossi had said the day before. He wasn't sure why his colleague wanted to host a simple dinner into a fancy soirée, but he was a mere guest, and he'd follow anything the host of the night instructed.

He also felt rather silly wearing this bowtie, but after hearing her genuine compliment, it gave him a sense of pride and joy. It also gave him a boost of confidence as he took a step closer, his eyes raking over her body very slowly as if he was taking his time relishing the stunning view in front of him.

She felt the intensity of his gaze as he muttered, "And you look unbelievably irresistible."

A choked laughter slipped out of her mouth. Talking to Spencer had always been interesting, especially whenever he had something factual to share, but the whimsical words coming out of his mouth was what amused her the most.

"I'm told that I look pretty tonight, but I do like that better." She lifted her glass to her lips and noticed the way his eyes lingered on the top of her dress, a full display of cleavage visible to his enjoyment. "So I take it you're fond of the dress?"

"It's exquisite." She giggled at his choice of words. But then the amusement in her eyes slipped into bewilderment as he continued, "Although as much as I enjoy seeing it on your body, I think prefer it on the floor."

It took all of her abilities not to spit out the sweet taste of the expensive wine she just sipped in her mouth. She had to swallow the liquid down her throat and take a deep breath before she could do anything, her mind haunted by the specter of his hands fiddling the zipper on her back, rough fingers grazing her skin as they slowly slid down her body.

"Spencer," she finally murmured, trying to sound disapproving, but it was far too husky.

"What?" He asked innocently. "I'm being honest."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

What was he scheming? What kind of game was he playing, proposing suggestive words, pushing all of her buttons beneath the innocent look he portrayed? The air was suddenly charged with tension. It was a palpable sensation of yearning and lust that came with a sense of danger and risk. It was like a wave of heat washing over her, a very primal and overwhelming feeling that was extremely difficult to control.

Deciding that she wanted to participate in his game, she knew the only way to get the upper hand was to give him a taste of his own medicine. She twisted her head and peered at him through her lashes before executing her revenge.

"Then it's a good thing I bought it so you could take it off."

Perhaps to those around them, they looked like good friends engaging in an innocent banter, heads together, whispering silly jokes. Not in the middle of exchanging explicit promises while he attempted to school his expression on the suggestion she was spouting.

He leveled her gaze. "Statistically speaking, ripping it off would give me a higher chance to do the things I want to do to you sooner."

"Yeah?" She quirked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this. "Give me a number then."

"Well, satin is a very delicate fabric and is quite frail and fragile. So it would take me approximately..." He looked away, marveling at the possibilities, before assessing her with a look that had her feeling extremely flustered. "...three seconds to rip it off."

Her tongue swiped her bottom lip while his eyes followed the movement. "You’d actually rip the dress?"

His gaze lingered on her mouth. "In a heartbeat."

"It's very expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one."

Her head was spinning. The image of his large hands gripping onto the fabric and tearing it apart should've repulse her, it was such a primal thing to do that it seemed so close to an animal-like instinct. Like a dog. Like a wolf. With the heat of his gaze, she was sure he could even devour her the moment his hands touched her skin. Eating her whole would be an extreme notion, but eating her like a man starved as he buried his head between her thighs was something she considered possible.

His gaze was so intense that she had to look away to calm her breathing, to let her heart normalize its pace. But then she felt fingertips brush her shoulder. It was light, almost imperceptible, causing a shiver to run down her spine; goosebumps breaking out all over her limbs. This was extremely dangerous, but he had some kind of pull toward her and all the rational thought keeping her sane flew out the window.

She bit her bottom lip as those warm fingers made their way down the sensitive skin of her inner bicep, then slowly made their way down her forearm. It wasn't until she felt the pressure of his palm on her backside that she gasped in surprise. And it wasn't light—oh no, it was immensely rough. His hand gripped onto her left cheek with utmost force, squeezing it thoroughly that she had to straighten herself, her eyes going frantic.

"Spencer!" She hissed, looking around them as she swat his arm away.

"I'm sorry! I can't help it." He cocked his head, his eyes still piercing onto her ass as his intrusive thought won over him. "What underwear are you wearing? You’re incredibly smooth."

She didn't know whether to laugh or hit some sense into him. "Please behave, someone might see us."

"But they didn't." He gave her a sheepish smile, nodding his head towards their friends who were deep in conversation with one another. "And they won't."

She held the urge to roll her eyes. "Just keep your hands to yourself, Dr. Reid."

"Or what?"

"Or..." She glanced at him, noticing the way he was watching her. The sparkle in those hazel orbs was enticing, they were somewhat deep in this pleading yet captivating manner that reminded her of doe, puppy-like eyes. Seeing this she couldn't help but muster, "Or I might have to put you on a leash."

The heat creeping along his cheeks was enough for her to spew out an amused laugh. "Spencer Reid," she goaded, enjoying the way he was flustering over her teasing. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed being caught of his lewd thoughts. He was trying to avoid her gaze as he picked up his forgotten glass resting on the table. She couldn't stop herself as she leaned forward on her heels and hid herself from any onlookers, slightly settling her lips on the crook of his neck, inches away from tasting his skin.

"And to answer your question," she whispered, waiting for him to casually take a lazy sip of his drink. "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

She couldn't help the triumphant smirk as he choked on the mouthful of wine he just swallowed. He then gaped at her, absolutely flabbergasted, and she gave him one last blistering look before excusing herself on the pretense of the bathrooms. Her hips swayed with every move it was hard for him to look away, because all he could think of now was to run his hand up her thighs just to be greeted with soft, wet folds aching to be touched. Aching to be tasted.

It took a lot of self-control for him not to bark.

[bunnys-kisses]

can I pls have a spice pie and maple taffy… with drinks of dark roast coffee and a martini? Served Lance stroll? THANK YOUUUU UR THE GOAT

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to see what you come up with! and thank you to all of those who have sent prompts, i am working really hard to get them all done. so thank you! i hope you enjoy this, to the twenty lance stroll fans who are all in my inbox (ily) <3 (also picking maple taffy for lance stroll is funny as hell)

edit: i realized that i horribly misread this prompt and got sub!character mixed up with sub!reader, so where ever you are anon. if you wish to submit another prompt, i am more than happy to write it properly for you. (it's been a long writing session tonight!)

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut." + maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid." + dark roast coffee: sub!character reader + martini: mafia au served by lance stroll (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!lance, dom/sub, sub!reader & dom!lance, jealous!lance

maybe bringing you to las vegas was a bad idea. sin city wasn't the type of place that a girl liked you belonged in. you belonged in the lovely apartment that you and lance shared back in montreal. bundled up in your thick winter coat while you went to go pick up a bottle of wine for dinner or a late night snack run only to whine when the corner store was closed.

sin city was a whole other demon, one that you had never seen. that was what lance chalked it all up to, you trying to fit in, as you tried to leave your hotel room dressed on par with a nighttime slut.

"where are you going?" he asked as he rolled up the sleeves of his button up. he looked good in it, the fabric of the shirt clung to his arms perfectly, only slightly outshone by how it fit his shoulders.

"seeing the other girls, it's not every day we're in the same city." just as the heads of families kept in contact with each other, the significant others of said men in power also kept in contact. except your conversations were a little less business oriented. more casual and fun.

lance eyed you up and down. you were wearing something very revealing, very slutty. he gave a nod of his head, "and you're going dressed like that."

you looked down at your outfit. it was a satin baby pink slip with straps that crossed in the back. it was cut well above your knee and paired with strappy heels. you looked back at him, "why wouldn't i?"

"do you not see what's wrong with it? you look like you should be selling sex on the strip. like a whore!"

you pouted, "i don't look like a whore!" then stamped your foot down like a child. you watched lance roll his shoulders before he closed the space between you two and had you pressed against the door of the hotel room.

he grabbed you by the chin and made you look into his dark eyes. he said lowly, "oh my god you're stupid, i bet i could sell you on the strip tonight. maybe shove you in a stall at the casino and let you put those whorish lips to work." he rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip before he rubbed the lip gloss between his thumb and pointer finger, "you seem ready to be used in a glory hole."

your bottom lip wobbled, "i'm not a whore." you could feel your knees grow into jelly and lance simply pulled you in for a kiss. when he kissed you, you moaned into it and pressed yourself up against him.

when he pulled away and said, "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut." before he grabbed you by the ass and pulled you against him. his cock twitched in his slacks.

you pouted further at him before he pulled you into another searing kiss. it was excited you in a way that you felt almost pathetic when you moaned loudly against him. there was something about your mafia boyfriend that made you simply melt. you were twisted between his fingers, which was why it was so hard to disobey him.

he looked at you for a moment before he roughly patted your cheek, "yeah, you're not going out tonight. tell your girlfriends that we made other plans tonight."

"what do i say?"

he took you by the hand and pulled you away from the door. you were pressed against him for a moment which made you feel warm between your legs. he replied, "lie." and it wasn't before you were on the large hotel room and you were looking up at your boyfriend.

there was something domineering about lance's strong, dark features. there was a mystery about him that lured you in. that was probably why you were initially drawn to him. he was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and eyed you up and down.

it wasn't hard to get you out of the dress, it was barely a scrap of fabric that covered you. if lance pulled on it hard enough he could probably tear the seams. but if he did that, you'd probably cum on the spot. you weren't wearing a bra and the panties you wore barely covered anything.

"i could've sold you for a pretty penny tonight." he chuckled as he took off his belt and wrapped it around his hand for a moment, but then unwound it. you were a glutton for punishment and lance wasn't going to quench that thirst.

you looked at him, naked on the bed. you were seated on the mattress with your legs stretched out. you pouted, "i'm sorry, sir." and that licked something in lance's brain.

it made him drop his belt to the ground and he chuckled, "someone really is sorry, huh." he leaned forward and cupped your face for a moment. he could almost feel your racing pulse under his fingers, "next time, i get to pick what you wear. so i know that you're being safe out there. this city would eat you alive, sweetheart. if i lost you, i don't even want to think what i would do. rip the city in half."

you felt something swim in your guy. you licked your lips, tasting the bubblegum of your lip gloss. you pulled away and laid out on the bed. eventually you inched yourself up into the pillows and reached your arms out for him.

lance quickly got his slacks and undergarments off before he got into bed with you. he got himself between your legs, his chest pressed against yours. your legs hiked up around his waist and his hard cock against your slick pussy.

"fuckin' hell." he groaned as he kissed at your neck, "you feel like a dream. i know it. i know you so well, every inch of you." he sank his cock into you and your toes curled a little. you tensed for a moment before you relaxed enough to slot himself into you.

you held onto his shoulders and let out a soft moan.

lance admired your expression for a moment. he felt a shudder of pleasure through his body as he held onto your hips. he made sure that you were more comfortable with his cock inside of you before he started to move. he rocked against you, gaining momentum with each of his movements.

"i've admired you every day since i met you. you are the most beautiful woman in any city were in. no one holds a candle to you." he gripped onto you tighter and you did the same. the two of you were soon kissing deeply, the kisses were heavy and muffled the noises that you two made. but not the sounds of the hotel bed creaking under you.

"mmm, lance." you whimpered as he moved against you. you could feel the heat across you body. your cheeks flushed with sexual heat. this was how you two always ended up, tumbled in the sheets together, rutting against one another like animals.

"see, you look much better like this. better than any club. if you wanted to get drunk, we could do that here. and then i'd make sure your hangover wasn't too bad. fuck the drunk out of you." he chuckled lowly as he continued to fuck you.

you felt the pleasure continue to course through you. you held onto him tighter as you tried to pick up the pace. the moans were loud and sweet, "please, sir." you were lance's everything. from a lover to a sexual submissive. you drove him wild.

the pace between you two was quick as the two of you fucked with a heat between the two of you. the kisses continued, they were messy just like your pace. it wasn't long before you clutched onto lance tightly with your head on his shoulder as you felt so close to him. sweaty all over.

"beautiful." he hissed as he felt the pleasure hit its peak. you both came at the same time. you thought you could feel his heartbeat as he finished inside of you. you both were panting heavily and the sweat covered your body. you laid out there under him while he pulled away a little bit to admire your naked form. he licked his lips at the sight of you and said, "mine."

you nodded dumbly and said, "yours, always." before lance had you on your elbows and knees with your hips raised. you'd text the others later about why you couldn't meet up with them. but it was hard to do that when your phone was in the living area and lance was rearranging your insides. <3

[his0kaswh0r3]

Illumi's Dark Desires ☽

cw: dom sub relationship, bondage, biting, degradation, orgasm denial, breeding

The room was dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. The air was thick with anticipation, and the scent of Illumi's cologne filled your nostrils. You could feel your heart racing as you waited for him to arrive.

Illumi entered the room, his eyes scanning over your body hungrily. He was dressed in a white button up, his signature black hair contrasting sharply against the light fabric. He walked over to you slowly, his movements calculated and deliberate.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe in his presence. Illumi was a man of power and control, and you knew that you were completely at his mercy. You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as he approached you.

"You look beautiful," Illumi said, his voice low and husky. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "I've been waiting for this all day."

You could feel your cheeks flushing with desire as Illumi continued to touch you. He ran his hands down your body, his fingers tracing over your hips and thighs. You could feel yourself growing wet with anticipation, your body responding to his every touch.

Illumi led you over to the bed, his hands guiding you gently. He pushed you down onto the mattress, his body hovering over yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and you knew that he was just as turned on as you were.

"You're mine tonight," Illumi growled, his voice filled with possessive lust. "I'm going to take you in every way imaginable."

You shuddered with pleasure as Illumi began to undress you, his hands expertly unbuttoning your shirt and unzipping your pants. He threw your clothes aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're so beautiful," Illumi whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I could stare at you all day."

You blushed, feeling a sense of vulnerability as Illumi gazed at your naked body. But you also felt a sense of power, knowing that you had the ability to bring him to his knees.

Illumi reached into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a length of rope. You felt a thrill of excitement run through you as he bound your wrists and ankles, securing you to the bedposts.

"I want you completely at my mercy," Illumi growled, his eyes blazing with desire.

You nodded, feeling a sense of submission wash over you. You trusted Illumi completely, and you knew that he would never hurt you. You felt a sense of freedom in giving up control, allowing him to take charge.

Illumi began to explore your body, his fingers tracing over your sensitive skin. He kissed and nipped at your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh as he marked you as his own. You moaned, feeling a sense of pleasure and pain mixing together.

"I'm going to make you scream," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Illumi's touch was rough and possessive, his hands leaving bruises on your skin. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan and beg for more. "You're my perfect little slut, aren't you?"

You loved it when Illumi talked to you like that, when he reduced you to nothing more than his plaything. You felt a sense of pride in being able to please him, in being able to submit to his every desire.

As Illumi continued to touch you, you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge. You begged him to let you come, your voice filled with need.

"Please, Illumi," you pleaded, your voice trembling with desire. "I need to come."

Illumi chuckled, a wicked grin on his face. He loved the power he had over you, the way you submitted so willingly to his every command. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours.

"Beg for it, slut," he growled, his voice filled with lust. "Beg me to let you come."

He continued to tease you, his fingers dancing over your clit as he brought you to the brink of orgasm again and again. You could feel yourself growing more and more desperate, your body aching for release.

Finally, Illumi relented, his fingers pushing you over the edge as you screamed his name. You could feel your body convulsing with pleasure, your muscles tensing and releasing as you came.

But Illumi wasn't done with you yet. He pulled out his cock, his thick length throbbing with desire. He entered you roughly, his hips slamming into yours as he claimed you.

You could feel every inch of him, his cock filling you completely as he thrust in and out. You moaned, feeling a sense of pleasure and pain mixing together. Illumi was rough and demanding, his movements relentless as he took what he wanted.

And when Illumi finally came, he filled you completely. You could feel his hot seed spilling inside of you, marking you as his own. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

"You're mine," Illumi whispered, his voice filled with possessive lust. "Mine to use and abuse, mine to fuck and breed."

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that you belonged to Illumi, that you were his perfect submissive. And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that you would always be his.

[theonemeathead]

Here for the requests

...reader using a fleshlight on Scout? Like, teasing him, making him beg for ir but he's a brat so it's kind of difficult to get him to do it

Scout x Reader, "Needy"

hello! sorry it took so long for me to answer this, ive just been working. here's a scout x reader smutfic, reader is gender neutral, enjoy!

"Uh, no way, babe."

"Not even for me?"

"Not a chance."

It was going to be a long night, that's for sure. You sighed, frustrated by his inflated ego. He had 'let' you tie him up, albeit reluctantly, in silky red ropes, but this is where he drew the line? Before you was that damned Bostonion, bound to a chair you stole from the dining room. He had squirmed and struggled and you practically had to wrestle him to get him in the shibari ropes, which was quite the opposite of sexy.

Scout had a big head on his shoulders, that much was known. Your boyfriend was prideful and independent, something he most definitely inherited from his dad, whoever that may be. You had wriggled him out of his clothes, which was a challenge within itself. You gave up halfway through and cut them off of him, which was met with several complaints. Now, before you, was a naked Scout, clearly embarrassed and painfully horny. His hard cock stood stiff, long and proud. The tip was a nice strawberry pink, the rest just slightly paler than the rest of him. He could try and act like he doesn't like the predicament, but you both knew he was just being bratty; the precum dripping from his aching tip always gave him away.

"Then I guess I have no choice but to leave you here, like this," you snided, turning away as a coy grin played upon your lips.

"You wouldn't dare," he huffed.

"I would."

Scout's expression dropped slightly his chest rising and falling even faster now. He knew the only way he was going to get any relief was if he submitted to you, if he begged for his release, but, God, was it humiliating. The base's thin walls surely didn't help either, you've had to cover his mouth on more than one occasion.

"C'mon, toots, just do it, we ain't got all day!" His voice came out far more desperate than he intended, almost needy. He swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Beg for it." You turned on your heel, taking the fleshlight from the table and squirting a good dollop of lube on the entrance of the toy. You held it, threateningly, waving it as you emphasized your point. You watched as his cheeks flushed a bit darker, his blush prominent as he bit on his bottom lip. It was an internal turmoil for him, but you knew just what buttons to press.

"What do I look like, a begger? I'm not beggin', babe, and that's that. Good luck gettin' me to break, I ain't breakin'!"

"Oh, you're sure of this, now?" You crept towards him, the light reflecting off the clear substance on the slit of the toy. You knelt down, looking up at him from in-between his toned thighs. You had to give it to him, he had nice legs. You especially were fond of the way they looked in shorts, his muscles threatening to split the fabric at the seams. In no way was he bulky, but he was sure an expert in the track and field department and it was obvious from his sculpted calves. You watched him like a hawk, as if he was prey for you to sink your talons in. You knew Scout liked when you made him feel small, even if he acted high and mighty on the battlefield.

He was about to retort again when you placed the lips of the toy around the head of his cock. He instinctively bucked, trying to get more friction than you were allowing. The toy remained still, engulfing just his leaking tip. It soon clicked for Scout what your plan was as he groaned in frustration when you took the fleshlight away entirely. His cock twitched slightly, clearly in dire need of release. You smirked evilly up at him, yet he couldn't find it in himself to meet your gaze. His baby blue eyes were screwed shut, his head slightly hanging to the side. His breathing pattern was erratic, something you only really saw when he was desperate... almost desperate enough to beg.

"Beg."

"Nono, I-I can't. I won't."

"Your loss," you feigned disappointment, taking the toy yet again and teasingly holding it above his needy cock. He, not-so-subtly, tried to thrust up into it, getting needier by the second as you watched him struggle in his rope confines. You blessed him momentarily by wrapping the silicone device around the head of his cock, and only the head of his cock. You repeated the same motion multiple times, the sound of it auctioning on and off his cock surrounding the atmosphere, before you took all stimulation away again. Scout's harmony of moans had turned into low whines as he trembled in his seat.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and give in?" You could hear the cogs turning in his head, as if weighing his decisions. The teasing was so much, it clouded his mind with a lustful fog. You knew he loved praise, it made him hard instantly when you complimented his skills during matches. He swalloaed his pride, speaking as if the words came to him naturally.

"Toots, please." His voice was meek, a stark contrast to how loud he normally was.

"Please what?" you urged him further, looking at him expectantly as you tease the tip of his cock by running it along the outside of the toy's slit.

"Fuck, I need it. I'm beggin' ya, there I said it!"

"Hmm," you hummed. You went through multiple scenarios in your head. If you kept this up, you could ruin him and make him cry from frustration... or you could let him have it, watch as he coats himself in his own cum. The latter sounded more appealing, seeing as he was right, you in fact did not have all day. So, you took his cock and pushed it into the entrance of the fake pussy, not stopping until he was to the hilt. This seemed to surprise him, as he threw his head back in ecstasy, a loud moan ringing out. You watched as he shuddered in his seat, the pressure encasing his cock.

Now, the real fun began. You started with long, deep strokes, not wanting to overwhelm him with pleasure just yet. You watched as he rocked his hips in sync as you built a steady rythm with the fleshlight, making sure he was balls deep everytime you pushed it back down.

"Oh, oh, please, faster. I need it, faster!" You looked up at him, watching as his eyebrows pinned together in pleasure, his eyes shut once again. You obeyed, picking up the pace. You took one of your hands off the toy, placing a hand on the underside of his balls and massaging gently. He panted, whines and mewls drawing from his throat as he neared his climax.

"How close?" you asked, perhaps a bit too late.

"Fuck—I'm gonna—!"

You took the toy off, finishing him off by jerking the length of his pretty cock with your hand. You watched in awe as he whimpered, moaning rather loudly. His cock shot ropes of his hot seed, his stomach tensing as he came all over himself. They landed on him sporadically, some of the shot going as far as his collarbone. He twitched, still painfully sensitive after cumming so hard. You took the liberty to suck whatever of his essence was on your hands off, licking up his torso and up across his flat chest, slurping down every last bit of him you could. He was still panting, shiny from sweat as he watched you with pitiful eyes.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Go to Hell," he joked, laughing softly as you placed one of your palms against his cheek, using your thumb to stroke the soft flesh beneath your fingertips. He leaned into it, cheek smushing slightly.

Oh, yeah, this was definitely happening again.

[thiccschief]

Coach's Big Secret, Pt. 3

Final part of the series.

I had a lot of fun with this one! Lmk what y'all think!

Contains rapid male weight gain, sexual themes, bloating. Slight inflation themes, but mostly weight gain.

Part one is here.

Coach smirks, “Now that’s what I like to hear.” He gives your belly a good slap and then goes back to pressing buttons on the remote. You feel the cream once again rushing into you, filling your belly.

“Ohhh fuck…” you moan. Once again the pressure slowly returns as you continue to swell bigger and bigger, all the while your body getting fatter and fatter. “I need more. I need to get massive!”

Coach has a devious grin on his face. “Don’t worry, fatboy. I’m not letting you off the machine until you’re nice and big. Just enjoy the ride.”

Coach walks over to a couch near the edge of the room and sits down, with one foot up on the cushion. He then reaches into his boxers and begins playing with his dick while he watches you grow. “Keep growing for me, bud. You’re doing great.”

“Yessir.” You watch the number on the display continue to climb as you grow. 330, 350, 370, as the numbers climb, your body continues to expand, the fat piling on rapidly now. 390, 400, 425…

You look in the mirror and see your belly hanging lower and lower with every pound, slowly eclipsing your dick. Even though it’s rock hard, your growing, puffy fat pad is swallowing most of it, turning you on even more. Your thighs and ass are massive, they jiggle as you take a couple steps to turn and look at your side in the mirror. You reach out and grab your massive fat tits, and let out a moan as your fingers graze your growing nipples.

“Glad you’re enjoying it, bud.” Coach says as he continues to spectate and stroke off on the couch. “They’re only going to get more sensitive from here on out.”

440… 460… 480… The numbers on the display keep climbing, and you feel every single pound added to your body. Your whole body is soft and plush to the touch, even your belly, which is tightly packed with cream beneath the layer of fat. “Fuck I’m getting big…” you say, your breathing becoming slightly more labored as you grow larger.

“Looking good, big guy. Seems like you’re adjusting well. I think you’re ready for the max speed.” Coach grins devilishly then presses a button on the remote. You instantly feel the pressure in your belly climb as the pump speeds up. “Fuck… Coach…” you manage to say. The feeling is almost overwhelming, your whole body desperately trying to adapt to the massive amount of calories flowing in.

As the pressure and pleasure take over, you’re completely focused on the intense sensation overwhelming your body. You feel your legs growing tired of supporting your increasing weight. You feel your cock throbbing against your plush fat pad and underbelly. You feel the massive nozzle still in your ass as the warm cream continues to flow into you. You tilt your head back and close your eyes for a moment, in a state of pure arousal and ecstasy. “It feels… so fucking good…” you manage to say between labored breaths.

Coach gets up off the couch and drops his boxers, revealing his thick, eight inch cock. He walks over and positions himself directly behind you, his hard dick pressing into your back. He reaches his strong arms around your belly and rubs it in circular motions, while leaning in next to your ear. In that low, gruff tone, he whispers “I know you can take more, fat boy. I know you want it. To submit, and let me pump you up.” His hands then work your way up to your fat tits and his fingers begin gently playing with your nipples.

Shivers run down your spine from the sensation of it all. “Fuuuck sir…” you say between the moans. You reach down to touch your dick but find it’s much harder to reach than before with your belly in the way, only turning you on more. You then feel Coach’s hand grab your arm and move your hand back up to your belly.

“Not yet, big guy. I’ll let you know when it’s time for that. Just relax and let me take care of it.” He says in a low tone.

“Yes sir.” You reply meekly. It’s all so fucking hot, you feel like just touching your dick would cause you to cum.

500… 530…

“Fuck sir… I’m getting… really *buuurp* bloated” you whimper. The increased pressure in your gut is so intense now, you feel like you can’t take any more.

“Relax and let it out big guy, nothing wrong with making room for more. But no more breaks this time, I know you can handle it.” Coach says as he stands in front of you, admiring your progress.

“Fuck… *BuuurRRp* I dunno Coach, I’m really fucking *bbUURRp* full…” As tight and full as your belly is right now, somehow being a bloated gassy mess is turning you on even more. Even as you continue to burp from the bloat, it turns you on knowing that you’re becoming Coach’s fat, gassy hog.

550… 570…

By this point your legs are becoming very tired from the increased weight they have to support. Simply remaining standing is starting to become very difficult. “Coach, I think I might need to *UuurP* sit down…”

“Sure thing, champ. At your size, I can imagine your legs are getting tired… But before you do that…” Coach smirks and walks over to the edge of the room and picks up what looks like a milking machine attached to yet another hose. He then walks over and lifts your underbelly and fat pad and attaches the machine to your now tiny dick. “Shiiiiit…” you moan as it begins to suck away.

“There we go. Alright, now for the chair.” Coach disappears into another room and returns with what appears to be the largest gaming chair you’ve ever seen. “Here you go, big guy. The biggest one they make!” He wheels the chair behind you and holds the cream hose as you sit down. The chair creaks as you sit and lean back. You can feel your belly rest on your thighs as it takes up much of your lap, your cock and the milking machine hidden from your view.

“Much better” you say with a sigh.

“Glad you’re comfortable. That chair is rated for 900 pounds, I wanted to make sure it can hold your fat ass when I’m done with you. I doubt you’ll be… getting up too often.” Coach grins as he gives your belly a hard slap.

590… 610… 640… 670…

Your belly now completely covers your lap, driving your massive thighs apart. Between your large, flabby arms and your massive tits in the way, you can barely reach your belly button and can’t reach your lower belly. Between being so bloated and gassy and the milking machine, you’re not doing much speaking at this point, all that’s coming out of your mouth are burps and moans of pleasure.

Lost in the sensation of it all, you don’t notice when Coach picks up the remote and turns off the pump. “Looks like you took all the cream I made for you today, hog. And I’ve gotta say… look at what it’s done to you. You’re so fucking huge now, you’re practically unrecognizable. Just wait until the team sees this. I think it’ll be a great motivator for them to stay fit. Once they see what uncontrollable gluttony will get them…” he walks over and slaps your belly, your whole body jiggling in recoil. “And, as promised, I’m not done with you yet fat boy.” Coach walks over to the table and picks up the lube. He then returns to your overfed belly and begins applying lube to your navel. “Shit that’s deep now…” he says, grinning.

Coach then begins lubing up his large manhood, and slowly slides it into your belly button. “Fuck big boy… this feels amazing…” He slowly begins thrusting in and out, your belly and tits shaking in recoil. “Shiiiiit sir…” you manage to get out.

He reaches for the remote and presses another button, causing the nozzle buried deep in your fat ass to vibrate, and the milking machine to go faster. You begin moaning louder, too lost in the pleasure to form any speech.

His thrusts are becoming more rapid and harder. “Shit big boy… look at you… look at how fucking fat I’ve made you… I know you fucking love it though… too fat to even get off without help… Fuuuuckkkk… so fat… all you can do… is submit to me…” Both your moans are becoming louder and more strained as you both near release. “You wanna get bigger fatass? You want that belly to… hang even fucking… lower? Those fatboy tits… to get even… bigger…!? Shiiiiittttt You’re gonna… Make me…”

“FUUUUUCKKK” you feel Coach’s hot, gushing seed explode from his dick and into your navel land all over your fat gut. “SHIT…. SIR….” You then also cum, your buried cock firing away into the milking machine.

You both remain still for a moment, panting as you recover from the intense climax. “So, ready for round two, big guy?”