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kurooh · 1 month ago

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❤︎ LOVE POTIONS ! — MY HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. VALENTINE’S DAY 2025 — aphrodisiacs are both a curse and a blessing. / midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, todoroki shoto, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, & takami keigo.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs / sex pollen, dirty talk, edging, brattiness, overstimulation, squirting, threesome, sickness but it’s sexy, breeding kink, unprotected sex.

xoxo, juno. everyone pretend it’s v-day 💘

MIDORIYA IZUKU.

⟡ getting hit by a villain’s quirk right before valentine’s day was not something you’d planned to do. somehow, the effects of the quirk end up being an early gift and also a curse.

fat tears race down izuku’s face, his hands grasping weakly at the sheets with each dizzying bounce of your ass onto his thighs. an hour has passed, spent in different positions around the house with less than five minute breaks in between—but no matter how many times you cum, the glowy pink ring around your irises doesn’t go away.

“too much, ‘s too much,” he slurs, words running into each other and becoming jumbled nonsense. “baby, i can’t, not anymore—shit! ‘m empty now, and it h-hurts so bad.”

“hurts?” you parrot disbelievingly, too deep under the spell to feel the burn in your thighs. “‘zuku, know what hurts?”

“no, i know,” he sobs, balls squeezing painfully as the familiar pressure returns to his cock. it’s familiar, but it’s not the same; there’s no cum involved, he’s been drained too dry to give you anything. “l-last time, please. i need a minute to, ngh, relax.”

it hurts. izuku’s cock is practically purple with overstimulation, but he’s too entranced to pull you off himself. when you’d arrived home, tugging at his belt and babbling about what had happened, izuku took a moment to consider if he had any notes on something like this.

villains with these types of quirks have always been rare, and it’s just his luck that one popped up before valentine’s day.

the couch groans from the combination of movement and weight on it, yawning with wear. izuku has never underestimated your strength or sex drive, but this . . you’re bouncy, and he’s wondering if the villain’s quirk enhanced your stamina too.

in a startling display of affection, you grab at his jaw and kiss away his tears, cooing sweet, sensual nothings into his ear. your voice is smooth when you tell him how good he’s doing, how sexy he looks when he’s whining so sweetly. just when he’s thinking it can’t get any better, you hit him where he’s weakest with a sultry murmur of want you to put a baby in me, izuku.

flustered, he can’t help but let out a squeal when you nip at his neck, kissing over previous bites and smatterings of freckles.

“do what you want with me,” he surrenders, verdant green eyes meeting your own. “hah, if that’s what you want, jus’ use me. fuck me, baby.”

BAKUGO KATSUKI.

⟡ you have the misfortune of tracking a villain with japan’s number one hero, the all too explosive dynamight. everything completely unravels during the confrontation, when katsuki’s rushing forward to deliver the final blow. the dastardly villain releases a thick, noxious smoke that fills the air with a sickening sweetness — despite all the coughing and hacking, he manages to subdue the villain until the police arrive, but you never make it back to the agency to regroup.

ridiculous, is all you can think as you’re being folded in half in the back of a company car that’s sneakily wedged in an alleyway. katsuki’s not-so-gentle teeth nip at the tender skin of your thighs, and he doesn’t think twice about the marks that are sure to show up by tomorrow.

“d-deeper, katsuki,” you writhe against the seats, too handsy for his liking. “please, it’s not deep eno—”

“shut it,” he grunts, scowling down at you. his usual expression doesn’t quite have the same effect it usually does, since it’s been mellowed out by the villain’s aphrodisiac like quirk. “don’t you dare tell me how to fuck, got it?”

a bratty huff escapes you, and you make a show of rolling your eyes at him, seemingly unimpressed. “i wouldn’t have to if you’d just do it right. oh, but who am i to judge the number one?”

a vein bulges from his forehead as he listens, crimson eyes seething silently while you continue to lay it on thick. “i guess dynamight can fuck however he wants, even if it’s subpar—”

in an instant, katsuki’s hand is on your throat and applying just enough pressure to force out a gasp from you. that teasing and talking back worked—now he’s really about to come undone, show you just how strong the number one pro can really be.

“can’t take that back now, can you? if you think you can insult me and order me around, oh,” katsuki grinds his teeth, pressing your knees into your chest without taking a moment to appreciate the pretty moan that leaves you. “fuck, you’ve got another thing coming. shut your mouth.”

“make me.”

he can’t seem to recall a time where he’s ever been this turned on—that aphrodisiac quirk’s got nothing on the way you talk to him, challenge him in a way that nobody has before.

katsuki draws his hips back, slow and deliberate in each movement. you were right, he wasn’t giving you his all; but now, he will, and he won’t stop until you eat your words. deeper? harder? faster? if that’s what you’re asking for, he’ll give it to you.

you watch breathlessly, mesmerized by the frustrated scrunch of his face, all because he can’t stop replaying your words in his head. a harsh slap to your clit snaps you out of your daze the moment it lands, stinging terribly.

“let’s work up to that, alright? you’re going to—”

“what if i don’t, katsuki?” you tip your chin up at him, looking down your nose at him. “then what?”

another slap, this time with a little more strength behind it. he disregards everything you just said, getting ready to give you an explosive orgasm you’ll have to work hard for.

“that’s what. now, let’s try that again—you’ll be good and count each slap, unless you want me to spank this slutty pussy raw,” satisfied by the responding clench of your cunt, he arches a brow and smirks. “your choice, brat.”

TODOROKI SHOTO.

⟡ with a new, unstable virus spreading rapidly through japan, scientists are racing to develop a cure. it seems to act like the standard flu, but it affects quirk users differently—shoto ends up with an unusual kind of fever.

“ah, ‘m cumming, sho,” cum squirts from your pussy like a waterfall, and everything’s so overwhelming that you unintentionally push his cock out. “good, ‘s so fucking good.”

sweat coats his face, clinging to the rough scar on shoto’s left side. panting, he sucks in a breath, grasping around for his swollen cock.

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks once his tip slides through your sticky folds and makes your back jolt off the bed, “it’s just—shit, it’s not enough.”

“a-again? i, hah, don’t know if that’s a good—”

shoto shakes his head, shivering as a thin layer of frost appears on his right cheek; it sparkles brilliantly before melting into droplets of water that drip from his jaw. “i’m still burning up,” it’s completely out of bounds, but the low rasp of his sickly voice scratches an itch in your brain. “see, lovey? can’t even use my quirk to fix it.”

a sigh escapes you, and you spread your trembly thighs one more time. “i might be too tired to drive you to the hospital after this,” you warn.

“i know, but baby,” gratefully, shoto pushes forward, burying his cock to the hilt inside you. his warm hand settles on your lower belly to add some pressure, gearing you up for another explosive orgasm. “i don’t wanna be like this when we go to the hospital.”

he flushes darkly with embarrassment, and the mental image of a tortured shoto rutting into a hospital bed as waves of the fever’s severe effects overwhelm him is enough to make you soften.

once he starts to thrust, developing a rhythm that would put your own fingers to shame, his mouth drops open and he’s babbling incoherently. “ . . always so fucking hot around you, baby. i-it’s not my fault you’re so—haa, shit—so perfect, making me burn up whenever you’re not looking.”

and because being this deep inside you is as close as he can get to heaven, shoto sees no reason to hold back on the honest praise. he’s always been a little shy to express himself during sex, mouth drying up whenever he tries to say something rather dirty, but not now. since his brain is being fried by the heat at the moment, he won’t feel any embarrassment.

“sho, right there,” a breath is punched out of your lungs, and your nails scratch at his shoulders each time his tip kisses your sweet spot. “oh god, ‘m gonna make a mess again!”

his cock twitches and he moans your name, only egging you on. “can’t wait to taste it, darling.”

you fall off the edge, his words serving as the final push. euphoria curls through you, cresting like a wave until the sensitivity becomes too much, bringing you back to earth. abs clenching, shoto pulls out to cover your stomach in white.

in an instant, shoto’s temperature drops. quietly, he shivers against you, huffing into your neck.

“i want to stay like this before we leave.”

“you’ve got ice forming rapidly on your back, sho.”

“it’ll melt if i’m cuddling with you . . could you also rub my back? maybe i just need to sleep it off.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

⟡ eijirou listened to you specifically tell him NOT to eat the wrapped cookies you had in the fridge and when you left, he did exactly that.

“babe, baby, you feel so good,” cum races down his fingers in creamy rivulets, puddling at the base of his cock. caught up in his fantasy, eijirou flicks his wrist faster, hoping with all his heart to imitate the hot squeeze of your cunt. “s-so pretty when you take me, always so fuckin’ beautiful.”

his voice cracks just as the door opens, and your purse falls to the floor. your boyfriend is spread out on the bed, flushed feverishly and gasping out your name like he’s delirious—it would be the perfect scene to come home to if you didn’t spot two torn cookie wrappers near him.

“eijirou,” you speak his name lowly, catching his eyes and raising a brow. he’s not sure if he should feel awkward or turned on because of your scolding tone, so he just swallows dryly and looks toward you with hooded eyes. “already forgot the speech i gave you? why’d you eat the cookies?”

shame creeps up his neck and makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. grasping for a response, eijirou decides to question you right back. “why’d you have sex cookies in the fridge?”

“they were a surprise for valentine’s!”

oh.

now he really feels dumb for spoiling your plans. perhaps if he hadn’t been so hungry, so greedy, he wouldn’t be embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze.

but the feeling doesn’t last long—your tough face drops into something more sultry: doe eyes and an upturned quirk of your lips that’s sure to finish him.

the mattress sinks under your weight, and you scoot beside him with a self satisfied smile. it’s small and quiet, but a voice in the back of his head tells him maybe you wanted this to happen; you certainly don’t look too upset about it.

“no way, baby,” a hiss escapes him when you slap his cum-stained hand away from his cock, instead choosing to replace them with your own. “am i dreaming? mrs. red riot, are you—”

his narration throws you off, and you choke just kissing his tip. you know eijirou’s surprised and eternally grateful, but damn. “mr. red riot, you’d be quiet if you wanted me to.”

“sorry,” he says earnestly, tensing up to hide the fact that he’s shaking like a leaf when you finally take him in your mouth. “i’ve just—” he inhales sharply as you slowly, torturously take him inch by inch. “i’ve been waiting s-so long for you to come home, babe.”

you swallow, throat squeezing tight around his cock, and eijirou’s clean hand flies to the back of your head, hovering precariously. “i’m crazy about you, all day every day, and the cookies made it worse. ‘m sorry for spoiling the surprise, i didn’t mean to—haa, w-what’re you doing to me? oh, you’re gonna make me—”

it doesn’t take long for obscene slurps and occasional gags to fill the room as you suck eijirou’s cock, spoiling him with each languid bob of your head. it’s too much, and the tension grows thicker in his gut, setting his insides ablaze with anticipation.

he’s hurtling toward his high, jerking his hips up and shamelessly preparing to fill up your throat this quickly—but then, you push yourself off of him. a shudder ripples through his body, and he throws you a pained, wide eyed look.

“why’d you..? baby?”

you motion for him to lay on his back, and he can see the gears in your head turning behind a wicked smile. “might as well draw it out, hm?”

“you’re gonna milk me?”

he’s so cute . .

you want to see him crying.

you hum, “only until you’re begging for me to stop.”

KAMINARI DENKI, ft. SERO HANTA

⟡ an undercover sting at a mysterious village with your work partners doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. the village, out in the far country, has been reported as the one place with the highest levels of quirk activity in japan. little did you know about the fact that this place is home to infectious pollen that makes its way into people via the air, or about its temporary effects on people . .

“what the fuck,” you moan, vision blurry between their faces and intermittent flashes of light. “there’s no way it’s from a plant, it can’t be—”

hanta’s tongue darts out to lick the salt away from his upper lip, and he points a finger toward a passage in the encyclopedia. “the symptoms are, ngh, the same.”

one of your hands works denki’s cock while the other shakily flips through an encyclopedia of germs and the like; hanta’s buried to the hilt inside of you, tan cheeks flushed with exertion.

“can’t you just read after?” denki unhelpfully suggests, blinking back a few tears while sparks of electricity fly off from his blond hair. “let’s just fix—yeah, baby, jus’ like that—fix the problem now and figure it out later.”

“shut it, denks,” hanta rolls his eyes, rocking his hips into you. despite the fact that the three of you are totally naked and in the middle of some kind of threesome, you’re researching what apparently caused this surge of uncontrollable arousal.

things began not long after you arrived in the village, where everything had looked unsuspecting and normal. surely there was a villain lurking around somewhere . . ? why else would there be so much unusual activity, enough to alert the authorities?

“look, they f-found something similar in america,” hanta’s voice wavers uncharacteristically, his own high racing through him with such intensity he doubles over.

“forget about the book,” denki’s begging while pressing dazed kisses to your tits, one hand tossing the book aside and slipping between your trembling thighs. “c’mon, babe. show us what you look like when you cum.”

perhaps this is something to be selfish about — when will an opportunity to fuck your hot coworkers come around again? hanta’s everything you’ve been daydreaming about, with a muscular physique sharp enough to have been cut from stone. denki’s just as attractive, though his features are softer, the result of his constant snacking while on the job or in the agency.

hanta nods in assent, already trailing over the edge. “want you to gush all over me, baby.”

thrashing under denki’s fingers, it momentarily occurs to you that maybe they’re a little too experienced. neither of them were concerned with a threesome when it was suggested, and there’s no mistakes in their almost synchronized movements.

just watching your eyes flutter and roll back is enough to make denki cum with a moan of your name as his cock sprays white. hanta’s pupils probably dilate a hundred times their size at the erotic sight, and his hips begin to stutter as heat races up his spine.

denki, shaking profusely, musters his voice and maintains his hurried pace. “g-good girl, go on ‘n let it out.”

since stepping foot into the village and inhaling that damn pollen, the pro hero’s been getting realistic flashes of thoughts he’s kept locked away for some time. you, on your knees, looking up at him like you’re ready to do more than just please. you, with your pretty eyes full of tears as you lose your mind beneath him.

an orgasm stronger than the lustful effects of any aphrodisiac tears through you, and your cunt bears down so hard it forces out hanta’s own high as well. with all his might, he tries to resist the surge of weakness that hits him and fails—he collapses on top of you, hugging you closely and burying his face in your neck.

loosely, your jaw hangs open and breathy gasps leave your mouth. denki’s sparking with electricity beside you and simultaneously struggling to get it under control. a single yellow spark flies off his body and mildly electrocutes hanta, snapping him back to reality. he jerks against you, sounding exhausted.

“uh. so, um, what’re we supposed to report when we get back?”

TAKAMI KEIGO.

⟡ bless his heart. for valentine’s, he decides to be a silk heart-shaped box of japan’s most expensive chocolate for you. he’d been so focused on finding your favorite flavors along with new ones that he didn’t even realize that he’d purchased sex chocolate.

“it hurts, dovey. it’s s-so painful.”

since sharing the box of chocolates with you, keigo’s been reduced to a pathetic mess who can’t seem to stop shaking when you just barely touch him. vermilion feathers puff up and out at his back, his messy wings conveying the way he’s crumbling inside.

you’re just as hot, skin crawling with a lustful itch only keigo can scratch for you. the frenetic beating of his wings whips up cold gusts of wind stronger than any ceiling fan, and not a single goosebump rises on your skin.

“right there, kei,” you moan, tears gathering in your eyes as he continuously hits your sweet spot. “oh my god, don’t stop.”

as if he’d ever plan to.

he hiccups, face flushed and hair tousled like he’s just returned from some mission out in the wild. softly, with the barest note of urgency, keigo whines out your name and a request.

“dovey, c’mon,” his voice cracks halfway through his sentence, shattered with unmistakable pleasure. “just tell me what you want, and i’ll, ah, i’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

keigo’s entire body thrums with the need, the purpose, to please you, and his own pleasure hinges on you and your praise. sure enough, you cry out to him, words saccharine and addicting.

“make me cum, kei,” and he doesn’t need any further instruction, not when he knows your body this well. smooth fingers slip between your thighs and work your clit, causing your back to arch when he applies just enough pressure to send electricity through your nerves.

you’re wrapping around keigo’s waist, drawing him in and breaking down his self control easily.

“want me to fill up this pussy, baby? i can do it again and again—” he punctuates his words with harsh thrusts that amplify the clap of skin against skin almost as much as a quirk could, “while you take it like you were made to.”

quaking beneath him, you nod frantically, as if those are the words you’ve been waiting to hear. while he was so vividly illustrating the scene, his wings unconsciously began to wrap around your bodies, a sign of how much he wants it too.

you gasp, eyes squeezing shut with the last image being keigo’s face, twisted in ecstasy and scrunched with concentration. “gonna—‘m gonna cum, kei!”

“with me, dovey, please,” sweat pours down the sides of his face as the heated bliss tightens in his gut, applying an unbearable pressure to his cock. “let me feel you cum around me, ughhh.”

sloppily, keigo presses open mouthed kisses to your lips, and a delighted moan escapes him when you kiss back. your lips are soft against his, and your tongue carries the sweet taste of valentine’s chocolates, the expensive ones he’d come home with earlier.

with his orgasm creeping up on him and dulling his surroundings, a brief thought occurs to him about those chocolates. the sales lady had raised a brow when he filled up the customizable box with many pink chocolates that had been sitting in a case separate from the rest.. no, that can’t be right. surely this is the common valentine’s day effect on couples—it can’t be from the chocolate, can it?

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reiderwriter · 4 months ago

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☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman.

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either.

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart.

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie.

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-”

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!”

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels.

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-”

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?”

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-”

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.”

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls.

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!”

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him.

No such apology came.

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.”

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-”

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.”

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered.

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell.

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi.

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing.

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up.

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away.

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book.

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused.

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment.

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?”

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door.

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?”

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche.

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat.

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip.

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.”

“Right… right…”

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch.

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours.

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth.

“So?” he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away.

“Why are you really here, YN?”

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second.

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.”

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… Y/N, I-”

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name.

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out.

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.”

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions.

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.”

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-”

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick.

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all.

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before.

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-”

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you.

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now.

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close.

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position.

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal.

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?”

You shrugged and looked away almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night.

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.”

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in.

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.”

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.”

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?”

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well.

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips.

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again.

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret.

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.”

“So you did yourself?”

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off.

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation.

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?”

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head.

“He didn't want me to.”

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead.

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world.

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken.

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter.

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down.

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear.

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that.

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend.

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch.

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically.

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly.

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket.

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access.

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.”

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass.

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive.

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.”

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you.

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra.

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh.

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh, still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants.

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you.

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for.

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time.

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-”

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap.

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure.

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-”

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you.

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk.

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax.

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face.

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure.

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure.

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him.

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high.

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close.

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue.

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear.

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.”

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist.

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss a sweet, soft one.

“Yes.” He kissed you again and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again.

“H-He-”

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.”

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot.

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock.

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could.

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again.

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release.

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time.

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last.

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access.

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.”

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time.

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.”

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.”

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.”

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position.

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more.

“Where should I cum Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again.

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too.

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?”

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already.

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away.

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him.

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further.

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore.

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed.

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.”

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.”

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh.

You didn't say anything but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum.

“You're on birth control, right?”

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well.

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him.

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently.

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.”

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again.

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again.

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away.

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply and you lost your breath again.

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.”

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other.

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ds-angel1 · 1 month ago

Text

TEACHERS LITTLE PET

cw: SMUT(18+), teacher x student relationship, hitting it from the back(in the classroom), big age gap(ages aren´t specified), reader is a senior, i´m not american and have no idea how the school system works so please just smile and nod

wc: ~ 5.1k

a/n: tell me what you think of this dynamic and if you want more cause i have some ideas!! also this is the longest fic i´ve ever written, not my best work but atleast i managed to write something?? keep in mind i had a fever when i wrote this

Rafe had no idea how he ended up here.

Well, if he was being honest, he did. He just hated admitting it.

He hated kids. Teenagers weren’t much better. If they weren’t whining about something trivial, they were loud, obnoxious, and bursting with opinions they thought were groundbreaking. And high schoolers? They were the worst of the lot, caught in that unbearable limbo between childhood and adulthood, convinced they knew everything and that the world had been tailor-made to inconvenience them.

He hated his job, too. But after his father had all but shoved him into college, and he had somehow managed to scrape together an art history degree through a chaotic jumble of barely thought-out course selections, he needed a paycheck. He needed something, anything, to make use of the four years he had spent drowning in essays about the Renaissance and lectures on the symbolism of Baroque architecture.

And there it was, a high school history teacher.

He was fairly certain the school had been desperate. Desperate enough to hire the first applicant who could string a coherent sentence together about the American Revolution. And lucky him, that applicant had been Rafe.

The school itself was unremarkable. Small, under 400 students, just two squat brick buildings separated by a weather-beaten schoolyard that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and teenage apathy. Five hours from the Outer Banks, he could visit home whenever he wanted. Not that he did. There was nothing left for him there, nothing worth the drive, and frankly, there was nothing for him here either.

His days were a loop, a monotonous, uninspired cycle of standing in front of rows of disinterested, hormonal teenagers, rattling off lessons about long-dead historical figures far more interesting than any of his students would ever bother to realize. He graded half-assed essays, endured halfhearted excuses about missing assignments, and spent more time than he cared to admit staring at the clock, willing the hours to pass. Then, when the final bell rang, he trudged back to his apartment, a bare, impersonal space that he never bothered to decorate. No photos, no art, and no signs that anyone lived there. Just a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table that mostly went unused.

And then there were the truly miserable days, the ones where he was roped into subbing for freshman P.E., a biweekly exercise in self-inflicted torture. Half the girls refused to break a sweat, acting as if running a single lap would somehow lead to their untimely demise. The other half of the class consisted of cocky, over-competitive boys who treated dodgeball like a blood sport. He spent most of those periods standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, blowing the whistle when things got too heated, and watching the clock even more desperately than usual.

It was a dull, uninspired existence; monotonous, predictable, and entirely void of passion. He lived his life the way his students listened to the outdated documentaries he played in class: half-awake, uninterested, just going through the motions because it had to be done.

Until you walked into his class.

The first day of school after summer break always carried a certain energy; electric, restless, filled with voices overlapping in an unfiltered rush of stories from the last few weeks. As Rafe pushed open the door to his classroom, that familiar wave of chatter hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Laughter, exclamations, the scrape of chairs against the floor—it was all as chaotic as he had expected.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way to his desk, setting his thermos down on the bleached oak surface before picking it up again almost instinctively, taking a slow sip before returning it to its place. His fingers moved on autopilot, retrieving his school-issued laptop from his bag, pressing the power button, and waiting for the screen to glow to life. His gaze lifted, sweeping across the students, his students. The same faces he’d taught last year, now a little older, a little different, officially juniors.

But one face wasn’t familiar.

You.

Rafe spotted you almost immediately, sitting in the third row, right by the window where the morning sky stretched in endless hues of soft blue. You were listening—well, nodding, at least—to Amanda, whose mouth moved a mile a minute. He didn’t have to hear her know she was spewing an endless stream of conversation; Amanda was known for filling any silence, anytime, anywhere. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was on you.

A dark navy skirt draped over your thighs, the fabric shifting in gentle waves with every slight movement. Your top, a delicate white spaghetti strap with tiny baby blue flowers, hugged your frame, lace tracing the neckline, a small bow nestled right at its center. A beige cardigan hung loosely over your shoulders, two buttons left undone as if they had never been intended for use in the first place. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, not rigid, not loose, just… effortless. A few strands framed your face, soft wisps that moved when you turned your head, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost ethereal.

And sure, you looked beautiful, undeniably so. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way your eyes flickered around the room, quietly observing, absorbing. The way your lips parted slightly every so often, murmuring the occasional “Uh-huh” or “Yeah” in response to Amanda’s nonstop chatter, even as your mind seemed elsewhere. There was something in your expression, an almost hesitant curiosity, a quiet awareness, that made Rafe’s fingers pause over the laptop’s keyboard.

He had seen many faces in this classroom. Some familiar, some forgettable.

But yours?

Yours was impossible to ignore.

"Uh— okay, let’s get started. Settle down," Rafe called out to the students, his voice steady despite the chaos. The room buzzed with post-summer chatter, desks scraping against the floor as students found their seats. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to exhale. The first day back was always like this, full of energy, distractions, and the struggle to rein everyone in. But today, there was another battle brewing beneath the surface, one he wasn’t prepared for.

He hoped that once the lesson began, he could shift his focus, and force himself to look anywhere but at you. He clung to that hope like a lifeline, but the moment he commanded their attention, he had yours.

And when your eyes locked onto him, he was trapped. Hypnotized. His breath hitched, pulse stuttering in a way it had no right to. For what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t shake the invisible thread tightening between you. His fingers curled into his palm, nails pressing against his skin.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to snap out of it, dragging his attention back to the board. He took a measured breath, gripping the chalk like it might anchor him. "Alright, I know you’re all still in vacation mode, but we need to get talking about history."

The usual grumbling came, but it was muted, fading as students settled into their seats. Good. The routine was safe. The routine was predictable. The routine wouldn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

"Before we dive in, we have a new student joining us this year from the senior class," he announced, keeping his tone even, impersonal. His gaze flickered back to you, just for a second, just long enough to acknowledge you without giving himself away. "Would you introduce yourself?"

A brief silence. You hesitated, shifting under the weight of so many eyes before murmuring your name.

"Great," Rafe said, far too quickly. He cleared his throat, turning back to the board. "So, what do we know about American history from the Industrial Revolution to the modern age?"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of discussion, textbook readings, and writing exercises. Normally, this was when he’d catch up on grading or chip away at whatever administrative work he had. But today? No. Today, his focus splintered, frayed at the edges every time he felt your presence in the room.

His eyes kept drifting.

To you.

It was reckless. Stupid. He knew it was wrong, knew exactly how it would look if anyone noticed. He wasn’t blind, he’d found students attractive before, but it had always been a fleeting thing, a passing thought dismissed before it could take root. A moment, nothing more.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just acknowledging that you were pretty, though you were. Incredibly so. This wasn’t just an absent-minded recognition of beauty. No, this was something deeper. Something that twisted in his gut and settled in his bones, something that made his breath catch when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Something dangerous.

His fingers raked through his hair as he stared down at his keyboard, typing nothing. He could tell himself it was just a dry spell, that he’d been avoiding distractions for too long, that it was simply physical. But that would be a lie.

Because it wasn’t just about desire.

It was about you.

And that was a problem.

The shrill chime of the bell split the air, and the classroom erupted into motion. Notebooks snapped shut, chairs scraped against the tile, and a low hum of voices swelled as students shoved books into backpacks, eager to escape into the chaotic freedom of lunch. You swung your bag over your shoulder, weaving through the shifting maze of desks, your focus locked on the door. The cafeteria was called, an oasis of noise and anonymity where you could blend in, and where no one was analyzing your every move.

But just as you stepped forward, a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

"Hey."

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight, like an anchor dropping into the sea of departing students. Something in the tone made your stomach twist. You turned, pulse hitching slightly, to find Mr. Cameron watching you from behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, calm but not necessarily kind.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron?" you asked, hesitating.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was phrased like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t. He gave a small nod toward the door as the last few stragglers trickled out, a silent instruction.

With a quiet sigh, you nudged the door shut behind them, the click of the latch sealing you in. The classroom, so full of life just seconds ago, now felt cavernous, the quiet pressing in around you. You hesitated before making your way back to his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Mr. Cameron leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, fingers steepled together. "So… I wanted to talk to you about last year." His voice was measured, and neutral, but something about it put you on edge. "You were in Ms. Wallace’s class, right?" His eyes flicked to a sheet of paper in front of him, though you were certain he already knew the answer.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Mhm." A simple answer for something far more complicated. Your history with Ms. Wallace wasn’t just a class; it was a long, exhausting battle, a relentless tug-of-war between frustration, unmet expectations, and a sinking feeling of inevitability.

Mr. Cameron studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Can you tell me what didn’t work? Was it her? The material? Her teaching style? Or was it something on your end?" His head tilted slightly, voice smooth, probing.

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. "I guess I was just… kind of unfocused last year," you admitted, your voice barely above a murmur.

"Mm." He hummed, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Just last year?"

Your stomach tightened.

"Because judging by today’s lesson, it seems like you're still a little… distracted. More interested in doodles than in history, huh?"

Heat crept up your neck, shame pooling in your chest. Your gaze dropped to the floor as if looking anywhere else might soften the weight of his words.

"You’d think," he continued, his tone carrying the faintest edge, "that after the school let you pass the year and only required you to retake this class, you'd put in a little more effort."

His words landed like a slap, sharp, deliberate. He knew exactly how unfair that was. Knew how it would make you feel. And yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t stop himself.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You want to pass, yes?”

His voice was low, almost teasing, each word curling around you like smoke. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his desk, dark eyes locked onto yours with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, and gave a quick, eager nod.

Rafe watched you for a lingering second, dragging it out just long enough to make you shift where you stood. Then, with an exhale that was almost too casual, he pushed himself up from his chair. He didn’t simply stand, he moved. Slow. Deliberate. A quiet display of control as he braced one hand against the edge of his desk, his weight settling into a lean. The aged wood creaked under him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

His focus remained entirely on you.

“And what do you think I could do to help you achieve that?”

Smooth. Measured. But there was something else beneath his tone, something just sharp enough to catch. Playfulness, maybe. Amusement. Or something more dangerous.

His gaze flickered, sweeping over you in a way that felt too quick at first, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to act on. But then, you saw it. The hesitation. The way his throat bobbed, how his fingers flexed at his sides before he rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to shake off whatever had just slipped through the cracks. But it was too late.

You had seen.

And by the way, his jaw clenched a second later, the way his lips pressed together, you knew he realized it too.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Instead, your fingers fidgeted with each other, twisting and untwisting, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The silence between you stretched, thick and electric, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you dared name but both of you felt.

Rafe inhaled deeply, the sound filling the quiet space between you. The air itself seemed different now, charged, like something unseen was pressing in, urging one of you to break.

He let the breath out slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that somehow felt… controlled. Intentional. And then, his eyes moved again.

This time, there was no rush. No flicker of hesitation.

Now, he studied you.

It was slow, almost methodical, th

6e kind of look that made heat crawl up the back of your neck, the kind that lingered just long enough in places that made you second-guess every inch of yourself. When his gaze reached your thighs, a nervous jolt ran through you. Almost instinctively, you gripped the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, your knuckles turning white.

A nervous habit.

One he noticed.

One that made his eyes darken, not dramatically, not in some exaggerated, obvious way, but just enough. Just enough for you to catch the shift, to see the amusement flicker across his face like the hint of a smirk he didn’t fully let through.

“Hm?” The questioning hum he let out brought you back to reality, back to his question, and back to the answer that you had yet to give.

“Um… I- I don’t know…” you stammered out.

His eyes flick down again, taking in your upper body, eyes practically circling in on your chest. As if your body has a mind of its own, you straighten your back, puffing out your chest.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The air between you had thickened, dense with something unspoken, something dangerous. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow, almost pensive as if he were considering something he shouldn’t be. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh but carried no humor, just tension.

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now, quieter like he was testing the waters, like he was trying to figure out how far this would go before one of you came to your senses.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, your skin burning where his gaze traced. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast, something that couldn’t be undone.

His fingers tapped once, twice against the desk, a steady rhythm that contradicted the barely concealed restraint in his posture. His body language told two different stories, one of hesitation, and another of inevitability. He was too close, and yet he wasn’t moving away.

Your breath hitched as he shifted, his body angling just slightly towards yours. It was a minuscule movement, one that could’ve been mistaken for a simple change in weight, but you knew better. It was deliberate. Calculated.

“You want to pass this class?”

The question was a mere whisper, his voice dipped in something that made your stomach twist. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding, too fast, too eager.

His lips twitched, almost smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He leaned in just enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and musky, something entirely him.

“Then you’re gonna have to focus.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down your spine. His words weren’t inappropriate, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice wrapped around each syllable, made them feel like something else entirely.

Your knees felt weak, your heart pounding against your ribcage as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. The classroom, once suffocating in its quiet, now felt electric, charged with a current that neither of you dared acknowledge aloud.

Rafe exhaled again, this time slower, measured. His hand moved, not towards you, not touching, but close enough that you felt the shift in air between you.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath shuddered. “I—”

His head tilted slightly, watching, waiting. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable but entirely focused on you.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting something. A beat of silence stretched between you.

And then, Rafe moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t forceful. It was a slow descent, a moment stretched into eternity. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the ghost of his breath against your skin, close enough that your lips parted in anticipation before your mind could catch up.

He paused—just for a fraction of a second, just enough to give you the chance to pull away. Just enough to make it clear that if this happened, it was your choice, too.

But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

And before you could let a single other breath out, his lips met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. A barely-there brush that sent a sharp current through your veins, igniting something dangerous and uncontainable in your chest.

He exhaled against your mouth, and in that moment it seemed like something in him snapped.

His hand found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your cardigan as he pulled you just slightly closer. His other hand lifted, skimming along your jaw before his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so.

The kiss deepened, slow but demanding, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting another spark beneath your skin. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, taking his time like he wanted to memorize the exact way you fit against him. He knew this was a mistake but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Your hands found his chest, pressing lightly against the fabric of his dress shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair at the contact, his grip on your waist firm but careful, as if he was anchoring himself as much as he was anchoring you.

The sharp sound of footsteps in the hallway shattered the fragile haze that had settled between you two, yanking you both back into reality.

Rafe was the first to react, pulling away, but only just. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. His fingers, warm and possessive, lingered at your waist a second too long before he finally, finally, let go, stepping back just enough to put a sliver of space between you. But not enough to erase what had just happened.

His eyes searched yours, dark blue depths swirling with something unreadable, something dangerous. His exhale was sharp, tension coiling through his jaw as he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping at the strands like he was trying to ground himself.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and uneven. Then, with more force, “Fuck. Fuck.”

His eyes shut tight, his head shaking in frustration as if the motion itself could erase the last few minutes. When they opened again, they were filled with something even more intense. In two strides, he was in front of you again, his hands gripping your upper arms, fingertips pressing just a little too hard, just enough to make you feel trapped between the heat of his body and the reality of the situation.

“This didn’t happen, okay?” His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor to it like he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself. His grip tightened before loosening again, as if he was at war with himself as if he didn’t trust his restraint.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, your breath uneven. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, and something in him cracked. His hands slid down your arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his fingertips finally settled at your hipbones, pressing in lightly, his resolve wavered even more.

“This…” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

His voice was different now, lower, more raw. His fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of your skirt as his mind spiraled, thoughts tumbling into a chaotic storm. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t like him. He had met you, his student, his goddamn student, less than an hour ago, and he had already crossed every possible line. And yet, even knowing that he wasn’t pulling away. He was moving closer.

His hands ghosted up your sides, the touch sending shivers across your skin. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Can you do that for me?”

If someone had asked you that morning how you thought your first day of senior year would go, never in a million years would you have said this? Sure, you’d heard the whispers in the halls, and seen the way every girl’s eyes lingered when he walked past. Mr. Cameron was the forbidden fantasy, the subject of countless rumors and stolen glances. But he was also your teacher. And he had just kissed you.

You knew it was wrong. You should run, tell someone, do the right thing. And yet, as your mind battled between logic and desire, only one thought rose above the rest: he had kissed you.

Mr. Cameron, the man every girl in school lusted after, had kissed you. Had he done this before? Had he chosen others before you? Or was this different?

Even as doubt twisted itself into a tight knot in your stomach, you found yourself nodding, unable to speak, afraid your voice would betray you with the high-pitched, breathy sound of a girl who had just been touched by fire and didn’t want to step away.

“Good.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost more breath than sound. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating, but you didn’t want to breathe anything else in. His fingers glided upward again, teasing over your waist, grazing over your ribs, leaving a trail of heat that made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Then, gently, with a tenderness that contradicted the fevered hunger in his eyes, he cupped your face. For one impossible moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, that he was going to throw every bit of logic and control out the window and claim your lips as he had minutes ago. But instead, he tilted your head slightly, his breath warm against your throat.

Then his lips were on your neck, barely touching, soft and slow.

A sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, escaped you, and his hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you, making you feel small under his grasp. His mouth moved lower, pressing another kiss, and then another, each one more deliberate, more intoxicating than the last.

You barely registered the moment he turned you around, your back now facing him. Your hands trembled as they found purchase against the smooth surface of his desk, the dark wood cool beneath your fingertips.

Then, with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver racing down your spine, he placed his hands on your thighs, massaging them slowly, possessively.

His voice, low and dripping with something dark and dangerous, ghosted over your ear.

“Stay quiet for me.”

You sucked in a deep, long breath, letting your head fall and your eyes close.

The feel of the Rafe´s fingers slid under the skirt and the pads of his fingers started tracing along your panties, each tiny motion making your body stutter and tremble.

“You´re… you´re real special, you know that?” He spoke from behind you but you couldn’t respond, still holding your breath as if letting out the air would make the situation you found yourself in truly real.

When he had had enough of feeling the warm, twisted feeling in his stomach as he let his fingers glide over your clothed cunt, he pushed your underwear aside with his thumb, letting the tip of his index finger dip into your already quivering hole. The action intensified the feeling and buried it even deeper in his gut.

As if a shock of lightning had hit you, you bolted away from his hand a few inches, clenching your thighs tightly as you finally relieved your lungs of the air they were keeping trapped.

“M- Mr. Cameron…” You started to sputter out but stopped when you felt long, gruff fingers curl around the sides of your panties before pulling the black lace material down tantalizingly slow.

A cold rush of air hit your most intimate body part, making you gasp and pant. When you heard rustling and what you could only assume was the clink of your teacher´s belt, you shut your mouth and froze as you waited for the man´s next move.

“Listen,” he whispered your name like it was a sin he committed and you were a pastor, “You understand that this stays between us, yes?” His large hands massaged your ass and thighs, cursing under his breath when he saw how soaked you were.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement. You weren´t sure why. He was your teacher and by the looks of it and the feel of his hands on you, apparently a pedophile. But god did you want this; you wanted it, him, so bad.

Before you could so much as even let another thought pass through your head, he thrust forward, burying his cock inside you as deep as he could with multiple rapid movements of his hips. You moaned and practically screamed, the sounds of pleasure from you making Rafe reach around and cover practically half of your entire face.

“Fuck, you´re so tight,” he muttered sharply next to your ear as he started moving inside of you again, dragging his hips back only to snap them back forward less than a moment later.

“You like that, huh? Like being fucked by your teacher. Little teachers pet.”

He knew this was wrong, you were his student, and you probably didn´t even actually want this but for some fucked up reason that made it even better for Rafe, and as the thought crossed his mind it only made him thrust into you faster. At that point, you were damn near choking and sobbing into his hand, his palm making it hard for you to get a deep breath of fresh air in.

With a sense of panic taking over you, you tried to move your hands off of the desk to claw him off of your face but your attempts proved futile when Rafe pushed you flat onto the desk, forcing you to take his cock even deeper.

His free hand which wasn´t taking away your ability to breathe, found its way between your legs, his index, and middle fingers drawing squiggly circles on your clit. At the shock of pleasure that ran through you as he teased your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, you clenched around his pipe and arched your back. You felt that familiar coil spring up in the depths of your stomach, your body rocking slightly backward against Rafe´s to help you relive the press soon.

Rafe pushed into you harder than he had any of the other time before then, hitting your sweet spot with a force that would have made you cry out, had you had your mouth free. His fingers applied pressure to the shapes they were making on your clit. The mix of heightened attention and force made your pussy squeeze around him and pushed you over the edge, coming with tears in your eyes.

After a few more brutal thrusts into your soppy cunt, he came as well, unloading into you, his thoughts barely registering anything at that point except for you and your body bent over his desk, his cum dripping out of your used up hole and onto your thighs.

Slowly he took away his hand from your face, a trail of spit following. As soon as you got a few much-needed breaths, you collapsed onto the desk, your body falling limp. Rafe pulled out of you, not wasting any time before he pulled his pants back on and redid his leather belt around his hips. He leaned over you, his body covering all of your sweaty skin as he dressed you in your underwear again.

“You did so good, darling. So, so good."

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sleep-0-deprived · 6 months ago

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Yandere CEO who is serious and strict but becomes a real puppy at the reader's feet, he gives everything the reader wants and kneels before him asking to be able to touch and give pleasure to the reader.

Yandere CEO x male reader imagines~! ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝․․⸝⸝ ྀི꒱ა

A/N (I did the Yandere as a sub top and I thought of the Yandere being mid forties while reader being late twenties because I thought it fit best anon!) <33

Just imagining Yandere CEO being a complete heartless man to the world, old and cold as they say. Until he seen your resume running across his desk and if you told him of love at first sight he would scoff at you and kick you out but oh my, when he seen the small picture of you next to your resume he didn’t even care to read it because this man was going to have you. The only words he could think of was “he must’ve been crafted by the gods, I bet Adonis himself spent his life carving those lips” shivers went through him dialing your number trying to get a interview with you.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who hires you at first for your pretty face making you his assistant putting you a desk in his office wanting all eight hours of your days to be spent close as he can get to you, being soft and sweet for you unlike his mean and cold demeanor with the rest of his employees. he’d glance over at you typing something on your computer quietly asking “are you alright? Did you need a break, your hands aren’t sore are they?….i can get you into a nice spa if you’d like. I don’t want my best employee burnt out”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who gets you gifts on the daily nearly pouting if you tell him not to, all he wants is for you to cling to him! He’d beg and plead asking you to let him suck you off whispering in your ear “let me help you out, boy?…I wanna ease you up a bit, you deserve the best so just let me give it to you” he’d mumble getting on his knees and massaging your thighs nice and gentle getting your cock out of your slacks worshipping it nuzzling his face into it peppering your angry tip with wet kisses.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who sends you flowers takes you on fancy trips. Sending you to Rome with him when he goes to sort out business you’re sitting somewhere in a fancy restaurant holding his black card telling you “buy anything you want, I wanna spoil you baby..” and by the time he gets back to your five star hotel room all he asks os for all your affection groaning into your ears holding you by the waist bucking and thrusting his hips up into you from beneath murmuring on and on rambling having you on his cock sending shivers through him “oh you’re so perfect~ pretty little thing~ hng oh fuck moan a little louder you sound angelic like that—“ he’d whimper spilling into you nibbling on your shoulder softly.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who asks you all sweetly if he can have you cock warm him while he manages files, pleading just wanting to please you wanting to have you all sprawled out like a happy cat with his chubby tip pressing and massaging your walls just bullying your prostate while he tugs at your cock like its glass having you orgasming more times than you can count pleasing you like it’s his life’s mission “c’mon baby boy, one more for me? I know you can push it out shhh doin perfect there’s a good boy”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who loves your chest, worshipping them as his holy grail sucking at hurrying his fave in your pretty s/c pecks. Nibbling at your nipples pressing little kisses to your peaks using his hands to massage them while he rotates back and forth making sure each one gets the perfect amount of attention “they are so beautiful sweetheart, god your skin tastes so divine” it was like sex polling with your skin covered in the finest nectar for him driving him insane hazily looking up at you with complete and utter infatuation.

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khioneee · 5 months ago

Text

‘honey, i’m home.’

simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.

the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.

you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it—letting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldn’t place it.

when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.

simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since you’d gazed into those stormy eyes—five years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.

your breath hitched painfully. ‘wake up,’ you said to yourself, heart racing. ‘please… wake up.’

but you didn’t.

‘lovie…’ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time. ‘i’m home.’

your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be here.

simon’s expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didn’t care.

he was here.

you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotions—relief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.

‘they told me you were dead,’ you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. ‘they said your plane crashed. that you were gone.’

you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.

simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. ‘every bloody day, i fought my way back for you,’ he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he’d endured. ‘you were the only reason i stayed alive.’

you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking you’d lost him forever—all of it shattered in his arms.

but then, simon’s grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.

his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.

‘where’s your ring?’ he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.

your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. ‘simon…’ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. that’s when he saw them—new photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.

it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.

you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. ‘i waited…’ you whispered. ‘even when they told me there wasn’t a chance you were alive, i tried.’

his face didn’t change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. ‘i came back for you,’ he uttered softly, almost to himself. ‘i told you i’d come to you.’

‘i thought you were gone,’ you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. ‘i didn’t know how to keep waiting when they told me you’d never come back.’

simon’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. ‘i didn’t survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. ‘i fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again… i will.’

you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost moments—they still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.

‘i told you i’d come back,’ he said, voice low but steady. ‘and i’m not going anywhere. not ever again.’

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inbabylontheywept · 7 months ago

Text

by tradition, the first day of the camp was spent pranking the group next to us. our prank was ziptying the zippers on their sleeping bags together. we figured one of them would sleep with a knife, because we all slept with knives, because we were dangerous maniacs and half the danger of a dangerous maniac is that they tend to think that they are Actually Normal. so. obviously that didn't pan out, and instead they got stuck in their sleeping bags for like half an hour and because their scoutmaster slept in their car and couldn't hear them yelling, they actually only got out when one of them went full caged animal and chewed through the plastic. which meant they had time to make it to the axe throwing station, but they did miss breakfast.

the scale of our victory was impossible to understate. it was an epic prank. unrivaled. the best in years. we knew they were going to retaliate, and we both feared and craved it. maybe i'm still a maniac, but that feels like a common thing, right? do well adjusted people that are not maniacs crave Judgement?

(serious answers only please, from people who would never spoon a knife.)

anyway, the next day we got back to our camp, and the neighors had skipped dinner to just come back and fill all our tents with pinecones. which was like, a decent prank, i guess, but it probably took them an hour to fill all the tents up, and it took us like 15 minutes to tip the tents out, and as a return volley to the ziptie prank it was incredibly underwhelming. we felt a little cheated.

so our scouting group held a council, and we agreed, unanimously, that our prank was 100% better and theirs sucked and that there would be no escalating tensions because we were the clear victors. they'd had their chance to retaliate, and they failed, and so the war was over. that was it.

we agreed on this. we swore. but madness is a relative thing, and in our group of maniacs, we still had J. i have many, many J stories. too many. i biked up to school with him from 4th grade to 8th, and i saw him get hit by cars thrice. he'd just swerve into the road sometimes. one time on a rainy day in 4th grade, a car splashed me, and before i could even consider my response J yelled I GOT THIS and then he blitzed off after the car. i didn't see him the rest of the day. i was so anxious i barely slept that night. i saw him the next morning and he told me that he'd chased the car until it got to a gated community and then he'd climbed over the fence and looked in peoples garages until he found the one with the car, and then he'd ripped the hood ornament off and broke their window. then he gave me a hood ornament to a different brand of car from the one that splashed me and i didnt tell him because i didnt want him missing more school. i want you to mentally adjust your mental model of the things a 9 year old is capable of doing to include chasing a car for five miles, hopping a fence, breaking into a garage, and vandalizing a randos car.

and that's just the tip of my J stories iceberg.

the point of all this is just to say that J was so crazy that he made us knife spooners look like accountanting enthusiasts.

so we agreed the war was done, and we shook on it, and then J, in the name of friendship, in the name of honor, in the name of avenging our pinecone filled tents, snuck over to their camp that evening and fornicated with a watermelon that they'd been saving in their cooler.

i want to emphasize, again, that this was not the consensus of the group. that is not a prank. like i know it seems like we dont know what pranks are because of the whole ziptie thing, but even we knew that fucking someones food is not a prank, it is a crime, and a sin, the kind of weapon that had only been ethically used once in history by Horus in his battle against Set and none of us dumb assholes had owl heads.

so.

the next day went pretty well. we threw some more axes again, which is a valuable and important skill for children to learn i guess, and we learned how to tie knots, which is a skill that turned out to be far sexier than i ever expected, and i learned how to light fires with a magnifying glass, which was great. i'm looking back at this, and i am actually just now beginning to realize that the clear and obvious point of scouting is turning child sociopaths into apex predators.

and then the day ended, and we went back to our camps, except for our leaders, who had a sort of Scout Leader Meeting they were going to have for a few hours at least. it was built into the camp, that day was supposed to be our day to chill as a group, and make peach cobbler, and just be buddies.

except, as it turned out, our neighboring group's alternative to making peach cobbler was eating their watermelon. so at some point they opened their watermelon, and woo boy. oh man. you think catholics hated seedless watermelons? you should see how much mormons hate seeded ones.

so we were chilling by the fire, and then we heard screaming from the camp over, but we didn't pay much mind to that because there are many reasonable explanations for a group of 10ish children to scream simulanteoulsy, such as wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then the screaming got closer, which did not bother us because there were many reasons for a group 10ish children to scream and run towards us, for example, wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then we noticed they had large sticks on them, which we figured were perhaps being used to drive away the wasps, which are abundant in arizona, and then they arrived and they started beating the shit out of us, abundantly, in arizona.

so we ran into the woods.

now, at this point, we had no idea what was up. we knew that the camp next to us was out for blood, which was crazy, because we'd actually locked them in fartproof bags for 30 minutes and they'd barely done anything back, and were trying to figure out what could possibly have happened that could drive them to Terrible Violence when we realized that J was cackling like a witch that had learned how to order children off of ebay.

so we politely asked J what the hell he had done, and he politely explained that had "done" their watermelon, and we politely beat him with large sticks because life is nothing but endless cycles of violence.

we were still being chased by the other camp btw. so it was them, chasing us, chasing J, and then they got tired and went back to their camp, and we chased J a little longer because we were mad we'd all been walloped with sticks, and J did not care because he was a supernatural entity whose only weaknesses were Needles and Fire, and then we got tired and went back and J kept running, and we just kind of figured he would come back eventually.

he did not.

we went back to our tents, and we waited, and J did not come back. we stayed up all night, peering into the forest, worrying. our leader came back, and we did our best to hide our battlewounds, and he either genuinely did not notice or simply accepted this as part of Boyhood. then he went to bed, and we waited, and waited, and waited. And Waited. and did not sleep.

eventually, we convened again, and we agreed that if J was not back by after breakfast, we would have to tell the scoutleader about what exactly had transpired. and we really did not want to do that, because it would have meant that everyone would have gotten in a very large amount of trouble.

morning came around, and J still was not back. we went to breakfast, and we ate very, very slowly. we were afraid the other camp was going to continue their war with us, but they actually looked fairly frightened. one of them actually came to us and asked for a truce, and we agreed because we truly felt bad for them. like, yes, they did beat us with sticks, but J fucked their watermelon. we werent complicit in the watermelonfuckening but they didnt know that, and it was definitely the kind of crime that left one outside the bounds of the social contract.

and then when we could eat no more bits, when breakfast was almost done, right when i was getting pushed to go and tell the scoutleader that we needed to find J, he arrived. he was sleep deprived, and noticeably scraped and bloody, and tied to his belt was a blood squirrel tail.

and i asked him, J, where did you get that? and he said, don't worry man, it was already dead, which did not answer by question and gave me several more.

the camp ended that day, and the other groups avoided us like the plague, and it was not until some weeks later that we were able to piece together what happened.

J, in his sojourn through the forest, managed to find (or, possibly, make) a dead squirrel. he then cut off the tail to keep on his belt, because he was a weird little freak like that. he also took the dead squirrel, and he skinned it, then he tied it to a little crucifix made of wood, and he left it in the other scouting group's camp. which is why they were so scared of us.

it was such an unhinged thing to do it actually sobered us up for a while. scouting became a scary thing for us. we'd found something dark and primal there, in the place where no adult could see, and our appreciation of J as a wild ride kind of changed into seeing him as something truly dangerous. we had a sense wherever he went, something terrible would follow, and the only way to escape it was to not be there when it arrived. and so piece by piece, the scout group dissolved. it wasnt until he moved out of that ward that the rest of us started daring to go back to scouts.

and for the final epilogue of the tale:

i have a little brother who was friends with a younger cousin of J's, and the two would go to parties together in highschool. and sometimes J, who was in his early 20's at that point, would show up at the parties, and it was unsettling in such a way that it just became a known risk at parties with the cousin. and at one party, they were playing truth or dare, and J wasn't even in the room, but someone asked him the Truth of how he always knew how to find the cousin, and J said the cousin's mom had mentioned she was worried about him and the parties so he'd put a tracker in his car. and when he saw that the cousin was out of the house on weekends, he'd made a visit by, just to make sure he was safe.

then he left. and every single person at that party went over that poor kid's car. they searched the wheel-wells, checked underneath it, the works, until they found the tracker. then because they were clever, they didnt break it, or throw it away, or anything that would've given away what they'd done. they just gave the tracker to the cousin, who put it in his glovebox. and on schooldays, he'd take it with him, so J could see him in the parking lot. and on weekends, he could leave it in the garage, so he could go to parties with out Hell coming with him. because everyone that met J - every single person - knew that the only way to be safe from him was to be far, far away.

#this is a funny story i promise #but it's also a really fucked up story #about a very fucked up person #scouting #babylon-lore #writing #anecdotes #tw: stalking #tw: blood #tw: bullying #tw: dead animal #tw: violence

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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

Text

I miss designationless reader so here’s a throwaway thought that has indeed been talked about before:

John wasn’t expecting it.

You’d been curled up against him on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles along your back. It was nothing out of the ordinary- just another evening where he took care of you. He was warm, steady, protective. It was second nature.

And then, with a sleepy sigh, you murmured. “You’re such a good Alpha, John.”

His body locked up. His chest rumbled with a deep, involuntary purr, the praise settling over him like a heavy, addictive drug. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he could absorb the words into his very being.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough, deeper than usual, tinged with something dark and so very pleased. “That right, love?”

You nodded drowsily, your own eyes closed and unaware of the way his pupils had dilated.

His jaw clenched. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a slow breath, to keep his instincts in check. But fuck, hearing that from you- from his scentless darling who didn’t even understand what it meant- was dangerous.

He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling the faintest traces of warmth and home and the nest that clung to your skin. His lips brushed against your temple, voice thick and quiet when he spoke quietly. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’m your Alpha. Always.”

It didn’t end at just John, of course. You had no idea what you were doing to Ghost, either.

He had you pinned against the training mats, his forearm braced beside your head, his weight hovering just enough to keep you trapped without crushing you. Your chest rose and fell in quick little breaths, your limbs trembling from exhaustion after he’d spent the last two hours running you through drills.

He was just about to push himself up, about to offer you a hand and call it a day-

But then you exhaled, all soft and warm beneath him now, and huffed. “You’re such a good Alpha, Simon. And a good sparring partner.”

He froze.

For a full five seconds, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe. A deep, wrecked sound rumbled from his chest, his pupils blown wide. His fingers twitched against the mat, and it took everything in him not to sink down, not to press himself into you and take what his instincts so desperately wanted.

His head dipped, nose brushing against your jaw, and his voice came out hoarse. “Say that again.”

You blinked up at him, lips parted in confusion. “Huh?”

His breath hitched. Fuck. You didn’t even realize.

His body was vibrating, his muscles locked in place as he forced himself to lift away from you, to put space between you before he did something stupid. He barely managed a rough, “Nothing,” before pulling you to your feet and all but shoving you out of the gym.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

And then for Soap, it happened in the middle of a mission.

You were perched on a rooftop with him, lying low as he set up the overwatch position. The others were moving in, and he watched their backs.

His focus was sharp, fingers steady as he adjusted his scope, tracking movement below. He was good at this- at spotting danger before it could reach his pack, at keeping them safe. It was instinct.

And then your voice, quiet, cut through the tense silence. Would his reaction be like Simon and John’s, you wondered?

“You’re such a good Beta, Johnny.”

His breath caught. His hands tightened around the rifle. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, spreading to the tips of his ears, and he had to blink rapidly to keep himself from losing focus.

A slow, giddy grin crept across his face. “Aye, lass? Y’think so?”

You hummed. “Mhm. You always watch out for everyone. It’s nice.”

His chest ached. His heart pounded so hard he was sure the others could hear it through comms. His fingers flexed against the rifle as a shiver ran down his spine.

“Fuck’s sake.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a helpless laugh.

He and his pack were never letting you go.

Lastly- Gaz.

It was late, and the two of you were alone. The others had already gone to bed, but you and Gaz had stayed up, quietly chatting as he helped you patch up a few scrapes from training.

He was careful, his touch gentle as he smoothed ointment over your skin and wrapped the bandages with practiced ease. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he focused.

You watched him for a moment, something warm blooming in your chest. Maybe…

“You’re such a good Omega, Kyle. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He stilled, much like Ghost had done.

His fingers faltered against your arm, breath hitching sharply. His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and dark, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to decipher whether you meant to say that.

And then, very slowly, a shaky exhale left his lips. His head dipped, his nose brushing against the side of your throat, and a low, satisfied purr rumbled from deep within his chest.

“God,” he groaned, thick and hoarse. “You can’t just say things like that, dove.”

You blinked, hiding your grin. “Why not?”

His grip on your wrist tightened, just a little. He took a slow breath, scenting you out of pure instinct, even though you had no scent to take in. “Because,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, “it makes me wanna keep you all to myself. Come on, up- we are going to the nest.”

Omegaverse masterlist

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ncrthofnowhere · 25 days ago

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sweet dreams — part one

summary : your roommate sucks, but you sort of wanna fuck her, and that's just a terrible problem to have.

tags : nsfw! modern!au, sevika's huge butch cock, & mentions of masturbation.

wc : 1.1k

notes : for the precious anon that wanted more badroommate!sevika <3

Sevika was the worst roommate ever.

You’re going insane. You swear your lungs are turning black from all the second-hand smoke you’re inhaling. Sevika smokes inside the apartment constantly and she doesn’t listen to you when you yell at her to blow it out the window. You would really like your security deposit back, but at this point, you’re shit out of luck because the walls are definitely going to be stained yellow by the end of the lease.

You’re going insane. You get no sleep. She brings girls over every night and they’re always so damn loud when they’re going at it. You hate it.

(“Oh Sevika!”

You’re on your stomach, biting into your pillow and trying to keep quiet as you rub furiously at your engorged clit. Unlike some people, you were considerate of the fact that your apartment had walls as thin as paper. Still, keeping quiet was difficult when your fingers felt so good against yourself.

“Fuck, you’re so big!”

You can’t help but whine at that. God, your mind drifts to Sevika, how insufferable she is and how deliciously her cock would fill you up. You’ve seen it, you work mornings and have seen the bulge she sports around in the early dawn when she’s half awake and still slightly hard from morning wood.

You think about how smug she would be, fucking you, how she could fold you in half and pound into you like you were meat and how you would thank her all the same. You think about how it would look to a third person, how her musclebound ass would clench with every thrust she makes into your cunt. You think about how you would come and whine for her to stop, saying it was too much and that you were too sensitive and how she would smirk and tell you that you could take more for her.

You think about Sevika, Sevika, Sevika.

Your hips jerk sloppily to the rhythm of the fingers on your cunt. The noise it makes is delightfully sinful. You want Sevika to drink it all up, to tongue at it until you were writhing and screaming on her bed.

It isn’t long before you hear a moan that was louder than the rest and a low groan that definitely belonged to Sevika.

You come with them, your cunt squeezing and spasming against your hand. The orgasm has you struggling to breathe steadily as you flop onto your back. You’re too spent to get up to clean yourself, so you suck yourself off your fingers and wipe the spittle against your bedsheets. You let out a pleased sigh and fall headfirst into blissful sleep.

You can’t quite look Sevika in the eyes the next morning.)

You’re going insane. You’re annoyed all the time. She seemingly loves annoying the fuck of out of you because she teases you every time you walk out of your room. You’re trying to get used to it, the sexual innuendos (you always roll your eyes at those), the size jokes, (you’re really not that small, she’s just well built, alright?), and the fucking sex jokes, by god, the sex jokes at your expense. No, you aren’t a “prude,” you just… don’t have time for that.

(It started after the fifth girl she brought over. You confronted her, begged her to go to a damn hotel or something because it was getting ridiculous. You're probably only getting five hours of sleep a day and your clit really cannot take another night.

“I don’t really see the problem here,” she had said with her signature smirk.

“Sevika," you hissed, fuming, "You have these girls moaning like it’s their job!”

“Jealous?”

You had blushed at that and Sevika, observant as she was, did not miss the way your face turned tomato red.

“Wooow,” She draws the word out with the biggest grin on her face, amused to all hell, “you are!”

“Wh–” You wheezed, caught off guard, “No? I’m not!”

You sort of are. There’s no fucking way you’ll tell her that though.)

You’re going insane.

This woman is fucking insufferable. You wouldn’t really call yourself a petty woman per se, but Sevika makes you that kind of person. The idiot leaves her prosthetic arm everywhere around the apartment and it brings you immense satisfaction to hide it — just to see how panicked she gets when she has to tear the entire place apart to find it.

You do not know how you were going to survive sexual frustration without fucking your roommate, which would be very, very bad. Or without going completely bald from the stress. Baldness would be preferable, honestly.

You sigh as you fumbled with the old front door knob to your shared apartment. You really don’t understand why the fuck your landlord refuses to just replace this ancient thing — the prongs of your keys get stuck in the eroded hole on a regular basis and it is a pain in the ass to wrestle it out without breaking the metal.

After ten straight minutes of struggle, you finally get the door open, only to get hit in the face with the strong odor of cigarillo smoke. Fucking god.

“Sevika!” You snarl, ready to yell at her.

The woman in question is sitting by the window, cigarillo in hand while actively blowing the fumes outside. You blink and look up and down at her. Sevika has seemingly dressed down for the night, wearing only an undershirt and loose sweatpants. The bulge between her crotch is deliciously highlighted by how she’s manspreaded across the loveseat.

She raises her eyebrows up at you expectantly. You swallow, your throat suddenly desert dry.

“…Hi.”

Sevika chuckles lowly at that, “hello.”

“I was—” you cough, “—I was going to yell at you for, uh… smoking inside.”

Sevika nods along slowly, like you were the crazy one here and she wasn’t the woman sitting in the living room with a hard on and blowing her cigarette smoke out the window for the first time in the three months you’ve lived here.

She uses her muscular arm to brace against the loveseat in order to sit up properly on the couch. The cigarillo looks delicate in her calloused hands. The movement highlights the muscles in her biceps and forearms, but it also jostles her cock, making you swallow harshly. She has to be doing this on purpose, you think.

“I’ll just—” you squeak out, gesturing awkwardly towards your bedroom, “I’m going to my bedroom now.”

Sevika smiles at that and brings a hand up to wave condescendingly at you.

“Sweet dreams.”

At that, you run to your room, slamming the door so hard the walls around seemed to vibrate. You slump against the door frame, horny and sweating.

What the fuck.

those that wanted to be tagged : @sevikalover824 ; @sevikaswife135 ; @djstinkyfartz ; @carotenoidstereo

#works ; 𖤐 #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane #there will be a part two!#maybe even a part three >:)

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deusfoundry · 4 months ago

Text

part 2 here!

girl dad!zayne who simply smiles when his daughter knocks on the door of his office one night. she lets herself in, a deep crease present on her forehead, fingers wrung together. he can tell the moment she entered that something's bothering her, so he shuts his laptop off in favor of giving his daughter his undivided attention.

"what's wrong?" he asks with an encouraging smile on his lips.

girl dad!zayne who puts on a nice front when she tells him that a boy is coming over tomorrow night for dinner. he almost says "no.", mouth opening to reject the very prospect of boys. "you're too young to be dating." he very nearly says, if not for the quiet "please." that stops him in his tracks.

suddenly, he's taken back to a whole decade ago.

suddenly, his little girl has just turned seven years old.

suddenly, she's pleading with the widest doe eyes he's ever seen for him to get her the slice of carrot cake displayed on the counter of a bakery.

damn it, he thinks. those eyes are the bane of his existence. not once has he been able to resist them. curse you and your genes for passing those godforsaken eyes to your little girl.

so he smiles. he pulls his daughter into a warm, comforting hug.

"of course." he says, trying not to sound like he's forcing the words through gritted teeth. "i'm not mad at all, sweetheart."

"really?"

zayne merely hums, and when she squeals in delight, jumping up to plant a small kiss to his cheek between an onslaught of thank you's and i love you's, he almost forgets that he just agreed to having some boy over in his house.

girl dad!zayne who huffs when you press a kiss against his lips to stop him in the middle of his rant. he's spent the last half hour citing complaints about his daughter. how boys her age are stupid and none of them could even dream of treating her the way she deserves to be treated.

"when did she even get old enough to start talking to boys?" he manages to insert between exasperated claims every five minutes.

"it's part of being a teenage girl, love." you pull yourself away from his lips, lazily moving around to straddle his thighs. "let her be."

"and you're not the least bit concerned?" his breath hitches against his throat when you start to slowly trail kisses around his neck. he doesn't hear your response to his question, mind clouded with the feeling of your lips drawing stars on his skin.

his girls are truly going to be the death of him.

girl dad!zayne who purposely lingers near the front door so he can beat his daughter to opening it. he hears the doorbell ring and the subsequent thundering of her footsteps from upstairs, but he's already opened the door before she can even rush down the stairs.

girl dad!zayne who relishes in watching the way this boy's face falls. he's secretly glad that his career is as remarkable as it has been at this very moment, because he sees exactly when it dawns on the boy who exactly is standing before him.

the father of the girl he likes is the doctor zayne. world-renowned cardiac surgeon doctor zayne.

the boy splutters. he unfolds into a stuttering mess right in front of zayne and he has to resist the urge to slam the door on his face.

if doing so didn't end in him being in the receiving end of your sermons, he never would've opened the door in the first place.

girl dad!zayne who’s overtaken by surprise for a quick second when the boy finally collects himself.

“thank you for letting me join you tonight, sir. it's really an honor.” he says his name. zayne's impassive expression doesn't deter the boy as he holds his hand out.

zayne reluctantly takes it. he's about to settle on just giving him a subtle shake when the boy himself takes initiative, shaking zayne's hand with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

"this is for you and your wife." he hands over the basket that's been sitting beside his feet. zayne eyes it with his arms crossed over chest.

the basket is decorated with a ribbon tied into a neat bow. it comes in his daughter's favorite color, an oddly specific shade of pastel blue that she's been obsessed with since she was five. the inside is parted down the middle, one side filled with fruits and food that you like. the other half is, very obviously, for him.

it's packed to the brim with a whole assortment of sweets. a variety of cake slices from a bakery at the other side of the town he's been meaning to visit. packs of candies he likes. his favorite pastries from the bakery near the hospital.

zayne is ... delighted. but he refuses to let the boy know he's slowly winning him over so he quietly takes the basket in his hands and lets him in.

"dinner will be ready shortly." he says before disappearing into the kitchen.

zayne catches his daughter with a small bouquet of her favorite flowers in her hand.

girl dad!zayne who intends to stay quiet over dinner, but is forced to make small talk when you kick him under the table.

"be nice." you remain silent as you smile at the young boy sitting beside your daughter, but he knows that's what you mean with the threatening glare you send him.

"so," zayne purposely says his name wrong as he clears his throat. "what do you do for fun?"

he sees you shake your head from the corner of his eye.

girl dad!zayne who still isn't entirely convinced that this boy deserves to be with his daughter, the literal light of his life, his little girl, but relents a little as the hours go by.

zayne remembers telling his daughter time and time again to never settle. that he himself would pluck the night skies free of stars if you so much as imply that it's what you want. that she should look for the love you share with him, unconditional and boundless.

and as zayne watches with a keen eye how he treats her, he thinks he's done a good job at instilling those beliefs.

he's attentive to her needs, handing the bowls of food that's way out of her reach. he places a small portion of vegetables on her plate and successfully coaxes her into eating them, something even zayne struggles with. he's quick to cover the edge of the table with his hand when she leans down to pick up the fallen spoon from beneath the table.

girl dad!zayne who ends the night standing behind his daughter on their porch as she waves him goodbye.

"drive home safely." zayne says, uttering his name correctly as a sign of respect.

he doesn't miss the way his daughter's face lights up. and if accepting someone new in their small family lets him see that smile more, zayne thinks it's all worth it.

this has been in my drafts since the i made that girl dad!zayne post a few weeks backdhejhd

divider from @cafekitsune

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #love and deepspace x reader

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nanamisgirly · 6 days ago

Text

part 1, you can still read this as a stand alone.

cw p in v, unprotected sex, choso is kind of doing hyper fixation, nipple piercings, Prince Albert piercing, both are dominant, oral sex (f. receiving), big dick choso, degrading and praising, riding, mating press, face sitting. mostly smut with a little plot (?)

˖ 𑣲 reblogs and comments are very muuuch appreciated ma girliees <333

choso stood in the shower, slapping his head against the wall, cursing himself for what he had done last night. was he dumb? no—he was the dumbest. not only had he given you a lap dance, but he had totally lost control… all because he got carried away by gojo's antics… and your cockiness.

“i'm so dumb, please, what was i thinking.”

he must have freaked you out—you, his pretty crush. his lovely crush of five years!!!! he had wanted to wait for the right moment, take you out first, maybe? just keep it slow. he had plans—not concrete ones, sure, considering he had been putting off asking you out for four years— BUT HE WAS ABOUT TO!! and then? then, he flubbed everything.

put his hand in your panties like some kind of pervert.

“am i crazy?” the memories of last night kept replaying in his mind like a never-ending torture reel—the way your eyes had widened, gojo's obnoxious cackle, the way he moved on top of you…

his hands flew to his face, covering it as the image of him taking off his shirt surfaced.

“why did i do thaaaat?” it's been hours now but he still was analyzing every second, every word, every breath—like some kind of detective trying to piece together a crime scene.

“i wasn't even drunk, just a little tipsy, please,” he muttered to himself. his brain refused to move on. he needed a reset. a cleanse. what if he vanished? he could pack his bags, drop out, change his name, move to remote village where no one knew the name Choso Kamo—

“you're miserable.” of course he couldn't do all that, and of course suguru and satoru had to invite you over their shared college apartment.

meanwhile you? you had spent all day thinking about last night. the way choso—the usual awkward choso—had moved against you, the heat of his body, the way his hands gripped you. the way his usual reserved, flushed face was nowhere to be seen—replaced by something demanding, dominant.

and it had left you aching. all day long, the pulse between your thighs wouldn't let up. only intensifying as you replayed the moment his bulge pressed against your heated core, giving you that perfect pressure.

which is exactly why you were in his room now.

he had tried to escape you all night, hunched over on the couch, avoiding eye contact like his entire existence was a mistake. the moment you called his name, his entire body tensed, bracing for impact.

and now? he was hiding in his room.

choso had had shot up so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table. “i—i gotta—” he didn't even finish his sentence before he had bolted to his room, slamming the door behind him.

a beat of silence had passed before gojo wheezed. “ohhh, he's so fucked.” as he exchanged a look with geto. you laughed, stretching out on the couch before standing up and followed choso right after he had left.

‘yeah, this was gonna be fun’ you thought.

he was so different than from last night. you needed to know if it was just a fluke. if, perhaps, he regretted it. or if he wanted you as much as you now realized you wanted him.

choso was losing it. he was pacing his room like a madman, running his hands through his damp hair, yanking off his shirt as heat crawled over his skin. his heart was beating out of his chest, his entire body on edge from just one moment of closeness with you.

but how was he supposed to face you after last night? after making a complete fool of himself? he wanted you so badly—had wanted you for years—but now it was all ruined. you probably thought he was weird… or worse, pathetic.

“…choso?”

fuck.

your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but something about it send a shiver down his spine. he should have ignored it. pretend to be asleep. do anything but let you in.

but then the doorknob had turned. and there you were.

the second you had stepped inside, he knew.

knew from the way your eyes had darkened the moment they had landed on him. from the way you shut the door behind you without looking back.

he swallowed thickly. “y-you need something?”

you stared at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his bare, inked chest—his damn barbells—his flushed face, the nervous twitch of his fingers at his side. he looked unsure, so lost—like he had no idea what he had done to you.

‘how dare he look like that after making me ache for him all night?’

“…yeah,” you finally said, voice low. “i do.”

you stepped forward, pushing him back until his knees hit the bed. he sat without thinking, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. you leaned in, caging him in with your hands on his thighs. his breath hitched.

“i've been thinking about last night,” you admitted, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against his skin. “a lot.”

choso swallowed hard, his entire body going stiff. “y-you have?”

you hummed, tilting your head. “mhm. and you've bee avoiding me all night. i don't like that.”

“i—”

you don't let him finish. instead, you climb onto his lap, straddling him exactly like you had last night—right before geto had joked about getting a room.

he choked on air as your hands slid up his chest, slow and teasing, nails scratching lightly against his skin. just like you did at the party. “you danced on me like you wanted me, choso,” you murmured, lips brushing against his ear. “you even felt how wet i was. you touched my pussy… licked your fingers.” your teeth grazed his earlobe, making him shudder. “so tell me…” your hips rolled against him, pulling a trembling gasp from his throat. “…you don't want me anymore?”

that's all it took for choso to snap.

one second, he was frozen beneath you, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. the next, he was grabbing you—strong hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto the bed in one swift, effortless motion.

you barely had time to gasp before his weight was on you, pressing you down, his breath hot against your skin. his tattooed hands—nails painted a deep purple— pinned yours above your head, fingers intertwining with your own, your dark red polish a stark contrast against his.

“fuck—” he growled, voice rough, desperate. his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes burning with unhinged desire. “do you have any idea how many nights i've spent dreaming about this?”

you shivered. this wasn't the flustered, awkward choso from earlier. no, this was the lapdance choso.

“choso—”

this time, he was the one not letting you finish. his lips crashed onto yours, hungry, all tongue and teeth, all the pent-up frustration from five years of longing spilling out at once. his hands moved from your wrists to your waist, gripping tight, possessive.

his hips ground against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, back arching at the friction. that was all it took for him to loosen up completely.

his lips started attacking your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks—his marks. his hands tore at your clothes, desperate to feel your skin against his. his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping against your collarbone, sucking one nipple on the way as his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them, his breathing ragged.

you whimpered, hips pushing against his, searching for more. and choso didn't even bother undressing himself—his only focus was you.

his hands were rough as he spread your legs wider, slotting himself between them. his breath hot against your inner thighs, and fuck, he was already feral with hunger. his lips drag over your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses that sent chills up your spine. his fingers resting on your hips as he looked up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with need.

“i've wanted this for years,” he groaned. “thought about this—you—so many fucking times i—” he shook his head like he couldn't explain it, like he was too far gone to form words.

then he did the only thing he's capable of—diving into your core.

his mouth latched onto your clit with a desperation that was insane. his tongue flicked, lapped, sucked, determined to commit your scent to memory by morning. he was messy. sloppy. loud. he slurped, pressing his nose against you as he ate like a man on death row having his last meal.

he moans onto your fat lips, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. choso's eyes roll back at the sweet taste of you. one of his hand traveled up to cup one of your soft breast, squeezing, thumb playing with the hardened nipple.

“fuck—fuck, choso—” he didn't stop. didn't slow down. if anything, your moans only made him more drunk. he buried his face deeper, his free hand holding you open even as you tried to clamp them shut from the intensity of it. his inked arms looked almost sinful against your untouched skin—marked hands spreading and owning the softness of your body.

"nuh-uh," he grunted, shaking his head. “not happening. you're gonna take it. gonna let me taste you.”

he was dripping. his cock was so hard it was truly painful, leaking through his sweatpants, leaving a wet spot on it, but he didn't care. didn't need anything except your pussy against his tongue, your thighs trembling on his broad shoulders, breathless little whimpers spilling past your lips as you fell apart for him.

he licked everything. lapped up every drop like he was trying to drink you, tongue sliding through your folds, sucking, moaning, devouring you.

choso was gone. absolutely, completely, ferally gone. he wasn't just eating you out—he was making a mess out of himself, out of you, out of the sheets. his tongue was everywhere, slurping up your slick, pushing deep into you just to hear the obscene squelching sounds echo through the room, riding you through your orgasm. god, he was so fucking shameless with it, groaning as he makes out with your cunt—as if he wanted to live there.

his face was soaked, his chin dripping, his cheeks wet with your slick. and he just kept going, even after your previous climax. he is obsessed, getting off on nothing but the taste of you. his big hands holding you open, keeping you in place even as your legs shook from the overstimulation.

"up." he groaned, pulling back just to take in the sight of your wrecked pussy, spread and dripping for him.

you barely registered his voice, your brain still fogged with pleasure. “w-what?”

“up here,” he said again, gripping your thighs, his voice rough, hungry. “sit on my face.”

your eyes widened. “choso, i—” he glared, pulling you closer. “what? you scared?”

your face burned. “no, i just—what if i—what if i suffocate you?” this was genuine fear. no one had ever requested that from you before—no one had ever wanted you like this, so desperate, so feral.

choso just snorted, flipping you over with ease, positioning you right over his mouth. “sit.”

“choso—ahhh—”

he pulled you onto him, locking his arms tights around your thighs, forcing you to sink down onto his mouth. he lost no time to dive back in. tongue flattened against you, lips sucking hard before he shoved his face deeper, noise brushing your clit with every movement of his tongue fucking you.

“choso—” your thighs squeeze around his head making choso groan. sending vibrations up to your core.

his hips bucked up, his rock-hard cock leaking more pre-cum through his sweats, but he ignored it—ignored his own desperation, his own need, because you were all that mattered. you crying out his name, you feeding him what he'd been craving for years was way more important.

his hands slide up, gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft patch of hair above your cunt. his fingers twirled the strands absentmindedly, tugging, playing—entranced by every inch of you.

he pulls you down harder, deeper as you start to grind against his tongue, getting wetter from his spit and his sheer obsession. and when your thighs twitch and your back arch and your cunt gushed against his tongue—

“so pretty,” he muffled. “so soft, so sweet, i could stay down here forever.” your fingers clawed at the bed head, mind blurring as another orgasm crept up too fast, too hard. there was no escape. no mercy. just the wet sounds of his mouth working you open, inked arms locking you in place, dark nails digging into your skin.

choso latches onto you, drinking every single drop, messy and greedy as he moaned once again.

“mine,” he rasped, tongue flicking, fucking you through the second orgasm even though your body was jerking from overstimulation. “you're fucking mine now. you hear me?”

your mind was fuzzy, lips parting as you tried to catch your breath, but choso wasn't having it.

his lips were shiny with your slick, his face drenched, his eyes dark and hungry as he kissed his way up your body, pressing sweet, almost gentle kisses against your skin. But the contrast—the way his hands were still gripping you tight,—made you shiver.

“you can take more, right?” he murmured, voice soft, almost sweet as he nuzzled against your cheek. "you're not done, are you? my pretty girl can handle one more, yeah?”

your breath hitched. "choso, I—I don’t think I—” but he did not care.

one moment, you were still straddling his face, thighs trembling—and the next, you were on the mattress, your legs pushed up, spread wide as he hovered over you. folding you into a mating press—big hands hooking under your knees.

you felt his heavy cock toying with your clit as he freed it from the drenched boxer. the tip already leaking against your overstimulated folds. you weren't even looking at it—the two back-to-back orgasms leaving you drenched—but damn, you could feel how big he was just from just the tip.

you tensed. “choso—”

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on your smudged lips. “i'll make it fit. just be good for me, yeah?”

his voice is a mix of gentle sweetness and absolute filth, causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“ohhh, fuck—” you gasped, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders.

“shit,” choso groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “fucking hell, baby, you're so tight—fuck, squeezing me so good—”

your pussy was strugglig to take him, stretching wide, the thick girth of his cock making your mind go blank. he was so big—it felt like he was splitting you open. “c-choso, s'too m-much,” you panted, legs trembling around his waist.

but choso only cooed, kissing your temple, his voice all sweet and reassuring even as he bullied his cock deeper. “you can take it, pretty girl,” he whispered. “you're made for it. look—fuck, taking me so well—”

but suddenly you feel something.

a cool, hard press against your walls, dragging along your inside. your eyes widened, fingers tightening around his biceps as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot up your spine.

“w-wait, what—”

choso chuckled breathlessly, hips rolling just enough to let the metalic weight of his piercing grind against your sensitive spot. “you feel that?” voice barely above a whisper, thick wtih amusement.

you whimpered, thighs twitching as the sensation made your head spin. the prince Albert piercing was something you hadn't been prepared for—hadn't even know he had—but fuck, the way it dragged inside you, catching against your most sensitive spots, it was…delectable.

tears pricked your eyes, your body overwhelmed.

“mm, s'nice, huh?” he grunted. “been dreaming about how you'd feel wrapped around me like this, all warm ‘n’ wet, taking my cock with my piercing…”

a broken moan slipped past your lips as he rolled his hips again, the cool metal rubbing against your tender, stretched-out walls, adding a whole new layer of pleasure. your nails raked down his tattooed chest, catching on his pierced nipples.

your walls gripping him like vice, your body pulling him in even as you struggled to adjust.

“shit, baby, you're creamin' all over me.” you whimpered, embarrassment flooding through you, but choso just grinned, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit.

“nasty little, thing. acting like you can't take it, but your pussy's sucking me in—mhh, goddamn, you're loving it, right?”

you sobbed, head lolling back, body burning hot from his words, from the way he was praising you while talking so dirty.

his hips keeps pushing into you, pushing all the way to the hilt, forcing you to take every inch of his thick cock in one deep thrust.

“choso—ah!”

“mmh, yeah,” he pulled back just to slam into you again, the sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing in the room. “fuck, baby—so tight—gonna stretch you out realll good, yeah. gonna fuck you open 'n—mhfp”

choso wasn't gentle anymore—fucking roughly, fast. animalistic. he pounds into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he owned it. because he does. his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over—

“listen to you,” his eyes rolls back at the obscene sounds of your wet cunt sucking him in. “so—” slams “fucking—” slams “messy—” slams.

hot fat tears make their way down your cheeks, nails dragging down his back, over the swirling ink that covered his shoulders and arms, down to his taut stomach where his happy trail led to thick patch of hair at his base.

you weren’t even sure what was hotter—the way he fucked or how he looked doing it. his tattoos flexing with every movement, his abs tightening as he drilled into you, the barbells through his nipples gleaming with sweat, the veins in his arms prominent.

“gonna make you my little cumdrunk girl, huh? my pretty little toy to fuck stupid?” he panted, voice thick with lust, his hips drilling into you. “feels good? best you ever had? tell me, baby—tell me no one else ever fucked you like this—” his grip on your waist was bruising, holding you onto place as your body jolted forward because of his brutal thrusts.

your mind was mush. you could barely think, barely breathe. but you knew the answer.

“n-no one—fuck, c-choso, mghn—no o-one everrr—”

“damn right,” he gritted out, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until you were seeing the whole constellation. “no one else gets to have you. no one else gets this pussy but me, got it?”

you nodded desperately, body already on edge, the coil in your stomach ready��to snap—

and choso feel it, his hands went to support your thighs, hugging them tightly around his waist. “go on,” he growled, forehead sticking to yours, not slowing his pace. “cum for me, baby—wanna feel your cum all over my cock, please.”

your head rolls back as the knot in your stomach releases, vision blurring from the pleasure, cheeks reddened by your tears. choso still hadn't cum, dick still hard—and if anything, it only grows inside you as he feels your spongy walls spasming around him.

you had never felt something like this before—so high off pleasure, so insatiable, so utterly dizzy with lust that even after he had fucked you into oblivion, you wanted more.

as you came back to your sense you take a look at the man above you, hair damped with sweat, chest heaving, face still shiny with your slick. cock twitching—and so does his piercing—gleaming with your cum and his own pre-cum.

strength surged back into your limbs—not much, but enough to straddle him. your palms landed on his chest, fingers splaying over his pierced nipples, the cool barbells sitting perfectly against your skin as you pushed him down.

his eyes widened. “are you—”

you smirked, dragging your soaked pussy along his length, feeling his pulse against your swollen folds, the hard curve of his piercing pressing into your clit like a tease of what's to come.

“what's wrong, baby?” you cooed, tilting your head, feigning innocence. “tired already?”

choso groans, hands flying to your hips, dark painted nails digging into your flesh. “fuck, you're gonna kill me—”

“or milk you dry.” you wink at him, giggling at the way his cock throbbed at your words. you could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep control. “i thought you said i could take more,” you teased, voice sticky-sweet.

the tattooed man cursed under his breath, jaw locked tight as he watched you slide up and down his length, your arousal coating his veiny shaft, dripping down to his balls, his dark coarse hair shinning with slick. “shit, so fuckin' messy—”

you leaned down, licking a slow, wet stripe up his throat, feeling his pulse hammer against your tongue before whispering, “wanna ride you, sweet boy.”

his whole body jerked.

“holy fuck—” and before he could process anything, you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, tracing a looong vein going from his base to his swollen tip—hot, leaking. the weight of his piercing pressing against your palm.

your thumb brushed over the Prince Albert, curiosity flicking across your face. his tattoos were hot, his nipple piercings were hot…but this? the idea of that thick metal pressing inside you, once again? fuck.

“y-you sure?" choso stammered, his usual cocky drawl cracking into something desperate. i—i'm quiet big, d-don't wanna hurt you.” his flustered concern was endearingly cute, but you knew better.

“i can take it.”

you dropped. in one go. fast.

“FUCK!”

his head slammed back against the pillows, his mouth falling open as your tight, soaking heat swallowed him whole, the tip piercing pushing past your entrance, forcing your walls to stretch around both his sheer girth and the unrelenting hardness of the metal.

“shit…” you gasped—his cock stopped right before your bellybutton—your pussy was still struggling to accommodate him, the stretch toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming fullness.

his happy trail and coarse pubes grazed against yours, adding to the overstimulation, his fat tip hitting something that made your toes curl.

choso's painted nails sank into your ass, black and purple contrasting on your unmarked skin, as he took in the sight of you—you're messy hair, fucked-out expression and the obscene bulge pressing out of your belly.

you bit your lip, rolling your hips just right, feeling the delicious burn of his cock pressing on every spot inside you. “feels so good,” you moaned, taking your sweet time to enjoy every inch. after all, it wasn't everyday that you could fuck a pretty hyper fixated emo man. with a big big cock above all that. “so fucking full—”

choso was hanging on by a thread, every muscle in his body taut. his breath shudders as he tries to keep himself together. but the way you were riding him—slow, teasing, your cunt clamping down around him.

“you little tease,” he panted, voice strained. “you're fuckin' enjoyin' this, huh? making me lose my mind—”

you rolled your hips harder, making him grunt. “mmh, you like it, don't you? like watching me fuck myself on your fat cock?”

his palms landed harshly on your cheeks' ass. making you yelp in surprise. “fuckin' filthy—such a nasty girl we have here—”

you moaned, reveling in the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his big hands manhandled you even though you were the one on top.

suddenly you feel his fingers wrap around your throat. your breath hitched.

“my pretty little slut," he rasped, squeezing just enough to make your head swim, to make you even more aware of his piercing dragging inside you with every pulse of his cock.

his hips bucked up—hard, deep, unrelenting.

“you want to ride? then ride, baby—correctly.”

your moans turned into choked cries, your body jerking as he thrust up into you, driving his cock into your sweet spot over and over and—

“c-choso, p-please—”

“pussy's like magic," watching as your slick splattered onto the sheets and his abs. "sloshing wetness all over me—fuuuck.” his gaze darkened, locked onto your bouncing tits, onto the way his pierced nipples tingled every time you dragged your nails across them.

“you feel so good. riding me like a pro," choso was on the edge—panting like he'd lose his mind if he didn't cum soon. “th-thought you were scared it wouldn't fit?”

but you were gushing around him, walls spasming, your tight heat milking his cock for everything he had.

“baby, i—god.”

choso’s whole body tensed as his climax crashed through him.

his hips jerked, his cock throbbing deep inside you as thick, hot ropes of cum spilled into you—so much that it was concerning.

his head fell back, a deep, wrecked whimper slipping past his lips as he kept coming, his hands gripping your hips tight, forcing you down onto him, making sure you took every drop.

"shit," you breathed, feeling the warmth flood you. your walls still fluttering from the aftershocks of your own release, thighs burning, your clit throbbing from the stimulation.

"choso, you're still—"

"i know," he gasped, still throbbing, still leaking inside you. "i can’t—fuck, i can’t stop—"

And neither could you.

it continued.

For hours and hours.

choso had been relentless, folding you in every position imaginable—his stamina something straight out of a mythological tale.

and you finally stumbled out of the bedroom—legs gone. nonexistent.

you might as well have left them in the sheets because they were absolutely not functioning. you had to grip onto choso's arm just to stay upright, and the smug, self-satisfied grin on his face was not helping.

“fucking finally,” geto drawled from the couch, stretching out his arms. “took you two long enough to get a damn room.”

you groaned, burying your burning face into choso's shoulder. geto should be more worried about if you were leaving that room alive.

gojo, sprawled next to him, smirked. “nah, nah… room or not, i definitely still heard everything.” he turned his head towards choso with a shit-eating smile. “didn't know you had it in you, big guy.”

choso was… shy? embarrassingly shy. he froze, ears burning, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something—desperately wanting to find an exist to this discussion.

you blinked up at him. confused. because who's that the same man who whispered the filthiest, most dominant shit into your ear?

he was mumbling, looking everywhere but at you. “i hate you both,” he muttered under his breath. staring aggressively at the floor.

geto chuckled, nudging gojo. “oh, this is gold. he's all quiet now. what happened to all that dirty talk, huh? gone?”

you bit your lip, holding back a laugh. he was so shy. and it was adorable.

“actually,” he blurted out, too quickly. “did you know tigers have the strongest bite force among big cats? but hyenas actually have a stronger one in comparison to their body weight?”

silence.

you blinked. gojo and geto stared.

“what?” gojo squinted. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“animals,” choso said even faster, shoving his hands into his pockets like he could just disappear into them. “as you know, i watch a lot of documentaries and—”

gojo wheezed. you smiled.

and the, because you were a menace and because this was the cutest thing you'd ever seen in your life, you leaned in—all slow, all teasing—watching as his ears somehow got even redder when you got close.

as if he hadn't just spent hours rearranging your insides. as if he hadn't been the most depraved man known to life.

you let your fingers graze his forearm, voice sickening sweet. “tell me more.”

his eyes flicked to you, wide, surprised.

but when he saw that you actually wanted to hear him ramble, when he realized you were genuinely interested—his lips parted slightly. his shoulders relaxed.

and softly—hesitantly—he started talking again.

and it was kinda hot!!

(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

I hope the anon who requested that is satisfied !! :3

#choso doing hyperfixation is canon i do not make the rules #choso with piercing is even more canon idc #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader smut #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x you #jjk fanfic #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x reader #fem reader #x you smut #jjk #jjk x reader

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creamiecoups · 18 days ago

Text

conditioned - seungcheol x reader

↠ seungcheol x reader

↠ summary : you were too naive, too sweet, and seungcheol had to be the one that gets to wreck and destroy you… and also make sure you were conditioned enough to never dare to leave him.

↠ word count: 6.5K words

↠ warnings: swearing, tension, dom!seungcheol, mafia boss!seungcheol, mentions of drinking, noncon/dubcon, reader is scared of cheol, slight degradation, oral (male receiving), choking, crying, mentions of drugging, use of pet names

part one part two part three part four part five

"So… how did you get home last night then?" Your friend Umji asked, as you took another bite of your strawberry cake.

You both decided to meet during your lunch break at the cafe you worked at, Umji now extremely curious as to how you managed to get home after you told her about the mysterious man you couldn't remember the name of from last night.

"To be honest... I-I don't know. It's genuinely scaring me to think about just how drunk I must've been last night—"

"Yeah but to that extent? Honestly Y/N I don't want to worry you any further but are you 100% sure he didn't spike your drink or something? It's kinda insane to think you literally can't even remember a single point on from when he started talking to you, and can you really not remember his name?" Umji asked worriedly, as you frowned.

"No.... I really am trying to but I can't. I remember his face though, like I could recognise him.... and no I really don't think he would've because I never once looked away to what I remember," you say, biting your bottom lip as Umji sighed.

"Yeah but it could've happened when you were already drunk. I remember when you walked away from us to go to the bar... you were pretty drunk already. Fuck I’m sorry Y/N. I should've never let you go off like that we all drank so much it was really—"

"No no don't blame yourself you did try to stop me so many times but I just walked away once I saw Eunha dragging you to get more drinks from the other guys, that's on me."

"But still, I should've come with you. Now are you sure nothing was stolen from your apartment? Or did anything look even the slightest out of place or suspicious?" She asked again, as you glanced down at the time on your phone to see you only had a couple more minutes left of your break.

"Yeah I did, I spent almost an hour looking around like an insane person, but nothing. I-I guess I must've told him my apartment name and code... I even asked the front desk if anyone told him my code and they said that's usually the time the desk is left unattended... but I know it was definitely him because everything is so blurry after that conversation I had with him about the... the expresso martini," you say, shifting in your seat as Umji looked at you in worry.

"I know you have to go soon, I should head back too I have some assignments to finish but.... please promise me you'll call if you need anything? And if you ever feel unsafe you know I'd be the happiest to have you over for as long as you'd like," Umji said, as you both stood up before you were hugging her tightly.

"I know I love you, and thank you," you whisper, as she pulled away to pat your head.

"I love you more. Call me tonight."

You watched as she walked away, a bitter smile on your face as you walked back to the cashier area.

you missed her already, she was one of the only people that made you feel loved here.

"She's really pretty.... is she looking for a man by any chance?" Yugyeom wiggled his eyebrows your way, as your other co worker Jaebum snickered.

"You're not a man, you're literally the biggest fucking baby here, Y/N?" Jaebum asked you directly, as you smiled instantly.

"He's not really wrong there Gyeom," you say with a laugh, as he rolled his eyes at you before walking towards the back door.

"Well I'll leave you both out here to deal with the annoying customers then, I’m taking my break!" Yugyeom announced before practically running away.

"He couldn't bring himself to admit it so he ran, pussy," Jaebum mumbled, making the both of you laugh together as you helped him clean the coffee machine.

"Ah can you take the next customer, I think someone is waiting there, I'm just gonna get the coffee powder from the back," Jaebum said, pointing to a man standing in front of the cashier, his back facing you.

"Yeah of course," you say before skipping over to the machine.

"Hi what can I— Joshua??" You gasp softly, eyes lighting up as he smiled at you warmly.

"Hey Y/N, you finish in an hour right?"

"Yeah, why?" You asked, as he simply smiled before looking up at the menu above you.

"It's freezing outside, I'll get a warm coffee, when you bring it out we'll talk," he said as you slowly nodded.

This was the first time he ordered something aside from an iced americano, like he mentioned it was way too cold for something iced.

After he paid you watched him walk back to his usual spot at the booth, before you were turning around to serve the next customer.

"Let me guess he wants it from you again?" Jaebum sighed, rolling his eyes as you watched him make the drink.

"I-I don't know... it is kinda weird but he's not really harming anyone I guess," you shrug your shoulders, as Jaebum scoffs before handing you the tray with Joshua's order.

"Oh he harms people alright. Look I’m not really interested in keeping you in the dark like the others do, he's filthy rich and a complete psychopath okay? Hell, they even have the police on their side that's how insane and corrupt these people are, and if you think he's bad enough... oh you haven't even heard the beginning of their leader—"

"Jaebum don't you think those cups need stocking up?" Soyeon spat, before tapping your shoulder as you turned to look at her still dazed.

"Mr Hong asked for this, right? Why don't you go deliver it and I'll keep watch at the counter," she said, before pointing towards Joshua as you slightly nod.

You sigh out a shaky breath as you walk towards him, Jaebum's sudden outburst leaving you in more confusion than clearness.

"Hey," You quietly mumble once you get to his table, placing the tray down in front of him softly as he looked up at you from his phone screen.

"Hi, come sit, I have something to tell you."

You hesitantly sit down, already knowing everyone was looking at you even without you having to turn to look at them.

like usual.

"Yeah what is it?" You ask curiously, as you watch him take a sip of his coffee before smiling softly.

"I know it hasn't been that long since we met but, actually I’m having a small get together at my house soon and I wanted to invite you," Joshua asked, as you pondered the thought.

The better part of you wanted to say no. Finding it weird he was inviting you to his house after your only conversations have been over coffee during your shifts... you didn't even have his number.

You were probably taking too long to answer, and looking at him weirdly enough for Joshua to clear his throat before smiling at you again.

"Do you have something on? Can't make it?"

"N-No no it's not that I just...." You trailed off, mentally slapping yourself for sounding like an idiot as you tried to quickly come up with something to say.

"I know you're probably wary and that's understandable, but there will be quite a lot of people.... it's actually one of my close friends' birthday so I’m hosting for it, you can bring a friend too if you'd like."

He was convincing you, it didn't seem like such a horrible idea anymore and you thought it would be nice to meet new people and have fun. Hopefully Joshua and you would get closer.

you were too foolish, but for his own good.

"Yeah okay, when is it?" You say as Joshua smiles to himself, patting himself on the back mentally for getting through you.

"This Saturday. Party starts 7pm but you can come whenever, here let me give you my number," he said, before signalling for your phone.

You took it out of your pocket, going into your calls app before slowly handing him your phone.

Jaebum was usually someone who was off his hinges at times, you would have to force out what he was trying to tell you later, but for now you knew you could trust Joshua.

"Alright perfect, I'll text you if anything changes. Now you finish in an hour correct?" Joshua asked.

"Yeah...why?" You question as he handed you your phone back.

"Thought you'd wanna go out for dinner someplace, my treat of course."

"No I couldn't do—"

"Darling I wouldn't be asking if I couldn't, please, it would be my pleasure... we're always only ever meeting when you're on shift, so, let me take you out," he smiled, eyes twinkling as your mouth slightly hung open.

You could never tell if he was just the overly friendly flirt type, or if he genuinely was hitting on you.

but you were somewhat friends you realised, so you saw no harm in it.

"O-Okay... yeah," you mumble out with a nod, as he sighed happily across the table.

"Alright perfect, I'll see you in an hour Y/N."

———————————————————————————

The rest of your shift you were completely out of it, thinking about how tonight would go with Joshua.

You couldn't really tell why you felt so nervous and on edge, you had been out with guy friends alone before, but none of them had made you feel this nervous, hell, even your ex didn't when you guys first started dating.

But you also felt a sense of happiness, because Joshua had slowly found his way into your heart.

You couldn't tell if you had developed a tiny crush on him or not, anyways he was beyond your league, but he made you feel like you could tell him anything and he would listen without leaving any room for judgment.

despite everything your co workers had been leading on.

maybe he'll be a good friend, you thought.

"Hey Y/N do you want a ride? Jaebum and I might be stopping for ice cream," Yugyeom asked you as you were getting ready to leave.

"That's okay guys one of my friends is picking me up, have fun!" You quickly say before dashing out of the door, knowing if you stayed any longer questions would follow.

You instantly spot Joshua's Porsche parked right out in front, as you awkwardly knocked on the window before you heard the sound of the door unlocking.

"Hey," Joshua greeted you as soon as you sat inside before closing the door.

"Hi, sorry if I made you wait we—"

"You don't need to be sorry, now put your seatbelt on," he cut you off before he was driving down the street.

"Okay.... so where are we going?" You asked curiously as you looked out the window.

"I remember you mentioned one of your favourite cuisines was Italian the other day, so I'm taking you to my favourite Italian place, you'll love it I promise," he answers, as you slowly nod.

"Can I ask you a question..?" You spoke after a few minutes of silence, before he was humming softly.

"H-How did you know my name...the first time we met... I remember I never told you, but you somehow knew," you asked him, furrowing your eyebrows slightly as he glanced your way before his eyes were back on the road ahead.

"Mmh... I think I heard someone call you? Like one of your co workers? I'm not too sure to be honest, but how else would I have known?" Joshua directed the question to you, as you bit your lip.

That would make sense.

You were soon pulling into a tall building in Gangnam, your eyes widening slightly when Joshua pulled down his window to hand his car keys to the valet.

"We're eating h-here?" You say once you get out of the car, jaw going slack as you looked up at the tall skyscraper.

"Yep, there's a restaurant on the 45th floor, let's go," he answered before he was holding your hand.

You went quiet as you let him drag you inside and into the elevator, your eyes now glued to your hands entwined with his. Joshua on the other hand seemed unfazed, looking ahead without any specific emotion etched on his face before the elevator was opening with a ding.

"Welcome Mr. Hong," a man in a suit greeted you guys as soon as you stepped out, before Joshua was shrugging out of his black blazer.

"Good evening, I trust you've found us the best seat like I asked for?" Joshua questioned with an eyebrow raised, before he was tapping at your jacket and asking you to take it off.

You removed it before handing it to the man with a small smile.

"Thank you, and of course Sir, a seat in front of the magnificent view, please follow me," the man spoke, before Joshua's hand was finding your once again.

You bit your lip as you quietly walked behind the waiter, your eyes wandering over the dimly lit restaurant in complete awe.

This was definitely an insanely expensive restaurant, and the 360 view of Seoul surrounding the place was a big giveaway.

"Joshu—"

"Thank you," Joshua said politely, as the man bowed at us before walking away.

You slowly sat opposite him on the comfy sofa chair, trying your hardest not to turn and gape at the beautiful city lights and instead looking at the man across you who was quietly looking through the menu.

"Joshua, you really didn't have to do all of this, any restaurant would've been fine," you say, feeling uneasy suddenly as you glanced around.

"Well I thought this restaurant would be nice, you'll love it, like I said earlier—"

"Yeah I'm sure I will but I know it's probably super expensive and I just...feel bad..." you almost whisper but he manages to catch on as his hands grab your fiddling fingers across the table.

"Relax darling. I wanted to bring you here okay? Just enjoy it, now.... have a look at the menu and pick out whatever you'd like, understand? Don't worry," he assured, tapping your hand once before handing you the menu book.

You reluctantly stayed quiet, figuring he'd be adamant on staying even if you wanted to leave. You opened the menu, eyes scanning over the list of dishes and noticed there was no price labelled next to each item.

"Anything you're eyeing in particular?"

"Y-Yeah the clam pasta.... I'll get that," you mumble, looking up at Joshua already smiling at you.

"I knew you'd get that," he gleamed, making you crease your eyebrows.

"How'd you know?"

"You mentioned it to me that time we talked about our favourite dishes," he answered, before calling the waiter over to you guys.

"Any wine for your order, Sir?" The waiter asked, as Joshua pushed the drinks menu your way.

"I'll go with red wine, have a look and choose Y/N," he said, as you looked over the confusing menu.

Well it wasn't actually confusing in a way you couldn't understand, but you also just didn't understand since it was possibly the most extensive alcohol menu you had ever seen... especially the wine menu with all the exquisite french names you could not wrap your head around.

"I-I'll just get what you're having," you shrug, as Joshua nodded towards the waiter.

"Make that two, thank you."

It fell silent between you two as you awkwardly played with your fingers on your lap, Joshua's eyes raking over you almost like he was attempting to read your mind.

"S-So your friends birthday... is it really okay if I bring a friend? It's just that, I-I won't know anyone else there and you'll probably be busy most of the time," you ask meekly, as Joshua nodded with a smile.

"Of course it's okay, the more the merrier right?"

"I just really wanted to make sure that's all, I had a friend in mind," you say as one of the waitresses was placing your dishes in front of you before bowing and walking away.

"Perfect, anyways.... I noticed you were a little lost on choosing a wine earlier, do you not drink much?" Joshua asked, motioning towards your plate before he was taking a bite of his clam pasta.

"Yeah I do, only when I'm out with friends and I don't usually get wine, I like soju and cocktails... I tried an expresso martini recently."

"Oh? How was that? It's my favourite," Joshua smiled.

"I loved it, it's one of my favourites now too," you reply before beginning to eat.

"Well I can introduce you to more wines everytime we have dinner together then," he said, as you felt the heat warm your cheeks.

"O-Okay thank you," you mumble, drawing out a chuckle from him before it fell silent again.

You both ate in silence, only exchanging small words about how good the food was before the waiter was coming back to take your plates away and placing the red wine bottle along with two wineglasses down on the table.

Joshua grabbed the bottle before pouring the dark red liquid into both your glasses.

You thanked him before grabbing your wineglass and taking a small sip.

"It's good right?" Joshua asked, as you looked at him wide eyed.

"This is... so much better than the red wine I've tasted before, how?" You ask in bewilderment, in awe at the sweetness of it before you were taking another gulp.

"It's a pretty popular French brand, you don't really get it everywhere, I'm glad you like it though."

You were about to ask him further before he was looking behind you, his eyebrows going up in shock.

"Seungcheol? Hey man what are you doing here?"

You turn to see where he's looking, your breath automatically being stuck in your throat when you looked up to see the somewhat familiar man.

"Hey Shua, I had a conference here— oh, am I interrupting something here," the man spoke, eyes zeroing on yours as you shift in your seat uncomfortably.

"Not at all... Y/N?" Joshua asks you, voice cutting through your thoughts as you shake your head unconsciously.

You watch as he sits next to Joshua, slowly rolling up his sleeves as his eyes never left yours.

"W-Wait aren't you..." you trailed off, almost unable to get the words out as Joshua frowned slightly.

"Cheol you know her?"

"Yeah... she's the one I was telling you about the other day.... the one I saw at my club who was getting harassed by that loser and I had to take her home—"

"W-Wait what?" You cut him off in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing as you stared at him from across the table.

"Yeah we had a couple of drinks, I got up to leave, then this drunk loser had his hands all over you so I got my security to kick him out, realised you were way too drunk to be alone in a bar like that, couldn't find your friends either so I asked for your apartment name so I could take you home safe.... actually it's good I got to see you again, I wanted to apologise because I entered your house without your explicit and sober consent—"

"No no you don't need to b-be sorry at all, I'm really glad I got home safe, thank you for that," you bow at him, still slightly dazed from the whole story.

"Also you mentioned your own security?" You add, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

"Darling, that was my club you walked in to, I own it," he spoke, chuckling softly when you don't respond right away.

"W-Wait like... it's yours?" You question dumbly, suddenly feeling even more awful that he did all of that for you.

"Yes," he answered shortly, as Joshua nodded.

"O-Oh my god, I'm so sorry you were probably busy and I—"

"Hey relax pretty, it really wasn't a problem for me, I’m glad I got you home safe though," he smiled at you widely, the cutest dimples you had ever seen sinking into his cheeks as you bit your lip.

you wondered if he was a taken man... yeah he definitely probably was.

"Yeah I’m glad your safe now, but maybe don't drink like that away from your friends Y/N, it's insane you can't even remember any of it," Joshua spoke, as you slowly nodded your head as you hesitantly took another sip of your wine.

"I definitely won't be.... It's crazy to me as well.. that I-I can't... remember..." you trailed off, gulping hard as your eyes fell to Seungcheol's dark ones, watching you intently.

You remembered what Umji had said earlier.... you tried seeing reason but you really couldn't find an explanation as to why you didn't remember a single thing to what he had just explained.

"Don't stress over it too much, too much alcohol can do that... maybe take a break from drinking for a while," Seungcheol spoke, his eyes leaving yours to trace over your body as you hugged yourself instinctively.

no something was definitely wrong.

"Y-Yeah I won't.... Joshua if it's okay with you can I leave? I can just get a taxi—"

"Nonsense, I bought you here so I'll take you back home safe too—"

"I was about to head out too anyway," Seungcheol cut through, before he was standing up as you and Joshua did the same.

"Perfect, why don't you both wait for me downstairs I'll just go pay," Joshua said, walking away from the both of you just as you were about to ask if you could come.

You hesitantly turn back to face Seungcheol as he already had his eyes on you. He motioned towards the elevator, before you slowly nodded and began walking in front of him.

Once the both of you were in the elevator it was dead silent, neither of you saying a word to each other but you could feel him glancing at you for a little too long, which was starting to make you uncomfortable.

You heard the elevator ding, signalling you had gotten to the ground floor, but Seungcheol was quick to click the close button.

"Wait what ar—"

It happened so quickly you felt as if the the air was knocked out of your throat, as Seungcheol pushed you up against the wall of the elevator, before bringing a finger up to his lips.

"Don't scream, or I won't be too happy about it."

You felt tears brim your eyes as the fear and confusion filled your mind, as Seungcheol towered over you with a smirk on his face.

"Think you catched on, hey doll?" He spoke, his voice an octave lower, in complete contrast to his easy going attitude earlier.

"W-What do you mean?" You stutter out, even though you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Listen, I wanna make this quick before Joshua gets back.... say a word to anyone, anyone about this, and it won't end well, understand sweetheart?" He spat, voice dripping in faux sweetness as you felt a shudder go down your spine.

"D-Did you drug me?" You managed to make out, feeling the lone tear roll down your face before he was quick to wipe it away gently with his fingers.

"I really would hate to ruin your makeup and have Shua wonder what's wrong.... now promise me you won't say anything to him."

His grip on you tightened, as you let out a whimper while nodding feverently.

"I-I won't."

"That's my good girl. Now..... I'll see you the night of Shua's party so until then, not a word and remember you promised me... I really hate liars," he spat, before the elevator door was opening once again and he was dragging me out by his grip on my wrist.

"W-Wait... what do you w-want with me?" You ask meekly, as he scoffed before patting your head.

"You always this curious and annoying? Well we'll have to work on that... I'll see you this Saturday and we'll talk then—"

"A-And what makes you so sure I'll come? Look.... if you don't explain yourself and what happened that n-night I'll call the... the p-police on you!" You spat as confidently as you could muster, even though your knees were weak.

"Did you just.... threaten me?" Seungcheol asked you in shock, although something told you it was probably not a good idea to answer that.

this wasn't going to end well.

And just as you were about to make a run for it he grabbed your left wrist tightly, his eyes now a few shades darker as he licked his lips.

"You know what? Think Joshua can wait I'm not leaving tonight until I teach you a lesson."

Seungcheol began dragging you back inside the elevator as your heartbeat quickened, the warning lights blaring in your head as you aggressively tried to pull your wrist out of his grasp as he punched in level 20.

"L-Let go off me!" You screamed, yet his grip only tightened as he glared at you, eyes molten.

The second the doors opened he pulled you out as you realised you were on one of the residency floors. Your eyes widened in fear when you guys stopped in front of a door on the far end, before he was fishing through his pocket for a keycard.

"N-No....no," you whimper softly, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision as he swiped it across the top of the door handle, before it opened with a ding.

Seungcheol pushed you in, closing the door behind him before he slammed you against it.

"You wanna fucking threaten me like that, you wanna call the cops on me? Huh? And where do you think that will get you baby?" He spat menacingly, hands gripping at your waist tightly as you cried helplessly.

"I-I'm sorry! Please just let me go and I-I won't tell anyone just please don’t hurt me," you helplessly beg, pushing your head back into the material of the door in an attempt to get away from the proximity of his face.

“Oh I won’t hurt you baby, at least just not yet…. but I am going to have to set you straight…. I really underestimated how difficult you would be,” he spat, his words almost like a riddle as it made no sense to you.

He bought his face impossibly closer to yours before his eyes were trailing all over your face, lingering longer on your quivering lips.

“I’m a very dangerous man sweetheart, so I wouldn’t fuck with me, understand? The police do not fucking scare me in fact, they can not help you…. so talk to me like that ever again or do so much as raise your voice, you’ll have to see me in a very different light, and you don’t want that, do you Y/N?” He growled, as you shook your head instantly.

“N-No I won’t…. do that again I promise,” you manage to make out, before he was finally moving away from you although his hands stayed firm on your waist.

“And how are you going to guarantee that for me?”

Your heart dropped as you stared at the man in front of you, your skin crawling as you tried coming up with a response.

“I-I don’t… know I… promise I won’t,” you almost whisper, as he smiles at you wickedly.

“That night at my bar? I did drug you… and unfortunately you won’t remember but we had quite some fun in the backseat of my car….” Seungcheol trailed off with a chuckle, as you only sobbed harder.

“…Don’t worry doll we didn’t fuck. Although I got to learn you are a pretty needy girl for someone that was fucked out on drugs,” he laughed, one hand leaving your waist to grip your jaw firmly as you hesitantly looked up into his eyes.

“W-Why,” you mumble, body shaking as he turned your head to the side before his plush lips was kissing your cheek tenderly.

“Like I said earlier, we’ll talk more at Shuas place…. I have things I need to tend to tonight so I don’t have the time…. although I do have enough time to make sure I’ll have you pliant and good for me by then…”

You bit your inner lip roughly as his other hand suddenly slipped into your jeans, his thick fingers pressing into your entrance as you squirmed in his hold.

“I’ll let you off without too much of a punishment since I feel like being somewhat kind to you tonight…. you know, first sober meeting and all,” he sighed, lips trailing from your cheek down to your neck, before you felt his tongue lay flat against your skin.

“P-Please don’t,” you whisper weakly, eyes wired shut as you tried ignoring his touches.

You heard him groan into your neck, his fingers toying with your folds through your panties before he was pushing himself against you, so you could feel how hard he was.

A shudder went down your spine as you tried to stay as still as possible, scared to move.

“Feel that baby? I’m sure you do….. speak up,” he spat irritatedly when you don’t respond instantly.

“Y-Yes,” you nod shortly, body shaking profusely as he smiled widely at the utter fear that radiated off you.

you were so fucking cute, he needed to ruin you.

“Think I found a perfect way you could make it sure to me you won’t go prancing downstairs and tell Joshua… or the police….” Seungcheol trailed off, as you hesitantly looked into his dark eyes.

“H-How,” you whispered, but he’s quick to catch on as he smiles down at you, his hand finally slipping out of you jeans.

“Well I have something you can take care of for me, and I’ll let you go back downstairs,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to answer.

“O-Okay… what do I have to do?” You choke on a sob, as both his hands find purchase on your waist once again, before he was leaning into your ear.

“Easy, just suck me off nice and good.”

“S-Seungcheol please just let me—”

“Come on baby it’s a pretty fair deal… but I wasn’t really asking so get on your knees, I’ll count to 5.”

You gulp thickly at his stern voice, hesitantly nodding before he was backing away slightly to give you some space.

“5…4…”

You were beyond scared, confused, and honestly terrified of what the man in front of you could do… so to save yourself from whatever was waiting at the end of his countdown you reluctantly got on your knees.

“Good, I knew you’d come around,” he smiled smugly, before he began undoing his pants and sliding them down along with his boxers.

You shuddered at the size of his length, the veins on the under side protruding as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together.

“Oh sweetheart don’t be scared, I promise I won’t break your jaw,” Seungcheol chuckled, before one of his hands was grabbing his heavy cock before guiding it to tap against your closed lips as you tried not to sqiurm.

“Now get to work, put that pretty mouth of yours to good use,” he spat, snickering down at you as his free hand thread through your hair.

You slowly part your lips, hesitantly darting your tongue out to lick the head as you cringed inwardly at the salty taste.

Suddenly his grip in your hair tightened as a warning to keeping going, making you reluctantly open your mouth wider to take him down your throat, sucking sounds filling the air around you as you tried to take as much as you possibly could.

“Fuck just like that baby, should’ve known you’d be good at this— fuck!” Seungcheol groaned, his deep voice sending tingles down your body as you tried to ignore it, focusing on getting this over with.

When you don’t move quick enough, Seungcheol growls angrily before using his grip on your hair to slam his cock deeper down your throat as you almost scream around his length, his grip on your hair moving your head up and down.

You hesitantly trail your teary eyes up at him, his pretty lashes on display and his mouth hung open as a string of moans slipped out, all while he pushes you completely forward until your nose bumps into his happy trail, your whimpers of protest completely disregarded by him.

“Gonna makes sure you swallow every last drop of my cum…” he sighs, throwing his head back as you feel him twitch in your mouth, your muffled whimpers of resistance and spit only making him move your head faster as he chased his orgasm.

You try to keep up as you can barely breathe, gagging around him before he finally releases down your throat in big spurts with a heavy groan, hand on your head still firm as he pulls you off his cock to watch you swallow everything down.

“You did so fucking well for me, your just perfect,” he smiled down at you, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip as you hesitantly smiled small, praying he’d let you go now.

Seungcheol helped you stand up again, before he was pulling his pants back on, a satisfied expression on his face as he watched you wipe your lips with the back of your hand.

“C-Can I go now?” You ask, voice cracking as your throat was beyond sore.

“Not just yet baby…. think you almost had as much fun as I did, I bet your soaking.”

“N-No I—”

“Don’t even bother sweetheart I saw how you were shifting your thighs pathetically, god….. bet if I checked right now I’d find your pussy all puffy and in need for attention hm?” He egged on, as you shake your head feverishly.

“Fine… take off your pants, along with your panties.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him in worry, he promised to let you go after.

“Relax angel I won’t do anything tonight, just do as I say for now.”

You hesitantly comply, bending down slightly to pull off your pants along with your very much soaked panties. You hiss as the cold air surrounds your bare pussy but you’re quick to frown to hide it.

“Now give me your panties, and put your pants back on,” he says casually, as you have no choice but to comply.

You shyly hand it to him, before you’re quick to pull your pants back on.

“Fuck…. you were soaked baby, just look at this,” he mused, pushing your soiled light pink panties up to your view as you looked away in shame.

“See baby…. you really can’t deny me…” he trailed off, bunching up the undergarment into his pocket before pinching your cheek lightly.

“It’s a shame I don’t have time, or I would’ve helped,” Seungcheol frowned, his dimples slightly visibly before he was staring at you with the same blank expression.

“Now…. I did make myself clear right? Don’t you dare tell anyone about any of this, let that ache in your throat be a reminder… and I better see you this Saturday all pretty and dolled up for me, do you understand?”

“Yes…. yes I understand,” you found yourself complying to his words, before he gave you a smile and a peck on your cheek.

“Good girl, now go downstairs and tell Joshua you wanted to use the bathroom but got lost, and that I left already.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, turning around to open the door before slowly walking out.

“And baby? Fix your hair and pretty gloss, you look ravaged,” Seungcheol laughed at you, before closing the door.

You slowly walking down the corridor back to the elevator, the defeaning silence engulfing you as you tried making sense of the entire situation.

what the hell just happened…. were you in danger?

you couldn’t understand or even remember everything he had said to you.

Taking a deep breath in you clicked on the lobby floor before fixing your hair and wiping the corners of your lips off anything.

should you really not tell Joshua?

“Oh hey…. Where were you?” Joshua pretended to be confused as you walked out of the elevator, like Seungcheol hadn’t quickly texted him to tell him everything that happened, not in too much detail.

Seungcheol wanted to know just how obedient you really were, see if you could keep something like that to yourself without telling Joshua.

“Sorry I was… trying to find the bathroom but I got lost, y-your friend left early,” you mumble as he chuckles before motioning towards the exit of the building.

“Ahh I see, well let’s head home it’s late.”

The ride back to your apartment was defeaning as you tried to remain as still as possible, your lower region pressed uncomfortably against the material of your jeans.

You felt used, Seungcheol’s touches still lingering everywhere and his words echoing in your mind.

“Are you okay Y/N? You’ve been a little quiet since we left.”

Joshua’s job: try to see if you’ll really crack.

“No I’m fine… just tired thats all,” you say, praying he can’t hear how hoarse your voice had gotten but Joshua knew, as he could only chuckle lightly.

“Okay.”

You let out a sigh when your apartment building came into view, before Joshua was stopping the car.

“Thank you for tonight, I hope your enjoyed and sorry again about my friend joining…. although I’m still shocked you guys already knew each other.”

“No thank you for dinner, and yeah… I wasn’t expecting that,” you say, praying he’d say goodnight and let you go sleep.

“I know he can be really intimidating, hope he didn’t scare you too much,” He joked, but you could only gulp at your words.

“Uhh no, not at yall, he was nice.”

“Well…. I’m glad, goodnight Y/N. I might not see you at the cafe tomorrow so see you at my house?”

“Of course, goodnight.” You’re quick to say with a small smile, before slipping out of the expensive car.

Joshua watched with curious eyes as you speed walked into your building, before he was pulling his phone out to call Seungcheol.

“That poor thing, she could barely speak Cheol you shouldn’t have been that rough… what happened to waiting anyways?” Joshua chuckles, knowing very well his long time best friend wasn’t always known for having the most patience.

#s.coups smut #seungcheol smut #joshua smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut

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darkbluekies · 3 months ago

Text

Christmas tendencies

Yandere!king x fem!reader

Summary: spending Christmas with Edmund can't go wrong<3 can it?

Warnings: Edmund not being nice, in fact being quite naughty, jealousy

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: i thought it'd be a waste to not post this when it was so near completion! So please enjoy and have a merry Christmas if you do celebrate it♡

As if on purpose, the snow has graced the earth for Christmas after not showing itself for the entirety of december. But now, a thick layer of snow covers everything that was once dead and grey. You can’t help but feel excitement. Maybe Christmas with Edmund won’t be hell after all?

You’re standing in one of the gigantic windows, looking out over the castle grounds—the very same you’re not allowed out in. The castle’s gardeners have decorated every bush, every tree, with lights and decorations.

“You’ve been standing here for a good forty five minutes now, my jewel”, Edmund says as he walks over to you, fixing his golden cufflinks. “How much more interesting can it get after ten?”

“You don’t get it”, you reply over your shoulder. “The gardeners have spent a lot of time decorating the grounds, shouldn’t one get to admire their hard work?”

You feel how Edmund comes up behind you, sneaks his arms around your waist and buries his chin into your shoulder.

“The staff has put a great detail into the interior too”, he mumbles. “Why don’t you stare at that for an hour or two?”

You scoff.

“I think it’s pretty”, you reply and turn your eyes out the window again. “With the snow and everything. Besides, I’ve already inspected every decoration inside, I helped hang them up.”

“You did, and it’s very pretty. Just like you. I like your dress.”

It’s a red velvet dress reaching down to the floor with long, cape sleeves.

You turn around to get a look at him. He's wearing a black suit with loose white pieces that puff out. Golden cufflinks and a white bow. His fluffy dark hair has been brushed back, face newly shaven—although there never was anything to shave to begin with.

“You look like you've been tortured”, you joke.

“Haha, funny”, he replies sarcastically, clearly not impressed. “I've told them time and time again that I have an extremely sensitive scalp but no one listens, they force me to do silly hairstyles like this. I think I must have lost at least half of my hair.”

You reach to fix a strand of hair that escaped his hairstyle. You can feel him shudder under your fingertips.

“You’ll live”, you say. “Besides, you look more grown this way.”

“Do I?” Edmund smirks proudly. “Do I look manly?”

“Don’t push it.”

He scoffs.

Weirdly enough, Edmund has agreed on letting you out of the castle today. Just because it's a special day. The townsfolk are having a market that you have begged to visit and who is Edmund to deny your Christmas wish?

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks and takes your hand. “The carriage it out on the front yard. Let’s get this over with.”

“Can’t you at least pretend to be excited?” you ask with a sad pout.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before nodding.

“I’ll have to take a long, scolding bath right after coming back”, he mutters. “Who knows what kind of diseases they can carry? Oh, you’re taking that bath with me, by the way. My Christmas wish.”

He’s like a child when it comes to your bare body, getting eyes wide as moons when he gets to see the most vulnerable parts of you. It confuses you. In his past he has allowed himself to a majority of women and their bodies, so why does he look at you as if he’s never seen it before?

It’s one of the few times you see him without his cocky exterior. He looks at you with eyes of gratitude, as if showing yourself to him is the greatest gift of mankind.

Edmund holds your hand tightly as you walk out to the royal carriage. The driver holds the door open for you, but Edmund insists on helping you up in it. He sits down in front of you. The carriage is decorated with golden details and small cherubs.

“You don’t have to look like you’re being driven to your execution”, you say and raise your eyebrows.

“I’m not happy about this”, he says. “This is something you want.”

“Can’t you be happy for me, then? Please, Eddie?”

His cheeks take on a red tone. The nickname has only been used by you, ever. You gave it to him, you’re the only one that is allowed to say it. The firs time you had said it, he hadn’t known how to react. He had been staring at you with large eyes, wondering what prompted you to give him a nickname when no one else had ever imagined to do such a thing. At first, he was unsure what he thought of the name. He was king Edmund. Had once been prince Edmund. Rarely Edmund. Never Eddie.

“Fine”, he says and clears his throat, trying to play it off. “I’ll try. But don’t call me that when we’re there.”

“Are you scared that the townsfolk will lose respect for you if they hear that you have a cute, little nickname?” you giggle.

Edmund rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

“No”, he says, smirking devilishly. “Because I don’t want other people to know what you call out in bed.”

Your jaw hangs open in shock and you grab the pillow behind your back, hitting him. Edmund covers himself with his arms, laughing.

“Watch the hair!” he shouts.

“You didn’t like the hair anyway”, you remind him.

“It’s Christmas, you’re supposed to be nice. Don’t be naughty!”

“Naughty? Who the hell started talking about naughty stuff? You started it!”

Edmund laughed. His blue eyes glittered.

The carriage rolls into the town. You turn your eyes out the window to look at what you’ve been watching from afar. You get out together, Edmund holding onto you so that you don’t fall. The townsfolk keep a distance, knowing that the knights will go to attack if they come to close. Their bright eyes watch on as if they’ve seen something extraordinary. And maybe, you think, for them this is something extraordinary.

Their eyes follow you to the christmas market.

“All eyes are making me shy”, you whisper to Edmund.

“Drink it all in, darling”, Edmund replies quietly. “They worship you, but not as much as I do … and if they try I’m going to kill them.”

“Be quiet!” you hiss.

Edmund scoffs and rubs your back with his hand. You walk through the streets to the town’s square where multiple small sheds are put up, full of candy, baked bread, knitted goods and alcohol. While you walk around chit-chatting with the vendors, Edmund stands close behind you, a hand on you always. A warning, to everyone around you. You are his, and no one is going to forget that—absolutely not you.

You buy something from every stand and insist of carrying it yourself. Edmund can’t understand why you want such … cheap crap. He can give you the same things but done well, made by professionals who cost him a fortune. He doesn’t let you eat anything and keeps a constant, watchful eyes around.

“Smile a bit more, why don’t you?” he mutters in your ear.

His jealousy is like a wildfire, spreading through him quickly and dangerously. With no easy way to stop it.

“Edmund”, you whisper quietly. “Stop it.”

“You bought so much from that man”, he continued. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“Edmund!”

He stays silent the rest of the Christmas market. As soon as you get back to the carriage, he can’t keep quiet anymore.

“Those are so fucking ugly”, says as the door to the carriage closes.

“That is so unnecessarily mean”, you hiss back at him. “They don’t have what you have. They do their best. And, for having as little as they do, I think they look great.”

You hold your new treasures in your lap closely.

“I don’t want to spend more time with you if you’re going to be like this”, you mumble without looking at him.

You’re happy for your new things. But he doesn’t understand. Edmund sighs heavily, clenches his jaw and nods.

“Okay”, he mutters and takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry … but I could have given you so much better things. If you wanted new mittens, I could have given you them. These things … who knows what could actually be in them?”

You put on the hand knitted mittens.

“Take them off”, Edmund says, but he doesn’t sound angry or demanding like before. “Darling, my jewel, I’m serious. I don’t want you getting a rash, or something.”

“We’re taking a bath when we get back, don’t we?”

Edmund sighs and gives up. You hold up your hands.

“Aren’t they kind of cute?” you ask. “A little?”

“Fuck no.”

“What if I had made them?”

“You wouldn’t have. If you had knitted mittens, they’d be a thousand times better.”

“You are so mean.” You keep your eyes on your hands. “You were jealous out there too.”

“Of them? Of those filthy peasants?”

“Of those men.”

Edmund leans back in his seat, jaw tightening.

“Men”, he scoffs and turns his head towards the window. “I wouldn’t call them ‘men’.”

“Childish jealousy doesn’t look good on a king”, you point out.

“You like it when I’m childish though. You laugh, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You don’t need to be jealous over them. I don’t know them.”

“Everyone wants you. And it makes me sick.”

“Everyone wants you too.”

“They want to be me. But they want you. And I will never let that happen. You are mine.”

“I know. You’re the last person to let me forget that.”

When you get back to the castle, the two of you walk straight to the bathroom where the maids have poured a hot bubble bath that is burning to the touch. Edmund holds you close to him in his arms.

The rest of the day is spent in the big living room, in front of the gigantic christmas tree that needed a dozen workers to decorate. Edmund wanted the entire town to be able to see the lights from his tree.

“Merry Christmas, my love”, he says and holds out a red box.

You remove the wrapping smd open the box, finding a necklace with large, round pearls. It's heavy in your hands, and even heavier around your neck.

“These pears cost me quite a lot”, Edmund says and touches the pearls carefully. “But they're cheap in comparison to what my love for you is worth.”

And he means it. He really does.

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